An Angel came to me and said: "O pitiable foolish young man! O horrible! O dreadful state! consider the hot burning dungeon thou art preparing for thyself to all eternity, to which thou art going to such career."
I said: "perhaps you will be willing to shew me my eternal lot & we will contemplate together upon it and see whether your lot or mine is most desirable."

A more humane Mikado never
Did in Japan exist;
To nobody second,
I'm certainly reckoned
A true philanthropist.
It is my very humane endeavour
To make, to some extent,
Each evil liver
A running river
Of harmless merriment.

My object all sublime
I shall achieve in time —
To let the punishment fit the crime —
The punishment fit the crime;
And make each prisoner pent
Unwillingly represent
A source of innocent merriment —
Of innocent merriment!

All prosy dull society sinners,

Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burdened air;
Hungry clouds swag on the deep.

Once meek, and in a perilous path,
The just man kept his course along
The vale of death;
Roses are planted where thorns grow,
And on the barren heath
Sing the honey bees.

Then the perilous path was planted;
And a river, and a spring
On every cliff and tomb;
And on the bleached bones
Red clay brought forth.

Till the villain left the paths of ease
To walk in perilous paths, and drive
The just man into barren climes.

Below fair Peebles, on the river's side,
The merry beggars were busking a bride,
A gang of strollers acting their freaks,
Gabbling and dancing as merry as Greeks.
In a thicket of trees myself I hid,
Where I heard and saw what the beggars did.

No shelly-coat goblin, or elf on the green,
E'er tripped more nimbly than the beggars' Queen;
Blobberlips the bride did dance and play
(For this, it seems, was her wedding-day).
She was matched to old Scrape, the maunders' King
(This made all the rag-regiment sing),

A SONG WITH A STOLEN BURDEN

Off with your hat! along the street
— His Lordship's carriage rolls;
Respect to greatness — when it shines
— To cheer our darkened souls.
Get off the step, you ragged boys!
— Policeman, where's your staff?
This is a sight to check with awe
— The most irreverent laugh.
— Chapeau bas!
— Chapeau bas!
Gloire au Marquis de Carabas!

Stand further back! we'll see him well;
— Wait till they lift him out:
It takes some time; his Lordship's old,

I

Crouched where the open upland billows down
Into the valley where the river flows,
She is as any other country town,
That little lives or marks or hears or knows.

And she can teach but little. She has not
The wonder and the surging and the roar
Of striving cities. Only things forgot
That once were beautiful, but now no more,

At midnight, in his guarded tent,
The Turk was dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power:
In dreams, through camp and court, he bore
The trophies of a conqueror;
In dreams his song of triumph heard;
Then wore his monarch's signet ring:
Then pressed that monarch's throne--a king;
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,
As Eden's garden bird.

At midnight, in the forest shades,
Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,
True as the steel of their tried blades,
Heroes in heart and hand.

He is coming, my long-desired lord, whom I have been waiting to meet here, on the banks of the River of Heaven. ... The moment of loosening my girdle is nigh.
Over the Rapids of the Everlasting Heaven, floating in his boat, my lord will doubtless deign to come to me this very night.
Though winds and clouds to either bank may freely come or go, between myself and my far-away spouse no message whatever may pass.

malevole:I cannot sleepe, my eyes ill neighbouring lids
Will holde no fellowship: O thou pale sober night,
Thou that in sluggish fumes all sence doost steepe:
Thou that gives all the world full leave to play,
Unbendst the feebled veines of sweatie labour;
The gally-slave that, all the toilesome day,
Tugges at his oare against the stubburne wave,
Straining his rugged veines; snores fast:
The stooping sith-man that doth barbe the field,
Thou makest winke sure: in night all creatures sleepe,
Onely the Malecontent that gainst his fate,

PART VII.

Again rang out the music of the axe,
And on the slope, as in his happy dreams,
The home of Max with wealth of drooping vines
On the rude walls, and in the trellised porch
Sat Katie, smiling o'er the rich, fresh fields.
And by her side sat Malcolm, hale and strong,
Upon his knee a little smiling child
Named — Alfred, as the seal of pardon set
Upon the heart of one who sinned and woke
To sorrow for his sins; and whom they loved
With gracious joyousness, nor kept the dusk