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Government brief, which, sitting in judgment, he had the effrontery to flaunt in the face of the accused."

THE MAY OF THE QUEEN.

(The Land League Boy to his Mother).

You must wake and call me early; call me early mother dear;

To-morrow will be the saddest time of Ireland's sad new year.

Of all this threat'ning year, mother, the blackest, foulest, day,

For I'm to be tried by Judge May, mother, I'm to be tried by Judge May.

There's many a black, black crime, mother, they charge against your lad;

There's Boycotting and murder, and everything that's bad;

And I'm bound to be convicted, though innocent, they

say

For I'm to be tried by Judge May, mother, I'm to be tried by Judge May.

You know I wasn't there, mother, when all the row was made;

I never made a wicked speech, or lead a Land League raid;

But the judge has made up his mind to put your boy

away

For I'm to be tried by Judge May, mother, I'm to be tried by Judge May.

So wake and call me early; call me early, mother dear,

For at ten o'clock, before the Court, I'm summoned to appear.

There's little chance of justice, he's a partisan they

say

This fierce and biassed judge, mother, this Lord Chief Justice May.

THE PLAY KING.

(Not included in Mr. Tennyson's New Volume).

You may take and bill me early, bill me early, HENRY dear;

I'm going to make the biggest hit of all the coming year;

Of all the coming year, HENRY, the safest spec to pay;

For I'm going to write you a play, HENRY, I'm going to write you a play.

There's lots of blank blank verse, you know, but none so neat as mine;

There's GILBERT, and there's WILLS, and-well, some others in their line;

But none of them are Laureates, though clever in their

way;

So I'm going to write you a play, HENRY, I'm going to

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These verses had reference to the announcement that the Poet Laureate was writing a tragedy to be produced at the Lyceum Theatre.-The Cup was indeed a greater success than most of Mr. Tennyson's previous dramatic productions, but it owed its popularity to splendid acting, and the magnificent mise-en-scene, far more than to its merits as a play, beautiful as it was as a poem —It was produced on the 19th February,

In The Referee for December 2, 1882, the following parodies were published. It will be noticed that the first part imitates Cowper's John Gilpin, the second part Tennyson's May Queen, and the third part Campbell's Hohenlinden.

"I beg very humbly to submit a poem to the "royal family, the Bench, the Bar, and the "British public on the opening of the new Law "Courts."

A MEDLEY FOR MONDAY.
John Bulljohn was a citizen
Of credit and renown,

Of Volunteers a captain he

Of famous London town.

John Bulljohn's mother said, "My dear,
Though living here we've been
This goodness knows how long, yet we
Have never seen the Queen.

"To-morrow to the new Law Courts
Our sovereign does repair;"

Says John, "Good gracious! so she does-
Dear mother, we'll be there.

And ere he went to bed, J. B.

His aged ma did kiss;

And, feeling like a boy again,
Did softly warble this:

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear

To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all this famous year;

Of all this famous year, mother, the grandest, jolliest day,

For look on our Queen we may, mother, look on our Queen

we may.

There's many a loyal heart, they say, but none so true as mine,

There's Sandy and there's Dougal. across the Border line;

But none SO true as Johnny, not e'en by Alum Bay,

So look on my Queen I may, mother, look on my Queen I may.

All the Strand, dear mother, 'll be gay with flag and green,

And they're selling seats in windows for gold to see the Queen;

O long shall Johnny remember the Law Courts' opening day,

When look on the Queen he may, mother, look on the Queen he may.

In London when the Queen was low,

Too sad at heart about to go,

Or in our streets her face to show
Did loyalty fade rapidly.

But London saw another sight
When she, our liege, recovered quite,
Came, on a morning clear and bright,

To where the new Law Courts were made,
Attended by a cavalcade.

O, how the English crowd hoorayed!
And all was joy and revelry.

Then shook the sky with thunder riven,
For never heartier cheers were given,
As through the streets the Queen was driven,
Attended by her soldiery.

The longest and most important work (by many also considered the finest) of Alfred Tennyson is the collection of Arthurian Idyls, known as the Idyls of the King. These were originally published in detached parts, in somewhat irregular order, but in recent editions Mr. Tennyson has striven to arrange them in a consecutive and connected form.

