« PreviousContinue »
Bring me the captive now !
And I could paint the bow
Ha ! bind him on his back!
Now.-bend him to the rack !
So let him writhe! How long
Ha ! gray-haired, and so strong !
Pity thee! so I do!
I'd rack thee, though I knew
Ah! there's a deathless name !
And though its crown of flame
"Ay! though ít bid me rifle My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst
Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first
Though it should bid me stifle
"All-I would do it all-
Oh heavens—but I appall
“ Vain-vain-give o'er. His eye
Gods! if he do not die,
Shivering! Hark! he mutters
Look! how his temple flutters !
How like a mountain devil in the heart
J. T. TROWBRIDGE.
We are two travellers, Ruger and I.
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 bed on the floor, a bit of rosin,
The paw he holds up there's been frozen),
(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 moralAren'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
(Here's to you, sir !) even of my dog. But he sticks by, through thick and thin ;
And this old coat, with its emply pockets, And rags that smell of tobacco and gin,
He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets.
There isn't another creature living
Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, Su fond, so faithful, and so forgiving,
To such a niiserable thankless master! No, sir !-
- 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
When he stands up to hear his sentence.
To honor a jolly new acquaintance.
The night's before us, fill the glasses !
Some brandy,-thank you,—there !-it passes !
Why not reform ? Ti t's easily said;
But I've gone throngh 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,
A dear girl's love, but I took to drink ;
The same old story; you know how it ends. If you could have seen these classic features.
You needn't laugh, sir ; they were not then Such a burning libel on God's creatures :
I was one of your handsome men !
If you had seen her, so fair and young,
Whose head was happy on this breast ! If you could have heard the songs I sung
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 :
'Twas better for her that we should part, Better the suberest, prosiest life
Than a blasted home and a broken heart.
On the dusty road, a carriage stopped :
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 ! What do you care for a beggar's story?
Is it amusing ? you find it strange ? I had a mother so proud of me !
'Twas well she died before. Do you know If the happy spirits in heaven can see
The ruin and wretchedness here below ?
Another glass, and strong, to deaden
This pain; then Roger and I will start.
Aching thing, in place of a heart ?
No doubt, remembering things that were,