In short when I’ve a smattering of elementary strategy,
  You’ll say a better Major-Gener_al_ has never sat a gee—­
  For my military knowledge, though I’m plucky and adventury,
  Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century,
  But still in learning vegetable, animal and mineral,
  I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral.

THE HEAVY DRAGOON.

  If you want a receipt for that popular mystery
    Known to the world as a Heavy Dragoon,
  Take all the remarkable people in history,
    Rattle them off to a popular tune! 
  The pluck of Lord Nelson on board of the Victory—­
    Genius of Bismarck devising a plan;
  The humor of Fielding (which sounds contradictory)—­
    Coolness of Paget about to trepan—­
  The grace of Mozart, that unparalleled musico—­
    Wit of Macaulay, who wrote of Queen Anne—­
  The pathos of Paddy, as rendered by Boucicault—­
    Style of the Bishop of Sodor and Man—­
  The dash of a D’Orsay, divested of quackery—­
  Narrative powers of Dickens and Thackeray
  Victor Emmanuel—­peak-haunting Peveril—­
  Thomas Aquinas, and Doctor Sacheverell—­
    Tupper and Tennyson—­Daniel Defoe—­
    Anthony Trollope and Mister Guizot!

    Take of these elements all that are fusible,
    Melt them all down in a pipkin or crucible,
    Set them to simmer and take off the scum,
    And a Heavy Dragoon is the residuum!

  If you want a receipt for this soldierlike paragon,
    Get at the wealth of the Czar (if you can)—­
  The family pride of a Spaniard from Arragon—­
    Force of Mephisto pronouncing a ban—­
  A smack of Lord Waterford, reckless and rollicky—­
    Swagger of Roderick, heading his clan—­
  The keen penetration of Paddington Pollaky—­
    Grace of an Odalisque on a divan—­
  The genius strategic of Caesar or Hannibal—­
  Skill of Lord Wolseley in thrashing a cannibal
  Flavor of Hamlet—­the Stranger, a touch of him—­
  Little of Manfred, (but not very much of him)—­
    Beadle of Burlington—­Richardson’s show;
    Mr. Micawber and Madame Tussaud!

    Take of these elements all that are fusible,
    Melt them all down in a pipkin or crucible,
    Set them to simmer and take off the scum,
    And a Heavy Dragoon is the residuum!

ONLY ROSES!

  To a garden full of posies
    Cometh one to gather flowers,
    And he wanders through its bowers
  Toying with the wanton roses,
    Who, uprising from their beds,
    Hold on high their shameless heads
  With their pretty lips a-pouting,
  Never doubting—­never doubting
    That for Cytherean posies
    He would gather aught but roses!

  In a nest of weeds and nettles,
    Lay a violet, half hidden,
    Hoping that his glance unbidden
  Yet might fall upon her petals,
    Though she lived alone, apart,
    Hope lay nestling at her heart,
  But, alas! the cruel awaking
  Set her little heart a-breaking,
    For he gathered for his posies
    Only roses—­only roses!