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650. THE ALFS.
Stay, jailor, stay--and hear my woe! Proud monuments of God! sub ime ye stand

She is not mad-who kneels to thee; Among the wonders of his mighty hand :
For what I'm now-too well I know,
For what I was- and what should be.

With summits soaring in the upper sky, [eye :
I'll rave no more-in proud despair;

Where the broad day looks down with burning Mv anguage shall be mild-though sad: Where gorgeous clouds in solemn pomp repose, But yet l'il firinly-truly swear,

Flinging rich shadows on eternal snows: I am not mad- I am not mad.

Piles of triumphant dust, ye stand alone, My tyrant husband-forged the tale,

And hold in kingly state, a peerless throre!
Which chains me-in this dismal cell;

Like olden conquerors, on high ye rear
My fate unknown-my friends bewail ;
Oh! jailor, haste-that fate to tell;

The regal ensign, and the glittering spear:
Oh! haste-my father's heart to cheer: Round icy spires, the mists, in wreaths unrollech

His heart, at once--'twill grieve, and glad, Float ever near, in purple or in gold : 'To know, though kept a captive here,

And voiceful torrents, sternly rolling there,
I am not mad;-I am not mad.

Fill with wild music, the unpillared air:
He smiles--in scorn, and turns the key; What garden, or what hall on earth beneath,

He quits the grate; I knelt in vain;
His glimmering lamp, still, still I see--

Thrills to such tones, as o'er the mountains 'Tis gone, and all is gloom again.

breathe 1

(shone, Cold--hitter cold:-No warmth! no light! There, through long ages past, those summits

Lise-all thy comforts once I had; Where morning radiance on their state was Yet here I'm chained,--this freezing night,

thrown; Although not mad; no, no, not mad.

There, when the summer day's career was done,
Tis sure some dream,--some vision vain;

What! 1,—the child of rankand wealih, Played the last glory of the sinking sun ;
Am I the wretch-who clanks this chain,

There, sprinkling lustre o'er the cataract's shade,
Bereft of freedom,-friends and health? The chastened moon, her glittering rainbow
Ah! while I dwell on blessings ficd,

made ;
Which never more-my heart must glad,
Ilow aches my heart, - how burns my head; And, blent with pictured stars, her lustre lay,
But 'tis not mad ;-no, 'tis not mad.

Where to still vales, the free streams leaped away.

Where are the thronging hosts of other days,
Hast thou, my child--forgot ere this,
A mother's face,--a mother's tongue ?

Whose banners floated o'er the Alpine ways;
She'll ne'er forget your parting kiss,

Who through their high defiles, to battle, wound, Nor round her neck-how fast you clung; while deadly ordnance stirr'd the h’ights aroundt Nor how with me--you sued to stay; Gone; like the dream, that melts at early morn,

Nor how that suit--your sire forbade; Nor how--I'll drive such thoughts away;

When the lark's anthem through the sky is borne: They'll make me mad; they'll make nie mad. Gone; like the wrecks, that sink in ocean's spray, His rosy lips,-how sweet they smiled!

And chill oblivion murmura; Where are they
His mild blue eyes, how bright they shone ! Yet, “ Alps on Alps" still rise ; the lofty home
None--ever bore a lovelier child :

Of storms, and eagles, where their pinions roam
And art thou now forever-gone ? Still, round their peaks, the magic colors lie,
And must I never see thee more,
My pretty, pretiy, pretty lad?

Of morn, and eve, imprinted on the sky;
I will be free! unbar the door!

And still, while kings and thrones, shall fade, I am not mad;-I am not mad.

and fall,
Oh ! hark! what mean those yells, and cries ? And empty crowns ile dim upon the pall; [roar;

His chain--some furious madman breaks; Still, shall their glaciers flash; their torrents
He comes,-1 see his glaring eyes ;

Till kingdoms fail, and nations rise no more.
Now, now-my dungeon-grate he sbakes.
Help! help!-He's gone! Oh ! fearful wo, ADHERENCE TO TRUTH. Petrarch, a cele.

Such screams to hear, such sights to see! brated Italian poet, who flourished about four
My brain, my brain, -I know, I know, hundred years ago, recommended himself to
I am not mad, but soon shall be.

the confidence and affection of Cardinal (oYes. soon;-for, lo you !-while I speak

lonna, in whose family he resided, by his can. Mark how yon Demon's eye-balls glare !

dor, and strict adherence to truth. A violent He sees me ; now, with dreadful shriek, quarrel occurred in the household of this He whirls a serpent-high in air.

nobleman; which was carried so far, that re Horror !--the reptile--strikes his footh course was had to arms. The Cardinal wish.

Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad; ed to know the foundation of this affair; and Ay. laugh, ye fiends ; I feel the truth, that he might be able to decide with justice,

Your task is done !--I'm mad! I'm mad ! he assembled all his people, and obliged them Here didst thou dwell, in the enchanted cover, to bind themselvrs, hy a most solemn oath Egeria ! thy all heavenly bosom beating, on the gospels, lo declare the whole truth For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; [ing, this determination ; even the Bishop of Luna,

Every one, without exception, submitted to The purple moonlight vail'd that mystic meet- | brother to the Cardinal was not excused. With her most starry canopy, and, seating

Petrarch, in his turn, presenting himself to Thyself by thine adorer, what befell ? [ing take the oath; the Cardinal closed the book, This cave was surely shaped out for the greet- and said, “ As to you, Petrarch, your word as Of an enamor'd goddess, and the cell

sufficient.Haunted by holy love—the earliest oracle ! 'Tis done, and since 'tis done, 'tis part recalls Children like tender ecions, take the bow,

And since 'tis past recall, must be forgotten And, ae they first are fashioned-al ways grow.

Never purchase friendship by gifts.

651. MODERN REPUBLICS. Where are So home the clown, with a good fortur.e weng the republics of modern times, which cluster'd Smiling,--in heart and soul content, round immortal Italy? Venice, and Genoa And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes. exist, but in name. The Alps, indeed, look down upon the brave and peaceful Swiss, in

Being well lathered, from a dish or tub, their native fastnesses; but the guaranty of

Hodge now began, with grinning pain, wo grubtheir freedom is in their weakness, and not in Just like a hedger, cutting furze: their strength. The mountains are not easily 'Twas a vile razor!-then the rest he tried ; crossed, and the valleys are not easily retain- All were impostors. “Ah!" Hodge signed, ed. When the invader comes, he moves like “I wish my eighteen-pence was in my pusse.” an avalanche, carrying destruction in his path. The peasantry sink before him. The

In vain, to chase his beard, and bring the gracue country is too poor for plunder; and toorough He cut and dug, and whined, and stamp'd, end for valuable conquest. Nature presents her

swore; eternal barriers, on every side, to check the Bro't blood, and danc'd, olasphem'd and made wr; wantonness of ambition; and Switzerland re- And cursd each razor's body,o'er and o'er. (fraces, mains, with her simple institutions, a military road to fairer climates, scarcely worth a per

His muzzle, formed of opposition stuff, manent possession.

Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its rull"; We stand the latest, and, if we fail, probably So kept il-laughing at the steel, and suds. the last experiment of self-government by the Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, people. We have begun it, under circum- Vowing the direst veng’nce, with clench'd claws, stances of the rnost auspicious nature. We

On the vile cheal that sold the goods. are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has never been checked, by the oppressions of

“Razors! a vile, confounded dog! tyranny. Our constitutions have never been

Not fit to scrape a hog!" enfeebled by the vices, or luxuries of the old Hodge sought the fellow-found him-and begun world. Such as we are, we have been from “ P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue! to you, 'tis fun, the beginning; simple, hardy, intelligent, ac- That people flay themselves out of their lives. customed to self-government, and self-respect.

You rascal! for an hour, have I been grubbing, The Atlantic rolls between us, and any formidable foe. Within our own territory,

Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing, stretching through many degrees of latitude With razors, just like oyster-knives. and longitude, we have the choice of many Sirrah! I tell you, you 're a knave, products, and many means of independence. To cry up razors that can't share." The government is mild. The press is free.

"Friend," quoth the razor man, “I'm not a kirave Knowledge reaches, or may reach, every home. What fairer prospect of success could

As for the razors you have bought,-be presented? What means more adequate

Upon my soul, I never thought to accomplish the sublime end? What more That they would share." is necessary, than for the people to preserve, “Not think they'd share?” quoth Hodge, with what they themselves have created ?"

woud'ring eyes, Already has the age caught the spirit of our institutions. It has already ascended the An- “What were they made for then, you dog?" he cries.

