One spurn from his demoniac heel, -
Away, away they fly,

Where darkness might be bottled up
And sold for "Tyrian dye."

And what would happen to the land,
And how would look the sea,

If in the bearded devil's path

Our earth should chance to be?
Full hot and high the sea would boil,
Full red the forests gleam;
Methought I saw and heard it all
In a dyspeptic dream!

I saw a tutor take his tube

The Comet's course to spy;

I heard a scream, the gathered rays
Had stewed the tutor's eye;

I saw a fort, the soldiers all

Were armed with goggles green; Pop cracked the guns! whiz flew the balls! Bang went the magazine!

I saw a poet dip a scroll

Each moment in a tub,

I read upon the warping back,
"The Dream of Beelzebub";
He could not see his verses burn,
Although his brain was fried,

And ever and anon he bent

To wet them as they dried.

I saw the scalding pitch roll down
The crackling, sweating pines,

And streams of smoke, like water-spouts,

Burst through the rumbling mines;
I asked the firemen why they made
Such noise about the town;
They answered not, - but all the while

The brakes went up and down.

I saw a roasting pullet sit
Upon a baking egg;

I saw a cripple scorch his hand
Extinguishing his leg;

I saw nine geese upon the wing
Towards the frozen pole,
And every mother's gosling fell
Crisped to a crackling coal.

I saw the ox that browsed the grass
Writhe in the blistering rays,
The herbage in his shrinking jaws
Was all a fiery blaze;

I saw hugh fishes, boiled to rags,

Bob through the bubbling brine;

And thoughts of supper crossed my soul;
I had been rash at mine.

Strange sights! strange sounds! O fearful dream!
Its memory haunts me still,

The steaming sea, the crimson glare,
That wreathed each wooded hill;
Stranger! if through thy reeling brain
Such midnight visions sweep,
Spare, spare, O spare thine evening meal,
And sweet shall be thy sleep!

A NOONTIDE LYRIC.

HE dinner-bell, the dinner-bell

Is ringing loud and clear;

Through hill and plain, through street and lane,

It echoes far and near;

From curtained hall and whitewashed stall,
Wherever men can hide,
Like bursting waves from ocean caves,
They float upon the tide.

I smell the smell of roasted meat!
I hear the hissing fry!

The beggars know where they can go,
But where, O where shall I ?
At twelve o'clock men took my hand,
At two they only stare,
And eye me with a fearful look,
As if I were a bear!

The poet lays his laurels down,
And hastens to his greens;
The happy tailor quits his goose,
To riot on his beans;
The weary cobbler snaps his thread,
The printer leaves his pi;

His very devil hath a home,

But what, O what have I?

Methinks I hear an angel voice,
That softly seems to say:

"Pale stranger, all may yet be well,
Then wipe thy tears away;

Erect thy head, and cock thy hat,
And follow me afar,

And thou shalt have a jolly meal,
And charge it at the bar."

I hear the voice! I go! I go!

Prepare your meat and wine!
They little heed their future need,
Who pay not when they dine.
Give me to-day the rosy bowl,

Give me one golden dream, -
To-morrow kick away the stool,

And dangle from the beam!

THE BALLAD OF THE OYSTERMAN.

T was a tall young oysterman lived by the river-side,

His shop was just upon the bank, his boat was on the tide;

The daughter of a fisherman, that was so straight and slim,

Lived over on the other bank, right opposite to

him.

It was the pensive oysterman that saw a lovely

maid,

Upon a moonlight evening, a sitting in the

shade;

He saw her wave her handkerchief, as much as if

to say,

"I'm wide awake, young oysterman, and all the folks away."

Then up arose the oysterman, and to himself said

he,

"I guess I'll leave the skiff at home, for fear that folks should see;

I read it in the story-book, that, for to kiss his dear, Leander swam the Hellespont, and I will swim

this here."

And he has leaped into the waves, and crossed the shining stream,

And he has clambered up the bank, all in the moonlight gleam;

O there were kisses sweet as dew, and words as soft as rain,

But they have heard her father's step, and in he leaps again!

Out spoke the ancient fisherman, -"O what was that, my daughter?

"'T was nothing but a pebble, sir, I threw into the water."

"And what is that, pray tell me, love, that paddles off so fast?"

"It's nothing but a porpoise, sir, that's been a swimming past."

Out spoke the ancient fisherman, -"Now bring me my harpoon!

I'll get into my fishing-boat, and fix the fellow soon."

Down fell that pretty innocent, as falls a snowwhite lamb,

Her hair drooped round her pallid cheeks, like seaweed on a clam.