But Eden's curse doth daily deal

Its certain dole,

And the old grasp upon the heel

Holds back the soul!

So, when some rousing deed's to do,

To save a nation,

Or, on the mountains, to subdue

A conflagration,

Woman! the work is not for you;

Mind your vocation!

Out from the cream-pot comes a mew

Of tribulation!

Meekly the world's great exploits leave

Unto your betters;

So bear the punishment of Eve,

Spirit in fetters!

Only, the hidden fires will glow,

And, now and then,

A beacon blazeth out below

That startles men!

Some Joan, through battle-field to stake, Danger embracing;

Some Florence, for sweet mercy's sake

Pestilence facing;

Whose holy valor vindicates

The royal birth

That, for its crowning, only waits

The end of earth;

And, haply, when we all stand freed,

In strength immortal,

Such virgin-lamps the host shall lead

Through heaven's portal!

GOING BACK TO OUR MUTTONS.

"There was an old man of Tobago,

Who lived on rice, gruel, and sago,

Till, much to his bliss,

His physician said this:

To a leg, sir, of mutton, you may go.
He set a monkey to baste the mutton,

And ten pounds of butter he put on."

"CHAIN up a child, and away he will go "; I have heard of the proverb interpreted so; The spendthrift is son to the miser,— and still,

When the Devil would work his most pitiless will,

He sends forth the seven, for such embas

sies kept,

To the house that is empty and garnished and swept:

For poor human nature a pendulum seems, That must constantly vibrate between two

extremes.

The closer the arrow is drawn to the

bow,

Once slipped from the string, all the further

't will go:

Let a panic arise in the world of finance, And the mad flight of Fashion be checked by the chance,

It certainly seems a most wonderful thing, When the ropes are let go again, how it will swing!

42

GOING BACK TO OUR MUTTONS.

And even the decent observance of Lent,

Stirs sometimes a doubt how the time has been spent,

When Easter brings out the new bonnets and gowns,

And a flood of gay colors o'erflows in the

towns.

So in all things the feast doth still follow

the fast,

And the force of the contrast gives zest to the last;

And until he is tried, no frail mortal can

tell,

The inch being offered, he won't take the

ell.

We are righteously shocked at the follies

of fashion;