Turned King's evidence, sad to state ;-
But JOHN was never immaculate.

As for the BEAU, he was duly tried,

When his wound was healed, at Whitsuntide;

Served-for a day-as the last of "sights,”
To the world of St. James's-Street and "White's,"

Went on his way to TYBURN TREE,
With a pomp befitting his high degree.

Every privilege rank confers :

Bouquet of pinks at St. Sepulchre's ;

Flagon of ale at Holborn Bar;

Friends (in mourning) to follow his Car-
("t" is omitted where HEROES are!)

Every one knows the speech he made;
Swore that he "rather admired the Jade!"-

Waved to the crowd with his gold-laced hat;
Talked to the chaplain after that;

Turned to the Topsman undismayed. . . .
This was the finish of "BEAU BROCADE"!

And this is the Ballad that seemed to hide
In the leaves of a dusty "LONDONER'S GUIDE";

"Humbly Inscrib'd" (with curls and tails)
By the Author to FREDERICK, Prince of WALES:—

"Published by FRANCIS and OLIVER PINE; Ludgate-Hill, at the Blackmoor Sign. Seventeen-Hundred-and-Thirty-Nine."

PROVERBS IN PORCELAIN.

AUSTIN DOBSON,

“GOOD-NIGHT, BABETTE!"

"Si vieillesse pouvait !—"

SCENE.-A small neat Room. In a high Voltaire
Chair sits a white-haired old Gentleman.

MONSIEUR VIEUXBOIS.

BABETTE.

M. VIEUXBOIS (turning querulously).

AY of my life! Where can she get?

D BABETTE! I say! BABETTE BABETTE!

BABETTE (entering hurriedly).

Coming, M'sieu'! If M'sieu' speaks
So loud, he won't be well for weeks!

M. VIEUXBOIS.

Where have you been?

BABETTE.

Why M'sieu knows:

April!... Ville-d'Avray!. Ma'am'selle ROSE!

...

M. VIEUXBOIS.

Ah! I am old,—and I forget.

Was the place growing green, Babette?

ВАВЕТТЕ.

But of a greenness !—yes, M'sieu'!

And then the sky so blue !-so blue!

And when I dropped my immortelle,

How the birds sang!

(Lifting her apron to her eyes.)

This poor Ma'am'selle!

M. VIEUXBOIS.

You're a good girl, Babette, but she,—

She was an Angel, verily.

Sometimes I think I see her yet

Stand smiling by the cabinet;

And once, I know, she peeped and laughed

Betwixt the curtains.

Where's the draught?

(She gives him a cup.)

Now I shall sleep, I think, Babette ;—
Sing me your Norman chansonnette.

M. VIEUXBOIS (drowsily).

"She was an Angel" ... "Once she laughed "

...

What, was I dreaming?

Where's the draught!

BABETTE (showing the empty cup).

The draught, M'sieu' ?

410

M. VIEUXBOIS.

How I forget!

I am so old! But sing, BABETTE !

"I am so old!" ... "Good-night, Babette!'

VIGNETTES IN RHYME.

AUSTIN DOBSON.

THE IDYLL OF THE CARP.

(The SCENE is in a garden,-where you please,
So that it lie in France, and have withal
Its gray-stoned pond beneath the arching trees,
And Triton huge, with moss for coronal.
A PRINCESS,-feeding Fish. To her DENISE.)

I feed them daily here at morn and night

With crumbs of favour,-scraps of graciousness,
Not meant, indeed, to mean the thing they wish,
But serving just to edge an appetite.

[Throwing bread.]

Make haste, Messieurs! Make haste, then! Hurry. See,

See how they swim! Would you not say, confess, Some crowd of Courtiers in the audience hall, When the King comes?