Came a roar across the sea Of sea-lions in their glee, In a tongue remarkably Like Chinnook; And the maddened sea-gull seemed Still to utter, as he screamed, "Perish thus the wretch who deemed Himself Cooke!" But, on misty moonlit nights, Comes a skeleton in tights, Walks once more the giddy heights He mistook; And unseen to mortal eyes, Purged of grosser earthly ties, Now at last in spirit guise Outdoes Cooke. Still the sturdy ocean breeze Sweeps the spray of roaring seas, Where the Cliff-House balconies Overlook; And the maidens in their prime, Reading of this mournful rhyme, Weep where, in the olden time, Walked J. Cooke. The Legends of the Rhine. Beetling walls with ivy grown, Frowning heights of mossy stone; Turret, with its flaunting flag Flung from battlemented crag; Dungeon-keep and fortalice Looking down a precipice O'er the darkly glancing wave By the Lurline-haunted cave; Robber haunt and maiden bower, Home of Love and Crime and Power,-- That's the scenery, in fine, Of the Legends of the Rhine. One bold baron, double-dyed Bigamist and parricide, And, as most the stories run, Partner of the Evil One; Injured innocence in white, Fair but idiotic quite, Wringing of her lily hands; Valor fresh from Paynim lands, Abbot ruddy, hermit pale, Minstrel fraught with many a tale,-- Are the actors that combine In the Legends of the Rhine. Bell-mouthed flagons round a board; Suits of armor, shield, and sword; Kerchief with its bloody stain; Ghosts of the untimely slain; Thunder-clap and clanking chain; Headsman's block and shining axe; Thumbscrews, crucifixes, racks; Midnight-tolling chapel bell, Heard across the gloomy fell,-- These, and other pleasant facts, Are the properties that shine In the Legends of the Rhine. Maledictions, whispered vows Underneath the linden boughs; Murder, bigamy, and theft; Travellers of goods bereft; Rapine, pillage, arson, spoil,-- Every thing but honest toil, Are the deeds that best define Every Legend of the Rhine. That Virtue always meets reward, But quicker when it wears a sword; That Providence has special care Of gallant knight and lady fair; That villains, as a thing of course, Are always haunted by remorse,-- Is the moral, I opine, Of the Legends of the Rhine. Mrs. Judge Jenkins. [Being the Only Genuine Sequel to "Maud Muller."] Maud Muller, all that summer day, Raked the meadow sweet with hay; Yet, looking down the distant lane, She hoped the judge would come again. But when he came, with smile and bow, Maud only blushed, and stammered, "Ha-ow?" And spoke of her "pa," and wondered whether He'd give consent they should wed together. Old Muller burst in tears, and then Begged that the judge would lend him "ten;" For trade was dull, and wages low, And the "craps," this year, were somewhat slow. And ere the languid summer died, Sweet Maud became the judge's bride.