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Others opined that through the realms u dole

Be made to holy men, whose prayers might profit The Suit urn's weal in body and in soul; .

But their long-headed chief, the Sheik Ul-Sofit, More closely touch'd the point:—« Thy studious mood,i Quoth he, « 0 prince! hath thicken'd all thy blood, And dull'd thy brain with labour beyond measure; Wherefore relax a space and take thy pleasure, And toy with beauty or tell o'er (hy treasure; From all the cares of state, my liege, enlarge thee, And leave the burthen to thy faithful clcrgy.w

These counsels sitfe availed not a whit,

And so the patient (as is not uncommon
Where grave physicians lose their time and wit)

Resolved to take advice of an old woman;
His mother she, a dame who once was beauteous,
And still was call'd so by each subject duteous.
Now, whether Fatima was witch in earnest,

Or only made believe, I cannot say—
But she profess'd to cure disease the sternest,

By dint of magic amulet or lay;
And, when all other skill in vain was shown.
She deem'd it fitting time to use her own.

« Sympalhia magica hath wonders done,*

(Thus did old Fatima bespeak her son),

« It works upon the fibres and the pores,

And thus, insensibly, our health restores,

And it must help us here.—Thou must endure

The ill, my son, or travel for the cure.

Search land and sea, and get, where'er you can,

The inmost vesture of a happy man,

I mean his Shirt, my son, which, taken warm

And fresh from off his back, shall chase your harm,

Bid every current of your veins rejoice,

And your dull heart leap light as shepherd-boy's.*

Such was the counsel from his mother came.

I know not if she had some under-game,

As doctors Iwve, who bid their patients roam

An 1 live abroad, when sure to die at home;

Or if she thought, that, somehow or another,

Queen Regent sounded better than Queen Mother;

Rut, says the Chronicle (who will go look it ?)

That such was her advice—the Sultaun took it.

All arc on hoard—the Sultaun and his train,
In gilded galley prompt to plough the main:

The old Rata1 was the first who question'd, "Whither?" They paused—« Arabia,* thought the pensive prince, « Was call'd The Happy many ages since—

For Muklia. Rais.»—And they came safely thither. But not in Ant by with all her halm, Nor where Judaea weeps beneath her palm, Not in rich Egypt, not in Nubian waste, Could there the step of Happiness be traced. One Copt alone profess'd tn have seen her smile, When Bruce his goblet fill'd at infant Nile; She bless'd the dauntless traveller as he quaffd. But vauish'd from him with the ended draught.

« Enough of turbans," said the weary king, "Thesedoliraans of ours are not the thing;

'.Muter of iho Tcttjl.

Try we the Giaours, these men of coat and cap, I
Incline to think some of them must be happy;
At least they have as fair a cause as any can,
They drink good wine, and keep no Ramazan.
Then northward, ho !» The vessel cuts the sea.
And fair Italia lies upon her Ice.—
But fair Italia, she who once unfurfd
Her eagle banners o'er a conquer'd world,
Long from her throne of domination tumbled.
Lay, by her quondam vassals, sorely humbled;
The Pope himself look'd pensive, pale, and lean,
And was not half the man he once had been.
« While these the priest and those the uoble fleets.
Our poor old boot,"' they said, « is torn to pieces.
Its tops1 the vengeful claws of Austria feel,
And the Great Devil is rending toe and heel.3
If happiness you seek, to tell vou truly.
We think she dwells with one Giovanni Bulli;
A tramontane, a heretic,—the buck,
Poffaredio I still has all the luck;
By land or ocean never strikes his flag—
And then—a perfect walking money-bag.*
Off set our prince to seek John Bull's abode.
But first took France—it lay upou the road.

Monsieur Baboon, after much late commotion.
Was agitated like a settling ocean,
Quite out of sorts, and could not tell whatail'd him,
l Only the glory of his house had fail'd him;
Besides, some tumours on his noddle biding.
Gave indication of a recent hiding.<
Our prince, though Sultauus of such things are heed-
less,
Thought it a thing indelicate and needless

To ask, if at thatmomeut he was happy.
And Monsieur, seeing that he was comme ilfaut, *
Loud voice muiter'd up, for « Vive le Roi!»

