Etc. [pp. 478-483]

1 872.]
ETC.
which was in itself an uncommon compliment to both artists and beneficiary. Let us
rejoice that the winter promises so well, and
close the record for this month.
As the following rhapsodic madrigal was
picked up not far from the parlors of the
Occidental Hotel, during the stay of the
Chinese Educational Mission there, and as
the original was in the most delicate Chinese
characters, it is supposed that some heart
among the more classical and cultured of
that race in our midst was taken captive by
the bright beauty of one of the daughters of
Lai Sun. Either some malapropos adventure has deprived the adoring suitor of his
passionate sonnet, or, as is too often the case,
alas! with other than Chinese darlings, the
fascinating little witch has coolly tossed the
tender missive aside, as a bit of impertinence.
A careful translation reveals in what manner
a Chinese lover discourses to his fair iznaiorata.
Like the wild water-fowls, in mutual joy
Each upon each dependent-thus are we.
Thou art the very Goddess of the Moon In tone and measure like a pastoral.
Cheeks which have stolen the red almond's bloom,
And ruby pouting lips, and teeth like pearls.
Your body like the Lan-flower, and your heart
Like sweet and fragrant spices, and your bones
Like rare and precious stones. Your muscles as
The glittering frost, pure and transparent.
An aroma delicately distills,
Like to the Epidendrum, from your breath.
The glances of your eye are like the bright
And dancing waters of the Eastern Sea.
Your rosy, laughing face and the bright flowers
Are borrowing each from each, in turn, soft tints;
Anid fair and smooth as downy peach your flesh.
Your hair as lustrous as a mirror, and
Your coiffure rivaling in form the wings
Of locusts; and, with the phenix-headed
Pills and golden comb with pendants, is held
Firm to a shapely head. Rings adorn your
Ears, and bracelets rare clasp your rounded wrists,
And from your girdle drop the clusters of
Exquisite charms. Your brow with phenix-band
Begirt, is pure as polished ivory.
Your arching brows would mockingly conceal
The flashing brightness which they emulate.
Your plaited skirts harmonious in their folds.
Elaborate, yet modest in their kind,
Your ornaments and dress; and your carriage
Graceful as the pendant willow-twigs; and
Your robes in all the colors of the clouds,
With purple vest, and skirt of silken gauze;
48I
Richly embroidered sleeves depending down
And waving like the branches of a tree.
Your dainty feet upon the walks, hedged in
With golden lilies; your dainty fingers
Toying with the blossoms; while your voice, like
Incense to the gods, brings me in rapture
To your feet, to implore you to be mine.
THE lecture season in San Francisco has
heretofore not been remarkable for brilliancy.
Some years prior to the death of the late
beloved T. Starr King, he inaugurated a
short series of lectures on the "Poets of
America," which it was hoped would subsequently lead to the organization of a Lyceum of popular lecturers for each succeeding
winter, as in the Eastern cities of the Union.
Either from want of interest, lack of appreciation, or the numerous sources of amusement and recreation open to the public, the
plan met with a decided failure. The few
discourses Starr King delivered were well
attended by his congregation and personal
friends, and also by a few individuals interested in poetic culture. But to popularize
them was not in the power of even so gifted
a speaker. Since then we have had no united effort by the different literary societies to
form a combination strong enough to induce
trained speakers from abroad to visit us, or
to develop and encourage the talent which
is among us. For special purposes, inducements have been offered to a few men, prominent for their success in the lecture - field,
and whose qualifications for "drawing" had
been tested; and they have come and gone
-either having accomplished the object for
which they came, or disappointing the expectations of those who flocked to hear them.
In many instances their audiences, to the
question of What came ye out for to see?
might have responded, A reed shaken by
the wind- so vapid, and flat, and altogether
uninteresting have been both theme and discourse.
Gough achieved his usual crowds. He
blew his horn for "the Lord and for Jerusalem," and the public were delighted. In
rapid touches, in skillful and adroit incidental experiences, in ministry to heart and
feeling, he is quite unequaled. He has the
faculty of freshening time - worn anecdotes,
and reproducing an unvaried theme under