And voice, not much unlike an Indian yell, des, and snuffed the breezes of both oceans. It has infused itself into the life-blood of Eu

“Made!" quoth the fellow, with a smile, " 17 scli." rope, and warmed the sunny plains of France, 653. UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION. 1 and the lowlands of Holland. It has touched speak-in the spirit — of the British law. the philosophy of Germany, and the North, which makes liberty - commensurate with and, moving onward to the South, has opened and inseparable from, the British soil,

whic's to Greece the lessons of her better days. proclaims, even to the stranger and the sou

Can it be, that America, under such cir-journer, the moment he sets his foot upon cumstances, can betray herself? that she is British earth, that the ground on which be to be added to the catalogue of republics, the treads-is holy, and consecrated—by the ge inscription upon whose ruins ís — "They nius of UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION. Ne. were, but they are not." Forbid it, my coun- matter in what language-his doon nay trymen; forbid it, Heaven!-Storý.

have been pronounced; no matter what com

plexion-incompatible with freedom, an In 652. RAZOR SELLER.

dian, or an African sun inay have burnt upon A fellow, in a market-town,

him; no matter in what disastrous battle-Chris Most musical, cried razors; up and down, liberty may have been cloven down; no mal. Ard offered twelve--for eighteen-pence;

ter with what solemnities—he may have been Which, certainly, seem'd wondrous chcap,

devoted-upon the altar of slavery; the tirsi

moment-he touches the sacred soil of Britain, And, for the money, quite a heap,

the altar, and the god, sink together in the That every man would buy, with cash and sense. dust; his soul walks abroad in her own ma

A country bumpkin the great offer heard; jesty; his body swells beyond the measure Poor Hodge, who suffer'd by a broad black beard, of his chains, that burst from around him, That seemed a shoe-brush, stuck beneath his nose. disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of

and he stands redeemed, regenerated, and With cheerfulness, the eighteen-pence he paid, UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION:-Grullon. And, proudly, to himself, in whispers said

When breezes are sol, and skies ure fair, This rascal stole the razors, I suppose.

I steal an hour froin study and care,

And hic me away-10 ilie woodland scene “No matter, if the fellow be a knave,

Where wanders ihe stream with waters of green Provided that the razors share;

As if the bright fringe-of herlis on its brink It ceriainly will be a monstrous vyrize."

| Hud given their stain, to the wave they drinks.

654. GINEVRA; OR LOST BRIDE. Something he could not find--he knew not what. If ever you should come to Modena,

When he was gone, the house remained awhilo, Stop at a palace, near the Reggio-gale,

Silent, and tenantless--then, went to strangers Dwelt in, of old, by one of the Donati.

Full fifty years were past, and all forgotten, Its noble gardens, terrace, above terrace, When, on an idle day, a day of search, And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses,

Mid the old lumber, in the gallery, (acid, Will long detain you—but before you go, That mouldering chest was noticed ; and, ?**82 Enter the house-forget it not, I pray you By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra, And look awhile upon a picture there

“Why not remove it from its lurking-place ? Tis of a lady, in her earliest youth,

'Twas done, as soon as said; but, on the way, The last, of that illustrious family;

It burst, it fell; and lo! a skeleton! Dore by Zampieri—but by whom I care not. With here and there a pearl, and emerald stone, He, who observes it-ere he passes on,

A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold. Gazes his fill, and comes, and comes again, Ail else—had perished--save a wedding ring, That he may call it up, when far away.

And a small seal, her mother's legacy, She sits, inclining forward, as to speak,

Engraven with a name, the name of bothHer lips half open, and her finger up,

" Ginevra." As though she said, " Beware!” her vest of gold, There, then, had she found a grave! Broidered with flowers, and clasp'd from head to Within that chest, had she concealed herself, An emerald stone, in every golden clasp; [foot, Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster,

When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there, A coronet of pearls.

Fastened her down forever !--Rogers.
But then her face,

THE NEEDLE. 80 lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,

'The gay belles of fashion, may boast of excelling, The overflowing-of an innocent heart-

In waltz, or cotillion, at whist or quadrille; It haunts me still, though many a year has fled,

And seek admiration, by vauntingly tellingLike some wild melody!

of drawing, and painting, and musical skill; Alone it hangs,

But give me the fair onė, in country or city, Over a mouldering heir-loom ; iis companion,

Whose home, and its duties, are dear to her heart An oaken chest, hall-eaten by the worm,

Who cheerfully warbles some rustical dikty, But richly carved, by Antony of Trent,

While plying the needle, with exquisite art; With scripture-stories, from the life of Christ;

The bright little needle, the swift flying needle, A chest, that came from Venice, and had held

The needle—directed by beauty, and art.
The ducal robes-of some old ancestors--

If LOVE kas a poleni, a magical token,
Thal, by the way—it may be true, or false
But don't forget the picture ; and you will not,

A talisman, ever resistless, and true,
When you have heard the tale, they told me there. A charm, that is never evaded or broken,
She was an only child-her name-Ginevra,

A witchery, certain the heart to subdue, The joy, the pride of an indulgent faiher;

'Tis This, and his armory-never has furnished,

So keen, and unerring, or polish'd a darl,
And, in her fifteenth year, became a bride,
Marrying an only son, Francesco Doria,

(Let beauty direct it,) so pointed, and burnishid, Her playmate, from her birth, and her first love.

