Our Seventy-six the sequel

Of glorious Runnymede !

Grip hands across the ocean,

And should there come a time, -
When needed, — I've a notion

You'll see the "thin red line."
With shoulder pressed to shoulder,
Stanch friends and comrades true,
Old England's scarlet Tommies,
And our bold boys in blue.

Fling out the red cross banner!
Too long has it been furled.
We'll plant " Old Glory" by its side

And then defy the world!

Woe to the foreign foemen

Who front the battle-line,

Where Johnny's cross and Sammy's stars

Their colors bright entwine!

— H. A. Roby.

THE NEW TOREADOR.

The New Toreador.

BRAVO, Jonathan! Now's your time, —
We're getting tired of brag and bluster,

Make a bid for the true sublime,

Add to honor the final lustre.

Banderillos were very well,

Waving scarfs and avoiding dances;

Now comes the struggle,

who can tell

Upon which side are the better chances?

Wait till the ring begins to hum,

Ramping and snorting, stamping, raging,
With blare of trumpets and roll of drums,
But doesn't quite know whom he's engaging.
Wait there, Jonathan, calm and cool;

More than your match some people think him. Never mind that, keep cool, and you'll

Remain unhurt while you deftly pink him.

Steady, Jonathan! All mankind

Gazes at you in silent wonder.

Most, to your virtues deaf and blind,

Think your attitude's just a blunder.

Britain, however, is stanch and true,
On your side are our hearts enlisted!

Maybe, sir, 'twill occur to you

That we might turn the tail you've often twisted.

Blood of our blood, we are all for you,

Against whomever you make attacks on.
The racial tie, though strained, holds true.
"Bully for you!" cries the Anglo-Saxon.
Moral support is all you need,

66

Else had we strode "the ring" together, Until the wide world's saved and freed, Bound are we in a moral tether.

Stand firm, Jonathan, let him come.

What's the use of some little brushes?

Wait till the ring begins to hum

With the wildest rush of his angry rushes.

Stand firm, Jonathan! He's at bay;

His wrath he never can calm or smother.

Stand you firm, for the coming fray

Means death for one or death for the other.

One of his breed, long years ago,

With desperate, deadly, stern insistence,

With equal wrath and greater show

Threatened our national existence.

THE NEW TOREADOR.

Then we baited him, - drove him back, —
The old sea-dogs rushed out to meet him;
Taught him a lesson in attack;

Showed him how Englishmen meant to greet him.

Feebler son of that far-off sire, —

Still he'll fight, for there's no retreating; Feebler, aye, but the self-same ire,

Still a foe who will take some beating. Stand firm, Jonathan, -show your pluck; Sooner or later you're bound to meet him. Face him valiantly, and, with luck

Helping you, you will soundly beat him.

Yours the strength of the Saxon race,
Heart of oak, in its steel nerves banded,

Death and danger you still may face,
Open foe or the underhanded.
Quietly does it. Wait his rush,

Keep your power still undiminished.
Strike, as upon you he seems to crush,
Strike, and the deadly fray is finished.

Bravo, Jonathan! Now's your time.
Gone forever the days of bluster.

Make a bid for the true sublime

With all the power that you can muster. Banderillos were very well,

Waving scarfs and avoiding dances; Now comes the struggle; skill will tell, Conquering weight and compelling chances. - London Fun.