INSCRIPTION

FOR A LUCIFER MATCH BOX.

(II)

WHO can say what the consequence had been,
Subtle inventor of the Lucifer match,

Had Heaven but taken care in box like thine
To hide from every prying eye its fire!
Perhaps Prometheus had not yet been sent
To Caúcasus; Cranmer's right hand and left
Not éxpiated contradictory crimes,

Nór with Joan's áshes Rouen's stones been smutted;
Ephésian Dian's temple still had stood;

Swine, kine, and pretty lambs died natural deaths,
And thoú and Í our stomachs' cravings stilled
With innocent, bloodless cucumber and salad.
But Heaven cares móre to punish than prevent:
Prométheus rued in Caucasus' ice his theft;
Dian was shórn of her Ephesian glory;
Witches and saints and heretics were sublimed;
And bútchers, bakers, cooks, tobacco smokers,
Artillery, gás, and steám o'erran the world.

WEINSBERG (WÜRTTEMBERG), Sept. 22, 1855.

CLEVER people are disagreeable, always taking the adván

tage of you;

Stupid people are disagreeable, you never can knock anything into their heads;

Idle people are disagreeable, you must be continually amusing

them;

Busy people are disagreeable, never at leisure to attend to

you;

Extravagant people are disagreeable, always wanting to borrow of you;

Saving people are disagreeable, won't lay out a pénny on you; Obliging people are disagreeable, always putting you under a cómpliment;

Rude people are disagreeable, never stop rubbing you against the grain;

Religious people are, disagreeable, always boring you with points of faith;

Irreligious people are disagreeable, no better than Turks and heathens;

Learned people are disagreeable, don't go by the rules of cómmon sense;

Unlearned people are disagreeable, never can tell you what you don't already know;

Fashionable people are disagreeable, mere frivolity and émp

tiness;

Vulgar people are disagreeable, don't know how to beháve

themselves;

Wicked people are disagreeable, you 're never safe in their

cómpany;

But no people are so disagreeable as your truly good and worthy people

Slop-committee water-gruel, without a spice of wine or nutmeg, Mawzy mutton overboiled, without pepper, salt, or mústard.

Walking from TÜBINGEN to HERRENBERG (WÜRTTEMBERG), Nov. 2, 1855.

RIGHT for you 's wrong for mẻ,
If by different rules wé

Right and Wrong chance to measure;
Good for mé 's bad for you,

If we don't the same view,

Both, of paín take and pleasure.

CARLSRUHE, Nov. 11, 1855.

"STOP! stay! let's consider!" cried Írresolution, And hung báck till the boát drifted out of his reách; But Daring leaped in and laid hold of the rúdder, And steered himself safe to the opposite bánk.

WEINSBERG (WÜRTTEMBERG), Sept. 3, 1855.

SUMMER 's góne

fled away with his lilies and roses,

Long mornings and évenings, and deep glowing noón;

But lament him not thoú, for see yónder where Aútumn, Crowned with córn ear and víne branch, approaches to greét

Autumn 's góne

thee.

fled away with his vine branch and córn

ear,

And has left not one póppy in áll the bare fiéld;
But lamént him not thoú, for see yónder where Winter
To the snug house and joys of the fireside invites thee.

Winter 's góne to the bleák, frozen Nórth has retreated; The fireside's desérted, the snúg corner émpty;

But lament thou not therefore, but oút to the green bank Where Spring 's strewing violets, and list to the thróstle.

Spring 's gone and his violets are chóked on the green bank, The thróstle's song 's silent, the thórn 's no more white; But lament thou not therefore, for see where with lóng days And wreaths of fresh róses young Súmmer comes back.

Walking from POPPENHAUSEN to UNTERPLEICHFELD (BAVARIA), Oct. 20, 1855.

MARBACH.

I LOVE thee, Márbach, in the sun there lying,
Vine clád, upon the Neckar's peaceful bank,
And loved thee ere I saw thee or thy náme heard,
Theé that gav'st birth beneath yon humble roof
To the loftiest minded of Germánia's poets.
I love thy chúrch too with its perpendicular
Roof of red tiles and gay, enamelled steeple,
That, from across the way, looks down upon
The cradle of thy nursling; and, as here
I lié at eáse stretched in thy walnut shade,
On this bright, sunny day of late October,
And listen to the murmur of thy Neckar,
Blénding melódious with thy vintage song,
Think how a húndred years ago those sounds
Féll on th' awakening ear of infant Schiller,
And sigh and to myself say: Roll on, Neckar,
Another hundred years, and from thy banks
To Anna Liffey's banks perhaps shall come
Some one acquainted with my song, and ask
"Was hére his cradle?" and being answered "Yes,"
Shall also ask to see where lie my bones.

MARBACH (WÜRTTEMBERG), Oct. 26, 1855.