"For seven years The Cup I strove to win, But ever, when it seemed within my grip, He, rising o'er all others, entered in, And dashed it from my lip." His words of grief fell idly on my ear, As thunderdrops fall on a sleeping sea. Sudden I heard a voice that cried--"Come here, That you may look on me. "I am ex-champion, now three years displaced, And since that time I find it very slow; I have no _men_ to conquer in this waste, I war with fairer foe." He paused in gloom, and towards the others faced, To whom the Smiler--"Oh! you tamely died; You should have stood well to the back, and placed The ball along the side." "Alas! alas!" a low voice, full of care, Murmured beside me--"Champion I might be, But for this injured member which I bear I had gained victory." I gazed upon him, then became aware Of some one coming hastily in wrath, Reminding his twin-brother--"We're the pair Chosen to play the North. "_Do_ hurry up, our foes await us there; The stem, black-bearded form, the referee, Ejaculating, as he tears his hair, 'Where can the players be?'" Then seized his arm, and drew him from the spot. I, feeling tired and thirsty, strolled away; The day becoming most extremely hot, I cared to see no play. _Pastime_, February 13, 1884. * * * * * THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. Listen to the doleful story Of a juvenile M.P., He was but a voting Tory, And a farmer's daughter she. Spake he in his wisest manner (Whereat people often smiled), "You must give up your piano, You are but a farmer's child. "Straight forget each foreign tongue, dear, And, to further my desire, All the songs you ever sang, dear-- For a tenant is your sire." So she sells her dear piano; With the cash her bargain yields Buys she Gibbs's best guano, Which she scatters o'er the fields. Then forgets each well-bred accent, Foreign, native, just the same, All her modern books are back sent To the stores from whence they came. Then he marries her and makes her Thus a lady of renown, And with condescension takes her To his house by Stamford town. From the gate his crest depended, Which the owner's breeding shows; Hand with fingers wide extended Stretching from a lordly nose. Waves the flippant owner's pennant O'er the keep's embattled brow, Though her sire was but a tenant She is Lady Burleigh now. Long she lived in stately manner 'Mid the highborn and the grand, But she pined for her piano Scattered on the teeming land. Then she grew and ever thinner, And she murmured, "O that he, At that agricultural dinner, Had not ever counselled me."