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Speak on." "A fiend has got into my house,"
My bed :-I have two daughters and a wife,
And the wild villain comes and makes me mad with life."
"Is he there now?" said Mahmoud :-"No ;-he left The house when I did, of my wits bereft;
And laugh'd me down the street, because I vowed
I'd bring the prince himself to lay him in his shroud. I'm mad with want-I'm mad with misery,
And oh thou Sultan Mahmoud, God cries out for thee!"
The Sultan comforted the man, and said,
"Go home, and I will send thee wine and bread,”
(For he was poor)" and other comforts. Go;
And, should the wretch return, let Sultan Mahmoud
In three days' time, with haggard eyes and beard, And shaken voice, the suitor re-appeared,
And said "He's come."-Mahmoud said not a word, But rose and took four slaves, each with a sword,
And went with the vexed man. They reach the place,
And hear a voice, and see a female face,
That to the window fluttered in affright :
"Go in," said Mahmoud, "and put out the light;
The man went in. There was a cry, and hark !
And chop the shrieking wretch, and drink his bloody life.
"Now light the light," the Sultan cried aloud. 'Twas done; he took it in his hand, and bowed
Over the corpse, and looked upon the face;
In reverend silence the spectators wait, Then bring him at his call both wine and meat; And when he had refreshed his noble heart, He bade his host be blest, and rose up to depart.
The man amazed, all mildness now, and tears, Feil at the Sultan's feet, with many prayers, And begged him to vouchsafe to tell his slave, The reason first of that command he gave About the light; then, when he saw the face, Why he knelt down; and lastly, how it was, That fare so poor as his detained him in the place.
The Sultan said, with much humanity,
"Since first I saw thee come, and heard thy cry,
I could not rid me of a dread, that one
By whom such daring villainies were done,
Must be some lord of mine, perhaps a lawless son.
I knelt and thanked the sovereign arbiter,
The first time since thou cam'st, and marr'dst my
WRITTEN ON A SUDDEN ARRIVAL OF FINE WEATHER IN MAY.
READER! what soul that loves a verse, can see
This, more than ever, leaps into the veins, When spring has been delay'd by winds and rains, And coming with a burst, comes like a show, Blue all above, and basking green below,
And all the people culling the sweet prime : Then issues forth the bee, to clutch the thyme,
And the bee poet rushes into rhyme.