These mourners here, who from their carriages
Stare at the gaping crowd. A good March wind
Were to be prayed for now, to lend their eyes
Some decent rheum. The very hireling mute
Bears not a face blanker of all emotion
Than the old servant of the family!

How can this man have lived, that thus his death
Costs not the soiling one white handkerchief!

TOWNSMAN.

Who should lament for him, sir, in whose heart
Love had no place, nor natural charity?
The parlour spaniel, when she heard his step,
Rose slowly from the hearth, aud stole aside
With creeping pace; she never raised her eyes
To woo kind words from him, nor laid her head
Upraised upon his knee, with fondling whine.
How could it be but thus! Arithmetic
Was the sole science he was ever taught;
The multiplication-table was his Creed,
His Pater-noster, and his Decalogue.

When yet he was a boy, and should have breathed
The open air and sunshine of the fields,

To give his blood its natural spring and play,

He in a close and dusky counting-house,

Smoke-dried and sear'd and shrivell'd up his heart.
So, from the way in which he was train'd up,

His feet departed not; he toil'd and moil'd,'

Poor muck-worm! through his threescore years and ten:
And when the earth shall now be shovell'd on him,-

If that which served him for a soul were still
Within its husk,-'twould still be dirt to dirt.

STRANGER.

Yet your next newspapers will blazon him
For industry and honourable wealth

A bright example.

TOWNSMAN.

Even half a million

Gets him no other praise. But come this way

Some twelve-months hence, and you will find his virtues

Trimly set forth in lapidary lines,

Faith, with her torch beside, and little Cupids

Dropping upon his urn their marble tears.

BALLADS AND METRICAL PIECES,

JASPAR.

JASPAR was poor, and vice and want
Had made his heart like stone,
And Jaspar look'd with envious eyes
On riches not his own.

On plunder bent abroad he went
Towards the close of day,
And loitered on the lonely road
Impatient for his prey.

No traveller came, he loiter'd long,
And often look'd around,

And paused and listen'd eagerly
To catch some coming sound.

He sat him down beside the stream
That cross'd the lonely way,

So fair a seene might well have charm'd
All evil thoughts away:

He sat beneath a willow tree

That cast a trembling shade,

The gentle river full in front
A little island made,

Where pleasantly the moon-beam shone
Upon the poplar trees,

Whose shadow on the stream below
Play'd slowly to the breeze.

He listen'd-and he heard the wind
That waved the willow tree;
He heard the waters flow along

And murmur quietly.

He listen'd for the traveller's tread,
The nightingale sung sweet,——
He started up, for now he heard
The sound of coming feet;

He started up and graspt a stake
And waited for his prey:
There came a lonely traveiler
And Jaspar crost his way.

But Jaspar's threats and curses fail'd
The traveller to appal,

He would not lightly yield the purse
That held his little all.

Awhile he struggled, but he strove
With Jaspar's strength in vain;
Beneath his blows he fell and groan'd,
And never spoke again.

He lifted up the murdered man
And plunged him in the flood,
And in the running water then
He cleansed his hands from blood.

The waters closed around the corpse And cleansed his hands from gore, The willow waved, the stream flowed on And murmured as before.

There was no human eye

had seen

The blood the murderer spilt,
And Jaspar's conscience never knew
The avenging goad of guilt.

And soon the ruffian had consum'd
The gold he gain'd so ill,

And years of secret guilt pass'd on
And he was needy still.

One eve beside the alehouse fire

He sat as it befell,

When in there came a labouring man
Whom Jaspar knew full well.

He sat him down by Jaspar's side
A melancholy man,

For spite of honest toil, the world
Went hard with Jonathan.

His toil a little earn'd, and he
With little was content,

But sickness on his wife had fallen
And all he had was spent.

Then with his wife and little ones
He shared the scanty meal,
And saw their looks of wretchedness,
And felt what wretches feel.

That very morn the landlord's power
Had seized the little left,

And now the sufferer found himself
Of everything bereft.

He leant his head upon

His elbow on his knee,

his hand,

And so by Jaspar's side he sat,

And not a word said he.

Nay-why so downcast? Jaspar cried,
Come-cheer up, Jonathan!

Drink,neighbour, drink! 'twill warm thy heart,—
Come! come! take courage, man!

He took the cup that Jaspar gave,
And down he drain'd it quick;
I have a wife, said Jonathan,
And she is deadly sick.

She has no bed to lie upon,

I saw them take her bed :—
And I have children-would to God
That they and I were dead!

Our landlord he goes home to-night,
And he will sleep in peace-
I would that I were in my grave,
For there all troubles cease.

In vain I pray'd him to forbear,
Though wealth enough has he!
God be to him as merciless

As he has been to me!

When Jaspar saw the poor man's soul
On all his ills intent,

He plied him with the heartening cup,
And with him forth he went.

This landlord on his homeward road
"Twere easy now to meet.
The road is lonesome, Jonathan!—
And vengeance, man! is sweet.

He listen❜d to the tempter's voice,
The thought it made him start.
His head was hot, and wretchedness
Had hardened now his heart.

Along the lonely road they went
And waited for their prey,

They sat them down beside the stream
That crossed the lonely way.

They sat them down beside the stream, And never a word they said,

They sat and listen'd silently

To hear the traveller's tread.

The night was calm, the night was dark, No star was in the sky,

The wind it waved the willow boughs,

The stream flowed quietly.

The night was calm, the air was still,
Sweet sung the nightingale,
The soul of Jonathan was sooth'd,
His heart began to fail.

'Tis weary waiting here, he cried,
And now the hour is late,-
Methinks he will not come to-night,
"Tis useless more to wait.