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I have read in Greek a story, how some grave Atheniau
hoaryQuestioned by a chattering koreus, who his nose did
gently seize, Asking—"how or in what fashion he should shave
him"-said with passion And with accent unmistakable" in silence if you
As my hair was getting longer, the resolve at last grew
stronger And I entered in desponding mood an operator's door ; Prepared for the infliction on my brain without re
striction Of the everlasting irksome gabble heard so oft before.
Astonished beyond measure at experiencing a pleasure ; I listened to his scissors' click ;-he spoke not till at last My surprise was undiminished, when he told me he had
finished ; And I own upon that little man I really looked aghast ! In memoriam inditing, these few lines I now am writing On the conduct of a coiffeur hitherto unknown to fame; At times he was loquacious—but this tale is quite
veracious; I shall never meet his fellow !
-Alfred Dawson was his
TAKE AWAY THE LADY.
TWELFTH NIGHT. Act 1. S. v.
No need, he knew it ! indeed
health with a slight mocking laugh. Women can be so curiously cruel ! Now the fire
bosom the fuel.
Elsewhere, others as fair
chair; In my book crowded lair, Where the dust covered busts on me stare.
think Robert Browning a fool ?
Earnest lovers a pair
To a dim water stair;
Where a bravo is hiding !
To her's lately prest.
Her hair's beauteous tress,
So triflingly cool!
Hesitate not to designate fool !
Can you knowledge receive ?
Anacreon, Ovid, Catullus
Of your very old fools !
Yet we turn o'er their pages to lull us ;
Of Eros the darts Had long tortured their hearts Ere they gave out their love-lays so specious.
And many a loved classic lady, a
As we read it to-day-
Who knows but that Sappho used Phaon
If a lover be zealous,
Keep cool !
With scorn in his heart.
Then, my sweet one, pray which is the fool ! Good madonna dear, which is the fool ?
ICONOGRAPHY OF WELLS CATHEDRAL. BY CHARLES ROBERT COCKERELL, R. A., LONDON & OXFORD 1857.
R. C. VERSUS R. A.
Cock-a-rell on ze Cathedral Church at Vells
Ah! Monsieur Cock-a-rell,
As per-haps it may,
Cést toujours vrai
"Bleth uth, whoth thith !” Ford. The lady's trial.
“ He lisped in numbers.”—LIFE OF POPE. Thailing on the bwimming wivaw,
Widing on ith wippling wavth, Where thweet honeythuckle bweatheth,
And gween gwaththy lawnth it lavth;
Weclined on cuthionth thoft, and thteawing
Evewy way ekthept the wight, Beauteouth, wich Mith Tharah Thimpthon Enthwalth my
thoul with chawmth tho bwight !
Ath a blue thtocking thhe boathteth
Thhe hath witten whymeth in weamth; And the Hewaldth pageth witneth
Thome of her thelethtial dweamth. Thchitht thhe talkth of and magnethian,
Vewy puththling wordth they theem; But while I thip Bathth or Allthopp,
Thhe dwinkth the pure Cathtalian thtweam.
“Woll on! woll on! thweet thilvewy waterth !"
(Thuth apothtwophitheth thhe) “ Thwiftly woll, thou wethtleth wiyaw!
Huwwying to the dithtant thea: Gwand, tewific, woawing othean !
Thtawmy, dweadful, fuwiouth thea !
Thimilaw to etwawnity."
Thuth Mith Tharah Thimpthon thpoke;
And fiddelth the thoft thilenth bwoke. On a thudden—" Whaw the dickenth
Be you thteawing ?”—thome one thwoa: We capthithed, and gwathiouth goodneth
Alone knowth how we gained the thoa !