nor coughs released:
Or if adown those hospitable gates
Drave the strong North, or shrilled the ravening East,
And, ill-requiting, slew the wretched beast,
We nothing know; only the news is cried,
Begum is dead: we know not how he died.

Still, though the callous bards neglect to hymn
Thy praises, Begum; though, on dross intent,
The hireling sculptor pauseth not to limn
Thy spacious visage, kindly hands are bent
E'en now to stuff thy frail integument.
Then sleep in peace, Beloved; blest Sultan
Of some Rhinokeraunian Devachan.

IN SEVERAL KEYS

No. 1

'MARIE'

We hear the opening refrain,
Marie!
We thought so; here you are again,
Marie!
A simple tune, in simple thirds,
Beloved of after-dinner birds;
A legend, self-condemned as 'words,'
Marie!

She lingers by the flowing tide,
Marie;
A 'fisher-lad' is close beside
Marie;
He gazes in her 'eyes so blue';
_Marie, Marie, my heart is true_;
And then,--you do, you know you do,
Marie!--

But vain is every mortal wish,
Marie;
And 'fisher-lads' have got to fish,
Marie;
O blinding tears! O cheeks 'so' wet!
_Marie, I come again!_ And yet
I shouldn't feel disposed to bet,
Marie!

A tempest drives across the wave,
Marie;
With triplets in the treble stave,
Marie;
The player pounds. With bulging eyes
Th' excited vocalist replies;
The maddened octaves drown his cries,
Marie!

The storm is past. We hear again,
Marie,
The simple thirds, the waltz refrain,
Marie;
We only see some drifting wrack,
An empty bunk, a battered smack,
Alas! Alas!! Alack!!! Alack!!!!
Marie!

O good old words, O 'tears that rise,'
Marie!
O good young fisher-lad that dies,
Marie!
We leave you on the lonely shore;--
You wave your hands for evermore,
A bleak, disgusted semaphore,
Marie!

IN SEVERAL KEYS

No. 2

THE BALLAD OF MORBID MOTHERS

Why do you sit in the churchyard weeping?
Why do you cling to the dear old graves,
When the dim, drear mists of t