The first to appear in order of date was the Morte d'Arthur, which was published in the 1842 volume, in the later arrangement of the poems this has been absorbed into the last Idyl, entitled "The Passing of Arthur."

In the original it commenced thus:

"So all day long the noise of battle roll'd
Among the mountains by the winter sea;
Until King Arthur's table, man by man,
Had fall'n in Lyonness about their Lord,
King Arthur; then because his wound was deep,
The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,
Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights,
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field,
A broken chancel with a broken cross,
That stood on a dark strait of barren land.
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one
Lay a great water, and the moon was full.

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere :
"The sequel of to day unsolders all
The goodliest fellowship of famous knights
Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep
They sleep-the men I loved. I think that we
Shall never more, at any future time,
Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,
Walking about the gardens and the halls
Of Camelot, as in the days that were.

I perish by this people which I made,—
Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again
To rule once more-but let what will be, be,

I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm
That without help I cannot last till morn.
Thou, therefore, take my brand Excalibur,
Which was my pride:

take Excalibur,

And fling him far into the middle mere:

This mission was distasteful to Sir Bedivere, who exclaims :

"And if indeed I cast the brand away,
Surely a precious thing, one worthy note,
Should thus be lost for ever from the earth,
Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.
What good should follow this, if this were done?
What harm, undone? Deep harm to disobey,
Seeing obedience is the bond of rule.
Were it well to obey then, if a king demand
An act unprofitable against himself?

The King is sick, and knows not what he does.
What record, or what relic of my lord
Should be to aftertime, but empty breath
And rumours of a doubt? but were this kept,
Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings,
Some one might show it at a joust of arms,
Saying, King Arthur's sword, Excalibur.'"

Thus much of the original must indeed be in one's thoughts ere the Voyage de Guillaume can be appreciated; it recounts the holiday trip of the Prime Minister to the north last September. It will be remembered that Mr. Gladstone was the guest of Sir Donald Currie, on board the Pembroke Castle, and that Mr. Tennyson was also one of the party.

VOYAGE DE GUILLAUME.-A FRAGMENT.

To the Editor of the St. James's Gazette.

SIR,-I have received the following lines from North Britain. Evidently it was not without reason that the Prime Minister was accompanied on his cruise by the Poet Laureate. I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

So all the year the noise of talk had roared Before the Speaker's chair at Westminster, Until King Guillaume's council, man by man Were tired to death, as also was their Chief, King Guillaume. Then, observing he was bored, The bold Sir Donald C. invited him (Sir Donald C., the last of all his knights) And bore him off to Barrow by the seaBarrow-in-Furness, with a ruined church That stood beside the melancholy waves.

Then spoke King Guillaume to Sir Donald C. : "Next session will most probably upset The goodliest Ministry of virtuous men Whereof this world holds record. Not for long Shall we contrive our schemes of policy, Meeting within the offices and halls Of Downing Street, as in the days that were. I perish by these voters which I makeAlthough Sir Andrew says that I may live To rule once more; but let what will be, be. He tells me that it is not good for me To cut down oaks at Haw'rden, as before. Thou, therefore, take my axe Exbrummagem, Which was my pride-for thou rememberest how The lustiest tree would fall beneath my strokesBut now delay not; take Exbrummagem, And fling him overboard when out at sea.'

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Then bold Sir Donald took Exbrummagem, And went, and lighted his cigar, and thought: "And if, indeed, I cast the axe away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Should thus be lost for ever from the earth,

H. H.

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Then came Sir Donald, gave the King his arm,
And brought him to the margin of the sea.
And at his call there hove a roomy barge,
Manned with a gallant crew from stem to stern;
And so they entered, and put off, and reached
The stately Pembroke Castle, and were ware
That all the decks were dense with manly forms
In naval caps and jackets, and with these
Three dames in yachting suits; and from them rose
A cheer of greeting, and they stretched their hands,
Took him on board, and laughed, and petted him.
And so they sailed; and while the sea was calm
They talked, and sang, and feasted much, and had,
In Yankee parlance, "quite a high old time."
But when the wind blew, and the waves arose,
It sometimes happened that the grand old face
Was white and colourless, and cries of "Steward!"
Proceeded from the lips of eloquence.

