frowns austere too truly tell,
Mild pity, heaven-descended guest,
Hath never, never deign'd to dwell.

"That rude, uncivil touch forego,"
Stern despot of a fleeting hour!
Nor "make the angels weep" to know
The fond "fantastic tricks" of power!

Know'st thou not "mercy is not strain'd,
But droppeth as the gentle dew,"
And while it blesseth him who gain'd,
It blesseth him who gave it, too?

Say, what art thou? and what is he,
Pale victim of despair and pain,
Whose streaming eyes and bended knee
Sue to thee thus--and sue in vain?

Cold callous man!--he scorns to yield,
Or aught relax his felon gripe,
But answers, "I'm Inspector Field
And this here warment's prigg'd your wipe."

_Richard Harris Barham._

RURAL RAPTURES

'Tis sweet at dewy eve to rove
When softly sighs the western breeze,
And wandering 'mid the starlit grove
To take a pinch of snuff and sneeze.

'Tis sweet to see in daisied field
The flocks and herds their pleasure take;
But sweeter are the joys they yield
In tender chop and juicy steak.

'Tis sweet to hear the murmurous sound
That from the vocal woods doth rise,
To mark the pigeons wheeling round,
And think how nice they'd be in pies.

When nightingales pour from their throats
Their gushing melody, 'tis sweet;
Yet sweeter 'tis to catch the notes
That issue from Threadneedle Street.

_Unknown._

A FRAGMENT

His eye was stern and wild--his cheek was pale and cold as clay;
Upon his tightened lip a smile of fearful meaning lay.
He mused awhile--but not in doubt--no trace of doubt was there;
It was the steady solemn pause of resolute despair.
Once more he looked upon the scroll--once more its words he read--
Then calmly, with unflinching hand, its folds before him spread.
I saw him bare his throat, and seize the blue-cold gleaming steel,
And grimly try the tempered edge he was so soon to feel!
A sickness crept upon my heart, and dizzy swam my headI
could not stir--I could not cry--I felt benumbed and dead;
Black icy horrors struck me dumb, and froze my senses o'er;
I closed my eyes in utter fear, and strove to think no more.

Again I looked: a fearful change across his face had passed--
He seemed to rave--on cheek and lip a flaky foam was cast;
He raised on high the glittering blade--then first I found a tongue--
"Hold, madman! stay thy frantic deed!