These mourners here, who from their carriages How can this man have lived, that thus his death TOWNSMAN. Who should lament for him, sir, in whose heart When yet he was a boy, and should have breathed To give 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 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 On plunder bent abroad he went No traveller came, he loiter'd long, And paused and listen'd eagerly He sat him down beside the stream So fair a seene might well have charm'd He sat beneath a willow tree That cast a trembling shade, The gentle river full in front Where pleasantly the moon-beam shone Whose shadow on the stream below He listen'd-and he heard the wind And murmur quietly. He listen'd for the traveller's tread, He started up and graspt a stake But Jaspar's threats and curses fail'd He would not lightly yield the purse Awhile he struggled, but he strove He lifted up the murdered man 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 And soon the ruffian had consum'd One eve beside the alehouse fire He sat as it befell, When in there came a labouring man 8 He sat him down by Jaspar's side For spite of honest toil, the world His toil a little earn'd, and he Then with his wife and little ones That very morn the landlord's power And now the sufferer found himself He leant his head upon his hand, His elbow on his knee, Nay-why so downcast? Jaspar cried, Drink,neighbour, drink! 'twill warm thy heart, He took the cup that Jaspar gave, And she is deadly sick. She has no bed to lie upon, - And I have children-would to God Our landlord he goes home to-night, I would that I were in my grave, In vain I pray'd him to forbear, 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 He listen'd to the tempter's voice, Along the lonely road they went They sat them down beside the stream, 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, 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. |