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Efery dhinks ish mofed, yet not a sound

But der noise of der wheels agoin' around,

Ash so shwiftly dhey go ofer der ground;

Und Schneider turns round und says, " Good-day,"

For now he vas more as life miles avay.

Shtill shumps der horses, .shtill on dhey go,

Und der vay dhey mofes dot ishn't shlow;

Dhey're goin' down hill, und faster und faster

Dhey're drifen aheadt by Schneider, dheir master,

Who shtucks to 'em now like a poor-man's blaster;

For veil he knows dot if now he vos dook't,

He could make up his mint dot his goose vas gooked—

So efery muscles he prings in blay,

'Cause dhey ain'd any more as ten miles avay.

Under dheir vlyin' hoofs der roat

Like a great big^ mud-gutter dot flowed,

Und efen der flies dot comed from town,

Got tired at last, und had to lay down

Und dook a shmall resht on der ground;

For Schneider und der horses dhey vent so fast

Dot efen der flies gifed oud at last;

Und der dust vas thick and der horses vas gray,

Und Schneider vas fifteen miles avay.

Der very first dhing vhat Schneider saw

Vas der sant, dhen he heard der ocean roar;

He shmelt der salt in der goot old preezes

Vhat wafed ofer vhere dhere vashn't some dreesea,

Und his heart velt glad und his shpirits vas gay,

Und der very horses dhem seemed to say:

"Ve prings you, Schneider, all der vay

From Irishtown, und safe der vhiskey,

But 'pon our vorts, it vas rader risky 1"

Den hurrah! hurrah! for Schneider dhrue,
Und hurrah! hurrah! for der horses too!
Und vhen dheir ladders vas high und dry,
Let some bully boy mit a grockery eye
Get up on der top of a parrel und gry—
"Dhese ish der horses vhat safed der day
By cartin' dot vishkey und Schneider avay
From Irishtown, dwendy miles avayl"

LINES WRITTEN IN A CHURCHYARD.
Herrert Knowles.

It is good for us to be here. If thou wilt, let us make here three taberna

; one for theo, and oue for Moses, aud one for Elias."

Methinks it is good to be here;
If thou wilt, let us build—but for whom?

Nor Elias nor Moses appear;
But the shadows of eve that encompass with gloom
The abode of the dead and the place of the tomb.

Shall we build to Ambition? Ah no!
Affrighted he shrinketh away;

For see, they would pen him below
In a small narrow cave and begirt with cold clay,
To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey.

To Beauty? Ah no! she forgets
The charms which she wielded before;

Nor knows the foul worm that he frets The skin which but yesterday fools could adore, For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore.

Shall we build to the purple of pride? To the trappings whjch dizen the proud?

Alas! they are all laid aside,
And here's neither dress nor adornment allowed,
But the long winding-sheet, and the fringe of the shroud.

To Riches? Alas, 'tis in vain!
Who hid, in their turns have been hid:

The treasures are squandered again;
And here in the grave are all metals forbid,
But the tinsel that shines on the dark coffin-lid.

To the pleasures which Mirth can afford,
The revel, the laugh, and the jeer?

Ah! here is a plentiful board!
But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer,
And none but the worm is a reveler here.

Shall we build to Affection and Love?
Ah no! they have withered and died,

Or flod with the spirit above.
Friends, brothers, and sisters are laid side by sid«
Yet none have saluted, and none have replied-

Unto Sorrow?—the dead cannot grieve;
Not a sob, not a sigh meets mine ear,

Which compassion itself could relieve.
Ah, sweetly they slumber, nor love, hope, or fear;
Peace, peace is the watchword, the only one here.

Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow?
Ah no! for his empire is known,

And here there are trophies enow!
Beneath, the cold dead, and around, the dark stone,
Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown.

The first tabernacle to Hope we will build,
And look for the sleepers around us to rise;

The second to Faith, that insures it fulfilled; And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice, Who bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skies

LAY OF THE MADMAN.

