And worst of Fancy's weird creation;
Psyche and Cupid (demi-dressed)
With several Vestals - by request,
And solely for that one occasion.

XXVI.

And one, among the motley brood,

He saw, who shunned the wanton dances;

A sort of demi-nun, who stood

In ringlets flashing from a hood,

And seemed to seek our hero's glances.

XXVII.

The Count, delighted with her air,
Drew near, the better to behold her;

Her form was slight, her skin was fair,
And maidenhood, you well might swear,
Breathed from the dimples in her shoulder.

XXVIII.

He spoke; she answered with a grace
That showed the girl no vulgar heiress;
And, if the features one may trace

In voices, hers betrayed a face

The finest to be found in Paris!

XXIX.

And then such wit!

-in repartee

She shone without the least endeavor;

A beauty and a bel-esprit!

A scholar, too,—'t was plain to see, —

Who ever saw a girl so clever?

XXX.

Her taste he ventured to explore

In books

the graver and the lighter

And mentioned authors by the score;
Mon Dieu!-in every sort of lore
She always chose his favorite writer!

XXXI.

She loved the poets; but confessed
Racine beat all the others hollow;
At least, she thought his style the best-
(Racine! his literary test!

Racine! his Maximus Apollo !)

XXXII.

Whatever topic he might name,

Their minds were strangely sympathetic; Of courtship, marriage, fashion, fame, Their views and feelings were the same, "Parbleu!" he cried, "it looks prophetic!"

66

XXXIII.

Come, let us seek an ampler space;
This heated room - I can't abide it!
That mask, I'm sure, is out of place,
And hides the fairest, sweetest face
Said she, "I wear the mask to hide it!"

XXXIV.

The answer was extremely pat,

And gave the Count a deal of pleasure: "C'est vrai! - I did not think of that! Come, let us go where we can chat

And eat (I'm hungry) at our leisure.”

XXXV.

"I'm hungry too!" she said, — and went,
Without the least attempt to cozen,
Like ladies who refuse, relent,
Debate, oppose, and then consent

To eat enough for half a dozen!

XXXVI.

And so they sat them down to dine,
Solus cum sola, gay and merry;
The Count inquires the sort of wine
To which his charmer may incline, —

Ah! quelle merveille! she answers, "Sherry!"

XXXVII.

What will she eat? She takes the carte,
And notes the viands that she wishes;
"Pardon, Monsieur ! what makes you start?"
As if she knew his tastes by heart,
The lady named his favorite dishes!

XXXVIII.

Was e'er such sympathy before?

The Count was really half demented; He kissed her hand, and roundly swore He loved her perfectly ! — and, more, He'd wed her — if the gods consented!

XXXIX.

"Monsieur is very kind," she said, "His love so lavishly bestowing On one who never thought to wed,

And least of all". she raised her head

"'Tis late, Sir Knight, I must be going!"

XL.

Count Felix sighed, —and while he drew Her shawl about her, at his leisure, "What street?" he asked; "my cab is due." "No!no!" she said, "I go with you!

That is if it may be your pleasure."

XLI.

Of course, there's little need to say
The Count delighted in her capture;
Away he drove, and all the way
He murmured, "Quelle félicité !"
In very ecstasy of rapture!

XLII.

Arrived at home—just where a fount
Shot forth a jet of lucent water
He helped the lady to dismount;

She drops her mask—and lo! — the Count -
Sees - Dieu de ciel! - his only daughter!

XLIII.

"Good night!" she said, "I'm very well,

Although you thought my health was fading; Be good- and I will never tell

('T was funny though) of what befell

When you and I went masquerading!'

MY FAMILIAR.

"Ecce iterum Crispinus!"

I.

AGAIN I hear that creaking step!

He's rapping at the door!

Too well I know the boding sound
That ushers in a bore.

I do not tremble when I meet

The stoutest of my foes,

But Heaven defend me from the friend

He drops into my easy-chair,
And asks about the news;
He peers into my manuscript,
And gives his candid views;
He tells me where he likes the line,
And where he's forced to grieve;
He takes the strangest liberties, —
But never takes his leave!

III.

He reads my daily paper through
Before I've seen a word;
He scans the lyric (that I wrote)
And thinks it quite absurd;
He calmly smokes my last cigar,
And coolly asks for more;
He opens everything he sees —
Except the entry door!