HIS FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE CAFÉ DES AMBASSADEURS.
OWEN MEREDITH, ALIAS LORD LYTTON, TRANSLATED INTO FRENCH.
Lord L-tt-n sings:—
Love's Metamorphoses I sang of late,
"My Unglenaverilled Glenaveril"
Puzzled the Public's unpoetic pate.
Wit, like my sire's imaginary Vril,
Is thaumaturgic. I have served the State
In various ways with elegance and skill;
But my "last Metamorphosis," I opine,
Out of Glenaveril's wholly takes the shine.
From "Owen Meredith," of Servian song,
Translator (who said through the French?) to this!
The course, like my Serb falcon's flight, is long.
The proletariat possibly may hiss.
I scorn the anserine Gladstonian throng,
Whose mouthpiece is the Gaily Dews. I wis
That nickname shows a polish and a fire
Of wit well worthy my prodigious Sire.
When I wrote Aux Italiens long ago
(And Trovatore rhymed with purgatory)
I little thought Paris one day should know
The bard in an Ambassador's full glory.
Ah! I shall miss the Oriental show
Of Ind—but that is scarce a pleasant story,
And, after all, I fancy that my Charis
Had always, more or less, a touch of Paris.
"Lucile," for instance! Well, I've wandered far
From my old Wanderer days; tout mieux, perchance.
Better to be a diplomatic star
Than a poetic shade. Beloved France,
To ape thy jeunesse dorée will not jar
Upon my spirit, which is all romance:
I love the blend of the sublime and finical,
Of chivalry, choice cookery, and the cynical.
Chamberlain—did I dub him once a scold,
A leaner, later Casca? I was wrong—
Is off to Canada, and Balbo bold
(I called him bilious once, but 'twas in song)
Is with us now, I hope the league may hold.
Who now dubs Joseph—though of course he's strong—
"The secret despot of a Cabinet,
That dare not disregard his faintest threat?"
Forgive the thought, Cæcilius! Whether Joe
Has put his foot in it, and bowed still more
Your "large Olympian forehead," I don't know;
But I can see that it must be a bore
To have your diplomats run wild. I go
With other purpose to a nearer shore;
And soon I hope your confidence to win,
And prove no ass, though in the Lyons' skin!
The "Wild West" finished up rather tamely. Lord Lorne and others, with, we presume, the Honourable Buffalo Bill Cody, palavered about an International Arbitration Court. If the Hon. and Rev. Bill—"Reverend" because, as he tells us, he once performed the part of a clergyman and married a couple, pronouncing a formula which, being a close parody on the words of the solemn rite, need not be repeated here, though they evidently struck him as a bright idea,—has anything to do with it, we shall hear of the rules of this new Court (not Earl's Court) being at once codi-fied.
Restitution With Resignation.—M. Wilson gave up 40,000 francs' worth of postage. Will M. Grévy give up the post altogether?
Another Motto for Augustus Druriolanus.—He does not say, "Peace with Honour," but "Piece with Merritt."
"The Rough Element"—last week, was—the Sea.