AT THE LATTICE.

ALFRED AUSTIN.

B

EHIND the curtain,

With glance uncertain,

Peeps Pet Florence as I gaily ride;

Half demurely,

But, though purely,

Most, most surely

Wishing she were riding, riding by my side.

In leafy alleys,

Where sunlight dallies,

Pleasant were it, bonnie, to be riding rein by rein;

And where summer tosses,

All about in bosses,

Velvet verdant mosses,

Still more pleasant, surely, to dismount us and remain.

AT THE LATTICE.

31

O thou Beauty!

Hanging ripe and fruity

At the muslined lattice in the drooping eve,

Whisper from the casement

If that blushing face meant,

"At the cottage basement,

Gallant, halt, I come to thee; I come to never leave."

But if those coy lashes

Stir for whoso dashes

Past the scented window in the fading light,

Close the lattice, sweetest ;

Darkness were discreetest;

And, with bridle fleetest,

I will gallop onwards, unattended, through the night.

"FAULT-MENDING."

[Extract.]

DR BARNARD.

LATELY thought no man alive

Could e'er improve past forty-five,
And ventured to assert it.

The observation was not new,

But seemed to me so just and true

That none could controvert it.

"No, sir," said Johnson, "tis not so ;

'Tis your mistake, and I can show

An instance, if you doubt it.

You, who perhaps are forty-eight,

May still improve, 'tis not too late ;

I wish you'd set about it."

FAULT-MENDING.

Encouraged thus to mend my faults,
I turned his counsel in my thoughts

Which way I could apply it;

Genius I knew was past my reach,

For who can learn what none can teach?
And wit-I could not buy it.

Then come, my friends, and try your skill;
You may improve me if you will,

(My books are at a distance :)

With you I'll live and learn, and then
Instead of books I shall read men,

So lend me your assistance.

C

33

THE ARCHERY MEETING.

THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY.

I.

HE archery meeting is fixed for the Third;
The fuss that it causes is truly absurd;

I've bought summer bonnets for Rosa and

Bess,

And now I must buy each an archery dress!

Without a green suit they would blush to be seen,
And poor little Rosa looks horrid in green.

II.

Poor fat little Rosa, she's shooting all day!
She sends forth an arrow expertly, they say ;
But 'tis terrible when with exertion she warms,
And she seems to me getting such muscular arms;