“Turn, gentle Hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way To where some shanty cheers the vale With hospitable ray. “For as, forlorn and lost, I tread This weary waste, and slow, My skirts immeasurably spread Impede me as I go.” “Welcome, sweet girl!” the Hermit cries, “My roof shall give thee shade; I call thee girl, although mine eyes Behold no tender maid. “But, exiled from the world, I find―― However old she be―― That any one of womankind Is as a girl to me. “A kiss I beg, just one! what no? Is kissing then so wrong? Man wants a little here below Though not perhaps, for long. “Hold! hold!” the wand’rer cried, “nor dare My modesty invade!” Fury inspired the conscious fair, And fury her betrayed. That bristling cheek, that stubborn breast, Those thewy, threatening arms! The lonely stranger stands confest―― A man in all his charms. “And, ah! excuse a stranger rude, A hunted wretch,” he cried; “Indeed I hope I don’t intrude Where you in peace reside. “But pity a poor trader who Has mixed in public fray, And learned what politics can do In leading men astray, “My chief the Land League party led In Parliament and out, And by his side I fought and bled With constancy devout. “Pretenders to the Chiefship came To win me from his band; But still I loved but Parnell’s name And bow’d to his command. “And length to ’scape arrest, one morn He deemed it best to hide; And sought some solitude forlorn In secret, where he died. “Though ‘wanted’ too I fled uncaught In feminine array And seek the solitude he sought To stretch me where he lay. “There, my identity thus hid I’ll lay me down and die For Ireland so my Parnell did And so for him will I.” “Forbid it Heaven!” the Hermit cried, And clasped him to his breast The wondering stranger turn’d to chide ’Twas Parnell’s self that prest! “Turn Joey Biggar, ever dear! My comrade turn to see Thine own, thy long-lost Parnell here, True to the League and thee!” _The St. James’s Gazette_, February 28, 1881. ――――:o:―――― THE SPEAKER’S DINNER.