Is ended; fortune's final flout
Has fallen, and that gallant breast
Is still at last in well-earned rest.

It was your happy lot to blend
Sound brain and sympathetic heart;
The loyal service of a friend,
With worldly wisdom keen and tart.
Shrewd advocate and councillor keen,
You knew the world, yet pitied it;
Compassion mild, not cynic spleen
Tempered the edge of caustic wit.
Farewell! It dims much pomp and state,
_Your_ title--"Poor Man's Magistrate!"

* * * * *

AN IDYLL OF THE CROWD.

(_A Tip (after Tennyson) to Tory Topsawyers._)

Come down, O Scribe, from yonder sniffy height;
What pleasure lives in "sniff" (the Councillor sang),
In sniff and scorn, the weakness of the "swells"?
But cease to move so near the clouds, and cease
To sit a votary of the "Great Pooh-Pooh";
And come, for Labour's in the valley, come,
For Toil dwells in the valley, come thou down
And watch him; by the dim slum threshold, he,
Or hand in hand with poverty in the docks,
Or black with stithy-swartness by the forge,
Or troll-like in the mine; nor cares to walk
With Wealth and Fashion in the parks and squares;
But _follow!_ Come thou down, and let the cold
Cramp-headed cynics yelp alone, and leave
The mugwump scoffers there to shape and sleek
Their thousand paragraphs of acrid joke
That like a squirting fountain waste in air:
So waste thou not; but come; for hunger pale
Awaits thee; haggard pillars of the hearth
Appeal to thee; slum children call, and now
The Crowd's astir, with every man a Vote
To give him voice, and in that voice you'll hear
Myriads of "movements" hurrying into "laws,"
The moan of men at immemorial ills,
And murmuring of innumerable shes.

* * * * *

MY LANDSCAPE.

Calm sea, the mirror of a cloudless sky,
Blue mountains, in the purple distance fading,
Tall, dark-hued pines, through which faint zephyrs sigh,
A garden shading.

A view that might inspire a poet's voice,
Or minstrel's lute to sweetest music waken--
I came to paint this subject of my choice;
My place was taken!

I muttered angry words between my teeth;
I could not see the features of _la bella_,
I only saw a dress and cloak beneath
A great umbrella.

Perhaps some girl, her hair a touzled mop,
Plain-featured, round in shoulder, unpoet