The knight then went as usual every day, But spouse within, who'd watch'd all this proceeding, But short, alas! the joys allow'd to mortal, 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 Return'd again, once more the trick they play, Cudgell'd him well-then hurl'd him headlong in !- THE FELON. O, mark his wan and hollow cheek! Know, since three days, his penance borne, And since three days no food has pass'd "Where shall I turn ?" the wretch exclaims "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 "The scorners both deny "I starve! I starve!-Then what remains? "This choice-to SIN or DIE ! "Here virtue spurns me with disdain ; "There's mercy in each ray of light There's mercy both for bird and beast "There's mercy in each creeping thing- "Ye proudly honest! when ye heard "Had fix'd my heart, assur'd my faith, BEN CABLE; OR, THE BIRTH OF A BRITISH TAR. One night, 'twas at sea, in the midst of a storm, On board, from his youth till to manhood he grew, Though the white foaming billows then ran mountains [high, In many a battle when cannon have roar'd, He fought as a true British seaman should do. 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 ?" 66 "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, He drew the mystic circle's bound, He traced full many a sigil there; "He comes!"-he cried with wild grimace, He dash'd-an EMPTY PURSE!! THE IRISH GHOST. In days of yore, but since the flood, No nose it had, nor e'er an eye, 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!" |