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Like waves that follow o'er the sea,
Came thickly thundering on,
As if our faint approach to meet;
The sight re-nerved my courser's feet,
A moment staggering, feebly fleet,
A moment, with a faint low neigh,
He answer'd, and then fell;
With gasps and glazing eyes he lay,
And reeking limbs immoveable,
His first and last career is done!

On came the troop-they saw him stoop,
They saw me strangely bound along
His back with many a bloody thong:
They stop-they start-they snuff the air,
Gallop a moment here and there,
Approach, retire, wheel round and round,
Then plunging back with sudden bound,
Headed by one black mighty steed,
Who seem'd the patriarch of his breed,
Without a single speck or hair
Of white upon his shaggy hide;

The wretch still hopes his woes must end,
And Death, whom he should deem his friend,
Appears, to his distemper'd eyes,
Arrived to rob him of his prize,
The tree of his new Paradise.
To-morrow would have given him all,
Repaid his pangs, repair'd his fall;
To-morrow would have been the first
Of days no more deplored or curst,
But bright, and long, and beckoning years,
Seen dazzling through the mist of tears,
Guerdon of many a painful hour;
To-morrow would have given him power
To rule, to shine, to smite, to save—
And must it dawn upon his grave?

"The sun was sinking-still I lay
Chain'd to the chill and stiffening steed,
I thought to mingle there our clay;
And my dim eyes of death had need,

They snort, they foam, neigh, swerve aside, No hope arose of being freed:

And backward to the forest fly,
By instinct from a human eye.--
They left me there, to my despair,
Link'd to the dead and stiffening wretch,
Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch,
Relieved from that unwonted weight,
From whence I could not extricate
Nor him nor me-and there we lay,
The dying on the dead!

I little deem'd another day
Would see my houseless, helpless head.

“And there from morn till twilight bound,
I felt the heavy hours toil round,
With just enough of life to see
My last of suns go down on me,
In hopeless certainty of mind,

That makes us feel at length resign'd
To that which our foreboding years
Presents the worst and last of fears
Inevitable even a boon,

Nor more unkind for

coming soon;

Yet shunn'd and dreaded with such care,
As if it only were a snare

That prudence might escape:

At times both wish'd for and implored,
At times sought with self-pointed sword,
Yet still a dark and hideous close
To even intolerable woes,
And welcome in no shape.

And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure,
They who have revell'd beyond measure
In beauty, wassail, wine, and treasure,
Die calm, or calmer, oft than he
Whose heritage was misery:

For he who hath in turn run through
All that was beautiful and new,

Hath nought to hope, and nought to leave;
And, save the future (which is view'd
Not quite as men are base or good,
But as their nerves may be endued,)
With nought perhaps to grieve: -

I cast my last looks up the sky,
And there between me and the sun
I saw the expecting raven fly

Who scarce would wait till both should die,
Ere his repast begun;

He flew, and perch'd, then flew once more,
And each time nearer than before;

I saw his wing through twilight flit,
And once so near me he alit

I could have smote, but lack'd the strength;
But the slight motion of my hand,
And feeble scratching of the sand,
The exerted throat's faint struggling noise,
Which scarcely could be call'd a voice,
Together scared him off at length.-
I know no more-my latest dream
Is something of a lovely star
Which fix'd my dull eyes from afar,
And went and came with wandering beam,
And of the cold, dull, swimming, dense
Sensation of recurring sense,

And then subsiding back to death,
And then again a little breath,
A little thrill, a short suspense,

An icy sickness curdling o'er

My heart, and sparks that cross'd my brain —
A gasp, a throb, a start of pain,
A sigh, and nothing more.

"I woke Where was I?-Do I see
A human face look down on me?

| And doth a roof above me close?
Do these limbs on a couch repose?
Is this a chamber where I lie?
And is it mortal yon bright eye,
That watches me with gentle glance?
I closed my own again once more,
As doubtful that the former trance
Could not as yet be o'er.

