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Unmov'd by his forrow, unmov'd by his pray'r,
Fierce Ofric had twisted his hand in his hair,
And aims at his bofom a knife.

But ere the fteel blushes with blood, ftrange to tell!
Self-ftruck, does the tongue of the hollow-ton'd bell
The prefence of midnight declare:

And while, with amazement, his hair briftles high,
Hears Ofric a voice, loud and terrible, cry,
In found heart-appalling-" Forbear!"

Straight, curfes and fhrieks through the chambers refound,
With hellish mirth mingled; the walls shake around;
The groaning roof threatens to fall;

Loud bellows the thunder; blue lightnings ftill flash;
The cafements, they clatter; chains rattle; doors clash;
And flames spread their waves through the hall.

The clamour increases; the portals expand;
O'er the pavement's black marble now rushes a band
Of demons, all dropping with gore;

In vifage fo grim, and fo monftrous in height,
That Charloman fcreams, as they burst on his fight,
And finks, without sense, on the floor.

Not fo fell his uncle: he fees that the throng
Impels, loudly fhrieking, a female along,
And well the fad spectre he knows:

The demons, with curfes, her fteps onwards urge,
Her fhoulders, with whips form'd of ferpents, they scourge,
And fast from her wounds the blood flows.

"Oh! welcome," fhe cry'd, and her voice spoke despair;
"Oh! welcome, Sir Ofric, the torments to share,
Of which thou haft made me the prey;
Twelve years have I languifh'd thy coming to fee;
Ulrilda, who perifh'd difhonour'd by thee,
Now calls thee to anguish away!

My ruin completed, thy love became hate,
Thy hand gave the draught which confign'd me to fate;
Nor thought I death lurk'd in the bowl:
Unfitted for dying, in guilt, and in pride,
Uubleft, unabfolv'd, unrepenting, I dy'd,
And demons ftraight feiz'd on my foul.

Thou com'it, and with transports I feel my breast fwell: Full long have I fuffer'd the torments of hell,

And now fhall its pleasures be mine!

See, fee, how the fiends are athirst for thy blood!
Twelve years has my panting heart furnish'd their food,
Come, wretch, let them feast upon thine!"

She faid, and the demons their prey flock'd around;
They dash'd him, with horrible yell, on the ground,
And blood down his limbs trickled faft:

His eyes from their fockets, with fury, they tore,
They fed on his entrails, all reeking with gore,
And his heart was Ulrilda's repast.

But now the grey cock told the coming of day:
The fiends with their victim ftraight vanifh'd away,
And Carloman's heart throbb'd again:

With terror, recalling the deeds of the night,
He rofe, and, from Falkenstein speeding his flight,
Soon reach'd his paternal domain.

Since then, all, with horror, the ruins behold;
No fhepherd, though ftray'd be a lamb from his fold,
No mother, though loft be her child,

The fugitive dares in these chambers to feek,
Where fiends nightly revel, and guilty ghosts shriek,
In accents moft fearful and wild.

Oh! fhun them, ye pilgrims! though late be the hour,
Though loud howl the tempeft, and fast fall the show'r,
From Falkenftein Castle be gone!

There ftill their fad banquet hell's denizens fhare;
There Ofric-the Lion, ftill raves in defpair;

Breathe a pray'r for his foul, and pass on!

THE TOPER AND THE FLIES.

BY PETER PINDAR, ESQ.

A Group of topers at a table fat,

With punch that much regales the thirsty soul:

Flies foon the party join'd, and join'd the chat,
Humming, and pitching round the mantling bowl;

At length thofe flies got drunk, and, for their fin,
Some hundreds loft their legs, and tumbled in;
And, fprawling 'midft the gulph profound,
Like Pharaoh and his daring hoft, were drown'd!
Wanting to drink-one of the men

He

Dipp'd from the bowl the drunken hoft,

And drank-then taking care than none were loft,
put in every mother's fon agen:

Up jump'd the bacchanalian crew on this,
Taking it very much amiss-

Swearing, and in the attitude to fmite;

"Lord!" cry'd the man, with gravely-lifted eyes, "Though I don't like to fwallow flies,

"I did not know but others might."

GILES JOLLUP the GRAVE and BROWN
SALLY GREEN.

A PARODY.

BY M. G. LEWIS, ESQUIRE.

A Doctor fo prim and a fempfires fo tight
They fuck'd up the cordial with trueft delight:
Giles Jollup the Grave was just five feet in height,
And four feet the Brown Sally Green.

