And PUNCHIUS, waggishly winking a wary eye, Cried, "Coming, my nautical darlings!--at least, I'll try. Middle-aged? I'm as young as a masher of five-and-twenty! I love pretty girls, honest fun, and the _far niente_. I'm 'a young man,' but not 'from the country,' as you will find, And if you are game for flirtation, well, _I_ don't mind!" And he stepped him down, and he sat by the sounding shore, And chatted, and flirted, and laughed with the sirens four; And he sang, as young TENNYSON might have, or UHLAND, the German, This song of the Modern Merman!-- "Who would not be A merman bold, And sit by the sea, With mermaids free. And sweet converse hold With nice nautical girls, And toy with their curls, And watch the gleam Of their glistening pearls, As they chatter, chatter On,--well, no matter Each with her tale And whisks her--narrative. (Pink skin or scale, Charms are all comparative!) Oh what a happy life were mine With Beauty (though caudate) beside the brine! With four sea-fairies beside the sea _Punch_ can live merrily, merrily!" And the Mermaids pinched the Punchian cheek (For his Caudal lecture) and made him squeak. And he cried "Revenge!" (like TIMOTHEUS, Miss) And a sweet revenge for a nip is a kiss. And around the rock siren laughter rang And that bevy of sweet sea-fairies sang:-- "O the laugh-ripple breaks on the breaking wave, And sweet are its echoes from cove and cave, And sweet shall your welcome be, You dear old Cove, Whom all she-things love, O hither, come hither and be our lord, For merry mischiefs are we! We kiss sweet kiss, and we speak sweet word: O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten. ('Tis better than being by B-RTL-YS bored!) Business? O fiddle-de-dee!!! With pleasure and love make jubilee. Leucosia, Ligea, Parthenope Will load your briar and brew your tea. And we keep rare stingo down under the sea, For we tithe earth's commerce, all duty-free! Where will you light on a happier shore. Or gayer companions or richer store, All the world o'er, all the world o'er? Whither away? listen and stay! To _Judy_ and Parliament fly no more!" _And sick of St. Stephen's, in holiday mood, The Modern Ulysses half wishes he could!_ [Illustration: CONFRÈRES. _Master Jacky (who took part in some school theatricals last term,--suddenly, to eminent Tragedian who has come to call)._ "I SAY, YOU KNOW--_I_ ACT!"] * * * * * LYRE AND LANCET. (_A Story in Scenes._) PART XI.--TIME AND THE HOUR. SCENE XIX.--_The Dining Hall._ _Spurrell_ (_to himself, uncomfortably conscious of the expectant_ THOMAS _in his rear_). Must write _something_ to this beggar, I suppose; it'll keep him quiet. (_To_ Mrs. BROOKE-CHATTERIS.) I--I just want to write a line or two. Could you oblige me with a lead-pencil?