For he rules the flames; he has done so for long;
And now that he talks of retiring,
Men mourn for the fire-queller cautious and strong,
Whose reign they've so long been admiring.
Clear-headed, cool Captain, great chief M.F.B.,
All London is sorry to lose you;
As kindly as kingly, from prejudice free;
No danger could daunt or confuse you.
As doffing your helmet, and dropping your hose,
You bid us farewell, we all own you
As one of Fiend Fire's most redoubtable foes;
As that thirty years we have known you.
Our Big Boards might job, and our Big Wigs might jaw,
But, spite of their tricks and their cackle,
One Chief we could trust; we were sure that our SHAW
His duty would manfully tackle.
So farewell, great Fire King! Your crown you lay by;
E'en you cannot lay by your credit.
Ignipotent Knight? Well, you ought to stand high
In the next Honour-List! _Punch_ has said it!
* * * * *
OFF TO MASHERLAND.
(_BY OUR OWN GRANDOLPH._)
(SECOND LETTER.--B.)
_THE MAGNUM OPUS._
[Illustration]
_A propos_ of this heading, what a treasure a _Magnum Opal_ would be.
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