THE EMPEROR'S BIRD'S-NEST.

ONCE the Emperor Charlesof Spain,
With his swarthy, grave commanders,
I forget in what campaign,
Long besieged, in mud and rain,

Some old frontier town of Flanders.

Up and down the dreary camp,

In great boots of Spanish leather, Striding with a measured tramp, These Hidalgos, dull and damp, Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather.

Thus as to and fro they went,

Over upland and through hollow, Giving their impatience vent, Perched upon the Emperor's tent, In her nest, they spied a swallow.

Yes, it was a swallow's nest,

Built of clay and hair of horses, Mane, or tail, or dragoon's crest, Found on hedge-rows east and west, After skirmish of the forces.

Then an old Hidalgo said,

As he twirled his gray mustachio, "Sure this swallow overhead Thinks the Emperor's tent a shed, And the Emperor but a Macho!"

Hearing his imperial name

Coupled with those words of malice, Half in anger, half in shame, Forth the great campaigner came

Slowly from his canvas palace.

"Let no hand the bird molest," Said he solemnly, 66 nor hurt her!" Adding then, by way of jest, "Golondrina is my guest,

"T is the wife of some deserter!"

Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, Through the camp was spread the ru

mor,

And the soldiers, as they quaffed
Flemish beer at dinner, laughed

At the Emperor's pleasant humor.

So unharmed and unafraid

Sat the swallow still and brooded, Till the constant cannonade Through the walls a breach had made And the siege was thus concluded.

vast