A BALLADE OF MONTAIGNE

I SIT before the firelight's glow
With all the world in apogee,
And con good Master Florio
With pipe a-light; and as I see
Queen Bess herself with book a-knee,
Reading it o'er and o'er again,
Here, 'neath my cosy mantel-tree,
I smoke my pipe and read Montaigne.
Now howls the wind and drives the snow;
The traveler shivers on the lea;
While, with my precious folio,
Behold a happy devotee
To book and warmth and reverie!
The blast upon the window-pane
Disturbs me not, as trouble-free,
I smoke my pipe and read Montaigne.
I am content, and thus I know
A mind as calm as summer sea,—
A heart that stranger is to woe.
To happiness I hold the key
In this rare, sweet philosophy;
And while the Fates so fair ordain,
Well pleased with Destiny's decree,
I smoke my pipe and read Montaigne.
ENVOY
Dear Prince! aye, more than prince to me,
Thou monarch of immortal reign!
Always thy subject I would be,
And smoke my pipe and read Montaigne!

THE CRIMINAL

CRIME flourishes throughout the land,
And bids defiance to the law,
And wicked deeds on every hand
O'erwhelm our souls with awe!
I know one hardened criminal
Whose maidenhood with crime begins;
Who, safe behind a prison wall,
Should expiate her sins.
She is a thief whene'er she smiles,
For then she steals my heart from me,
And keeps it with a maiden's wiles,
And never sets it free.
She plunders sighs from humankind,
She pilfers tears I would not weep,
She robs me of my peace of mind,
And she purloins my sleep.
Of lawless ways she stands confessed,
And is a burglar bold whene'er
She finds a weakness in my breast,
And slyly enters there.
A gambler she, whose arts entrance,
Whose victims yield without demur;
Content to play Love's game of chance
And lose their hearts to her.
A graver crime is hers; for, when
Her matchless beauty I admire,
Of arson she is guilty then,
And sets my heart on fire.
A bandit, preying on mankind,
Her captives by the score increase;
No hand can e'er their chains unbind,
No ransom bring release.
She is a cruel murderess
Whene'er her eyes send forth a dart,
And as she holds me in duress
It stabs me to the heart.
Crime flourishes throughout the land,
And bids defiance to the law,
And wicked deeds on every hand
O'erwhelm our souls with awe!