"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—

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

THE METAMORPHOSIS

On s'enrichit quand on dort."

SCENE. A high stone Seat in an Alley of clipped

Lime-trees.

THE ABBÉ TIRILI.

MONSIEUR L'ÉTOILE

THE ABBÉ (writing).

HIS shepherdess Dorine adored—

"THIS

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.

Monsieur the Scholar?

What! 'tis you,

Sleeping too!

(Picks up the fluttering paper.) One can't refuse

More "Tales," of course

To chase so fugitive a Muse!

Insane!

"CLITANDER AND DORINE."
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 earthward Tours
Were mainly 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 NICOLAS 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!)
"Suffices that, for this our Tale,
There dwelt in a Thessalian Vale,
Of Tales like this the frequent Scene,
A Shepherdess, by name Dorine.

Trim Waist, ripe Lips, bright Eyes, had she;
In short, the whole Artillery.

THE METAMORPHOSIS

Her Beauty made some local Stir ;-
Men marked it. So did Jupiter.

This Shepherdess Dorine adored.

Implored, ignored, and soared, and poured— (He's scrawled them here!)

His fable on his second leaf.

(Writes.)

We'll sum in brief

There, they shall know who 'twas that wrote:"L'ÉTOILE'S is but a mock-bird's note."

THE ABBÉ (waking).

[Exit.

Implored's the word, I think. But where,-
Where is my paper?

Ah! 'tis there!

Eh! what?

(Reads.)

THE METAMORPHOSIS
(not in Ovid).

"The Shepherdess Dorine adored
The Shepherd-Boy Clitander;
But Jove himself, Olympus' Lord,
The Shepherdess Dorine adored.
Our Abbe's Aid the Pair Implored;-
And changed to Goose and Gander;
The Shepherdess Dorine adored
The Shepherd-Boy Clitander!"

L'ÉTOILE,—by all the Muses!

Peste!

He's off, post-haste, to tell the rest.
No matter. Laugh, Sir Dunce, to-day;
Next time 'twill be my turn to play.