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 %* For sale ly all Booksellers. Sent, post-paid, on receipt of 
 price by ttie Publishers, 
 
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LEISURE -DAY RHYMES. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN" GODFKEY SAXE. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, 
 
 LATE TICKNOR & FIELDS, AND FIELDS, OSGOOD, & Co. 
 
 1875. 
 

 COPYKIGHT, 1875. 
 
 BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO. 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & Co., 
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
TO 
 
 |\ftj) (Soob JT runt), 
 FREDERICK LOCKER, ESQ., 
 
 THE MOST ACCOMPLISHED OF LIVING WRITERS 
 OF 
 
 VERS DE SOCIETEf, 
 
 2Tfjts Book 
 
 OF 
 
 LEISURE-DAY RHYMES 
 
 IS VERY CORDIALLY INSCRIBED. 
 
 J. G. S. 
 
 28 First Place, Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
 M189019 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 LEISURE-DAY EHYMES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHORUS OF THE DRYADS 11 
 
 HERE AND HEREAFTER 16 
 
 MY BOOKS .20 
 
 ESSE QUAM VlDERI 23 
 
 THE DEAD LETTER ....... 26 
 
 To A CITY COUSIN ABOUT TO BE MARRIED . . 29 
 
 How TO Woo AND WIN 32 
 
 PARTING WORDS 35 
 
 MISERERE DOMINE 38 
 
 THE DUKE S STRATAGEM 41 
 
 TEMPORA MUTANTUR 44 
 
 A CHARMING WOMAN 47 
 
 "JUSTINE, YOU LOVE ME NOT!" 50 
 
 "BE GOOD TO YOURSELF" 53 
 
 To A BACHELOR FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY ... 55 
 
 LOVE AND MONEY 58 
 
 ODE 61 
 
 PART OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH. ... 64 
 
 ODE TO THE LEGISLATURE 68 
 
 WHY : A SONNET 72 
 
 LAURA .73 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 FABLES AND FAIRY-TALES. 
 
 THE TWO ANGELS 77 
 
 THE GOLD-FINGERED BRAHMIN 80 
 
 THE FARMER AND THE MAGIC RING .... 84 
 
 THE GRUMBLING PEASANTS . . . . 87 
 
 THE LITTLE GLASS SHOE 91 
 
 THE ROSE AND THE FAIRY 95 
 
 THE TWO SPARROWS 98 
 
 LOVE AND CARE 101 
 
 DEATH INSURANCE . . . . . . .104 
 
 THE CADI S STRATAGEM 107 
 
 THE KING S ASTROLOGER 110 
 
 No ADMITTANCE 113 
 
 THE STRAY CAMEL 116 
 
 THE FIVE KNAVES 119 
 
 THE AMBITIOUS VINE 123 
 
 THYRSIS AND AMARANTH 126 
 
 A DOUBLE DISTRESS 129 
 
 THE TWO KINGS 132 
 
 JUPITER AND HIS CHILDREN 135 
 
 Nous ET Vous 138 
 
 THE FAIRY AND THE THREE WISHES . . . .141 
 
 THE RIVAL QUEENS 145 
 
 PROVIDENCE IMPARTIAL 148 
 
 THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES . . . . 150 
 
 JUST ONE DEFECT 151 
 
 LOVE AND POETRY 153 
 
 REASON VERSUS CUSTOM 154 
 
 THE SULTAN AND THE Ex- VIZIER . . . . 157 
 
 THE TWO FRIENDS 159 
 
 PERSEVERE AND PROSPER 161 
 
 LAKE SARATOGA 165 
 
 THE IMPARTIAL JUDGE .... 167 
 
CONTENTS. Vil 
 
 THE ELEPHANT S SERMON 169 
 
 THE CONNOISSEURS 172 
 
 THE ROYAL CONCERT 175 
 
 THE BARNYARD CRITICS 178 
 
 THE FIGHTING COCKS 181 
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ORGAN .... 184 
 
 THE LIZARDS 187 
 
 FLINT AND STEEL 190 
 
 THE LACE-WEAVERS 192 
 
 THE SHAM LIBRARY 195 
 
 THE GOAT AND THE HORSE 198 
 
 THE TURKEY AND THE CROW 201 
 
 THE BEE AND THE CUCKOO 203 
 
 THE SILKWORM AND THE CATERPILLAR . . . 205 
 
 THE MONKEY-SHOWMAN 208 
 
 THE OIL-MERCHANT S Ass 211 
 
 THE MONKEY-TOURIST 213 
 
 TRANSLATIONS AND PARAPHRASES. 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF LOVE 219 
 
 THE TRAVELLER AND THE STATUE .... 222 
 
 THE KING S GOBLET 225 
 
 THE GOLDSMITH S DAUGHTER 232 
 
 THE GOOD DOG OF BRETTE 235 
 
 THIRTEEN AT TABLE 238 
 
 MY BALD HEAD 2-11 
 
 GIRLS ! PASS ALONG ! 243 
 
 MUCH LOVE 246 
 
 THE PUPPETS 249 
 
 THE PRIDE OF BEAUTY 252 
 
 LITTLE PETER THE PORTER ..... 255 
 
 THE HEN AND THE HONEY-BEE 258 
 
Vlil CONTENTS. 
 
 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 MAIDEN MANNERS 2G1 
 
 IN FAVOR OF MAKING NEW FRIENDS ... 261 
 
 ON A NIGGARDLY FELLOW 262 
 
 ON A MISER 262 
 
 ON A CRITIC 263 
 
 ON A QUIBBLING SUPPLICANT 263 
 
 ON A COXCOMB 264 
 
 ON A QUACK DOCTOR 264 
 
 ON A LITIGIOUS MAN 264 
 
 To A BORROWING FRIEND 265 
 
 ON A SUICIDE 265 
 
 ON CHEAP PURCHASING 265 
 
 ON A SPENDTHRIFT 266 
 
 To AN UGLY WOMAN WITH A SWEET VOICE . . 266 
 
 THE TRUTHFUL PRETENDER 267 
 
 ON DINING WITH STRANGERS 267 
 
 ON A RICH MAN S COUNTRY-SEAT 267 
 
 ON A POOR MAN OF EXTRAVAGANT HABITS 268 
 
LEISURE-DAY RHYMES. 
 
CHORUS OF THE DRYADS. 
 
 FIRST DRYAD. 
 
 WHO are these who come again 
 Strolling in our dark domain 1 
 
 SECOND DRYAD. 
 
 Lovers, if I guess aright ; 
 And I saw them yesternight, 
 Sitting by yon chestnut-tree ; 
 And I marvelled much to see 
 All I saw ; and more to hear 
 All that fell - 
 
 FIRST DRYAD. 
 
 Now, tell me, dear, 
 
 What it means, that wondrous word 
 Which so oft I plainly heard 
 
1 2 CHORUS OF THE DRYADS. 
 
 (As, unseen, I watched above); 
 Tell me truly what is " love," 
 What of pleasure it may bring, 
 Since it seemed so sweet a thing ; 
 What therein may lurk of pain, 
 Since, anon, they sighed again ; 
 What of shame, that with a blush 
 She, the trembler, whispered, " Hush ! " 
 (As assailed with sudden fear.) 
 " Darling ! don t the Dryads hear 1 " 
 
 THIRD DRYAD. 
 
 True as truth ! It chanced that I, 
 Sleeping on a branch anigh, 
 Heard it all ; for I awoke 
 When their words the silence broke. 
 Faith ! the lover answered well : 
 " Sweet ! the Dryads never tell ! " 
 
 FIRST DRYAD. 
 
 Pan ! I own the matter seems 
 Queer as aught we see in dreams ; 
 Tell me plainly (older you ; 
 And it follows wiser too !) 
 
CHORUS OF THE DRYADS. 13 
 
 All about it ; I would know 
 What it is can witch them so ! 
 
 THIRD DRYAD. 
 
 Nay, I know not. All I learn 
 These good eyes and ears discern. 
 For the rest, beyond my ken 
 Are the ways of mortal men ; 
 And for love, if it contain 
 More of pleasure or of pain, 
 All my wits have brought about 
 Only this, that still I doubt ! 
 
 SECOND DRYAD. 
 
 Strange the awful oaths I heard 
 Following many a tender word 
 That from either smoothly slips 
 Through their seldom-severed lips, 
 In the little pauses when 
 They were free to speak again. 
 Yet I learn from such as you, 
 (Tell me plainly, is it true ?) 
 That whate er of bliss it bring, 
 Love is but a slippery thing; 
 
14 CHOKUS OF THE DRYADS. 
 
 That, with mortal men and maids, 
 Kisses fail when beauty fades ; 
 And this Love, with scarce a sigh, 
 Dies when Youth and Pleasure die ! 
 
 THIRD DRYAD. 
 
 Nay, I know not. Well content 
 With the good the gods have lent 
 To our higher, happier kind, 
 Little, sooth ! am I inclined 
 All the miseries to trace 
 That afflict the human race. 
 Safe amid our leafy bowers, 
 Sweetly flow the rosy hours, 
 While in friendship s calm estate, 
 Free from love, as free from hate, 
 Here our happy lives are passed, 
 Clear of passion 
 
 FOURTH DRYAD. 
 
 Not so fast ! 
 
 / have heard the tale, you see, 
 Of Pan and wanton Dryope ; 
 And hapless Syrinx, who, indeed, 
 
CHORUS OF THE DRYADS. 15 
 
 To scape his love became a reed 
 
 Most musical of tender woe. 
 
 Ah ! which of us can surely know 
 
 That she is safe 1 For me, I own 
 
 Some homage to this god unknown 
 
 Whose wondrous potency controls 
 
 Both mortal and immortal souls. 
 
 His smile I crave ; his frown I fear ; 
 
 So, be all lovers welcome here ! 
 
 May fragrant flowers a carpet spread 
 
 Whereon their feet may softly tread ; 
 
 May every tall, majestic tree, 
 
 To guard their tryst, a fortress be ; 
 
 And every nymph that views the scene 
 
 Hold in her hand a leafy screen 
 
 To form a dense o erarching roof 
 
 The blabbing moon to keep aloof; 
 
 And not a Dryad ever tell 
 
 The secret that she knows so well ! 
 
HERE AND HEREAFTER. 
 
 " SAY, what shall I believe 1 " my neighbor said 
 
 Late yesternight, when light discourse had led 
 
 To graver themes. " For me, I stand perplexed, 
 
 While fierce polemics each upon his text 
 
 Of Scriptural foundation builds his creed, 
 
 And cries, Lo ! here is Truth ! the Truth ! I need 
 
 Some surer way than theologians teach 
 
 In dogmas of the sects." I answered, " Each 
 
 Must do his own believing. As for me, 
 
 My creed is short as any man s may be ; 
 
 T is written in The Sermon on the Mount, 
 
 And in the Pater-Noster ; I account 
 
 The words Our Father (had we lost the rest 
 
 Of that sweet prayer, the briefest and the best 
 
 In all the liturgies) of higher worth, 
 
 To ailing souls, than all the creeds on earth. 
 
HERE AND HEREAFTER. 17 
 
 A Father loves his children that I know 
 And fain would make them happy. Even so 
 Our Heavenly Father as we clearly learn 
 From his dear Word, and dimly may discern 
 From his fair Works for us, his children, weak 
 To walk unhelped, and little prone to seek 
 In all our ways what best deserves his smile 
 Of approbation, careth all the while 
 With love ineffable. T is little more 
 Of his designs I venture to explore 
 Save with the eye of Faith. With that I see 
 (Aided by Reason s glasses) what may be 
 Hereafter, in that Coming Kingdom when 
 The King shall justify his ways with men 
 On earth." 
 
 " And what," my doubting friend inquired, 
 " Shall be our destiny ] " 
 
 " No tongue inspired 
 
 Hath plainly told us that. I cannot tell 
 It is not given to know ivhere we shall dwell ; 
 I only know and humbly leave the rest 
 To Wisdom Infinite that what is best 
 For each will be his place ; that we shall wear 
 In the Beyond the character we bear 
 
18 HERE AND HEREAFTER. 
 
 In passing ; with what meliorating change 
 Of mind and soul, within the endless range 
 Of their activities, I cannot tell. 
 I know Our Father doeth all things well, 
 And loves and changes not." 
 
 " Alas ! we know 
 
 The earth is rife with unavailing woe ! "- 
 My friend made answer. " How can such things be ? 
 The Father being perfect, we should see 
 His government the same " 
 
 " Would he not err, 
 The hasty judge, who, having seen the stir 
 In the first Act of some well-ordered play, 
 Should cry, * Preposterous ! and "go away 
 And criticise the whole (four Acts unseen !) 
 As ill-contrived, inconsequent, and mean 1 " 
 
 " Something germane to this," my daughter said, 
 
 "In an old Jewish tale I lately read : 
 
 To pious Bildad, deeply mourning one 
 
 Whom he had deeply loved, his only son, 
 
 Who of the plague had died that very day, 
 
 Came his friend Amos, saying, Tell me, pray, 
 
 W T hat grief is this that bows thy reverend head 1 
 
HERE AND HEREAFTER. 19 
 
 The mourner answered, pointing to the bed 
 
 Whereon was laid the body of the youth, 
 
 Behold, my friend, the cause ! good cause, in sooth, 
 
 For one to weep, who sees his hopes decay, 
 
 The work of years all blasted in a day, 
 
 As there thou secst ! Amos, answering, said, 
 
 * T is true, indeed, thine only son is dead j 
 
 And as thy love even so thy grief is great ; 
 
 But tell me, friend, doth not thy faith abate 
 
 In some degree the sharpness of thy pain ] 
 
 4 Alas ! said Bildad, how can I refrain 
 
 From these despairing tears, when thus I find 
 
 My anxious care to cultivate the mind, 
 
 The wondrous gifts and graces of my son, 
 
 Untimely doomed to death, is all undone 1 
 
 Touched by his sorrow, Amos sat awhile 
 
 In silent thought ; then, with a beaming smile, 
 
 As one who offers manifest relief, 
 
 He said, Bildad ! let it soothe thy grief, 
 
 That He who gave the talents thou hast sought 
 
 To cherish, and by culture wouldst have wrought 
 
 To highest excellence in this thy son, 
 
 Will surely finish what thou hast begun ! " 
 
MY BOOKS. 
 
 An ! well I love these books of mine, 
 
 That stand so trimly on their shelves, 
 With here and there a broken line 
 
 (Fat " quartos " jostling modest " twelves"), 
 A curious company, I own ; 
 
 The poorest ranking with their betters : 
 In brief, a thing almost unknown, 
 
 A Pure Democracy of Letters. 
 
 A motley gathering are they, 
 
 Some fairly worth their weight in gold ; 
 Some just too good to throw away ; 
 
 Some scarcely worth the place they hold. 
 Yet well I love them, one and all, 
 
 These friends so meek and unobtrusive, 
 Who never fail to come at call, 
 
 Nor (if I scold them) turn abusive ! 
 
MY BOOKS. 21 
 
 If I have favorites here and there, 
 
 And, like a monarch, pick and choose, 
 I never meet an angry stare 
 
 That this I take and that refuse ; 
 No discords rise my soul to vex 
 
 Among these peaceful book-relations, 
 Nor envious strife of age or sex 
 
 To mar my quiet lucubrations. 
 
 And they have still another merit, 
 
 Which otherwhere one vainly seeks, 
 Whatever may be an author s spirit, 
 
 He never uninvited speaks ; 
 And should he prove a fool or clown, 
 
 Unworth the precious time you re spending, 
 How quickly yon can " put him down," 
 
 Or "shut him up," without offending ! 
 
 Here pleasing sight ! the touchy brood 
 
 Of critics from dissension cease ; 
 And stranger still ! no more at feud, 
 
 Polemics smile, and keep the peace. 
 See ! side by side, all free from strife 
 
 (Save what the heavy page may smother), 
 
22 MY BOOKS. 
 
 The gentle " Christians" who in life, 
 
 For conscience sake, had burned each other ! 
 
 I call them friends, these quiet books ; 
 
 And well the title they may claim, 
 Who always give me cheerful looks j 
 
 (What living friend has done the same ?) 
 And, for companionship, how few, 
 
 As these, my cronies ever present, 
 Of all the friends I ever knew 
 
 Have been so useful and so pleasant ] 
 
ESSE QUAM VIDERI. 
 
 " To be, not seem ! " the phrase is old, 
 And looks heroic, t is confessed ; 
 
 And yet, for all its gloss of gold, 
 
 T will scarcely stand the final test j 
 
 For, in effect, full many a truth 
 
 Is in the seeming, not the sooth. 
 
 Be false, then 1 No ! let Truth appear 
 
 In her own guise, if so it be 
 Her words are such as men may hear 
 
 Unhurt, and such as harm not thee ; 
 But guard thy seeming, nor reveal 
 The fault that silence would conceal. 
 
 " Open and honest ! " sayest thou : 
 
 " Why to my neighbor not make known 
 
24 ESSE QUAM VIDERI. 
 
 All ugly soul-spots I avow 
 
 To my own conscience as my own ; 
 Plain as the freckles he may trace, 
 Unasked, upon my hand or face 1 " 
 
 I answer thus : The Mighty One 
 Who made thy best, immortal part, 
 
 Made it invisible, that none 
 
 May see thy mind or read thy heart, 
 
 Save as thou wilt ; else were thy soul 
 
 In others , not thine own control. 
 
 T is well that God alone can see 
 The hearts of men that he has made 
 
 Within their breasts ; since only he 
 With their infirmities has weighed 
 
 Their sins, to human frailty just, 
 
 Knowing full well we are but dust. 
 
 And as we hide, for very shame, 
 
 With garments cunning Art doth lend, 
 
 Whatever of our fleshly frame, 
 
 Undraped, would mortal eyes offend 
 
 (While to the Maker, ne er the less, 
 
 His power and wisdom we confess); 
 
ESSE QUAM VIDERL 25 
 
 So let our souls which, all unclad, 
 Though fair as souls on earth may be, 
 
 Were still a sight to make men sad, 
 Unmeet for human eyes to see 
 
 In modest drapery conceal 
 
 The faults t were shameful to reveal. 
 
 Nay, as, with no unlawful arts, 
 
 We deck our forms to make them fair, 
 
 Who shall aver our wayward hearts 
 May not receive an equal care, 
 
 That, like our bodies, they may be 
 
 In seemly plight for company 1 
 
THE DEAD LETTER. 
 
 AND can it be 1 Ah, yes, I see, 
 
 T is thirty years and better 
 Since Mary Morgan sent to me 
 
 This musty, musky letter. 
 A pretty hand (she could n t spell), 
 
 As any man must vote it ; 
 And t was, as I remember well, 
 
 A pretty hand that wrote it ! 
 
 How calmly now I view it all, 
 As memory backward ranges, 
 
 The talks, the walks, that I recall, 
 And then the postal changes ! 
 
 How well I loved her I can guess 
 (Since cash is Cupid s hostage), 
 
THE DEAD LETTER. 27 
 
 Just one-and-sixpence nothing less 
 This letter cost in postage ! 
 
 The love that wrote at such a rate 
 
 (By Jove ! it was a steep one !) 
 Five hundred notes (I calculate) 
 
 Was certainly a deep one ; 
 And yet it died of slow decline 
 
 Perhaps suspicion chilled it ; 
 I ve quite forgotten if t was mine 
 
 Or Mary s flirting killed it. 
 
 At last the fatal message came : 
 
 " My letters, please return them 
 And yours of course you wish the same 
 
 I 11 send them back or burn them." 
 Two precious fools, I must allow, 
 
 Whichever was the greater : 
 I wonder if I m wiser now, 
 
 Some seven lustres later ? 
 
 And this alone remains ! Ah, well ! 
 
 These words of warm affection, 
 The faded ink, the pungent smell, 
 
 Are food for deep reflection. 
 
28 THE DEAD LETTEE. 
 
 They tell of how the heart contrives 
 To change with fancy s fashion, 
 
 And how a drop of musk survives 
 The strongest human passion ! 
 
TO A CITY COUSIN ABOUT TO BE MARRIED. 
 
 (8. E.) 
 
 Is it true, what they tell me, my beautiful cousin, 
 
 You are going to be married 1 have settled the day? 
 That the cards are all printed] the wedding-dress 
 chosen 1 
 
 And everything fixed for an evening in May ? 
 Ah well ! just imagine, had / been a Turk, 
 
 And you but, no matter, t is idle to whine ; 
 In the purest of bosoms some envy may lurk, 
 
 And I feel a little (I own it !) in mine ! 
 
 T is over ! the struggle was but for a minute ; 
 
 And now let me give you, dear cousin, I pray, 
 A word of advice, if there s anything in it, 
 
 Accept it ; if not, you can throw it away. 
 An excellent maxim is " crede experto " ; 
 
 Which means (since your Latin I venture to doubt) 
 
30 TO A CITY COUSIN ABOUT TO BE MARRIED. 
 
 For practical wisdom t is best to refer to 
 
 A teacher who knows what he s talking about. 
 
 C est moi ! I Ve been married this many a year ; 
 
 And know rather more than a bachelor can, 
 And more I suppose it is equally clear 
 
 Than a very young wife or a new-married man. 
 Of course there 11 be matters to worry and vex, 
 
 But woman is mighty, and Patience endures ; 
 And ours recollect is the (much) " softer sex," 
 
 Though we (not very gallantly) say it of yours ! 
 
 The strong should be merciful ! Woman we find, 
 
 Though weaker in body, surpassing us still 
 In virtue ; and strong very strong in her mind, 
 
 (When she knows what it is !) not to mention her 
 
 will. 
 Be gentle ! How hard you will find it to bear 
 
 When your husband is wrong ; and as difficult, quite, 
 In the other contingency, not at all rare, 
 
 When you re forced, in your heart, to confess he was 
 right ! 
 
 Be careful of trifles : a maxim of weight 
 
 In questions affecting the heart or the head ; 
 
TO A CITY COUSIN ABOUT TO BE MARRIED. 31 
 
 In wedlock, consider how often the fate 
 
 Of the gravest affairs may depend on a thread. 
 
 On a button perhaps ! Ah ! the " conjugal tie " 
 Should never be strained to its ultimate test ; 
 
 Full many a matron has found, with a sigh, 
 That the fixture was barely a button, at best ! 
 
 A truce to our jesting. While friends by the dozen 
 Their kind gratulations are fain to employ ; 
 
 None more than your poet your mirth-loving 
 
 cousin 
 Puts his heart in the words while he s " wishing you 
 
 joy." 
 
 Quite through to its close may your conjugal life 
 Maintain the impressions with which it began ; 
 
 The women still saying, " I envy the wife," 
 And husbands exclaiming, " I envy the man ! " 
 
 May 25, 1870. 
 
HOW TO WOO AND WIN. 
 
