[RONDEAU.]

IFE lapses by for you and me;
Our sweet days pass us by and flee;
And evermore death draws us nigh;
The blue fades fast out of our sky;

The ripple ceases from our sea.

What would we not give, you and I,
The early sweet of life to buy!

Alas! sweetheart, that cannot we :
Life lapses by.

But though our young years buried lie,
Shall Love with Spring and Summer die?
What if the roses faded be?

We in each other's eyes will see
New Springs, nor question how or why
Life lapses by:

JOHN PAYNE.

THE COQUETTE.

[RONDEAU.]

HIS pirate bold upon Love's sea
Will let no passing heart go free;
No barque by those bright eyes espied
May sail away o'er life's blue tide

Till all its treasure yielded be.

Her craft, the Conquest, waits for thee

Where her swift rapine none may see ;—
From shadowy coves on thee will glide
This pirate bold.

Yet thou, if thou her power wouldst flee,
Go, feign thyself love's refugee,

And crave sweet shelter; she'll deride
Thy piteous suit with scornful pride ;
And thou, thou shalt escape in glee

This pirate bold!

SAMUEL WADDINGTON.

CARPE DIEM.

[RONDEAU.]

DO-DAY, what is there in the air
That makes December seem sweet May?
There are no swallows anywhere,

Nor crocuses to crown your hair,

And hail you down my garden way.

Last night the full moon's frozen stare
Struck me, perhaps; or did you say
Really, you'd come, sweet friend and fair,
To-day?

To-day is here;-come, crown to-day

With Spring's delight or Spring's despair!
Love cannot bide old Time's delay-
Down my glad gardens light winds play,

And my whole life shall bloom and bear

To-day.

THEOPHILE MARZIALS.

m

[RONDEAU REDOUBLÉ.]

Y day and night are in my lady's hand;
I have no other sunrise than her sight;

For me her favour glorifies the land;
Her anger darkens all the cheerful light.

Her face is fairer than the hawthorn white, When all a-flower in May the hedgerows stand; Whilst she is kind, I know of no affright; My day and night are in my lady's hand.

All heaven in her glorious eyes is spanned; Her smile is softer than the Summer night, Gladder than daybreak on the Faery strand; I have no other sunrise than her sight.

Her silver speech is like the singing flight Of runnels rippling o'er the jewelled sand; Her kiss, a dream of delicate delight; For me, her favour glorifies the land.

What if the Winter chase the Summer bland! The gold sun in her hair burns ever bright. If she be sad, straightway all joy is banned; Her anger darkens all the cheerful light.

Come weal or woe, I am my lady's knight, And in her service every ill withstand;

Love is my Lord in all the world's despite, And holdeth in the hollow of his hand

My day and night.

JOHN PAYNE.