And like a prostrate oak-tree lay the King
Wrapped in a shepherd's plaid and mackintosh :
Not like that Guillaume who, with collars high,
From brow to boot a meteor of debate,

Shot through the lists at Westminster, and charged
The serried ranks of bold Conservatives.

From the St. James's Gazette, Sept. 19, 1883.

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In The Referee for December 2, 1882, the following parodies were published. It will be noticed that the first part imitates Cowper's Fohn Gilpin, the second part Tennyson's May Queen, and the third part Campbell's Hohenlinden.

"I beg very humbly to submit a poem to the "royal family, the Bench, the Bar, and the "British public on the opening of the new Law "Courts."

A MEDLEY FOR MONDAY.
John Bulljohn was a citizen
Of credit and renown,

Of Volunteers a captain he

Of famous London town.

John Bulljohn's mother said, "My dear,
Though living here we've been
This goodness knows how long, yet we
Have never seen the Queen.
"To-morrow to the new Law Courts
Our sovereign does repair;"

Says John, "Good gracious! so she does-
Dear mother, we'll be there."

And ere he went to bed, J. B.

His aged ma did kiss;

And, feeling like a boy again,
Did softly warble this:

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear

To-morrow 'll be the happiest time of all this famous year;

Of all this famous year, mother, the grandest, jolliest day,

For look on our Queen we may, mother, look on our Queen we may.

There's many a loyal heart, they say, but none so true as mine,

There's Sandy and there's Dougal. across the Border line;

But none SO true as Johnny, not e'en by Alum Bay,

So look on my Queen I may, mother, look on my Queen I may.

All the Strand, dear mother, 'll be gay with flag and green,

And they're selling seats in windows for gold to see the Queen;

O long shall Johnny remember the Law Courts' opening day,

When look on the Queen he may, mother, look on the Queen he may.

In London when the Queen was low,

Too sad at heart about to go,

Or in our streets her face to show
Did loyalty fade rapidly.

But London saw another sight
When she, our liege, recovered quite,
Came, on a morning clear and bright,

To where the new Law Courts were made,
Attended by a cavalcade.

O, how the English crowd hoorayed!
And all was joy and revelry.

Then shook the sky with thunder riven,
For never heartier cheers were given,
As through the streets the Queen was driven,
Attended by her soldiery.

The longest and most important work (by many also considered the finest) of Alfred Tennyson is the collection of Arthurian Idyls, known as the Idyls of the King. These were originally published in detached parts, in somewhat irregular order, but in recent editions Mr. Tennyson has striven to arrange them in a consecutive and connected form.

The first to appear in order of date was the Morte d'Arthur, which was published in the 1842 volume, in the later arrangement of the poems this has been absorbed into the last Idyl, entitled "The Passing of Arthur."

In the original it commenced thus :-
"So all day long the noise of battle roll'd
Among the mountains by the winter sea
Until King Arthur's table, man by man,
Had fall'n in Lyonness about their Lord,
King Arthur; then because his wound was deep,
The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,
Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights,
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field,
A broken chancel with a broken cross,
That stood on a dark strait of barren land.
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one
Lay a great water, and the moon was full.

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere :
"The sequel of to day unsolders all
The goodliest fellowship of famous knights
Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep
They sleep-the men I loved. I think that we
Shall never more, at any future time,
Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,
Walking about the gardens and the halls
Of Camelot, as in the days that were.

I perish by this people which I made,-
Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again
To rule once more-but let what will be, be,
I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm
That without help I cannot last till morn.
Thou, therefore, take my brand Excalibur,
Which was my pride:

take Excalibur,

And fling him far into the middle mere:

This mission was distasteful to Sir Bedivere, who exclaims :

"And if indeed I cast the brand away,
Surely a precious thing, one worthy note,
Should thus be lost for ever from the earth,

Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.
What good should fol ow this, if this were done?
What harm, undone? Deep harm to disobey,
Seeing obedience is the bond of rule.
Were it well to obey then, if a king demand
An act unprofitable against himself?

The King is sick, and knows not what he does.
What record, or what relic of my lord
Should be to aftertime, bat empty breath
And rumours of a doubt? but were this kept,
Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings,
Some one might show it at a joast of arms,
Saying, 'King Arthur's sword, Excalicar.'"

