Pan beheld Patrocles dying, Nox to Niobe was turned; From Busiris Bacchus flying, Saw his Semele inurned. Thus fell Drury's lofty glory, Leveled with the shuddering stones Mars, with tresses black and gory, Drinks the dew of pearly groans. Hark! what soft Aeolian numbers Gem the blushes of the morn! Break, Amphion, break your slumbers, Nature's ringlets deck the thorn. Ha! I hear the strain erratic Dimly glance from pole to pole; Raptures sweet, and dreams ecstatic Fire my everlasting soul. Where is Cupid's crimson motion? Billowy ecstasy of woe, Bear me straight, meandering ocean, Where the stagnant torrents flow. Blood in every vein is gushing, Vixen vengeance lulls my heart, See, the Gorgon gang is rushing! Never, never, let us part! WHAT IS LIFE BY "ONE OF THE FANCY." BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE And do you ask me, "What is LIFE?" And do you ask me, "What is pleasure?" My muse and I are not at strife, So listen, lady, to my measure:-- Listen amid thy graceful leisure, To what is LIFE, and what IS pleasure. 'Tis LIFE to see the first dawn stain With sallow light the window-pane: To dress--to wear a rough drab coat, With large pearl buttons all afloat Upon the waves of plush: to tie A kerchief of the King-cup dye (White spotted with a small bird's-eye) Around the neck, and from the nape Let fall an easy fan-like cape: To quit the house at morning's prime, At six or so--about the time When watchmen, conscious of the day Puff out their lantern's rush-light ray; Just when the silent streets are strewn With level shadows, and the moon Takes the day's wink and walks aside To nurse a nap till eventide. 'Tis LIFE to reach the livery stable, Secure the RIBBONS and the DAY-BILL, And mount a gig that had a spring Some summer's back: and then take wing Behind (in Mr. Hamlet's tongue) A jade whose "withers are unwrung;" Who stands erect, and yet forlorn, And from a HALF-PAY life of corn, Showing as many POINTS each way As Martial's Epigrammata, Yet who, when set a-going, goes Like one undestined to repose. 'Tis LIFE to revel down the road, And QUEER each o'erfraught chaise's load, To rave and rattle at the GATE, And shower upon the gatherer's pate Damns by the dozens, and such speeches As well betokens one's SLANG riches: To take of Deady's bright STARK NAKED A glass or so--'tis LIFE to take it! To see the Hurst with tents encampt on; Lurk around Lawrence's at Hampton; Join the FLASH crowd (the horse being led Into the yard, and clean'd and fed); Talk to Dav' Hudson, and Cy' Davis (The last a fighting rara avis), And, half in secret, scheme a plan For trying the hardy GAS-LIGHT-MAN. 'Tis LIFE to cross the laden ferry, With boon companions, wild and merry, And see the ring upon the Hurst With carts encircled--hear the burst At distance of the eager crowd. Oh, it is LIFE! to see a proud And dauntless man step, full of hopes, Up to the P. C. stakes and ropes, Throw in his hat, and with a spring,