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And vandals plying their infernal craft; Or reverent toilers shuddering as they plunge Their picks and spades into protesting graves, In mute obedience to enactments framed By legislators whose inhuman souls, Fit only for annihilation, ought To render meek apology to earth For their existence here, and quick descend Into oblivion in nameless graves, And be forgot of God and all mankind. Avarice, with sacrilegious fingers, gleans The whitened bones of human skeletons From out the depths of hoary sepulchers, And barters them as merchandise for gold. The ghastly resurrectionist, betimes, Pilfers the jewel from the new-made grave, And in the darkness of the midnight hour Drags it with guilty haste to secret haunts Where science waits to flay with whetted blade The form scarce emptied of its quivering soul. Oft the rude plowshare, guided in its course By ruthless and irreverent hands, transforms The consecrated soil ’neath which repose The sacred ashes of the sainted dead, Into a common acreage for crops. Then who would not elect to have his dust “Rocked in the cradle of the deep” for aye? For they who slumber on old ocean's bed Repose in undisturbed security. The sea protects the precious dust which God Entrusts to its eternal guardianship, 'Gainst every form of desecrative art. The ocean's dead sleep not 'neath monuments Whose height, and breadth, and grand dimensions alla Bear inverse ratio to departed worthAs if erected with intent to mock, With solemn irony of greatness, forms Which ne'er contained aught save inferior souls. Who slumber on the bosom of the deep Escape the woes of epitaphic art. They rest in peace. No graven marble slab Commemorates in execrable verse, Framed by the poetasters weeping pen, Virtues discovered only in the grave,-
Deeds whose ascription to the modest dead
With proud contempt for human greatness, yields
To Biddy McSnilligan,
Cries Biddy McSnilligan,
“Ye'd betther be still agin, Oi'll not be endoorin' sich tratement as this."
“Arrah! Dearest Biddy,
Be aisy, be stiddy,
Och! Scratch a man's nose off,
An' tear all his clo'es off,
“Go way, Mr. Barney,
No more of your blarney,
Ould red-headed Barney,
Yer wastin' yer blarney, Fur here comes the missis! Ach! Barney, be quick!"
THE DUEL SCENE FROM "THE RIVALS."
R. B. SILERIDAN. Bob Acres is deroted to Miss Lydia Langnish, and resents the attentions be. ituwid upuu hier by ue Beverley. Acting upon the advice of Sır Lucine U Prigker, he culisents w send a challenge, and obtains the promise of Captain Ateslute tw be the beler ut the daughty curtel. “ Bub" is a great coward, but loe captain agrees turprent him as a terrible fellow of such bellicose renown that be goes by the blue ut ** Fighting Bub."
Enter Sir Lucius (? Trigger and Acres, with pistols. ACRES. By my valor! then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. Odlus levels and aims!--I say it is a good distance.
Sir Lucil's. Is it for muskets or smali lielil-pieces? Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to me. Stay now --!'ll show you. (Meusures paces along the xiage.) There now, that is a very pretty distance, –a pretty gentleinan's distance.
ACRES. Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther be is off, the cooler I shall take my aiin.
Sir L. Faith! then I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight.
ARFS. No, Sir Lucius; but I should think forty or eightand-thirty yards
Sir L. Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile.
ACRES Odds bullets, no!-by my valor! there is no merit in killing him so near. Do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot,-a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love nie!
Sir L. Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that. But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or commission I could execute for you?
ACRES. I am much obliged to you Sir Lucius, but I don't understand
Sur L. Why, you may think there's no being shot at without a little risk-and if an unlucky bullet should carry a quietus with it - I say it will be no time then to be bothering you about family matters.
ACRES A quietus!
Sir L. For instance, now—if that should be the casewould you choose to be pickled and sent home?-or would it be the same to you to lie here in the Abbey ? I'm told there is very snug lying in the Abbey.
ACRES. Pickled! Snug lying in the Abbey! Odds tremors! Sir Lucius, don't talk so!
Sir L. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before?
ACRES. No, Sir Lucius, never before.
Sir L. Ah! that's a pity-there's nothing like being used to a thing. Pray now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot?
ACRES. O lds files! I've practised that--there, Sir Lucius there. (Puts himself in an attitude.) A side-front, hey? Odd! I'll make myself sınall enough ; I'll stand edgeways.
Sır L. Now-you're quite out-for if you stand so when I take my aim
[Leveling at him. ACRES. Zounds! Sir Lucius - are you sure it is not cocked ? Sir L. Never fear.
ACRES. But – but-you don't know-it may go off of its own heal!
Sir L. Pho! be easy. Well, now, if I hit you in the boly, my bullet has a double chance-for if it misses a vital purt of your right side 'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left!
Acris. A vital part !
Sir L. But, there--fix yourself so (placing him)—let him see the broad-side of your full front-there-now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do any harm at all.
AUR :S. Clean through me!-a ball or two clean through me!
SIR L. Ay, may they, and it is much the genteelest attitule into the bargain.
ACRES. Look’ee! Sir Lucius, I'd just as lieve be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one; so, by my valor! I will stand edgeways.
Sir L. (looking at his watch.) Sure they don't mean to disappoint us - hab!-no, faith, I think I see them coming.
AR S. There are two of them indeed !--well-let them come -hey, Sir Lucius!-we-we-we-we-wont run.
SIR L. Rui!
ACRES. Nothing -nothing -my dear friend--my dear Sii Lucius--but I--I--I don't feel quite so bold, somehow, as I did.
SIR L. O fy!--consider your honor.
ACRES. Ay-true-my honor. Do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word or two every now and then about ny
honor. SIR L. Well, here they're coming.
[Looking. ACRES. Sir Lucius-if I wa'n't with you, I should almost think I was afraid. If my valor should leave me! Valor will come and go.
Sir L. Then pray keep it fast, while you have it.
ACRES. Sir Luciu3 -1 doubt it is going-yes-my valor is certainly going!--it is sneaking off!--I feel it oozing out as it were at the palms of my hands!
Sie L. Your honor-your honor. Here they are.
ACRES. Oh, mercy!--now--that I was safe at Clod-Hall!--or could be shot before I was aware!
THE SEER AND THE DREAMERS. - ELLEN MURRAY.
Wrillen expressly for this Collection.
When evil spirits ride,
When sounds are mysterySeer.- Speak out! Speak free! What was the dream? Sayon! first dreamer. - I dreamed I saw a tree,
And blessed the passer-by.
Sinall as a small, white thread,