Then vvhisper'd, « Ave you any news of Nappy'•
The Sultaun auswer'd him with a cross question.—

wPr.iy, can you tell mc aught of one John Bull,

That dwells somewhere beyond your herring-pool '•
j The query scem'd of difficult digestion,
The party shrugg'd, and grinn'd, and took bis naff.
And found his whole good breeding scarce enough.

Twitching his visage into as many puckers
As damsels wont to put into their tuckers

; (Ere liberal Fashion damn'd both lace;ind I two.
And bade the veil of modesty be drawn),

I Replied the Frenchman, after a brief pause,
« Jean Pool!—I vas not know him—yes, I vas—

| 1 vas remember dat von year or two,

; I saw him at von place cail'd Vaterloo—

j Ma foi! it s'est tres-jolinient battu.
Hat is for Englishman,—m'eutendcx-vous?
But den he had wit him vou damn son-gun.
Rogue I no like—dcy call him \>llington.u
Monsieur's politeness could not hide his fret.
So Solimauu took leave and cross'd the strcigbt.

1 The woll-known resemhlitnee of Italy in the nap.

* Florence, Venire, etc

1 The f.n!ubri»i, iufrtieJ hy bandi of ttuulu. Oaa ■*"»■* leadm «im inlled Fra btavclo. i. t Brother DeriL

* Or drubbing, to calltxl in the Slang dictionary.

John Bull was in his very worst of moods,
Riving of sterile farms and unsold goods;
Hts sugar-loaves and bales about he threw,
And •!] his counter beat the devil's tattoo.
His wars were ended, and the victory won.
Dm then 't was reckoning-day with honest John,
And authors vouch 't was still this worthy's way,
« Never to grumble till he came to pay;
And then he always thinks, his temper's such,
The work too little, and the pay too much.n1
Yet, grumbler as he is, so kind and hearty,
That when his mortal foe was on the floor,
And past the power to harm his quiet more,
Poor John had well nigh wept for Bonaparte!
Such was the wight whom Solimaun salam'd,—

■ And who arc you,» John answer'd, « and be d—d ?»

« A stranger, come to see the happiest man,—
So, seignior, all avouch,—in Frangistan.n—2
« Happy! my tenants breaking ou my hand 1
I nstock'd my pastures, and untill'd my land;
Sugar and rum a drug, and mice and moths
The sole consumers of my good broad-cloths—
Happy! why, curbed war and racking tax
Have left us scarcely raiment to our backs.)*
«In that case. Seignior, I may take my leave;

I came to ask a favour—but I grieve »

« Favour?* said John, and eyed the Sultaun hard,

■ H s my belief you came to break the yard !— But, stay, you look like some poor foreign sinner,— Take that, to buy yourself a shirt and dinncr.n— «iih that he chuck'd a guinea at Ins head;

But, with due dignity, the Sultaun said,—

« Permit mc, sir. your bounty to decline;

A Airf indeed I seek, but none of thine.

Sf'ipnior, I kiss your hands, so fare you well.»

* Kiss and he d—d,» quoth John, « and go to hell!»

Ne« door to John there dwelt his lister Peg,
Once a wild lass ;is ever shook a leg,
^licn the blithe bagpipe blew—but soberer now,
She doucely span her flax and milk'd her cow.
And whereas erst she was a needy slattern,
•W now of wealth or cleanliness a pattern,
•*t once a-month her house was partly swept,
And once a-weok a plenteous board she kept.
And whereas eke the vixen used her claws.

And teeth, of yore, on slender provocation,
Mie now was grown amenable to laws,
A quiet soul as any in the nation;
ie so'e remembrance of her warlike joys

Vl*> m old songs she sing to please her boys.

•mn Bull, whom, in their vears of early strife, shc wont to lead a cat-and-doggish life, - °w found the woman, as he said, a neighbour, 0 look'd to the main chance, declined no labour,

"Tp<* a l°ng grace, and spoke a northern jargon,

ad was d d close in making of a bargain.

ToeSoJtaun enter'd, and he made his leg,
And win, decorum curtsied sister Peg;
(She loved a book, and knew a thing or two,
Aai guess'd at once with whom she had to do.)