Many a year hath passed away,
Many a dark and dismal year,
Since last I roamed in the light of day,
Or mingled my own with another's tear;
Woe to the daughters and sons of men-
Woe to them all when I roam again I

Here have I watched, in this dungeon cell,

Longer than Memory's tongue can tell;

Here have I shrieked in my wild despair,

When the damned fiends, from their prison came,

Sported and gamboled, and mocked me here,

With their eyes of fire, and their tongues of flame,
Shouting forever and aye my name!
And I strove in vain to burst my chain,
And longed to be free as the winds again,
That I might spring in Ihe wizard ring,
And scatter them back to their hellish den!
Woe to the daughters and sons of men—
Woe to them all when I roam again!

How long I have been in this dungeon here,
Little I know, and nothing I care;

What to me is the day, or night,
Summer's heat, or autumn sere.

Spring-tide flowers, or winter's blight, Pleasure's smile, or sorrow's tear?

Time! what care I for thv flight, Joy! I spurn thee with disdain; Nothing love I but this clanking chain; Once I broke from its iron hold, Nothing I said, but silent and bold, Like the shepherd that watches his gentle fold, Like the tiger that crouches in mountain lair, Hours upon hours so watched I there; Till one of the fiends that had come to bring Herbs from the valley and drink from the spring; Stalked through my dnngeon entrance in! Ha! how he shrieked to see me free— Ho! how he trembled, and knelt to me, He, who had mocked me many a day, And barred me out from its cheerful ray— Gods! how I shouted to see him pray! I wreathed my hands in the demon's hair, And choked his breath in its muttered prayer, And danced I then, in wild delight, To see the trembling wretch's fright!

Gods! how I crushed his hated bones!

'Gainst the jagged wall and the dungeon-stone*;

And plunged my arm adown his t hroat,

And dragged to life his beating heart,
And held it up that I might gloat,

To see its quivering fibers start!
Ho! how I drank of the purple flood,
Quaffed, and quaffed again, of blood,
Till my brain grew dark, and I knew no more,
Till I found myself on this dungeon floor,
Fettered and held by this iron chain ;—

Ho! when I break its links again,

Ha! when I break its links again, Woe to the daughters and sons of men I

MACLAINE'S CHILD—Charles Mackay.

"Maclainel vou've scourged me like a hound;—
You should have struck me to the ground;
You should have played a chieftain's part;
You should have stabbed me to the heart.

"You should have crushed me unto death
But here I swear with living breath,
That for this wrong which you have done,
I'll wreak my vengeance on your son,—

"On him, and you, and all your race!"
He said, and bounding from his place,
He seized the child with sudden hold—
A smiling infant, three years old—

And starting like a hunted stag,
He scaled the rock, he clomb the crag,
And reached, o'er many a wide abyss.
The beetling seaward precipice;

And leaning o'er its topmost ledge,
He held the infant o'er the edge:—
"In vain the wrath, thy sorrow vain;
No hand shall save it, proud Maclainel"

With flashing eye and burning brow,
The mother followed, heedless how,
O'er crags with mosses overgrown,
And stair-like juts of slippery stone.

But midway up the rugged steep,
She found a chasm she could not leap,
And kneeling on its brink, she raised
Her supplicating hands, and gazed.

"O, spare my child, my joy, my pride!
O, give me back my child!" she cried:
"My child! my child!" with sobs and tean%
She shrieked upon his callous ears.

"Come, Evan," said the trembling chief,—
His bosom wrung with pride and grief,—
"Restore the boy, give back my son,
And I'll forgive the wrong you've done.

"I scorn forgiveness, haughty man!
You've injured me before the clan;
And nought but blood shall wipe away
The shame I have endured to-day."

And as he spoke, he raised the child,
To dash it 'mid the breakers wild,
But, at the mother's piercing cry,
Drew back a step, and made reply:—

"Fair lady, if your lord will strip,
And let a clansman wield the whip,
Till skin shall flay, and blood shall run,
I'll give you back your little son/

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