Brave Sir CARLOS EUAN-SMITHEZ! basely have they borne thee down;

Thousands, thirty, would they tip thee as a churl they'd tip a crown?

Thou at home hadst shown that Sultan with emphatic toe the door;

In Morocco thou didst coolly turn thy back upon the Moor.

Long in fiery Fez he lingered, subtle SMITHEZ, being bound

To contract Commercial Treaty with the minions of MAHOUND.

Full eight weeks' negociations smoothed that Treaty's parlous way;

On the fifth July the Sultan swore it should be signed next day.

But the false Frank's furtive whisper at the Sultan's ear was heard.

(When the Frank may foil the Saxon won't he do so? Like a bird!)

And the treacherous Moorish Monarch, to his people's interest blind,

Sold the sham he dubbed his honour, changed the thing he deemed his mind.

"Christian Knight," began the Monarch ("knight" was diplomat for "dog"),

"There is something in your Treaty, that I relish—like roast hog.

Know Morocco is no home for Factories and Colossal Stores;

And the omnipresent Bagman is a bugbear to my Moors!

"All my Cadis, all my ladies, wish at—Hades Western Trade.

You must make large alterations in the Treaty we've half made;

Shape it not in Christian interests, Christian Knight, but in MAHOUND's,

And—incline thine ear!—I'll give thee, Christian, Thirty Thousand Pounds!!!"

Enter black slave bearing Treasure! Rangèd bags of glittering gold!

Then upspake brave EUAN-SMITHEZ. "Hold, base Sultan; minion, hold!

Dost thou think to bribe and buy a Christian Knight? A Paynim plan!

If I take it, thou mayst sell me to a Moorish dog's-meat man!"

Then his steed obeyed his master, and he whinnied loud and free,

Turned his back upon the tempter, caracoled with coltish glee;

Struck out with his heels behind him, smote that slave upon the nose,

Kicked the bags until the bullion in a Danaë shower arose.

Never DON FERNANDO's charger, Bavieca, gave such spring,

In the sawdust-sprinkled circus of AL-WIDDICOMB, the King!

Never did DON GOMERSALEZ fill the Moslem with more fear,

When he smote him o'er the mazzard with his streak-o'-lightning spear!

And the scattered gold flew widely, urged by that prodigious kick,

Smote the Frank behind the throne, although he dodged amazing quick;

Spattered that insulting Sultan, like a splash of London mud,

Blackening his dexter eye, and from his "boko" drawing blood.

Then Sir CARLOS EUAN-SMITHEZ gave that Moorish Sultan beans,

Holding it foul scorn—as did the pluckiest of Christian Queens—

a Christian Knight should take an insult from a turban'd Moor,

Without landing him a hot 'un, without giving him what-for!

Speed thee, speed thee, noble charger! Speed thee faster than the wind!

Stout Sir CARLOS EUAN-SMITHEZ leaves that Moorish Fez behind;

Shakes its sand from off his shoes, and, having wiped the Sultan's eye,

Turns his back, and takes his hook, without e'en wishing him "Good-bye!"

Chorus.—Why was Elaine

Given again?

O DRURIOLAN-

US, please explain!