THE GAME IN THE EAST.
Of all the games that e'er in the world of play were hit upon,
Since the ingenious "heads I win, and tails you lose," was lit upon,
The most winning game by far is that now played by the Czar
With France and England—famous flats to try his wicked wit upon.
A Turkey is the stakes in the match; and who can wonder
That to the wily Czar France and England should knock under,
That the honour in their hand 'gainst his tricks can never stand,
When his game is all finesse, and theirs all revoke and blunder?
What marvel France and England each deal are looking graver?
What marvel Russia's play grows more brilliant and braver?
When, thanks to his strong club, 'ere the close of the first rub,
He's the nine points of possession scored already in his favour?
When they lead off with a bow, he trumps it with a bluster;
They come out with a minister, he answers with a muster;
When diplomatic right meets autocratic might,
The latter oft proves stronger, though the former may be juster.
Meanwhile no rook e'er plucked his pigeons with more suavity,
Or pocketed his winnings with more self-denying gravity,
Or ever did express more acuteness of distress
At the slightest hint of cheating, or any such depravity.
And throughout, it must be owned, he has shown the utmost patience
In entertaining any or all negotiations;
But we argue and he acts, till our words against his facts
End in landing him across the Pruth, for further operations.