Deck'd all with dainties of her season's pride,
Lord! how all creatures laugh'd when her they spied,
And leapt, and danced, as they had ravish' d been,
And Cupid's self about her flutter'd all in green.

As I am still musing thus upon the calendar-
month of love and flowers, there comes
gaily floating down to me from beyond two
hundred years ago, another May ditty:

THE QUEEN OF THE MAY.

Upon a time I chanced
To walk along the green,
Where pretty lasses danced
In strife to choose a queen.
Some homely dress'd, some handsome,
Some pretty, and some gay,
But who excel!' d in dancing
Must be the Queen of May.

From morning till the evening
Their controversy held,
And I as judge stood gazing on,
To crown her that excelled.
At last when Phœbus' steeds
Had drawn their wain away,
We found and crown'd a damsel,
To be the Queen of May.

Full well her nature from
Her face I did admire;
Her habit well became her,
Although in poor attire:
Her carriage was as good
As any seen that day,
And she was justly chosen
To be the Queen of May.

Then all the rest in sorrow,
And she in sweet content,
Gave over till the morrow,
And homewards straight they went;
But she, of all the rest,
Was hinder'd by the way,
For every youth that met her,
Must kiss the Queen of May.

Two centuries have so little dimmed the
charms of these picturesque verses, that,
reproduced in Mr. Chappel s admirable
collection of Popular Music in the Olden Time,
they read and sound as trippingly and
freshly as if composed yesterday:

To THE MAYPOLE HASTE AWAY.

Come, ye young men, come along,
With your music, dance, and song:
Bring your lasses in your hands,
For 'tis that which love commands.
Then to the Maypole haste away,
For 'tis now a holiday.
Then to the Maypole haste away,
For 'tis now a holiday.

It is the choice time of the year,
For the violets now appear;
Now the rose receives its birth,
And pretty primrose decks the earth.
Then to the Maypole haste away,
For 'tis now a holiday.
Then to the Maypole come away,
For 'tis now a holiday.

Here each bachelor may choose
One that will not faith abuse ;
Nor repay with coy disdain
Love that should be loved again.
Then to the Maypole come away,
For 'tis now a holiday.
Then to the Maypole come away,
For 'tis now a holiday.

And when you well reckon'd have
What kisses you your sweethearts gave,
Take them all again, and more,
It will never make them poor.
Then to the Maypole come away,
For 'tis now a holiday.
Then to the Maypole come away,
For 'tis now a holiday.

When you thus have spent your time,
Till the day be past its prime,
To your beds repair at night,
And dream there of your day's delight.
Then to the Maypole come away,
For 'tis uow a holiday.
Then to the Maypole haste away,
For 'tis now a holiday.

Although the cheery voices that trilled
and danced to those spirited ditties have
been mute for ages, yet the May comes still
—if none yet go a-Maying. What is that
sigh, breathed long ago, by the English poet
of the Italian Rimini?

Ah, friends, methinks it were a pleasant sphere
If, like the trees, we blossom'd every year;
If locks grew thick again, and rosy dyes
Return'd in cheeks, and raciness in eyes,
And all around us vital to the tips,
The human orchard laugh'd with cherry lips!
Lord, what a burst of merriment and play,
Fair dames, were that! and what a first of May!

That keen despot, the clerk of the weather,
gave the first of May a better chance in the
olden time than he does now. The merry
date was a fortnight nearer to summer.

MY TURKISH MASTER AT SEVILLE.

I HAD been out from noon till dusk in
Seville, picking up the fragments that
remained of my great eye-feast in that city.
I was hurrying home to my hotel, to take my
first Turkish lessons of Monsieur Achille
Vielleroche, an old French officer of the
Napoleon times, who had lived a long while at
Stamboul as dragoman to the French
embassy. I was bound, I knew, shortly to the
seven-hilled city of Constantine, and I wanted
to pick up some of the Infidels' language that
I might carry it in my hand as a shield and
as a sword against the knavish Moslems of
the caravanserais and the bazaars.

Besides, I had a little time on my hands
before the boat started for Cadiz, and I felt a
sort of foolish pleasure in learning my first
oriental language (for I cannot say much of a
smattering of Hebrew) in the old city where
a Moorish king had ruled so long.

Now, Seville is a place that it requires no