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POEMS OF TRAGEDY.

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

[James Graham, Marquis of Montrose, was executed in Edinburgh, May 21, 1650, for an attempt to overthrow the Common. wealth, and restore Charles II.]

THE morning dawned full darkly,
The rain came flashing down,
And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt
Lit up the gloomy town.

The thunder crashed across the heaven,
The fatal hour was come;
Yet aye broke in, with muffled beat,
The 'larum of the drum.

There was madness on the earth below
And anger in the sky,

And young and old, and rich and poor,
Came forth to see him die.

Ah God that ghastly gibbet!
How dismal 't is to see

The great tall spectral skeleton,

The ladder and the tree!

Hark! hark! it is the clash of arms,

The bells begin to toll,

"He is coming! he is coming!

God's mercy on his soul!"

One last long peal of thunder,

The clouds are cleared away,

And the glorious sun once more looks down Amidst the dazzling day.

"He is coming! he is coming!" Like a bridegroom from his room Came the hero from his prison

To the scaffold and the doom. There was glory on his forehead, There was luster in his eye, And he never walked to battle More proudly than to die. There was color in his visage,

Though the cheeks of all were wan; And they marveled as they saw him pass, That great and goodly man!

He mounted up the scaffold,

And he turned him to the crowd; But they dared not trust the people, So he might not speak aloud.

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Every day the starving poor
Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door;
For he had a plentiful last-year's store,
And all the neighborhood could tell
His granaries were furnished well.

At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day
To quiet the poor without delay;

He bade them to his great barn repair,

He laid him down and closed his eyes,
But soon a scream made him arise;
He started, and saw two eyes of flame
On his pillow, from whence the screaming came.

He listened and looked, it was only the cat ;
But the bishop he grew more fearful for that,
For she sate screaming, mad with fear
At the army of rats that were drawing near.

And they should have food for the winter there. For they have swum over the river so deep,

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And they have climbed the shores so steep,
And now by thousands up they crawl
To the holes and the windows in the wall.

Down on his knees the bishop fell,
And faster and faster his beads did he tell,
As louder and louder, drawing near,
The saw of their teeth without he could hear.

And in at the windows, and in at the door,
And through the walls, by thousands they pour;
And down from the ceiling and up through the
floor,

From the right and the left, from behind and
before,

From within and without, from above and be

low,

And all at once to the bishop they go.

They have whetted their teeth against the stones,
And now they pick the bishop's bones;
They gnawed the flesh from every limb,
For they were sent to do judgment on him!

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

THE SACK OF BALTIMORE.

[Baltimore is a small seaport in the barony of Carbery, in South Munster. It grew up around a castle of O'Driscoll's, and was, after his ruin, colonized by the English. On the 20th of June, 1631, the crews of two Algerine galleys landed in the dead of the night, sacked the town, and bore off into slavery all who were not too old, or too young, or too fierce, for their purpose. The pirates were steered up the intricate channel by one Hackett, a Dungarvan fisherman, whom they had taken at sea for the purpose. Two years after, he was convicted of the crime and executed. Baltimore never recovered from this.]

THE summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's
hundred isles,

The summer sun is gleaming still through
Gabriel's rough defiles, -

Old Inisherkin's crumbled fane looks like a
molting bird;

And in a calm and sleepy swell the ocean tide is heard:

The hookers lie upon the beach; the children

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