As may a housemaid's leathern bellows mock
The rock--whelmed Titan's breathings. He no shock
Of bard-like shagginess shook to the breeze.
A modern Cambrian Minstrel hopes to please
By undishevelled dandy-daintiness,
Whether of lays or locks, of rhymes or dress.
Some bards pipe from Parnassus, some from Hermon;
Room for the singer of the Sunday Sermon!
His stimulant tepid tea, his theme a text,
Carmarthen's cultured caroller comes next!

THE WORTH OF VERSE.

AIR--"_The Birth of Verse_."

Wild thoughts which occupy the brain,
Vague prophecies which fill the ear,
Dim perturbation, precious pain,
A gleam of hope, a chill of fear,--
These vex the poet's spirit. Moral:--
Have a shy at the Laureate Laurel!

Some say no definite thought there is
In my full flatulence of sound.
Let National Observers quiz
(H-NL-Y won't have it. I'll be bound!)
Envy! _O trumpery, O MORRIS!_
Could JUVENAL jealous be of HORACE?

I know the chambers of my soul