for the control of the hampers and carpet-bags at Shortpond.
He departed sorrowfully. It is to be feared that if there was one crumb of comfort on which he allowed his imagination to feed, it was on the belief that Chaser had been equally unsuccessful.
Of this morsel he was destined soon to be deprived. As he descended the steps of the house he met Chaser coming up.
“It is no use,” he said to that gentleman, “you are too late.”
“For breakfast?” inquired Mr. Chaser.
“No, for the appointment; it has been given away.”
“Yes, to me,” observed Chaser, “at four this morning.”
After this the conversation was not prolonged.
NON SATIS.
’Tis not enough to see thee, like a star
That rises on our sight when eve is clear,
Which all may view—but all must view afar.
’Tis not enough to watch thee, as the moon
Gazes on earth with stedfast face, but ne’er
May voice with voice exchange and intertune.
’Tis not enough to meet thee as by chance
In lighted rooms, and feign a cold repose,—
Whereas I tremble to thy slightest glance.
’Tis not enough to cross thee in the glare
Of day, when serried friends thy path inclose,—
Content the sunlight of thy smile to share.
No! I am jealous of all senseless things
That near and touch thee—of the fluttering wind
That dallies round with fond, familiar wings,
And dares to kiss thine eyes and lift the tress
From thy blue temple;—of the jewel blind
Upon thy bosom pillow’d, passionless.
And I could rend the flower that thou dost pluck,
And drink its odour with thy nostrils fine,
And taste its honey which the bee did suck.
Oh! I could kill thy sleek caressing hound
That feels thy hand, and blameless may entwine
Thy foot, whene’er he choose to bound.
