Drear as repeated hisses at your Play. And drear as dreams by indigestion caused To those that take hot suppers; dull as law, Dull as dry law, and lost without regret; O House of Lords, the Bills that are a bore. _Punch_, March 7, 1868. * * * * * "Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea; The cloud may stoop from Heaven and take the shape, With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape; But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee? Ask me no more." * * * * * TENNYSON (_The Princess_). * * * * * TO AN IMPORTUNATE HOST. (_During Dinner, and after Tennyson_). Ask me no more: I've had enough Chablis; The wine may come again, and take the shape, From glass to glass, of "Mountain" or of "Cape;" But, my dear boy, when I have answered thee, Ask me no more. Ask me no more: what answer should I give, I love not pickled pork nor partridge pie; I feel if I took whisky I should die! Ask me no more--for I prefer to live: Ask me no more. Ask me no more: unless my fate is sealed, And I have striven against you all in vain. Let your good butler bring me Hock again: Then rest, dear boy. If for this once I yield, Ask me no more. ANONYMOUS. SONG. To the tune of Tennyson's "Home they brought her warrior dead." (General Hill fell in the battle before Petersburg, and was the last man buried with military honours on the eve of the evacuation). Lay the stern old warrior down, Deeply in his narrow bed, Ere the conqueror sack the town, Ere the foeman o'er him tread. They who checked the battle-tide-- Hoary warriors weeping said, "Foremost where the bravest died, Foremost where his country bled." Low they laid the Pride of War, Soldiers sternly round him mourned: "Glorious was our battle-star, Glorious when the battle burned." Loudly crashed the fierce farewell-- _This_ of all his toil the crown: Falling where his country fell, Falling by the fallen town. Turning from the warrior's side, Spake a chieftain often proved: "Nobly for our land he died, Nobly for the land he loved." A. R. _Exeter Coll._, Oxford. _College Rhymes_, 1865 (J. and G. Shrimpton, Oxford). * * * * * SONG. Home they brought her husband--"tight," She nor moved, nor uttered cry, But the Peeler, winking said, "Won't he get it by-and-bye." Then they placed him on the bed, Called him "Jolly dog," "old boy!" Placed the pillows 'neath his head-- Yet she showed nor grief, nor joy.