And, oh! it is certain of touching the heart, Just as she looks there, in her bridal dress,

The bright little needle, the swin flying needle, She was; all gentleness, all gayety ;

The needle-directed by beauty, and art. Her pranks, the favorite theme of every tongue.

Be wise, then, ye maidens, nor seek admiratio:1, Bai now, the day was come, the day, the hour;

By dressing—for conquest, and flirting-with alt Now, frowning, smiling, for the hundredth time,

You never, whate'er be your fortune, or station, The irse, that ancient lady, preached decorum; Appear half so lovely, at rout, or at ball, And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave

As-gaily conven'd at the work-covered table, ller hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco. Each-cheerfully active, and playing her part, Great was the joy ; but, at the nuptial feast, (ing. Beguiling the task, with a song, or a fabie, When all sat down, the bride herself-wab want

And plying the needle-with exquisite art; Nor was she in be found! Her father cried,

The bright little needle,-the long darning needle, ""Tis but to make a trial of our love !"

The swift knitting needle, the needle, directed by And filled his glass to all; but his hand shook,

BEAUTY and A KT.~ Woodworth. And soon from guesi lo guest—the panic spread. In parts superior, what advantage lies? 'Twas but that iusta:11-she had left Francesco, Tell, (for you can) what is it to be wise? 1.aughing, and looking back, and flying still, Tis but to know how little can be knowu; Her ivory tooth-inprinted on his finger. To see all others' faulis, and feel our own; But now, alas ! she was not to be found; Condemnd in business, or in arts to drudge, Nor, from that hour, could anything be guessed, Without a second, or without a judge. But, that she was not!

Truths would you teach, to save a sinking and Weary of his life, All fear, none aid you, and few—understand. francesco-few 10 Venice, and, embarking, Even from the body's purity, the mind Flung it away. in banile with the Turk.

Receives a secret sympathetic aid. Donati lived-and long migh: you have seen

Not rural sight alone, but rural sound An old man, wandering—as in quest of something,

Exhilarate the spirits.

635. ADAMA AND JEFFERSON. They have, Erin, my country, though sad and foreeken, gone to the companions of their cares, of their In dreams, I revisit thy sca-beaten shore ! ils. It is well with them. The treasures of But alas! in a far distant land I awaken, (mono' America are now in Heaven. How long the

And sigh for the friends, who can meet mc 140 list of our good, and wise, and brave, assembled there! how few remain with us! There O, hard, cruel fate, wilt thou never replace me, is our Washington; and those who followed In a mansion of peace.where no periler: chase me! him in their country's confidence, are now | Ah! never, again, shall my brothers enibrace me, met together with him, and all that illustrious They died to defend me, or livom lepore ! company:

The faithful marble may preserve their But yet, all its fond recollections suppressing, image; the engraven brass may proclaim One dying wish--my lone bosom shall draw: their worth; but the humblest sod of inde- Erin, an exile bequeaths thee his blessing, pendent America, with nothing but the dew Land of my forefathers, ERIN Go BRAGR! drops of the morning to gild it, is a prouder Buried and cold, when my heart stills its motion, mausoleum than kings or conquerors can Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean, boast. The country is their monument. Its And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devoindependence is their epitaph.

But not to their country is their praise lim- 0, ERIN MA VORNEEN, Erin Go BRAGH! (tior, ited. The whole earth is the monument of

657. THE HYPOCRITE. illustrious men. Wherever an agonizing

He was a man, people shall perish, in a generous convulsion, for want of a valiant arm and a fearless Who stole the livery-of the court of heaven, heart, they will cry, in the last accents of de- To serve the devil in; in virtue's guise, spair, oh, for a Washington, an Adams, a Devoured the widow's house, and orphan's loread Jefferson! Wherever a regenerated nation, In holy phrase, transacted villanies, starting up in its might, shall bụrst the links that common sinners-durst not meddle with. of steel that enchain it, the praise of our fathers shall be the prelude of their triumphal At sacred ferst, he sai among the saints, song.

