And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dream ing, And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow, that lies floating on the floor, Shall be lifted-nevermore. Ex. CXXXIX.-PHAETHON. JOHN G. SAXE. DAN PHAETHON— -so the histories run- Now old Father Phoebus, ere railways begun Drove a very fast coach by the name of "The Sun;" (On Sundays and all, in a heathenish way,) Of lanterns that shone with a brilliant display, Now Phaethon begged of his doting old father, To darken the brow of the son of the Sun! I swear I will grant you whate'er you desire!” The youngster said, "I'll mount the coach when the horses are fed!For there's nothing I'd choose, as I'm alive, Like a seat on the box, and a dashing drive!" "Nay, Phaethon, do n't I beg you wont— Just stop a moment, and think upon 't! Your first appearance on any stage! The cattle are wild, And when their mettle is thorougly' riled,' You'll rue the day So mind, and do n't be foolish, Pha !” 'T was just the thing to astonish the crowd- In vain the boy was cautioned at large, He called for the chargers, unheeding the charge, He had given his word in such a hurry, He gave the youth a bit of advice: "Parce stimulis, utere loris!' (As the judge remarked to a rowdy Scotchman, Now Phaethon, perched in the coachman's place, Or bounding along in a steeple-chase! Whack-crack" Resounded along the horses' back !— 66 Off the coach was suddenly hurled, MORA L. Don't rashly take to dangerous courses- It's one of Old Nick's Diabolical tricks To get people into a regular "fix," Ex. CXL.-THE SONG OF THE BELL. WAKE, wake, wake! BUFFALO ADVERTISER. Up, sluggard, up! the sun appears: Awake, awake,-thy bed forsake Before the flowers have dried their tears! Before the last star sinks away, Lost in the golden Les of day : Hark! the matin bell Sounds o'er hill and dell! Bread, bread, bread! Merchant, scholar, and artisan, Hasten, hasten!-the board is spread:Thank the Giver, thou thankless man! How many poor ones hear my voice, Yet never, never like thee rejoice At the dinner bell, With its peal and swell. One, two, three ! Hark the numbering of the hours! Its oft-told story tell! Fire, fire, fire! Hurry the engine, hearts of oak! For the flame is rising,-higher, higher! Man on the ladder, mind your stroke! Dash in the window,-grasp that child,Pass him along ;-the mother is wild! Peal, peal! the fire bell! Crash, crash!-who was it fell? Toll, toll, toll! As the dark hearse moves o'er the lea. Soon will ring thy knell! Peal, peal, peal! The merry, merry marriage bell!— Two hearts are joined, for woe and weal, Together, while life lasts, to dwell. Peal out!-the golden knot is tied :— The joyful tidings tell! Hurra, hurra, hurra! The battle's done, the town is won; The victor-notes swell? Hurry, hurry!-Hark away! Rush on board, pell-mell. Pray, pray, pray! The Sabbath bell rings solemnly For thy soul's good. Oh! come away, To guide thee on the road to heaven! To win thy soul from hell! Rest, rest, rest! Weary laborer!-go to thy bed, Ex. CXLI.-PLEASURES OF MEMORY. SWEET Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, up the stream of time I turn my sail Oft To view the haunts of long-lost hours, ROGERS. Blessed with far greener shades, far fresher bowers. |