In damning truth, a proper pry, Since at its head War whets his sword, While Justice puts her ægis by, And eats his brag and bully's word--
A look as far as when befell, What glamored fierce the bridging sea, Each flary crest at push to tell How the white stones shone in Kimberley--
And dimmed your faith and glossed the pledge, And juggled Right with wheedling Wrong; Gave Cant new stand--this privilege: To rest all cause on proof of Strong.
Your pious grab, the half-heart rue, The hush you paid to still a twinge, All snugged within this lofty view-- "He steers the moke who holds the cinch."
But in your big Book that's fable now, Might sleep, kept not this line awake-- "That meddling pasts, ne'er done, somehow, Assess for quits all present stake."
Since just as deft his story wove The yellow Devil in the Rand, As Dame Empire, O, so high suave, Took bleary Mammon by the hand--
And there was nudge and jobbing kiss, And scan o' map and leer of eye: "How came our wits so wide of this-- It lay so near and tempting by?"
While in at gate flowed pick and raff, For catch is life to brotherhood; Each tribesman bent, thro' clean or draff, To swing his carp from out the mud.
And every hoist and tackle told, As sure it ought, where sleek and trim, At scoop and dive for wriggling gold, The big Mouths join and steer the Swim.
While coy, thro' fill of common eye, As fadged with tooth of safer breed, Smug Power yet found crumbs to fry, While sampling Chefs gave dainty heed.
And snacks went 'round for taste and tout: The Home-cook swore the stuff was fine: "Why should such plums be ladled out To grunting clod and boorish swine?"
"Not swell our own and proved Menu? This crowd at board keeps coming still: Suppose we shift, _à son insu_, To nab his joint, and eke the bill?
"Or what's the same--we fix his stew, Put such a sauce in broth and dish-- Such plausive snap and tang o' True-- That none shall dream we came to fish;
"But love of man was all we meant; Till, less in doubt each lode-star gaze, At Heaven's clear, tho' mute intent, By as we head, to hold her pace.
"And this fellow, certes, has sore behoof To take a word from wiser mouths, Who has stretched his crib and smoky roof Whence North-from, down, the zone-line souths;