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Esperaba, desperaba.

Squirrel, mount yon oak so high,
To its twig that next the sky

Bends and trembles as a flower.
Strain, oh stork, thy pinion well,
From thy nest ’neath old church bell,
Mount to yon tall citadel,

And its tallest donjon tower !

To yon mountain, eagle old,
Mount, whose brow so white and cold

Kisses the last ray of even.
And, oh thou that lov'st to mark
Morn's first sunbeam pierce the dark,
Mount, oh, mount, thou joyous lark,

Joyous lark, oh, mount to heaven!

And now say, from topmost bough,
Towering shaft and peak of snow,

And heaven's arch-oh, can ye see
One white plume that like a star
Streams along the plain afar,
And a

that from the war
Bears my lover back to me?



* Alerte ! alerte ! voici les pirates d'Ochali qui traversent le détroit!"-Le Captif d'Ochali.

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My pretty maid-hush, not a word!

The wind is fair—to sea it calls ;

'Tis but a change of convent walls-
The harem's much to be preferred.
A good Mahometan you'll be,

And just the thing to please the Dey;

All in a galley brave and gay,
Just three times thirty oars were we.
Away for flight she strives to break-

Dare you? she cried, dark child of hell!

I dare-our captain answered well;
Vain were entreaty, tear and shriek.
Despite them all, right merrily,

We bore her in our arms away;

All in a galley brave and gay,
Just three times thirty oars were we.

By all her grief but lovelier made,
Two diamond talismans her eyes,

A thousand tomans for our prize
Right willingly his Highness paid.
In vain she sighed, Ah, wo is me!

The nun became a queen that day;

All in a galley brave and gay,
Just three times thirty oars were we.



" Fire, fire, blood and ruin."-CORTE REAL. Le Siege de Diu. Thy will, oh King, is done! Lightning but to consume,

The roar of the fierce flames drowned ev'n the shouts and shrieks ; Redd'ning each roof like some day-dawn of bloody doom,

Seem'd they in joyous flight to dance above their wrecks.

Slaughter his thousand giant arms hath tossed on high,

Fell fathers, husbands, wives, beneath his streaming steel; Prostrate the palaces huge tombs of fire lie,

While gathering overhead the vultures scream and wheel.

Died the pale mothers !-and the virgins from their arms,

Oh Caliph! fiercely torn bewailed their young years' blight ; With stabs and kisses fouled, all their yet quivering charms

At our fleet coursers' heels were dragged in mocking flight.

Lo! where the city lies mantled in pall of death!

Lo! where thy mighty arm hath passed, all things must bend! As the priests prayed the sword stopped their accurséd breath,

Vainly their sacred book for shield did they extend.

Some infants yet survived, and the unsated steel

Still drinks the life-blood of each whelp of Christian hound; To kiss thy sandal's foot, oh King! thy people kneel,

With golden circlet to thy glorious ankle bound.




Tamar.-But are they round us, Hadad ? Not confined
In penal chains and darkness ?

So he said,
And so your sacred books infer. What saith
Your prophet ?—What the prince of Uz?

I shudder
Lest some dark minister be near us now!"-HADAD.

In conversing with a friend recently, in New England. Formerly every vilwho is a most decided unbeliever in lage could boast of one or more of the supernatural, he mentioned a fact these favored tenements. I have ne. of his own experience. Awaking one vertheless, seen several of a most unnight from sleep, he saw distinctly, be- christian reputation in this respect, fore him, looking through the thick old, black, and unseemly, with shingles wall of darkmess, an eye, intensely and clap-boards hanging loose, and bright-large, luminous, and with an ragged, like the cloak of Otway's expression of terrible malignity. He witch. A new coat of paint, in almost rose up in his bed, and, being a man of all cases, proves an effectual exorcism. firm nerves, looked calmly at the sin- A former neighbor of mine,-a simple, gular apparition. It seemed slowly to honest mechanic,-used to amuse us by approach him, until it rested just at the his reiterated complaints of the diabofoot of his bed, where its demon glare lical revels of certain evil spirits, which gradually faded into the darkness. had chosen his garret for their ballHad my friend lived two centuries ago, room. All night long he could hear a instead of regarding it as an optical il- dance going on above

him, regulated by lusion, he would have called in the some infernal melody. He had no priest to dislodge an evil spirit. doubt whatever of the supernatural

