Part 2 (1/2)

No eulogist of War is he, ”Retrenchment!” is his _dernier cri_.

But tho', to his convictions true, With strength like concentrated Eno, He did his very utmost to Emanc.i.p.ate the Filipino, A fickle public chose Another, Who called the Coloured c.o.o.n his Brother.

_Euclid_

When Egypt was a first-cla.s.s Pow'r-- When Ptolemy was King, that is, Whose benefices used to show'r On all the local charities, And by his liberal subscriptions Was always spoiling the Egyptians--

The Alexandrine School enjoyed A proud and primary position For training scholars not devoid Of geometric erudition; Where arithmetical fanatics Could even _live_ in (mathem)-attics.

The best informed Historians name This Inst.i.tution the possessor Of one who occupied with fame The post of princ.i.p.al Professor, Who had a more expansive brain Than any man--before Hall Caine.

No complex sums of huge amounts Perplexed his algebraic knowledge; With ease he balanced the accounts Of his (at times insolvent) College; He was, without the least romance, A very Blondin of Finance.

In pencil, on his s.h.i.+rt-cuff, he, Without a moment's hesitation, Elucidated easily The most elab'rate calculation (His was.h.i.+ng got, I needn't mention, The local laundry's best attention).

Behind a manner mild as mouse, Blue-spectacled and inoffensive, He hid a judgment and a _nous_ As overwhelming as extensive, And cloaked a soul immune from wrong Beneath an ample ong-bong-pong.

To rows of conscientious youths, Whom 'twas his duty to take care of, He loved to prove the truth of truths Which they already were aware of; They learnt to look politely bored, Where modern students would have snored.

To show that Two and Two make Four, That All is greater than a Portion, Requires no dialectic lore, Nor any cerebral contortion; The public's faith in facts was steady, Before the days of Mrs. Eddy.

But what was hard to overlook (From which Society still suffers) Was all the trouble Euclid took To teach the game of Bridge to duffers.

Insisting, when he got a quorum, On ”_Pons_” (he called it) ”_Asinorum_.”

The guileless methods of his game Provoked his partner's strongest strictures; He hardly knew the cards by name, But realised that some had pictures; Exhausting ev'rybody's patience By his perpetual revocations.

For weary hours, in deep concern, O'er dummy's hand he loved to linger, Denoting ev'ry card in turn, With timid indecisive finger; And stopped to say, at each delay, ”I really don't know _what_ to play!”

He sought, at any cost, to win His ev'ry suit in turn unguarding; He trumped his partner's ”best card in,”

His own egregiously discarding; Remarking sadly, when in doubt, ”I quite forgot the King was out!”

Alert opponents always knew, By what the look upon his face was, When safety lay in leading through, And where, of course, the fatal ace was; a.s.suring the complete successes Of bold but hazardous ”finesses.”

But nowadays we find no trace, From distant a.s.souan to Cairo, To mark the place where dwelt a race Mistaught by so absurd a tyro; And nothing but occult inscriptions Recall the sports of past Egyptians.

Yes, ”_autre temps_” and ”_autre moeurs_,”

”_Ou sont_ indeed _les neiges d'antan_?”

The modern native much prefers Debauching in some _cafe chantant_, Nor ever shows the least ambition To solve a single Proposition.

O Euclid, luckiest of men!

You knew no English interloper; For Allah's Garden was not then The pleasure-ground of Alleh Sloper, Nor (broth-like) had your country's looks Been spoilt by an excess of ”Cooks.”

The Nile to your untutored ears Discoursed in dull but tender tones; Not yours the modern Dahabeahs, Supplied with strident gramophones, Imploring, in a loud refrain, Bill Bailey to come home again.