_Und. (to himself, as he avails himself of this permission)._ I shall only make things worse if I explain now. But, oh, great Heavens, _what_ a position for a Poet. [Illustration: "Broken, Mademoiselle, absolutely broken."] * * * * * NEW LAMPS FOR OLD. Art was once defined as "the creation of new forms of beauty." Our juvenile geniuses have altered all that. "The New Art" is better defined as "the creation of novel forms of ugliness." Its inspiration is Corruption, its auxiliaries are the two hideous imps, Scratch and Smudge. Old Art, with its bosh about beauty, its rot about romance, its fudge about finish, its twaddle about taste, will be good enough to take a back seat. Apollo the Inspirer must give way to the sooty imp and incubus, New Scratch!-- RAPHAEL? Ideal Beauty spoiled his Art! REMBRANDT? Of light and shade he was no judge The Hideous now must play the leading part, Chiaroscuro yield to Shapeless Smudge * * * * * QUOTATION FROM BYRON FOR THE EMPEROR OF JAPAN. "AGAIN he urges on his wild Korea."--_Mazeppa._ * * * * * TO HANWELLIA FROM EARLSWOOD. ["In my time at Eton it was the custom with one's tutor to supply us with what was disrespectfully called 'nonsense' material for some suggested theme."--JAMES PAYN, _in "Our Note-Book" in "The Illustrated London News_."] Will you follow where the Bandicoots inevitably stray, As they amorously hurtle through the stubble and the hay; Where the Jebusites and Amorites are gathered in a bunch, While they watch the duck-billed Platypus preparing for his lunch? Where the toothsome Trichinopli keeps turning on the spit-- Oh my dove-like Trichinopoli, how hard you are to hit! There is something so elusive and desserting in your shape, That I had to shoot you sitting and to load my gun with grape. [Illustration] Though the Mandrake give you goose-skin by its inharmonious shriek, And a tug of war come thenning after Greek has met with Greek; I will stay at home and see the giddy milkman fill his pail For an orchestra of Clepsydras conducted by a Snail. And it's oh to be a Manatee--I think I shall be soon-- Riding coffee-coloured Dolphins on the snaffle (or bridoon). With his Barnacles and Biffin-boys belaying in the sea, He has always eggs at breakfast, has the merry Manatee. Can you see me then subsiding very stately very sly, Like a soluble quadratic which has lost its x and y. Getting out my rusty rapier and dissecting with a lunge All the daffodils and daisies that I grow upon my sponge? Can you see me on a tram-car, while I stand upon my head, Shredding out the scarlet runners which no publisher has read, In a horse-case predetermined by a puisne-judge alone, Who is tired of seeing juries with a rider of their own?