His mistress, who had followed fast, Cried, "Little rogue, you're caught at last; I'm cleverer than you." Then straight the wanderer conveyed Where wayward shrubs, in tangled shade, Protected her from view. And timidly she glanced around, All fearful lest the slightest sound Might mortal footfall be; Then shrinkingly she stepped aside One moment--and her garter tied The truant to a tree. Perhaps the World may wish to know The hue of this enchanting bow, And if 'twere silk or lace; No, not from me, be pleased to think It might be either--blue or pink, 'Twas tied--with maiden grace. Suffice it that the child was fair, As Una sweet, with golden hair, And come of high degree; And though her feet were pure from stain, She turned her to the brook again, And laved them dreamingly. Awhile she sat in maiden mood, And watched the shadows in the flood, That varied with the stream; And as each pretty foot she dips, The ripples ope their crystal lips In welcome, as 'twould seem. Such reveries are fleeting things, Which come and go on whimsy wings,-- As kindly Fancy taught her The Fair her tender day-dream nurst; But when the light-blown bubble burst, She wearied of the water; Betook her to the spot where yet Safe tethered lay her captured pet, But lifting, with a start, her Astonished gaze, she spied a change, And screamed--it seemed so very strange!... Cried Echo,--"Where's my garter?" The blushing girl her lamb led home, Perhaps resolved no more to roam At peep of day together; If chance so takes them, it is plain She will not venture forth again Without an extra tether! A fair white stone will mark this morn, I wear a prize, one lightly worn, Love's gage--though not intended-- Of course I'll guard it near my heart, Till suns and even stars depart, And chivalry has ended. Dull World! I now resign to you Those crosses, stars, and ribbons blue, With which you deck your martyrs: I'll bear my cross amid your jars, My ribbon prize, and thank my stars I do not crave your garters. THE CROSSING-SWEEPER. AZLA AND EMMA. _A crossing-sweeper, black and tan, Tells how he came from Hindustan, And why he wears a hat, and shunned The fatherland of Pugree Bund._ My wife had charms, she worshipped me,-- Her father was a Caradee, His deity was aquatile, A rough and tough old Crocodile. To gratify this monster's maw He sacrificed his sons-in-law; We married, tho' the neighbours said he Had lost five sons-in-law already. Her father, when he played these pranks, Proposed "a turn" on Jumna's banks; He spoke so kind, she seemed so glum, I knew at once that mine had come.