THE SLAVE.

Wide o'er the tremulous sea,

The moon spread her mantle of light;
And the gale, gently dying away,
Breathed soft on the bosom of night.
On the forecastle Maratan stood,
And pour'd forth his sorrowful tale;
His tears fell unseen in the flood,

His sighs pass'd unheard in the gale.
"Ah, wretch!" in wild anguish, he cried,
"From country and liberty torn!
"Ah, Maratan, would thou hadst died,

Ere o'er the salt waves thou wert borne.

"Through the groves of Angola I stray'd, "Love and hope made my bosom their home, "Then I talk'd with my favourite maid, "Nor dreamt of the sorrows to come.

"From the thicket the man-hunter sprung, "My cries echoed loud through the air; "There was fury and wrath on his tongue, "He was deaf to the voice of despair.

"Accursed be the merciless band,

"That his love could from Maratan tear; "And blasted this impotent hand,

"That's severed from all I held dear.

"But, hark! o'er the silence of night
"My Adela's accents I hear:
"And mournful, beneath the wan light,
I see her loved image appear.

"Oh, Maratan! haste thee," she ories,
"Here the reign of oppression is o'er
"The tyrant is robb'd of his prize,
"And Adela sorrows no more.

"Now sinking amidst the dim ray,
"Her form seems to fade on my view,
"Oh! stay thee, my Adela, stay!
"She beckons, and I must pursue.

"To morrow the white man, in vain,
"Shall proudly account me his slave;
"My shackles I plunge in the main,

"And rush to the realms of the brave."

FRANK HAYMAN.

Frank Hayman, once a brother of the brush,
Had talents much distinguish'd in his day,
But for his art he hardly cared a rush,

If some odd mischief stumbled in his way.
This wag was deem'd by all the social tribe
A jovial, easy, careless, pleasant fellow,
Fond of a frolic, ready at a jibe,

And sometimes in his cups a little mellow. There is a famous place, yclept Vauxhall,

Where cits, good folks, regale with merry hearts, And oft to busy waiters eager bawl

For fresh supplies of ham, and beef, and tarts.
There may you see of boxes many a row,
For such as like to sup in state design'd,
With pictures deck'd, that make a goodly show;
Now in these pictures Hayman's skill we find.
Frank Hayman, tempted by a pleasant day,
After a long contention with the gout,
A foe that oft besieged him, sallied-out,
To breathe fresh air, and wile an. hour away.
It chanced as he was strolling, void of care,
A drunken porter pass'd him with a hare.
The hare was o'er his shoulder flung,
Dangling behind in piteous plight,
And as he crept, in zig-zag style,
Making the most of every mile,
From side to side poor pussy swung,
As if each moment taking flight.

A dog, who saw the man's condition,
A lean and hungry politician,

On the look-out, was lurking close behind,-
A sly and subtle chap, of most sagacious smell,
Like politicians of a higher kind,

Ready to snap at any thing that fell.

The porter stagger'd on,-the dog kept near,
Watching the lucky minute for a bite,

Now made a spring, and then drew back with fear,
While Hayman follow'd, titt'ring at the sight.

Through many a street the tipsy porter reels,
Then stops as if to solemn thought inclined-
The watchful dog was ready at his heels,
And Hayman hobbled on not far behind.

Then rolling on again, the man survey'd
One of those happy mansions where
A cordial drop imparts its cheering aid
To all the thirsty sons of care.

The sight of this refreshing place,

The scent that hails him from the door, Arrest at once his rambling pace

As they had often done before.

Strait on a bench without he stretch'd along,
Regardless of the passing throng,
And soon his weary eyelids close,
While Somnus soothes him to repose.
The hare now prostrate at his back,
This was the time to get a snack.

The dog, unable longer to refrain,
Gazed at the hare,

Who caused his care,

Jumpt and bit, jumpt and bit, jumpt and bit again.
At length, when he had clear'd away the rest,
The sated spoiler finish'd on the breast.

Then having made a hearty meal,
He careless turn'd upon his heel,
Nor thought of asking "What's to pay ?"
But scamper'd at his ease away.

At length, our porter's slumber o'er,
He jogg'd on, tott'ring, as before,
Unconscious any body kind

Had eased him of his load behind.
Now on the houses turn'd his eye,
As if his journey's end were nigh,

Then read the paper in his hand,
And made a stand-

Hayman drew near, with eager mien,
To mark the closing of the scene,
Expecting strait a furious din,.
His features ready for a grin.

And now we need but mention one thing more,
To show how much he must have liked the whim;
Though drunk, our porter hit at last the door,
And Hayman found the hare was sent to him.

OSMOND'S

66

DREAM.

(FROM THE CASTLE SPECTRE.")

Osmond. Save me! save me! they are at hand! Oh! let them not enter. (Sinks into the arms of Saib and Hassan.)

Saib. How violently he trembles. What can this mean?

Hassan. Speak, my lord! Do you not know us? Osm. Ha! whose voice! Hassan ? and Saib, too, here? Oh! was it then but a dream? Did I not hear those dreadful, those damning words? Still, still they ring in my ears. Hassan Hassan ! death must be bliss, in flames or on the rack, compared to what I have this night suffered.

Has. Compose yourself, my lord. Can a mere dream unman you thus?

Osm. A dream, say'st thou? Hassan, 'twas a dream of such horror! did such dreams haunt my bitterest foe, I should wish him no severer punishment. Mark you not how the ague of fear still makes my limbs tremble? roll not my eyes as if still gazing on the spectre? Are not my lips convulsed, as were they yet pressed by the kiss of corruption? Oh! 'twas a sight that might have bleached Joy's rosy cheek for ever, and strewed the snows of age upon youth's auburn ringlets! Hark, fellows! instruments of my guilt, listen to my punishment! Methought I wandered

d

through the low-browed caverns, where repose the reliques of my ancestors! Suddenly a female form glided along the vault; it was Angela! She smiled upon me, and beckoned me to advance. I flew towards her, my arms were already unclosed to clasp her; when suddenly her figure changed, her face grew pale, a stream of blood gushed from her bosom !Hassan, 'twas Evelina !

Saib & Has. Evelina!

Osm. Such as she sank at my feet expiring, while my hand grasped the dagger crimsoned with her blood! "We meet again this night," murmured her hollow voice! "Now rush to my arms-but first see what you have made me! embrace me, my bridegroom! we must never part again!" While speaking, her form withered away, the flesh fell from her bones, her eyes burst their sockets-a skeleton, loathsome and meagre, clasped me in its mouldering arms.

Saib. Most horrible!

Osm. And now blue dismal flames gleamed along the walls; the tombs were rent asunder; bands of fierce spectres rushed around me in frantic dance; furiously they gnashed their teeth, while they gazed upon me, and shrieked in loud yell," Welcome, thou fratricide!-welcome, thou lost for ever!" Horror burst the bands of sleep; distracted I flew hither. But my feelings-words are too weak, too powerless to express them.

Saib. My lord! my lord! this was no idle dream, it was a celestial warning, 'twas your better angel that whispered "Osmond, repent your former crimes. Commit not new ones!" Remember, that this night should Kenrick

Osm. Kenrick? oh, speak! drank he the poison? Saib. Obedient to your orders, I presented it to him at supper; but ere the cup reached his lips, his favourite dog sprang upon his arm, and dashed it to the ground. Osm. Praised be Heaven! then my soul is lighter by a crime! Kenrick shall live. What though he quit me, and betray my secrets? Proofs he cannot