Way these soldier-chaps make change),

Mixed with black-eyed Polish dames,

With unpronounceable, awful names;

Laces tremble, and ribbons flout,

Coachmen wrangle, and gendarmes shout,

Bless us what is the row about?

Ah! here comes Rosey's new turn-out!

Smart! You bet your life 'twas that!

No wonder that every dandy's head

Was turned by the turn-out; and 'twas said

That Caskowhisky (friend of the Czar),

A very good whip (as Russians are),

Was tied to Rosey's triumphal car,

Entranced, the reader will understand,

By "ribbons" that graced her head and hand.

Alas! the hour you think would crown

Your highest wishes should let you down!

Or Fate should turn, by your own mischance, Your victor's car to an ambulance;

From cloudless heavens her lightnings glance,

(And these things happen, even in France ;)

And so Miss Rose, as she trotted by,
The cynosure of every eye,

Saw to her horror the off mare shy, -
Flourish her tail so exceeding high,

That, disregarding the closest tie,

And without giving a reason why,

She flung that tail so free and frisky

Off in the face of Caskowhisky!

Excuses, blushes, smiles: in fine,

End of the pony's tail, and mine!

Where, with many a gaping mouth,

And fissure cracked by the fervid drouth,

For seven months had the wasted plain

10*

113

Known no moisture of dew or rain.

The wells were empty, and choked with sand;

The rivers had perished from the land;

Only the sea-fogs, to and fro,

Slipped like ghosts of the streams below.
Deep in its bed lay the river's bones,
Bleaching in pebbles and milk-white stones,
And tracked o'er the desert faint and far,

Its ribs shone bright on each sandy bar.

Thus they stood as the sun went down

Over the foot-hills bare and brown;

Thus they looked to the South, wherefrom

The pale-face medicine-man should come.

Not in anger, or in strife,

But to bring-so ran the tale