 WOULD you play the manly lover, 
 (Said a graybeard to his son), 
 
 List, my lad, while I discover 
 How a maiden should be won. 
 
 Woo her not with boastful, phrases, 
 Lest you teach her lip to sneer ; 
 
 Still a suitor s warmest praises 
 In his conduct should appear. 
 
 Woo her not with senseless sighing ; 
 
 Maidens love a laughing eye : 
 Tell her not that you are " dying," 
 
 Lest she, mocking, bid you die ! 
 
HOW TO WOO AND WIN. 33 
 
 Woo her not with weakly whining 
 
 O er your poverty of pelf, 
 Lest she answer by declining 
 
 Both your sorrows and yourself ! 
 
 Woo her with a manly wooing ; 
 
 Giving hostages to Fate, 
 All the heart s devotion showing 
 
 By its strength to work and wait. 
 
 Woo her not with idle prattle 
 
 Whom you fain would make your wife ; 
 But with proof that in life s battle 
 
 You are equal to the strife. 
 
 Like the knight whose simple suing 
 
 Won the lady (says the tale), 
 When, despite their wordy wooing, 
 
 All the rest were doomed to fail : 
 
 " Lady ! " quoth the bold Knight Errant, 
 
 " Brief the story I shall tell : 
 I would wed thee ; here s the warrant 
 
 I shall love and serve thee well ! " 
 
34 HOW TO WOO AND WIN. 
 
 And, behold ! his dexter fingers 
 Crush a horse-shoe, like a reed ! 
 
 And within her lap there lingers 
 All the gold the twain can need ! 
 
PARTING WORDS. 
 
 FAREWELL ! Howe er it fare with me, 
 (But God is good !) I pray for thee 
 Such peace as Heaven may grant to one 
 Who, basking in the summer sun 
 Of pleasure, for life s nobler part 
 Bears evermore a wintry heart. 
 
 And if I lose what could not last, 
 With little grief that all is past, 
 For me, I deem my sin was small : 
 No broken pledges I recall ; 
 No shaken constancy \ no Word 
 Of faith, save what might be inferred 
 From lips that did but warmly kiss, 
 Or speak, no other sense than this, 
 That thou wert beautiful, and seemed 
 The bright ideal I had dreamed 
 
36 PARTING WORDS. 
 
 My kind, but somewhat tardy Fate , 
 Would .send, one day, to be my mate. 
 And, for a while, I looked to thee, 
 With fond expectancy, to see 
 (As suited with thy handsome face, 
 Fair to excess !) the inward grace, 
 The noble soul, the brilliant mind, 
 That form the flower of womankind. 
 
 The proverb says, " We live and learn " ; 
 And so it came that I discern 
 (Since now I read thee, through and through, 
 With eyes somewhat love-blinded, too !) 
 A nature shallow, fickle, cold ; 
 A judgment weak, yet over-bold; 
 A heart that yearns, when passion-moved, 
 To love 1 No ! only to be loved ! 
 And yet receives the precious store, 
 Unconscious of the costly ore, 
 As an unthinking child might cry 
 For diamonds flashing in its e} 7 e, 
 Whom bits of glass had pleased as well ! 
 
 I thank the Fate who broke the spell ; 
 I thank thee for the petty spite, 
 That for a small, imagined slight, 
 
PAETING WOKDS. 37 
 
 (Though graver sins had passed unseen !) 
 At last dethroned my Fancy s queen, 
 And left me musing how a face 
 Which once had worn so sweet a grace 
 Could, in a moment, (wondrous change !) 
 Its warmest worshipper estrange ! 
 
MISERERE DOMINE! 
 
 A HYMN. 
 
 HAVE pity, Lord ! we humbly cry, 
 With trembling voice, and tearful eye ; 
 Thou know st our ignorance and sin, 
 And what by grace we might have been ; 
 All all is known, Lord, to thee ; 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
 Our public walks and private ways ; 
 The follies of our youthful days ; 
 Our manhood s errors, every stain 
 Of lust and pride to thee are plain ; 
 For who, Lord ! can hide from thee ? 
 Miserere Domine / 
 
MISEKEEE DOMINE ! 39 
 
 Too late we mourn our wasted hours, 
 Neglected gifts, perverted powers ; 
 Affections warm, of heavenly birth, 
 Lavished, alas ! on toys of earth : 
 How far estranged, Lord, from thee ! 
 x Miserere Domine ! 
 
 How oft, Lord ! things bright and fair 
 To human sight, are but a snare ; 
 A gilded bait to lure the soul 
 Within the subtle Fiend s control : 
 But there is refuge, Lord, in thee ! 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
 0, let us never feel in vain 
 From thy dear hand the warning pain ; 
 The Father s stripes upon us laid 
 In mercy, for thy children s aid : 
 Teach us in all thy hand to see : 
 
 Miserere Domine I 
 
 " Our Father ! " thou dost bid us pray ; 
 As children who are prone to stray 
 
40 MISERERE DOMINE ! 
 
 In devious paths, whence we retreat 
 With garments torn and bleeding feet 
 Our Father ! let us fly to thee : 
 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
 OUR FATHER ! ever-blessed name ! 
 To thee we bring our sin and shame ; 
 Weak though we be, perverse of will, 
 Thou art our gracious Father still, 
 Who knowest well how frail we be. 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
THE DUKE S STRATAGEM. 
 
 A MILANESE TALE. 
 
 THE Duke of Milan Galeazzo named 
 Supremely loved Correggia, widely famed 
 For every charm a maiden might possess ; 
 And, in her heart, she loved the Duke no less 
 Though each, awhile (so churlish Fate designed 
 To mar their bliss) knew not the other s mind, 
 But hoped and feared in silence ; till, at last, 
 When many a moon of trembling doubt was passed, 
 And Gossip vainly had essayed to seek 
 The cause of Galeazzo s pallid cheek 
 And moody air, some ladies of the Court 
 Addressed him boldly thus (as half in sport 
 And half in earnest) : " Sire ! we all can see 
 Your Highness is in love ! and now, that we 
 
42 THE DUKE S STEATAGEM. 
 
 May pay our loyal service where the same 
 
 Is justly due, we fain would know the name 
 
 Of her, the happy lady of your choice ! " 
 
 Surprised, abashed, the Duke, with faltering voice, 
 
 In civil sort such merry answers made, 
 
 As best might serve the question to evade. 
 
 In vain ! as one by one their weapons fail, 
 
 With fresh artillery they the Duke assail, 
 
 Until, at length, t is clear the man must yield, 
 
 By clamor overpowered, or fly the field ! 
 
 "A truce, a truce ! " he cried, " for mercy s sake ! 
 
 Now, please you all ! a banquet I will make, 
 
 Such as may suit so fair a company : 
 
 Come, one and all, and see what you shall see, 
 
 To aid perchance to end your merry quest." 
 
 And all said " Aye ! " Correggia with the rest. 
 
 The banquet over, Galeazzo set 
 
 Upon the board a curious cabinet 
 
 In which, upon a panel, was portrayed, 
 
 In happiest art, the picture of a maid 
 
 (Some clever painter s fancy). " There ! " said he, 
 
 All ye who choose, my lady-love may see ! " 
 
 Now, when the fair Correggia lingering last, 
 
 For fearfulness observed that all who passed 
 
THE DUKE S STRATAGEM. 43 
 
 The pictured girl, in silence turned away 
 
 As from a face unknown, in deep dismay 
 
 She took her turn to gaze ; when, God of Grace ! 
 
 She saw no painted image, but the face 
 
 Which her own features, radiantly fair, 
 
 Reflected, blushing, in a mirror there ! 
 
 And so it was the two true loves were known ; 
 
 And so it came to pass that not alone 
 
 The happy Galeazzo filled the ducal throne ! 
 
TEMPORA MUTANTUR. 
 
 " THE times are changed ! " long, long ago, 
 
 A Roman graybeard sighed ; 
 " And still, as seasons wax and wane, 
 
 We change with time and tide." 
 And I (alas ! that I must own 
 
 My locks are growing scanter !) 
 In pensive retrospect repeat, 
 
 tempora mutantur ! 
 
 Where now are all the village belles 
 
 1 sonneteered of yore 1 
 
 Gone, with the fashion of the boots 
 And bonnets which they wore ; 
 
 Their dimpled cheeks are wrinkled now, 
 And Time the Disenchanter ! 
 
TEMPORA MUTANTUR. 45 
 
 Has dimmed the eyes that dazzled mine, 
 tempora mutantur ! 
 
 0, how we raved of constancy, 
 
 Melinda May and I ! 
 I ve quite forgotten which was first 
 
 To break the tender tie ; 
 I know that I survived the shock, 
 
 (Though sworn to die instanter !) 
 And Linda lived to love again, 
 
 tempora mutantur ! 
 
 Good Dr. Proser, where is he ? 
 
 Whose logic clear and strong 
 The vestry praised, nor ever deemed 
 
 The sermon over-long, 
 Until they heard, and quite preferred 
 
 The Reverend Rousing Ranter ; 
 To whom succeeded Parson Prim, 
 
 tempora mutantur f 
 
 Yes, times are changed ; but one can dine, 
 And Mag s the best of cooks. 
 
46 TEMPORA MUTANTUR. 
 
 " No dinner 1 " John ! " Sir, if you please, 
 Mag s gone to go for Snooks ! " 
 
 And wife ? " She s gone along with Mag." 
 John ! bring me that decanter ! 
 
 By Jove ! I 11 go and vote for Jones ! 
 tempora mutantur ! 
 
A CHARMING WOMAN. 
 
 A CHARMING woman, I ve heard it said 
 
 By other women as light as she ; 
 But all in vain I puzzle my head 
 
 To find wherein the charm may be. 
 Her face, indeed, is pretty enough, 
 
 And her form is quite as good as the best. 
 Where Nature has given the bony stuff, 
 
 And a clever milliner all the rest. 
 
 Intelligent 1 Yes, in a certain way ; 
 
 With a feminine gift of ready speech ; 
 And knows very well what not to say 
 
 Whenever the theme transcends her reach. 
 But turn the topic on things to wear, 
 
 From an opera cloak to a role de nuit, 
 
48 A CHAKMING WOMAN. 
 
 Hats, basques, or bonnets, t will make you stare 
 To see how fluent the lady can be ! 
 
 Her laugh is hardly a thing to please ; 
 
 For an honest laugh must always start 
 From a gleesome mood, like a sudden breeze, 
 
 And hers is purely a matter of art, 
 A muscular motion made to show 
 
 What Nature designed to lie beneath 
 The finer mouth ; but what can she do, 
 
 If that is ruined to show the teeth 1 
 
 To her seat in church a good half-mile 
 When the day is fine she is sure to go, 
 
 Arrayed, of course, in the latest style 
 La mode de Paris has got to show ; 
 
 And she puts her hands on the velvet pew 
 (Can hands so white have a taint of sin ?) 
 
 And thinks how her prayer-book s tint of blue 
 Must harmonize with her milky skin ! 
 
 Ah ! what shall we say of one who walks 
 In fields of flowers to choose the weeds 1 
 
A CHAKMING WOMAN. 49 
 
 Reads authors of whom she never talks, 
 And talks of authors she never reads 1 
 
 She s a charming woman, I ve heard it said 
 By other women as light as she ; 
 
 But all hi vain I puzzle my head 
 To find wherein the charm may be. 
 
"JUSTINE, YOU LOVE ME NOT ! " 
 
 "Helas ! vous ne m aimez pas." PIRON. 
 
 I KNOW, Justine, you speak me fair 
 
 As often as we meet ; 
 And t is a luxury, I swear, 
 
 To hear a voice so sweet ; 
 And yet it does not please me quite, 
 
 The civil way you ve got ; 
 For me you re something too polite, 
 
 Justine, you love me not ! 
 
 I know, Justine, you never scold 
 
 At aught that I may do : 
 If I am passionate or cold, 
 
 T is all the same to you. 
 
"JUSTINE, YOU LOVE ME NOT!" 51 
 
 " A charming temper," say the men, 
 
 " To smooth a husband s lot " : 
 I wish t were ruffled now and then, 
 
 Justine, you love me not ! 
 
 I know, Justine, you wear a smile 
 
 As beaming as the sun ; 
 But who supposes all the while 
 
 It shines for only one 1 
 Though azure skies are fair to see, 
 
 A transient cloudy spot 
 In yours would promise more to me, 
 
 Justine, you love me not ! 
 
 I know, Justine, you make my name 
 
 Your eulogistic theme, 
 And say if any chance to blame 
 
 You hold me in esteem. 
 Such words, for all their kindly scope, 
 
 Delight me not a jot ; 
 Just so you would have praised the Pope, 
 
 Justine, you love me not ! 
 
 I know, Justine, for I have heard 
 What friendly voices tell, 
 
52 " JUSTINE, YOU LOVE ME NOT ! " 
 
 You do not blush to say the word, 
 " You like me passing well " j 
 
 And thus the fatal sound I hear 
 That seals my lonely lot : 
 
 There s nothing now to hope or fear, 
 Justine, you love me not ! 
 
"BE GOOD TO YOURSELF." 
 
 " GOOD BY ! good by ! " the driver said, 
 
 As the coach went off in a whirl ; 
 (And the coachman bowed his handsome head ;) 
 
 " Be good to yourself, my girl! " 
 
 Ah ! many a fond good-by I ve heard, 
 
 From many an aching heart ; 
 And many a friendly farewell word, 
 
 When strangers came to part \ 
 
 And I ve heard a thousand merry quips, 
 
 And many a senseless joke, 
 And many a fervent prayer from lips 
 
 That all a-tremble spoke ; 
 
 And many a bit of good advice 
 In smooth proverbial phrase ; 
 
54 "BE GOOD TO YOURSELF." 
 
 And many a wish of little price 
 For health and happy days : 
 
 But musing how the human soul 
 (Whate er the Fates may will) 
 
 Still measures by its self-control 
 Its greatest good or ill, 
 
 Of benedictions, I protest, 
 Mid many a shining pearl, 
 
 I like the merry coachman s best, 
 " Be good to yourself, my girl ! " 
 
TO A BACHELOR FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 COME and see us, any day ; 
 
 With his choicest mercies 
 Heaven has showered my rugged way, 
 
 Plenty as my verses. 
 Share my home, lonely elf, 
 
 Cosiest of houses 
 Wisely ordered, like myself ! 
 
 By the best of spouses. 
 
 Though t is small upon the ground, 
 
 I may fairly mention 
 Toward the sky it will be found 
 
 Of sublime extension. 
 Narrow is a city-lot, 
 
 When you ve truly said it ; 
 
56 TO A BACHELOR FEIEND IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 But the " stories " we have got 
 You would scarcely credit ! 
 
 Though the stairs are something tall, 
 
 You have but to clamber 
 Up the fourth ; " upon the wall 
 
 Is the Prophet s chamber." 
 Thence my garden you may view, 
 
 Kept with costly labor, 
 Specially for me and you, 
 
 By my wealthy neighbor. 
 
 Books you hardly need be told 
 
 Wait your welcome coming ; 
 Some I warrant mainly old 
 
 Worthy of your thumbing. 
 For the rest, I only swear. 
 
 Though they re rather recent, 
 You will find the printing fair, 
 
 And the binding decent. 
 
 Breakfast 1 Mutton-chops at eight 
 (Cook will do them nicely). 
 
TO A BACHELOR FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY. 57 
 
 Dinner 1 What you choose to state, 
 
 Served at two precisely. 
 Bed] Delicious (not a few 
 
 Were the swans who lined it) 
 As a bachelor, like you, 
 
 Could expect to find it ! 
 
LOVE AND MONEY. 
 
 A HOMILY. 
 
 OF course, my dear Charley, I hold, 
 
 As a poet and moralist should, 
 That love is far better than gold 
 
 (Though gold is undoubtedly good) j 
 And yet, as the proverb declares, 
 
 I fear me the doctrine is true, 
 That in managing human affairs, 
 
 " U amour fait beaucoup ; Vargentfait tout /" 
 
 You wish for example to win 
 
 A proper companion for life, 
 (At forty t is time to begin . ) 
 
 And so you go courting a wife ; 
 You offer your heart and your purse, 
 
 But much as affection may do, 
 
LOVE AXD MONEY. 59 
 
 There s meaning, no doubt, in the verse, 
 
 " L amour fait beaucoup ; I argent fait tout ! " 
 
 You purchase an elegant house, 
 
 As an opulent gentleman ought ; 
 And you and your beautiful spouse 
 
 By people of Fashion are sought : 
 But when YOU remember the way 
 
 " Society " chooses her few, 
 Perhaps you may sigh as you say, 
 
 " L amour fait beaucoup ; argent fait tout /" 
 
 In conjugal matters as well 
 
 As those of a worldlier sort, 
 What virtue in money may dwell 
 
 Were worthy a sage s report ; 
 You re honored 0, not for your pelf ; 
 
 But, taking the rosiest view, 
 Do you think it is all for yourself? 
 
 11 L amour fait beaucoup ; V argent fait tout /" 
 
 0, love is a beautiful thing, 
 A passion of heavenly birth ; 
 
GO LOVE AND MONEY. 
 
 But money s a tyrannous king, 
 The mightiest monarch on earth ; 
 
 And, in managing human affairs, 
 I fear me the doctrine is true, 
 
 As the old Gallic proverb declares, 
 
 " L amour fait beaucoup ; P argent fait tout f" 
 
ODE. 
 
 ON OCCASION OF THE UNVEILING OF THE BUST OF JOHN HOWARD PAYNE, 
 IN PROSPECT PARK, BROOKLYN, N. Y., SEPTEMBER 27, 1873. 
 
 To him who sang of "Home, sweet Home," 
 
 In strains so sweet the simple lay 
 Has thrilled a million hearts, we come 
 
 A nation s grateful debt to pay. 
 Yet not for him the bust we raise; 
 
 Ah no ! can lifeless lips prolong 
 Fame s trumpet voice ] The poet s praise 
 
 Lives in the music of his song ! 
 
 The noble dead we fondly seek 
 
 To honor with applauding breath : 
 
 Unheeded fall the words we speak 
 Upon " the dull, cold ear of death." 
 
62 ODE. 
 
 Yet not in vain the spoken word, 
 Nor vain the monument we raise ; 
 
 With quicker throbs our hearts are stirred 
 To catch the nobleness we praise ! 
 
 Columbia s sons, we share his fame ; 
 
 T is for ourselves the bust we rear, 
 That they who mark the graven name 
 
 May know that name to us is dear ; 
 Dear as the home the exile sees, 
 
 The fairest spot beneath the sky, 
 Where first upon a mothers knees 
 
 He slept, and where he yearns to die. 
 
 But not alone the lyric fire 
 
 Was his ; the Drama s muse can tell 
 His genius could a Kean inspire ; 
 
 A Kemble owned his magic spell 
 A Kean, to " Brutus " self so true, 
 
 (As true to Art and Nature s laws,) 
 He seemed the man the poet drew, 
 
 And shared with him the town s applause. 
 
 Kind hearts and brave, with truth severe, 
 He drew, unconscious, from his own ; 
 
ODE. 63 
 
 nature rare ! But pilgrims here 
 
 Will oft nest say, in pensive tone, 
 With reverent face and lifted hand, 
 
 " T was he by Fortune forced to roam 
 Who, homeless in a foreign land, 
 
 So sweetly sang the joys of home ! " 
 
PART OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH. 
 
 SPOKEN AT THE FESTIVAL OF THE 41sT ANNUAL CONVENTION OF *I 
 Y*IAON AT DELMONICO S, NEW YORK, APRIL 8, 1874. 
 
 DEAR BROTHERS : I m something unhappy. I heard 
 
 Such abuse, t other day, of an innocent word 
 
 It roused all the wrath of the mildest of men 
 
 To a height as colossal, I fancy, as when 
 
 A former occasion provoked the inquiry 
 
 In the mind of the Mantuan, " Tantcene irce ? " 
 
 You 11 say there was reason, I 11 state you the case 
 
 There s a boy in my house in whose handsomish face 
 
 Are features from which one may easily gather 
 
 He is fairly entitled to call me his father : 
 
 A youngster of thirty ; as yet rather slim, 
 
 But of excellent promise in stature and limb. 
 
 Well, to tell you the story, a saucy young boor 
 
 Of Johnnys acquaintance came up to the door, 
 
PART OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH. 65 
 
 And, ringing the bell in a violent way, 
 
 Sent up the Hibernian maiden to say 
 
 That a gentleman wanted, a moment, to see 
 
 " Mister " (adding the surname belonging to me). 
 
 " Bid him come to my study ! " I civilly said. 
 
 In a minute or so Maggie popped in her head ; 
 
 " It was not for yourself, sure, the fellow did ax ; 
 
 He said it was young and not old Mister S e 
 
 He wanted to see ! " 
 
 And am I to be told 
 
 By a blundering booby that I /am old ? 
 The word, I m aware, is by no means a new one, 
 And for people of eighty, no doubt, is the true one ; 
 What incensed my soul to such fierce indignation 
 Was its very improper, absurd application! 
 Is he old who can climb to the highest of attics, 
 And never complain of fatigue or " rheumatics " ] 
 Is he old who, in spite of his fast-thinning curls, 
 Has a joke for the boys and a smile for the girls 1 
 Is he old whom fair women (No ! not the duress 
 Of prison or torture shall make me confess !) 
 Is he old who owes nothing to fraudulent art 1 
 Above all, is he old who is young at the heart ? 
 
66 PAET OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH. 
 
 I rather think not ! But, quien sale ? Who knows 1 
 
 The bud of last evening to-day is a rose ; 
 
 And roses will fade ; and, in like manner, when 
 
 We jolly young fellows grow middle-aged men, 
 
 Perhaps the Good Father (it surely were kind) 
 
 Makes us to our failings conveniently blind. 
 
 " Know yourself! " said the Grecian. A difficult task, 
 
 And rather too much of a mortal to ask ; 
 
 We all know the name of the fellow who penned it, 
 
 And how he asserted " e coelo descendit ! " 
 
 " Know yourself ! " It is well ; but for my part, my 
 
 brothers, 
 
 I would rather extend my acquaintance with others, 
 As promising, surely, a better return 
 Than aught of myself I could possibly learn ! 
 To learn Human Nature is truly an art, 
 And many imagine they ve got it by heart, 
 Because they are keen at detecting offences, 
 Base motives, sly vices, and shallow pretences ; 
 Let us study, the rather, to find out the merit 
 The faultiest neighbor may chance to inherit , 
 To publish the virtue that s misunderstood, 
 And always and everywhere seek for the good. 
 There was one " Paddy Goldsmith," an author of note, 
 
PART OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH. 67 
 
 (And who has not read what "poor Oliver" wrote ?) 
 A scholar, philosopher, writer of plays, 
 And a poet who still wears the freshest of bays, 
 Every dandy in town, every chambermaid Moll, 
 Could tell of his blunders and laugh at poor " Noll " ; 
 Every coxcomb could see he was homely and rough, 
 And of follies and foibles had more than enough : 
 But it took the profoundest of sages to scan 
 The learning and genius that lay in the man ! 
 Sam Johnson could see, and was bold to declare, 
 There was spirit and humor and poetry there ; 
 And to fools who might sneer, he had ever this answer : 
 " You may laugh as you will, sir ! and say what you 
 
 can, sir ! 
 He s a genuine wit and a wonderful man, sir ! " 
 
ODE TO THE LEGISLATURE. 
 
