ODERN MOORISH BALLAD, AFTER THE FASHION OF BON GAULTIER._]

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! Ranged 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 Danae 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 insulti