his staff upon the ground--
"Ho, there, within! Hast wares to sell?
Or slumber'st, having dined too well?"
"'Dined,'" quoth the man, with angry eyes,
"How should I dine when no one buys?"
"Nay," said the other, answering low,--
"Nay, I but jested. Is it so?
Take then this coin, ... but take beside
A counsel, friend, thou hast not tried.
This craft of thine, the mart to suit,
Is too refined,--remote,--minute;
These small conceptions can but fail;
'Twere best to work on larger scale,
And rather choose such themes as wear
More of the earth and less of air,
The fisherman that hauls his net,--
The merchants in the market set,--
The couriers posting in the street,--
The gossips as they pass and greet,--
These--these are clear to all men's eye
Therefore with these they sympathize.
Further (neglect not this advice!)
Be sure to ask three times the price."

The Carver sadly shook his head;
He knew 'twas truth the Caliph said.
From that day forth his work was planned
So that the world might understand.
He carved it deeper, and more plain;
He carved it thrice as large again;
He sold it, too, for thrice the cost;
--Ah, but the Artist that was lost!

TO AN UNKNOWN BUST IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.

"_Sermons in stones._"

Who were you once? Could we but guess,
We might perchance more boldly
Define the patient weariness
That sets your lips so coldly;
You "lived," we know, for blame and fame;
But sure, to friend or foeman,
You bore some more distinctive name
Than mere "B. C.,"--and "Roman"?

Your pedestal should help us much.
Thereon your acts, your title,
(Secure from cold Oblivion's touch!)
Had doubtless due recital;
Vain hope!--not even deeds can last!
That stone, of which you're _minus_,
Maybe with all your virtues past
Endows ... a TIGELLINUS!

We seek it not; we should not find.
But still, it needs no magic
To tell you wore, like most mankind,
Your comic mask and tragic;
And held that things were false and true,
Felt angry or forgiving,
As step by step you stumbled through
This life-long task ... of living!

You tried the _cul-de-sac_ of Thought;
The _montagne Russe_ of Pleasure;
You found the best Ambition brought
Was strangely short of measu