FANTOCHES.

SCARAMOUCHE waves a threatening hand

To Pulcinella, and they stand,

Two shadows, black against the moon.

The old doctor of Bologna pries

For simples with impassive eyes,

And mutters o'er a magic rune.

The while his daughter, scarce half-dressed,

Glides slyly‘ neath the trees, in quest

Of her bold pirate lover's sail;

Her pirate from the Spanish main,

Whose passion thrills her in the pain

Of the loud languorous nightingale.