PARBHASIUS, "Bring me the captive now! My hand feels skillful, and the shadows lift Upon the bended heavens-around me play Ha! bind him on his back! Look! as Prometheus in my picture here→→ Press down the poisoned links into his flesh! So-let him writhe! How long Will he live thus ? Quick, my good pencil now! Ha gray-haired, and so strong! How fearfully he stifles that short moan! Pity thee! so I do! I pity the dumb victim at the altar- A thousand lives were perishing in thine- Ah! there's a deathless name!→ A spirit that the smothering vaults shall spurn, Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone- "Ay! though it bid me rifle My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst 119 Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first- The yearnings in my heart for my sweet child, "All-I would do it all Sooner than die, like a dull worm, to rot Oh heavens-but I appall Your heart, old man!-forgive-ha! on your lives "Vain-vain—give o'er. His eye Glazes apace. He does not feel you now- But for one moment-one-till I eclipse "Shivering! Hark! he mutters Brokenly now-that was a difficult breath- Is his heart still? Aha! lift up his head! How like a mountain devil in the heart THE VAGABONDS. 121 THE VAGABONDS. We are two travellers, Roger and I. J. T. TROWBRIDGE. Roger's my dog :-come here, you scamp! Jump for the gentlemen,-mind your eye! Over the table,-look out for the lamp!The rogue is growing a little old; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank-and starved together. We've learned what comfort is, I tell you! A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow ! (This out-door business is bad for the strings), Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings! No, thank ye, sir,-I never drink; Roger and I are exceedingly moral— Aren't we, Roger ?-see him wink!— Well, something hot, then,—we won't quarrel. He's thirsty, too,-see him nod his head? What a pity, sir, that dogs can't taik ! He understands every word that's said, And he knows good milk from water-and-chalk. The truth is, sir, now I reflect, I've been so sadly given to grog, I wonder I've not lost the respect He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. There isn't another creature living Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving, To such a miserable thankless master! No, sir!-s -see him wag his tail and grin! By George! it makes my old eyes water! That is, there's something in this gin That chokes a fellow. But no matter! We'll have some music, if your're willing, And Roger (hem! what a plague a cough is, sir!) Shall march a little. Start, you villain! Stand straight! 'Bout face! Salute your officer ! Put up that paw! Dress! Take your rifle ! (Some dogs have arms, you see!) Now hold your Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle, To aid a poor old patriot soldier ! March Halt! Now show how the rebel shakes Now tell us how many drams it takes To honor a jolly new acquaintance. Five yelps, that's five; he's mighty knowing! Quick, sir! I m ill,-my brain is going! Why not reform? That's easily said; But I've gone through such wretched treatment, Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread, And scarce remembering what meat meant, That my poor stomach's past reform ; And there are times when, mad with thinking, I'd sell out heaven for something warm To prop a horrible inward sinking. Is there a way to forget to think? At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends, THE VAGABONDS. A dear girl's love,-but I took to drink ; The same old story; you know how it ends. If you had seen her, so fair and young, 123 When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed That ever I, sir, should be straying From door to door, with fiddle and dog, Ragged and penniless, and playing To you to-night for a glass of grog! She's married since,a parson's wife : Than a blasted home and a broken heart. But little she dreamed, as on she went, Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped! You've set me talking, sir; I'm sorry; It makes me wild to think of the change! I had a mother so proud of me! 'Twas well she died before-Do you know If the happy spirits in heaven can see Another glass, and strong, to deaden He is sad sometimes, and would weep, if he could, |