Hob-a-nobb'd in fome right marafquin;

"And as," faid Giles Jollup, " to-morrow I go "To phyfic a feverish land,

"At fome fix-penny hop, or perhaps the may'r's fhow, "You'll tumble in love with fome finart city beau,

"And with him share your fhop in the Strand." "Lord! how can you think fo?" Brown Sally Green faid, "You must know mighty little of me;

"For if you be living, or if you be dead,
"I fwear, 'pon my honour, that none in your stead
"Shall hufband of Sally Green be.

"And if e'er for another my heart should decide,
"Falfe to you and the faith which I gave,

"God grant, that, at dinner, too amply supply'd, Over-eating may give me a pain in my fide;

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May your ghoft then bring rhubarb to phyfic the bride, "And fend her well-dos'd to the grave!"

Away went poor Giles, to what place is not told.
Sally wept, till fhe blew her nofe fore!

But fcarce had a twelvemonth elaps'd, when, behold!
A Brewer, quite ftilifh, his gig that way roll'd,
And stopp'd it at Sally Green's door.

His wealth, his pot-belly, and whisky of cane,
Soon made her untrue to her vows:
The fteam of strong beer now bewild'ring her brain,
He caught her while tipfy! Denials were vain,
So he carried her home as his fpouse.

And now the roast beef had been bleft by the priest,
To cram now the guests had begun;

Tooth and nail, like a wolf, fell the bride on the feast,
Nor yet had the clash of her knife and fork ceas'd,

When a bell-('twas a duftman's)-toll'd "one !" Then first, with amazement, Brown Sally Green found, That a ftranger was stuck by her fide :

His cravat and his ruffles with fnuff were embrown'd;
He ate not, he drank not, but, turning him round,
Sent fome pudding away to be fry'd!!!

His wig was turn'd forwards, and fhort was his height;
His apron was dirty to view:

The women (oh! wondrous!) were hufh'd at the fight: The cats, as they ey'd him, drew back, (well they might,} For his body was pea-green and blue!

Now as all wifh'd to fpeak, but none knew what to say, They look'd mighty foolish and queer.

At length spoke the bride, while fhe trembled-" I pray,
"Dear Sir, your peruke that afide you would lay,
"And partake of fome ftrong or small beer!"

The fempftress is filent; the ftranger complies,
And his wig from his phiz deigns to pull.
Adzooks! what a fquall Sally gave, through furprife!
Like a pig that is fluck, how the open'd her eyes,
When the recogniz'd Jollup's bare skull !'

Each mifs then exclaim'd, while fhe turn'd up her fnout,
"Sir, your head isn't fit to be feen!"
The pot-boys ran in, and the pot-boys ran out,
And could'nt conceive what the noise was about,
While the Doctor addrefs'd Sally Green:

"Behold me, thou jill-flirt! behold me!" he cry'd:
"You've broken the faith which you gave!
"God grants, that, to punifh your falfehood and pride,
"Over-eating fhould give you a pain in your
"Come, fwallow this rhubarb! I'll phyfic the bride,
"Ánd fend her well-dos'd to the grave!"

fide:

Thus faying, the phyfic her throat he forc'd down,
In fpite of whate'er fhe could fay;

Then bore to his chariot the damfel so brown;
Nor ever again was fhe feen in that town,
Or the Doctor who whisk'd her away.

Not long liv'd the Brewer: and none, fince that time,
To make ufe of the brew-houfe prefume;
For 'tis firmly believ'd, that, by order fublime,
There Sally Green fuffers the pain of her crime,
And bawls to get out of the room.

At midnight, four times in each year does her fprite,
With fhrieks, make the chamber refound;
"I won't take the rhubarb!" fhe fqualls, in affright,
While, a cup in his left hand, a draught in his right,
Giles Jollup purfues her around."

With wigs fo well powder'd, their fees while they crave,
Dancing round them, twelve doctors are seen:
They drink chicken-broth, while this horrible flave
Is twang'd thro' each nofe-"To Giles Jollup the Grave,
"And his patient, the fick Sally Green!"

WILLIAM PENN, NATHAN, and THE BAILIFF.

AS

BY PETER PINDAR, ESQ.

S well as I can recollect,

It is a ftory of fam'd WILLIAM PENN,

By Bailiffs oft befet, without effe&t,

Like numbers of our Lords and Gentlemen

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