ODE TO TERROR.

MONARCH of the gloomy train!
Which haunt the fear-distracted brain;
I feel I feel, my laboring breast,
Grim Terror, by thy potent spells possess'd:
As thy dismal scenes unfold,

The flagging stream of life grows cold;

My trembling limbs, my bristly hair,

My hurried breath, and starting eye,

Fix'd, tho' blasted-all declare,

Tremendous power, thy ghastly form is nigh!

Upborn by thee, amid the darken'd air,

Now dimly breaks the boiling deep below;

While the livid lightnings glare—

While the raging whirlwinds blow!

Hark! by starts, what mournful cries

'Mid the mingled storm arise!

Some vessel strikes, with sudden shock,
Upon the lurking pointed rock:

O mercy! hear the dying crew!

See how aloft the straining surge they gain!
"Tis past-the dim discover'd fragments view,
Snatch'd in wild eddies o'er the fiery main.
Their agonizing cries are o'er-

Deep, deep they sink-to rise no more.

Too well that cruel smile I read,

Turn'd on the spot, where thousands soon must bleed,
Whose bright arms, gleaming from afar,
Now swell the savage pomp of war.

As array'd, on either hand,

Front to front the squadrons stand;
Ere the shrieks of death resound-
Ere they bite the crimson ground;
See grim Havoc, hot from hell,
With all the furies in her train,
Hovering low, with dire delight,
"Twixt the closing ranks of fight;
Prepar'd the tide of blood to swell,
And scour the groaning plain :
Now the thundering peals arise,
Vengeful shouts and dying cries;

Till Victory waves her purple flag on high,
And echoing triumph rends the tortur'd sky.

'Tis night! now o'er the silent field,
By the pale moon's light reveal'd,
I see thee steal to view the feast of death!
To hear the faint expiring groan,

The mutter'd prayer, the hollow moan,
The parch'd throat gasping hard for breath;
Arm'd with a dagger deep imbru'd,

While coward Rapine prowls the slippery plain,

And giant Slaughter, smear'd with blood,

Reclines his weary limbs on heaps of slain!

But who is she? Misfortune's child,

With hurried step, and aspect wild,

Who hither seems to move?

And bending oft, surveys each pallid face,
As if she wish'd some friend to trace ?
Alas! she seeks her love!

And, lo! his breathless corpse she spies-
She cannot weep-swift frenzy lights her eyes,
She shrieks, she falls, and on his mangled bosom
dies.

Now waving high, in proud disdain,
His broad red pinions o'er the tainted plain,
See savage War exulting flies,

Wafted on a million's sighs,

Where Ambition points the road,
Scenting afar new scenes of blood;
Yet, wherefore lag yon fiends behind,

By earth accurst-by life abhorr'd-
Wheeling, like vultures, on the infected wind,
Dreadful followers of the sword?
Famine and pestilence! I know you now,
The country's blasted as you tread;
The groaning city's chok'd with dead,
Your horrid work's complete!
No face is seen, no sounds arise,
Save where some wretch infected flies,
And screams along the empty street!

Grim power! O spare my aching sight,
Nor call thy foul unreal train to light,
By Superstition formed of old,

In sickly Fancy's giant mold!

Yet, lo! they come along the midnight air
What spectres dire in wild confusion sweep!
See by yon dim and dismal glare,

At once they sink into the yawning deep;
While faintly from the gulf below,
Rise the shrieks of tortur'd woe!

Now deep within the tangled dell, I hear the wisard's mutter'd spell:

Round him fit a ghastly brood-
The setting moon is turn'd to blood!
Prompt his orders to perform,
Rush the spirits of the storm;
Pitchy darkness veils the skies-
Piping loud the winds arise.
Hark! they howl along the heath,
While the fiends, with mournful yell,
To the benighted wretch foretel,

Scenes of woe and death!

The storm is past! and o'er yon mouldering tower Steals through yon sable clouds a silvery beam: Avaunt! thou visionary power,

Nor lead me to the haunted stream, That laves its ivy'd walls.

In vain-its gloomy paths I tread ;

What horrid phantom now my sight appals?

From the green pavement bursts the shrouded dead;

A clear blue flame conducts it through the gloom, 'Mid broken ruins to the fatal room;

And now it points the blood-stain'd bed!

-The firm-built turret shakes, with dismal sound, 'Mid lonely courts that spread their echoes round; The iron clank of chains I hear,

While shrieks of torture swell more near.

Scarce the crazy boards uphold

The armed spectres that advance;

While one behind, of horrid mold,

Impels them with his fiery-barbed lance; And oft, transfixing each, in fury, cries, 'Thus, every hour, the guilty murderer dies!'

Fearful yawns the dark profound! Muttering thunders heave the ground!

Down, through her riven entrails, lo! we sweep, "Till a dim distant light just glimmers from the deep. Behold the damned crew

O'er the furnace blue;

By the brimstone's livid flame,

66

Doing a deed without a name:"

Around them heavier hangs the cavern'd gloom:
While summon'd to foretel

The dark designs of hell;

In accents dread the monstrous throng,
Chaunt the strange prophetic song,

And write, in blood, the fated warrior's doom.

EPIGRAM.

NED's thrifty spouse, her taste to please,
With rival dames at auctions vies;
Is charm'd with every thing she sees,
And every thing she sees she buys:

Ned feels at every sale enchanted-
Such costly wares! so wisely sought!
Bought because they may be wanted,
Wanted because they may be bought.

S. W.