The Press.
London, England, 1854-04-15 00:00:00

The first like water, and the last like dirt—
To blast the foe whom you have called to combat,
She debits you with every drop of blood
And every coin of gold.
Lord ABERDEEN.
My liability. I did my best
To save her from this war. She had been saved
Had England's Senate all been Aberdeens.
ST. GEORGE.
And Turkey, under some Prince Turkeywitch,
Had ranked a Russian province.
Lord ABERDEEN. And why not?
You were, they say, a Cappadocian baker,
Who, cheating soldiers of their lawful loaves,
Was hung therefore—how you were made &martyr,
And champion of the faith, is your own business.
But why are you so earnest for the Turk?
ST. GEORGE.
The fiction's worthy of the mind that sees
In Nicholas an honourable man.
But I stand here for England, and my name
Is on her banner. Keep your graceful jests
To lead, as you have said, the House away,
When, short of argument, you try a grin.
Lord ABERDEEN,

And I deny

It strikes me you are something less than civil.
ST. GEORGE.
It may be so ; but ere this year is out
You will have heard some harder truths than that,
When every other man is dressed in mourning.
For one of those who have gone out to die, .
" Where but for you this strife had never been."
Lord ABERDEEN. What would you have me do ?
ST. GEORGE • At least not this.
You've plunged us in a war, which you deplore,
As I believe, sincerely—yes—but why
You do deplore it is a matter patent.
Your friend of forty years—your trusted friend,
Who sends such gracious'messages—whose joy
When you, his tool, are once again in office,
Exceeds decorum—he, whose work you've done
Both in and out of season, and whose aim
You vindicate—that friend is now assailed ;
His capitals ere long will hear the roar
Of cannon, loaded, primed, and laid by you.
I do believe that you deplore this war.
Lord ABERDEEN. And I could stop it at this very moment.
ST. GEORGE.
We all know that, and also on what terms.
But England's honour is in better hands ;
Beware how you would touch it, lest, one day,
She take it in her own—and likewise you.
That were a day, indeed, of shortest shrifts.
;EN. Shrift me no shrifts. lam a Protestant.

'ls'

Lord ABERDEL
ST. GEORGE. And therefore champion of the gentle prince
Who crushes every liberty of conscience,
And whose fierce creed consigns yourself to flames.
Lord ABERDEEN.
T. Those are his errors—l have told him of them,
In that mild language which is suited best
nl' For men's conversion—and, perhaps, some day
My hints may prove not utterly in vain.
;, ST. GEORGE. r:
Uphold him to the last. The sternest wish
Which I will waste on you, Lord Aberdeen,
Is that some day, after the fleets have met,
,
You may be placed within your dear friend's reach.
I have a dragon here, but he is mild
To what your friend will be when he shall learn
Your war has sent some of his ships to atoms.
Lord ABERDEEN.
Horrible thought !
ST. GEORGE.
That haunts you now ?
Lord ABERDEEN.
ST. GEORGE.
T will pack within a single pregnant word
Which will be forced upon you—it may be
Before a month has past.
Lord ABERDEEN. The word ! the word !
ST. GEORGE.
Or do you think that England means to bear
Your cold, half-hearted councils, and the sense
That you must grudge her all her victories?
Lord ABERDEEN.
The word ! I say !
ST. GEORGE. The word is RESIGNATION.
[Lord Aberdeen utters a great ehout of defiance, and providentially wakes
himselfl

1.!, t' ~ . .. ~.,~~.

.

Yet, is there not a worse

I beg you'll give it name.