Salmacis, when boune a Maying,
Tall as any poplar tree,
Sweet as apple blossoms be!

Had the Amazonian Queen
Seen thee 'midst thy maiden peers,
Thou the Coronel hadst been
Of that lady's Grenadiers;
Troy had never mourned her fall,
With thine axe to guard her wall.

As Penthesilea brave
Is the maiden (in her dreams);
Ilium she well might save,
Though Achilles' armour gleams,
'Midst the Greeks; all vain it is,
'Gainst the glance of Salmacis!



WHAT FRANCESCO SAID OF THE JUBILEE--BY R. B.



What if we call it fifty years! 'Tis steep!
To climb so high a gradient? Prate of Guides?
Are we not roped? The Danger? Nay, the Turf,
No less nor more than mountain peaks, my friend,
Hears talk of Roping,--but the Jubilee!
Nay, there you have me: old Francesco once