Volume 100 — FASHION'S FLORALIA;

"London town is another affair Since HERRICK wrote his perfect rhymes."

True, sadly true, shaper of rattling rhymes, London hath changed with process of the times. Aurora now may "throw her faire Fresh-quilted colours through the aire," But our conditions atmospheric Are not as in the days of HERRICK. Nathless the Muse to-day may see Flora at urban revelry. See how the goddess trippeth from the West, Fragrant, though something fashionably drest; The Season waketh at her tread, Art lifteth a long-drooping head; Music doth make a merry din. 'Tis profanation, keeping in, Whenas a hundred Shows upon this day Spring, lightly as the lark to fetch in May. Rise, Nymph, put on fresh finery, and be seen, To come forth like the Spring-time, fresh and green! And gay as Flora. Art is there, With flowing hyacinthine hair. Fear not, the throng will strew Largess abundant upon you, When Burlington's great Opening Day is kept. Gone is thy Grosvenor rival, not unwept; But a New Nymph, with footing light, Trips it beside thee, nor hath night Shadowed sweet "Aquarelle" whose skill, As of a Water-Nymph, is still Well to the fore. Pipe up! playing means paying, When Fashion's Urban Flora goes a-Maying. Come, my CORINNA, come; and, coming, mark How each street turns a grove, each square a park, Made green and trimmed with trees: see how The pinky hawthorn decks the bough! Each Bond Street porch, or door, ere this Of Art a Tabernacle is; Nor Art alone. With May is interwove Seaweed, which Neptune's favourites love. SWINBURNE should sing in stanzas fleet, How NELSON may, at Chelsea, meet ARMSTRONG! Sound conch-shell! Let's obey Thy Proclamation made for May. Wild marine whiffs from the salt sea are straying, And the brine greets us as we go a-Maying. There's not a London-Teuton but this day Hath a new welcome for the English May. Germania from her distant home In Flora's train this year doth come. She hath despatched her country's cream Of things, to make the Cockney dream. Neptune and she have wooed and plighted troth, And her we give May-welcome, nothing loth, As many a welcome we have given To France, Spain, Italy! War hath riven Many true hearts, but we're content Of Peace to make experiment. Blow Teuton horn—(not like "Hernani's" braying!)— It makes new music as we go a-Maying! Come, let us go, while May is in its prime, And make the best of the brief Season's time. HERRICK'S CORINNA might not see An Urban May Queen such as we Behold disport in our rare sun. Rouse, Nymph! The Season is begun! We'll trust no blizzard, and no boreal rain May mar "Our Opening Day." Sound flutes again! Pipe, Sir FREDERICK! Ah, well played! Tootle thy new strains, fair Maid. Blow, oh Briny One, with might! Teuton BRUNEHILD, glad our sight! Fashion's Floralia, Nymph, invite our straying; Come, my CORINNA, come; let's go a-Maying!

LIKA JOKO makes us laugh, Ha! ha! the humour o't! With caricature and caustic chaff; He! he! the humour o't! Parliament strikes some as slow, LIKA JOKO deems not so; Visit his St. Stephen's Show! Humph! humph! the humour o't! GLADSTONE stern and GLADSTONE staid, Ha! ha! the humour o't! GLADSTONE in war-paint arrayed, He! he! the humour o't! GLADSTONE "Out" and GLADSTONE "In," GLADSTONE with colossal chin, Giant collars plunged within, Humph! humph! the humour o't! SMITH with bland perennial smile, Ha! ha! the humour o't! BALFOUR, pet of the Green Isle, He! he! the humour o't! HARCOURT, big as Babel's tower, GOSCHEN, with myopic glower, JOSEPH of the orchid-flower. Humph! humph! the humour o't! How they muster, how they "tell," Ha! ha! the humour o't! Woes of the Division Bell, He! he! the humour o't! All—from Prayers to "Who goes Home?" O'er St. Stephens you may roam; LIKA JOKO bids you. Come! Humph! humph! the humour o't! LIKA JOKO is a wag, Ha! ha! the humour o't! All the tricks are in his bag, He! he! the humour o't! He can mimic, he can mime, Draw, and act, and—what is prime— Keep you laughing all the time. Humph! humph! the humour o't!