Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! Never to hope again.— Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me, Let's dry our eyes and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Love thyself last cherish those hearts that hate thee; Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell And,—Prithee, lead me in : There, take an inventory of all I have; To the last penny, 'tis the king's my robe, I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, SHAKSPERE'S HENRY VIII. THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED. TREAD Softly-bow the head In reverent silence bow- Is passing now. Stranger! however great, With lowly reverence bow ; There's one in that poor shed- Greater than thou. Beneath that beggar's roof, Lo! Death doth keep his state; Enter-no guards defend This palace-gate. That pavement damp and cold One silent woman stands, Lifting with meagre hands, No mingling voices sound An infant wail alone; A sob suppress'd-again That short deep gasp-and then Oh! change-Oh! wondrous change! This moment there, so low, So agonized and now Beyond the stars! Oh! change-stupendous change! There lies the soul-less clod! The sun eternal breaks The new immortal wakes Wakes with his God. CAROLINE BOWLES. THE QUARREL. "HUSH, Joanna! 'tis quite certain "You'll forgive me! Sir, I hate you! You have used me like a churl; Have my senses ceased to guide me? Do you think I am a girl?" "Oh, no! you're a girl no longer, "Oh, I hate you! but why vex me? "But, Joanna, why this pother? "Common sense! you never had it; Oh, that ever I was born! To be wedded to a monster Who repays my love with scorn." "Well Joanna, we'll not quarrel; But I'm sorry I am married,— "Mad, indeed! I'm glad you know it; But, if law can break the chain, I'll be tied to you no longer In this misery and pain." 'Hush, Joanna! shall the servants Hear you argue ever wrong? Can you not have done with folly ?— Own the coffee was not strong." "Oh! you goad me past endurance, Trifling with my woman's heart! But I loathe you, and detest you,— Villain! monster! let us part! Long this foolish quarrel lasted, Summon'd never-failing aid; |