uck Is fat,
And wise men take her as she comes:
The Bowler may be sure the Bat
Will share the sugarplums.
So never wriggle, nor protest,
Nor eye the zenith in disgust,
But, Johnson, bowl your level best,
And recollect, what must be, must!"

THE TWO KINGS.

_(Written for W.G. Grace's Fiftieth Anniversary.)_

When Arthur and his Table Round
Thought lusty thumps the best of sport, Sir,
And cups and cuffs, for all but muffs,
Were just the code the nobles taught, Sir,
Their jests were coarse, and swift their coursers,
Their throats were hoarse and strong as hawsers;
And they would shout a loud refrain
The while they pricked across a plain,
Observe this phrase just once again--
The while they pricked across a plain.

Then 'twas the sport of Arthur's Court
To hammer friendly helms with zeal, Sir,
Lo, sounding clear for all to hear,
The Tourney rang with lyres of steel, Sir!
These demigods of matchless story
For Love laid on, laid on for Glory!
Their horses flew like thunderbolts,
Or cut a brace of demi-voltes.
Observe this phrase. The mettled colts
Would cut a brace of demi-voltes.

When Arthur and his Table Round
Had lain in dust for many years, Sir,
Came cricket bats and beaver hats,
The stumps, the ball, the burst of cheers, Sir!
Thus horse-play broke on Time's rough breakers
And gentler games were hero-makers.
Men ceased to crave for olden times,
Whose daily deeds were modern crimes,
But guarded stumps, and wrote their rhymes,
And helped to keep the land from crimes.

While Arthur and his Table Round
In dreams were jousting once again, Sir,
The wit of man conceived a plan
To marry willow-wood and cane, Sir.
Thereat the Stung became the Stinger;
Thereat arrived the Century-Bringer!
Mere muscle yielded to the wrist
Poised lightly over clenching fist.
Observe the phrase. I here insist
Mere muscle yielded to the wrist.

The knights of Arthur's Table True
Wore helmets, gorgets, plumes, and greaves, Sir;
While Tourneys stayed, big sport was played
Without the joy of turned-up sleeves, Sir!
But Cricket showed in armoured showing
Without these noble players knowing,
For when at Beauty's door they tapped
They oft were at the wicket snapped.
Be sure of this. With rage was mapped
Each face when at the wicket snapped.

Remembering the Table Round,
Cricket at last begot a