SwtbeTrue-born Enj;'i*Lmaii. Ly Daniel <',; Tor.
"rope.

She bade him «sit into the fire,» and took
Her dram, her cake, her kebbock from the nook;
Ask'd him «about the news from eastern parts;
And of her absent bairus, puir Highland hearts!
If peace* brought down the price of lea and pepper,
And if the nitmugs were grown ony cheaper?—
Were there nac specrings of our Mungo Park—
Ye '11 be the gentleman that wants the sark?
If ye wad buy a web o' auld wife's spinning,
I 11 warrant ye it's a wcel-wcaring linen.>»

Then up got Peg, and round the house *gan scuttle,

In search of goods her customer to nail, Until the Sultaun strain'd his princely throttle,

Aud hollow'd,—« Ma'am, that is not what I ail. Pray, are you happy, ma'am, in this snug glen?» « Happy !» said Peg; « What for d've want to ken? Besides, just think upon this hy-gane year,

Grain wadna pay the yoking of the pleugh.» « What say you to the present ?»—« Meal's sae dear,

To mak their brose my bairns have scarce aneugh.n •<Tln' devil take the shirt,» said Solimaun, ■ I think my quest will end as it began. Farewell, ma'am; nay, no ceremony, I beg—» « Yc 'II no be for the linen then ?» said Peg.

Now, for the land of verdant Erin,

The Sultaun's royal bark is steering,

The emerald Isle where honest Paddy dwells,

The cousin of John Bull, as story tells.

For a long space had John, with words of thunder,

Hard looks, and harder knocks, kept Paddy under,

Till the poor lad, like boy that s flogg'd unduly,

Had gotten somewhat restive and unruly.

Hard was his lot and lodging, you '11 allow,

A wigwam that would hardly serve a sow;

His landlord, and of middlemen two brace,

Had screw'd his rent up to the starving place;

His garment was a top-coat, and an old one,

His meal was a potatoe, and a cold one;

But still for fun or frolic, and all that,

In the round world was not the match of Pat.

The Sultaun saw him on a holiday,

Which is with Paddy still a jolly day:

When mass is ended, and his load of sins

Gonfess'd, and Mother Church hath from her bions

Dealt forth a bonus of imputed merit,

Then is Pat's lime for fancy, whim, and spirit!

To jest, to sing, to caper fair and free,

Aud dance as light as leaf upon the tree.

<« By Mahomet," said Sultaun Solimaun,

« That ragged fellow is our verv man!

Bush in aud seize him—do not do him hurt.

But, will he nill he, let me have his shirt.»

Shilela their plan was well nigh after baulking j (Much less provocation will set it a-walking), I But the odds that foil'd Hercules foil'd Paddy Whack;

They seized, and they lloor'd, and they stripp'd him— Alack! I Up-bubboo! Paddy bad not——a shirt to his back!!.' I And the king, disappointed, with sorrow and shame, i Went hack to Screndib as sad as he came.

THE POACHER.

A FRAGMENT.

Welcome, grare stranger, to our green retreats,

Where health with exercise and freedom meets!

Thrice welcome, sage, whose philosophic plan

By Nature's limits metes the rights of man;

Generous as he, who now for freedom bawls,

Now gives full value for true Indian shawls;

O'er court, o'er custom-house, his shoe who flings,

Now bilks excisemen, and now bullies kings.

Like his, 1 ween, thy comprehensive mind

Holds laws as mouse-traps baited for mankind;

Thine eye, applausive, each sly vermin sees,

That baulks the snare, yet battens on the cheese;

Thine ear has heard, withscoru instead of awe.

Our buckskin'd justices expound the law,

Wire-draw the acts that fix for wires the pain,

And for the netted partridge noose the swain;

And thy vindictivcarm would fain have broke

The last light fetter of (he feudal yoke.

To give the denizens of wood and wild,

Nature's free race, to each her free-born child.

Hence hast thou mark'd, with grief, fair London's race

Mock'd with the boon of one poor Easter chace,

And long'd to send them forth as free as when

Pour'd o'er Chantilly the Parisian train.

When musket, pistol, blunderbuss combined,

And scarce the field-pieces were left behind!

A squadroo's charge each leveret's heart dismay'd,

On every covey fired a bold brigade:

La Douce Huinanite approved the sport.

