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The knight then went as usual every day,
Along the river side to take a stroll.

But spouse within, who'd watch'd all this proceeding,
Resolved herself to hear the minstrels play;
So call'd them back, and with another feeding,
Engaged them all again in roundelay.

But short, alas! the joys allow'd to mortal,
At most indeed a miserable pittance;

For soon was heard a knocking at the portal,

The husband back, and bawling for admittance. What's to be done? a thought-(which seem'd the best)-Was carried into effect most expeditiously;

This was to shut each minstrel in a chest,

And there to hide them under lock and key! They there remained until the coast was clear, Which happen'd when the knight was gone to bed; But on the morrow-guess the lady's fear,

When she discovered that they all were dead! Again the knight went out, and then a clown At last some consolation seemed to give her; He promised, for a ducat, that he'd drown The devil himself within th' adjoining river! The clown (who had no great desire to thwart her) Threw the poor hunchback o'er his shoulders broad; And plunged him headlong in the rapid water, Returning thence to handle his reward;

When straight before his wondering eyes she shew'd
Another hunchback! the image of his brother;
"What, here again!" he cried. This time his load
He stuff'd with stones:-" Now then," said he, "you'll
smother!"

Return'd again, once more the trick they play,
He flings the other in the foaming stream;
Just then the humpback'd lord appeared that way,
"The devil!" the clown now roar'd, "or else I dream."
Catching him up,-" Come here," he cried, "old sin !"
His indignation greater than before;

Cudgell'd him well-then hurl'd him headlong in !-
And sure enough, he ne'er was heard of more.

THE FELON.

O, mark his wan and hollow cheek!
And mark his eye-ball's glare!
And mark his teeth in anguish clench'd,
The anguish of despair!

Know, since three days, his penance borne,
Yon Felon left a jail;

And since three days no food has pass'd
Those lips so parch'd and pale.

"Where shall I turn ?" the wretch exclaims
"Where hide my shameful head?
"How fly from scorn? Oh, how contrive
"To earn my honest bread?

"This branded hand would gladly toil; "But when for work I pray,

"Who sees this mark-A FELON!' cries, And loathing turns away.

"This heart has greatly err'd, but now
"Would fain revert to good;
"This hand has greatly sinn'd, but yet
"Has ne'er been stain'd with blood.
"For work, or alms, in vain I sue;

"The scorners both deny

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"I starve! I starve!-Then what remains? "This choice-to SIN or DIE !

"Here virtue spurns me with disdain ;
"Here pleasure spreads her snare;
"Strong habit drags me back to vice;
"And urged by fierce despair
"I strive, while hunger gnaws my heart,
"To fly from shame in vain.
"World !-'tis thy cruel will! I yield,
"And plunge in guilt again.

"There's mercy in each ray of light
"That mortal eyes e'er saw;
"There's mercy in each breath of air
"That mortal lips e'er draw;

There's mercy both for bird and beast
"In GOD's indulgent plan;

"There's mercy in each creeping thing-
"But MAN HAS NONE FOR MAN!

"Ye proudly honest! when ye heard
"My wounded conscience groan,
"Had generous hand or feeling heart
"One glimpse of mercy shown-
"That act had made, from burning eyes,
"Sweet tears of virtue roll;

"Had fix'd my heart, assur'd my faith,
"And HEAV'N HAD GAIN'D A SOUL!"

BEN CABLE;

OR, THE BIRTH OF A BRITISH TAR.

One night, 'twas at sea, in the midst of a storm,
On board a three- decker, Ben Cable was born;
In his cradle, the ship, which was rock'd by the deep,
The black whistling winds would oft lull him to sleep.
When christen'd, they dipp'd the boy in the salt flood,
And the captain himself for his godfather stood.
From infancy thus little Ben was inured
To tempests and storms he so boldly endured.

On board, from his youth till to manhood he grew,
Ben still was the pride and delight of the crew;
Ever foremost he was at humanity's call,
No danger could ever Ben's courage appal;
If a friend or a foe in distress hove a sigh,

Though the white foaming billows then ran mountains
'Twas nothing to Ben if his efforts could save
One unfortunate wretch from a watery grave.

[high,

In many a battle when cannon have roar'd,
And heroes have fallen whom the country adored,
Where danger was great, there Ben you might find,
For Old England his life he'd have freely resigned.
His duty none better than Ben ever knew,

He fought as a true British seaman should do.
When the battle was done, o'er his grog he would sing,
Here's success to Old England, and long live the king!

RAISING THE DEVIL.

A LEGEND OF ALBERTUS MAGNUS.

"And hast thou nerve enough ?" he said, That grey Old Man, above whose head Unnumber'd years had rolled,

"And hast thou nerve to view," he cried, "The incarnate Fiend that Heaven defied ? "Art thou indeed so bold?

"Say, canst thou, with unshrinking gaze, "Sustain, rash youth, the withering blaze "Of that unearthly eye,

"That blasts where'er it lights,-the breath "That, like the Simoom, scatters death "On all that yet can die!

"Darest thou confront that fearful form, "That rides the whirlwind and the storm "In wild unholy revel?

"The terrors of that blasted brow, "Archangel's once, though ruin'd nowAy,-darest thou face THE DEVIL ?"

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"I dare!" the desperate Youth replied, And placed him by that Old Man's side, In fierce and frantic glee,

Unblenched his cheek, and firm his limb; "No paltry juggling fiend, but HIM! "THE DEVIL-I fain would see!

"In all his Gorgon terrors clad,

"His worst, his fellest shape!" the Lad Rejoined in reckless tone.

"Have then thy wish!" Albertus said,
And sigh'd, and shook his hoary head,
With many a bitter groan.

He drew the mystic circle's bound,
With skull and cross-bones fenced around;

He traced full many a sigil there;
He mutter'd many a backward prayer,
That sounded like a curse-

"He comes!"-he cried with wild grimace,
"The fellest of Apollyon's race!"—
Then in his startled pupil's face

He dash'd-an EMPTY PURSE!!

THE IRISH GHOST.

In days of yore, but since the flood,
Whilst Teague in bed was snoring,
A spectre 'fore him ghastly stood,
And woke him with its roaring.

No nose it had, nor e'er an eye,
Nor mouth to eat its bread;
And would you know the reason why,
Alas! it had no head!

With horrid gape Teague view'd the sprite, Then cried, Ah! now be spaking!

And aise me from my sad affright,

And tell me if I'm waking ?"

Arrah, my dear!" the shade replied, "I cannot spake you now!

"But I'm thy father's ghost, who died, "Beheaded-G-d knows how !"

"Alack, poor ghost!" the son exclaim'd, "No wonder thou'rt not frisky, "For he most surely must be d-d, "Who cannot drink his whiskey."

"Ah! honey, true!" the spirit resumed, "Therefore I leave thee dead; "And that I mayn't to h― be doom'd, "I'm looking for my head!"

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