IO TRIUMPHE!
OR, GREEK FOR HEIFER!
(By an Old Boy.)
Thee, Camus, reverend renown
Thy grateful votaries seek,
Foil'd are the Vandals who'd "send down"
The Genius of Greek.
For Culture's jewell'd master-key
They cupboard pick-locks tend,
And in the cult of Mammon see
Learning's true aim and end;
Pit shallow youth's impatient fuss
Against the grit of CATO,
Set IBSEN up for ÆSCHYLUS,
And OLLENDORFF for PLATO;
For songs august of heroes sung,
And epic hosts embattled,
Enforce some pidgin-Latin tongue
By every waiter prattled;
For nymphs, where o'er the fragrant pines
A sea-bright sun uprises,
Their fancy plays round primmest lines
Of prigs receiving prizes.
From Sir JOHN CHEKE to Dr. JEBB,
From CALVERLEY to MILTON,
Clear spirits burst the Sophist-web,
And rent the rook they built on.
WELLDON is falsely named in this,
For sure, in slighting Greek, he
Will Learning's final blessing miss,
Her καλως πεποιηκε
What though the urchin deem it "rot"
(Such hasty views we stoop'd to,
Not seeing how on earth they got
Tetummenos from Tupto)
Still let us learn, not beastly facts,
The field of any booby,
But how thought acts and interacts,
And contraries can true be.
Though on oblivion's barren shores
He give it quick sepulture,
Still through reluctant passman's pores
Instil the dew of culture.
Still give us of the rills divine
That flow from haunted Helicon,
Nor rend thyself to feed the swine,
Like a perverted Pelican.
Keep far the time when every bee
That booms in every bonnet,
Shall find a chair of Apiary,
And drone long lectures on it.
Still the large light and sweetness seek
Of KEATS'S raptured vision,
(Or KEATE'S)—till Greek at last meets Greek
In brotherhood Elysian.
A NEW TREASURE FOR. THE TREASURER OF BARTHOLOMEW'S.—Mr. Punch, G.P.E., General President of Everything, begs to congratulate Professor HUBERT HERKOMER, R.A.M.A., on his admirable portrait of Sir SYDNEY HEDLEY, and now, not only HEDLEY, but Full-Lengthly WATERLOW, Bart., of "Bart's," which H.R.H. correctly described as "a very fine work of Art, painted by one of our most eminent artists." Such approbation of Sir HUBERT HERKOMER is praise indeed! Mr. Punch, G.P.E., prefixes the "Sir" prophetically. For the present it may be taken as the last syllable, detached, of "Profes-sir"
"WELLS, I NEVER!"—"Mr. WELLS," says the Times Correspondent, "has made 250,000 francs" (up to now), and "last year he made £20,000." Talk of the waters at various drinking or health-resorts abroad, why, their fame is as nothing compared with the unprecedented success of the WELLS of Monte Carlo. How the other chaps who lose must be like LEECH'S old gent "a cussin' and a swearin' like hanythink." So the two extremes at Monte Carlo may be expressed by the name of a well-known shopkeeping London firm, i.e., SWEARS AND WELLS.
