Here, reader, will we pause:- if there's no harm in My Muse 'gan weep, but,ere a tear was spilt, land clan THE VISION OF JUDGMENT. BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS. SUGGESTED BY THE COMPOSITION SO ENTITLED BY THE AUTHOR OF "WAT TYLER." It almost quench'd his innate thirst of evil. | What nature made him at his birth, as bare (Here Satan's sole good work deserves in- As the mere million's base unmummied sertionclay "Tis, that he has both generals in reversion.) | Yet all his spices but prolong decay. Let's skip a few short years of hollow peace, Twill one day finish: meantime they in crease, "With seven heads and ten horns," and all Less formidable in the head than horn. In the first year of freedom's second dawn one Who shielded tyrants, till each sense with- Left him nor mental nor external sun: He died!—his death made no great stir on earth; His burial made some pomp; there was profusion He's dead-and (upper earth with him has He's buried; save the undertaker's bill, common, Of constancy to a bad, ugly woman. "God save the king!" It is a large economy The eternity of hell's hot jurisdiction. I know this is unpopular; I know And that the other twice two hundred Of velvet, gilding, brass, and no great dearth Of aught but tears save those shed by And synagogues have made a damn'd bad collusion ; For these things may be bought at their true worth: Of elegy there was the due infusionBought also; and the torches, cloaks, and banners, Heralds, and relics of old Gothic manners, Form'd a sepulchral melo-drame. Of all Who cared about the corpse? The funeral purchase. God help us all! God help me, too! I am, Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate, came A wonderous noise he had not heard of A rushing sound of wind, and stream, So mix his body with the dust! It might think!" But ere he could return to his repose, eyes At which Saint Peter yawn'd, and rubb'd his nose: "Saint porter," said the Angel," prithee rise!" Waving a goodly wing, which glow'd, as glows An earthly peacock's tail, with heavenly dyes; To which the Saint replied, "Well, what's the matter; Is Lucifer come back with all this clatter?" "No," quoth the Cherub; "George the Third is dead," “And who is George the Third?” replied the Apostle; "What George? what Third?” “The King of England, “said The Angel. "Well! he wo'nt find kings to jostle Him on his way; but does he wear his head? Because the-we saw here had a tussle, And ne'er would have got into heaven's good graces, Had he not flung his head in all our faces. He was, if I remember, king of- crown On earth, yet ventured in my face to advance | And then he set up such a headless howl, That fellow Paul - the parvenu! The skin But had it come up here upon its shoulders, There would have been a different tale to tell: The fellow-feeling in the Saints beholders Seems to have acted on them like a spell, And so this very foolish head heaven solders Back on its trunk: it may be very well, And seems the custom here to overthrow Whatever has been wisely done below.” The Angel answer'd, "Peter! do not pout; The king who comes has head and all entire, As he drew near, he gazed upon the gate, Ne'er to be enter'd more by him or sin, With such a glance of supernatural hate, As made Saint Peter wish himself within; He potter'd with his keys at a great rate, And sweated through his apostolic skin : Of course his perspiration was but ichor, Or some such other spiritual liquor. The very cherubs huddled altogether, His guards had let him, though they As things were in this posture, the gate flew a new Aurora borealis spread its fringes O'er the North Pole; the same seen, when ice-bound, By Captain Parry's crews, in "Melville's Sound." |