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(RONDEAU OF VILLON.)
E loved of yore, in warfare bold,
Let this left wall of Venus show
The arms, the tuneless lyre of old.
Here let them hang, the torches cold,
But thou, who Cyprus sweet dost hold, And Memphis free from Thracian snow, Goddess and queen, with vengeful blow, Smite,-smite but once that pretty scold We loved of yore!
"WHEN I SAW YOU LAST, ROSE.”
HEN I saw you last, Rose,
How fast the time goes!
Like a bud ere it blows,
You just peeped at the sky,
When I saw you last, Rose!
Now your petals unclose,
Now your May-time is nigh;—
And a life,-how it grows!
In your bosom it shows
Is it Cupid? Who knows!
When I saw you last, Rose ;-
ON A NANKIN PLATE.
H me, but it might have been !
Was there ever so dismal a fate?"
Quoth the little blue mandarin.
"Such a maid as was never seen!
She passed, tho' I cried to her 'Wait,’— Ah me, but it might have been !
"I cried, "O my Flower, my Queen, Be mine!' 'Twas precipitate,”Quoth the little blue mandarin,—
"But then.. she was just sixteen,-
"As it was, from her palankeen,
She laughed 'You're a week too late!'" (Quoth the little blue mandarin.)