VOYAGE DE GUILLAUME.—A FRAGMENT.
To the Editor of the St. James's Gazette.
SIR,—I have received the following lines from North Britain. Evidently it was not without reason that the Prime Minister was accompanied on his cruise by the Poet Laureate.—I am, Sir, your obedient servant, H. H.
* * *
—So all the year the noise of talk had roared
Before the Speaker's chair at Westminster,
Until King Guillaume's council, man by man
Were tired to death, as also was their Chief,
King Guillaume. Then, observing he was bored,
The bold Sir Donald C. invited him
(Sir Donald C., the last of all his knights)
And bore him off to Barrow by the sea—
Barrow-in-Furness, with a ruined church
That stood beside the melancholy waves.
Then spoke King Guillaume to Sir Donald C.:
"Next session will most probably upset
The goodliest Ministry of virtuous men
Whereof this world holds record. Not for long
Shall we contrive our schemes of policy,
Meeting within the offices and halls
Of Downing Street, as in the days that were.
I perish by these voters which I make—
Although Sir Andrew says that I may live
To rule once more; but let what will be, be.
He tells me that it is not good for me
To cut down oaks at Haw'rden, as before.
Thou, therefore, take my axe Exbrummagem,
Which was my pride—for thou rememberest how
The lustiest tree would fall beneath my strokes—
But now delay not; take Exbrummagem,
And fling him overboard when out at sea."
Then bold Sir Donald took Exbrummagem,
And went, and lighted his cigar, and thought:
"And if, indeed, I cast the axe away,
Surely a precious thing, one worthy note,
Should thus be lost for ever from the earth,
Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.
The King is cross, and knows not what he says.
What record, or what relic of my lord,
Should be to aftertime, but empty breath
Condensed in Hansard's books? But were this kept,
Preserved in some Mechanics' Institute,
It might be brought out by some lecturer,
Saying, 'King Guillaume's axe, Exbrummagem,
With which he cut down trees at Hawarden!'
So might he illustrate a stupid speech
To all the people, winning reverence."
So spake he, thinking of constituents,
And kept Exbrummagem for future use.
* * * * *
Then came Sir Donald, gave the King his arm,
And brought him to the margin of the sea.
And at his call there hove a roomy barge,
Manned with a gallant crew from stem to stern;
And so they entered, and put off, and reached
The stately Pembroke Castle, and were ware
That all the decks were dense with manly forms
In naval caps and jackets, and with these
Three dames in yachting suits; and from them rose
A cheer of greeting, and they stretched their hands,
Took him on board, and laughed, and petted him.
And so they sailed; and while the sea was calm
They talked, and sang, and feasted much, and had,
In Yankee parlance, "quite a high old time."
But when the wind blew, and the waves arose,
It sometimes happened that the grand old face
Was white and colourless, and cries of "Steward!"
Proceeded from the lips of eloquence.
And like a prostrate oak-tree lay the King
Wrapped in a shepherd's plaid and mackintosh:
Not like that Guillaume who, with collars high,
From brow to boot a meteor of debate,
Shot through the lists at Westminster, and charged
The serried ranks of bold Conservatives.
The St. James's Gazette, Sept. 19, 1883.
In the same 1842 volume, appeared "Godiva," "Locksley Hall," "Break, Break, Break," and "The Eagle," of each of which there are some excellent parodies.—The old legend of Lady Godiva, so beautifully retold in blank verse by the Laureate, has recently been sadly vulgarised by the processions at Coventry, and the following poem describes, not unfairly, the scene in which a somewhat prominent actress stooped to sustain the part of the Lady Godiva.