And with his guilty hands-ouched holiest thing.. The contemporary and successive genera- And none of sin lamented more, or sighed tions of men will disappear. In the long More deeply, or with graver countenance, lapse of ages, the tribes of America, like those Or longer prayer, wept o'er the dying man, of Greece and Rome, may pass away. The whose infant children, at the momen!, he fabric of American freedom, like all things Planned how to rob. In sermon-style he bought human, however firm and fair, may crumble into dust. But the cause in which these our And sold, and lied; and salutation made, fathers shone is immortal. They did that, to In scripture terms. He prayed, by quantity, which no age, no people of reasoning men, And with his repetitions, long and loud, can be indifferent.

All knees were weary. With one hand, he put Their eulogy will be uttered in other lan. A penny—in the urn of poverty, guages, when those we speak, like us who speak them, shall all be forgotten. And when and with the other—took a shilling out. the great account of humanity shall be closed On charitable lists,—those trumps, which told at the throne of God, in the bright list of his The public ear, who had, in secret, done children, who best adorned and served it, The poor a benefit, and half the alms (ing, shall be found the names of our Adams and They told of, took themselves to keep them sour.d. our Jefferson.-Everett.

He blazed his name, more pleased to have it there, 656, ZXLE OF ERIN.

Than in the book of life. Seest thou the man! There came to the beach-a poor exile of Erin, A serpent with an angel's voice! a grave, (ceivid.

The dew, on his thin robe, hung heavy and chill; With flowers bestrewed ! and yet, few were deFor his country he sigh'd, when, at twilight repair- His virtues, being over-done, his face,

To wander alone, by the wind-beaten hill: (ing, Too grave, his prayers too long, his charities, But the day-star-attracted his eyes' sad devotion, Too pornpously attended, and his speech, For it rose-on his own native Isle of the Ocean,

Larded too frequently, and out of time, Where once, in the glow of his youthful emotion, With serious phraseology:-were rents, llo eung the bold anthem-of Erin Go BRAGH!

That in his garments opened, in spite of him, U. sad is my fate! said the heart-broken stranger, Thro' which, the well accustomed eye, could see

The wild deer and wolf, to a covert can flee; The rottenness of his heart. None deeper blush'l, But I-have no refuge—from famine, or danger, As in the all-piercing light he stood, exposeil,

A home, and a country-remain not for me; No longer herding-with the holy ones. Ah! never, again, in the green sunny bowire, [hours, Yet sull he tried to bring his countenanceWhere my forefathers liv'd, shall I spend the sweet To sanctimonious seeming; but, meanwhile, Or cover my harp, with the wild woven flowers, The shame within, now visible to all, And strike to the numbers--of Erin Go BRAGH! His purpose balk'd. The righteour snild, and even 0.where is my collage, that stood by the wild wood? Despair itself, some signs of laughter gave,

Sisters and sires, did ye weep for its fall? (hood, As, ineflectually, he strove to wipe 0.wliere is the n.other, that watch'd o’e: my child. His brow, that inward guiltiness defiled.

And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all? Detected wretch! of all the reprobate, Ah! my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure, None seem'd more mature—for the flames of hell 0. a hy did it doat-on a fast fading treasure Where still his face, from ancient custom, weare Tears, like the rain-drops, may fall, without mea- A holy air, which says to all that pass But rapture, and beauty, they cannot recall! (sure, I Him by, " I was a hypocrite on caril." - Pollock.



Glazes apace. He does not feel you DOW« Parthasiga, a painter of Atheni, amongst those Olynthian cap.

Stand back! I'll paint the death-dew on bis brow! Ives Philip of Macedon brought home to sell, bought one very old

Gods! if he do not die man; and when he had him at his house, put him to death with Conception with the scorn of those calm lips'

But for one moment-one-till I eclipse extreme torture and torment, the better, by his example, to express ise pains and passions of his Prometheus, whom he was then Shivering! Hark! he mutters zbrut to paint Burton's Anat. of Me.

