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NE QUID SIMILE FECERIS.

How very nice-to meet young Ella,
Very nice indeed!

How pleasant now-to stroll with Ella,
In the stream-side mead.

How nice 't would be to pat fair Ella,
On her dainty cheek:
Excessively-to dance with Ella,

And of love to speak.

It would be nice-to fondle Ella,
Make her quite a pet :
Extremely nice-entwining Ella
In love's fairy net ;

And then-to kiss the little Ella?
Yet it might be well

Not to do so, for young Ella,
Perhaps, might kiss and tell.

CHUBB'S HOTEL.

Good wine needs no bush.

Should you visit Plymouth,

Good advice don't snub, If you wish for comfort Go to Mr. Chubb.

Genuine wine and welcome,
Junket, Syllabub :-

Milk of human kindness

Creams in Mrs. Chubb.

Luxury of cuisine—

Quite a west-end club

You will find, believe me,

In the halls of Chubb.

Ionian Island Vintners

Still hang out the shrub,
The proverb's true, though musty,

So no sign hath Chubb.

Friends in fair Devonia !

Thus I roll my tub

With all who've stayed, en passant,

At the house of Chubb.

Down Channel, 1860.

PLYMOUTH SOUND.

Rocky Plymouth's a pleasant old town,
Than Brighton or Ramsgate much funnier;
Though the rain does come frequently down,
You'll scarce find a watering place sunnier.

For the sunshine secedes from the skies,
To be joyously radiant much nearer,

In the lustre of beautiful eyes,

Than all others far sweeter and dearer.

Creamy Devon's lithe daughters are kind,
They possess a remarkable grace, too;

To agaceries not disinclined,

And so naïvely they look in your face, too.

You may hunt, shoot, fish, race, sketch, or row,

Or go witness the August regatta,

From a picturesque height called the Hoe,
All alive with tents, music and chatter.

Where the wind plays at romps on the wold,
Whistling wildly about ladies' tresses,

Or confusingly rustling each fold
Of rich perfumed voluminous dresses.

Had Ulysses such Sirens been near
Ere fate tossed him about in his ship so,
To my mind 'tis exceedingly clear
He would not have gone on to Calypso.

H. M. S. Rattler, 1862.

IN PARIS AFTER SEDAN.

A SLIGHT INCONSISTENCY.

In Paris of late both the women and men
Are effacing each sign of the capital N;
The Bees of the dynasty too they destroy;
And heraldic displacement is mischief's employ.
Will they be quite consistent and so not refrain
From casting the coinage all into the Seine !
Ah! Gamins! while on it those features remain,
You have not one half done what you strive to attain.

HIBERNICE.

KEEP ON NEVER MINDING.

When malice is railing

And honor assailing,

'Tis made unavailing,

By silent contempt:

The good and the holy,

The high-born or lowly,

May not escape wholly

From envy exempt.

To scandalization

And vituperation,

You bring "botheration"

By holding your tongue;

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The special pleader

Is deemed a seceder

From the broad fair field of facts:

With logic he uses an axe!

The body of truth he disjoints;

And picks out for himself certain points.

By means of thin talk,

He endeavours to balk

His opponents of fair play, a jewel

That he fain would calcine, but the fuel

He uses creates only smoke!

And the wise cough and laugh at the joke.

In the minds of the sensible

He is thought reprehensible;

Though he may delude bucolic folk.

AD ALEXANDROVNAM, DE NIVE QUÆ CECIDIT

66

DUM CONJUX DOMUM DUCEBAT.

Anglia te festo hoc Hymenæâ voce salutat,

Regalis stirpis regia nupta, die;

Et niveo gaudens sese vestivit amictu,

Ut patriæ credas litus adesse tuæ."

THE PRESS, April 18.

ON THE DUCHESS OF EDINBURGH'S RECEPTION IN LONDON, MARCH 12TH, 1874.

Translation.

With Hymeneal joy a nation greets thee
Welcome, beloved bride of royal race.

The country clothed in snowy vesture meets thee,
That thou mayst take it for thy native place!

AIMÉE.

A maiden gentle fair and kind,
Will you say that Love is blind!
Giving to you on her part,

The incense of a loving heart?

Amy, always loved of all,

One bright day, said not--nay;
But responded to love's call:

So we say-Fiancée

Now should write her name Aimée.

Happy man who on the brink

Of love's fountain leans to drink ;

Of the deeper light that lies

In the depths of mirthful eyes.

Amy, always loved of all,

Blusheth red at Hymen's call!

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