BRUIN JUNIOR.
Lord LANSDOWNE, loquitur:—
Be easy, my darling! He doesn't come snarling,
Or rearing, or hugging, this young Dancing Bear.
With you (and with pleasure) he'll tread a gay measure,
A captive of courtesy, under my care;
His chain is all golden. Your heart 'twill embolden,
And calm that dusk bosom which timidly shrinks.
Sincere hospitality is, in reality,
Safest of shackles;—just look at the links!
Alarmists saw ruin in prospects of Bruin,
The Great Northern Bear, treading India's soil.
How bogies may blind us! On our side the Indus
They fancy friend Ursa spies nothing but spoil;
But Ursa's invited to come, and delighted
To visit you, not as aggressor, but guest.
So welcome him brightly, and treat him politely.
And trip with him lightly, you'll find it far best,
ATTA TROLL (HEINE tells us) "danced nobly." Pride swells us
To think our young guest is a true ATTA TROLL;
No Bugbear, though shaggy, a trifle breech-baggy,
And not altogether a dandyish doll;
No Afghan intrigue, dear, or shy Native league, dear,
Has brought Bruin's foot o'er our frontier to dance:
He comes freely, boldly—don't look on him coldly,
Or make him suspect there is fear in your glance.
Be sure that the Lion will still keep his eye on
All Bears and their dens, in the Tiger's behalf;
Meanwhile Ursa Minor eschews base design, or
Intrigue against you, dear. Lift eyes, love, and laugh!
I'll answer for Bruin, he shall not take you in—
The Bear's bona fides nobody impugns;
He asks a kind glance, and your hand in a dance; and
He'll dance "to the very genteelest of tunes"!