Vernal endearments with the violet ?"
So they contested yet concerted, all
As one, to circle round about, enthral
Yet, self-forgetting, push to prominence
The midmost wonder, gained no matter whence.

There's a tale extant, in a book I conned
Long years ago, which treats of things beyond
The common, antique times and countries queer
And customs strange to match. “'T is said,
last year,"

(Recounts my author) "that the King had mind To view his kingdom - guessed at from behind A palace-window hitherto. Announced

No sooner was such purpose than 't was pounced
Upon by all the ladies of the land-

Loyal but light of life: they formed a band
Of loveliest ones but lithest also, since
Proudly they all combined to bear their prince.
Backs joined to breasts, arms, legs,

ankles, wrists,

nay,

Hands, feet, I know not by what turns and twists,

So interwoven lay that you believed

'T was one sole beast of burden which received The monarch on its back, of breadth not scant, Since fifty girls made one white elephant.'

So with the fifty flowers which shapes and hues
Blent, as I tell, and made one fast yet loose
Mixture of beauties, composite, distinct
No less in each combining flower that linked
With flower to form a fit environment

For whom might be the painter's heart's in

length,

As down he threw the pencil — “Grace from Strength

Dissociate, from your flowery fringe detach My face of whom it frames, - the feat will match

With that of Time should Time from me extract
Your memory, Artemisia!" And in fact,
What with the pricking impulse, sudden glow
Of soul-head, hand coöperated so
That face was worthy of its frame, 't is said —
Perfect, suppose !

They parted. Soon instead
Of Rome was home, of Artemisia — well,
The placid-perfect wife. And it befell
That after the first incontestably
Blessedest of all blisses (— wherefore try
Your patience with embracings and the rest
Due from Calypso's all-unwilling guest
To his Penelope ?) there somehow came
The coolness which as duly follows flame.
So, one day, "What if we inspect the gifts
My Art has gained us?"

Now the wife uplifts

A casket-lid, now tries a medal's chain Round her own lithe neck, fits a ring in vain - Too loose on the fine finger, vows and

Such spells Subdue such natures sex must worship toys Trinkets and trash; yet, ah, quite other joys Must stir from sleep the passionate abyss Of such an one as her I know not this My gentle consort with the milk for blood! Why, did it chance that in a careless mood (In those old days, gone never to returnWhen we talked she to teach and I to learn) I dropped a word, a hint which might imply Consorts exist - how quick flashed fire from

eye,

Brow blackened, lip was pinched by furious lip!
I needed no reminder of my slip:
One warning taught me wisdom. Whereas
here...

Aha, a sportive fancy! Eh, what fear
Of harm to follow? Just a whim indulged!

"My Beatricé, there 's an undivulged
Surprise in store for you: the moment 's fit
For letting loose a secret: out with it!
Tributes to worth, you rightly estimate
These gifts of Prince and Bishop, Church and
State:

In florist's lore more accurately named And praised or, as appropriately, blamed Specimen after specimen of skill,

Than Bicé. Rightly placed the daffodil -
Scarcely so right the blue germander. Gray
Good mouse-ear! Hardly your auricula
Is powdered white enough. It seems to me
Scarlet not crimson, that anemone:
But there 's amends in the pink saxifrage.
O darling dear ones, let me disengage
You innocents from what your harmlessness
Clasps lovingly! Out thou from their caress,
Serpent!

Whereat forth-flashing from her coils
On coils of hair, the spilla in its toils
Of yellow wealth, the dagger-plaything kept
To pin its plaits together, life-like leapt
And woe to all inside the coronal!

Stab followed stab, cut, slash, she ruined all The masterpiece. Alack for eyes and mouth And dimples and endearment - North and

South,

East, West, the tatters in a fury flew:

There yawned the circlet. What remained to

do?

Indeed for certain that our painter's toils
At fresco-splashing, finer stroke in oils,
Were not so mediocre after all;'
Perhaps the work appears unduly small
From having loomed too large in old esteem,
Patronized by late Papacy. I seem
Myself to have cast eyes on certain work
In sundry galleries, no judge needs shirk
From moderately praising. He designed
Correctly, nor in color lagged behind
His age: but both in Florence and in Rome
The elder race so make themselves at home
That scarce we give a glance to ceilingfuls
Of such like as Francesco. Still, one culls
From out the heaped laudations of the time
The pretty incident I put in rhyme.

FLUTE-MUSIC, WITH AN ACCOMPANIMENT

He. АH, the bird-like fluting

Through the ash-tops yonder Bullfinch-bubblings, soft sounds suiting What sweet thoughts, I wonder? Fine-pearled notes that surely

Gather, dewdrop-fashion,

Deep-down in some heart which purely
Secretes globuled passion -
Passion insuppressive-

Such is piped, for certain;
Love, no doubt, nay, love excessive
'T is, your ash-tops curtain.