 ON THE EXPIRATION OF THE "HUNDRED DAYS." 
 
 WISE Assembly ! and wiser Senate ! 
 
 I much rejoice to pen it, 
 The Hundred Days in which you lived in clover 
 
 Are gone and over ! 
 
 Gone are the Legislators, great and small ; 
 Clerks, Ushers, Porters, Messengers, and all 
 The crowd of country cousins in the hall ! 
 Gone are the vultures, large and little ; 
 Gone are the venders of cold victual ; 
 Gone are the ladies, short and tall, 
 
 The virtuous and the vicious, 
 The meritorious and the meretricious, 
 Who follow their vocations 
 Where you resort ; 
 In short, 
 
ODE" TO THE LEGISLATURE. 69 
 
 The Apple-women, and the sort 
 
 With other appellations ! 
 Gone is the patient, patriotic " Lobby " ; 
 Some, who have bagged their game 
 Laden with wealth and shame ; 
 And others, leading home their lame 
 
 And ill-conditioned hobby, 
 A little leaner than it came ! 
 
 Gone, too, the Sharps and Flats who swarm 
 In secret sessions and perform 
 
 " Feats of the Ring " 
 
 Unequalled elsewhere, not the sort of thing 
 Where human features catch defacing blows, 
 
 But meaner feats than those, 
 Degrading legislative Ayes and Noes ! 
 
 famous Hundred ! 
 In which (while "rural districts" wondered) 
 
 Your little Tullys thundered, 
 
 Your Hectors blustered, and your Solons blun 
 dered, 
 
 And Buncombe honest ass ! was praised an d plun 
 dered ! 
 
70 ODE TO THE LEGISLATURE. 
 
 To think ! what wind and muscle were expended 
 
 (Mere money not to mention) 
 
 In quieting dissension ! 
 
 What righteous bills opposed, and bad defended ; 
 What Acts (and facts) were made and marred and 
 mended 
 
 Before the Session ended ! 
 
 They say, Legislature ! in despite 
 Of all adverse appearances, you might 
 
 Have been much weaker. 
 (How ? I have asked, but all in vain ; 
 None could, or would explain !) 
 But this I freely own, you had a "Speaker" 
 That justified the title, and could speak, 
 In speeches neither few nor weak ; 
 
 And though he often pained us, 
 When at his highest pitch of declamation, 
 The man s oration, and vocif-oration, 
 Were really Tremain-dous ! 
 
 Perhaps, Legislature ! since your pay 
 
 Is rather small, 
 (I mean, of course, the regular per diem 
 
ODE TO THE LEGISLATURE. 71 
 
 And not the price of votes when brokers buy em,) 
 You saw the Hundredth day 
 With pleasure, after all. 
 
 If so, I will not hint, there s little need, 
 You and the people were, for once, agreed ! 
 
 Farewell, Senate ! and Assembly, too ! 
 Good by ! adios ! a-Dio ! adieu ! 
 
 (I don t say au revoir /) 
 With common-sense I would n t be at war. 
 That Legislatures come, it needs must be, 
 (And go, thank Heaven !) but when I see 
 
 Your Ways and Means, I think 
 Of what, upon a time, a person said 
 
 Touching an article we eat and drink : 
 If you d enjoy (quoth he) your gingerbread, 
 
 Or sip your sweetened coffee with delight, 
 
 Of sugar-making pray avoid the sight ! 
 
 And thus, with greater cause, 
 Would we respect the Laws 
 (Which should be reverenced to be obeyed), 
 
 IT IS N T REST TO SEE THEM MADE ! 
 
WHY : A SONNET. 
 
 " WHY do I love thee 1 " Thus, in earnest wise, 
 I answer : Sweet ! I love thee for thy face 
 Of rarest beauty ; and for every grace 
 
 That in thy voice and air and motion lies ; 
 
 I love thee for the love-look in thine eyes, 
 The melting glance which only one may see 
 Of all who mark how beautiful they be ; 
 
 I love thee for thy mind (which yet denies, 
 
 For modesty, how wonderful it is) ! 
 
 I love thee for thy heart so true and warm, 
 I love thee for thy bosom s hidden charm ; 
 
 I love thee for thy mouth so sweet to kiss ; 
 Because of these I love thee ; yet above 
 All else, because I cannot choose but love ! 
 
LAURA. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 " HATEFUL Death ! " my angry spirit cries, 
 
 " Who thus couldst take my darling from my sight, 
 Shrouding her beauty in sepulchral night ; 
 cruel ! unto prayers and tears and sighs 
 Inexorable ! " " Hush ! " my soul replies ; 
 " Be just, stricken heart ! the mortal strife 
 Which we call death is birth to higher life. 
 Safe in the Father s Mansion in the skies, 
 She bides thy coming ; only gone before, 
 A little while, that at thy parting breath, 
 Thou mayst endure a lighter pain of death, 
 And gladlier pass beyond this earthly shore ; 
 For, with thy Laura calling from on high, 
 It cannot, sure, be very hard to die." 
 
FABLES AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
THE TWO ANGELS. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 Two wandering angels, Sleep and Death, 
 
 Once met in sunny weather : 
 And while the twain were taking breath, 
 
 They held discourse together. 
 
 Quoth Sleep (whose face, though twice as fair, 
 Was strangely like the other s, 
 
 So like, in sooth, that anywhere 
 
 They might have passed for brothers) : 
 
 " A busy life is mine, I trow ; 
 
 Would I were omnipresent ! 
 So fast and far have I to go \ 
 
 And yet my work is pleasant. 
 
78 THE TWO ANGELS. 
 
 " I cast my potent poppies forth, 
 And lo ! the cares that cumber 
 
 The toiling, suffering sons of Earth 
 Are drowned in sweetest slumber. 
 
 " The student rests his weary brain, 
 And waits the fresher morrow ; 
 
 I ease the patient of his pain, 
 The mourner of his sorrow. 
 
 " I bar the gates where cares abide, 
 And open Pleasure s portals 
 
 To visioned joys ; thus, far and wide, 
 I earn the praise of mortals." 
 
 " Alas ! " replied the other, " mine 
 Is not a task so grateful ; 
 
 Howe er to mercy I incline, 
 To mortals I am hateful. 
 
 " They call me Kill-joy, every one, 
 And speak in sharp detraction 
 
 Of all I do ; yet have I done 
 Full many a kindly action." 
 
THE TWO ANGELS. 79 
 
 " True ! " answered Sleep, " but aU the while 
 
 Thine office is berated, 
 T is only by the weak and vile 
 
 That thou art feared and hated. 
 
 "And though thy work on earth has given 
 
 To all a shade of sadness ; 
 Consider every saint in heaven 
 
 Remembers thee with gladness ! " 
 
THE GOLD-FINGERED BRAHMIN. 
 
 A HINDOO TALE. 
 
 A FAMOUS merchant, who had made 
 A fine estate by honest trade 
 With foreign countries, by mischance 
 (The failure of a firm in France 
 And several cargoes lost at sea), 
 Became as poor as poor could be ; 
 Of all his riches saving naught, 
 Except, indeed, the pleasing thought 
 Of generous deeds in better days, 
 Which some remembered to his praise. 
 Of these, a Brahmin, who had known 
 The merchant ere his wealth had flown, 
 And how he helped the sick and poor, 
 
THE GOLD-FINGERED BRAHMIN. 81 
 
 Entered, one day, his open door, 
 
 And said, " My friend ! I know you well ; 
 
 Your former state ; and what befell 
 
 That all was lost ; and well I know 
 
 Your noble life, and fain would show 
 
 (Since I have power Heaven be adored !) 
 
 How all your wealth may be restored. 
 
 Now please attend : whene er you see 
 
 A Brahmin who resembles me 
 
 In looks and dress (and such an one 
 
 Will enter here at set of sun), 
 
 Just strike him on the forehead thrice ; 
 
 And lo ! his fingers, in a trice, 
 
 Will turn to solid gold ! Of these 
 
 Cut off as many as you please 
 
 (The ten will make a goodly sum), 
 
 And thus the Brahmin-form will come 
 
 Whenever you have need of gold. 
 
 Consider well what I have told ! " 
 
 With this the Brahmin went away, 
 And, sure enough, at close of day, 
 A stranger, like the other, came, 
 So like, indeed, he seemed the same, 
 
82 THE GOLD-FINGERED BKAHMIN. 
 
 And sat him down ; and, quick as thought, 
 The blows are struck, the charm is wrought, 
 And all his fingers turn to gold ! 
 
 wondrous sight ! And now behold 
 The happy merchant rich once more 
 As in his thrifty days of yore ! 
 
 A barber, curious to know 
 Whence all this sudden wealth might flow, 
 By watching morning, noon, and night, 
 The "magic Brahmin brought to light ; 
 At least, he thought beyond a doubt 
 He d found the golden secret out ; 
 And straight he called three Brahmins in, 
 And bade them sit : " For so I 11 win," 
 The fellow reasoned, " thrice as much 
 As if a single man I toucli : 
 The more the men, the more the gold ! 
 
 1 11 have as much as I can hold 
 In all my pockets, at a blow ! " 
 
 . But when he struck the Brahmins, lo ! 
 They turned not into golden ores, 
 But turned the barber out of doors ! 
 And, angry at his scurvy trick, 
 Each beat him soundly with a stick ! 
 
THE GOLD-FINGERED BRAHMIN. 83 
 
 MORAL. 
 To all who read this pleasant tale, 
 
 The barber s fate may serve to teach, 
 How sadly imitators fail 
 
 Who aim at things beyond their reach ! 
 
THE FARMER AND THE MAGIC RING. 
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 IN grateful reward of some generous thing 
 That an honest young farmer had done 
 
 To a wandering Fairy, she gave him a ring 
 That was set with a magical stone. 
 
 " Pray take it, and wear it as long as you live," 
 Said the Fay, as the present she gave ; 
 
 " T is a wonderful ring, and is potent to give 
 Whatever its wearer may crave. 
 
 " One wish, and no more, it is certain to bring ; 
 
 Whatever you have in your thought, 
 You have only to wish, with a turn of the ring, 
 
 And presto ! the marvel is wrought ! " 
 
THE FARMER AND THE MAGIC RING. 85 
 
 Now, what should he wish 1 It was not very clear ; 
 
 And so he consulted his spouse ; 
 Who quickly replied, " Good gracious ! my dear ! 
 
 Just wish for a couple of cows ! " 
 
 Nay ? na y j that were foolish ! " the farmer replies ; 
 
 " The cows I can earn in a year, 
 By the work of my hands ; pray, let us be wise, 
 
 And wish to some purpose, my dear ! " 
 
 " Well, wish for more land ! " said the voluble dame ; 
 
 " There s a meadow adjoining our farm 
 You long have been wanting ; that surely were game 
 
 Well worthy your magical charm ! " 
 
 " Nay, nay ! " said the farmer ; "that, too, I can buy 
 
 In a couple of years, at the most j 
 Something better than that we must find ere we try 
 
 What virtue this bauble may boast. 
 
 " One wish, recollect, is allowed, and no more ; 
 
 In waiting there s surely no harm ; 
 And then, how the fault we should ever deplore 
 
 If we foolishly squander the charm ! " 
 
86 THE FARMER AND THE MAGIC RING. 
 
 And so it is told to the day when he died 
 
 By talent and labor alone 
 The farmer grew wealthy, nor ever had tried 
 
 A wish with the magical stone ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 " fool of a farmer ! " how many will say, 
 
 " Who, having so potent a ring, 
 Just stupidly threw the advantage away ! 
 
 Was ever so silly a thing ? " 
 But, from wishing amiss, what mortal can tell 
 
 What evil might chance to befall 1 
 Or know that in wishing his choice were as well 
 
 As not to have chosen at all 1 
 
THE GRUMBLING PEASANTS. 
 
 A EOMAN TALE. 
 
 ONE summer s day the tale is told 
 An honest Peasant, poor and old, 
 Worked in the meadow with his wife, 
 When thus she spoke : " "Well, on my life ! 
 T is precious hard that you and I 
 Must sweat beneath the burning sky, 
 Like galley slaves, for paltry pay, 
 And all because alas the day ! 
 Of Adam s fall ! But for his sin 
 And Eve s, how happy we had been ! " 
 " True ! " said the Peasant ; " I believe, 
 Had I been Adam, you been Eve, 
 No foolish fancies would have come 
 To drive us from our Eden-home ; 
 
THE GRUMBLING PEASANTS. 
 
 But all the race, this very day, 
 Had in the Garden been at play ! " 
 The Count, their master, standing near 
 (Though quite unnoticed), chanced to hear 
 Their wise discourse ; and, laughing, said : 
 " Well, my good friends, suppose instead 
 Of Paradise, my mansion there 
 Were yours to-day ; with princely fare 
 For food to eat and wine to drink, 
 Would that content ye, do ye think 1 " 
 
 " Ah ! that were Paradise indeed ! 
 What more," they cried, " could mortals need 1" 
 " Well, we shall see," the Count replied j 
 " But that your virtue may be tried, 
 Remember, on the table, served 
 With many a dish, there s one reserved ; 
 Partake of every one you see 
 Save that, which (like the Fatal Tree) 
 Just in the centre I will place. 
 Beware of that ! lest Adam s case 
 Should be your own, and straight you go 
 Back to your sickle, rake, and hoe ! " 
 Soon to the castle they were led, 
 And by a table richly spread, 
 
THE GRUMBLING PEASANTS. 89 
 
 As for a bacchanal carouse, 
 Behold the Peasant and his spouse ! 
 " See ! " said the woman, " what a treat ! 
 Far more, I m sure, than we can eat ; 
 With such excess we well may spare 
 The dish that s in the centre there ! " 
 " Who cares for that ] " the Peasant said ; 
 (While eagerly the couple fed 
 From all the plates that round them lay.) 
 " My dear ! I would n t look that way ! " 
 " No harm in looking ! " said the wife \ 
 11 1 would n t touch it for my life." 
 But in their minds, at length, there grew 
 A strong desire for something new ; 
 Whereat the woman said, " I wish 
 I knew what s hidden in that dish 1 " 
 " And, to be sure," the man replied, 
 " Merely to look was not denied ! " 
 "And even touching it," said she, 
 " Were no great harm, it seems to me ; 
 Of course, I will not lift the lid ; 
 And who would know it if I did ? " 
 She suits the action to the word, 
 When from the dish a little bird 
 
90 THE GRUMBLING PEASANTS. 
 
 (The Count had slily hidden there) 
 Came rushing forth into the air, 
 And through the open window flew; 
 And so it was the master knew 
 What they had done. " Away ! " he said 
 " Back to the field and earn your bread 
 As you were wont, and ne er complain 
 Of Adam and of Eve again ! " 
 
THE LITTLE GLASS SHOE. 
 
 A NORTHLAND FAIRY TALE. 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! what is it I view 1 " 
 
 John Wilde, the ploughman, cried, 
 As* he hit his foot on a little glass shoe 
 
 That lay on the mountain-side ; 
 "Some fay has lost it, there s never a doubt, 
 
 And ah ! how lucky for me ! 
 The owner will soon be roaming about 
 
 To find where his shoe may be. 
 And so," said John, " I 11 carry it home, 
 
 That s just what I will do, 
 And he will pay me a pretty sum 
 
 Who buys this little glass shoe ! " 
 And he spread the story far and near, 
 
 For many a mile around, 
 
92 THE LITTLE GLASS SHOE. 
 
 That the fairy folk might surely hear 
 
 Who the little glass shoe had found. 
 And soon to John a merchant came, 
 
 Who said he had heard the news ; 
 And would the ploughman sell the same 
 
 To a dealer in little glass shoes ] 
 And he offered John a pretty price 
 
 For the shoe that he had found ; 
 But John replied it was much too nice 
 
 To go for a hundred pound ; 
 Then the merchant offered a hundred more, 
 
 But the ploughman still said, " Nay ; 
 The man who buys my shoe," he swore, 
 
 " Will dearly have to pay. 
 There s not so pretty a shoe on earth 
 
 To cover a lady s toes ; 
 And then I happen to know its worth 
 
 Far better than you suppose. 
 The shoe is one of wondrous price 
 
 (That nobody can deny), 
 And yet, perchance, there s some device 
 
 May serve the shoe to buy. 
 If you are able to show me, now, 
 
 WTien I am ploughing my field, 
 
THE LITTLE GLASS SHOE. 93 
 
 That every furrow behind my plough 
 
 A shining ducat may yield, 
 Why, then to you the shoe 1 11 give, 
 
 Else I will keep it myself, 
 For an ornament, as long as I live, 
 
 To grace my mantel-shelf! " 
 And so it was the fairy bought 
 
 (T was he in a merchant s guise !) 
 His own glass shoe, and, quick as thought, 
 
 Away to his home he hies. 
 And off went John, with much delight, 
 
 As fast as he could go, 
 By trial to prove that very night 
 
 If the charm would work or no. 
 And he found the fairy s word was true, 
 
 As he promised in the trade ; 
 For a shining ducat came to view 
 
 In every furrow he made ! 
 And again next morning off he went 
 
 Nor scarce to eat could stop 
 To plough again, he was so intent 
 
 To gather his golden crop. 
 
 And so he ploughed, and ploughed, and ploughed, 
 And scarce for slumber ceased ; 
 
94 THE LITTLE GLASS SHOE. 
 
 No wonder John was growing proud, 
 
 So fast his wealth increased ! 
 And still he ploughed by day and night, 
 
 When none were looking on, 
 Till he seemed, indeed, a sorry wight, 
 
 He grew so lean and wan ! 
 And still, when none his work might view, 
 
 He ploughed by night and day ; 
 And still the more his riches grew, 
 
 The more he pined away. 
 Until, at last, his work was stopped, 
 
 And the ploughman, where was he 1 
 Down in the furrow, alas ! he dropped, 
 
 As dead as dead could be ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 Though good is gold, to have and hold, 
 
 My story makes it clear 
 Who sells himself for sordid pelf 
 
 Has bought it much too dear ! 
 
THE ROSE AND THE FAIRY. 
 
 AN ORIENTAL TALE. 
 
 A TINY Fairy, of the sort 
 
 Who love in flowery fields to sport, 
 
 One dewy eve espied a Rose 
 
 So fair and fragrant, straight he goes 
 
 And nestles in her bosom ; dips 
 
 Deep in her leaves his elfin lips, 
 
 And sucks the virgin honey thence ; 
 
 Regaling thus his dainty sense 
 
 Of taste and odor rare, until 
 
 The Sybarite has drunk his fill ! 
 
 " Sweet blossom ! " sighed the grateful Fay, 
 
 " Thy bounty I would fain repay. 
 
 The fairest flowers that deck the field 
 
 Or garden, all to thee must yield 
 
96 THE KOSE AND THE FAIRY. 
 
 In loveliness ; but that the Queen 
 
 Among her subjects may be seen 
 
 E en in the dark and envious night 
 
 (That hides thy beauty from the sight), 
 
 This little Lantern shall be thine 
 
 To show, at night, thy form divine ! " 
 
 With modest thanks the Rose receives 
 
 The Glow-worm s light upon her leaves, 
 
 Then turns to list a thrilling lay 
 
 That witched her maiden heart away ! 
 
 For Philomela filled the grove, 
 
 Just then, with such a song of love 
 
 For " Rosa, fairest of the fair," 
 
 The maid was won, ere half aware 
 
 The singer, while he bent to bless 
 
 The trembler with a soft caress, 
 
 Had snatched her lamp, the rogue ! and gone 
 
 And left her in the dark alone ! 
 
 L ENVOI. 
 
 The Glow-worm lantern (we are told 
 By wise expositors) is gold ; 
 Which serves to set in fairest light 
 The charms that else were lost to sight. 
 
THE ROSE AND THE FAIRY. 97 
 
 Moreover, it is plain to see 
 
 The cunning Nightingale is he, 
 
 The smooth-tongued knave, whose wicked art 
 
 For lucre cheats the loving heart, 
 
 That, like poor Rose, is doomed to prove 
 
 How Craft may feign the voice of Love ! 
 
THE TWO SPARROWS. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 Two sparrows, votaries of Love, 
 
 The Mars and Venus of the grove, 
 
 Had been, for years, such constant mates, 
 
 You would have sworn the very Fates 
 
 Were impotent to break the bond 
 
 That joined a pair so true and fond. 
 
 Together still they sought their food ; 
 
 Together played in field or wood ; 
 
 Together built the cosey nest 
 
 That served for shelter and for rest ; 
 
 Together fought the feathered foes 
 
 With whom they came to words or blows ; 
 
 In fine, they lived, as lovers ought, 
 
 Without a single selfish thought, 
 
THE TWO SPARROWS. 99 
 
 Save such as might concern the twain, 
 Their mutual joy or mutual pain. 
 
 At last, one day, they chanced to get 
 Their feet entangled in a net, 
 (A vagrant boy had spread the snare 
 To catch and keep the pretty pair !) 
 And soon, despite their noisy rage, 
 They both were prisoned in a cage ; 
 Where much I grieve the tale to tell 
 A sorry scandal now befell : 
 They scold, recriminate, and fight, 
 Like arrant foes, from morn till night ; 
 Until, at length, the wretched birds 
 In cruel acts and bitter words 
 The very furies emulate, 
 And all their love is turned to hate ! 
 
 L ENVOI. 
 
 Full many a couple come to strife 
 And hatred in connubial life, 
 Whose days of courtship promised fair 
 As those of. this unhappy pair ; 
 But, like the sparrows in my tale, 
 When trouble comes, their tempers fail ; 
 
100 THE TWO SPARROWS. 
 
 They blame each other for the fate 
 Which both should strive to mitigate ; 
 With patience helping to endure 
 The ills that kindness fails to cure ! 
 
LOVE AND CARE. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 A YOUTH was travelling on a summer s day, 
 
 When suddenly a stranger 
 Appeared before him, saying, " Sir, your way 
 
 Is rough and full of danger ; 
 
 "And I you Ve heard of me ; my name is Care 
 
 Intend, for your protection, 
 To dog your steps, and watch you, everywhere, 
 
 With keen but kind inspection ! " 
 
 A surly wight he seemed ; and so the lad, 
 
 Who wished not his assistance, 
 
 
 
 Stept off with quickened pace; while, slow and sad, 
 Care followed at a distance, 
 
102 LOVE AND CARE. 
 
 And soon the youth espies along the way, 
 Tripping in wanton measure, 
 
 A dashing damsel, very fine and gay ; 
 
 Her name (she said was Pleasure. 
 
