POETRY.

THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 1878.

INo. 105 "THE CORNISH LIONS," BY JOHN BRETT ] "WHICH are the Lions ? I should call them gulls,—

What an odd picture !" " Hush ! the Times critique Speaks highly of it ; take care how you speak !"

"Well, it is pretty ; shall we put a star Against it in our catalogue, mama?"

"Give it one, dear ; keep three for Frith, R.A., His is the picture of the year, they say."

-" That lovely picture of the poor young swell ?"

"Don't pity him, a ruined roue, Rose.

That Mrs. Langtry three times over ; well,

I cannot see it,—not my style of nose.—

Esquiline Venus, hardly comme ii fact."

So on, with "if" and "an," and "aye" and "no," Till presently my sight, my hearing dulls, Or rather grows far finer, till I hear The surges lapping on the shallow sand, The sea-bird's wail,—I see the falling wave, Foam-fretted, flashing,—see the sunlight clear

Through its blue crystalline curve. Oh, joy! 1 stand

Where I can watch the blessed waters lave The seaweed-girdled boulders,—feel the spray,

Breathe the soft breeze, taste the Atlantic brine,— Basking upon the cliff the whole September day,—

Yonder, the clouds ; above, the living sky.

Painter, what strange, consummate art is thine, Thus to tempt Nature to this bustling host Here, in gay Piccadilly ! what time I Am with her, all alone, on the far Cornish coast ? M.