Thus much of the original mast indeed be in one's thoughts ere the Voyage de Guillaume can be appreciated; it recounts the holiday trip of the Prime Minister to the north last September. It will be remembered that Mr. Gladstone was the guest of Sir Donali Carrie, on board the Pembroke Castle, and that Mr. Tennyson was also one of the party.

VOYAGE DE GUILLAUME-A FRAGMENT.

To the Editor of the St. James's Gazzle.

SIR, I have received the following lines from North Britain. Evidently it was not without reason that the Prime Minister was accompanied on his cruise by the Pet Laureate.—I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

So all the year the noise of talk had roared Before the Speaker's chair at Westminster, Until King Guillaume's council, man by man Were tired to death, as also was their Chief, King Guillaume. Then, observing he was bored, The bold Sir Donald C. invited him (Sir Donald C., the last of all his knights) And bore him off to Barrow by the seaBarrow-in-Furness, with a ruined church That stood beside the melancholy wares.

Then spoke King Gallamme to Sir Donald C. :
"Next session will most probably upset
The goodliest Ministry of virtuous met
Whereof this world bilds record Not for long
Shall we contrive our schemes of policy,
Meeting within the Eses and balls

Of Downing Street, as in the days that were.
I perish by these voters which I make-
Although Sir Andrew says that I may

re

To rule once more; bet let what will be bel
He tells me that it is not good for me

To cut down oaks at Hawrien, as before.
Thou, therefore, take my are Extram magen.
Which was my prite-fir tava remen erest how
The lustiest tree would fall beneath my bike-
But now delay sot; take Extrasmagen
And fling him overboard when

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Then bold Sir Donald took Extrimmagen And went, and lighted has ciger, and thong: "And if, indeed. I cast the are away.

Surely a precious thing, soe way we
Should thus be lost it ever a te arh

H. H.

The King is cross, and knows not what he says.
What record, or what relic of my lord,
Should be to aftertime, but empty breath
Condensed in Hansard's books? But were this kept,
Preserved in some Mechanics' Institute,

It might be brought out by some lecturer,
Saying, King Guillaume's axe, Exbrummagem,
With which he cut down trees at Hawarden !'
So might he illustrate a stupid speech
To all the people, winning reverence."
So spake he, thinking of constituents,
And kept Exbrummagem for future use.

Then came Sir Donald, gave the King his arm,
And brought him to the margin of the sea.
And at his call there hove a roomy barge,
Manned with a gallant crew from stem to stern;
And so they entered, and put off, and reached
The stately Pembroke Castle, and were ware
That all the decks were dense with manly form,
In naval caps and jackets, and with these
Three dames in yachting sui's; and from them rose
A cheer of greeting, and they stretched their hands,
Took him on board, and laughed, and petted him.
And so they sailed; and while the sea was calm
They talked, and sang, and feasted much, and hard,
In Yankee parlance, "quite a high old time."
Bat when the wind blew, and the waves arose,
It sometimes happened that the grand old face
Was white and colourless, and cries of "Steward!"
Proceeded from the lips of eloquence.

And like a prostrate oak-tree lay the King
Wrapped in a shepherd's plaid and mackintosh:
Not like that Guillaume who, with collars high,
From brow to boot a meteor of debate,
Shot through the Ists at Westminster, and charged
The serred ranks of bold Conservatives.

From the St. James's Gazette, Sept. 19, 1883.

In the same 1842 volume, appeared "Godiva," "Locksley Hall," "Break, Break, Break," and "The Eagle," of each of which there are some excellent parodies.-The old legend of Lady Godiva, so beautifully retold in blank verse by the Laureate, has recently been sadly vulgarised by the processions at Coventry, and the following poem describes, not unfairly, the scene, in which a somewhat prominent actress stooped to sustain the part of the Lady Godica.

THE MODERN LADY GODIVA.

I journeyed by the train to Croentry;
I placed a groom with porter near the bridge,
And asked which way the pageant came, and then
Iwn it pan-twas passing strange—and this
It what they se turned the City i ingema to.

Not even were it to remove a tax
Could a Godiva rice abroad today

As the rode fork a thiwasi zen lad:
Les Campiel's Act, and Chee in brud!
Soll did the people damont le a ktowa

So was sented there sonic se brzo

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