Sidebilder
PDF
ePub

Or in cold sheets thy sprite perchance is flying

The world about-
Dying—and yet, not like the Devil dying-

Dele,—the Evil out!

Before sweet sleep drew down
The blinds upon thy Day & Martin eyes,
Thou did’st let slip thy slip of mischief on me,
With weary, weary sighs;
And then, outworn with demoning o'er town,

Oblivion won thee !
Best of compositors ! thou didst compose
Thy decent little wicked self, and go
A Devil-cruiser round the shores of sleep-
I hear thee fathom many a slumber-deep,

In the waves of woe; .
Dropping thy lids of lead
To sound the dead !

Heaven forgive me! I
Have wicked schemes about thee, wicked one;
And in my scheming, sigh
And stagger under a gigantic thought;
“ What if I run my pen into thine eye,
And put thee out?
Killing the Devil will be a noble deed,
A deed to snatch perdition from mankind-
To make the Methodist's a stingless creed-
To root out terror from the Brewer's mind-
And break the bondage which the Printer presses-
To change the fate of Lawyers-
Confirm the Parson's holy sinecure-
Make worthless sin’s approaches-
To justify the bringing up addresses
To me, in hackney coaches,
From operative Sawyers !”

“ To murder thee”Methinks—" will never harm my precious headFor what can chance me, when the Devil is dead ?” But when I look on thy serene repose, Hear the small Satan dying through thy nose, My thoughts become less dangerous and more

deep; I can but wish thee everlasting sleep!

Sleep free from dreams Of type, and ink, and press, and dabbing-ball

Sleep free from all That would make shadowy, devilish slumber

- darker, Sleep free from Mr. Baldwin's Mr. Parker!

Oh! fare thee well!
Farewell, black bit of breathing sin ! Farewell,
Tiny remembrancer of a Printer's Hell!

Young thing of darkness, seeming
A small, poor type of wickedness set up !

Full is thy little cup
Of misery in the waking world! So dreaming
Perchance may now undemonize thy fate

And bear thee, Black-boy, to a whiter state !
Yet mortal evil is, than thine, more high ;-
Thou art upright in sleep; men sleep—and lie!
And from thy lids to me a moral peeps,
For I correct my errorswhile the Devil sleeps !

ANACREONTIC,

· FOR THE NEW YEAR.

Come, fill up the Bowl, for if ever the glass

Found a proper excuse or fit season,
For toasts to be honored, or pledges to pass,

Sure, this hour brings an exquisite reason : For, hark! the last chime of the dial has ceased,

And Old Time, who has leisure to cozen, Having finished the months, like the flasks at a

feast, Is preparing to tap a fresh dozen !

Hip! Hip! and Hurrah !

Then fill, all ye Happy and Free, unto whom

The past Year has been pleasant and sunny ; Its months each as sweet as if made of the bloom

Of the thyme whence the bee gathers honeyDays ushered by dew-drops, instead of the tears,

Maybe, wrung from some wretcheder cousin

Then fill, and with gratitude join in the cheers
That triumphantly hail a fresh dozen !

Hip! Hip! and Hurrah !

And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast,

And been bowed to the earth by its fury; To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently

passed, Were as harsh as a prejudiced juryStill, fill to the future! and join in our chime,

The regrets of remembrance to cozen, And having obtained a New Trial of Time, Shout, in hopes of a kindlier dozen !

Hip! Hip! and Hurrah!

EPIGRAM.

ON THE DEPRECIATED MONEY.

They may talk of the plugging and sweating

Of our coinage that's minted of gold, But to me it produces no fretting

Of its shortness of weight to be told : All the sov’reigns I'm able to levy

As to lightness can never be wrong, But must surely be some of them heavy

For I never can carry them long.

TO C. DICKENS, ESQ.,

ON HIS DEPARTURE FOR AMERICA.

Pshaw! away with leaf and berry,

And the sober-sided cup!
Bring a goblet, and bright sherry,

And a bumper fill me up!
Though a pledge I had to shiver,

And the longest ever was ! Ere his vessel leaves our river,

I would drink a health to Boz!.

Here's success to all his antics,

Since it pleases him to roam, And to paddle o’er Atlantics,

After such a sale at home! May he shun all rocks whatever,

And each shallow sand that lurks, And his passage be as clever

As the best among his works.

« ForrigeFortsett »