To feasts and theatres you love to go
With men of rank and, when you chance to meet.
To lounge with them about a portico
Or street.

They let you bathe and dine with them, but what
Your dullard pride will never comprehend
Is that you are their mountebank, and not

C YLLENE'S glory, heaven's pride, thou messenger with cunning tongue,
Whose golden wand with coiling snake doth splendid shine the gods among,
May thou thy stolen loves attain, fair Venus or young Ganymede,
And may thy mother's Ides adorned with bay proclaim some noble deed,
And Atlas bear a lighter load, if Carpus and Norbana now
To celebrate the nuptial day when first they met thou wilt allow.
A pious priest of wisdom he to wisdom pays his gift of love,
Sending his incense up to thee and faithful also unto Jove.

He was great with the gloves, but the lady he loves
Said boxing must now be deserted;
A Knight she has made him, and so has displayed him
As Pollux to Castor converted.

C AELIA , you love a Teuton swain,
An Asiatic stirs your pity,
For you swart Indians cross the main,
Copts flock to you from Pharos' city.

A Jew, a Scythian cavalier,
Can please you — but I can't discover
Why you, a Roman, are austere
To none except a Roman lover.

If for thy people's love thou hast a care,
And wilt a joyful issue grant to prayer,
Then, sire, give back our god: Rome grudges thee
To foreign lands though thou victorious be.
Our foemen have the Lord of Earth in sight,
And in thy face find terror and delight.

1863

I HEARD the tramp, and I heard the song,
Soldiers marching, marching along.
" Glory, Glory!" I hear it yet.
My heart was hot and my cheeks were wet.
" What shall I do when I am grown,"
I said, " with children of my own?"
" If I have a son; and he has a son;
They shall do what these have done;
And I'll love them so, I'll love them so,
That I'll buckle their swords and bid them go."

Come , join hands and swear
By earth and sea and air,
As brothers, side by side;
Troth to the sacred band,
Troth to the sacred land
Their love has sanctified —
Love, inborn, inbred,
Giving, taking and giving —
The love of the dead to the living,
The love of the living to the dead.

Run to Love's lottery! Run, maids, and rejoice:
When, drawing your chance, you meet your own choice;
And boast that your luck you help with design,
By praying cross-legged to Old Bishop Valentine.
Hark, hark! a prize is drawn, and trumpets sound!
Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra!
Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra!

Hark, maids! more lots are drawn! prizes abound.
Dub! dub a, dub a, dub! the drum now beats!

AGAINST LOVERS GOING TO WAR, IN WHICH HE
PHILOSOPHICALLY PREFERS LOVE AND DELIA, TO THE
MORE SERIOUS VANITIES OF THE WORLD .

The man, who sharpen'd first the warlike steel,
How fell and deadly was his iron heart,
He gave the wound, encountring nations feel,
And death grew stronger, by his fatal art:

Yet not from steel, debate and battle rose,
'Tis gold o'erturns the even scale of life,
Nature is free to all, and none were foes,
Till partial luxury began the strife.

Let spoil and victory adorn the bold,

ON HIS FALLING IN LOVE WITH NEAERA .

Farewell that liberty our fathers gave,
In vain they gave, their sons receiv'd in vain:
I saw Neaera, and her instant slave,
Though born a Briton, hugg'd the servile chain.

Her usage well repays my coward heart,
Meanly she triumphs in her lover's shame,
No healing joy relieves his constant smart,
No smile of love rewards the loss of fame.

Oh that to feel these killing pangs no more,
On Scythian hills I lay a senseless stone,
Was fix'd a rock amidst the watry roar,