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Thou sayest things that others would reprove.

Gal. Indeed, Pygmalion? Then it is wrong

To think that one is exquisitely fair?

Pyg. Well, Galatea, it's a sentiment That every other woman shares with thee; They think it, but they keep it to themselves.

Gal. And is thy wife as beautiful as I? Pyg. No, Galatea, for in forming thee I took her features lovely in themselves

And in the marble made them lovelier still.

Gal. [Disappointed.] Oh! then I'm not original?

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Well-no

thou hast indeed a prototype ; But though in stone thou didst resemble

her,

In life the difference is manifest.

Gal. I'm very glad I am lovelier than

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She fears he will be lonely till she comes, And will not let me cheer his loneliness! She bids him breathe his love to senseless stone,

And, when that stone is brought to life, be dumb!

It's a strange world - I cannot fathom it! Pyg. [Aside.] Let me be brave, and put an end to this. [Aloud.] Come, Galatea-till my wife returns,

My sister shall provide thee with a home;
Her house is close at hand.

Gal. [Astonished and alarmed.]
me not hence,

Pygmalion - let me stay.

Pyg.

Send

It may not be. Come, Galatea, we shall meet again. Gal. [Resignedly.] Do with me as thou wilt, Pygmalion !

Pyg. Yes, very soon.

Gal.

She'll let me stay with thee?

Pyg.

Yes,

But we shall meet again?

and very soon?

Gal.

How very wonderful!

And when thy wife returns,

So clever!

Pyg.

And so very useful.

I do not know.

Gal.

Yes.

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Pyg.

[Aside.] Why should I hide the truth from her? [Aloud.] Alas!

I may not see thee then.

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England, stand fast; let hand and heart be

steady; Be thy first word thy last, Ready, ay, ready!

We've Raleighs still for Raleigh's part,
We've Nelsons yet unknown;
The pulses of the Lion Heart

Beat on through Wellington.
Hold, Britain, hold thy creed of old,
Strong foe and steadfast friend,
And, still unto thy motto true,
Defy not, but defend.

England, stand fast; let heart and hand be steady;

Be thy first word thy last, - Ready, ay, ready!

Men whisper'd that our arm was weak,
Men said our blood was cold,
And that our hearts no longer speak
The clarion-note of old;

But let the spear and sword draw near
The sleeping lion's den,

His island shore shall start once more
To life with armed men.

England, stand fast; let heart and hand be

steady;

Be thy first word thy last, - Ready, ay,

ready!

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TELL ME NOT OF MORROWS, SWEET

TELL me not of morrows, sweet;
All to-day is fair, and ours,

Thine and mine ;

Mar not Now with needing more.

Neither speak of yesterdays;

Lose not Now with backward gaze,

Lingering on what went before.
Watch for all to-day's new flowers,
Mine and thine,

Else to-day were incomplete.

Nay, but speak of morrows, sweet;
Lest to-day seem loss of ours,

Thine and mine,
Leaving nought to come again.

Nay, but speak of yesterdays,
Lest, forgetting trodden ways,
We have trodden them in vain.
Make one love-time of all hours,
Mine and thine,
Else to-day were incomplete.

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