PANTOMIME.

PIERROT, no sentimental swain,

Washes a pâté down again

With furtive flagons, white and red.

Cassandre, to chasten his content,

Greets with a tear of sentiment

His nephew disinherited.

That blackguard of a Harlequin

Pirouettes, and plots to win

His Colombine that flits and flies.

Colombine dreams, and starts to find

A sad heart sighing in the wind,

And in her heart a voice that sighs.