The great procession passed, with viol’s wail,
While underneath the canopy of gold,
Raised on the deck, lay Egypt’s queen, as cold
As when the aspic stung her. Spectres pale
Still haunt thy shore; thy waves all uselessly
Sweep on; “no galley there—no ship shall pass thereby.”
NELLY NOWLAN ON BLOOMERS.
———
BY MRS. S. C. HALL.