Or, again, as learned historian, I've noted down the deeds of yore, Woven in a graceful fashion, mines of thought from ancient lore. Burning passions, that consumed me, caused my throbbing heart to swell, Or, when seized with poet's fancy, I've attempted oft to tell. But the finest of our fancies very quickly disappear, If from thoughtfulness we're wakened by the foolish jest or jeer. White-sleeved waiters can't appreciate thoughts superior to red wine, And that Act, by one Mackenzie, foeman is to Muses Nine. In my rev'rie I was shaken, by a hand, and gruffly told That the hour had just departed, when with safety wine was sold. From _The Modern Athenian_, 18th March, 1876. * * * * * THE NEW ŒNONE.--AN EPIC FRAGMENT. (_With Apologies to the Poet Laureate._) O British Public, many-fadded public, Queer British Public, harken ere I die! It was the bright forenoon: one silvery cloud Had with soft sprinkle laid the gathered dust Of Mayfair. To the studio they came. Scant-robed they came before the camera. And at their feet was laid a carpet fair, Lemon, and cinnamon, and ghostly grey, Purple, and primrose. And the artist rose And overhead the swift spring-curtains drew This way and that in many a subtle shift For fine effect of light and shade, and placed Background of statuary and drooping boughs, With cloud and curtain, tower and portico. O British Public harken ere I die! I heard great Heré. She to Paris made Proffer of popular power, public rule, Unquestioned, an elastic revenue Wherewith to buoy and back Imperial plans, Honour (with Peace) she said, and tax and toll From many a Place of Arms and haven large, And Scientific Frontiers, and all else That patriotic potency may crave; To all most welcome, seeing men in power Then only are like gods, having attained Rest in "another place," and quiet seats Above the tumult, safe from Dissolution, In shelter of their great majority. O British Public harken ere I die! She ceased, and Paris held the golden fruit Out at arm's length, so much the thought of power Flattered his spirit; but Pallas where she stood Somewhat apart, her straight and stately limbs Uplifted, and her aspect high, if cold. The while above her full and earnest eye Over her firm set mouth and haughty cheek Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply. "Unselfishness, high honour, justice clear, These three alone give worth to sovereign power. Yet not for power (power of itself Is a base burden) but to hold as law The fiat high, 'Be just and do not fear.' And because right _is_ right to follow right, With a serene contempt of consequence." * * * * *