What? calm Acquiescence?
"Daisied turf gives room to
Trefoil, plucked once in her presence
Growing by her tomb too!"

She. All's your fancy-spinning!
Here's the fact: a neighbor
Never-ending, still beginning,
Recreates his labor:
Deep o'er desk he drudges,
Adds, divides, subtracts and
Multiplies, until he judges
Noonday-hour's exact sand
Shows the hour-glass emptied :
Then comes lawful leisure,
Minutes rare from toil exempted,
Fit to spend in pleasure.

Out then with what treatise?
Youth's Complete Instructor

How to play the Flute. Quid petis?
Follow Youth's conductor
On and on, through Easy,
Up to Harder, Hardest

Flute-piece, till thou, flautist wheezy,

Possibly discardest

Tootlings hoarse and husky,

Mayst expend with courage

Breath- -on tunes once bright, now dusky —

Meant to cool thy porridge.

That's an air of Tulou's

He maltreats persistent,,

Till as lief I'd hear some Zulu's
Bone-piped bag, breath-distent,
Madden native dances.

I'm the man's familiar:
Unexpectedness enhances
What your ear's auxiliar
-Fancy finds suggestive.
Listen! That 's legato

Rightly played, his fingers restive
Touch as if staccato.

He. Ah, you trick-betrayer!
Telling tales, unwise one?
So the secret of the player
Was- he could surprise one
Well-nigh into trusting

Here was a musician
Skilled consummately, yet lusting
Through no vile ambition
After making captive

All the world, — rewarded
Amply by one stranger's rapture,
Common praise discarded.

So, without assistance

Such as music rightly

Needs and claims, -defying distance,
Overleaping lightly
Obstacles which hinder,

He, for my approval,

All the same and all the kinder

Made mine what might move all
Earth to kneel adoring:

Took - while he piped Gounod's

Bit of passionate imploring — Me for Juliet: who knows?

No! as you explain things,
All's mere repetition,
Practise-pother: of all vain things
Why waste pooh or pish on
Toilsome effort- - never
Ending, still beginning

After what should pay endeavor
Right-performance? winning
Weariness from you who,

Ready to admire some

Owl's fresh hooting- Tu-whit, tu-who-
Find stale thrush-songs tiresome.

She. Songs, Spring thought perfection,
Summer criticises:

What in May escaped detection,
August, past surprises,

Notes, and names each blunder.
You, the just-initiate,

Praise to heart's content (what wonder?)
Tootings I hear vitiate

Romeo's serenading —

I who, times full twenty,

Turned to ice-no ash-tops aiding

At his caldamente.

Which has always found me restive To its admonition

When it ventured whisper

Fool, the strifes and struggles
Of your trembler - blusher-lisper
Were so many juggles,
Tricks tried-oh, so often!-
Which once more do duty,
Find again a heart to soften,
Soul to snare with beauty."

Birth-blush of the briar-rose,

Mist-bloom of the hedge-sloe, Some one gains the prize: admire rose Would he, when noon's wedge-slow

Sure, has pushed, expanded

Rathe pink to raw redness?

Would he covet sloe when sanded

By road-dust to deadness?

So restore their value!

Ply a water-sprinkle !

Then guess sloe is fingered, shall you?
Find in rose a wrinkle?

Here what played Aquarius?

Distance ash-tops aiding,
Reconciled scraps else contrarious,
Brightened stuff fast fading.
Distance-call your shyness:
Was the fair one peevish?
Coyness softened out of slyness.
Was she cunning, thievish,
All-but-proved impostor?
Bear but one day's exile,
Ugly traits were wholly lost or
Screened by fancies flexile -

Ash-tops these, you take me?
Fancies' interference
Changed.

But since I sleep, don't wake me! What if all 's appearance?

Is not outside seeming

Real as substance inside ?

Both are facts, so leave me dreaming:
If who loses wins I'd

His Panegyric on the Emperor.

Nobody like him," little Flaccus laughed,
At leading forth an Epos with due pomp!
Only, when godlike Cæsar swells the theme,
How should mere mortals hope to praise aright?
Tell me, thou offshoot of Etruscan kings!
Whereat Mæcenas smiling sighed assent.

I paid my quadrans, left the Therma's roar
Of rapture as the poet asked, “What place
Among the godships Jove, for Cæsar's sake,
Would bid its actual occupant vacate
In favor of the new divinity?"

And got the expected answer, "Yield thine own!"

Jove thus dethroned, I somehow wanted air,
And found myself a-pacing street and street,
Letting the sunset, rosy over Rome,
Clear my head dizzy with the hubbub-
As if thought's dance therein had kicked up
dust

-say,

By trampling on all else: the world lay prone, As-poet-propped, in brave hexameters Their subject triumphed up from man to God. Caius Octavius Cæsar the August

Where was escape from his prepotency?