For great the alarm indued, yet small the hurt;

Shouts patriotic solemnized the day,

Aud Seine re-echo'd five la Liberte!

But mad Cito/en, meek Monsieur again.

With some few added links resumes bis chain;

Then since such scenes to Frauce no more are known,

Come, view with me a hero of thine own!

One, whose free actions vindicate the cause

Of sylvan liberty o'er feudal laws.

Seek we yon glades, where the proud oak o'ertops
Wide-waving seas of birch and hazel copse,
Leaving between deserted isles of land,
Where stunted heath is pa lei id with ruddy sand;
And lonely on the waste the yew is seen,
Or strangling hollies spread a brighter green.
Here, little worn, and winding dark aud steep,
Our scarcc-mark'd path descends yon dingle deep:
Follow—but heedful, cautious of a trip.
In earthly mire philosophy may slip.
Step slow and wary o'er that swampy stream,
Till, guided by the charcoal's smothering steam,
We reach the frail yet barricaded door
Of hovel form'd for poorest of the poor;
No hearth the fire, no vent the smoke receives,
The walls are wattles, and the covering leaves;
For, if such hut, our forest statutes say,
Uise in the progress of one night and day
(Though placed where still the Conquerors bests o'er

awe,
And his son's stirrup shines the badge of law),
The builder claims the unenviable boon.
To tenant dwelling, framed as slight and soon

As wigwam wild, that shrouds the native frore

On the bleak coast of frost-barr'd Labrador.1 .

Approach, and through the unlatticed window peep. Nay, shrink not back,the inmate is asleep; Sunk mid yon sordid blankets, till the sua Stoop to the west, the plunderer's toils arc done. Loaded and primed, and prompt from desperate hand. Rifle and fowling-piece beside him stand, While round the hut arc in disorder laid The tools and booty of his lawless trade; For force or fraud, resistance or escape, The crow, the saw, the bludgeon, and the crape. His pilfer'd powder in yon nook he hoards, Aud the filch'd lead the church's roof affords— (Hence shall the rector's congregation fret. That while his sermon s dry, his wills are wet.) The fish-spear barb'd, the sweeping net are there. Doc-hides, and pheasant plumes, aud skins of hare, Cordage for toils, and wiring for the snare. Barter'd for game from chase or warren won, Yon cask holds moonlight,1 run when inoon was none: Aud late-snatch'd spoils lie slow'd in hutch apart, To wait the associate higgler's evening cart.

Look on his pallet foul, and mark his rest:
What scenes perlurb'd are acting in his breast!
His sable brow is wet and wrung with pain,
Aud his dilated nostril toils in vain.
For short and scant the breath each effort draws.
And 'twixt each effort Nature claims a pause.
Beyond the loose and sable neckcloth slreteh'd.
His sinewy throat seems by convulsion twiteb'd,
While the tongue falters, as to utterance loth.
Sounds of dire import—watch-word, threat, and «6
Though, stupified by toil and drug^'d with gin,
The body sleep, the restless guest within
Now plies on wood and wold his lawless trade,
Now in the fangs of justice wakes dismay'd.—

« Was that wild start of terror and despair.
Those bursting eye-balls, and that wilder'd air.
Signs of compunction for a murder'd hare?
Do the locks bristle and the eye-brows arcli.
For grouse or partridge massacred in March ?*

I

No, scoffer, no! Atleud, aud mark with awe. There is no wicket in the gate of law! Me, that would e'er so lightly set ajar Th.it awful portal must undo each bar; Tempting occasion, habit, passion, pride. Will join to storm the breach, and force the barrier wit.

That ruffian, whom true men avoid and dread. Whom bruUers, poachers, smugglers, call Black 5ri Was Edward Mansell once;—the lightest heart, That ever play'd on holiday his part! The leader he in every Christmas game. The harvest feast grew blither when he came,

'Soch it lh« law in the New Forett, n»m)nWro, t*»ila* r-w* to increas* lb* variom teulemrim of thi*Te«. ung|Wt, wJ*•leaicrt, «bo iafeit it. In the forfit court* tike pretklia; !-* * \vp2i-* ■» » taJfle of office na ann<|u* stirrup, tmii to fcttr •—* ttiat of Willi** Rafu». See Mr William Botr'a tpirittd j**- *•" titled .Ths Red King-

* A caul nans for isaa^led ipiriu.

