OR, THE BEAR AS LEADER.
["The French believed so implicitly in Russian friendship, even when there was nothing whatever to indicate its existence, that they may be excused for rating at more than they are worth expressions of goodwill, which, after all, are as ambiguous as they are tardy.... The success of a Russian Loan is not dearly purchased by a little effusion, which, after all, commits Russia to nothing. French sentiment is always worth cultivating in that way, because, unlike the British variety, it has a distinct influence upon investments."—Daily Paper.]
"But just fancy the confusion
When a bear has burst his fetters!"
HEINE's Atta Troll.
AIR—"Bloudie Jacke."
Oh! why does your eye gleam so bright?
Russian Bear?
Oh! why does your eye gleam so bright?
You've broken your fetters. Like some of your betters,
Your freedom moves some with affright.
All right?
Well, that's reassuring,—oh! quite!
Yes, your optic gleams piggishly bright,
Russian Bear;
It gleams with true ursine delight.
'Tis done—France is won, And 'tis capital fun
To hold it in shackles, which, slight—
Ho! ho!—
Yet fit so remarkably tight.
The chains may feel light as a thread,
Russian Bear!
As light and as slight as a thread;
But though light be the chain. Will his might and his main
Again rend it in twain? Fear is fled!
Quite fled!
And old animosity dead.
Haw! haw!
Nay, laugh not I pray you so loud,
Russian Bear!
Oh! laugh not so loud and so clear!
Though sly is your smile The heart to beguile,
Bruin's chuckle is horrid to hear,
O dear!
And makes quidnuncs quake and feel queer.
You have quite turned the tables, that's true,
Russian Bear,
The dancer did use to be you.
Now you thump the tabor, And France, your "dear neighbour,"
Seems game to dance on till all's blue.
Hurroo!
Alliances are pretty things,
Russian Bear!
Seductive and promising things;
That rat-a-tat-too, Which suggests a Review—
Makes his legs whirl as swiftly as wings.
How he springs
And leaps to the wild whillaloo!
You pipe and he dances this time,
Russian Bear!
The Bear and his Leader change places.
Quicker and quicker he, Steps; Miss TERPSICHORE
Scarce could show prettier paces.
Houp là!
Atta Troll could not rival his graces.
He who pays for the Pipe calls the tune—
Russian Bear!
Pooh! that old saw's quite obsolete.
Just look at that stocking! What matters men's mocking?
He'll pay, but your tune is so sweet—
Rat-tat-too!—
That it keeps him at work hands and feet!
How long? That remains to be seen,
Russian Bear;
But in spite of political spleen,
And Treaties and Fables, You have turned the tables.
Such sight is not frequently seen.
You've slipped yourself out of your chains,
Russian Bear;
'Till hardly a shackle remains
In Black Sea or Bosphorus. This may mean loss for us,
Bruin cares not whilst he gains.
Treaties and protocols irk,
Russian Bear;
And therefore are matters to shirk.
Berlin and Paris, No longer must harass
This true friend of France—and the Turk.
Hrumph! hrumph!
Well, well, we shall see how 'twill work!
"HANGING THEOLOGY."—Readers of the Times have been for some time in a state of suspense—most appropriately—as to the result of the correspondence carried on by Lord GRIMTHORPE & Co. under the above heading. At all events the Editor of the Times has been giving his correspondents quite enough rope to ensure the proverbial termination of their epistolary existence.