Brokenly now—that was a difficult breath

Another 2 There stood an unsold captive in the inart,

thou never come, oh, Deat. ' A gray-haired and majestical old man,

Look! how his temples flutter! Chained to a pillar. It was almost night,

Is his heart still ? Aha! lift up his head ! And the last seller from his place had

He shudders, gasps, Jove help him! so, he's dead

gone, And not a sound was heard but of a dog

How like a mounting devil in the heart Crunching beneath the stall a refuse bone, Rules the unreigned ambition! Let it once Or the dull echo from the pavement rung,

But play the monarch, and its haughty brov As the faint captive changed his weary feet. Glows with a beauty that bewilders thoughe, 'Twas evening, and the half-descended sun And un thrones peace forever. Putting on Tipped with a golden fire the many domes The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns Of Athens, and a yellow atmosphere

The heart to ashes, and with not a spring Lay rich and dusky in the shaded street

Left in the bosom for the spirit's lip, Thiough which the captive gazed.

We look upon our splendor and forget The golden light into the painter's room

The thirst of which we perish! Streamed richly, and the hidden colors stole

O, if earth be all, and Heaven nothing, From the dark pictures radianty forth,

What thrice mocked fools we are !-- Willis. And in the soft and dewy atmosphere,

NATURAL HISTORY OF LOVE, Like forms and landscapes, magical they lay.

Addressed to Dr. Moyce by the ladiea Parrhasius stood, gazing, forgetfully,

Dear doctor, let it not transpire,
Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay

How much your lectures we admire;
Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus-
The vulture at his vitals, and the links

How, at your eloquence we wonder, of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh;

When you explain the cause of the der , And, as the painter's mind feli through the dim, Of lightning, and electricity, Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth

With so much plainness, and simplicity; With its far-reaching fancy, and with form And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye,

The origin of rocks, and mountains, Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl

Of seas, and rivers, lakes, and founta'ns; Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip (flight. Of rain, and hail, and frost, and snow, Were like the winged God's, breathing from his And all the storms, and winds that b.dk “ Bring me the captive now!

Besides a hundred wondere more,
My hands feel skillful, and the shadows lift

Of which we never heard before.
From my waked spirit airily and swift,
And I could paint the bow

But now, dear doctor, not to flatter,
Upon the bended heavens-around me play

There is a most important matter, Colors of such divinity to-day.

A matter which our thoughts run much ca, Ha! bind him on his back!

A matter, which you never touch on,
Look :-as Prometheus in my picture here!
Quick-or he faints! stand with the cordia, near!

A subject, if we right conjecture,
Now-bend him to the rack!

That well deserves a long, long lecture, Press down the poison'd links into his flesh!

Which all the ladies would approve, And tear agape that healing wound afresh .

The natural history of love!
Samret him writhe! How long

Deny us not, dear doctor Moyce!
Will he live thus? Quick, my good pencil, now!
What a fine agony works upon his brow!

Oh, list to our entreating voice!
Ha! gray-haired, and so strong!

Tell us why our poor, tender hearts, How fearfully he stifles that short moan!

So easily admit love's darts. Gods! if I could but paint a dying groan!

Teach us the marks-of love's beginning, “ Pity" thee! So I do!

What makes us think a beau so winning 1 piry the dumb victim at the altar-

What makes us think a coxcomb, witty, But does the rob'd priest for his pity falter? I'd rack thee though I knew

A black coat, wise, a red coat-pretty! hthousand lives were perishing in thine

Why we believe such horrid jies, What were ten thousand to a fame like mine? That we are angels, from the skies, Yet there's a deathless name!

Our teeth like pearl, our cheeks like rosee, A spirit that the smothering vault shall spurn, And like a steadfast planet mount and burn

Our eyes like stars—such charming noses! And though its crown of flame

Explain our dreams, awake, and sleeping, Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone,

Explain our blushing, laughing, weeping. By all the fiery stars! I'd bind it on!

Teach us, dear doctor, if you can, Ay—though it bid me rifle

To humble that proud creature, man;
My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirsi-

To turn the wise ones into fools,
Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first;
Though it should bid me stifle

The proud and insolent to tools;
The yearning in my throat for my sweet child, To make them all run, helter-ske.ter,
And taunt its mother till my brain went wild

Their necks-into the marriage-halter :
All-I would do it all

Then leave us to ourselves with these; Sooner than die, like a dull worm, to rot

We'll turn and rule them as we please. Thrust foully into earth to be forgot! O heavens-but I appal

Dear doctor, if you grant our wishes, Your heart, old man! forgive- -ha! on your lives

We promise you-five-hundred kisses; Let him not faint ?-rack him till he revives!

And, rather than the affair be blundered, Vain-vain-give o'er! His eye

We'll give you—six-score to the hundred

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