And liveliest on the chords the bow did glance,

When Edward named the tunc and led the dance.

Kin.1 was his heart, his passions quick and strong,

Hearty his laugh, and jovial was his song;

And if he loved a gun, his father swore,

■ T vas but a trick of youth would soon be o'er;

Himielf had done the same sonic thirty years before.*

But he, whose humours spurn law's awful yoke, Must herd with those by whom law's bonds are broke. Tlir common dread of justice soon allies The clown, who robs the warren or excise, With sterner felons train'd to act more dread. E'en with the wretch by whom his fellow bled. Then, as in plagues the foul contagions pass, Leavening and festering the corrupted mass,— Guilt leagues with guilt, while mutual motives draw, Their hope impunity, their fear the law; Their foes, their friends, their rendezvous the same, Till the revenue haulk'd, or pilfer'd game, Fteh the young culprit, and example leads To darker villany and direr deeds. •

Wild howl'd the wind the forest glades along, And oft the owl renew'd her dismal song; Around the spot where erst he felt the wound, Rnl William's spectre walk'd his midnight round. When o'er the swamp lie cast his blighting look, From the green marshes of the stagnant brook The hi item's sullen shout the sedges shook; The waning moon, with storm-presaging gleam, Nowjjaveand sow withheld her doubtful beam; The old oak stoop d his arms, then fluag them high, Bellowing and groaning to the troubled sky— Twas then, that, couch'd amid the brushwood sere In M;ilwood-walk, young Mansell watch'd the deer: The fattest buck received his deadly shot— The watchful keeper heard, and sought the spot. Stout were their hearts, aud stubboru was their strife, OVrpower'd at length the outlaw drew his knife! Nfxtmorn a corpse was found upou the fell— The rest his waking agony may tell!

THE DANCE OF DEATH.

Night and morning were at meeting

Over Waterloo;
Cocks had sung their earliest greeting,

Faint and low they crew,
For no paly beam yet shone
On the heights of Mount Saint John;
Tempest-clouds prolong'd the sway
Of timeless darkness over day;
Whirlwind, thunder-clap, and shower,
Mark'd it a predestined hour.
Broad and frequent through the night
Flash'd the sheets of levin-light;
Muskets, glancing lightnings back,
Show'd the dreary bivouack

Where the soldier lay, Chill and stiff, and drench'd with rain, Wishing dawn of morn again,

Though death should come with day.

T is at such a tide and hour,

Wizard, witch, and fiend have power,

And ghastly forms through mist and shower,

Gleam on the gifted ken;
And then the affrighted prophet's ear
Drinks whispers strange of fate and fear,
Presaging death and ruin near

Among the sons of men :—
Apart from Albyn's war-array,
T was then gray Allan sleepless lay;
Gray Allan, who, for many a day,

Mad follow'd stout and stern.
Where through battle's rout and reel,
Storm of shot and hedge of steel,
Led the grandson of Lochiel,

Valiant Fassiefern.
Through steel and shot he leads no more,
Low-laid 'mid friends' aud focmeu's gore—
But long his native lake's wild shore,
And Sun.trt rough, aud high Ardgower,

And Morven long shall tell,
And proud Men Nevis hear with awe,
How, upon bloody Ouatre-Bras,
Brave Camerou heard the wild hurra

Of conquest as he fell.

'Lone on the outskirts of the host,

The weary sentinel held post.

And heard, through darkness far aloof,

The frequent c!aug of roursi-r's hoof,

Wrhere held the cloak'd patrole their course,

And spurr'd gamst storm the swerving horse;

But there arc sounds in Allan's car,

Patrole nor sentinel may hear.

And sights hefov? his eye aghast

Invisible to them have pass'd.

When down the destined plain
Twixt Britain and the hands of France,
Wild as marsh-borne meteors glance,
Strange phantoms wheel'd a revel'dance.

