_Shep._ Lord, what is she that can so turn and wind?

_Echo._ Wind.

_Shep._ If she be wind, what stills her when she blows?

_Echo._ Blows.

_Shep._ But if she bang again, still should I bang her?

_Echo._ Bang her.

_Shep._ Is there no way to moderate her anger?

_Echo._ Hang her.

_Shep._ Thanks, gentle Echo! right thy answers tell What woman is and how to guard her well.

_Echo._ Guard her well.

ECHO AND THE LOVER.

_Lover._ Echo! mysterious nymph, declare Of what you're made, and what you are.

_Echo._ Air.

_Lover._ 'Mid airy cliffs and places high; Sweet Echo! listening love, you lie.

_Echo._ You lie.

_Lover._ Thou dost resuscitate dead sounds-- Hark! how my voice revives, resounds!

_Echo._ Zounds!

_Lover._ I'll question thee before I go-- Come, answer me more apropos!

_Echo._ Poh! Poh!

_Lover._ Tell me, fair nymph, if ere you saw So sweet a girl as Phoebe Shaw?

_Echo._ Pshaw!

_Lover._ Say what will turn that frisking coney Into the toils of matrimony?

_Echo._ Money!

_Lover._ Has Phoebe not a heavenly brow?

Is not her bosom white as snow?

_Echo._ Ass! no!

_Lover._ Her eyes! was ever such a pair?

Are the stars brighter than they are.

_Echo._ They are.

_Lover._ Echo, thou liest! but canst deceive me.

_Echo._ Leave me.

_Lover._ But come, thou saucy, pert romancer, Who is as fair as Phoebe? Answer!

_Echo._ Ann, sir.

The latest good verses of this class are attributed to an echo that haunts the Sultan's palace at Constantinople. Abdul Hamid is supposed to question it as to the intentions of the European powers and his own resources:

"L'Angleterre?

Erre.

L'Autriche?

Triche.

La Prusse?

Russe.

Mes principautes?

Otees.

Mes cuirasses?

Assez.

Mes Pashas?

Achats.

Et Suleiman?

Ment."

--_The Athenaeum._

_WATCH-CASE VERSES._

When thick watches with removable cases were in fashion, and before the introduction of the present compact form, the outer case of the old-fashioned "turnip" was frequently the repository of verses and sundry devices, generally placed there by the watchmaker. Others, again, consisted of the maker's name and address, with some appropriate maxim, and were printed on satin or worked with the needle, and occasionally so devised as to appear in a circle without a break, as in the following:

"Onward perpetually moving These faithful hands are proving How soft the hours steal by; This monitory pulse-like beating, Is oftentimes methinks repeating, 'Swift, swift, the hours do fly.'

Ready! be ready! perhaps before These hands have made One revolution more, Life's spring is snapt,-- You die!"

A watch-paper described by a writer in "Notes and Queries" gave the address of Bowen, 2 Tichborne Street, Piccadilly, on a pedestal surmounted by an urn. On the other side of the label was a winged figure, holding in one hand a watch at arm's length, and in the other a book. At her feet lay a sickle and a serpent with his tail in his mouth--the emblems of Time and Eternity. Round the circumference of the label were these lines--

"Little monitor, impart Some instruction to the heart; Show the busy and the gay Life is wasting swift away.

Follies cannot long endure, Life is short and death is sure.

Happy those who wisely learn Truth from error to discern: Truth, immortal as the soul, And unshaken as the pole."

The bottom of the case was lined with rose-coloured satin, on which was a device in lace-paper--the central portion representing two hearts transfixed by arrows, and surmounted by a dove holding a wreath in its bill. A circular band enclosed the device, and bore the motto--

"Joined by friendship, Crowned by love."

The lines next given are by Mr. J. Byrom, common called Dr. Byrom, whom we have previously referred to:

"Could but our tempers move like this machine, Not urged by passion, nor delayed by spleen; But true to Nature's regulating power, By virtuous acts distinguish every hour: Then health and joy would follow, as they ought, The laws of motion and the laws of thought: On earth would pass the pleasant moments o'er To rest in Heaven when Time shall be no more!"

The last lines of this watch-paper have been occasionally varied to--

"Sweet health to pass the pleasant moments o'er And everlasting joy when Time shall be no more."

A watchmaker named Adams, who practised his craft many years ago in Church Street, Hackney, was fond of putting scraps of poetry in the outer case of watches sent him for repair. One of his effusions follow:

"To-morrow! yes, to-morrow! you'll repent A train of years in vice and folly spent.

To-morrow comes--no penitential sorrow Appears therein, for still it is to-morrow; At length to-morrow such a habit gains That you'll forget the time that Heaven ordains; And you'll believe that day too soon will be When more to-morrows you're denied to see."

Another old engraved specimen contained this verse:

"Content thy selfe withe thyne estat, And sende no poore wight from thy gate; For why, this councell I thee give, To learne to dye, and dye to lyve."

The following lines by Pope, occurring in his Epistle to the Earl of Oxford, have been used in this way:

"Absent or dead Still let a friend be Dear. The Absent claims a sigh, the dead a tear.

May Angels guard The friend I love."

Milman's poems have furnished a verse for this purpose:

"It matters little at what hour o' the day The righteous fall asleep; death cannot come To him untimely who is fit to die.