 " Come ! follow me ! " the merry maiden cried, 
 With peals of silver laughter ; 
 
 " I will, I will ! " the joyful youth replied, 
 And gayly followed after. 
 
 Alas ! she led him such a crazy dance, 
 
 He presently grew tired, 
 And stopt, at length, unwilling to advance 
 Through paths so much bemired. 
 
 To Pleasure s ways no longer now inclined, 
 
 He offered small resistance 
 When Care came up (for he was close behind) 
 
 And tendered his assistance. 
 
 But soon escaping from his hated guide, 
 He spied a pensive maiden 
 
 Of wondrous beauty, by a fountain s side, 
 With sprigs of myrtle laden. 
 
LOVE AND CARE. 103 
 
 " Love ! " he cried, (for truly it was she !) 
 
 " I beg your kind endeavor 
 From this detested Care to set me free, 
 
 And keep me so forever ! " 
 
 " Nay ! " said the maid ; " and yet my votaries swear, 
 
 My charms are so beguiling, 
 That in my cheering presence even Care 
 
 Has got a trick of smiling ! " 
 
DEATH INSURANCE. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 A MOUNTEBANK whose life displayed 
 
 Uncommon genius in the trade 
 
 Of getting much while giving naught 
 
 (Except a deal of knavish thought), 
 
 Gave out through all the country round 
 
 That he the magic art had found 
 
 Of teaching Eloquence to all 
 
 Who chose to pay, (the fee was small !) 
 
 Indeed, the rogue declared, his plan 
 
 Would educate the dullest man, 
 
 Nay, e en a horse or ox or ass, 
 
 Till he in speaking would surpass 
 
 Immortal Tully ! and would show 
 
 All modern arts that lawyers know, 
 
DEATH INSURANCE. 105 
 
 Besides, to grace a brilliant speech. 
 " All this I undertake to teach 
 The merest dunce, or else," he said, 
 " The forfeiture shall be my head ! " 
 
 Of course so marvellous a thing 
 Soon, through the courtiers, reached the king ; 
 Who, having called the charlatan 
 Into his presence, thus began : 
 " Well, Sir Professor, I have heard 
 Your boasts, and take you at your word. 
 Between us be it now agreed 
 That to my stable you proceed 
 At once, and thence a donkey take, 
 Of whom t is bargained you shall make 
 An orator of fluent speech ; 
 Or, failing thus the brute to teach, 
 You shall be hanged till you are dead ! " 
 " A bargain, Sire ! " the fellow said ; 
 " And ten years time shall be allowed ; 
 It is but fair." The monarch bowed. 
 " And now my fee be pleased to pay ! " 
 Then takes the gold and goes away. 
 
 A courtier whom he chanced to meet, 
 A fortnight later, in the street, 
 
106 DEATH INSURANCE. 
 
 Began the fellow to deride 
 About his bargain, " Faith ! " he cried, 
 " A fine agreement you have made ! 
 I mean to see the forfeit paid ; 
 The art of rhetoric to teach, 
 Of course you 11 make a gallows-speech ! " 
 " Laugh as you may, my merry man ! " 
 Replied the cunning charlatan ; 
 " Although my wisdom you may flout, 
 I know quite well what I m about. 
 If in the years allotted I, 
 The king, or ass, should chance to die, 
 Pray, don t you see, my giddy friend, 
 The bargain finds a speedy end 1 
 My fee was but a premium paid 
 To one in the insurance trade. 
 Of one or other of the three 
 Ten years are pretty sure to see 
 The epitaph, as chances fall ; 
 I take the hazard, that is all ! " 
 
THE CADI S STRATAGEM. 
 
 A TURKISH TALE. 
 
 A PIOUS widow s cottage chanced to stand 
 Hard by the Califs palace ; and he sought, 
 
 For his own use, to buy her bit of land : 
 
 But all in vain, the land could not be bought. 
 
 " It was my husband s home," the woman said, 
 " Who, dying, left it to his loving wife ; 
 
 Here will I dwell, in honor of the dead, 
 Nor with it part until I part with life ! " 
 
 The haughty Califs anger knew no bound, 
 
 That thus the dame withstood him to his face ; 
 
 By force he razed her cottage to the ground, 
 And built a grand pavilion in its place. 
 
108 THE CADI S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Straight to the Cadi, then, the widow goes, 
 And asks for justice at his Honor s hand : 
 
 " Leave me awhile," the Cadi said, and rose ; 
 " Allah is great, and hears your just demand." 
 
 Then with an empty sack, he took his way 
 To the pavilion, where he chanced to meet 
 
 The Calif at the door. " Great Sire ! I pray 
 A little of the earth beneath your feet ; 
 
 " Enough to fill," the Cadi said, " this sack." 
 " T is granted ! " said the Calif, laughing loud. 
 
 " Now, please to put the load upon my back, 
 Most potent Prince ! " and reverently bowed. 
 
 " Nay," said the Calif, " I should surely fail 
 Should I essay to lift a load so great ; 
 
 For such a task my strength would not avail ; 
 A porter would be crushed beneath the weight ! " 
 
 " Prince of Believers ! " said the Cadi, then ; 
 
 " If this be even so, how wilt thou fare 
 In the great day of final judgment, when 
 
 The weight of all this land thou hast to bear 1 " 
 
THE CADI S STRATAGEM. 109 
 
 The Calif, stricken with remorse, exclaimed, 
 " Allah is Allah ! be his name adored ! 
 
 For wit and wisdom thou art justly famed ; 
 This day shall see the widow s land restored. 
 
 " And for the wrong I did the woman s land, 
 In tearing down her house, I thus atone : 
 
 This fine pavilion in its place shall stand ; 
 For, with the soil, the building is her own ! " 
 
THE KING S ASTROLOGER. 
 
 A HISTOKICAL INCIDENT. 
 
 FEW hearts, however brave they may appear, 
 
 Are wholly free from superstitious fear 
 
 Thirteen at table, or the salt upset, 
 
 A broken looking-glass, have served to fret 
 
 With anxious boding many a mind too proud 
 
 Its secret terrors to confess aloud. 
 
 A veteran soldier has been known to quail 
 
 At the white phantom in a nursery-tale ; 
 
 Or list the " death-watch," by the evening fire, 
 
 With fears that roaring guns could not inspire, 
 
 Though Science sought his quaking nerves to rule, 
 
 And calm-eyed Reason called the trembler " fool ! " 
 
 And many a monarch, boastful of his power, 
 
 And proud to make his slavish minions cower 
 
THE KING S ASTKOLOGEK. Ill 
 
 Beneath his royal frown, has been himself 
 The humblest slave of some imagined elf 
 Begot of Superstition s baleful night ; 
 Some wicked gnome or diabolic sprite, 
 Malicious fairy or vindictive " wraith," 
 Who, seeking to avenge man s broken faith 
 Or haughty scorn, sets all his plans awry, 
 Or blasts his harvests with an " evil eye ! " 
 
 When Louis the Eleventh ruled in France, 
 His favorite Astrologer, by chance, 
 Or by predicting some unwelcome thing 
 Concerning state-affairs, displeased the king 
 So much, the angry monarch (Rumor saith) 
 Resolved to put the hated seer to death ; 
 So, summoning the man, with this intent, 
 He mockingly demanded what it meant 
 That he who knew the mysteries of Fate, 
 And how of others death to fix the date, 
 Should be so ignorant about his own 1 
 The Seer, divining from his sneering tone 
 The monarch s purpose, answered, " I foresee, 
 Your Majesty, when that event will be ; 
 My death will happen (so my Star assures) 
 Three days precisely in advance of yours ! " 
 
112 THE KING S ASTROLOGER. 
 
 What was the monarch s answer 1 The report 
 Tells only this, that in the royal court 
 The Seer thenceforth was safely lodged, and there 
 To his life s end received the kindest care ! 
 
NO ADMITTANCE. 
 
 AN ORIENTAL TALE. 
 
 A WEALTHY Syrian Abdallah by name 
 
 Fell ill and died ; and when his spirit came 
 
 Before the gate of heaven, the angel there 
 
 (Who stands with awful and majestic air 
 
 To guard the Elysian portal) softly said, 
 
 " Whence comest thou 1 " The Syrian bowed his head, 
 
 And answered, " From Aleppo." " Very well, 
 
 What wert thou ? " asked the heavenly sentinel. 
 
 " A merchant." " True ; but tell me all the rest," 
 
 Replied the angel, " all, the worst and best ; 
 
 From me reflect no act can be concealed ! " 
 
 Whereat the merchant all his life revealed, 
 
 And nothing hid of aught that he had done : 
 
 How he had sailed beneath the Indian sun, 
 
114 NO ADMITTANCE. 
 
 In quest of diamonds, and for yellow gold 
 To Northern Asia j how he bought and sold 
 By the Red Sea, and on the wondrous Nile, 
 And stormy Persian Gulf; and all the while 
 Had bravely striven to keep his conscience clear, 
 Though always buying cheap and selling dear, 
 As merchants use, " And so I throve amain," 
 He said, " for many a year, nor all in vain 
 For public benefaction, since I gave 
 Freely for charity, content to save 
 Enough for me and mine, a handsome store, 
 And that is all." " Nay, there is something more," 
 The angel said. " Of thy domestic life 
 Thou hast not spoken, hadst thou not a wife 1 " 
 " Yes," said the Syrian, with a sigh that spoke 
 Of many a groan beneath the marriage yoke. 
 Whereat the angel said, " By God s rich grace, 
 Come in, poor suffering soul ! and take thy place 
 Among the martyrs, and give Heaven thanks ! " 
 Now, as he entered the celestial ranks, 
 Another soul approached the golden door, 
 Who, having heard all he who came before 
 Had spoken, and observed him entering in 
 The open portal, thought himself to win 
 
NO ADMITTANCE. 115 
 
 Easy admittance ; for when he had told 
 His history, like the other, he made bold 
 To add, " All this, Good Angel, is most true ; 
 And, as for wives, I ve had no less than two ! " 
 " Twice married ! " said the angel, with a face 
 Of wrath and scorn, " unfortunates have place 
 In heaven s blest mansions ; but, by Reason s rules, 
 (So get thee hence !) there is no room for fools ! " 
 
THE STRAY CAMEL. 
 
 AN ARABIAN TALE. 
 
 A CAMEL-DRIVER, who had lost 
 
 His camel, chancing to accost 
 
 A wandering Arab in the way, 
 
 Said, " Sir ! my beast has gone astray ; 
 
 And went, I think, the road you came." 
 
 " Pray," said the stranger, " was he lame ? " 
 
 " He was, indeed ! " was the reply. 
 
 " And, tell me, had he lost an eye 1 " 
 
 " T is even so ! " " And one front tooth 1 " 
 
 " In faith ! you speak the simple truth ! " 
 
 " And, for his load, was there a sack 
 
 Of honey on the camel s back 1 " 
 
 " There was, indeed ! now tell me, pray, 
 
 (Of course he can t be far away,) 
 
THE STRAY CAMEL. 117 
 
 Just when and where the brute you passed ; 
 And was he going slow or fast 1 " 
 " Faith ! " said the stranger, " on my word, 
 I know no more than I have heard 
 From your own lips ! Nor in my way 
 Have I observed, for many a day, 
 A camel like the one you claim ; 
 I swear it, in the Prophet s name ! " 
 
 The camel-driver all in vain 
 Besought the Arab to explain ; 
 He still insisted, as before, 
 That of the beast he knew no more 
 Than from the owner he had heard. 
 Whereat the. camel-driver, stirred 
 With wrath, expressed his firm belief 
 This knowing Arab was a thief; 
 Then to the Cadi off he went, 
 And told the tale. His Honor sent, 
 And brought the stranger into court. 
 " You hear this worthy man s report," 
 The Cadi said, " of what occurred ; 
 And still you answer not a word, 
 Save that his beast you never saw. 
 Allah is great ! and law is law ! 
 
118 THE STRAY CAMEL. 
 
 How know you, then, that he was lame ? " 
 
 " By this, that where the camel came, 
 
 Upon the sand one footprint lagged, 
 
 Which showed one foot the camel dragged." 
 
 " T is well explained ; now tell me why 
 
 You said the camel lacked an eye ? 
 
 And from his jaw one tooth had lost 1 " 
 
 " By this, that nowhere had he crossed 
 
 The road to browse the other side ; 
 
 And, furthermore, I plainly spied 
 
 Where er his teeth had chanced to pass, 
 
 A narrow line of standing grass, 
 
 Which showed, as clear as truth is truth, 
 
 The camel had one missing tooth ! " 
 
 " And how about the honey 1 " " Well, 
 
 It surely was n t hard to tell 
 
 The nature of the camel s load, 
 
 W^hen, gathered all along the road, 
 
 A thousand bees " " There, that will do," 
 
 The Cadi said ; " the case is through 
 
 And you re discharged ! But let me hint, 
 
 (A lesson plain as any print,) 
 
 A deal of trouble may arise 
 
 At times from being overwise ! " 
 
THE FIVE KNAVES. 
 
 AN ORIENTAL TALE. 
 
 ONCE on a time, in Indostan, 
 A thief conceived a cunning plan 
 (So potent is the voice of Hope) 
 To save his throttle from the rope, 
 Though now the day was drawing nigh 
 When he by law was doomed to die. 
 He bade the jailer tell the King- 
 He fain would show a wondrous thing, 
 A precious secret fairly worth 
 The ear of any prince on earth. 
 
 And now the culprit, being led 
 Into the royal presence, said, 
 " This golden coin which here you see, 
 If planted, will become a tree 
 
120 THE FIVE KNAVES. 
 
 Whose fruit, increased a hundred-fold, 
 Will be like this the purest gold. 
 I pray your Majesty to try 
 If this be true before I die." 
 With this, the King and courtiers went 
 Into the garden with intent 
 To plant the curious coin of gold ; 
 But now, when all was ready, " Hold ! " 
 Exclaimed the thief, "this hand of mine 
 Would surely spoil our whole design. 
 The hand that plants the gold must be 
 (Else all is nought) entirely free 
 From stain of fraud ; and so I pray 
 Your Gracious Majesty will lay 
 The seed in earth." " Yes, no, in sooth 
 The King replied, " for in my youth 
 I pilfered from my sire ; some stain, 
 For all my sorrow, may remain. 
 My good Prime Minister is here ; 
 His hand, no doubt, is wholly clear 
 Of any taint." " Nay," he replied, 
 " That s more than I can well decide ; 
 As Tax-Receiver now I may 
 Have kept a trifle. So I pray 
 
THE FIVE KNAVES. 121 
 
 To be excused, for prudence sake, 
 
 And let our Commissary take 
 
 The coin in hand. Sure that were best ; 
 
 For he, no doubt, can stand the test." 
 
 " Faith ! " said the Commissary, " I 
 
 Would rather not. I can t deny 
 
 My good intent ; but since I pay 
 
 Large sums of money every day 
 
 For soldiers, sailors, and a herd 
 
 Of spies, I would n t give my word 
 
 I have not kept a small amount, 
 
 Not entered in my book account. 
 
 Since any error e en the least 
 
 Would spoil the charm, pray let the Priest 
 
 Proceed to plant the coin of gold." 
 
 " Nay, that I fear were over-bold ; 
 
 Despite my prayers and pious zeal," 
 
 Replied his Reverence, "I deal 
 
 In tithes and sacrificial dues ; 
 
 And so I beg you will excuse 
 
 My sharing in a work like this 
 
 Where nothing must be done amiss." 
 
 "Faith ! " said the thief, "since no man here 
 (As we have learned) is wholly clear 
 
122 THE FIVE KNAVES. 
 
 Of knavish tricks, I ask you whether 
 We should not all be hung together 1 " 
 The monarch, laughing, made reply, 
 " Why, yes, if every rogue must die ! 
 Well, since we five are knaves confest, 
 I pardon you, and spare the rest ! " 
 
THE AMBITIOUS VINE. 
 
 AN APOLOGUE OF THE ALGIC INDIANS. 
 
 A VINE that stood beside a thriving Oak 
 
 Grew weary of the labor 
 Of self-support, and thus she plainly spoke 
 
 Unto her stronger neighbor : 
 
 " I prithee bend your handsome trunk to me, 
 
 My noble forest-brother ; 
 That, mutually embracing, we may be 
 
 Supporters of each other." 
 
 " Nay," said the tree, " I was not made to bend ; 
 
 I m strong and self-reliant, 
 As oaks are wont, but you, my pretty friend, 
 
 Are twenty times as pliant I 
 
124 THE AMBITIOUS VINE. 
 
 " So clasp your slender arms around me, dear ; 
 
 And we will grow together, 
 High as yon azure cloud, nor ever fear 
 
 The roughest wind or weather ! " 
 
 " Nay, nay," replied the foolish Vine, " I hate 
 
 To seem so much your debtor : 
 You do the twining, now, and I ll be straight ; 
 
 I d like it vastly better ! " 
 
 " Nature wills otherwise," the Oak replied, 
 
 " However you may grumble ; 
 The moment such a silly plan were tried, 
 
 Together we should tumble ! 
 
 "Come you to me ; and, taking Nature s course, 
 
 We 11 keep our proper places : 
 I to the twain will give my manly force, 
 
 And you your maiden graces. 
 
 " But if, perverse, you try to live alone, 
 
 With none to hold and cherish 
 Your slender form, before you re fairly grown, 
 
 You certainly will perish. 
 
THE AMBITIOUS VINE. 125 
 
 " Or if, instead of fondly clinging fast 
 
 To one who would protect you, 
 You flirt with others, all the trees at last 
 
 Will scornfully reject you." 
 
 i seej I see ! " exclaimed the musing Vine, 
 
 " The weaker must be nourished " ; 
 Then clasped the Oak with many a graceful twine, 
 
 And so they grew and flourished ! 
 
THYRSJS AND AMARANTH. 
 
 THYRSIS, enamored of a maid, 
 
 Fair Amaranth, a trick essayed 
 
 To test the way her fancy ran ; 
 
 And thus the simple swain began : 
 
 " Amy ! if you only knew, 
 
 And, like myself, could feel it too, 
 
 A certain malady that harms 
 
 Young fellows, while it sweetly charms, 
 
 I m sure you d wish your gentle breast 
 
 Were of the same disease possest. 
 
 Its name you may have chanced to hear ; 
 
 Tray let me breathe it in your ear, 
 
 T is LOVE ! my darling ! that s the word ! " 
 
 " T is one," quoth she, " that I have heard, 
 
THYRSIS AND AMARANTH. 127 
 
 And think it pretty ; pray reveal 
 
 Exactly how it makes you feel ; 
 
 And tell me plainly all the signs 
 
 By which its presence one divines." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the boy, " its very woes 
 
 Are ecstasies ! the patient goes 
 
 With laggard step and longing looks, 
 
 And murmurs love to babbling brooks, 
 
 And all the while, in every place, 
 
 Sees naught but one bewitching face ! 
 
 There is a shepherd-lad suppose 
 
 Whom some sweet village maiden knows. 
 
 She fears to see him ; yet would she, 
 
 If she might choose, no other see ; 
 
 If she but hears his voice or name, 
 
 Her cheeks are flushed with scarlet flame ; 
 
 At thought of him she heaves a sigh, 
 
 Yet cannot guess the reason why " 
 
 " Nay, stop ! " cries Amaranth, " I ween 
 
 I know the malady you mean ! 
 
 Although I did n t know its name, 
 
 I warrant, now, t is just the same 
 
 As that (I hope it is n t wrong !) 
 
 I ve felt for CLEDAMANT so long ! " 
 
128 TIIYRSIS AND AMARANTH. 
 
 <\ 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Poor Thyrsis ! He was not the first, 
 Nor yet the latest, who has shown 
 
 A rival s interest may be nursed 
 
 By one who seeks to serve his own ! 
 
A DOUBLE DISTRESS. 
 
 A PERSIAN TALE. 
 
 THAT blessings lost, though hard to bear, 
 
 Are light when weighed with carking care, - 
 
 Some ill whose ever-goading spite 
 
 Affects us morning, noon, and night, 
 
 Sadi, the Persian poet, shows 
 
 Most humorously. The story goes 
 
 So sings the bard that, on a time, 
 
 Somewhere within the Eastern clime, 
 
 A worthy gentleman, whose wife 
 
 Took sudden leave of him and life, 
 
 In deepest lamentation fell 
 
 For the dear dame whom long and well 
 
 The man had loved, as well might be, 
 
 For she was good, and fair to see, 
 
130 A DOUBLE DISTKESS. 
 
 And crowned with every winning grace 
 Of mind and soul to match her face. 
 
 What much his weight of woe increased, 
 The mother of the dear deceased, 
 A meddling beldame, old and cross, 
 Remained to help him mourn his loss. 
 From morn to night the vixen s tongue 
 He heard, and groaned ; and still she clung 
 Leech -like unto the widowed spouse ; 
 For, by the daughter s nuptial vows, 
 The woman said, it was agreed 
 Dared he dispute it 1 no, indeed ! 
 Her mother in the house should stay, 
 A guest unto her dying day ! 
 In vain the hapless man essayed 
 To buy her off; in vain portrayed 
 The pleasures of a trip to Rome ; 
 She still " preferred to stay at home ! " 
 
 One day, amidst the deafening din 
 Of angry tongues, some friends -came in, 
 With sympathetic voice to pay 
 Condolence, in the common way ; 
 And, hinting at his recent loss, 
 Hoped Heaven would help him bear his cross. 
 
A DOUBLE DISTRESS. 131 
 
 " Thanks ! " said the mourner, with a sigh, 
 
 " My loss is great, I can t deny ; 
 
 But for affliction, I must say, 
 
 What God was pleased to take away 
 
 A less calamity I find 
 
 Than what he chose to leave behind ! " 
 
THE TWO KINGS. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 WHEN mighty Jove had fashioned human kind, 
 And named the earth to be their dwelling-place, 
 
 (So in an Eastern apologue we find) 
 He sent two ministers to rale the race. 
 
 He gave command to Pleasure and to Pain 
 (Of heavenly, one, and one of hellish birth) : 
 
 " Henceforth, my minions, be it yours to reign 
 As sovereign lords o er all the sons of earth." 
 
 And soon it was agreed between the twain 
 A separate dominion would be best : 
 
 The vicious only should be ruled by Pain ; 
 And Pleasure be the master of the rest. 
 
THE TWO KINGS. 133 
 
 A proper plan enough it seemed, at first ; 
 
 But soon they found, despite each outward sign, 
 That save, indeed, between the best and worst 
 
 None less than Jove could fairly draw the line. 
 
