Volume 103 — THE AMERICAN GANYMEDE.

O plump and pant-striped boy, upborne, Like Ganymede of old, Punch hails you, with your slack, untorn, Fast in the Eagle's hold. It is, indeed, a startling sight That speculation tarries on; And it must give an awful fright To Hebe (alias Harrison!) Up, up to the Olympus, where The White House spreads its board, Whirled high through the electoral air, A boy less long than broad! He looks not like the Tammany breed, That with high tariffs dally; He proves, this Yankee Ganymede, The Democratic rally. This eagle's a colossal fowl, Like Sindbad's monstrous Roc, A bird of prey some say, a-prowl Like that Stymphalian flock, With iron claws and brazen beak, Intent to clutch and collar, Fired with devotion strong, yet weak, To the Almighty Dollar. Pooh! Plunder's not his only joy. He hovered till he saw "A something-pottle-bodied boy," Who spurned McKinley's Law. He stooped and clutched him, fair and good, Flew nigh o'er roof and casement, Whilst the Republicans all stood Agape in sheer amazement. He soars with proudly swelling crest And followed with acclaims, A cause of wonder in the West, And crowing by the Thames. For England, glorying in the sight, Greets Boy and Bird together; Whilst watching with serene delight That big, black, falling feather!