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After a game at chess, the last for husband,
The wedding ceremonial being however
Deferred, for want of a priest, till safe return
Of the high contracting Powers to Christendom
With the drúnken jester and the drunken butler,
And wicked brother Antonio freely pardoned
Without his even so much as asking pardon
Or promising amendment or saying thánk ye;
And so breaks off, a little abrupt, the story,
Leaving us to surmise how they got home,
And wondering often whether they took with them,
Or there behind them left, poor Caliban;
And as for Ariel who can't well refuse,
Háving supplied the storm that brought it thither,
To find fair weather for the ship returning,
Hé 's to have leáve, this last turn served, to go
And shift for himself and keep clear for the future
Of witches, cloven pines, and Dukes of Milan.
Lórd, what delight the enactment of this story
By fúll grown men and women gives to children!
And how I laughed, when I was seven years old,
At all the queer things staggering Trinculo said,
And hid my head when Caliban crawled out,
And peeped again when it was Ariel flying,
And wondered why 'twas not at blindman's buff
But chess the king's son and Duke's daughter played,
And hated the bad duke, and loved the good one
With his enchanter's wand and long, striped coat!
Alás, those happy days of seven years old
For mé are fled, and with them fled, for me,
Tom Thumb and Cinderella and The Tempest!
DALKEY LODGE, DALKEY; May 15, 1855.
He king of England meets the king of France And shákes hands with him in a field near Ardres ; The Duke of Buckingham 's accused of treason, Tried and condemned, and sets off in a barge For Tower Hill, there to have his head chopped off; Katharine of Árragon, poor virtuous queen! Has hér trial too, and, being repudiated, Diés broken hearted in Kimbolton castle; Proud Wolsey blooms and ripens in the sun Of royal favor till a cloud between Hím and the sún comes, and he droops and fades And shrívels up, and begs a little earth And leáve to lay his bones in Leicester Abbey, And dies at eight p. m. and goes to - heaven; The king sees Anna Boleyn at a ball And takes her out to dance, and kisses her, And gives her Kátharine's wárm place in his bed; The yoúng queen's coronation is a sight Ángels look down upon from heaven with envy: The prayers, the benedictions, holy chrism, The ball and sceptre and the bird of peace, The happy crowds of gaping, wondering faces, The anthem and the fúll choir and the organ, The battle-ax-men and the halberdiers, The golden circlet placed by England's primate,
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Upon the fairest of the six fair brows
Whose happy fortune 'tis, one after th' other,
To please for a while the taste of scrupulous Henry;
And, not least gazed at of the brave assembly,
The heretic doctor, placed for his heresy
At the head of all the bishops and archbishops,
The same good man who, give him time enough,
Sháll, in the sight of some of those there gazing,
Abominate and abjure his heresy;
Nay, far more curious and delectable sight!
Abominate and abjure his abjuration;
A lying-in comes next, with cake and cậudle;
And thereupon a christening, where the same
Half-heretic doctor gossips, and foretelling
The blessings kind heaven has in store for the baby,
Ignóres, with true prophetic skill, the blessings
The same kind heáven has in store for the báby's mother
Ánd the wise próphet's self. So ends the story,
And what do you think it 's called ? the unfortunate duke?
Or good archbishop? or bad cardinal ?
Or meeting of their highnesses at Ardres ?
Or Kátharine's divorce? or Anna Boleyn's
Woóing, or lying-in, or coronation ?
Or happy Christening of Elizabeth ?
Nó; but it 's called, after the peg on which
The nine odd scraps are hung, King Henry the Eighth.
DALKEY LODGE, DALKEY (IRELAND); May 18, 1855.
“HERE I go up and down, hop, hop, hóp,
And from morning till night never stóp
Picking seeds up and filling my cróp;
And though Í 'm but a spárrow, and thoú
A mighty great mán, I allow,
I would not change with thee, somehow.”
“For a thing of thy size," answered 1, “Great 's thy wisdom, I'll never dený, So to live on the same way I 'll trý, As I lived years before thou wast hátched, Or the bárn, thou wast hátched in, was thatched; Pert spárrow, I hope thou art mátched.”
“Very well,” said the spárrow; “let bé;
Hadst thou not looked uncivil at me,
I'd no word said uncívil to thee,
For we 're brothers alike, after all,
Though you mén, have the fashion to call
Yourselves great and us, poór sparrows! smáll.”
Auf Wiederseh'n! politer word
I doubt not there might be,
Could one but of politeness think
When taking leave of thee.
Auf Wiederseh'n! then, dearest girl,
Since from thee I must part
Auf Wiederseh'n! not from the lips
But from the sad, sad heart.
HEIDELBERG, July 28, 1855.
HOFRATH SÜPFLE AND HIS DAUGHTER EMILIA;
ON OUR LEAVING CARLSRUHE, AUG. 16, 1855.
Adieu! kind friends; and, by these idle rhymes
Or by the hour reminded, think sometimes
of the two strángers, widely wandering pair,
With whom ye pleased your evening walks to share,
Gláddening their one short week in still Carlsruhe,
But saddening --- ah, how saddening! their adieu.