The early beam of rosy night
Drives off the ebon morn afar,
While through the murmur of the light
The huntsman winds his mad guitar.
Then, lady, wake! my brigantine
Pants, neighs, and prances to be free;
Till the creation I am thine,
To some rich desert fly with me.
STANZAS TO AN EGG. [BY A SPOON.] PUNCH.
Pledge of a feather'd pair's affection,
Kidnapped in thy downy nest,
Soon for my breakfast—sad reflection!—
Must thou in yon pot be drest.
What are the feelings of thy mother?
Poor bereaved, unhappy hen!
Though she may lay, perchance, another,
Thee she ne'er will see again.
Yet do not mourn. Although above thee
Never more shall parent brood.
Know, dainty darling! that I love thee
Dearly as thy mother could.
A FRAGMENT. PUNCH.
His eye was stern and wild,—his cheek was pale and cold as clay;
Upon his tightened lip a smile of fearful meaning lay;
He mused awhile—but not in doubt—no trace of doubt was there;
It was the steady solemn pause of resolute despair.
Once more he look'd upon the scroll—once more its words he read—
Then calmly, with unflinching hand, its folds before him spread.
I saw him bare his throat, and seize the blue cold-gleaming steel,
And grimly try the tempered edge he was so soon to feel!
A sickness crept upon my heart, and dizzy swam my head,—
I could not stir—I could not cry—I felt benumb'd and dead;
Black icy horrors struck me dumb, and froze my senses o'er;
I closed my eyes in utter fear, and strove to think no more.
* * * * * * *
Again I looked,—a fearful change across his face had pass'd—
He seem'd to rave,—on cheek and lip a flaky foam was cast;
He raised on high the glittering blade—then first I found a tongue—
"Hold, madman! stay thy frantic deed!" I cried, and forth I sprung;
He heard me, but he heeded not; one glance around he gave;
And ere I could arrest his hand, he had begun to SHAVE!