PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Volume 109, July 6, 1895. edited by Sir Francis Burnand

A work of Peace, whereto from near and far Gather the iron-bosomed brood of war, Like new Stymphalian birds, whose claws and wings The warrior welcomes and the poet sings. Oh, gentle Peace, how strange in our strange day. Thy mailèd retinue, thine armed array! Those flower-deck'd obelisks, that silken rope,— Bright illustrations of the Tales of Hope,— The royal speeches and the loyal cheers, Disguise misgivings as they silence fears. But Denmark's memories, and the thoughts of France, As through the stream that yacht's white bows advance, Breaking that slender cord from bank to bank, Might move reflections strange. Yet let us thank Adventurous skill which gives our ships to-day A shorter passage and a safer way! Not war alone, but trade, will take the track That shuns the wild and stormy Skager Rak; And may Brunsbüttel's now familiar name Be little linked with Empire's big War-Game May battle-echoes in the Baltic cease, And the Canal be a new Path for Peace