NO. I.
THE RAPTURE OF PROSERPINE.
A RHAPSODY, FROM OVID. Sporting scenes and sundry sketches | ||
THE SUBMISSION.
“Dear Plute,
“This a cursed bad business of yours about Proserpine.
Ceres is raising the very Old Nick, up here, and we shall
have no quiet until you let the girl go. I have had to promise
the old woman, that if her daughter has not eaten, since
you have had her,—you know what that means—you shall give
her up entirely, but if she has tasted food on your premises,
that—then—then she shall divide her time, half yearly, between
you and her mother. Come, now, that's an equitable
decision—don't appeal, you shall have the first six months,
my boy—
Thy affectionate brother,
Jove Omnip.”
NO. I.
THE RAPTURE OF PROSERPINE.
A RHAPSODY, FROM OVID. Sporting scenes and sundry sketches | ||