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In the curious lines called "L'Envoy de Chaucer a Scogan," the poet, while blaming his friend for his want of perseverance in a love-suit, classes himself among "them that be hoar and round of shape," and speaks of himself and his Muse as out of date and rusty.
Yes; we may pass the heavenly screen, But shall we know when we are there? Who know not what these dead stones mean, The lovely city of Lierre." Here the train stopped abruptly. And from Mechlin church steeple we heard the half-chime: and Joris broke silence with "No bally HORS D'OEUVRES for me: I shall get on to something solid at once." L'Envoy
Its object is to commemorate the late auspicious marriage of the presumptive Heiress of the English crown with the young Prince of Saxe-Cobourg; and consists of a Proem, a Dream, and an Epilogue with a L'envoy, and various annotations.
"Comes round again, you see! Then L'Envoy: "'Salesman, sad is the truth I trow: Winsome walnut can never be mine. Poets are cheap. And their poetry. So Where are the wardrobes of Painted Pine? "Prosaic! As all true poetry is, nowadays. But, how I tired as the afternoon moved on!
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