 They found to make discrimination nice 
 To classify the race defied their skill : 
 
 The virtuous all had more or less of vice ; 
 
 The vicious showed some sparks of virtue still. 
 
 The generous man was " fashed wi worldly lust " ; 
 
 The devotee was full of saintly pride ; 
 The chaste was covetous ; and none so just 
 
 But they had still some little sin to hide. 
 
 And, looking sharply at the darker part, 
 Not one among them all was wholly bad j 
 
 Here was a sot who had a generous heart, 
 And there a thief who saved a drowning lad. 
 
 Virtue and Vice ! how easily they trace 
 The larger forms of each ; but to assign 
 
 Their just proportion in a special case, 
 
 Who but the gods could safely draw the line 1 
 
134 THE TWO KINGS. 
 
 And so it was agreed (lest strife befall 
 
 From such confusion) each, in turn, should reign 
 
 Pleasure should have dominion over all ; 
 
 And all, at times, should feel the rule of Pain. 
 
 And still, as erst, they rule the human race, 
 Pleasure and Pain, in short, alternate sway ; 
 
 And whichsoe er may show his regal face, 
 We know his fellow is not far away ! 
 
JUPITER AND HIS CHILDREN, 
 
 A CLASSIC FABLE. 
 
 ONCE on sublime Olympus, when 
 Great Jove, the sire of gods and men, 
 Was looking down on this our Earth, 
 And marking the increasing dearth 
 Of pious deeds and noble lives, 
 While vice abounds and meanness thrives, - 
 He straight determined to efface 
 At one fell swoop the thankless race 
 Of human kind. " Go ! " said the King 
 Unto his messenger, " and bring 
 The vengeful Furies; be it theirs, 
 Unmindful of their tears and prayers, 
 These wretches hateful from their birth 
 To wipe from off the face of earth ! " 
 
136 JUPITER AND HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 The message heard, with torch of flame 
 And reeking sword, Alecto came, 
 And by the beard of Pluto swore 
 The human race should be no more ! 
 
 But Jove, relenting thus to see 
 The direst of the murderous three, 
 And hear her menace, bade her go 
 Back to the murky realms below. 
 "Be mine the cruel task ! " he said, 
 And, at the word, a bolt he sped, 
 Which, falling in a desert place, 
 Left all unhurt the human race ! 
 
 Grown bold and bolder, wicked men 
 Wax worse and worse, until again 
 The stench to high Olympus came, 
 And all the gods began to blame 
 The monarch s weak indulgence, they 
 Would crush the knaves without delay ! 
 
 At this, the Ruler of the air 
 Proceeds a tempest to prepare, 
 Which, dark and dire, he swiftly hurled 
 In raging fury on the world ! 
 But not where human beings dwell 
 (So Jove provides) the tempest fell. 
 
JUPITER AND HIS CHILDREN. 137 
 
 And still the sin and wickedness 
 Of men grew more, instead of less ; 
 Whereat the gods declare, at length, 
 For thunderbolts of greater strength, 
 Which Vulcan soon, at Jove s command, 
 Wrought in his forge with dexterous hand. 
 Now from the smithy s glowing flame 
 Two different sorts of weapons came : 
 To hit the mark was one designed ; 
 As sure to miss, the other kind. 
 The second sort the Thunderer threw, 
 Which not a human being slew ; 
 But, roaring loudly, hurtled wide 
 On forest-top and mountain-side ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 What means this ancient tale 1 That Jove 
 In wrath still felt a parent s love ; 
 Whatever crimes he may have done, 
 The father yearns to spare the son. 
 
NOUS ET VOUS. 
 
 A GALLIC FABLE. 
 
 As two young friends were walking out, one day, 
 
 (So Florian has told,) 
 They chanced to see, before them, in the way 
 
 A well-filled purse of gold. 
 "By Jove ! a pretty prize for us ! " cried Ned; 
 
 While Tom with hasty hand 
 Was pocketing the purse. " For us ? " he said ; 
 
 " I do not understand 
 Your meaning, sir ; for me, sir ! that s the word ! " 
 
 (Joy beaming in his face.) 
 " Considering how the incident occurred, 
 
 * Us is n t in the case ! " 
 " Well, be it so ! " the other made reply; 
 
 " Although t is hardly fair ; 
 
NOUS ET VOUS. 139 
 
 I am not anxious, sir, indeed, not I, 
 
 Your treasure-trove to share ! " 
 Just then, two robbers plainly they espied 
 
 In waiting to accost 
 Our travellers, when Tom, a-tremble, cried, 
 
 " Ah ! brother, we are lost ! " 
 " We 1" answered Ned. " 0, we, have naught to fear: 
 
 T is you the rogues must face ; 
 You, you, my boy ! To me t is very clear 
 
 1 We is n t in the case ! " 
 And at the word away the fellow ran, 
 
 When, rushing from the wood, 
 The thieves attacked the unresisting man, 
 
 Who, pale with terror, stood 
 The while they robbed him of his precious purse, 
 
 Too weak for flight or strife, 
 No friend to aid him and (0 sad reverse !) 
 
 In peril of his life ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 So wags the world ! where oft the selfish " nous " 
 
 Seems fated to forget 
 The time may come when e en the humblest "vous" 
 
 May pay a friendly debt. 
 
140 NOUS ET VOUS. 
 
 The prosperous man who but himself regards, 
 May chance to change his tone, 
 
 When Fortune leaves him to his losing cards, 
 Unpitied and alone ! 
 
THE FAIRY AND THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 AN ORIENTAL TALE. 
 
 A FAIRY of the friendly sort 
 Who serve mankind as if in sport, 
 Know how to wash and sweep a room 
 With twirling mop and whisking broom, 
 In garden work are skilful too, 
 And apt in all that huswives do ; 
 But if you cross them, lo ! they cease 
 Their industry with strange caprice, 
 Or, more perversely, quickly spoil 
 The product of their former toil, 
 A fairy of this curious kind 
 (Which still in merry books we find) 
 Had aided long a farmer s skill 
 His land to plough and plant and till, 
 
142 THE FAIRY AND THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 Until the honest yeoman grew 
 Not rich, indeed, but well-to-do, 
 Thanks to the faiiy, nimble sprite ! 
 Who served his master day and night 
 (For still the fay his vigils kept 
 While master, man, and mistress slept), 
 Until at last the vagrant mood 
 That ever rules the goblin-brood 
 Was his no more : he fain would dwell 
 W T ith those whom he has served so well ; 
 For to the giver kindness makes 
 A joy surpassing his who takes. 
 
 But now, alas ! (and hence we see 
 That fays have griefs as well as we,) 
 An order from the Fairy-King 
 Came, with an escort, charged to bring 
 The farmer s favorite, that he 
 Might straight attend his Majesty 
 At Land s-End ! he would have it so, 
 And so, perforce, the fay must go. 
 But ere he left his rustic life, 
 He bade the farmer and his wife 
 Three several wishes to express. 
 "Just three," he said, "no more, nor less, 
 
THE FAIRY AND THE THREE WISHES. 143 
 
 And these will I at once fulfil, 
 
 Whate er, my friends, may be your will ! " 
 
 The first was sure an easy task ; 
 For wealth vast wealth, of course, they ask. 
 It comes ! and with it all the train 
 Of ills that vex the heart and brain 
 Of those who pay the taxes which 
 (Beside the king s !) annoy the rich, 
 Thieves, swindlers, beggars, borrowers, all 
 That plunder parlor, kitchen, hall, 
 By various arts, force, fraud, and lies ! 
 " Take all away ! " the farmer cries ; 
 " The poor are happier than they 
 Who to such harpies fall a prey ; 
 0, give us back, dear sprite, once more 
 Contentment and our humble store." 
 Two wishes gone, to bring the man 
 And dame just where they first began ! 
 At thought of this they laughed outright ; 
 So did the fairy (sprightly sprite !) 
 But ere he went, with friendly voice, 
 He helrjed them to a better choice : 
 T was WISDOM ! riches of the mind, 
 Surpassing all that misers find 
 
144 THE FAIRY AND THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 In money-bags ; abundance rare 
 And void of grief and carking care ; 
 Wealth if it bear the genuine seal 
 Which none can borrow, beg, or steal ! 
 
THE RIVAL QUEENS. 
 
 AN APOLOGUE. 
 
 A DAMASK Rose and a Lily white, 
 
 Each lovely as ever was known, 
 Grew doubly red and pale with spite 
 
 Concerning the floral throne. 
 
 For some declared the Lily was queen ; 
 
 While others, as firm as those, 
 Said, " No ! just look at her languid mien ; 
 
 Our sovereign shall be the Rose /" 
 
 " A queen," said the friends of the ruddy Rose, 
 " The royal purple should wear"; 
 
 "A queen," twas answered, "every one knows, 
 Should like the Lily be fair ! " 
 
146 THE KIVAL QUEENS. 
 
 The quarrel was bitter and long and loud, 
 
 And all for battle were fain ; 
 No wonder, I ween, the Rose grew- proud ; 
 
 No wonder the Lily grew vain ! 
 
 And so, for many a hateful day 
 
 And many an angry week 
 They tossed their heads in a scornful way, 
 
 And both refused to speak. 
 
 Until, one day, with the golden morn, 
 
 The slumbering Rose awoke, 
 And, all ashamed of her recent scorn, 
 
 To her rival kindly spoke. 
 
 "0 lovely Lily ! " exclaimed the Rose ; 
 
 " What boots it, lady, that we 
 Should stand and stare like foolish foes, 
 
 Who were wont good friends to be 3 " 
 
 " Ah ! why, indeed 1 " the Lily replied, 
 As toward the other she bends 
 
 With a graceful nod, " T is pity that pride 
 Should sever the best of friends ! 
 
THE EIVAL QUEENS. 147 
 
 " And I ve been thinking," the Lily went on, 
 
 " That not by arrogant claims 
 A true nobility best is shown, 
 
 But in noble acts and aims." 
 
 " And I ve been thinking," the Rose returned, 
 
 " For all our pride of race, 
 In every flower may be discerned 
 
 Some sweet, peculiar grace. 
 
 " Though Rose be red, and Lily be fair, 
 
 With all the charms we ve got, 
 The humblest flower in field or bower 
 
 Hath some that we have not ! " 
 
PROVIDENCE IMPARTIAL. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 AN old Hellenic saw declares 
 The gods, who govern men s affairs 
 Impartial (grumble as we may), 
 For all their favors make us pay 
 According to their special worth : 
 Wealth, honor, beauty, noble birth, 
 Has each its price ; and still the higher 
 The gift, the more the gods require ! 
 Hence, let not foolish pride inflate 
 The seeming favorites of Fate. 
 A Fir-tree, very large and tall, 
 That grew beside a Bramble small, 
 Was boasting of his strength and size : 
 " What houses I would make ! " he cries ; 
 
PROVIDENCE IMPARTIAL. 149 
 
 " While you are simply good for naught, 
 
 Unworthy of the Woodman s thought ! " 
 
 " True ! " said the Bramble ; " but reflect ! 
 
 If he were here, would you elect 
 
 (Think of his axe, and tell me, sir) 
 
 To be a Bramble or a Fir ? " 
 
THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. 
 
 " GIVE me your soldiers bracelets ; all 
 Their splendid jewels, great and small, 
 And straight your army shall be led 
 "Within the city walls." So said 
 Tarpeia, while the Sabine waits 
 In siege before the Roman gates. 
 
 Whereat each soldier, filing past 
 The traitress, on her body cast 
 His heavy bracelet ; till at last 
 The shining heap became so great, 
 She fell and died beneath their weight. 
 
 Even so it fares with mortals, who 
 With headlong eagerness pursue 
 Ambition, pleasure, wealth, or fame ; 
 The glittering prize at which they aim 
 Comes often, like Tarpeia s fate, 
 To bruise and crush them with its weight. 
 
JUST ONE DEFECT. 
 
 A PERSIAN FABLE. 
 
 WHO buys a house, however fine 
 
 In architectural design, 
 
 And howsoever vast and grand 
 
 The prospect which it may command, 
 
 May very prudently explore 
 
 Concerning one condition more : 
 
 So Sadi sings, and tells of one, 
 
 Somewhere beneath the Persian sun, 
 
 Who thought to buy a mansion where 
 
 A foul-mouthed broker praised the air 
 
 And all things else, with eager voice : 
 
 " You could not make a better choice," 
 
 The fellow bawled. " Now, look ye here ! 
 
 I ve lived next door this twenty year, 
 
152 JUST ONE DEFECT. 
 
 And know the house is fairly worth 
 Ten times the price ! There s not on earth 
 A finer building ! Just inspect 
 The place, and mention one defect ! " 
 " Why, truly," said the man, " I see 
 But one." " Indeed ! what may it be 1 " 
 " The house I should not reckon dear, 
 I think, if yours were not so near ! " 
 
LOVE AND POETRY. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 I. 
 
 To Psyche, when her maiden heart 
 Was fancy-free, the Muses went 
 
 To teach her the poetic art ; 
 
 But all in vain their kind intent ; 
 
 She answered, she did not desire 
 
 To meddle with poetic fire ! 
 
 n. 
 But Cupid came, and won the maid 
 
 (Psyche " the soul " of all things good) 
 Her husband s teaching she obeyed, 
 
 And caught from him the lyric mood ; 
 And ever since as all agree 
 Love is the soul of Poesy ! 
 
REASON VERSUS CUSTOM. 
 
 AN APOLOGUE. 
 
 ONCE on a time, a man of sterling sense 
 
 At Fashion s whims and shams took such offence, 
 
 He vowed, at last, that not another day 
 
 Would he submit to her despotic sway ; 
 
 Thenceforth, he said, do others as they might, 
 
 He meant, for one, to follow Reason s light ! 
 
 " A brave resolve ! " his laughing neighbors cried. 
 
 "Well, well," he answered, "you shall see it tried 
 
 In practice; thus when Fashion disagrees 
 
 With Reason (as in life one daily sees) 
 
 I mean, henceforth, in all things, great and small, 
 
 As you shall note, to follow Reason s call." 
 
 And so it came to pass ; from that day forth, 
 
 He judged all things by their intrinsic worth 
 
REASON VERSUS CUSTOM. 155 
 
 Or seeming fitness ; furnished his abode, 
 
 And wore his clothes, regardless of the mode ; 
 
 All things discarding as a foolish waste 
 
 Which seemed discordant with the laws of taste, 
 
 Or clearly served no profitable end ; 
 
 Whate er, in brief, his reason might commend 
 
 Of old or new he took into his plan 
 
 Of living, like a reasonable man ; 
 
 In Fashion s mere despite rejecting naught, 
 
 Nor at her mere -behest accepting aught 
 
 Which Reason interdicted. Who can say 
 
 He was not wise, or name a wiser way ? 
 
 A scheme like this should surely prosper wellj 
 
 But if you ask me truthfully to tell 
 
 The sequel, I must candidly confess 
 
 T was what the reader may have chanced to guess. 
 
 With every step our bold reformer took, 
 
 By just so much consider he forsook 
 
 The common path. " The oddest man in town ! " 
 
 His neighbors said, at first then set him down 
 
 For " half-demented ! " By and by, they vowed 
 
 Such wild, strange actions should not be allowed ; 
 
 The man was clearly " going to the bad." 
 
 At last, his dear relations proved him mad, 
 
156 REASON VERSUS CUSTOM. 
 
 In open court, and shut him in a cell ; 
 
 AVhere long he lived with lunatics, to tell 
 
 His doleful tale ; and earnestly advise 
 
 Against the foolishness of being wise 
 
 Where folly is the mode ! "I tried to steer 
 
 My course by Reason, and she brought me here ! " 
 
THE SULTAN AND THE EX-VIZIER. 
 
 A COLLOQUY : FROM THE PERSIAN. 
 SULTAN. 
 
 SINCE you turned Dervish, long ago, 
 By true report your life I know, 
 And high advance in wisdom s lore ; 
 And much, believe me, I deplore 
 The day I lost by envious Fate 
 My good Prime Minister of State. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 Thanks ! gracious Sire ! the life I live 
 Has more of peace than power can give ; 
 Here, in my cloister, I have learned 
 Contempt of rank ; and all I earned 
 Of power and pelf in your employ 
 Would poorly stead my present joy. 
 
158 THE SULTAN AND THE EX- VIZIER. 
 
 SULTAN. 
 
 No doubt ! and as for power and pelf, 
 
 I d like a quiet life myself; 
 
 And yet your wisdom I would fain 
 
 Employ to serve my realm again ; 
 
 The truly wise are truly great, 
 
 And such alone, should rule the state. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 T is true, your Majesty ; and yet, 
 I would not pay the hateful debt : 
 You call me wise ; well be it so ; 
 But being wise, I must forego 
 An office which (am I too bold ?) 
 A wise man would not choose to hold ! 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 A RABBINICAL TALE. 
 
 GOOD Rabbi Nathan had rejoiced to spend 
 
 A social se nnight with his ancient friend, 
 
 The Rabbi Isaac. In devout accord 
 
 They read the Sacred Books, and praised the Lord 
 
 For all his mercies unto them and theirs ; 
 
 Until, one day, remembering some affairs 
 
 That asked his instant presence, Nathan said, 
 
 " Too long, my friend, (so close my soul is wed 
 
 To thy soul,) has the silent lapse of days 
 
 Kept me thy guest ; although with prayer and praise 
 
 The hours were fragrant. Now the time has come 
 
 When, all-reluctant, I must hasten home 
 
 To other duties than the dear delights 
 
 To which thy gracious friendship still invites." 
 
 "Well, be it so, if so it needs must be," 
 
 The host made answer; "be it far from me 
 
160 THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 To hinder thee in aught that Duty lays 
 Upon thy pious conscience. Go thy ways ; 
 And take my blessing ! but, friend of mine, 
 In His name whom thou servest, give me thine ! " 
 "Already," Nathan answered, "had I sought 
 Some fitting words to bless thee ; and I thought 
 About the palm-tree, giving fruit and shade ; 
 And in my grateful heart, friend, I prayed 
 That Heaven be pleased to make thee even so ! 
 idle benediction ! Well I know 
 Thou lackest nothing of all perfect fruit 
 Of generous souls; or pious deeds that suit 
 With pious worship. Well I know thine alms 
 In hospitable shade exceed the palm s ; 
 And, for rich fruitage, can that noble tree, 
 With all her opulence, compare with thee 1 
 Since, then, friend, I cannot wish thee more, 
 In thine own person, than thy present store 
 Of Heaven s best bounty, I will even pray 
 That as the palm-tree, though it pass away, 
 By others, of its seed, is still replaced 
 So thine own stock may evermore be graced 
 With happy sons and daughters, who shall be, 
 In wisdom, strength, and goodness, like to thee ! " 
 
PERSEVERE AND PROSPER. 
 
 AN ARABIAN TALE. 
 
 " To the manly will there s ever a way ! " 
 
 Said a simple Arab youth ; 
 "And I m going to try, this very day, 
 
 If my teacher tells the truth : 
 He s always saying, the good old man, 
 
 Now, please remember, my dear, 
 You are sure to win, whatever you plan, 
 
 If you steadily persevere ! 
 
 " I mean to try it, upon my life ! 
 
 If I go through fire and water ; 
 And, since I wish to marry a wife, 
 
 I 11 have the Calif s daughter ! " 
 So off to the Vizier straight he goes, 
 
 Who only laughed at the lad ; 
 And said him " Nay," as you may suppose, 
 
 For he thought the fellow was mad ! 
 
162 PERSEVERE AND PROSPER. 
 
 And still for many and many a day 
 
 He came to plead his case, 
 But the Vizier only answered " Nay," 
 
 And laughed him in the face. 
 At last, the Calif came across 
 
 The youth in the Vizier s hall, 
 And, asking what his errand was, 
 
 The Vizier told him all. 
 
 " Now, by my head ! " the Calif said, 
 
 " T is only the wise and great 
 A Calif s daughter may ask to wed, 
 
 For rank with rank must mate ; 
 Unless, mayhap, some valiant deed 
 
 May serve for an equal claim 
 (For merit, I own, should have its meed, 
 
 And princes yield to Fame). 
 
 " In the Tigris once a gem was lost, 
 T was ages and ages since, 
 
 A Ruby of wondrous size and cost, 
 And fit for the noblest prince ; 
 
 That gem, my lad, must surely be 
 Somewhere beneath the water, 
 
PERSEVERE AND PROSPER. 163 
 
 Go find it, boy, and bring it to me ; 
 Then come and marry my daughter ! " 
 
 "And so I will ! " the lad replied, 
 
 And off to the river he ran ; 
 And he dips away at the foamy tide, 
 
 As fast as ever he can : 
 With a little cup he dips away ; 
 
 Now, what s the fellow about ? 
 He s going to find the gem, some day, 
 
 By draining the Tigris out ! 
 
 And still he dips by day and night, 
 
 Till the fishes begin to cry, 
 " This fellow is such a wilful wight, 
 
 He 11 dip the river dry ! " 
 And so they sent their monarch to say 
 
 (A wise and reverend fish), 
 " Now why are you dipping our water away 1 
 
 And what do you please to wish ] " 
 
 " I want the Ruby, sir," he cried. 
 
 " Well, please to let us alone, 
 And stop your dipping," the fish-king cried, 
 
 " And the gem shall be your own ! " 
 
164 PERSEVERE AND PROSPER. 
 
 And he fetched the Ruby, of wondrous size, 
 
 From out the foamy water ; 
 And so the lad obtained his prize, 
 
 And married the Calif s daughter ! 
 
 L ENVOI. 
 This pleasant story was meant to teach 
 
 That pluck is more than skill ; 
 And few are the ends beyond the reach 
 
 Of a strong, untiring will ! 
 
LAKE SARATOGA. 
 
 AN INDIAN LEGEND. 
 
 A LADY stands beside the silver lake. 
 
 "What," said the Mohawk, "wouldst thou have 
 
 me do ? " 
 " Across the water, sir, be pleased to take 
 
 Me and my children in thy bark canoe." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Chief, " thou knowest not, I think, 
 The legend of the lake, hast ever heard 
 
 That in its wave the stoutest boat will sink, 
 If any passenger shall speak a word 1 " 
 
 " Full well we know the Indian s strange belief," 
 
 The lady answered, with a civil smile ; 
 " But take us o er the water, mighty Chief; 
 
 In rigid silence we will sit the while." 
 
1C6 LAKE SARATOGA. 
 
 Thus they embarked, but ere the little boat 
 Was half across the lake, the woman gave 
 
 Her tongue its wonted play but still they float, 
 And pass in safety o er the utmost wave ! 
 
 / 
 Safe on the shore, the warrior looked amazed, 
 
 Despite the stoic calmness of his race ; 
 No word he spoke, but long the Indian gazed 
 In moody silence in the woman s face. 
 
