’Twas in a dreary midsummer night, I bore thee myself to the grave outright; The nightingales sang their soft lamentations, And after us follow’d the bright constellations. As through the forest the train moved along, They made it resound with the litany’s song; The firs, in their mantles of mourning veil’d closely, The prayers for the dead repeated morosely. And as o’er the willowy lake we flew The elfins were dancing full in our view; They suddenly stopp’d in wondering fashion, And seem’d to regard us with looks of compassion. And when we had reach’d the grave, full soon From out of the heavens descended the moon, And preach’d a sermon, ’midst tears and condoling While in the distance the bells were tolling. READY MONEY. Love, before she granted favours, One day told the god Apollo She on guarantees insisted, For the times were false and hollow. Laughingly the god made answer: “Yes, the times are alter’d truly, “And thou speakest like a usurer “Who on pawn lends money duly. “Well, then, I’ve a lyre, one only,-- “’Tis of gold, a good and rare one; “Prythee say how many kisses “Thou wilt lend upon it, fair one?” THE OLD ROSE. She for whom my heart once beat Was a rosebud fair and tender; Yet it ever grew more sweet, Bursting into full-blown splendour. ’Twas the loveliest that could be, And to pluck it I bethought me; But it stung me piquantly With its thorns, and prudence taught me. Now, when wither’d, torn, and maim’d, By the wind and tempests shatter’d, “Dearest Henry” I’m proclaim’d, And I’m follow’d, sought, and flatter’d. Henry here and Henry there Calleth she with ceaseless din now; If a thorn is anywhere, ’Tis upon the fair one’s chin now. O how hard the bristles grow On the chin’s warts of my beauty! Either to a convent go, Or to shave will be thy duty. AUTO-DA-FÉ. See these violets, dusty tresses, And this faded ribbon blue, Long forgotten cherish’d trifles, And these half-torn billets-doux,-- All, with angry look and gesture In the blazing fire I throw; Sadly crackle up these relics Of my happiness and woe. Vows of love, and fond deceiving Broken oaths all upwards fly In the chimney, while in secret Cupid laughs maliciously. Dreamily beside the fireplace Sit I, while the sparkles bright Glow in silence midst the ashes,-- So farewell! good night! good night! LAZARUS. 1. THE WAY OF THE WORLD. He who has already much, Finds his wealth increasing faster; Who but little, is of all Soon bereft by some disaster. But if thou hast nothing, friend, Go and hang thyself this minute; Only they who’ve aught on earth Have a claim for living in it. 2. RETROSPECT.