And doom'd the future slain.—
Such forms were seen, such sounds were heard,
When Scotland's James his march prepared

For Flodden's fatal plain;
Such, when he drew his ruthless sword.
As Chusers of the Slain, adored

The yet unchristen'd Dane.
An indistinct and phantom hand,
They wheel'd their ring-dance hand in hand.

With gesture wild and dread;
The seer, who watch'd them ride the storm,
Saw through their faint and shadowy form

The lightning's flash more red;
And still their ghastly roundelay
Was of the corning battle-fray,

And of the destined dead.

Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud.
And call the brave
To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Our airy feel.
So light and fleet,

They do Dot bend the rye,
That sinks its head when whirlwinds rave,
And swells again in eddying wave,

As each wild gust blows by;
But still the corn,
At dawn of morn,

Our fat.il steps that bore,
At eve lies waste,
A trampled paste

Of blackening mud and gore.

Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,
And call the brave
To bloody grave.

To sleep without a shroud.

Wheel the wild dance.
Brave sons of Franrc!

For you our ring makes room;
Makes sp.iee full wide
For martial pride,

For banner, spear, and plume.
Approach, draw near,
Proud cuirassier!

Boom for the men of steel!
Through crest and plate,
The broadsword's weight

Both head and heart shall feel.

Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance.

And thunders rattle loud,
And call the brave
To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Sons of the spear!
You feel us near,

In many a ghastly dream;
With fancy's eye
Our forms you spy,

And hear our fatal scream.
With clearer sight
Ere falls the night,

Just when to weal or woe
Your disembodied souls take flight
On trembling wiug—each startled sprite

Our choir of death shall know.

Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance.

And thunders rattle loud.
And call the brave
To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Burst, ye clouds, in tempest showers,
Redder rain shall soon be ours~-

See, the cast grows wan—
Yield we place to sterner game.
Ere deadlier bolts and drearier flame

Shall the welkin's thunders shame;
Elemental rage is tame
To the wrath of man.

At morn, gray Allan's mates with awe
Ueard of the vision'd sights he saw,

The legend heard him say;
But the seer's gifted eye was dim,
Deafen'd his ear, and stark his limb,

Ere closed that bloody day—
He sleeps far from his Highland heath,—
But often of the Danre of Death

His comrades tell the tale On piquet-post, when'ebbs the night. Aud waning watch-fires glow less bright,

And dawu is glimmeriug pale.

FAREWELL TO THE MUSE.

Enchantress, farewell, who so oft hast decoy J mf

At the close of the evening through woodlandslorMt Where the forester, laled, with wonder espied m<

Explore the wild scenes he was quitting for bomr Farewell, and take with thee thy numbers wild sprat"?

The language alternate of rapture aud woe; Oh! none but some lover, whose heart-strinp if breaking,

The pang that I feci at our parting can know.

Each joy thou couldsl double, and when there a<x sorrow.

Or pale disappointment, to darken my way, What voice was like thine, that could siogof io-aio(Tt»

Till forgot in the straiu was the grief of to-diy' But when friends drop around us in lifc'swrirjw**

The grief, ipieen of uumbers. thou canst not a*03.* Nor llie gradual estrangement of those yet reouiMt

The languor of pain, aud the dullness of age

T was thou that once taught me, in accents bewxi^

To sing how a warrior lay stretcli'd on the phu. And a maiden hung o'er him with aid unaiailmg.

And held to his lips the cold goblet in vain; As vain those enchaotments. O queen of wild nani^

To a bard when the reign of his fancy is oer. And the quick pulse of feeling in apathy slumbers

Farcwcll then—Enchantress !—I meet theew"0"

EPITAPH ON MRS ERSKJNE.

Plain, as her native dignity of mind.
Arise the tomb of her we have resign'd:
Unflaw'd and stainless be the marble scroll.
Emblem of lovely form, and candid soul.—
But, oh! what symbol may avail, to tell
The kindness, wit, and sense, Ve loved so well!
What sculpture show the broken tics of life,
Here buried with the parent, friend, and wife!
Or, on the tablet, stamp each title dear.
By which thine urn, Ecphkwu, claims the tear;
Yet, taught, by thy incek sufferance, to as>unir
Patience in anguish, hope beyond the tomb,
Resign'd, though sad, this votive verse shall flow.
And brief, alas! as thy brief span below.

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