 " What think you now 1 " the lady gayly said ; 
 
 " Safely to land your frail canoe is brought ! 
 No harm, you see, has touched a single head ! 
 
 So superstition ever comes to naught ! " 
 
 Smiling, the Mohawk said, " Our safety shows 
 That God is merciful to old and young ; 
 
 Thanks unto the Great Spirit ! well he knows 
 The pale-faced woman cannot hold her tongue ! " 
 
THE IMPAETIAL JUDGE. 
 
 A PERSIAN TALE. 
 
 To good Ben Asher of immortal lame 
 
 In eager haste a worthy subject came, 
 
 And, bowing low before the Sultan, cried, 
 
 " Prince of Believers ! who has ne er denied 
 
 Impartial justice to the meanest slave, 
 
 Some fitting punishment I humbly crave 
 
 On one who in my house has wrought a shame ; 
 
 A deed of violence I need not name 
 
 In further speech ; for, Sire ! the fearful fact 
 
 Was seen by those who seized him in the act ! " 
 
 " Go, bring him here ! " the Sultan said; "but first 
 
 Put out the lights. The villain s face accurst 
 
 I would not see." Now, when all this was done, 
 
 The Sultan, standing by, commanded one 
 
 To seize and stab the culprit to the heart ! 
 
168 THE IMPAETIAL JUDGE. 
 
 " Now light the lamps ! " The Sultan then (apart 
 To his Vizier, the while his hands he raised 
 Devoutly heavenward) said, " God be praised 
 For this that I behold ! " The Vizier asked, 
 What favor Heaven had done in this, that tasked 
 The Sultan s gratitude ? " I feared my son," 
 Ben Asher said, " this dreadful deed had done ; 
 And, meaning still that justice should prevail, 
 And fearing lest my doting heart should fail, 
 I durst not see the man till he was dead ; 
 Judge, then, my joy," the trembling Sultan said, 
 "That, looking on the wretch so justly slain, 
 I find, thank Heaven ! my terror was in vain ! " 
 
THE ELEPHANT S SERMON. 
 
 YIUARTE/ 
 
 IN olden times, when it is said 
 The humblest of the brute creation 
 
 (Though not in school or college bred) 
 Possessed the art of conversation ; 
 
 The Elephant, as chief High- Priest, 
 Of brutes the proper censor morum, 
 
 Assembled every bird and beast, 
 
 And plainly laid their faults before em. 
 
 Some were of vanity accused 
 
 (Though none by name the priest addresses), 
 And some their talents had abused 
 
 By indolence or wild excesses ; 
 1 See note on page 269. 
 
170 THE ELEPHANT S SERMON. 
 
 And some were charged with envious minds, 
 And some with foolish ostentation ; 
 
 And not a few the censor finds 
 Convict of wanton depredation. 
 
 And some, the Elephant declares, 
 Are basely cruel and malicious ; 
 
 Some fail to mind their own affairs ; 
 And most, in some respect, are vicious. 
 
 The faithful Hound, the trusty Horse, 
 The constant Dove, the modest Linnet, 
 
 The Sermon hear without remorse ; 
 Nay, find a deal of pleasure in it ! 
 
 In brief, the best of all the crowd 
 
 Are charmed to hear the wise prelection ; 
 
 The others frown, or rave aloud, 
 
 Or hang thejr heads in deep dejection. 
 
 The Wolf and Tiger howl in wrath, 
 To hear the parson s faithful chiding ; 
 
 The Serpent hisses in his path ; 
 
 The Worm goes wriggling to his hiding. 
 
THE ELEPHANT S SERMON. 171 
 
 The Wasp and Hornet buzz their spite ; 
 
 The Monkey mocks with hideous grinning ; 
 The Fox goes sneaking out of sight, 
 
 To wait another chance for sinning. 
 
 " Ah, well ! " the Elephant exclaims, 
 
 " Though ill enough ye seem to bear it, 
 
 (Remember, I have called no names;) 
 
 Whom the coat fits, may take and wear it ! " 
 
THE CONNOISSEURS. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 WITHIN a wine-vault once arose 
 A quarrel so the story goes 
 Among the Bacchanalian crowd, 
 So fierce and bitter, long and loud, 
 It fairly threatened broken laws, 
 And bloody noses, all because 
 Two parties held conflicting views 
 About the fittest way to choose 
 Their beverage ! Some stoutly hold, 
 " A first-rate tap is always old ; 
 At least, a thousand proofs attest 
 The oldest always is the best. 
 Not till the cunning spiders spin 
 A million lines across the bin, 
 Do men of sense imbibe the juice ; 
 
THE CONNOISSEURS. 173 
 
 Then, only then, t is fit for use, 
 Pure, mellow, fragrant, ripe ; in fine, 
 Worthy the glorious name of wine ! " 
 The others just as roundly swear, 
 " New wine is best. Age " (they declare) 
 " Is far more apt to mar than mend 
 Good wine (whatever fools pretend) 
 And then t is oft a mere device, 
 Got up by rogues to raise the price ! " 
 While thus with wrath that grew to rage, 
 Their foolish feud the wranglers wage, 
 Up-spoke a stranger, from Navarre : 
 " Cease, gentlemen \ your wordy war ! 
 I ve tippled wine of every sort, 
 Canary, Malta, Xeres, Port, 
 And many a famous tap beside ; 
 All brands and ages have I tried, 
 The white, the red, the old, the new, 
 The good, the bad, the false, the true ; 
 I ve drunk in cellar, booth, and inn ; 
 I ve drunk from bottle, cask, and skin ; 
 And if there be a judge of wine, 
 To know the fair, the foul, the fine, 
 In glass or bumper, cup or can, 
 
174 THE CONNOISSEURS. 
 
 By jolly Bacchus ! I m the man ! 
 Crede experto ! Take my word, 
 For all the nonsense you have heard 
 About the charm of old or new, 
 T is trial only tests the true ! 
 Old wine may still be wretched stuff, 
 And new wine excellent enough 
 For men or gods ! No rule on earth, 
 Save drinking, can decide its worth. 
 Give me good wine, and I engage 
 I 11 not inquire about its age ! " 
 
 L ENVOI. 
 
 In Books and Art some bid us seek 
 The highest worth in the " antique " ; 
 While other critics (just as wise) 
 No genius but the "modern" prize : 
 In judging either, I protest 
 I think the toper s rule is best ! 
 
THE ROYAL CONCERT. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 THE animals once, so the legends report, 
 To honor the Lion, their popular king, 
 
 A concert proposed, in his majesty s court, 
 At which all the brutes were invited to sing. 
 
 Not all, I should say, as a lover of truth, 
 For somehow or other the managers missed 
 
 The principal matter, and managed, in sooth, 
 To have the best singers left out of the list ! 
 
 Not a Nightingale, Wood-thrush, or Blackbird was in it ; 
 
 Nay, even the Lark and Canary were slighted ; 
 No mention was made of the musical Linnet ; 
 
 But all of the others were warmlv invited ! 
 
176 THE ROYAL CONCERT. 
 
 There was plenty of jealousy, you may be sure, 
 And wrangling enough, as is always the case 
 
 When the cleverest maestro attempts to secure 
 For each of his singers the properest place. 
 
 T is settled at last ; the rehearsal is done ; 
 
 And now for the Concert the vocalists meet, 
 With no fear of failure, for every one 
 
 What he s wanting in talent makes up in conceit ! 
 
 A couple of Hornets the tenor essayed ; 
 
 The Crickets attempted the treble and alto; 
 The basso (of course) by a Donkey was brayed ; 
 
 While to Locusts and Frogs was assigned the con 
 tralto ! 
 
 The singers commence ! but no answering cheers 
 Reward their endeavors, the audience swore 
 
 (While some ran away and some stopt up their ears) 
 That never was music so murdered before ! 
 
 At this, the performers, abating their noise, 
 
 Sought, each for himself, some ingenious excuse ; 
 
 And straight on his fellows with vigor employs 
 The fiercest reproaches and foulest abuse. 
 
THE KOYAL CONCERT. 177 
 
 The Frogs said the Crickets were quite out of place ; 
 
 Such villanous treble they never had heard ! 
 The Crickets replied by denouncing the bass ; 
 
 A Donkey sing bass ? it was truly absurd ! 
 
 " T was the fault of the Frogs!" was the Donkey s reply; 
 
 " T is clearly the Hornets ! " the Locusts exclaim ; 
 The Hornets returned, " T is a thundering lie ! " 
 
 And on their accusers retorted the blame. 
 
 Then the King of the Beasts, who could bear it no more, 
 Looked down from his throne, with a growl and a grin, 
 
 And thus spoke his mind, in a terrible roar, 
 
 Which silenced at once their obstreperous din : 
 
 Go ! out of my hearing, ye ignorant crew ; 
 
 Ere it came to the trial, each impudent wight 
 Was boasting the wonderful things he could do ; 
 
 Quick ! out of my hearing and out of my sight ! " 
 
 MORAL. 
 So in human affairs, when pretenders, who once 
 
 In arrogant boasting had vied with each other, 
 Meet a common disaster, then every dunce 
 
 Excuses himself by accusing another ! 
 
THE BARNYARD CRITICS. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 A PIG and Sheep together slept 
 
 In the same farm-yard ; and with these 
 A gallant Cock his vigils kept, 
 
 Who, with his fellows, dwelt in peace. 
 
 " A pleasant sort of life is this," 
 
 The Porker said. " Say, Madam Sheep I 
 Is not the highest earthly bliss 
 
 To lie at ease, and eat and sleep ? 
 
 " For me, I think the perfect leisure 
 
 And luxury in which we live, 
 Worth more than all the active pleasure 
 
 That men or gods have power to give ! " 
 
THE BARNYARD CRITICS. 179 
 
 The woolly dame has naught to say, 
 Too meek to answer ; though she tries, 
 
 While listening in a civil way, 
 
 To look (in vain !) extremely wise ! 
 
 But Chanticleer, who chanced to hear 
 These sage reflections, cocked his eye, 
 
 Gave a shrill crow his throat to clear, 
 And thus to Piggie made reply : 
 
 " A sleepy life, I must confess, 
 
 Were very little to my taste ; 
 To live like you in idleness, 
 
 Of time is, sure, a foolish waste. 
 
 " To rule the roost, and strut about, 
 
 That s happiness, in my belief. 
 A little sleep is well, no doubt ; 
 
 But, for one s health, it should be brief. 
 
 " In fact, I ve tried it ; and I find 
 
 One s slumbers should be always light ; 
 
 Sleep surely stupefies the mind, 
 
 While watching makes it clear and bright." 
 
180 THE BARNYARD CRITICS. 
 
 While thus they argue, loud and long, 
 The patient Sheep has listened well ; 
 
 But which is right and which is wrong 
 Is something more than she can tell. 
 
 She little dreams the wranglers draw 
 (Like other critics, great and small) 
 
 Each from himself the narrow law 
 By which he seeks to govern all ! 
 
THE FIGHTING COCKS. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 A FINE old cock a cock renowned, 
 In brief, for many a mile around 
 His native farm-yard came at length 
 With a young cock to pit his strength : 
 A callow chick, who fought so well, 
 Despite the odds, that strange to tell 
 The elder was compelled to yield, 
 And, fairly vanquished, leave the field 
 And laurel to his youthful foe, 
 Who now set up a lusty crow, 
 As dunghill victors always will, 
 In pride of courage, strength, or skill. 
 
 All breathless with the battle s heat, 
 The other sought a safe retreat, 
 
182 THE FIGHTING COCKS. 
 
 Where thus he gave reflection tongue : 
 
 " Well fought by Jove ! for one so young ! 
 
 Give him the proper age and height, 
 
 He d make, no doubt, a pretty fight ! " 
 
 No more our philosophic bird 
 With his late foe was seen or heard 
 In close debate, for well he knows 
 That words, at last, may come to blows ; 
 And with a chick so fierce and tough, 
 One trial clearly was enough ! 
 
 But soon it chanced occasion lent 
 A turn to give his temper vent ; 
 A neighbor truculent and bold 
 Despite his years (for he was old, 
 And long had gloried in the praise 
 Of brave exploits in former days), 
 Our hero forced into a fight, 
 And, rallying with all his might, 
 Soon drove him fairly from the ground ! 
 
 Alone at last, he looked around, 
 And seeing that the coast was clear, 
 That none the monologue might hear, 
 Thus to himself expressed his mind : 
 " What unexpected things we find ! 
 
THE FIGHTING COCKS. 183 
 
 For such an old historic cock 
 
 How well he bore the battle shock ! 
 
 How venerable age appears ! 
 
 And so I spared him for his years ! " 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 How shrewdly men contrive to hide, 
 E en from themselves, their wounded pride ! 
 
THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ORGAN. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 A Nightingale who chanced to hear 
 An Organ s deep and swelling tone, 
 
 Was wont to lend a careful ear, 
 
 That so she might improve her own. 
 
 . One evening, while the Organ s note 
 
 Thrilled through the wood, and Philomel 
 Sat tuning her melodious throat 
 To imitate its wondrous swell, 
 
 A twittering Sparrow, hopping near, 
 
 Said, " Prithee, now, be pleased to state 
 
 What from those wooden pipes you hear 
 That you can wish to imitate 1 
 
THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ORGAN. 185 
 
 " I do not hesitate to say, 
 
 Whatever the stupid thing can do 
 
 To please us, in a vocal way, 
 
 That very Organ learned from you ! 
 
 11 Of all sweet singers none is greater 
 Than Philomel ; but, on my word ! 
 
 To imitate one s imitator, 
 
 Can aught on earth be more absurd 1 " 
 
 " Nay," said the Nightingale, " if aught 
 From me the Organ ever learned, 
 
 By him no less have I been taught, 
 And thus the favor is returned. 
 
 " Thus to my singing don t you see 1 
 
 Some needed culture I impart ; 
 For Nature s gifts, as all agree, 
 
 Are finest when improved by Art 1 " 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Whate er the foolish Sparrow thought, 
 The Nightingale (so Wisdom votes) 
 
 Was wise in choosing to be taught 
 E en by an Organ s borrowed notes. 
 
186 THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ORGAN. 
 
 And hence the Student may obtain 
 Some useful rules to guide his course : 
 
 Shun self-conceit ; nor e er disdain 
 Instruction from the humblest source ! 
 
THE LIZARDS. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 A FAMOUS Naturalist, whose knife 
 Made cruel work with insect life, 
 Dissecting muscle, vein, and nerve, 
 Remorseless, with intent to serve 
 The cause of Science, and no thought 
 Of all the suffering he wrought, 
 Two lizards in his garden caught, 
 And straight proceeded to dissect 
 The biggest one, and then inspect 
 The severed parts, head, tail, and skin, 
 And all the mysteries within ; 
 And as each part is made to pass 
 Beneath his microscopic glass, 
 He takes his pen, and in a book 
 
188 THE LIZARDS. 
 
 Records each scientific look, 
 For future use ; then takes his pen, 
 And with his glass begins again. 
 Weary at length, he stops to hear 
 Remarks of friends. Some only sneer 
 At what they deem mere waste of time, 
 If not for cruelty a crime ; 
 While others marvel much to learn 
 (As at the glass they take their turn) 
 What mighty things are lodged within 
 The compass of a lizard s skin ! 
 While thus they talk of what the eye 
 Of Science caused them to descry 
 In the dead lizard, sooth to say, 
 His living brother ran away ! 
 
 Arrived at home, he quickly sends 
 An invitation to his friends 
 To come and hear what wondrous things 
 From his late tour the traveller* brings ; 
 Then tells the story you have heard 
 (Above), omitting not a word 
 Of all that to his friend occurred. 
 " Strange as it seems," the lizard cries, 
 " T is true ! I saw it with these eyes ! 
 
THE LIZARDS. 189 
 
 Now if such things in us there be 
 As men of Science stare to see, 
 And straightway write the items down, 
 Say, shall we heed the stupid clown 
 Who calls us lizards vermin 1 Nay ! 
 Whatever envious folks may say, 
 Vie re clearly noble. Let us claim 
 The rank that suits the lizard s name ! " 
 
 MORAL. 
 When keen Reviewers criticise 
 
 The stuff that puny authors write, 
 (Which worms alone should analyze,) 
 
 They only give the fools delight, 
 Who cry, " The book is surely great 
 Which so much interest can create ! " 
 
FLINT AND STEEL. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 THE Flint and Steel the story goes 
 
 Old friends by natural relation, 
 Fell out, one day, and, like two foes, 
 
 Indulged in bitter altercation. 
 
 " I m weary," said the angry Flint, 
 " Of being beat ; t is past concealing ; 
 
 Your conduct (witness many a dint 
 Upon my sides !) is most unfeeling. 
 
 " And what reward have I to show 1 
 What sort of payment do you render 
 
 To one who bears each hateful blow 
 
 That you may blaze in transient splendor 1 
 
FLINT AND STEEL. 19.1 
 
 " You seem to think yourself abused," 
 The Steel replied with proper spirit ; 
 
 " But, say, unless with me you re used, 
 What praise of service do you merit 1 
 
 " Your worth, as any one may see 
 
 (For all your feeling of defiance), 
 Is simply nought, unless with me 
 
 You keep your natural alliance." 
 
 "True ! " said the Flint; "but there s no call, 
 Whatever my worth, for you to flout it ; 
 
 My value, sir ! may be but small ; 
 
 But think what yours would be without it ! " 
 
 MORAL. 
 The writer who depends alone 
 
 On genius, hoping to be able 
 To cope with scholars fully grown, 
 
 May profit by this simple fable. 
 
 As from the /Steel no fire comes forth, 
 Until it feels the Flint s abrasion ; 
 
 So genius is of little worth 
 
 V\ 7 ithout the aid of cultivation. 
 
THE LACE-WEAVERS. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 ONCE in Madrid the story goes 
 Between two artisans arose 
 A question of such special weight, 
 It held them long in grave debate, 
 Though each t is only fair to say 
 Discussed it in a candid way, 
 Unlike debaters who, in sooth, 
 Care more for victory than truth. 
 
 Both men were weavers, we are told : 
 One made galloons, or lace-of-gold ; 
 The other lace-of-linen, fine 
 At once in texture and design. 
 " Who," said the former, " would suppose 
 That while (as everybody knows) 
 
THE LACE-WEAVERS. 193 
 
 My lace of purest gold is wrought, 
 For vastly less it may be bought 
 Than yours, my neighbor, which, instead 
 Of gold, is made of flaxen thread ? 
 Pray tell me why (7 can t divine) 
 Yours sells for thrice as much as mine 1 " 
 " Faith ! " said the other, " to my mind, 
 The reason is not hard to find ; 
 You work in gold, and I in thread ; 
 If, saying so, the whole were said, 
 Your lace would surely far exceed 
 My lace in value. T is agreed ! 
 You work in gold ; I grant it, still 
 Your best galloons show little skill 
 Compared with what the eye may trace 
 In my fine webs of linen lace ; 
 Rich workmanship, my worthy friend, 
 Gives value gold can never lend ! " 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Hence critics, who are fain to smile 
 When readers praise an author s style, 
 As if the matter were the test 
 Of what in authorship is best, 
 
THE LACE-WEAVERS. 
 
 May learn how much the writer s art, 
 By style and finish may impart 
 To works which else had failed to claim 
 The worth that gives undying fame ! 
 
THE SHAM LIBRARY. 
 
 TBIABTE. 
 
 ONCE, in Madrid, there dwelt a worthy man, 
 And wealthy too, of whom t was truly said 
 
 His house the best the architects could plan 
 "Was vastly better furnished than his head ! 
 
 And yet one room this splendid dwelling lacked 
 A wealthy squire should have, beyond a doubt ; 
 
 To wit, a Library, a thing in fact 
 
 " No gentleman can fairly live without." 
 
 So said a neighbor, adding his advice 
 
 That one be built without the least delay ; 
 
 "And let," he said, "the room be large and nice ; 
 By Jove ! I woiild n t wait another day ! " 
 
196 THE SHAM LIBRARY. 
 
 " Egad ! " he answered, " I must find a spot 
 Somewhere about the house ; of course I know 
 
 A man wants books, and books, sir, shall be got ; 
 If not for use, they re requisite for show ! 
 
 " I have it now ! my carpenter shall use 
 
 What space he chooses in the northern wing; 
 
 One sees from there the loveliest of views ; 
 Faith ! on reflection, it is just the thing ! 
 
 " I 11 have it finished in the finest style ; 
 
 Such as may suit a gentleman s abode ; 
 With doors and shelves ( t will cost a pretty pile !) 
 
 All stained and gilded in the latest mode. 
 
 " And then I 11 send my trusty servant Bob 
 (An honest fellow and the best of cooks, 
 
 And always clever at a tasty job), 
 
 By careful measurement, to buy the books." 
 
 But ere the work was done, from floor to shelf, 
 The owner, pondering on the great expense 
 
 Incurred already, said within himself, 
 
 " This room, egad ! is really quite immense ! 
 
THE SHAM LIBRAE Y. 197 
 
 " With handsome books these cases to supply 
 Will cost a sum of money rather tall ! 
 
 But since I merely aim to please the eye, 
 Pray, what s the use of real books at all 1 
 
 "A thousand gilded backs will do as well, 
 Lettered to look like volumes all a-row ; 
 
 Mere wooden backs in fact, but who can tell 
 They are not real, I should like to know ! " 
 
 So said, so done ; and now at length behold 
 
 All things complete. With pride the owner looks 
 
 To see at little cost of precious gold 
 
 His wooden cases filled with wooden books ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 " A fool ! " you say, " to spend his money so ! " 
 
 Well not a very Solomon, indeed ; 
 But wiser, sure, than they who buy for show 
 
 The costly volumes which they never read ! 
 
THE GOAT AND THE HORSE. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 A GOAT who lent a ravished ear 
 
 A Fiddle s harmony to hear, 
 
 The while unconsciously his feet 
 
 The viol s measures gayly beat, 
 
 Unto a Horse, who near him stood, 
 
 So rapt he quite forgot his food 
 
 In the sweet music of the hour, 
 
 (Such was the player s wondrous power !) 
 
 Thus, when the witching strains were done, 
 
 A boastful monologue begun : 
 
 "My honest neighbor, do you know 
 
 Whence came the sounds that charmed us so 1 
 
 The viol which so sweetly sings 
 
 Owes all its music to the Strings ; 
 
THE GOAT AND THE HORSE. 199 
 
 And those same strings be pleased to note 
 
 Came from the bowels of a Goat ! 
 
 (A mate of mine you may have seen 
 
 With me upon the village green ; 
 
 Where, side by side, we used to play 
 
 Through many a pleasant summer s day.) 
 
