[Illustration:  PL.  VII.  Lady rouging herself:  she holds a mirror and
                        rouge-pot. 
                        —­FROM A PAPYRUS, TURIN.]

[Illustration:  Dancing girl turning a back somersault.—­NEW KINGDOM.]

In order to keep his intellect undulled by the routine of his dreary work, Matthew Arnold was wont to write a few lines of poetry each day.  Poetry, like music and song, is an effective dispeller of care; and those who find Omar Khayyam or “In Memoriam” incapable of removing the of burden of their woes, will no doubt appreciate the “Owl and the Pussy-cat,” or the Bab Ballads.  In some form or other verse and song are closely linked with happiness; and a ditty from any age has its interests and its charm.

“She gazes at the stars above: 
I would I were the skies,
That I might gaze upon my love
With such a thousand eyes!”

That is probably from the Greek of Plato, a writer who is not much read by the public at large, and whose works are the legitimate property of the antiquarian.  It suffices to show that it is not only to the moderns that we have to look for dainty verse that is conducive to a light heart.  The following lines are from the ancient Egyptian:—­

“While in my room I lie all day
In pain that will not pass away,
The neighbours come and go. 
Ah, if with them my darling came
The doctors would be put to shame: 
She understands my woe.”

Such examples might be multiplied indefinitely; and the reader will admit that there is as much of a lilt about those which are here quoted as there is about the majority of the ditties which he has hummed to himself in his hour of contentment.  Here is Philodemus’ description of his mistress’s charms:—­

“My lady-love is small and brown;
My lady’s skin is soft as down;
Her hair like parseley twists and turns;
Her voice with magic passion burns....”

And here is an ancient Egyptian’s description of not very dissimilar phenomena:—­

“A damsel sweet unto the sight,
A maid of whom no like there is;
Black are her tresses as the night,
And blacker than the blackberries.”

Does not the archaeologist perform a service to his contemporaries by searching out such rhymes and delving for more?  They bring with them, moreover, so subtle a suggestion of bygone romance, they are backed by so fair a scene of Athenian luxury or Theban splendour, that they possess a charm not often felt in modern verse.  If it is argued that there is no need to increase the present supply of such ditties, since they are really quite unessential to our gaiety, the answer may be given that no nation and no period has ever found them unessential; and a light heart has been expressed in this manner since man came down from the trees.