ACT THE THIRD.

Or so it proved. For while I still
Believed them gone for ever,
Half raised above the window sill,
I saw the lattice quiver;

And lo, once more appeared the head,

Flushed, while the round mouth pouted; "Give Tom a kiss," the red lips said, In style the most undoubted.

The girl came back without a thought;
Dear Muse of Mayfair, pardon,
If more restraint had not been taught
In this neglected garden;

For these your code was all too stiff,
So, seeing none dissented,
Their unfeigned faces met as if
Manners were not invented.

Then on the scene,-by happy fate,
When lip from lip had parted,
And, therefore, just two seconds late,-
A sharp-faced nurse-maid darted;
Swooped on the boy, as swoops a kite
Upon a rover chicken,

And bore him sourly off, despite
His well-directed kicking.

The girl stood silent, with a look
Too subtle to unravel,

Then, with a sudden gesture took

The torn doll from the gravel;

Hid the whole face, with one caress,
Under the garden-bonnet,
And, passing in, I saw her press
Kiss after kiss upon it.

Exeunt omnes. End of play.

It made the dull room brighter, The Gladiator almost gay,

And e'en "The Lancet" lighter.

AN AUTUMN IDYLL

"Srveet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.'

LAWRENCE.

-SPENSER.

FRANK.

JACK.

LAWRENCE.

HERE, where the beech-nuts drop among the

grasses,

Push the boat in, and throw the rope ashore. Jack, hand me out the claret and the glasses; We landed here before.

Here let us sit.

Jack's undecided.

FRANK.

Say, formose puer,

Bent in a dream above the "water wan," Shall we row higher, for the reeds are fewer,

There by the pollards, where you see the swan ?

JACK.

Hist! That's a pike. Look-nose against the river
Gaunt as a wolf,-the sly old privateer!
Enter a gudgeon. Snap,-a gulp, a shiver ;—
Exit the gudgeon. Let us anchor here.

FRANK (in the grass).

Jove, what a day! Black Care upon the crupper Nods at his post, and slumbers in the sun; Half of Theocritus, with a touch of Tupper, Churns in my head. The frenzy has begun!

Sing to us then.

LAWRENCE.

Damotas in a choker,

Much out of tune, will edify the rooks.

FRANK.

Sing you again.

So musical a croaker

Surely will draw the fish upon the hooks.

JACK.

Sing while you may. The beard of manhood still is
Faint on your cheeks, but I, alas! am old.
Doubtless you yet believe in Amaryllis ;-
Sing me of Her, whose name may not be told.

Yes, if you will.

FRANK.

His budding beard is riper,

Well, Lawrence, shall we

LAWRENCE.

But ere I play the piper,

Let him declare the prize he has to bring.

JACK.

Here then, my Shepherds. Lo, to him accounted
First in the song, a Pipe I will impart ;—
This, my Beloved, marvellously mounted,
Amber and foam,—a miracle of art.

LAWRENCE.

Lordly the gift. O Muse of many numbers,
Grant me a soft alliterative song!

FRANK.

Me too, O Muse! And when the Umpire slumbers,

Sting him with gnats a summer evening long.

LAWRENCE.

Not in a cot, begarlanded of spiders,
Not where the brook traditionally "purls,"
No, in the Row, supreme among the riders,
Seek I the gem,-the paragon of girls.

FRANK.

Not in the waste of column and of coping,
Not in the sham and stucco of a square,-
No, on a June-lawn, to the water sloping,
Stands she I honour, beautifully fair.