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Plying Lee needle & Thranda

Star, otetik, outch
In pronts, hunge, a dirt,
And still with a voice iz dócosous jetch,
pould has to tone could zeach the Rich.

She say this king of the sheit!

POEMS OF TRAGEDY.

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

(James Graham, Marquis of Montrose, was executed in Edinburgh, May 21, 1650, for an attempt to overthrow the Common. wealth, and restore Charles II.)

But he looked upon the heavens,

And they were clear and blue, And in the liquid ether

The eye of God shone through : Yet a black and murky battlement

Lay resting on the hill, As though the thunder slept within,

All else was calm and still.

The grim Geneva ministers

With anxious scowl drew near, As you have seen the ravens flock

Around the dying deer. He would not deign them word nor sign,

But alone he bent the knee ;
And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace

Beneath the gallows-tree.
Then, radiant and serene, he rose,

And cast his cloak away ;
For he had ta'en his latest look

Of earth and sun and day.

The morning dawned full darkly,

The rain came flashing down,
And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt

Lit up the gloomy town.
The thunder crashed across the heaven,

The fatal hour was come;
Yet aye broke in, with muffled beat,

The 'larum of the drum.
There was madness on the earth below

And anger in the sky,
And young and old, and rich and poor,

Came forth to see him die.
Ah God! that ghastly gibbet!

How dismal 't is to see
The great tall spectral skeleton,

The ladder and the tree !
Hark! hark ! it is the clash of arms, -

The bells begin to toll, —
“He is coming! he is coming!

God's mercy on his soul !" One last long peal of thunder,

The clouds are cleared away, And the glorious sun once more looks down

Amidst the dazzling day. “ He is coming ! he is coming!”

Like a bridegroom from his room Came the hero from his prison

To the scaffold and the doom. There was glory on his forehead,

There was luster in his eye, And he never walked to battle

More proudly than to die. There was color in his visage,

Though the cheeks of all were wan; And they marveled as they saw him pass,

That great and goodly man! He mounted up the scaffold,

And he turned him to the crowd ; But they dared not trust the people,

So he might not speak aloud.

A beam of light fell o'er him,

Like a glory round the shriven,
And he climbed the lofty ladder

As it were the path to heaven.
Then came a flash from out the cloud,

And a stunning thunder-roll ;
And no man dared to look aloft, —

Fear was on every soul.
There was another heavy sound,

A hush, and then a groan ;
And darkness swept across the sky, —
The work of death was done!

WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN.

GOD'S JUDGMENT ON A WICKED BISHOP.

(Hatto, Archbishop of Mentz, in the year 914, barbarously murdered a number of poor people to prevent their consuming a portion of the food during that year of famine. He was afterwards devoured by rats in his tower on an island in the Rhine. - Old Legend.)

The summer and autumn had been so wet,
That in winter the corn was growing yet :
'T was a piteous sight to see all around
The grain lie rotting on the ground.

Every day the starving poor

| He laid him down and closed his eyes, Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door ;

But soon a scream made him arise ; For he had a plentiful last year's store,

He started, and saw two eyes of flame And all the neighborhood could tell

On his pillow, from whence the screaming came. His granaries were furnished well.

He listened and looked, – it was only the cat; At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day

But the bishop he grew more fearful for that, To quiet the poor without delay ;

For she sate screaming, mad with fear He bade them to his great barn repair,

At the army of rats that were drawing near. And they should have food for the winter there.

For they have swum over the river so deep,

And they have climbed the shores so steep, Rejoiced the tidings good to hear,

And now by thousands up they crawl
The poor folks flocked from far and near; To the holes and the windows in the wall.
The great barn was full as it could hold
Of women and children, and young and old. Down on his knees the bishop fell,

And faster and faster his beads did he tell,

As louder and louder, drawing near,
Then, when he saw it could hold no more,
Bishop Hatto he made fast the door ;

The saw of their teeth without he could hear. And whilst for mercy on Christ they call,

And in at the windows, and in at the door, He set fire to the barn, and burnt them all.

And through the walls, by thousands they pour ;

And down from the ceiling and up through the “I' faith 't is an excellent bonfire !" quoth he;

floor, “And the country is greatly obliged to me From the right and the left, from behind and For ridding it, in these times forlorn,

before, Of rats that only consume the corn."

From within and without, from above and be

low, So then to his palace returned he,

And all at once to the bishop they go.
And he sate down to supper merrily,
And he slept that night like an innocent man;

| They have whetted their teeth against the stones, But Bishop Hatto never slept again.

And now they pick the bishop's bones;
They gnawed the flesh from every limb,

For they were sent to do judgment on hiin! In the morning, as he entered the hall,

ROBERT SOUTHEY. Where his picture hung against the wall, A sweat like death all over him came, For the rats had eaten it out of the frame.

THE SACK OF BALTIMORE. As he looked, there came a man from his farm, —

(Baltimore is a small seaport in the barony of Carbery, in South He had a countenance white with alarm :

Munster. It grew up around a castle of O'Driscoll's, and was, after “My lord, I opened your granaries this morn, his ruin, colonized by the English. On the oth of June, 1631, the

crews of two Algerine galleys landed in the dead of the night, And the rats had eaten all your corn."

sacked the town, and bore off into slavery all who were not too old, or too young, or too fierce, for their purpose. The pirates were

steered up the intricate channel by one Hackett, a Dungarvan fishAnother came running presently,

erman, whom they had taken at sea for the purpose. Two years And he was pale as pale could be.

after, he was convicted of the crime and executed. Baltimore

never recovered from this. ) “Fly! my lord bishop, fly!" quoth he, “ Ten thousand rats are coming this way, - Tue summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's The Lord forgive you for yesterday !"

hundred isles,

The summer sun is gleaming still through “I'll go to my tower in the Rhine,” replied he ; Gabriel's rough defiles, — “'T is the safest place in Germany, —

Old Inisherkin's crumbled fane looks like a The walls are high, and the shores are steep,

molting bird ; And the tide is strong, and the water deep." | And in a calm and sleepy swell the ocean tide is

heard : Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away;

The hookers lie upon the beach ; the children And he crossed the Rhine without delay,

cease their play ; And reached his tower, and barred with care The gossips leave the little inn ; the households All the windows, doors, and loop-holes there. I kneel to pray ;

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