Cruelly shouting: "This, this was the true path;

Here greatness lay, by humility guarded,

She whom thou soughtest through mountains of pride!

What avails tenderness now so belated?

What gaining love with no deed as its child?"

Whitening intenselier ever to setting

Down sank the last sun save one he should gaze on.

In the next dawning, with dull apprehensiveness,

Groped he mid recent and older remembrance,

Mingled with mad vain desires for a helping hand;

Then off reeled his soul from my speechless adieus.

Once more the whole blaze triumphed through the welkin,

Bitter in brightness in memory for ever.

VIII.

Whistler versus Ruskin Trial.

Critic John cam here to view

Ha, ha, the viewin' o't!

Lindsay's picture shop bran new,

Ha, ha, the viewin' o't!

John, he cast his head fu' high,

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