Puslapio vaizdai
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THE BARON.

Nay, 'twas a song of SAINTE-Aulaire.

THE COUNTESS.

Then read me one.

We've time to spare:

If I can catch the clock-face there,

'Tis barely eight.

THE BARON.

What shall it be,

A tale of woe, or perfidy?

THE COUNtess.

Not woes, I beg. I doubt your woes:
But perfidy, of course, one knows.

THE BARON (reads).

"Ah, Phillis! cruel Phillis!
(I heard a Shepherd say,)
You hold me with your Eyes, and yet
You bid me-Go my Way!'

"Ah, Colin! foolish Colin!
(The Maiden answered so,)
If that be All, the Ill is small,
I close them-You may go!'

THE BALLAD À-LA-MODE.

"But when her Eyes she opened,
(Although the Sun it shone,)

She found the Shepherd had not stirred-
'Because the Light was gone!'

"Ah, Cupid! wanton Cupid!
'Twas ever thus your Way:

When Maids would bid you ply your Wings,
You find Excuse to stay!"

THE COUNTESS.

Famous! He earned whate'er he got :-
But there's some sequel, is there not?

THE BARON (turning the page).

I think not.-No. Unless 'tis this:
My fate is far more hard than his ;-
In fact, your Eyes-

THE COUNTESS.

Now, that's a breach!

Your bond is-not to make a speech.
And we must start-so call JUSTINE.
I know exactly what you mean !—
Give me your arm-

53

THE BARON.

If, in return,

Countess, I could your hand but earn!

THE COUNTESS.

I thought as much. This comes, you see,
Of sentiment, and Arcady,

Where vows are hung on every tree. . .

THE BARON (offering his arm, with a low bow). And no one dreams-of PERFIDY.

THE METAMORPHOSIS.

55

THE METAMORPHOSIS.

"On s'enrichit quand on dort."

SCENE.-A high stone Seat in an Alley of clipped

Lime-trees.

THE ABBÉ TIRILI.

"T

MONSIEUR L'ÉTOILE.

THE ABBÉ (writing).

HIS shepherdess Dorine adored-"

What rhyme is next? Implored?—ignored?
Poured?-soared?-afford? That facile Dunce,
L'ÉTOILE, would cap the line at once.

"Twill come in time. Meanwhile, suppose

We take a meditative doze.

(Sleeps. By-and-by his paper falls.)

M. L'ÉTOILE (approaching from the back).
Some one before me. What! 'tis you,

Monsieur the Scholar? Sleeping too!

(Picks up the fluttering paper.)

More "Tales," of course. One can't refuse

To chase so fugitive a Muse!

Verses are public, too, that fly

"Cum privilegio”—Zephyri!

(Reads.)

"CLITANDER AND DORINE." Insane!

He fancies he's a LA FONTAINE !
"In early Days, the Gods, we find,
Paid casual Visits to Mankind ;—
At least, authentic Records say so
In Publius Ovidius Naso."

(Three names for one.

This passes all.

"Tis "furiously" classical !)

"No doubt their Purpose oft would be Some Nodus dignus Vindice';

'On dit,' not less, these earthly Tours Were mostly matters of Amours.

And woe to him whose luckless Flame

Impeded that Olympic Game; Ere he could say an 'Ave' o'er, They changed him-like a Louis-d'or." ("Aves," and current coinage! O!O shade of NICHOLAS BOILEAU !) "Bird, Beast, or River he became: With Women it was much the same. In Ovid Case to Case succeeds; But Names the Reader never reads." (That is, Monsieur the Abbé feels His quantities are out at heels!)

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