A lover came riding by awhile, A wealthy lover was he, whose smile Some maids would value greatly-- A formal lover, who bowed and bent, With many a high-flown compliment, And cold demeanour stately. [Illustration] "You've still," said she to her suitor stern, "The 'prentice-work of your craft to learn. If thus you come a-cooing. I've time to lose and power to choose; 'Tis not so much the gallant who woos As the gallant's way of wooing!" [Illustration] A second lover came ambling by-- A timid lad with a frightened eye And a colour mantling highly. He muttered the errand on which he'd come, Then only chuckled and bit his thumb, And simpered, simpered shyly. "No," said the maiden, "go your way, You dare but think what a man would say, Yet dare come a-suing! I've time to lose and power to choose; 'Tis not so much the gallant who woos As the gallant's way of wooing!" A third rode up at a startling pace-- A suitor poor, with a homely face-- No doubts appeared to bind him. He kissed her lips and he pressed her waist, And off he rode with the maiden, placed On a pillion safe behind him. And she heard the suitor bold confide This golden hint to the priest who tied The knot there's no undoing: "With pretty young maidens who can choose "Tis not so much the gallant who woos As the gallant's way of wooing!" [Illustration] [Illustration] TRUE DIFFIDENCE My boy, you may take it from me, That of all the afflictions accurst With which a man's saddled And hampered and addled, A diffident nature's the worst. Though clever as clever can be-- A Crichton of early romance-- You must stir it and stump it, And blow your own trumpet, Or, trust me, you haven't a chance. Now take, for example, _my_ case: I've a bright intellectual brain--- In all London city There's no one so witty-- I've thought so again and again. I've a highly intelligent face-- My features can not be denied-- But, whatever I try, sir, I fail in--and why, sir? I'm modesty personified! As a poet, I'm tender and quaint-- I've passion and fervour and grace-- From Ovid and Horace To Swinburne and Morris, They all of them take a back place. Then I sing and I play and I paint; Though none are accomplished as I To say so were treason: You ask me the reason? I'm diffident, modest, and shy! [Illustration] [Illustration] HONGREE AND MAHRY A RICHARDSONIAN MELODRAMA