IN SALAD DAIS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2649, 21 December 1904, Page 77

IN SALAD DAIS.

" (For the Witness.) "Tempus erat dapibus> Sodales!" — Horace. iPling the dewy wine drops high, and drovm all care and sorrow) Ganymede came tripping by, for I'd oblivion borrow. Though she prove a jade -when courted, Chloe smiles upon the bold; Time was when we laughed and sported, ere the heart grew dead and coldl la the early dawn of Manhood, Hope flushed rosy red and high; Light we reeked that with the morrow 'cherished idols paled to die. Loves grew cold, and lovers parted; kisses, phantom-like, all fled; Scorn frowned on the broken-hearted : oh, that we too joined tho dead! Yet are times when, half-forgetting what wo Buffer here to-day, Banished care ' and demon-fretting, yield to Baccb.ua' kingly sway. Let me drink to Lady Clara, fickle love, and fevered "woe! Richer, prouder, dearer, fairer, than all else 3 I used to know. Haw my feeble pulses tingle as the living pic- - ture. comes,- - ■ I can hear- her bracelets jingle at a hundred Bwellish "drums"!

i.When-tbe lights were low and shaded, ah! the ' -magic, royst'ring rout! I lay mutely pleading -mercy, -ualf in hope and- half in doubt. . Pool!" A rival rich fared bettei •with the pouting, pettish belle; Yet I never .can forget her, for I loved her passing well! ' ___— Let it go ! Though scons fly me, yet I'll feel a mad regret — Mad because she's ever nigh me, ling'ring in my mem'ry yet. Jfo! I'll drink to other torments— here's to Jim, my gallant horse ! One that shared my happy moments, in the - field and on the course. Draw the table 'neath the pine trees, let me dream beside the lake, . Drinking to -the deepest wine lees mem'ries F

cam ne'er .forsake. How can I forget, the hour when we cantered past the stand, Leading all the 'choicest flower of the horseflesh in the land! ■ And the thund'ring cries and clapping, as we flew the five-foot wall, O'er fences all were rapping, prelude to a crushing fall! . ._" Gone axe home, and hunting stables, gone axe friends and loves of yore! •'- She _ rides clothed in silk and sable, I am Veary, worn, and sore. Yefc though -far from scenes of pleasure, when the sun is shining high, Loafing .with a bushman's leisure, I can hear .a distant cry — _ Like the' roar of guns, in battle, like "the boom of waves in storm; ■* I can hear the hoofstrokes Tattle round me when the paoe was warm. And the blue lake -seems to quiver, mistily and blurred and dim, As the satins used to shiver when I made — 'my call on Jim! „ And the rustling kauri branches .seem to whistle in my ear - Like the whip-strokes on the haunches of the fav'rite- in the rear. Then a dark clou<t\swiftly chases 'cross the golden summer sun, ' - "^ And- 'there comes the sea of faces round me when the race was won. ■ Down the table silver-plated, covered -with the cre3t "Ich Dien!" ' " < I can see the gallants feted rise to "Mr Vice, the " Queen!"' t And I hear the bands burst bravely, as with brimming goblets high, Everyßritish soldier gravely flings her anthem to the sky! All! my masters, Fate's the gambler, plunging heavily and fast; Hence the broken, bush-worn rambler, sadly dreaming of the past! Don't disturb him — let him linger, happier with an empty dream, Where, he hears a voiceless singer chant beside a haunted stream. ' Though he's marked^ by melancholy, in his - solitary ways, " Pleasure tints the old-time- Folly, dreaming of his salad days!

— F. DA. C. De L'lslb.