We plumply promise you a special joy,
To Princes rarely known,

(And one you 'll never find about a throne,)
To wit, the bliss of being let alone!
No scientific bores from Athenæums;
No noisy guns, nor tedious te-deums,

Shall vex your Royal Highness for a minute;
A glass of lemonade, with "something in it,"
A fragrant meerschaum, with the morning news,
Or sweet Virginia “fine-cut,” — if you choose,
These, and what else your Highness may demand
Of simple luxury, shall be at hand,

And at your royal service.

O come where you may gain

Come!

(What advertisers oft have sought in vain) "The comforts of a home"!

Come, Prince of Wales! - we greatly need

Your royal presence, Sir,

For why?

- we do indeed:

we have a pretty hamlet here,

But then, you see, 't is equally as clear

(Your Highness understands Shakespearian hints)

A Hamlet is n't much without a Prince!

NIL ADMIRARI.

I.

HEN Horace in Vendusian groves

WHEN

Was scribbling wit or sipping "Massic,"

Or singing those delicious loves

Which after ages reckon classic,

He wrote one day —'t was no vagary –

These famous words: - Nil admirari!

II.

"Wonder at nothing!" said the bard; A kingdom's fall, a nation's rising, A lucky or a losing card,

Are really not at all surprising; However men or manners vary, Keep cool and calm; Nil admirari !

III.

If kindness meet a cold return;
If friendship prove a dear delusion;
If love, neglected, cease to burn,
Or die untimely of profusion,

Such lessons well may make us wary,
But need n't shock; Nil admirari!

IV.

Does disappointment follow gain ?
Or wealth elude the keen pursuer ?
Does pleasure end in poignant pain?
Does fame disgust the lucky wooer,
Or haply prove perversely chary ?
'T was ever thus; Nil admirari!

V.

Does January wed with May,

Or ugliness consort with beauty? Does Piety forget to pray?

And, heedless of connubial duty, Leave faithful Ann for wanton Mary? 'T is the old tale; Nil admirari!

VI.

Ah! when the happy day we reach
When promisers are ne'er deceivers ;
When parsons practise what they preach,
And seeming saints are all believers,
Then the old maxim you may vary,
And say no more, Nil admirari!

THE COQUETTE.

A PORTRAIT.

YOU 're clever at drawing, I own,"

“γου

Said my beautiful cousin Lisette,

As we sat by the window alone,

"But say, can you paint a Coquette?"

"She's painted already," quoth I;

--

"Nay, nay!" said the laughing Lisette, "Now none of your joking, but try And paint me a thorough Coquette."

"Well, cousin," at once I began

In the ear of the eager Lisette, "I'll paint you as well as I can

That wonderful thing, a Coquette.

"She wears a most beautiful face,"

("Of course!" said the pretty Lisette,) "And is n't deficient in grace,

Or else she were not a Coquette.

"And then she is daintily made”
(A smile from the dainty Lisette)
"By people expert in the trade

Of forming a proper Coquette.

"She's the winningest ways with the beaux,"

("Go on!"— said the winning Lisette,) "But there is n't a man of them knows The mind of the fickle Coquette !

"She knows how to weep and to sigh,"
(A sigh from the tender Lisette,)
"But her weeping is all in my eye, —
Not that of the cunning Coquette !

"In short, she's a creature of art,"

("O hush!" said the frowning Lisette,) "With merely the ghost of a heart, – Enough for a thorough Coquette.

"And yet I could easily prove

("Now don't!"— said the angry Lisette,)

"The lady is always in love, —

In love with herself, — the Coquette !

"There,

do not be angry!— you know,

My dear little cousin Lisette,

You told me a moment ago

To paint you a thorough Coquette ! "

CARMEN LÆTUM:

RECITED, AFTER DINNER, BEFORE THE ALUMNI OF MIDDLEBURY COLLEGE, AT THEIR SEMI-CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION, AUGUST 22, 1850.

A RIGHT loving welcome, my true-hearted Brothers,

Who have come out to visit the kindest of mothers; You may think as you will, but there is n't a doubt Alma Mater rejoices, and knows you are out! Rejoices to see you in gratitude here, Returning to honor her fiftieth year.

And while the good lady is so overcome

With maternal emotion, she's stricken quite dumb,
(A thing, I must own, that 's enough to perplex
A shallow observer, who thinks that the sex,
Whatever may be their internal revealings,
Can never be pained with unspeakable feelings,)
Indulge me, dear Brothers, nor think me ill-bred,
If I venture a moment to speak in her stead.
I, who, though the humblest and homeliest one,
Feel the natural pride of a dutiful son,

And esteem it to-day the profoundest of joys,
That, not less than yourselves, I am one of the boys!

First as to her health, which, I'm sorry to say, Has been better, no doubt, than she finds it to-day; Yet when you reflect she 's been somewhat neglected, She's really as well as could well be expected; And, spite of ill-treatment and premature fears, Is a hearty old lady, for one of her years. Indeed, I must tell you a bit of a tale,

To show you she 's feeling remarkably hale;