 And who can tell, my worthy friend, 
 
 But /, some happy day, may lend 
 
 The like assistance to the art 
 
 Which has such power to charm the heart 1 " 
 
 " True ! " said the Nag; "but not alone 
 
 Are strings required to give the tone 
 
 The viol boasts ; pray, do not I 
 
 From my long tail the hairs supply 
 
 With which the Bow so deftly brings 
 
 The music from the stupid strings? 
 
 The cost to me is surely small 
 
 (A little fright, no pain at all). 
 
 Then, for the pleasure that I give 
 
 I have my payment while I live 
 
 In conscious pride ; while you, instead, 
 
 Must wait for yours till you are dead ! " 
 
200 THE GOAT AND THE HORSE. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Some authors thus, who vainly strive 
 For fame while they are yet alive, 
 Write on, in hope that after death 
 Their works may win applauding breath 
 
THE TURKEY AND THE CROW. 
 
 TRIAKTE. 
 
 A POMPOUS old Turkey, conceited and vain, 
 As deeming himself of a lordlier breed 
 
 Than the wandering birds of the forest and plain, 
 Once challenged a Crow to a trial of speed. 
 
 If you e er saw a Crow as he sailed through the sky, 
 And noticed how lightly and swiftly he went, 
 
 Compared with a Turkey attempting to fly, 
 
 Of this notable match you will guess the event. 
 
 " I say ! " screamed the Gobbler, as falling behind 
 He saw his antagonist certain to win, 
 
 " Look here ! did it ever occur to your mind 
 You re as black as the deuce and as ugly as sin 1 
 
202 THE TURKEY AND THE CROW. 
 
 " Moreover," he cries, " I have frequently heard 
 You re the odious tool of the treacherous Fates ; 
 
 A wicked, uncanny, Plutonian bird ; 
 
 A monster of evil whom every one hates ! 
 
 "Away with yourself! it is loathsome to see 
 A fowl who on carrion feeds with delight ; 
 
 From birds who are decent no wonder you flee ; 
 The faster, the better ! quick ! out of my sight ! " 
 
 The match being over, the winner replied : 
 
 " You spoke of my color, that is n t the thing ; 
 
 The question, I think, which we met to decide 
 Was which of the two is the fleeter of wing." 
 
 MORAL. 
 Some critics, aware they are likely to fail 
 
 In argument, follow a similar plan ; 
 The works of the author t were vain to assail, 
 
 And so they endeavor to injure the man ! 
 
THE BEE AND THE CUCKOO, 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 A BEE, whose dainty ear had grown 
 Quite weary of the monotone 
 Which ever from the Cuckoo s throat 
 Repeated one unvarying note, 
 At last besought the tiresome bird, 
 For mercy s sake, to change the word ; 
 " T is Cuckoo ! Cuckoo I all day long ! 
 Pray, cease your egotistic song : 
 It makes me nervous, sooth to say, 
 And quite unfits to work or play ! " 
 "You call my song monotonous? 
 Well, since you choose to make a fuss 
 About my singing, tell me why 
 (Exclaimed the Cuckoo, in reply) 
 
204 THE BEE AND THE CUCKOO. 
 
 Your honey-cells you always frame 
 
 Alike, in size and shape the same 1 
 
 If / ra monotonous, confess 
 
 The fault you find is yours no less ! " 
 
 " Nay ! " said the Bee, " a thing of use 
 
 Has in its worth a fair excuse 
 
 For many a fault that else would be 
 
 A hateful thing to hear or see ; 
 
 While arts designed to please the taste 
 
 With varied beauties must be graced; 
 
 And, lacking these, they serve alone 
 
 To pain us, like your Cuckoo tone ! " 
 
THE SILKWORM AND THE CATERPILLAR. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 ONCE on a time if tales are true 
 
 Among the animals a movement 
 Was smarted by the foremost few 
 
 To aid their mutual improvement j 
 
 A scheme was planned whate er the name 
 To mend their physical condition ; 
 
 And in its nature much the same 
 As our " Industrial Exposition." 
 
 To this the tribes of every sort 
 
 And element fur, fin, and feather 
 
 In friendly rivalry resort, 
 
 And their inventions bring together. 
 
206 THE SILKWORM AND CATERPILLAR. 
 
 Among a hundred useful things, 
 
 And many more designed for winning 
 
 ^Esthetic praise, the Silkivorm brings 
 
 A knot of thread of home-made spinning ; 
 
 A silk cocoon ! how soft and bright ! 
 
 All eyes are glistening with pleasure ; 
 How charming to the touch and sight ! 
 
 And then, for fabrics, what a treasure ! 
 
 The very Mole is not so blind 
 
 But she can see the thing is pretty ; 
 
 And " Premium First " declares the mind 
 Of the unanimous " Committee ! " 
 
 At last a croaking voice is heard ; 
 
 The Caterpillar s, in dissension ; 
 " Cocoons ! a trifle on my word ! 
 
 And then they re not a new invention ! " 
 
 The beasts, amazed, with one accord 
 
 Cried, " Who is this, whose pert decision 
 
 Would overrule our grave award, 
 
 And treat our judgment with derision ! " 
 
THE SILKWORM AND CATERPILLAR. 207 
 
 " I see ! " said Reynard (cunning elf!) 
 
 " T is Mr. Caterpillar, surely ! 
 The fellow makes cocoons himself, 
 
 And thinks all others spin as poorly ! " 
 
 MORAL. 
 When critics (would-be authors once) 
 
 "Would rob true Genius of her glory, 
 One sees in each detracting dunce 
 
 The Caterpillar of my story ! 
 
THE MONKEY-SHOWMAN. 
 
 YBIARTE. 
 
 A MONKEY who, by many a prank, 
 Had served a strolling mountebank, 
 And long had sought, with curious eye, 
 The secret of his arts to spy, 
 Grew so inflated with conceit, 
 He swore that there was not a feat 
 His master did, to charm the crowd, 
 But he could do, were he allowed 
 To show his skill. So, on a day 
 When Mister Showman was away, 
 And Jocko chanced to stay at home, 
 He summoned all his friends to come 
 And note how surely he would raise 
 The customary shouts of praise. 
 
THE MONKEY-SHOWMAN. 209 
 
 He made his bow, and straight began 
 To play the " India-Rubber man," 
 Who in contorted shapes appears, 
 And stands at last upon his ears ! 
 Next, dances on the swinging wire ; 
 Then, as applauding shouts inspire 
 To bolder deeds, he mounts with ease 
 And safely braves the high trapeze ; 
 Then takes a musket, and with skill 
 Performs the Prussian soldier s drill ; 
 At last as was his master s w r ay, 
 To close the wonders of the day 
 He brings the " Magic Lantern " out, 
 Darkens the room, and talks about 
 The curious things that on the screen 
 By watchful eyes will now be seen ; 
 Then moves the plates of painted glass 
 From side to side, and as they pass, 
 Announces in a pompous speech 
 The name and character of each 
 Delightful scene that greets their eyes ! 
 
 What can it mean 1 no cheers arise ! 
 A storm of hisses come instead, 
 So fierce the frightened monkey fled, 
 
210 THE MONKEY-SHOWMAN. 
 
 And, having reached a safer place, 
 Was told the cause of his disgrace ; 
 To wit, that, while all else was right, 
 His " Magic Lantern " had no light ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 How bootless are the author s pains 
 Who lacks illuminating brains ! 
 
THE OIL-MERCHANT S ASS. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 AN Ass, whose customary toil 
 
 Was bearing heavy sacks of oil 
 
 (The kind which often serves, at night, 
 
 Our houses, shops, and streets to light), 
 
 His labor over for the day, 
 
 Straight to his stable took his way ; 
 
 But, as he sought to enter there, 
 
 The groping donkey, unaware, 
 
 Against the door-hasp hit his nose ; 
 
 Whereat his indignation rose 
 
 To such a pitch, he roundly swore, 
 
 (As many an ass has done before !) 
 
 And thus, in wrath, expressed his mind : 
 
 " By Jove ! one might as well be blind, 
 
212 THE OIL-MERCHANT S ASS. 
 
 As break his noddle in the dark 
 For want of light ! A single spark 
 Had saved my skin ; but not a ray 
 My master gives to light my way. 
 I, who for others daily toil, 
 And fill a thousand lamps with oil, 
 For lack of one so justice goes ! 
 Against the door must break my nose ! " 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 The miser, who, to gather pelf 
 For thankless heirs, defrauds himself; 
 The ignoramus, proud to show 
 His gilded volumes all a-row, 
 Such men as these may we not class 
 (Poor donkeys !) with the Oilman s Ass 1 
 
THE MONKEY-TOURIST. 
 
 YRIARTE. 
 
 A MONKEY clad in cloth-of-gold 
 (So in the proverb we are told) 
 Will be a Monkey still. The aim 
 Of this new fable is the same ; 
 Pray, listen while I tell in rhyme 
 The tale how, once upon a time, 
 A Monkey, drest in garments bright, 
 With gaudy colors such as might 
 Become a Harlequin, set out 
 To show her finery, no doubt 
 Upon her travels. In what way, 
 By ship or coach, I cannot say ; 
 T is only known her journey ran 
 As far abroad as Tetuan : 
 
214 THE MONKEY-TOURIST. 
 
 A country as I understand 
 
 On maps set down as " Monkey-land " ; 
 
 And widely famous as the place 
 
 Where most abound the simian race, 
 
 And where, one scarcely needs to add, 
 
 The chattering tribes are simply clad 
 
 In their own skins, and know no more 
 
 Of dress than Mother Eve, before 
 
 She ate of the forbidden fruit, 
 
 And donned, for shame, her fig-leaf suit. 
 
 Here as the reader may suppose 
 Our lady-tourist proudly shows, 
 With many a change, her gay attire, 
 Which all the natives much admire ; 
 And think the wearer must possess 
 A mind as brilliant as her dress, 
 And, thereupon, the stranger made 
 Their leader in a coming raid 
 For forage, in the country round, 
 Where monkey -pro vender was found. 
 
 Alas, the day ! her clothing proved 
 An obstacle where er she moved ; 
 And when the weary day was done, 
 Her gaudy garments, every one, 
 
THE MONKEY-TOURIST. 215 
 
 That in the morning looked so fine, 
 
 Were strewn in rags along the line 
 
 Through which the expedition led ; 
 
 And she, worn out and nearly dead, 
 
 At night was but the scoff and scorn 
 
 Of those who hailed her " queen " at morn ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 A thousand instances confess 
 That judging people by their dress, 
 As bright or brave, is a mistake 
 That men as well as monkeys make ! 
 
TRANSLATIONS AND PARAPHRASES. 
 
THE ORIGIN OF LOVE. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO. 
 I. 
 
 WHEN Beauty was born, a magnificent fete 
 Was ordered to crown the auspicious event ; 
 
 And to all the Olympians, little and great, 
 And many besides, invitations were sent. 
 
 ii. 
 In the various throng who attended the rout, 
 
 Was Plenty (of Prudence the favorite son), 
 A rosy-cheeked god, who went strolling about 
 
 In the garden of Jove, when the banquet was done. 
 
 in. 
 
 Here, falling asleep at the close of the day, 
 Miss Poverty saw him, a mendicant maid, 
 
220 TPIE ORIGIN OF LOVE. 
 
 Who chanced at the time to be passing that way, 
 And entered the garden to follow her trade. 
 
 IV. 
 
 How the damsel, at sight, fell in love with the youth, 
 It is easy to guess ; though I never could learn, 
 
 As touching another more wonderful truth, 
 How she managed to waken his love in return. 
 
 v. 
 
 But so it befell ; and the marriage came off 
 In a manner not quite the conventional thing ; 
 
 And Virtue will scold, and Propriety scoff 
 When couples forget the connubial ring. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The union occasioned no little surprise ; 
 
 And gossip, of course, was exceedingly free 
 With merry remark and sarcastic surmise 
 
 As to " what in creation the offspring would be." 
 
 VII. 
 
 But Time, the Expositor, settled the doubt 
 To the perfect content of the people above ; 
 
THE ORIGIN OF LOVE. 221 
 
 One sunshiny morning the secret was out ; 
 
 The baby was born, and who was it but Love I 
 
 VIII. 
 
 As the urchin grew up, it was plain to be seen 
 He shared all the traits both of mother and sire : 
 
 A singular mixture of noble and mean ; 
 A deal to regret, with as much to admire. 
 
 IX. 
 
 As the grandson of Prudence, the younker displayed 
 A turn for intrigue and a masterful mind ; 
 
 While, as Poverty s son, he as clearly betrayed 
 A nature to fawning and begging inclined. 
 
 By his sire he is courtly, voluptuous, proud ; 
 
 Abundant in hope and ambitious in aim. 
 By his mother, submissive and easily cowed ; 
 
 Suspicious, mendicious, and fearful of blame. 
 
THE TRAVELLER AND THE STATUE. 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 FROM THE GREEK OF POSIDIPPUS. 
 SCENE. 
 
 A MARKET-PLACE in Athens, where are seen 
 
 Statues of gods and goddesses, serene 
 
 In marble majesty. Among the rest, 
 
 A group wherein the sculptor has exprest 
 
 Some tale, or moral homily, where these 
 
 Symbolic shapes in stone the observer sees : 
 
 A human figure resting on a wheel ; 
 
 With winged feet ; while flowing locks conceal 
 
 The eyes ; and yet (to make the gazer stare !) 
 
 The head, behind, shows not a tuft of hair ! 
 
 Hard by, observe, another figure stands, 
 
 A maid, who seems to weep and wring her hands. 
 
 Enter a Traveller who, gazing, seeks 
 
 The Statue s meaning. Thus, at length, he speaks : 
 
THE TEAVELLER AND THE STATUE. 223 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 Tell me, Image ! by what sculptor s grace 
 Of wondrous art thou standest in this place 1 
 
 STATUE. 
 
 Of Phidias thou hast heard ; whose magic hand 
 Can re-create the gods. See ! where they stand, 
 Jove, Juno, and Minerva ! He alone 
 Could place me here a homily in stone 
 Among the immortals. Yet no god am I, 
 Although I claim close kindred with the sky ; 
 My name, I hear, through all the world has flown ; 
 As Opportunity to mortals I am known. 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 Tell me, Image ! what the wheel may mean, 
 On which, as a support, thou seemest to lean. 
 
 STATUE. 
 
 The wheel thou seest, if thou dost rightly read 
 The pregnant sign, denotes my rapid speed. 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 And on thy feet a pair of wings are wrought ; 
 Tell me of these the cunning sculptor s thought. 
 
224 THE TRAVELLER AND THE STATUE. 
 
 STATUE. 
 
 From those my brief abiding thou may st learn ; 
 Neglected once, I nevermore return. 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 And why those flowing locks that hide thine eyes 1 
 
 STATUE. 
 Because I m seldom seen save in disguise. 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 But why no hair behind 1 tell me, I pray ! 
 
 STATUE. 
 That none may seize me as I flee away ! 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 And who is she behind, so sad of mien ? 
 
 STATUE. 
 
 Repentance is her name ; still is she seen 
 To follow him, the wretch, who weakly fails 
 To seize me when the timely hour avails 
 For noble action. Thus she serves to teach, 
 " Be swift to seize the good within thy reach, 
 Lest it be lost forever ! " Ask no more ! 
 E en while I speak, away away I soar ! 
 
THE KING S GOBLET. 
 
 PARAPHRASED FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. 
 I. 
 
 " Ho ! every gallant knight and squire ; 
 
 Attend ! " exclaimed the king ; 
 " This Golden Goblet shall be his, 
 
 Who from this rock will spring, 
 And from the dark abyss below 
 
 The cup to me will bring ! " 
 
 ii. 
 
 And at the word, from where he stood 
 
 Upon the rocky steep, 
 He cast the Golden Goblet down 
 
 Beneath the ocean deep ; 
 Far down into the black abyss 
 
 Where roaring eddies sweep. 
 
 10* o 
 
226 THE KING S GOBLET. 
 
 III. 
 
 And thrice the king to all his men 
 
 The proclamation made ; 
 But all were mute : nor knight nor squire 
 
 The fearful feat essayed ; 
 To follow where the cup went down, 
 
 The boldest were afraid. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Now while in silence round the king 
 
 They stood in grim array, 
 Up came a page of handsome mien, 
 
 A gallant youth and gay ; 
 And straight he took his girdle off, 
 
 And cast his cloak away. 
 
 v. 
 
 And while they praised his form and face, 
 And marvelled what he meant, 
 
 Far out upon the dizzy cliff 
 The gallant stripling went ; 
 
 And there a long and steady gaze 
 Into the deep he sent. 
 
THE KING S GOBLET. 227 
 
 VI. 
 
 A whispered prayer, and down he leaps 
 
 From off the giddy height, 
 Into the foaming flood below, 
 
 Where all is black as night ! 
 (A hundred shouts went up to Heaven) 
 
 And he was lost to sight ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then spake the bravest knight of all 
 
 Who saw that fearful thing, 
 "If thus your Gracious Majesty 
 
 His jewelled crown should fling, 
 Pardie ! I would not seek it there, 
 
 To wear it as a king ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Alas ! that one so young and fair 
 
 Should find a watery grave ; 
 In vain were mortal succor now 
 
 The gallant boy to save ! " 
 But see ! an arm is gleaming forth 
 
 Above the foaming wave ! 
 
THE KING S GOBLET. 
 
 IX. 
 
 T is he ! see how his straining arms 
 
 Obey his will s command ; 
 One struggle more, the boy is saved ! 
 
 His foot is on the land ! 
 And now he bows before the king, 
 
 The goblet in his hand ! 
 
 x. 
 
 " Here, daughter ! fill the cup with wine ! " 
 
 The king exclaimed aloud ; 
 Whereat a damsel, young and fair, 
 
 In filial duty bowed ; 
 And soon returned the brimming cup, 
 
 Before the smiling crowd. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Long live your gracious Majesty ! " 
 
 He said, and drank the wine ; 
 " And may no mortal ever dare 
 
 A deed so dread as mine ; 
 Nor brave the monsters that I saw 
 
 Beneath the foamy brine ! 
 
THE KING S GOBLET. 229 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Ah, me ! to think of all I saw ; 
 
 It fills me now with dread ! 
 The horrid sharks and dragons huge 
 
 That in the sea are bred ; 
 And serpents vast that coil and crawl 
 
 Within their slimy bed. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " The goblet hung upon a crag 
 
 Far down as I could dive ; 
 I know not how I got me thence, 
 
 Though fiercely I did strive ; 
 But God is good, and heard my prayer, 
 
 And here I stand alive ! " 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " The cup is thine ! " the monarch said ; 
 
 " And thou hast earned it dear ; 
 But thou shalt have this costly ring, 
 
 (A diamond large and clear !) 
 To dive again, and further bring 
 
 What thou shalt see and hear ! " 
 
230 THE KING S GOBLET. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Nay, father ! " thus the maiden spoke, 
 
 " This cruel play forbear ; 
 And let some hardy knight of thine 
 
 The page s honor share ; 
 Already has the boy achieved 
 
 What not a man did dare ! " 
 
 XVI. 
 
 T was then the monarch seized the cup 
 
 And threw it in the sea ; 
 "Go ! fetch it up ! " he cried, " and thou 
 
 A knight of mine shall be ; 
 And this my daughter, weeping here, 
 
 I 11 make her wife to thee ! " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 One glance upon the beauteous maid ; 
 
 One look of inward pain \ 
 One supplicating prayer to Heaven, 
 
 And down he dives again, 
 To follow where the goblet fell, 
 
 Beneath the raging main ! 
 
THE KING S GOBLET. 231 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Long long they gaze with anxious looks ; 
 
 In vain their eyes explore 
 The dashing waves beneath the rock, 
 
 Where sullen breakers roar 
 Alack, alack, he comes not back ! 
 
 The boy is seen no more ! 
 
THE GOLDSMITH S DAUGHTER, 
 
 FKOM THE GERMAN OP UHLAND. 
 I. 
 
 UP spoke the Goldsmith proudly 
 
 Unto his daughter fair : 
 " Ah ! here are pearls and diamonds, 
 
 And rubies rich and rare ; 
 But none with thee, my Helen, 
 
 In beauty can compare ! " 
 
 ii. 
 In came a knight so gayly, 
 
 A youth of noble mien ; 
 With " I would have a garland, 
 
 The finest e er was seen : 
 Spare neither cost nor labor ; 
 
 T is for my bridal queen." 
 
THE GOLDSMITH S DAUGHTER. 233 
 
 in. 
 
 The work is done ; and Helen 
 
 Cried, " Lucky bride is she 
 Who wears this splendid garland ! 
 
 Ah ! would he give to me 
 A simple wreath of roses, 
 
 How happy I should be ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 " T is well," the knight made answer, 
 
 When he the wreath had seen ; 
 " Now make a ring with diamonds 
 
 And of the purest sheen : 
 Spare neither cost nor labor ; 
 
 T is for my bridal queen." 
 
 v. 
 
 The work is done ; and Helen 
 
 Cried, " Lucky bride is she 
 Who wears this blazing circlet ! 
 
 Ah ! would he give to me 
 One of his golden tresses, 
 
 How happy I should be ! " 
 
234 THE GOLDSMITH S DAUGHTER. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " T is well," the knight made answer ; 
 
 Then to the maid he cried, 
 " I fain would have these jewels 
 
 On thee, a moment, tried ; 
 That I may judge the surer 
 
 If they become my bride." 
 
 VII. 
 
 And soon her blushing forehead 
 Was with the garland graced ; 
 
 And then upon her finger 
 The knight, in loving haste, 
 
 The ring of gold and diamonds 
 In merry triumph placed. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 "Ah! Helen, dearest Helen !" 
 
 The happy lover cried ; 
 " For thee they were intended, 
 
 My darling and my pride ! 
 
 And by these jeweled tokens 
 
 
 I take thee for my bride ! " 
 
THE GOOD DOG OF BRETT&. 
 
 A GERMAN LEGEND. 
 I. 
 
 SHOULD you e er go to Brette, be sure you don t fail 
 
 To look at the dog on the old city gate ; 
 A poodle in marble, with never a tail 
 
 Save the piteous one which the people relate 
 Of a dog who was wont, in the cleverest way, 
 
 To carry a basket whereon you might find, 
 In capital letters as plain as the day, 
 
 This plaintive petition, " Remember the Blind ! " 
 
 ii. 
 And thus through the city he went, it is said, 
 
 Soliciting food that his owner might live ; 
 And never himself, till his master was fed, 
 
 Touched a morsel of aught that the people might give; 
 
236 THE GOOD DOG OF BRETTE. 
 
 Such a good little dog, of such talents possessed, 
 In Brette, be sure, had an excellent name ; 
 
 And every one hastened to honor his quest, 
 
 And treat him with kindness, wherever he came. 
 
 in. 
 But once, on a Friday ft is ever, they say, 
 
 A day when misfortune is aptest to fall), 
 As the dog went his round, in the usual way, 
 
 He came to a butcher who mocked at his call, 
 " What ! flesh on a fast day ! you heathenish cur ! 
 
