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0. Man. No, sir.
Tyke. I'm glad on't-I'm glad on't-Ruin my own father!
0. Man. Ah ! did I hear rightly? Father !-what! Oh ! let me see- - let me see! (TYKE, with a countenance strongly impressed with shame and sorrow, turns round.) Ah! it's my son-my long-lost, dear profligate boy ! Heaven be thanked !-Heaven be thanked !
Tyke. (Groaning, strikes his breast.) Oh ! burst, burst, and ease me! Eh !-but he's alive- father's alive! ha! ha! (Laughs hysterically.)
0. Man. You terrify me! Robert, Robert, hear me. Take my forgiveness—take my blessing !
Tyke. What!—forgive-bless-such a rogue as(Bursts into a flood of tears.)
0. Man. Be composed.
Tyke. Let me cry; it does me good, father-it does me good.
0. Man. Oh! if there be holy water, it surely is the sinner's tears.
Tyke. But he's alive. (Rushes into his arms.)
0. Man. Ay! alive to comfort and pardon thee, my poor prodigal, and Heaven will pardon thee!
Tyke. No, don't say that, father, because it can't.
Tyke. Yes, I know it is. I know it would if it could, but not me! No, no!
0. Man. Kneel down, and ask its mercy.
Tyke. I dare not, father—I dare not! Oh, if I durst but just thank it for thy life!
0. Man. Angels will sing for joy.
-may I, think you? May I-may I ?
clasps his hands with energetic devotion.
TII E LAST MA N.
All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,
The sun himself must die,
Its immortality !
Adown the gulf of Time !
As Adam saw her prime!
The earth with age was wan,
Around that lonely man!
In plague and famine some !
To shores where all was dumb!
Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood,
With dauntless words and high, That shook the sere leaves from the wood
As if a storm pass’d bySaying, We are twins in death, proud sun, Thy face is cold, thy race is run,
'Tis mercy bids thee go; For thou ten thousand thousand years Hast seen the tide of human tears,
That shall no longer flow. What though beneath thee man put forth
His pomp, his pride, his skill;
And arts that made fire, flood, and earth,
The vassals of his will;—
For all those trophied arts
Entail'd on human hearts.
Go, let oblivion's curtain fall
Upon the stage of men,
Life's tragedy again.
Of pain anew to writhe;
Like grass beneath the scythe.
Even I am weary
skies To watch thy fading fire; Test of all sunless agonies,
Behold not me expire. My lips that speak thy dirge of death Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath
To see thou shalt not boast. The eclipse of nature spreads my pall, The majesty of darkness shall
Receive my parting ghost !
This spirit shall return to Him
Who gave its heavenly spark ;
When thou thyself art dark !
By Him recall’d to breath,
Who robb’d the grave of victory, —
And took the sting from death!
holds me up
Of grief that man shall taste-
On earth's sepulchral clod,
Or shake his trust in God!
TO PARENTS AND GUARDIANS.
PAPA was deep in weekly bills,
Her gentle face full
said she, “I do declare He can't go back in such a pair
They're too disgraceful !" “ Confound it !" quoth papa. Perhaps The ban was deeper, but the lapse
Of time has drowned it;
He meant Confound it.
And bubble over;
Of scarlet cloth! Papa cried, " Pish !" Which did not mean he did not wish
He'd been more heedful. “Good luck,” said he, “this cloth will dip, And make a famous pair. Get Snip
To do the needful."
And eft becoming
The prize for summing.
And made me hate 'em !
A red substratum !
Come, stop this racket.”
And spoilt my jacket !
And smack me soundly.
Ye loved me fondly.
As wisdom mellows)
Beside their fellows,