In some audacious print began;
The fact is that he took to drink,
He always was that sort of man.
And as for ALFRED, why, of course
You snubbed him; but was that a crime,
That he should go and call you names,
And print his atrabilious rhyme?

Then, again, was the _Amy_ of _Locksley Hall_ quite as shallow-hearted and
so forth as the angry rhymester declares? It will probably turn out that
she was not. Hence the verses should run in this fashion:--

And I said, "My Cousin AMY, speak the truth, my heart to ease.
Shall it be by banns or license?" And she whispered, "Which you please."
Love took up the glass of Time and waved it gaily in the air,

Married life was sweet at Number Twenty-Six in Camden Square.

AMY faithless! Bless your heart, Sir, that was not the case at all:

It was pure imagination that I wrote in Locksley Hall.

[Illustration: _George_ (_about to enjoy the first new-laid Egg from the
recently set-up Fowl-house_). "WHY--CONF--THEY'VE BOILED THE PORCELAIN
NEST-EGG!"]

This process will doubtless have to be applied to many of the poems, but we
must leave the congenial task to the Laureate.

* * * * *