She sung--amaz'd the Sirens heard
And to assert their voice appear'd.

She play'd, the Muses from their hill,
Marvell'd who thus had stole their skill;
_Apollo's_ wit was next her prey,
Her next the beam that lights the day;
While _Jove_ her pilferings to crown,
Pronounc'd these beauties all her own;
Pardon'd her crimes, and prais'd her art,
And t'other day she stole--my heart.

Cupid, if lovers are thy care,
Revenge thy vot'ry on this fair;
Do justice on her stolen charms,
And let her prison be--my arms.

W.H.H.

* * * * *


SHAKSPEARE.

(_To the Editor of the Mirror_.)


In the Drama entitled _Shakspeare's Early Days_, the compliment which
the poet is made to pay the queen: "That as at her birth she wept when
all around was joy, so at her death she will smile while all around is