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Doublé, doublé, tolla and troubles ! Bums the fii'e, the caldron bubbies Aud the hcll-broth boiling over, We its elementa discover. Froni the bot torn spring to light Brain of wily Muscovite, And his hand, its trauiitlot hid In the skin of peaceful kid, And hifi tongue of treachcry Cancered with a chrowir lis, And ti flint-Btone, huped with art To the semblance of a heart. First stock, these, for broth of war Oooked in kitehen of the Czar. Doublé, doublé, toils and troubles I" linraa the lire, the caldron bubblcs': HiSBed froni otit that seething pot, Comee a whisper, " Trust him not ! Murd'rous is the Islamite ! Slav, ere sniitten, riso and euiite I" Af ter pause, the same voice, " Lo 1 Tslamite ! the Chriatian foe PlotB thy death this vftry Uour ; Strike foc ïife, tiw?u I crush the Giaour [" Doublf , doublé, toils and troubles ! Biirns the lire, the caldron bubbies ! Ötraightway froni ita lips of bale Buret all sounds of mortal wail - Shriek of woman, iufant's cry, Strong nian's shout of agony. Welt'ring, then, pon a flood, Mixed of lurid flame and blood, Lo ! the doomed. the dead the flyiög ; lx) ! the chaser and the flying ; Lo ! the heademan'B grisly knife ; Lo ! the RÜludB of comoly lifo : Awful eycs in dying stare ; Hands lopped off in act of prayer ; LinibleHK trimk and trunkless heaa ; Beauty's flower dishonored - All adown the ghaetly spate, "VS'hirled by murdrr, lust and hn Druuk with venom froru tho. toüj?ie That o'er the land fcarV poison flung. Lo ! the whispVcr's handiwork, Wrought on L'hrifitian and on Turk ; Lol tír Ingrediente, Bleeping got, By (t Holy Russia " for the pot, From its center casting up Yankee cartridge, gun of Krupp ; Tons of Kusnian bounce and'brag Half unfiirled. the Prophot's flag ; Bulla and bears of every natkm, Goring, roaring, "Death! Damnatioü I" Armies swarming 'cross the PrutU : . Not one Iittle word of truth ; Tbc-n a lull, half hope, half fear, And, with eyeballs red and blear, Oozes forth eleek IgnatiefT, Whisp'ring, " War to lts ia grief; But from oath thrre's no recoiling ; Czar has sworn- his blood is boiliug- His grcjit name is compromiBed ; Tbeu, onr troops aro mobilized ; "We'vo borne tíio lat that honor raay, In vam, my Lord. Oh, by the way, Perhapa, if set in different key The beastly Turk nright faü to see The motif of that Iittle song, And take and ning it ! Cuirt 1e wrotig To hoodwink kite in bucIi a pause; Wcll, eing he must, or lose his claws For, as I said, weYrc compromised, And, zounds! your Lordehip-, mobiiizwï ''