370

Terrific passion of the human mind,
Which is by it to every crime inclined;
My next is ever used with base intent,
And of my first is oft the instrument.

1. Oh! noble heart, that sought'st a cruel death,
Rather than even with thy foes break faith.
2. Slippery I'm deemed by all that with me
deal;

3. Maids, tend my fires, or die without appeal! 4. Well may the sailor wish himself on shore

When this tempestuous wind begins to roar; 5. No friend, no servant loves me, and the poor Still leave my name unblessed, and shun my door;

6. Bold warrior, hurl me in thy foeman's teeth; When green, I ripen 'neath my verdant wreath.

7. Take all of pleasure now that you can snatch, And eggs that hens are never meant to hatch.

371

F. L. R.

Beneath my roof plenty and affluence dwell; Though wanting these, the peasant loves me well.

1. Bereft of reason, see me crouching there ; 2. A poet, from Italia's shores so fair;

3. They near the winning-post-the race is won; 4. Without my fourth, our dinner is poor fun; 5. Through the jungle streams the tropic sun; 6. Longer than broad, describes my figure now; 7. What Adam did on everything bestow.

R. R.

372

Not far apart lie these great men,
One of the sword, one of the pen;
The first of yore a hero bold,
His history by the second told;
Two abbeys fair contain their dust;
'Their souls are with the saints, we trust.'

1. Oh! cruel fate, in beggared age!
Blind victim to a tyrant's rage.

2. Observe it-for in errors strange

They fall whose minds are prone to change. 3. How oft in youth, with eyes intent, We o'er these Mysteries have bent.

4. My name is given to a hill

Where our brave dead lie calm and still.

5. Most ponderous must that host have been, Where my huge form was fighting seen.

373

Yes, it comes at last—

My foes have got me fast:

L. F.

1. They have drawn my life-blood from my veins

Who'd give a straw for what remains ?

2. Who counts this for a crime, as Herbert says, Shows himself erring-lack of wit betrays.

3. Historian of that beauteous southern clime, Whose tongue is music and whose prose is rhyme,

4. The autumn gales blow keen with wild alarms, And rudely tear their offspring from their

arins.

5. Thou art fair, and yet not beautiful, fair child, With strange, unnatural eyes, restless and wild.

6. Brave monarch, thou art noble called and mild, Yet to thy throne I'd fain not be beguiled.

I. F.

374

My first make outward show in this world's stage, And no hard study need;

My second are a time-engraven page,

Which we must slowly read.

1. Thy title, general, and this bloodstained tower, Were bravely fought for-vain an empire's power.

2. My value's small, and yet I once did wear A weight too splendid for my neck to bear.

3. As such, and so, in learned books I stand; Reader excuse, nor second sense demand.

4. I'm rightly placed within a gaol, and yet I'm quite at home among a courtly set.

5. Though many children thump us o'er and o'er, We are just as equal as we were before. A. H.-S. P.

375

Great and rich have the triumphs been
That to my first are reckoned;
But greater and richer still, I ween,
When it passed into my second.

1. A regulation of the moon;

2.

Love me! and half the lesson's learned!

3. Journal to travellers a boon;

4.

N.B.-Umbrellas not returned;

5. The apple shows that woman's weak; Italian city—(native form);

6.

7. When trampled France would vengeance

wreak,

A central figure in the storm.

L. P. W.

376

A TOWN AND A NAVAL BATTLE FOUGHT NEAR IT.

1. What! come unasked and at my banquet sit ! Your conduct's this, to say the least of it.

2. On Europe's sunny slopes I'm found,

But wither on Columbian ground.

3. Cease jesting with your lessons thus to mingle, Or, naughty boy, I'll make your knuckles tingle.

4. A mountain, where the noble and the wise Met with a slight, and beauty gained the prize. 5. In ancient days a swart barbarian race,

Of whose descendants Algiers yet holds trace. 6. A council held in former days, whose power Of grave decree is quoted to this hour.

7. I'll not restrict my last-choose which you

please

Hector, Wolfe, Nelson, or Themistocles.

F. L. R.

377

Call it what you like, my child,
French or English as you will,
It's just as fragrant, just as bright,
If made up with your pretty skill.
1. A little child from Scotland came;
2. Not a common Christian name;
3. Good for nothing-put it by ;
4. Too much in this apple-pie;
5. Neglected stand the harp and lyre;
6. We may dread volcanic fire;
7. Now is yours, but won't remain,
And never will come back again.

H. S.

378

Coursing o'er the wave,

When there's human life to save.

1. Emblem of all that's pure and clean ;
2. Colour opposite to green;

3. A little insect giving pain;

4. Try with all your might and main.

R. H. J.