

THE FRESH-WATER SIREN. 

 |9art tf)C jTtrst. 



" My air-built bower come and see, 

 " Stranger, come and dwell with me." 

 An armour-clad Rover is sauntering near; 

 At the Siren's sweet accents he pricks up his ear : 

 " Gramercy ! ' quoth he. " She bespeaketh me kind, 

 " And to pay her my devoirs I've almost a mind, 

 " If saint or if sinner would show me the road 

 " To this good-natured damsel's al-fresco abode. ' 



