"Now fare thee well!" The Traveller, silent,

Whilst terror consumed his soul, Went musing on. The night was still, And every star had drunk his fill,

At the brim of oblivion's bowl.

And now he near to the Gibbets approach'd!
The black Men waved in the air;

He rais'd his head, and cast a glance,

Yet heeded them not, tho' they seemed to dance, For he determin'd not to fear.

Wherefore, he cried, should men inclinc
To fear where no danger is found!
He scarce had said, when, in the dark night,
Beside him appear'd a Spirit in white!

He trembled, and could not look round.

He gallop'd away! the Spirit pursued!

And the murderers' irons they screak!

The gibbets are past, and now fast and more fast, The Horseman and Spirit outstrip the loud blast, Tho' neither have courage to speak.

Now both on the verge of the Common arrive,
Where a gate the free passage denied.

The Horseman his arm outstretch'd to expand
The gate to admit him, when, cold o'er his hand,
The mouth of the Spirit did glide.

He started! and swift through the still-darker lane
Gallop'd fast from the Being he fear'd;
But yet, as the shadow the substance pursues,
The Spirit, behind, by a side-glance he views,
And more luminous now it appear'd!

The turnpike he reach'd; "Oh tell me," he cried, "I can neither look round or go on;

"What Spirit is this which has follow'd me here "From the Common? good Master, I dreadfully fear, "Speak! speak! or my sense will be gone!"

"Ah Jenny," he cried, "thou crafty old Jade! "Is it thee? I'll beat thy bones bare. "Good Gentleman, fear not, no Spirit is nigh, "Which has follow'd you here from the common hard-by, ""Tis only old Gaffer's grey Mare!"

CITELTO.

ECLOGUE,

By ROBERT SOUTHEY.

THE LAST OF THE FAMILY.

JAMES.

What Gregory! you are come I see to join us

On this sad business.

GREGORY.

Aye, James, I am come,

But with a heavy heart, God knows it, man! Where shall we meet the corpse ?

JAMES.

Some hour from hence;

By noon, and near about the elms, I take it.
This is not as it should be, Gregory,

Old men to follow young ones to the grave!
This morning when I heard the bell strike out,
I thought that I had never heard it toll
So dismally before..

GREGORY.

Well, well! my friend

"Tis what we all must come to, soon or late.

But when a young man dies, in the prime of life, One born so well, who might have blest us all Many long years!

JAMES.

And then the family

Extinguish'd in him, and the good old name
Only to be remember'd on a tomb-stone!
A name that has gone down from sire to son
So many generations !-many a time

Poor Master Edward, who is now a corpse,
When but a child, would come to me and lead me
To the great family tree, and beg of me
To tell him stories of his ancestors,

Of Eustace, he that went to the Holy Land
With Richard Lion-heart, and that Sir Henry
Who fought at Crecy in King Edward's wars;
And then his little eyes would kindle so
To hear of their brave deeds! I used to think
The bravest of them all would not out-do

My darling boy.

GREGORY.

This comes of your great schools

And college breeding. Plague upon his guardians That would have made him wiser than his fathers!

JAMES.

If his poor father, Gregory! had but lived,

Things would not have been so. He, poor good man, Had little of book-learning, but there lived not

A kinder, nobler-hearted gentleman,

One better to his tenants.

When he died

There was not a dry eye for miles around.
Gregory, I thought that I could never know
A sadder day than that: but what was that,
Compared with this day's sorrow?

GREGORY.

I remember

Eight months ago when the young Squire began
To alter the old mansion, they destroy'd

The martins nests, that had stood undisturb'd
Under that roof,-aye! long before my memory;
I shook my head at seeing it, and thought
No good could follow.

JAMES.

Poor young man ! I loved hinr

Like my own child. I loved the family!

Come Candlemas, and I have been their servant
For five and forty years. I lived with them.