well, however; it reminds me of that melancholy air which has so often solaced the hours of my captivity. Let me see whether the damps of this dungeon have not yet injured my guitar. [_Takes his guitar, tunes it, and begins the following air with a full accompaniment of violins from the orchestra:--_] [_Air, 'Lanterna Magica.'_] SONG Whene'er with haggard eyes I view This dungeon that I'm rotting in, I think of those companions true Who studied with me at the U-- --niversity of Gottingen, --niversity of Gottingen. [_Weeps and pulls out a blue kerchief, with which he wipes his eyes; gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds:--_] Sweet kerchief, checked with heavenly blue, Which once my love sat knotting in!-- Alas! Matilda _then_ was true! At least I thought so at the U-- --niversity of Gottingen, --niversity of Gottingen. [_At the repetition of this line Rogero clanks his chains in cadence._] Barbs! barbs! alas! how swift you flew, Her neat post-wagon trotting in! Ye bore Matilda from my view; Forlorn I languished at the U-- --niversity of Gottingen, --niversity of Gottingen. This faded form! this pallid hue! This blood my veins is clotting in! My years are many--they were few When first I entered at the U-- --niversity of Gottingen, --niversity of Gottingen. There first for thee my passion grew, Sweet, sweet Matilda Pottingen! Thou wast the daughter of my Tu- tor, law professor at the U-- --niversity of Gottingen, --niversity of Gottingen. [A]Sun, moon, and thou, vain world, adieu! That kings and priests are plotting in: Here doomed to starve on water gru-- el, never shall I see the U-- --niversity of Gottingen, --niversity of Gottingen. [_During the last stanza Rogero dashes his head repeatedly against the walls of his prison, and finally so hard as to produce a visible contusion. He then throws himself on the floor in an agony. The curtain drops, the music still continuing to play till it is wholly fallen._] [A] This verse is said to have been added by the younger Pitt. THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER FRIEND OF HUMANITY Needy Knife-grinder! whither are you going? Rough is the road; your wheel is out of order-- Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in't, So have your breeches! Weary Knife-grinder! little think the proud ones Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike Road, what hard work 'tis crying all day, "Knives and Scissors to grind O!" Tell me, Knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives? Did some rich man tyrannically use you? Was it some squire? or parson of the parish? Or the attorney? Was it the squire, for killing of his game? or Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining? Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little All in a lawsuit?