Old women in this region yet tell character of the annoyance, and treatmarvellous stories of Gen. M., of ed with contempt the suggestion of his Hampton, N. H., of his league with neighbors, that, after all it might be the Devil, who used to visit him occa- nothing more than the rats among his sionally in the shape of a small man in corn. a leathern dress. The General's house Whoever has seen Great Pond in the was once burned, in revenge, as it is East parish of Haverhill, has seen one said, by the Fiend, whom the other had of the very loveliest of the thousand outwitted. He had agreed, it seems, little lakes or ponds of New England. to furnish the General with a boot-full With its soft slopes of greenest verdure of gold and silver poured annually —its white and sparkling sand-rimdown the chimney. The shrewd its southern hem of pine and maple, Yankee cut off, on one occasion, the mirrored, with spray and leaf, in the foot of the boot, and the Devil kept glassy water—its graceful hill-sentipouring down the coin from the chim- nels round about, white with the orney's top, in a vain attempt to fill it, chard-bloom of spring, or tasselled until the room was literally packed with the corn of autumn-its long with the precious metal. When the sweep of blue waters, broken here General died, he was laid out, and put and there by picturesque islandsmit in a coffin as usual, but on the day of would seem a spot, of all others, the funeral, on opening the lid, his body where spirits of evil would shrink, rewas not to be seen, and the neighbors buked and abashed, from the presence came to the charitable conclusion that of the Beautiful. Yet here, too, has the Enemy had got his own at last. the shadow of the supernatural fallen. Haunted houses are getting scarce A lady of my acquaintance, a staid,

unimaginative church-member, states ness, and the many-colored verdure of that a few years ago she was standing its autumn, all glowing as if the rainin the angle formed by two roads, one bows of a summer shower had fallen of which

traverses the pond shore, the upon it, under the clear, rich light of a other leading over the hill which rises sun, to which the misty day of their cold abruptly from the water. It was a island was as moonlight,-they saw no warm summer evening, just at sunset. beauty, they recognized no holy revelaShe was startled by the appearance of tion. It was to them terrible as the a horse and cart of the kind used a forest which Dante traversed, on his century ago in New England, driving way to the World of Pain. Every rapidly down the steep hill-side, and advance step they made was upon the crossing the wall a few yards before Enemy's territory. And one has only her, without noise, or the displacing of to read the writings of the two Maa stone. The driver sat sternly erect thers, to perceive that that Enemy was -with a fierce countenance ; grasping to them no metaphysical abstraction, no the reins tightly, and looking neither to scholastic definition, no figment of a poetthe right nor the left. Behind the ical fancy, but a living, active Reality, cart, and apparently lashed to it, was a alternating between the sublimest possiwoman of gigantic size, her counten- bilities of evil, and the lowest tricks of ance convulsed with a blended expres- mean mischief; now a “tricksey spision of rage and agony, writhing and rit,” disturbing the good wife's platters or struggling, like Laocoon in the folds of soiling her new-washed linen, and anon the serpent. Her head, neck, feet and riding the storm-cloud, and pointing its arms were naked; wild locks of grey thunder-bolts ; for as the elder Mather hair streamed back from temples cor- pertinently inquires,“ how else is it rugated and darkened. The horrible that our meeting-houses are burned by cavalcade swept by across the street, the lightning?" What was it, for inand disappeared at the margin of the stance, but his subtlety, which, speakpond.

ing through the lips of Madam HutI have heard many similar stories, chinson, confuted the “ Judges of Israbut the foregoing may serve as a sam- el,” and put to their wit's end the godly ple of all. When we consider what ministers of the puritan Zion ? Was the popular belief of New England not his evil finger manifested in the was no longer than a century and a half contumacious heresy of Roger Wilago, it is by no means surprising that liams? Who else gave the Jesuit something of the old superstition still missionaries-locusts from the pit as lingers among us. Our puritan ances- they were--such a hold on the affectors were, in their own view of the tions of those very savages who would matter, a sort of advance guard and not have scrupled to hang the scalp of forlorn hope of Christendom, in its con- pious father Wilson himself from their test with the Bad Angel. The new girdles? To the vigilant eye of Puriworld into which they had so valiantly tanism was he not alike discernible in pushed the outposts of the Church the light wantonness of the May-pole militant, was to them, not God's world, revellers, beating time with clever foot but the Devil's. They stood there on to the vain music of obscene dances; their little patch of sanctified territory, and in the silent, hat-canopied gatherlike the game-keeper of Der Frieschutz ings of the Quakers, “ the most melanin the charmed circle-within were choly of the sects," as Dr. More calls prayer, and fasting, unmelodious psalm- them? Perilous and glorious was it ody, and solemn hewing of heretics under these circumstances, for such “ before the Lord in Gilgal;” without men as Mather and Stoughton to gird were “dogs and sorcerers,” red child- up their stout loins, and do battle with ren of perdition, Powah wizzards and the unmeasured, all-surrounding Terror. “the foul fiend." In their grand old Let no man lightly estimate their spiwilderness, broken by fair broad rivers, ritual knight-errantry. The heroes of and dotted with loveliest lakes, hanging old romance who went about smiting with festoons of leaf and vine and dragons, lopping giants' heads, and flower, the steep sides of mountains, otherwise pleasantly diverting themwhose naked tops rose over the sur- selves, scarcely deserve mention in rounding verdure like altars of a giant comparison with our New England world-with its early summer green- champions, who, trusting not to carnal