 Egad ! you shall have it ! a pice bit of meat ! " 
 And, cutting his tail off, cried, "Off with you, sir ! 
 
 Take that, if you please, for your master to eat ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 He went to his home, and his basket set down ; 
 
 So stricken with grief, and so hurt in his pride, 
 That he never again showed his face in the town, 
 
 But, moaning in misery, sickened and died. 
 And all through the city the story was told 
 
 Of the beggar lamenting the loss of his mate ; 
 And all through the city the young and the old 
 
 Men, women, and children lamented his fate. 
 
THE GOOD DOG OF BRETTE. 237 
 
 V. 
 
 And now yon may see on the old city gate 
 
 His effigy standing in marble to-day ; 
 Whereof the good people to strangers relate 
 
 The piteous story I ve told in my lay ; 
 And the origin, hence, you will readily learn 
 
 Of the saying, repeated in country and city, 
 When kindness receives an ungrateful return, 
 
 " He fares the poor man ! like the poodle of 
 Brette ! " 
 
THIRTEEN AT TABLE. 
 
 STRANGER. 
 I. 
 
 I SPILT the salt, one day, and, worse, 
 " Thirteen at table ! Sure, some curse 
 Is in the omens ! Such the way 
 That Death gives warning, so they say." 
 Scarce had I spoken, when a sprite, 
 Young, handsome, joyous, met my sight ; 
 
 Whereat I cried, " Friends ! be of cheer ! 
 
 I ve looked on Death, and do not fear ! " 
 
 ii. 
 
 A gay, invited guest she seemed ; 
 With fairest flowers her forehead gleamed ; 
 A rainbow arched her head around ; 
 A broken chain was on the ground ; 
 
THIRTEEN AT TABLE. 239 
 
 And, sweetly nestling on her breast, 
 A sleeping baby lay at rest. 
 
 Fill up, my friends ! no danger s near ; 
 
 1 ve looked on Death, and do not fear ! 
 
 in. 
 
 " Why tremble ? " said the spirit, " why 1 
 Sister of Hope, Heaven s daughter I ! 
 From weary necks I lift the yoke ; 
 I touch the slave, his chain is broke ; 
 To man fallen angel I restore 
 The seraph wings he had of yore ! " 
 
 " maid ! " I cried, " thou rt welcome here ! 
 
 I ve looked on Death, and do not fear ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 " By me released from carnal thrall, 
 The soul, beyond this earthly ball, 
 Shall range in yonder azure clime, 
 In spacious fields and paths sublime ; 
 But here, oppressed by fleshly woes, 
 Ah ! little joy the spirit knows ! " 
 
 A bumper to that higher sphere ! 
 
 I ve looked on Death, and do not fear ! 
 
240 THIRTEEN AT TABLE. 
 
 V. 
 
 Alas ! although I bid her stay, 
 The lovely vision flies away ; 
 In vain we mortals wish to shun 
 The rest that waits our journey done ; 
 Life is a ship, mere sailors we ; 
 And tide and wind are fair and free. 
 
 Thirteen ! Who cares 1 God s smile is here ; 
 
 I ve looked on Death, and do not fear ! 
 
MY BALD HEAD. 
 
 (Mes cheveux.) 
 
 B^RANGER. 
 
 GOOD friends ! pray listen, if you please, 
 
 To Pleasure s licensed preacher ; 
 Hold fast to Liberty and Ease ; 
 
 So says your reverend teacher. 
 To laugh at Care, be gay and free, 
 
 The precepts I advise : 
 I m bald because I m sage, you see ; 
 
 So listen to the wise ! 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 Good friends ! when Care assails a man, 
 
 To vex his soul and body, 
 I think it much the wisest plan 
 
 To drown it in a toddy ! 
 
242 MY BALD HEAD. 
 
 Nay, not too much ! the glass should be 
 
 Of very dainty size : 
 I m bald because I m sage, you see ; 
 
 So listen to the wise ! 
 
 in. 
 Good friends ! these hints will stand the test, 
 
 And should n t be neglected ; 
 But what s the good of all the rest, 
 
 If Beauty is rejected 1 
 Young Love, true Love, must ever be 
 
 The richest earthly prize : 
 I m bald because I m sage, you see ; 
 
 So listen to the wise ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Good friends ! believe me, only so 
 
 We save Life s truest treasures ; 
 By just condensing, as they flow, 
 
 Youth s evanescent pleasures. 
 My sermon s done ; who lists to me 
 
 The power of Fate defies : 
 I m bald because I m sage, you see ; 
 
 So listen to the wise ! 
 
GIRLS! PASS ALONG! 
 
 (Passez, jeunes filles.) 
 
 BERANGER. 
 I. 
 
 BLESS me ! what a rosy row 
 
 Of girls at me their glances throw, 
 
 As they gayly come and go, 
 
 The light coquettish throng ! 
 Can t the darlings hear me say, 
 " I have had my youthful day ; 
 Now I put such things away " ] 
 
 Girls ! pass along ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Ah, my Zoe ! pray desist ! 
 Sooth, I care not to be kissed ; 
 Ask your mother if I list 
 To Cupid s siren song. 
 
244 GIRLS ! PASS ALONG ! 
 
 She but that is entre nous 
 Knows what Love and I can do ; 
 Her advice you d best pursue, 
 Girls ! pass along ! 
 
 in. 
 
 Laura ! you would hardly guess 
 How your grandam used to press 
 Lips of mine well I confess 
 
 We did n t think it wrong ; 
 Look ! she s coming ! Tempt me not 
 In gay saloon or shady grot ; 
 A jealous eye the dame has got, 
 
 Girls ! pass along ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 You smiling too ! you naughty Rose ! 
 
 I wonder now if you suppose 
 
 I m not aware what sort of beaux 
 
 Around your beauty throng 1 
 I know the husband-hunting crew, 
 And all the pretty tricks they do ; 
 I m old, but much too young for you ! 
 
 Girls ! pass along ! 
 
GIRLS ! PASS ALONG ! 245 
 
 V. 
 
 Away, away ! you madcaps ! fly ! 
 Your roguish arts why will you try 
 To bind a graybeard such as I 
 
 With Cupid s slender thong ] 
 Yet, like a powder magazine, 
 My heart from flying sparks I screen, 
 The sparks that shoot from wanton een 
 
 Girls ! pass along ! 
 
MUCH LOVE. 
 (" Beaucoup d? Amour") 
 
 B^RANGER. 
 
 I. 
 
 I KNOW by sages we are told 
 
 To reckon riches vile ; 
 I m not a sage, and so of gold 
 
 I d like a pretty pile. 
 It is not avarice ; no ! 
 For Sophie s sake I d have it so 
 0, t is, be sure, 
 Beaucoup d amour ; 
 Only love, much love I 
 
 ii. 
 
 And I would be a bard divine, 
 Her praises to prolong ; 
 
MUCH LOVE. 247 
 
 And link my Sophie s name with mine, 
 
 In never-dying song ; 
 Yet if I thus aspire to claim 
 The poet s laurel wreath of fame, 
 
 0, t is, be sure, 
 
 Beaucoup d amour ; 
 Only love, much love ! 
 
 in. 
 And I would be a sceptred king, 
 
 That Sophie might be seen 
 With all that royalty could bring 
 
 To grace my darling queen. 
 Ambition 1 No ; for her alone 
 I d wish to sit upon a throne : 
 0, t is, be sure, 
 Beaucoup & amour ; 
 Only love, much love ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet why, why, would I possess 
 
 These shining gifts of Fate 1 
 For love has more of happiness 
 
 Than fortune, fame, or state : 
 
248 MUCH LOVE. 
 
 So let them go ; I 11 not repine ; 
 
 The sweetest treasure still is mine : 
 0, t is, be sure, 
 Beaucoup d amour ; 
 
 Only love, much love ! 
 
THE PUPPETS. 
 
 STRANGER. 
 
 L 
 
 OUR life is but a puppet show ; 
 
 Men, mere mechanic factors ; 
 And rich and poor and high and low, 
 
 Involuntary actors. 
 Clowns, courtiers, statesmen, serfs, and kings, 
 
 The wicked and the pious, 
 We all are worked by secret springs, 
 
 And move as others ply us. 
 
 n. 
 And yet, vain man ! he deems his course 
 
 Is by himself decided ; 
 Because he cannot see the force 
 
 By which his mind is guided. 
 
250 THE PUPPETS. 
 
 But soon or later he will see 
 That like his wooden brothers 
 
 He s ever been, and still must be, 
 A puppet, ruled by others. 
 
 in. 
 Just mark the maid of seventeen, 
 
 When first the gentle dreamer, 
 Unconscious what the mood may mean, 
 
 Feels love s delicious tremor, 
 What secret power, unknown before, 
 
 Can thus so sweetly sway her 1 
 She s but a puppet, nothing more, 
 
 And Cupid is the player ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Observe yon alderman so grand, 
 
 How shrewdly and how neatly 
 His wife (the young coquette !) has planned 
 
 To rule the man completely ! 
 Perhaps a spark of jealous fire 
 
 Within the puppet lingers, 
 I only know the moving wire 
 
 Is held in madam s fingers ! 
 
THE TUPPETS. 251 
 
 V. 
 And so it is -with all mankind, 
 
 The womankind befool us ; 
 We re merely puppets, deaf and blind, 
 
 And hers the art to rule us ; 
 We laugh and cry and work and play 
 
 According to her fancies ; 
 Whate er the lady s whim may say, 
 
 Just so the puppet dances ! 
 
THE PRIDE OF BEAUTY. 
 
 BERANGER. 
 
 A GALLANT youth, whose lady-love possessed 
 The rarest charms to fire the manly breast, 
 Was so enamored of the beauteous maid, 
 That to the Powers above below he prayed, 
 Eight fervently, to make her beauty less ; 
 Nay, turn it, if they would, to ugliness ; 
 That so it might be shown his constant flame, 
 Despite the change, would glow for her the same. 
 
 This strange request no sooner Satan heard, 
 Than, quick as thought, he took him at his word, 
 And, by such arts as only Satan knows, 
 The deed was done ! away her beauty goes ! 
 And now before her mirror see her stand, 
 No more " the fairest lady in the land," 
 
THE PRIDE OF BEAUTY. 253 
 
 But such a Hecate, such a very fright, 
 
 She shrieked aloud, and shuddered at the sight. 
 
 And Satan laughed ! But still the lover swore 
 
 In very sooth he loved her as before ! 
 
 " faithful soul ! " she said ; but little less 
 
 The woman mourned her vanished loveliness. 
 
 " My beauty gone ! " the weeping damsel cried ; 
 
 " To come to this ! Ah, would that I had died ! " 
 
 In short, she wept at such a frantic rate, 
 The very Fiend took pity on her fate, 
 And soon was fain her beauty to restore. 
 And now behold her at her glass once more, 
 Handsome as Helen when, with radiant charms, 
 She summoned Paris to her waiting arms : 
 More beautiful, indeed, than in the hour 
 She knew the demon s disenchanting power; 
 For, while the Fiend called back her former face, 
 He slyly added many a winning grace. 
 "And now," she said, "I m sure you love me more, 
 Ay, twice as much as e er you did before." 
 " Nay," said the lover, " as I loved no less 
 When once I saw your beauty in distress, 
 No more, my sweet, this added grace may claim 
 Than my whole heart, I love you but the same ! 
 
254 THE PRIDE OF BEAUTY. 
 
 " Adieu ! " she said ; " to me J t is very clear 
 Heaven sends us beauty but to make us dear ; 
 And well I see my love were thrown away 
 On one so dull that he can coolly say, 
 * Who cares not I ! how beautiful you be "? 
 Handsome or homely, all is one to me ! " 
 
LITTLE PETER THE PORTER. 
 
 DE PERTHES. 
 
 0, I AM Little Peter, 
 
 Of faubourg La Pucelle ; 
 A carrier of water, 
 
 And messenger, as well ; 
 To gain an honest living 
 
 I ve got a clever head ; 
 I seldom fill my pocket, 
 
 But then I get my bread ! 
 
 I have no land nor servants ; 
 
 All equipage I lack ; 
 These legs, they are my horses ; 
 
 My funds are on my back. 
 I take the good that s going, 
 
 Quite certain to be fed ; 
 
256 LITTLE PETER THE PORTER. 
 
 God wills us all a living, 
 And so I get my bread ! 
 
 Before some stately building 
 
 I place my little stand 
 No Swiss you need to parley, 
 
 The master is at hand. 
 Up early in the morning, 
 
 And late at night to bed, 
 I call the day a good one 
 
 In which I get my bread ! 
 
 There goes a man of millions, 
 
 But what is that to me ] 
 Who knows but Little Peter 
 
 Is happier than he 1 
 The rich man has his troubles, 
 
 I often hear it said ; 
 He can but eat his mutton, 
 
 And I I get my bread ! 
 
 I ve heard my worthy uncle, 
 Before his sad decease, 
 
 Declare no man is wretched 
 Whose stomach is at peace ; 
 
LITTLE PETER THE PORTER. 257 
 
 And should these fine days vanish, 
 
 And dark ones come instead, 
 The neighbors love poor Peter, 
 
 And I shall get my bread ! 
 
THE HEN AND THE HONEY-BEE 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OP GELLET. 
 
 A LAZY Hen, the story goes, 
 Loquacious, pert, and self-conceited, 
 
 Espied a Bee upon a rose, 
 
 And thus the busy insect greeted : 
 
 " Say, \vhat s the use of such as you, 
 (Excuse the freedom of a neighbor !) 
 
 Who gad about, and never do 
 A single act of useful labor 1 
 
 " I Ve marked you well for many a day, 
 In garden blooms and meadow-clover ; 
 
 Now here, now there, in wanton play ; 
 From morn to night an idle rover. 
 
THE HEN AND THE HONEY-BEE. 259 
 
 " While I discreetly bide at home, 
 A faithful wife, the best of mothers, 
 
 About the fields you idly roam, 
 
 Without the least regard for others. 
 
 " While I lay eggs, or hatch them out, 
 You seek the flowers most sweet and fragrant, 
 
 And, sipping honey, stroll about, 
 
 At best a good-for-nothing vagrant ! " 
 
 "Nay," said the Bee, "you do me wrong; 
 
 I m useful too ; perhaps you doubt it, 
 Because though toiling all day long 
 
 I scorn to make a fuss about it ! 
 
 " While you, with every egg that cheers 
 Your daily task, must stop and hammer 
 
 The news in other people s ears, 
 
 Till they are deafened with the clamor : 
 
 "Come now with me, and see my hive, 
 And note how folks may work in quiet ; 
 
 To useful arts much more alive 
 
 Than you with all your cackling riot ! " 
 
260 THE HEN AND THE HONEY-BEE. 
 
 L ENVOI. 
 The Poet, one may plainly see 
 
 Who reads this fable at his leisure, 
 Is represented by the Bee, 
 
 Who joins utility to pleasure ; 
 While in this self-conceited Hen 
 
 We note the Poet s silly neighbor, 
 Who thinks the noisy " working-men " 
 
 Are doing all the useful labor ! 
 
EPIGRAMS. 
 
 FROM THE LATIN OF MARTIAL. 
 
 MAIDEN MANNERS. 
 (AD FLACCFM.) 
 
 " WHICH like you best," my friend inquires, 
 
 " A maid extremely bold or shy 1 " 
 No man of sense, I think, admires 
 
 A leering or a lowering eye. 
 For me, the juste milieu I seek ; 
 
 I fain would leave alone 
 The girl who rudely slaps my cheek 
 
 Or volunteers her own ! 
 
 IN FAVOR OF MAKING NEW FRIENDS. 
 
 (AD FUSCTJM.) 
 
 You, worthy man, whose noble life commends 
 Your generous heart and gives you many friends, 
 
2G2 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 If in your breast a place there yet may be 
 
 For one friend more, 0, give that place to me ! 
 
 Reject me not because I am not proved ; 
 
 Till they were known, not one of all was loved ; 
 
 New as I am, the trial fairly past, 
 
 I 11 prove, perhaps, "a good old friend," at last ! 
 
 ON A NIGGARDLY FELLOW. 
 (AD CJSCILANUM.) 
 
 A wealthy old fellow whose table was bare 
 
 Of meats that were less than a week or two old, 
 One day, when a friend was invited to share 
 
 A remnant of mutton both scraggy and cold, 
 Inquired of his guest how to manage his ice, 
 
 And where should he keep it 1 " Why, keep it, by 
 
 Jove ! " 
 Retorted the friend, " since you ask my advice, 
 
 Keep your ice in your kitchen shut up in your 
 stove ! " 
 
 ON A MISER. 
 (AD CINXAM.) 
 
 If it be true, as grave historians say, 
 That, just by sipping poison every day, 
 
EPIGRAMS. 263 
 
 King Mithridates grew at last to be 
 Quite poison-proof, t is plain enough to see 
 Your style of dining makes it mighty clear 
 Death by starvation you ve no cause to fear ! 
 
 ON A CRITIC. 
 (AD ATJCTUM.) 
 
 A brother scribbler calls my verses wrong 
 In point of art ; small merit he can see. 
 
 Well, since my readers like my simple song, 
 That, I am sure, is quite enough for me ; 
 
 The man who gives a public dinner looks 
 
 To please his guests, not other people s cooks ! 
 
 ON A QUIBBLING SUPPLICANT. 
 
 (DE MARONE.) 
 
 Marc s dear friend was sick, and like to take 
 
 A trip, untimely, o er the Stygian lake ; 
 
 So Maro vowed, if Heaven would kindly spare 
 
 His crony s life, in answer to his prayer, 
 
 He d build a church, to show his gratitude. 
 
 The friend gets well. Quoth Maro, " I conclude, 
 
264 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 Since prayers alone so perfectly succeed, 
 Of building churches there is little need ! " 
 
 ON A COXCOMB. 
 
 (IN EFFRONTEM.) 
 
 Your nose and eyes your father gave, you say ; 
 
 Your mouth, your grandsire ; and your mother meek, 
 Your fine expression. Tell me, now, I pray, 
 
 Where, in the name of Heaven, you got your cheek ! 
 
 ON A QUACK DOCTOR. 
 
 (IN MALUM MEDICUM.) 
 
 Phlebotamus, a quack before, 
 
 Seeks now a soldier s fame ; 
 A change of title, nothing more, 
 
 His trade is still the same ! 
 
 ON A LITIGIOUS MAN. 
 
 (IN GAIIGLIANUM.) 
 
 What ! twenty years at law, my friend ! 
 
 Why did n t you contrive 
 To save your skin and make an end, 
 
 By getting beat in five 1 
 
EPIGRAMS. 265 
 
 TO A BORROWING FRIEND. 
 
 (AD FAUSTINUM.) 
 
 You say you re sorry that you cannot pay 
 " That little loan " you promised me to-day ; 
 I can t dispute you, since, in very sooth, 
 What you aver may be the simple truth ; 
 Sorry or not, my friend, I much incline 
 To think your grief not half so deep as mine ! 
 
 ON A SUICIDE. 
 (DE FANNIO.) 
 
 Poor Fannius, who greatly feared to die, 
 Embraced the enemy he fain would fly. 
 Strange contradiction, weary of the strife, 
 He ceased to live from very love of life ; 
 With his own hand he stops his vital breath ; 
 Madness extreme ! to die for fear of death ! 
 
 ON CHEAP PURCHASING. 
 (DE BASSU.) 
 
 " See here ! " cries Bassus, in a brand-new coat, 
 Worth, at the least, a fifty-dollar note ; 
 
266 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 " I got it at a bargain. Please to guess 
 
 How much it cost. A hundred 1 Vastly less ! 
 
 There s not one man in twenty who can buy 
 
 A coat or hat one half so cheap as I." 
 
 " That s true," quoth Tom ; "his surely is the praise 
 
 Of buying mighty cheap who never pays ! " 
 
 ON A SPENDTHKIFT. 
 (AD PHILOMUSUM.) 
 
 To you, while yet he lived, your father lent 
 Two thousand pounds a month in folly spent ; 
 Though large the stipend, each succeeding day 
 Brought fresh demands to melt the sum away. 
 Now, all his wealth is yours without his care ; 
 You re disinherited by being heir ! 
 
 TO AN UGLY WOMAN WITH A SWEET VOICE. 
 (DE VETTJLA.) 
 
 When first I met thee in the dark alone 
 And heard entranced thy voice s dulcet tone, 
 My heart was pierced with love s delicious pain ; 
 But when I saw thee, I was well again ! 
 
EPIGKAMS. 267 
 
 THE TRUTHFUL PRETENDER. 
 (DE CINNA.) 
 
 Cinna, who lives in such a splendid style 
 That many deem him rich, still wears a smile 
 Of mock humility, which says, "Be sure, 
 Whatever folks may fancy, I am poor." 
 Ah ! vain pretence to cheat familiar friends, 
 Who know full well he is what he pretends ! 
 
 ON DINING WITH STRANGERS. 
 
 (AD FABULUM.) 
 
 You bid me dine with folks unknown, 
 
 And wonder I decline ; 
 Well, when I choose to dine alone, 
 
 I stay at home and dine ! 
 
 ON A RICH MAN S COUNTRY-SEAT. 
 
 (IX HABEXTEM AM-ENAS .EDES.) 
 
 Your parks are unsurpassed in noble trees ; 
 A finer bath than yours one seldom sees ; 
 Grand is your colonnade, and all complete 
 The stone mosaic underneath your feet ; 
 
2G8 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 Your steeds are fine ; your hunting-grounds are wide, 
 And gleaming fountains spout on every side ; 
 Your drawing-rooms are grand ; there s nothing cheap 
 Except the places where you eat and sleep ! 
 With all the space and splendor you have got, 
 0, what a charming mansion you have not ! 
 
 ON A POOR MAN OF EXTRAVAGANT HABITS. 
 
 (AD CASTOREM.) 
 
 Such lavish purchases, my giddy friend, 
 To thoughtful minds an auction-sale portend ; 
 It needs no prophet, surely, to foretell, 
 Who buys so much w r ill soon have all to sell ! 
 
NOTE. 
 
 [SEE PAGE 169.] 
 
 Of this and the following Fables credited to Yriarte, it is 
 proper to say that they are taken from French versions of 
 the works of the great Spanish Fabulist, and therefore make 
 no pretension of fidelity whether of matter or manner to 
 the original text. I take occasion of this note to add, con 
 cerning other pieces in this volume, that, though derived di 
 rectly from the Greek, Koman, German, and French originals, 
 they are, for the most part, as the scholarly reader will ob 
 serve, not so much translations as paraphrases, wherein I 
 have endeavored to preserve the spirit of the author, while 
 consulting the exigencies of an English poem in respect of 
 rhyme and rhythm and general manner of treatment. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Cambridge : Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 
 
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