A PEACOCK

By what sweet craffc, in subfcly-altering way, Has your exubérant plumage caught from day, From night, from meadowy verdure, from ail flowers, That sumptuous iridescence wk*>se rare spell Your shape with such warni sheeny luxury dowers, Where ever-mellowing colors meet and play f The magie of your beauty alone sliould dwell In lovely illusive realms of fairy-îore ! At languorous leisure you sliould pace before

Some îiiige-donied palace whose long marble walîs7

Rick in pale sculpturings, hide froni outward eyes

A sorceiess-queen, with ermined velvets elad;

While np in one lone tower a princes* calls,

With silvery voice unutterably sad,

Her twelveswan-brothers journeying througli far skies!

Edgar Fawcett. *

* My erudite and kind friend, George Sfcewart, Jr., Esq., to? whom I am indebted for a copy of this poem, when sending it to me, wrote : " Mr Edgar Fawcett, of New York, is a rising and very charming poet, reminding one, in a pleasant way, of Mr. Browning and Mr. Swinburne in their loftier moods."

It will be ob-erved that ihese lines are a satire on a certain class of society in the United States. The title and phraseology are most à propos and consistent with the idea developed.

Having resided a long time in the wStates, and knowing there many a "peacock" (for this créature is more frequently met with in the North American Republic than in any otherpart of the world), I hâve the assurance, which I would convey to my readers, that the above is not merely a pompous ebullition but a faithful pourtrayal of the " sumptuous iridescence " and " ever-mellowing colors " which as I hâve said, are there often found.

El C de P-R.