Liverpool, 24th September, 1896. As when, for lack of leaders, men in fear Cower in their tents, and are disconsolate, And hear far off the thunder-roll of fate Sound from the distance nearer and more near, Sudden they pring to arms, with cheer on cheer, For some old man who long apart hath sate—Hero in battles—warrior in debate Rises, and handles sword, and tries his spear—So now upon its feet the nation stands, And young men feel the blood leap up for shame, And strong men gird their swords and are While he who 53 Of Bast and West, dons armouein God's name ile he who once was Trumpet to the land:
Against the Turk's inexpiable wrong.
It is amusing to read the notices of the revival of Cymbeline by Sic Henry Irving, and it is instructive to see what a much better play Shakespeare would have made of it if he could have got the dramatic critics of the London Press to help him.
The drawings in this week's Punch are good, but the letter-press is very tedious.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.