A LYRIC OF THE CUTTALOSSA. 



Come from tby haunts and tell me 

 What has my spirit thralled! 



Scarce was the prayer uttered, 

 When the Sylvan Goddess come, 



And with her presence haloed 

 And glorified the room. 



" Burnt-corked" her Grecian profile, 



Her "Grecian Bend" curved high; 

 Crimped were her flowing tresses, 



"Greek fire" was in her eye. 

 And thus she spake, "Oh, monster 1 



Who with sacrilegious hand 

 Stole a vessel from my altar. 



List while I thee command! 



Before to-morrow's noontide 

 Take thou that goblet back. 



Or fiercer pangs than ever 

 Thy recreant soul shall rack. 



« And traveler, be he tramper. 



Or Dives with his chaise, 

 Or Jehu with his wagon. 



Will curse thee day by day. 

 E'en now the roadway guardian, 



A note has posted up. 

 The fate of Haman threatening 



To the robber of ' Our Cup.' 



" If peace thou wishest, promise. 



Or by the fabled boar, 

 Ancestral curse shall reach thee 



From far Zambesi's shore. 

 Of the arch-baboon Darwinian, 



Our sire pre- Adamite- 

 Its Upas bane shall shade thee, ^^ 



Life's fairest prospects bhght. 



405 



