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Heavily I rose up, as soon

As light was in the sky,
And sought the black accursed pool

With a wild misgiving eye;
And I saw the dead in the river bed,

For the faithless stream was dry !

6. Merrily rose the lark, and shook

The dew-drop from its wing;
But I never mark'd its morning flight,

I never heard it sing :
For I was stooping once again

Under the horrid thing.

“ With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,

I took him up and ran,
There was no time to dig a grave

Before the day began:
In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves

I hid the murder'd man!

“And all that day I read in school,

But my thought was other where;
As soon as the mid-day task was done,

In secret I was there :
And a mighty wind had swept the leaves,

And still the corse was bare !

66 Then down I cast me on my face,

And first began to weep;
For I knew my secret then was one

That earth refused to keep :
Or land, or sea, though he should be

Ten thousand fathoms deep!

“Oh boy! that horrid, horrid dream

Besets me now awake!
Again-again, with a dizzy brain,

The human life I take;
And my red right hand grows raging hot

Like Cranmer's at the stake.

“ And still no peace for the restless clay

Will wave or mould allow;
The horrid thing pursues my soul,-

It stands before me now !”
The fearful boy looked up,

and Huge drops upon his brow!


That very night, while gentle sleep

The urchin's eyelids kiss'd, Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,

Through the cold and heavy mist; And Eugene Aram walk'd between,

With gyves upon his wrist.

[blocks in formation]

FT wins my admiration To view the structure of that little work A bird's nest. Mark it well within, without: No tool had she that wrought; no knife to cut; No nail to fix; no bodkin to insert : No glue to join; her little beak was all. And yet how nicely finish'd! What nice hand, With every implement and means of art, And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot, Could make me such another?


BORN 1819.
DIED 1875.

OTHER WRITINGS.- The Roman and the Teuton ; Madam Hou and Lady

Why; Town Geology; and a number of Novels.

The Last Buccaneer

. ,

H, England is a pleasant place for them that's rich and high, But England is a cruel place for such poor folks

as I ;


And such a port for mariners I ne'er shall see

again As the pleasant Isle of Avès,* beside the Spanish


There were forty craft in Avès that were both

swift and stout, All furnished well with small arms and cannons

round about; And a thousand men in Avès made laws so fair

and free To choose their valiant captains and obey them


Thence we sailed against the Spaniard with his

hoards of plate and gold, Which he wrung with cruel tortures from Indian

folk of old; Likewise the merchant captains, with hearts as

hard as stone, Who flog men and keel-haul them, and starve

them to the bone.

Oh the palms grew high in Avès, and fruits that

shone like gold, And the colibris

and parrots

they were gorgeous to behold;

* AVES.-An island in the Caribbean sea, north of South America. + SPANISH MAIN.–The sea near the Spanish West Indies.

And the negro maids to Avès from bondage fast

did flee, To welcome gallant sailors, a-sweeping in from


Oh sweet it was in Avès to hear the landward

breeze A-swing with good tobacco in a net between

the trees, With a negro lass to fan you,


you listened to the roar Of the breakers on the reef outside, that never

touched the shore.

But Scripture saith, an ending to all fine things

must be ; So the King's ships sailed on Avès, and quite put

down were we. All day we fought like bull-dogs, but they burst

the booms at night; And I fled in a piragua, sore wounded, from the

fight. Nine days I floated starving, and a negro lass

beside, Till for all I tried to cheer her, the poor young

thing she died; But as I lay a gasping, a Bristol sail came by, And brought me home to England here, to beg

until I die.

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