A Late Scene At Swanage.

[1]             regnis EX sul ademptis.--Verg. 1827.     To Swanage--that neat little town in whose bay         Fair Thetis shows off in her best silver slippers--     Lord Bags[2] took his annual trip t'other day,         To taste the sea breezes and chat with the dippers.     There--learned as he is in conundrums and laws--         Quoth he to his dame (whom he oft plays the wag on),         "Why are chancery suitors like bathers?"--"Because         Their suits are put off, till they haven't a rag on."     Thus on he went chatting--but, lo! while he chats,         With a face full of wonder around him he looks;     For he misses his parsons, his dear shovel hats,         Who used to flock round him at Swanage like rooks.     "How is this, Lady Bags?--to this region aquatic     "Last year they came swarming to make me their bow,     "As thick as Burke's cloud o'er the vales of Carnatic,     "Deans, Rectors, D.D.'s--where the devil are they now?"     "My dearest Lord Bags!" saith his dame, "can you doubt?         "I am loath to remind you of things so unpleasant;     "But don't you perceive, dear, the Church have found out         "That you're one of the people called Ex's, at present?"     "Ah, true--you have hit it--I am, indeed, one         "Of those ill-fated Ex's (his Lordship replies),     "And with tears, I confess--God forgive me the pun!--         "We X's have proved ourselves not to be Y's."