Then I pacified Pussy, and chid him For giving vulgarity room. And he promised to do as I bid him, But there passed o’er his features a gloom―― A settled and sable-hued gloom―― As black as the pall o’er a tomb. And I said――of it hoping to rid him―― “Dear Puss, what’s the cause of this gloom?” He replied, “You’ll resume! You’ll resume! ’Tis the thought of those words, You’ll resume!” _Punch_, August 26, 1882. ――――:o:―――― HOPE: AN ALLEGORY. The metre of this Poem is adapted from Edgar A. Poe’s “Ulalume.” King Phœbus came forth in his splendour Bedight in his garments of gold, And round the young treelings so tender, His raiments of rays did enfold―― Round Hebe, the young and the slender, His mantle of magic he roll’d, To keep her from blight and defend her From sorrow, temptation, or cold. And while he with Hebe was walking―― Whose face in the flow’rs was seen―― In the rosebud with red in between―― Violet-veined Venus came talking―― Oh! talking with Love came his queen,―― With Cupid she talking was seen; With Cupid for hearts she was hawking―― Was hawking o’er Hebe’s own green, To snare the warm heart of the Sun-king From Hebe, its self-chosen queen. And while the young pair were still parting, To Phœbus came blue-eyed Love; To the Sun-king came Venus’s dove, And then, from the bushes, upstarting, Soared into a cloudlet above. Then came from his bow swiftly darting An arrow――the arrow of Love. With the pain King Phœbus was sobbing, When Venus came by with her balms, And eased the Sun-king of his throbbing, As he lay in her beautiful arms; The wound of its pain quickly robbing; She sooth’d him with nepenthè calms; She sooth’d the Sun-king in his sobbing, By the sound of her Letheian psalms. Then King Phœbus with poppies she crown’d, While Somnus o’erwhelm’d him with sleep; And with slumber his senses they drown’d, And they soundly his senses did steep; And Venus her arms then unwound, While out of his heart Love did leap, And they left him alone on the ground―― They left him alone in deep sleep. * * * * * Fair Hebe was haunted with sorrow And died ’mong the faded flowers, While, alas! on the sad to-morrow, Phœbus trod through the dreamy hours―― Sought alone the blighted bowers. Not a glimpse of hope could he borrow―― Ever lost to this world of ours! While Venus ne’er stayed to console him But fled in the night and the gloom; E’en Love never stayed to condole him, But fled when young Hope lost her bloom; E’en Somnus no more can control him―― Death’s darkness before him doth loom, And pale death must soon be _his_ doom; And they’ll bury him deep in Hope’s tomb.