in these lonely recesses
With thee I shall cast in my lot;
Shall feel thy endearing caresses,
Forgetting all else and forgot.

But I met a young couple "proposing"
On the top of the sunny Languard;
I surprised an old gentleman dozing,
"Times" in hand, on the heights of Fort Bard.
In the fir woods of sweet Pontresina
Picnic papers polluted the walks;
On the top of the frosty Bernina
I found a young mountain of--corks.

I trod, by the falls of the Handeck,
On the end of a penny cigar;
As I roamed in the woods above Landeck
A hair-pin my pleasure did mar:
To the Riffel in vain I retreated,
Mr. Gaze and the Gazers were there;
On the top of the Matterhorn seated
I picked up a lady's back hair!

From the Belle Vue in Thun I was hunted
By "'Arry" who wished to play pool;
On the Col du Bonhomme I confronted
The whole of a young ladies' school.
At Giacomo's Inn in Chiesa
I was asked to take shares in a mine;
With an agent for "Mappin's new Razor"
I sat down at Baveno to dine.

On the waves of Lake Leman were floating
Old lemons (imagine my feelings!),
The fish in Lucerne were all gloating
On cast-away salads and peelings;
And egg-shells and old bones of chicken
On the shore of St. Moritz did lie:
My spirit within me did sicken--
Sweet Solitude, where shall I fly?

Disconsolate, gloomy, and undone
I take in the "Dilly" my place;
By Zurich and Basel to London
I rush, as if running a race.
My quest and my troubles are over;
As I drive through the desolate street
To my Club in Pall Mall, I discover
Sweet Solitude's summer retreat.

MEDITATIONS OF A

CLASSICAL MAN ON A MATHEMATICAL PAPER

DURING A LATE FELLOWSHIP EXAMINATION.

Woe, woe is me! for whither can I fly?
Where hide me from Mathesis' fearful eye?
Where'er I turn the Goddess haunts my path,
Like grim Megoera in revengeful wrath:
In accents wild, that would awake the dead,
Bids me perplexing problems to unthread;
Bids me the laws of _x_ and _y_ to unfold,
And with "dry eyes" dread mysteries behold.
Not thus, when blood maternal he had shed,
The Furies' fangs Orestes wildly fled;
Not thus Ixion fears the falling stone,
Tisiphone's red lash, or dark Cocytus' moan.
Spare me, Mathesis, though thy foe I be,
Though at thy altar ne'er I bend the knee,
Though o'er thy "Asses' Bridge