VI.

Here you have it, dry in the sun,

With all the binding all of a blister,

And great blue spots where the ink has run,
And reddish streaks that wink and glister
O'er the page so beautifully yellow-

Oh, well have the droppings played their tricks! Did he guess how toadstools grow, this fellow? Here's one stuck in his chapter six !

VII.

How did he like it when the live creatures
Tickled and toused and browsed him all over,
And worm, slug, eft, with serious features,
Came in, each one, for his right of trover;
When the water-beetle with great blind deaf face
Made of her eggs the stately deposit,

And the newt borrowed just so much of the preface
As tiled in the top of his black wife's closet.

VIII.

All that life, and fun, and romping,

All that frisking, and twisting, and coupling, While slowly our poor friend's leaves were swamping, And clasps were cracking, and covers suppling! As if you had carried sour John Knox

To the play-house at Paris, Vienna, or Munich, Fastened him into a front-row box,

And danced off the ballet with trousers and tunic.

IX.

Come, old martyr! What, torment enough is it? Back to my room shall you take your sweet self! Good-bye, mother-beetle; husband-eft, sufficit!

See the snug niche I have made on my shelf: A.'s book shall prop you up, B.'s shall cover you, Here's C. to be grave with, or D. to be gay, And with E. on each side, and F. right over you, Dry-rot at ease till the Judgment-day!

THE LABORATORY.

[ANCIEN RÉGIME.]

I.

Now that I, tying thy glass mask tightly,

May gaze thro' these faint smokes curling whitely,
As thou pliest thy trade in this devil's-smithy—
Which is the poison to poison her, prithee?

II.

He is with her; and they know that I know

Where they are, what they do they believe my tears

flow

While they laugh, laugh at me, at me fled to the drear Empty church, to pray God in, for them!—I am here.

III.

Grind away, moisten and mash up thy paste,
Pound at thy powder-I am not in haste!
Better sit thus, and observe thy strange things,
Than go where men wait me and dance at the King's.

IV.

That in the mortar-you call it a gum?

Ah, the brave tree whence such gold oozings come! And yonder soft phial, the exquisite blue,

Sure to taste sweetly-is that poison too?

V.

Had I but all of them, thee and thy treasures,
What a wild crowd of invisible pleasures!
To carry pure death in an earring, a casket,
A signet, a fan-mount, a filagree-basket!

VI.

Soon, at the King's, a mere lozenge to give,
And Pauline should have just thirty minutes to live!
But to light a pastille, and Elise, with her head,
And her breast, and her arms, and her hands, should
drop dead!

VII.

Quick-is it finished? The colour's too grim
Why not soft like the phial's, enticing and dim?
Let it brighten her drink, let her turn it and stir,
And try it and taste, ere she fix and prefer!

VIII.

What a drop! She's not little, no minion like meThat's why she ensnared him: this never will free The soul from those strong, great eyes-say, "No!" To that pulse's magnificent come-and-go.

IX.

For only last night, as they whispered, I brought
My own eyes to bear on her so, that I thought
Could I keep them one half minute fixed, she would

fall

Shrivelled; she fell not; yet this does it all!

X.

Not that I bid you spare her the pain!
Let death be felt and the proof remain ;
Brand, burn up, bite into its grace-
He is sure to remember her dying face!

XI.

Is it done? Take my mask off! Nay, be not morose,
It kills her, and this prevents seeing it close:
The delicate droplet, my whole fortune's fee—
If it hurts her, beside, can it ever hurt me?

XII.

Now, take all my jewels, gorge gold to your fill,
You may
kiss me, old man, on my mouth if you will!
But brush this dust off me, lest horror it brings

Ere I know it-next moment I dance at the King's!

THE CONFESSIONAL.

[SPAIN.]

I.

It is a lie their priests, their pope,

Their saints, their . . . all they fear or hope
Are lies, and lies-there! thro' my door
And ceiling, there! and walls and floor,
There, lies, they lie, shall still be hurled,
Till spite of them I reach the world!

II.

You think priests just and holy men !
Before they put me in this den,
I was a human creature too,

With flesh and blood like one of you,
A girl that laughed in beauty's pride
Like lilies in your world outside.

III.

I had a lover-shame avaunt!

This poor wrenched body, grim and gaunt,

Was kissed all over till it burned,

By lips the truest, love e'er turned

His heart's own tint: one night they kissed

My soul out in a burning mist.