sword and lance, in a contest with We may laugh, for the grotesque is principalities and powers

blended with the horrible, but we must

also pity and shudder. God be thank“Spirits that live throughout, ed that the delusion has measurably "Vital in every part, not as frail man," vanished ; and they who confronted

that delusion in its own age-disenencountered their enemies with wea- chanting with strong, clear sense, and pons forged by the stern spiritual ar- sharp ridicule, their spell-bound genemorer of Geneva. The life of Cotton ration,—the German Wierus, the Italian Mather is as full of romance as the le- D'Apone, the English Scot and the gends of Ariosto, or the tales of Bel- New England Calef,-deserve high tenebros, and Florisando in Amadis de honors as the benefactors of their race. Gaul. All about him was enchanted They were indeed branded through life ground-devils glared on him in his as infidels and a damnable Sadducees," * closet wrestlings,”—portents blazed by a corrupt priesthood, who ministered in the heavens above him,—while he, to a credulity which could be so well commissioned, appointed, and set apart turned to their advantage, but the truth as the watcher and warder, and spiritu- which they uttered lived after them, al champion of "the chosen people," and wrought out its appointed work, for stood ever ready for battle, with open it had a divine commission and Godeye and quick ear for the detection of speed. the subtle approaches of the enemy:

" The oracles are dumb, No wonder is it that the spirits of evil

No voice or hideous hum combined against him—that they beset him as they did of old St. Anthony--that Runs through the arched roof in words

deceiving; they shut up the bowels of the General

Apollo from his shrine Court against his long-cherished hope Can now no more divine, of the Presidency of old Harvard-that With hollow shriek the step of Delphos they even had the audacity to lay hands leaving." on his anti-diabolical manuscripts, or that "ye divil that was in ye girl flewe Dimmer and dimmer, as generaat and tore” his grand sermon against tions pass away, this tremendous Terwitches. How edifying is his account ror-this all-pervading espionage of of the young bewitched maiden, whom Evil—this well-nigh infinite Haunter he kept in his house for the purpose of and Tempter-this active incarnation making experiments which should sa- of motiveless malignity, -presents ittisfy all “ obstinate Sadducees.” How self to the imagination. The once imsatisfactory to orthodoxy, and con- posing and solemn rite of exorcism has founding to heresy is the nice discrimi- become obsolete in the Church. Men nation of “ye divil in ye girl," who are no longer in any quarter of the was choked in attempting to read the world racked, or pressed under planks, Catechism, yet found no trouble with a to extort a confession of diabolical pestilent Quaker pamphlet,-—who was alliance. The heretic now laughs to quiet and good-humored when the wor scorn the solemn farce of the Church, thy Doctor was idle, but went into which in the name of the All-Merciful paroxysms of rage when he sat down formally delivers him over to Satan. to indite his diatribes against witches Oh, for the sake of abused and longand familiar spirits.

cheated humanity, let us rejoice that it All this is pleasant enough now; we is so, when we consider how for long, can laugh at the Doctor and his demons: weary centuries the millions of profesbut little matter of laughter was it to sed Christendom stooped, awe-stricken, the victims on Salem hill—to the pri- under the yoke of spiritual and temposoners in the jails—to poor Giles Corey, ral despotism, grinding on from generatortured with planks upon his breast, tion to generation in a despair which which forced the tongue from his had passed complaining, because Sumouth, and his life from his old palsied perstition, in alliance with Tyranny, body-to bereaved and quaking fami- had filled their upward pathway to lies—to a whole community priest-rid- Freedom with Shapes of Terror-the den and spectre-smitten-gasping in spectres of God's wrath to the utterthe sick dream of a spiritual night. most—the Fiend and his torment, the mare, and given over to believe a lie. smoke of which rises forever. Through

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