A slender girl, long-hair'd, and tall,
Sate watching by the cottage-wall;
The sparkle of her eye I caught,
Even with my first return of thought;

For ever and anon she threw
A prying, pitying glance on me
With her black eyes so wild and free:
I gazed, and gazed, until I knew
No vision it could be,-

But that I lived, and was released
From adding to the vulture's feast:
And when the Cossack-maid beheld
My heavy eyes at length unseal'd,
She smiled and I essay'd to speak,
But fail'd-and she approach'd, and made
With lip and finger signs that said,
I must not strive as yet to break
The silence, till my strength should be
Enough to leave my accents free;
And then her hand on mine she laid,
And smooth'd the pillow for my head,
And stole along on tiptoe tread,
And gently oped the door, and spake
In whispers-ne'er was voice so sweet!
Even music follow'd her light feet! —
But those she call'd were not awake,
And she went forth; but, ere she pass'd,
Another look on me she cast,
Another sign she made, to say,
That I had nought to fear, that all
Were near, at my command or call,
And she would not delay

Her due return; while she was gone
Methought I felt too much alone.

"She came with mother and with sire— What need of more?--I will not tire With long recital of the rest,

Since I became the Cossack's guest:
They found me senseless on the plain--
They bore me to the nearest hut-
They brought me into life again-
Me-one day o'er their realm to reign!
Thus the vain fool who strove to glut
His rage, refining on my pain,
Sent me forth to the wilderness,
Bound, naked, bleeding, and alone,
To pass the desert to a throne.-
What mortal his own doom may guess?-
Let none despond, let none despair!
To-morrow the Borysthenes
May see our coursers graze at case
Upon his Turkish bank,—and never
Had I such welcome for a river
As I shall yield when safely there.
Comrades, good night!”—The Hetman threw
His length beneath the oak-tree-shade,
With leafy couch already made,

A bed nor comfortless nor new
To him who took his rest whene'er
The hour arrived, no matter where:-
His eyes the hastening slumbers steep.
And if ye marvel Charles forgot
To thank his tale, he wonder'd not, -
The king had been an hour asleep.



ROSALIND. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your Nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think that you have swam in a GONDOLA.


Annotation of the Commentators.

That is, been at Venice, which was much visited by the young English gentlemen of those times, and was then what Paris is now the seat of all dissoluteness.

'Tis known, at least is should be, that | The moment night with dusky mantle


All countries of the Catholic persuasion, Some weeks before Shrove-Tuesday comes about,

The people take their fill of recreation, And buy repentance, ere they grow devout, However high their rank, or low their station,

With fiddling, feasting, dancing, drinking, masking, And other things which may be had for asking.


The skies (and the more duskily the better), The time less liked by husbands than by lovers

Begins, and prudery flings aside her fetter;

And gaiety on restless tiptoe hovers, Giggling with all the gallants who beset her;

And there are songs, and quavers, roaring, humming, Guitars, and every other sort of strumming,

And there are dresses splendid, but fantast- | And therefore humbly I would recommend "The curious in fish-sauce," before they


Masks of all times and nations, Turks and

And harlequins and clowns, with feats
Greeks, Romans, Yankee - doodles, and
All kinds of dress, except the ecclesiastical,
All people, as their fancies hit, may choose,
But no one in these parts may quiz the

Therefore take heed, ye Freethinkers! I
charge ye.

You'd better walk about begirt with briars,
Instead of coat and smallclothes, than put on
A single stitch reflecting upon friars,
Although you swore it only was in fun;
They'd haul you o'er the coals, and stir

the fires


The sea, to bid their cook, or wife, or

Walk or ride to the Strand, and buy in
(Or if set out beforehand, these may send
By any means least liable to loss),
Ketchup, Soy, Chili-vinegar, and Hervey,
Or, by the Lord! a Lent will well nigh

starve ye;

That is to say, if your religion's Roman, And you at Rome would do as Romans do, According to the proverb, -although no


If foreign, is obliged to fast; and you,
If protestant, or sickly, or a woman,
Would rather dine in sin on a ragout-
Dine, and be d-d! I don't mean to be

Of Phlegethon with every mother's son,
Nor say one mass to cool the cauldron's But that's the penalty, to say no worse.

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A thing that you would purchase, beg, or| Which smothers women in a bed of feather, But worthier of these much more jolly fellows;


Wer't not impossible, besides a shame: The face recals some face, as 'twere with

When weary of the matrimonial tether
His head for such a wife no mortal bothers,

You once have seen, but ne'er will see But takes at once another, or another's.

pain, again;

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She was a married woman; 'tis convenient, | And could not sleep with ease alone at Because in Christian countries 'tis a rule

night; brittle

To view their little slips with eyes more She deem'd the window-frames and shutters lenient;

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