And--what from poet's eye is hid, by others though unseen?-- It was the favorite palace of the lovely Fairy Queen; Adown its tender petals oft her tiny chariot rolled, And she within its fragrant folds her Elfin court did hold.

'Twas then I thought of one who blooms 'mid beauty's living flowers, Like this sweet bud among its mates within the garden's bowers, With una.s.suming, modest grace--her charms she never knew-- Superior worth her brightest charm. And, lady, is it you?

"I read these verses to Dora, and then I asked her the question propounded in the last line."

"What did she say?" inquired Tom.

"She said no!"

"Perhaps she was offended by the comparison to so humble a flower," said Seddon.

"It may have been so," said the Professor. "I then asked her a question in relation to the annexation of our destinies."

"What did she say?" asked Toney.

"She said no! I then asked her again in more unequivocal terms. I told her that I was seeking for domestic bliss and connubial felicity, and earnestly inquired if she would not a.s.sist me in the search."

"What was her reply?" asked Tom.

"She said no! And this time the dovelike Dora laughed in my face."

"After having answered no three times?" said Tom.

"Three negatives do not make an affirmative, Mr. Seddon, especially when the final negation to your very serious and sentimental proposal is accompanied by laughter. I was mortified and angry, and so I hurried home----"

"To do like Perch--procure a pint of laudanum?" inquired Toney.

"Not at all," said the Professor. "Upon arriving at my homestead I ate a very hearty dinner; for I was hungry and had a wolfish appet.i.te; after which I immediately went into the arms of Morpheus. I did not wake until next morning, when, as I stood before a mirror making my toilet, I perceived that the bald patch on my head was considerably enlarged. A fit of melancholy and poetry came upon me, and resulted in the production of some verses, which, with your permission, I will repeat."

"Do so," said Toney.

"By all means!" said Seddon.

"It is a simple little ballad," said the Professor, "in which I endeavored to mingle as much pathos as did Goldsmith in his Hermit. Its recitation has often drawn tears from very obdurate individuals, and, gentlemen, I now notify you to produce your pocket-handkerchiefs."

The Professor then recited the following stanzas:

The gentle spring is breathing Its fragrance all around, Rich with the scent of flow'rets That blossom o'er the ground; As if the glorious rainbow, When thunders rolled on high, Had parted into fragments And fallen from the sky,

And scattered o'er the meadows, And through the orchards green, Its variegated colors To beautify the scene; The while, on golden winglets, The humming-bird so gay, Moves with a fairy motion, And rifles sweets away:

So rich his purple plumage, So beautiful his crest, 'Tis to the eye of fancy As if some amethyst, Carved into a bright jewel All gloriously to deck, With its surpa.s.sing splendors, Some lovely lady's neck,

Hath felt the life-blood flowing From a mysterious spring, And fled a gaudy truant Upon a golden wing, Filled with a fairy spirit To sport upon the air, With never-tiring pinions Among the flow'rets fair.

Adown the sloping mountain, Where wave the ceders green, And ever-verdant laurel In blooming cl.u.s.ters seen, Leaps the wild, flashing streamlet With a loud shout of mirth, As though some mine of silver, Deep buried in the earth,

By hidden fires were melted Within its gloomy caves, And from its dark cell bursting, With its translucent waves, Now sparkles in the sunbeam, Now hid by ivy's shade, Till o'er a steep ledge pouring, It forms a wild cascade,

Where, dashed into bright fragments, It glitters in the beam, And with its brilliant colors Unto the eye doth seem, That showers of liquid rubies, And molten gems of gold, With sapphire and with amber, In mingling waves are rolled

O'er these high rocks in torrents Unto the vale below, Then gain a course of smoothness, And gently on do flow 'Mid banks of blooming roses And snow-white lilies fair, Where b.u.t.terflies are floating Upon the balmy air,

With many-colored winglets, O'er fragrant violets blue, And gayly sip their nectar Mixed with the honey'd dew; To gaze upon their beauties 'Twould seem as if some fay, When roving through some garden Upon a sunny day,

Had waved his wand of magic O'er rose and tulip bright, That filled with life had started Upon a joyous flight, And down the gra.s.sy meadows, And 'mid the blooming trees, To visit now their kindred, Are floating on the breeze:

While from the woodland's thickets At intervals are heard The soft, melodious music Of the sweet mocking-bird; Which from those green recesses Echoes the merry notes, The little feathered songsters Pour from their warbling throats.

Thus nature ever smiling, Each living creature gay Seems filled with sunny gladness Throughout the cloudless day; While I, a lonely bachelor, Do bear a bleeding heart, Just like a wounded wild goat When stricken by a dart.

I've seen each tie dissolving Of love and friendship sweet, Like lumps of sugar-candy When held unto the heat: My friends they all proved traitors,-- I'm told it's always so,-- Fidelity's a stranger In this rude world below.

They smoked my best havanas And drank my best champagne, And borrowed many a dollar They ne'er returned again: But soon as fortune left me, They all deserted too-- They made me half a Timon-- The sycophantic crew!

I turned from man to woman-- Sweet woman to admire!

But from the pan 'twas leaping Into the blazing fire!

I met a lovely maiden, Who looked so very kind, I thought she was an angel, But I was very blind!

Like a deceitful siren, She led me far astray; I wandered in love's mazes Until I lost my way; But when I knelt to worship, Why, then she laughed outright-- I told her I was dying, And Dora said I might.

At that I grew quite angry, And feeling partly cured, Went home and ate my dinner, And then was quite restored: I ate six apple-dumplings, Then laid me down to sleep, Nor woke until next morning, Then from my couch did creep,

And gazing in the mirror, The sight my soul appall'd, For I beheld with horror That I was growing bald: Since then I've known no pleasure!

Man's treachery I could bear, And the deceits of woman, But not the loss of hair!

"Goldsmith never wrote anything like that," said Seddon.

"Nor Tennyson, neither," said Toney.

"Tennyson be hanged!" exclaimed Tom. "I'll match Tickle against him any day."

"The composition of this poem fully developed my poetical genius," said the Professor. "I discovered that I could be a bard; and so I composed a whole book of poems."

"What did you do with it?" asked Toney.

"I published it," said the Professor. "Did you never hear of it?"

"I must candidly admit that I never did," said Toney.

"The critics cut and slashed away at my little book for about a month; and then they let it alone. It was not until several years after its publication that I heard a word in its praise; and that was under peculiar circ.u.mstances. I was looking over a lot of second-hand books on a stall at the corner of a street, when I discovered my own poems. I asked the price. The man said it was a work of rare genius and very scarce, but that as a favor I could have it for a dollar. This sounded like posthumous praise, and was very flattering. So I bought the book, and you can read it at your leisure."

"Now we are on literary subjects," said Seddon, "I must remind Toney of his promise to read his biography of Pate."

"Of whom?" asked the Professor.