And close into her face, with rhyming clack,
Began a Prothalamion;-she reels,

She falls, she faints! while laughter peels
Over her woman's weakness. Where!' cry'd I,
'Where is his Majesty?' No person feels
Inclin'd to answer; wherefore instantly
I plung'd into the crowd to find him or to die.

LXXXVIII.

"Jostling my way I gain'd the stairs, and ran
To the first landing, where, incredible!
I met, far gone in liquor, that old man,
That vile impostor Hum,-

So far so well,

For we have prov'd the Mago never fell
Down stairs on Crafticanto's evidence;
And therefore duly shall proceed to tell,
Plain in our own original mood and tense,

The sequel of this day, though labour 'tis immense!

ADDITIONAL "NONSENSE VERSES"

AND

CANCELLED PASSAGES OF ENDYMION.

ADDITIONAL "NONSENSE VERSES."

ON OXFORD.

I.

THE Gothic looks solemn,

The plain Doric column
Supports an old Bishop and Crosier;
The mouldering arch,.

Shaded o'er by a larch

Stands next door to Wilson the Hosier.

2.

Vicè that is, by turns,

O'er pale faces mourns

The black tassell'd trencher and common hat;

The Chantry boy sings,

The Steeple-bell rings,

And as for the Chancellor-dominat.

3.

There are plenty of trees,

And plenty of ease,

And plenty of fat deer for Parsons;

And when it is venison,

Short is the benison,

Then each on a leg or thigh fastens.

SONNET TO MRS. REYNOLDS'S CAT.

CAT! who has[t] pass'd thy grand clima[c]teric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroy'd?-How many tit bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears-but pr'ythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me-and upraise

Thy gentle mew-and tell me all thy frays
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists-
For all the wheezy asthma,-and for all
Thy tail's tip is nick'd off-and though the fists
Of many a maid has given thee many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft as when the lists

In youth thou enter'dst on glass bottled wall.

Ан!

A GALLOWAY SONG.

AH! ken ye what I met the day

Out oure the Mountains

A coming down by craggi[e]s grey

An mossie fountains

A[h] goud hair'd Marie yeve I pray

Ane minute's guessing

For that I met upon the way

Is past expressing.

As I stood where a rocky brig

A torrent crosses

I spied upon a misty rig

A troup o' Horses

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