Then sit again, and sigh, and glance:
Then dance again, and kiss:
Thus sev'ral ways the time did pass,
Till ev'ry woman wish'd her place,
And ev'ry man wish'd his.

By this time all were stol'n aside
To counsel and undress the bride;
But that he must not know:
But yet 'twas thought he guest her mind,
And did not mean to stay behind
Above an hour or so.

_Sir John Suckling._

XI

TRIBUTE

THE AHKOND OF SWAT

Who, or why, or which, or _what_,
Is the Ahkond of Swat?

Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or sofa or chair, or Squat,
The Ahkond of Swat?

Is he wise or foolish, young or old?
Does he drink his soup and his coffee cold, or Hot,
The Ahkond of Swat?

Does he sing or whistle, jabber or talk,
And when riding abroad does he gallop or walk, or Trot,
The Ahkond of Swat?

Does he wear a turban, a fez, or a hat?
Does he sleep on a mattress, a bed or a mat, or a Cot,
The Ahkond of Swat?

When he writes a copy in round-hand size,
Does he cross his t's and finish his i's with a Dot,
The Ahkond of Swat?

Can he write a letter concisely clear,
Without a speck or a smudge or smear or a Blot,
The Ahkond of Swat?

Do his people like him extremely well?
Or do they, whenever they can, rebel, or Plot,
The Ahkond of Swat?

If he catches them then, either old or young,
Does he have them chopped in pieces or hung, or Shot,
The Ahkond of Swat?

Do his people prig in the lanes or park?
Or even at times, when days are dark, Garotte?
Oh, the Ahkond of Swat?

Does he study the wants of his own dominion?
Or doesn't he care for public opinion a Jot,
The Ahkond of Swat?

To amuse his mind do his people show him
Pictures, or any one's last new poem, or What,
The Ahkond of Swat?

At night if he suddenly screams and wakes,
Do they bring him only a few small cakes, or a Lot,