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“ Talk of Olympic Games ! They're not worth
In Providence or Ascension,
“ Aye !” cried Sir John, and with a score of
nods, Thoughtful of classical symposium,
“ There's food for Gods ! There's nectar! there's ambrosium ! There's food for Roman Emperors to eat
Oh, there had been a treat (Those ancient names will sometimes hobble us)
“ There were a feast for Alexander's Feast !
And “ Epicurius,”
That isn't poison.
“ Talk of your Spring, and verdure, and all that!
Give me green fat!
And billing turtles,
A-billing in a bill of fare !
“Of all the things I ever swallow--
It almost makes me wish, I vow,
To have two stomachs, like a cow !” And lo! as with the cud, an inward thrill Upheaved his waistcoat and disturb’d his frill, His mouth was oozing and he work’d his jaw“ I almost think that I could eat one raw !”
And thus, as “inward love breeds outward
Its callipash and callipee!
A pleasant prospect—but alack !
To bite and sup,
And nothing could be more pernicious ! The turtles fell to work, and ate each other up! Moral. Never, from folly or urbanity, Praise people thus profusely to their faces, Till quite in love with their own graces,
“ Fly to the desert, fly with me.”—LADY HESTER STANHOPE.
'Twas in the wilds of Lebanon, amongst its bar
ren hills, To think upon it, even now, my very blood it
chills ! My sketch-book spread before me, and my pencil
in my hand, I gazed upon the mountain range, the red tumult
uous sand, The plumy palms, the sombre firs, the cedars
tall and proud, When lo! a shadow pass'd across the paper like
a cloud, And looking up I saw a form, apt figure for the
scene, Methought I stood in presence of some oriental
The turban on her head was white as any driven
snow; A purple bandalette past o'er the lofty brow
And thence upon her shoulders fell, by either
jewell'd ear; In yellow folds voluminous she wore her long
cachemere ; Whilst underneath, with ample sleeves, a Turkish
robe of silk Envelop'd her in drapery the colour of new milk; Yet oft it floated wide in front, disclosing under
neath A gorgeous Persian tunic, rich with many a
broider'd wreath, Compelld by clasps of costly pearl around her • neek to meetAnd yellow as the amber were the buskins on
Of course I bow'd my lowest bow-of all the
things on earth, The reverence due to loveliness, to rank, or an
cient birth, To pow'r, to wealth, to genius, or to any thing
uncommon, A man should bend the lowest in a Desert to a
Woman! Yet some strange influence stronger still, though
vague and undefined, Compellid me, and with magic might subdued my
soul and mind; There was a something in her air that drew the