"You're an ally of mine, and I love you well; Like a galvanized corpse, so pale and wan, And his tongue was loosed, but his words were few, 66 As Satan bade, so the grog-seller did, For a mortal fear had seized him then, "Ho, ho!" says Nick, "'tis a welcome cold Who has been for years in your own employ, That you're rather afraid, and 'tis strange, of me! You can't be spared for a long while here. "There are hearts to break, there are souls to win "This is the work you have done so well, Wherever may roll that fiery flood, It is swollen with tears, it is stained with blood. And the hand that shielded the wife from ill, "Hold on your course, you are filling up No more said the fiend, for clear and high, HOMEWARD. The day dies slowly in the western sky; The goatherd calls his wanderers to their fold. Be still, my soul, thine hour shall also come; ANTONIO ORIBONI.-MARGARET J. PRESTON. In gray Spielburg's dreary fortress buried from the light of day, From the bounteous, liberal sunshine, and the prodigal breeze's play, Where no human sounds could reach him, save the mocking monotones Of the sentinel whose footsteps trod the dismal court-yard stones Lay the young and knightly victim of the Austrian despot's law, Worn with slow, consuming sickness, on his meagre bed of straw. Oft he strove to press his forehead with his pallid hand in vain, For the wrist so thin and pulseless could not lift the burdening chain: Though his lips were parched to frenzy, while the quenchless fever raged, They had halved the stint of water, lest his thirst might be assuaged: And because his morbid hunger loathed the mouldy food they thrust Through the gratings of his dungeon, they had even withheld the crust. Snatched from country, home, and kindred, from his immemorial sky Rich with summer's lavish leafage, they had flung him here to die; Not because through perjured witness they had stained his noble name, Not because their jealous malice could adduce one deed of shame : But he learned to think that freedom was a guerdon cheaply bought By the lives of slaughtered heroes and—he dared to speak the thought! And for this, for this they thrust him where no arm might reach to save, And with youth's hot pulses throbbing, sunk him in a living grave: Strove to stifle in a dungeon, under piled centurial stone, Titan-thoughts whose heaving shoulders might upturn the tyrant's throne; -Motherland! thou heard'st his groaning, and for every tear he poured, Thou hast summoned forth a hero, armed with Freedom's vengeful sword! Through the dragging years he wasted,-for the flesh will still succumb, Though the inexorable spirit hold the lips sublimely dumbAnd he yearned to clasp his brothers,-enter the old trellised door, Fall upon his mother's bosom,-kiss his father's hand once more, Till he murmured, as the vision swam before his feverish eye, "Oh, to hear their pitying voices break in blessings ere I die! "Thou who shrank'st with human shrinking, even as I, and thrice didst pray, If 'twere possible, the anguish from Thy lips might pass away Lift this maddening, torturing pressure, seal this struggling, panting breath, Let Thy mercy cheat man's vengeance,-lead me out to peace through death: Rend aside this fleshy fastness, shiver this soul-cankering strife, Turn the key, Thou Blessed Warder, -break the cruel bolt of life!" In the deep and ghostly midnight, as the lonely captive lay Gasping in the silent darkness, longing for the dusk of day, Burst a flood of light celestial through the rayless prison cell, And an angel hovering o'er him, touched his shackles-and they fell; And the wondering, tranced spirit, every thrall of bondage past, Dropt the shattered chains that held it, and sprang upward,-freed at last. “SOCKERY” SETTING A HEN. MEESTER VERRIS: I see dot mosd efferpoty wrides something for de shicken pabers nowtays, and I tought praps meppe I can do dot, too, so I wride all apout vot dook blace mit me lasht summer; you know-oder uf you dond know, den I dells you-dot Katrina (dot is mine vrow) und me, ve keep some shickens for a long dime ago, und von tay she sait to me, "Sockery" (dot is mein name), "vy dond you put some uf de aigs under dot olt plue hen shickens. I dinks she vants to sate." "Vell," I sait, "meppe, I guess I LLLLL vill." So I bicked oud some uf de best aigs, und dook um oud do de parn fere de olt hen make her nesht in de side of de haymow, poud fife six veet up. Now you see I nefer was ferry pig up and down, but I vas pooty pig all de vay around in de mittle, so I koodn't reach up till I vent und got a parrel do stant on., Vell, I klimet me on de parrel, und ven my hed rise up py de nesht, de olt hen she gif me such a bick dot my nose runs all ofer my face mit plood, und ven Itodge pack dot plasted olt parrel het preak, und I vent town kershlam. Py cholly, I didn't tink I kood go insite a parrel pefore, but dere I vas, und I fit so dite dot I koodn't git me oud efferway-my fest vas bushed vay up unter my armholes. Ven I fount I vos dite shtuck, I holler "Katrina ! Katrina!" Und ven she koom and see me shtuck in de parrel up to my arm-holes, mit my face all plood und aigs, by cholly, she chust lait town on de hay und laft, und laft till I got so mat I sait, "Vot you lay dere und laf like a olt vool, eh? Vy dond you koom bull me oud?" Und she set up und sait, "Oh, vipe off your chin, und bull your fest down;" den she lait back und laft like she vood shplit herself more as ever. Mat as I vas I tought to myself, Katrina, she sbeak English pooty good; but I only sait, mit my greatest dignitude, "Katrina, vill you bull me oud dis parrel?" Und she see dot I look pooty red, so she sait, "Of course I vill, Sockery." Den she lait me und de parrel town on our site, und I dook holt de door sill, und Katrina she bull on de parrel, but de first bull she mate I yellet, " Donner und blitzen, shtop dat, py golly; dere is nails in de parrel!" You see de nails bent town ven I vent in, but ven I koom oud dey schticks in me all de vay rount. Vell, to make a short shtory long, I told Katrina to go und dell naypor Hansman to pring a saw und saw me dis parrel off. Vell, he koom und he like to split himself mit laf, too, but he roll me ofer und saw de parret all de vay around off, und I git up mit half a parrel around my vaist. Den Katrina she say, "Sockery, vait a leetle till I get a battern of dot new oferskirt you haf on." But I didn't sait a vort, I shust got a nife oud und vittle de hoops off und shling dot confounted olt parrel in de voot pile. |