THE "ARS POETICA" OF HORACE—I.

(Lines 1-23.)

Should painters attach to a fair human head
The thick, turgid neck of a stallion,
Or depict a spruce lass with the tail of a bass—
I am sure you would guy the rapscallion!
Believe me, dear Pisos, that such a freak
Is the crude and preposterous poem
Which merely abounds in a torrent of sounds
With no depth of reason below 'em.
'Tis all very well to give license to art—
The wisdom of license defend I;
But the line should be drawn at the fripperish sprawn
Of a mere cacoethes scribendi.
It is too much the fashion to strain at effects—
Yes, that's what's the matter with Hannah!
Our popular taste by the tyros debased
Paints each barnyard a grove of Diana!
Should a patron require you to paint a marine,
Would you work in some trees with their barks on?
When his strict orders are for a Japanese jar,
Would you give him a pitcher like Clarkson?
Now this is my moral: Compose what you may,
And fame will be ever far distant,
Unless you combine with a simple design
A treatment in toto consistent.

THE GREAT JOURNALIST IN SPAIN.

Good Editor Dana—God bless him, we say!
Will soon be afloat on the main,
Will be steaming away
Through the mist and the spray
To the sensuous climate of Spain.
Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land
Which is famed for its soap and Moor,
For, as we understand,
The scenery is grand,
Though the system of railway is poor.
For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold
Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes,
And the ladies, we're told,
Are a joy to behold
As they twine in their lissome fandangoes.
What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar
And murmur a passionate strain—
Oh, fairer by far
Than these ravishments are
The castles abounding in Spain!
These castles are built as the builder may list—
They are sometimes of marble or stone,
But they mostly consist
Of east wind and mist
With an ivy of froth overgrown.
A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise
On a futile foundation of hope,
And its glories shall blaze
In the somnolent haze
Of the mythical lake del y Soap.
The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air,
And the visions of dreamland obtain,
And the song of "World's Fair"
Shall be heard everywhere
Through that beautiful castle in Spain.