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honour of parody is at least a proof of wide popularity, the only others marked in this way being Mr. Swinburne's Dreamland' and Mr. Lang's 'Primitive Man.' Here, too, in default of a better place, it may be noted that Mr. Henley's Villonism' is not an imitation of the incomprehensible ballades in 'Jargon' or 'Jobelin,' but a paraphrase in thieves' patter of to-day of Villon's Ballade of Good Counsel.

It may be that such a medley of themes handled in so many different ways, was never of set purpose grouped side by side before, but is to be hoped that a method in the madness will be found. While conscious of a few noteworthy examples, Rossetti's Translations from Villon to wit, being not included for reasons beyond my control, so it may be that one or two here inserted would have been replaced by later comers, had they not gone to the printer's eternity of stereotype. Started as a collection, but turned perforce to a selection, from the increasing number available, they yet do not aim so much at being a selection of the best work solely, as of the best and least-accessible examples. This explanation of the progress and purpose of the volume is offered in common fairness both to its readers and to those authors who have permitted their works to be included, also to those who by oversight or too late discovery on my part have no examples of their poetry included herein.

[Note to page xxxvi.-For Wyatt's Rondeaus, and alteration of the same into Sonnets by Tottel, in his Miscellany, 1557, see Mr. Austin Dobson's Note in the Athenæum, Mar. 23, 1878.1

The Ballade, The Double Ballade,

and The Chant Royal.

Ballade en hui'ains d' octosyllabes.

Chant de May.

En ce beau mois delicieux,
Arbres, fleurs et agriculture,
Qui, durant tyrer soncieux,
Avex esté en sepulture,

Sortez pour servir de pasture

Aux troupeaux du plus grand Pasteur:
Chacun de vous en sa nature,
Louez le nom de Createur.

Les servans d'amour furieux
Parlent de l'amour vaine et dur?,
Où vous, vrays amans curieux
Parlez de l'amour sans laidure.
Allez aux champs sur la verdure
Ouir l'oyscau, parfait chanteur:
Mais du plaisir, si peu qu'il dure
Louez le nom de Createur.

Quand vous verrez rire les Cieuz
Et la terre en sa floriture,
Quand vous verrez devant vos yeux
Les eaux lui bailler nourriture,
Sur peine de grand forfaiture
Et d'estre larron et menteur,
N' en louez nulle creature,
Louez le nom de Createur.

Envoy.

Prince, pensez, veu la facture,
Combien est puissant le facteur;
Et vous aussi, mon escriture,
Louez le nom de Createur.

-CLÉMENT MAROT.

WHERE ARE THE PIPES OF PAN?

In these prosaic days

Of politics and trade,

Where seldom fancy lays

Her touch on man or maid,
The sounds are fled that strayed
Along sweet streams that ran;
Of song the world's afraid;
Where are the Pipes of Pan?

Within the busy maze

Wherein our feet are stayed,
There roam no gleesome fays
Like those which once repaid
His sight who first essayed
The stream of song to span,
Those spirits are all laid.
Where are the Pipes of Pan?

Dry now the poet's bays;

Of song-robes disarrayed

He hears not now the praise

Which erst those won who played
On pipes of rushes made,

Before dull days began

And love of song decayed.

Where are the Pipes of Pan?

Envoy.

Prince, all our pleasures fade;
Vain all the toils of man;

And fancy cries dismayed,

Where are the Pipes of Pan?

OSCAR FAY ADAMS.