To rave and rattle at the gate,

And shower upon the gatherer's pate
Damns by the dozens, and such speeches
As well betokens one 's slang riches:
To take of Deady's bright stark naked
A glass or so-'tis LIFE to take it!

To see the Hurst with tents encampt on;
Lurk around Lawrence's at Hampton;
Join the flash crowd (the horse being led
Into the yard, and clean'd and fed);
Talk to Dav' Hudson, and Cy' Davis
(The last a fighting rara avis),
And, half in secret, scheme a plan
For trying the hardy Gas-light-Man.
'Tis LIFE to cross the laden ferry,
With boon companions, wild and merry,
And see the ring upon the Hurst
With carts encircled-hear the burst
At distance of the eager crowd.
Oh, it is LIFE! to see a proud
And dauntless man step, full of hopes,
Up to the P. C. stakes and ropes,
Throw in his hat, and with a spring,
Get gallantly within the ring;

Eye the wide crowd, and walk awhile,
Taking all cheerings with a smile:
To see him skip-his well-trained form,
White, glowing, muscular, and warm,
All beautiful in conscious power,
Relaxed and quiet, till the hour;
His glossy and transparent frame,
In radiant plight to strive for fame!
To look upon the clean shap'd limb
In silk and flannel clothed trim;
While round the waist the 'kerchief tied,
Makes the flesh glow in richer pride.
'Tis more than LIFE, to watch him hold
His hand forth, tremulous yet bold,
Over his second's, and to clasp

His rival's in a quiet grasp;

To watch the noble attitude

He takes the crowd in breathless mood:

And then to see, with adamant start,
The muscles set, and the great heart
Hurl a courageous splendid light
Into the eye-and then-the FIGHT!

FRAGMENTS.

[BY A FREE-LOVER.]

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, 1823.

THEY were not married by a muttering priest,
With superstitious rites, and senseless words,
Out-snuffled from an old worm-eaten book,
In a dark corner (railed off like a sheep-pen)
Of an old house, that fools do call a Church!
Their altar was the flowery lap of earth--
The starry empyrean their vast temple-
Their book each other's eyes-and Love himself,
Parson, and Clerk, and Father to the bride!
Holy espousals! whereat wept with joy
The spirit of the universe.-In sooth
There was a sort of drizzling rain that day,
For I remember (having left at home
My parapluie, a name than umbrella
Far more expressive) that I stood for shelter
Under an entry not twelve paces off

(It might be ten) from Sheriff Waithman's shop,
For half an hour or more, and there I mused
(Mine eyes upon the running kennel fixed,
That hurried as a het'rogenous mass
To the common sewer, it's dark reservoir),
I mused upon the running stream of life!

But that's not much to the purpose--I was telling

Of these most pure espousals.-Innocent pair!

Ye were not shackled by the vulgar chains
About the yielding mind of credulous youth,
Wound by the nurse and priest—your energies,
Your unsophisticated impulses,

Taught ye to soar above their "settled rules
Of Vice and Virtue." Fairest creature! He

Whom the world called thy husband, was in truth
Unworthy of thee.-A dull plodding wretch!
With whose ignoble nature thy free spirit

Held no communion.-'T was well done, fair creature!
T'assert the independence of a mind

Created-generated I would say—

Free as

"that chartered libertine, the air.” Joy to thy chosen partner! blest exchange! Work of mysterious sympathy! that drew Your kindred souls by

*

*

*

There fled the noblest spirit!—The most pure,
Most sublimated essence that ere dwelt

In earthly tabernacle. Gone thou art,
Exhaled, dissolved, diffused, commingled now
Into and with the all-absorbing frame
Of Nature, the great mother. Ev'n in life,
While still, pent-up in flesh, and skin, and bones,
My thoughts and feelings like electric flame
Shot through the solid mass, toward the source,
And blended with the general elements,
When thy young star o'er life's horizon hung
Far from it's zenith yet low lagging clouds

(Vapors of earth) obscured its heaven-born rays—
Dull joys of prejudice and superstition

And vulgar decencies begirt thee round;

And thou didst wear awhile th' unholy bonds
Of "holy matrimony!" and didst vail

Awhile thy lofty spirit to the cheat.-
But reason came-and firm philosophy,

And mild philanthropy, and pointed out
The shame it was the crying, crushing shame,
To curb within a little paltry pale

The love that over all created things

Should be diffusive as the atmosphere.

Then did thy boundless tenderness expand

Over all space-all animated things

And things inanimate. Thou hadst a heart,
A ready tear for all.-The dying whale,
Stranded and gasping-ripped up for his blubber
By Man the Tyrant.-The small sucking pig

Slain for his riot.-The down-trampled flower
Crushed by his cruel foot.-All, each, and all
Shared in thy boundless sympathies, and then—
(Sublime perfection of perfected love)

Then didst thou spurn the whimp'ring wailing thing
That dared to call thee "husband,” and to claim,
As her just right, support and love from thee-
Then didst thou

THERE's somewhat on my breast father,

There's somewhat on my breast!

The live-long day I sigh, father,

At night I can not rest ;

I can not take my rest, father,
Though I would fain do so,
A weary weight oppresseth me-
The weary weight of woe!

'Tis not the lack of gold, father
Nor lack of worldly gear;
My lands are broad and fair to see,
My friends are kind and dear;
My kin are leal and true, father,
They mourn to see my grief,
But oh! 'tis not a kinsman's hand
Can give my heart relief!

'Tis not that Janet's false, father,
"Tis not that she's unkind;
Though busy flatterers swarm around,
I know her constant mind.

'Tis not her coldness, father,

That chills my laboring breast

Its that confounded cucumber

I've ate, and can't digest.

THE MILLING-MATCH BETWEEN ENTELLUS AND

D'ARES.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FIFTH BOOK OF THE ÆNEID, BY ONE OF THE FANCY.

THOMAS MOORE.

WITH daddles high upraised, and nob held back,
In awful prescience of the impending thwack,
Both Kiddiest stood-and with prelusive spar,
And light manoeuv'ring, kindled up the war!
The One, in bloom of youth-a light-weight blade— -
The Other, vast, gigantic, as if made,
Express, by Nature for the hammering trade;
But aged, slow, with stiff limbs, tottering much,
And lungs, that lack'd the bellows-mender's touch.

Yet, sprightly to the Scratch both Buffers came,
While ribbers rung from each resounding frame,
And divers digs, and many a ponderous pelt,
Were on their broad bread-baskets heard and felt.
With roving aim, but aim that rarely miss'd,
Round lugs and ogles ‡ flew the frequent fist;
While showers of facers told so deadly well,
That the crush'd jaw-bones crackled as they fell!
But firmly stood ENTELLUS-and still bright,
Though bent by age, with all THE FANCY's light,
Stopp'd with a skill, and rallied with a fire
The Immortal FANCY could alone inspire!
While DARES, shifting round, with looks of thought,
An opening to the Cove's huge carcase sought
(Like General PRESTON, in that awful hour,
When on one leg he hopp'd to-take the Tower!)
And here, and there, explored with active fin §
And skillful feint, some guardless pass to win,
And prove a boring guest when once let in.
And now ENTELLUS, with an eye that plann'd
Punishing deeds, high raised his heavy hand,
But, ere the sledge came down, young DARES spied
His shadow o'er his brow, and slipp'd aside-

* Hands.
Ears and Eyes.

† Fellows, usually young fellows.
§ Arm.