AGAMEMNON.

About a king I have to tell, Of all the woes that him befell Through those who should have served him well, Poor Agamemnon!

How he was huffed and cuffed about, And tossed from windows, in and out, With jest and gibe and eldritch shout, Poor Agamemnon!

Of worsted was the monarch made, Of gayest colors neatly laid In each imaginable shade, Poor Agamemnon!

His trousers were of scarlet hue, His jacket of celestial blue, With snow-white tunic peeping through, Poor Agamemnon!

When he was young and in his prime, On Christmas tree, in Christmas time, He glowed like bird of tropic clime, Poor Agamemnon!

His swarthy cheek, his beard of brown, His gay attire and golden crown, Showed him a king of high renown, Poor Agamemnon!

The children, learning then to pore O'er Father Homer's G.o.d-like lore, Cried, "See! the king of men once more, Great Agamemnon!

Now, when we play the siege of Troy, Achilles, Hector, Ajax boy, With us the fighting he'll enjoy, Great Agamemnon!"

But well-a-day! the war began, And Greek and Trojan, man to man, In G.o.d-like fury raged and ran, Poor Agamemnon!

'Twas Ajax seized the king, I trow, And, using him as weapon now, Did smite bold Hector on the brow, Poor Agamemnon!

Then fierce and fell the contest grew; From hand to hand the monarch flew, Still clutched and hurled with fury new, Poor Agamemnon!

His beaded eyes wept tears of shame, His worsted cheeks with wrath did flame; In vain he called each hero's name, Poor Agamemnon!

At length great Hector seized the king And gave his mighty arm a swing, Then upward soared with sudden fling, Poor Agamemnon!

Upon the high-pitched roof fell he, And there, from Greek and Trojan free, He lay for all the world to see, Poor Agamemnon!

The fierce sun beat upon his head, The rain washed white his trousers red, The moon looked down on him and said, "Poor Agamemnon!"

His gold and blue were gray and brown, When Ajax, chief of high renown, The roof-tree scaled, and brought him down, Poor Agamemnon!

And now within the nursery, In doll-house parlor you may see His dim and faded majesty, Poor Agamemnon!

And still each little naughty boy, Ranging the cupboards for some toy, Cries out, "Aha! the siege of Troy!

Poor Agamemnon!"

THE WEDDING.

Blue-bell, bonny bell, ring for the wedding!

Gallant young Hyacinth marries the Rose.

Here we all wait for the wedding procession, Standing up high on our tippy-toe-toes.

Blue-bell, bonny bell, ring for the wedding!

First the three ushers on gra.s.shoppers ride,-- c.o.xcomb, Larkspur, and gallant Sweet William, Handsome young dandies as ever I spied.

Here in a coach come the bride's rich relations,-- Old Madam Damask and old Mr. Moss; Greatly I fear they approve not the marriage, Else they'd not look so uncommonly cross.

Here comes His Excellence Baron de Goldbug, Leading the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Snail; Feathers and fringe on the top of her bonnet, Roses and rings on the end of her tail.

Blue-bell, bonny bell, ring for the wedding!

Here come the bridesmaids, by two and by two; Gay little Primrose, fair little Snowdrop, Peachblossom, Jasmine, and Eglantine too.

Last come the lovers, wrapped up in each other, Thinking of love, and of little beside.

Blue-bell, bonny bell, ring for the wedding!

Health and long life to the beautiful bride!

SWING SONG.

As I swing, as I swing, Here beneath my mother's wing, Here beneath my mother's arm, Never earthly thing can harm.

Up and down, to and fro, With a steady sweep I go, Like a swallow on the wing, As I swing, as I swing.

As I swing, as I swing, Honey-bee comes murmuring, Humming softly in my ear, "Come away with me, my dear!

In the tiger-lily's cup Sweetest honey we will sup."

Go away, you velvet thing!

I must swing! I must swing!

As I swing, as I swing, b.u.t.terfly comes fluttering, "Little child, now come away 'Mid the clover-blooms to play; Clover-blooms are red and white, Sky is blue, and sun is bright.

Why then thus, with folded wing, Sit and swing, sit and swing?"

As I swing, as I swing, Oriole comes hovering.

"See my nest in yonder tree!

Little child, come work with me.

Learn to make a perfect nest, That of all things is the best.

Come! nor longer loitering Sit and swing, sit and swing!"

As I swing, as I swing, Though I have not any wing, Still I would not change with you, Happiest bird that ever flew.

b.u.t.terfly and honey-bee, Sure 'tis you must envy me, Safe beneath my mother's wing As I swing, as I swing.

THE LITTLE COSSACK.

The tale of the little Cossack, Who lived by the river Don: He sat on a sea-green ha.s.sock, And his grandfather's name was John.

His grandfather's name was John, my dears, And he lived upon bottled stout; And when he was found to be not at home, He was frequently found to be out.

The tale of the little Cossack,-- He sat by the river-side, And wept when he heard the people say That his hair was probably dyed.

That his hair was probably dyed, my dears, And his teeth were undoubtedly sham; "If this be true," quoth the little Cossack, "What a poor little thing I am!"

The tale of the little Cossack,-- He sat by the river's brim, And he looked at the little fishes, And the fishes looked back at him.

The fishes looked back at him, my dears, And winked at him, which was wuss; "If this be true, my friend," they said, "You'd better come down to us."