I have read in Greek a story, how some grave Athenian hoary Questioned 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 please". 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 restriction 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 name. TAKE AWAY THE LADY. "Good madonna give me leave to prove you a fool." TWELFTH NIGHT. Act 1. S. v. You were going to call him a fool! To your health with a slight mocking laugh. Your lover will easily find, Elsewhere, others as fair And perhaps rather more to his mind. I have just now been reading old Browning: Weariness drowning In the depths of an old easy chair; In my book crowded lair, Where the dust covered busts on me stare. Would you think Robert Browning a fool? When he wrote with such bliss Earnest lovers a pair In a gondola gliding To a dim water stair; Where a bravo is hiding! Soon, a crimson pool, wells from the breast To her's lately prest. Her hair's beauteous tress, To remove from the stain: So triflingly cool! A mental superior, you remotely inferior Deficient indeed not to know it: Can you knowledge receive? If so, try and believe that most people perceive Some ichor divine in a poet. Listen Loving beauty in every form Eyes glisten; Thought eager, soul warm; Of your very old fools! Whose ideas were by no means facetious! Yet we turn o'er their pages to lull us; Dreaming dreams in the sweet summer air In the shelter away from the glare. Of Eros the darts Had long tortured their hearts Ere they gave out their love-lays so specious. Pride did discover, in teasing her lover From that ancient myth As we read it to-day Time perhaps may have eaten the pith Who knows but that Sappho used Phaon What fun, make him jealous! Or, vow kind, cling and please; Then torture and tease; Keep cool! Till you see him depart With scorn in his heart. When he has gone, your weeds you put on ; In your lonely grief, Pride the only relief! 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. Cock-a-rell on ze Cathedral Church at Vells By force of reasonings smash him on ze spot. If truze be in a vell It is not in your Vells; As per-haps it may, Zat doubtlessly it sells To zose who for it pay; Mais tout le monde ne sait Que le Professeur d' architecture R. A. A été Par le Rouge Croix en verité, Planchéié. A WIVAW WHYME. "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, Weclined on cuthionth thoft, and thteawing Beauteouth, wich Mith Tharah Thimpthon Ath a blue thtocking thhe boathteth Thhe hath witten whymeth in weamth; Thhe dwinkth the pure Cathtalian thtweam. "Woll on! woll on! thweet thilvewy waterth! " (Thuth apothtwophitheth thhe) Thwiftly woll, thou wethtleth wivaw! Huwwying to the dithtant thea: Gwand, tewific, woawing othean! Thtawmy, dweadful, fuwiouth thea! On the thunny thtweam thlow thailing, Thhe theathed, and thoon thome laththeth thinging On a thudden-" Whaw the dickenth Be you thteawing ?"-thome one thwoa: We capthithed, and gwathiouth goodneth Alone knowth how we gained the thoa! |