Like them, departs afar From England's fogs and vapours The literary star, The writer for the papers: But not, like them, at home Leaves he his calling's fetters: Nought can release him from The tyranny of Letters! When classic scenes amid For rest and peace he hankers, _Amari aliquid_ His joys aesthetic cankers: Whate'er he sees, he knows He has to write upon it A paragraph of prose Or possibly a sonnet: By mountain lakelets blue, 'Mid wild romantic heath, he's A martyr always to _Scribendi cacoethes_: The Naiad-haunted stream Or lonely mountain-top he Considers as a theme Available for "copy." If on the sunlit main With ardour rapt he gazes, He's torturing his brain For neat pictorial phrases: When in a ship or boat He navigates the briny (And here 'tis his to quote Examples set by Heine) While fellow-passengers Lie stretched in mere prostration, He duly registers Each horrible sensation-- He notes his qualms with care, And bids the public know 'em In "Thoughts on Mal de Mer," Or "Nausea: a Poem." * * * * Such is his earthly lot: Nor is it wholly certain If Death for him or not Rings down the final curtain, Or if, when hence he's fled To worlds or worse or better, He'll send per Mr St--d A crisp descriptive letter! VERNAL VERSES When early worms began to crawl, and early birds to sing, And frost, and mud, and snow, and rain proclaimed the jocund spring, Its all-pervading influence the Poet's soul obeyed-- He made a song to greet the Spring, and this is what he made:-- They sadly lacked enlightenment, our ancestors of old, Who used to suffer simply from an ordinary cold: But we, of Science' mysteries less ignorant by far, Have nothing less distinguished than a Bronchial Catarrh! O when your head's a lump of lead and nought can do but sneeze: Whene'er in turn you freeze and burn, and then you burn and freeze:-- It does not mean you're going to die, although you think you are-- These are the primal symptoms of a Bronchial Catarrh. And when you've taken drugs and pills, and stayed indoors a week, Yet still your chest with pain opprest will hardly let you speak: Amid your darksome miseries be this your guiding star-- 'Tis simply the remainder of a Bronchial Catarrh. In various ways do various men invite misfortune's rods,-- Some row within their College boat,--some Logic read for Mods.: But oh! of all the human ills our happiness that mar I do not know the equal of a Bronchial Catarrh! PENSEES DE NOEL When the landlord wants the rent Of your humble tenement, When the Christmas bills begin Daily, hourly pouring in, When you pay your gas and poor rate, Tip the rector, fee the curate, Let this thought your spirit cheer-- Christmas comes but once a year.