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The whilst the wretch upon the platform knelt,
And offer'd up warm orisons to heaven, That all his load of wrath-deserving guilt
Might, by a gracious Saviour, be forgiven ;--Still as the treacherous calm that ushers in
The dreadful concert of the warring spheres, Stood the spectators of th' appalling scene--
Nor few, I hope, were pity's heav'nly tears ! But when suspended from the tree he hung,
And one convulsive throe told life was o'er; A shriek from all the awe-struck crowd up-sprung,
That thrill'd the very threads of my heart's core! Homewards I turn'd as died the last long knoll--
And when the dead man's crimes to thought recurr'd, I trembled for the disembodied soul,
'Till blue-ey'd Hope's celestial strains I heard ;--- What mortal's bold, unholy tongue presumes
To pass eternal sentence on the dead?
Who erst on Calvary's awful summit bled ---
ON “TO BE, OR NOT TO BE." TO write, or not to write? that is the question! Whether 'tis better with a pen to scribble The flights and fancies of outrageous nonsense, Or to lay down the quill and cease to trouble The patience of the world? To write, to scrawl; And by that scrawl to say we utter all The bórrid stuff! The thousand foolish whimsies That labour in the brain''tis a deliverance Devoutly to be wish'd. To write, to scrawl.To scrawl---perchance to blot! ah! There's the rub! For, on a stricter view, what blots may come When we have scribbled all the paper o'er,
Must give us pause! There's the respect
Than shun the muses and forbear to rhyme.
Ashamed, afraid, yet blest,---
Then sun it intoʻrest :
Within their mothers' arms;
• PSYCHE, END OF VOL. II.
J. Arliss, Printer, Londow.