He saw in fearful reveries arise,

Phantasmagorias of those dreadful men Whose fame associate with Irish plots is, Fitzgeralds-Tones-O'Conners-Hares

and then

little in his eyes"

"Those Emmets," not so "little in his

As Doctor Watts's!

He felt himself piked, roasted,—carv'd and hack'd,

His big black burly body seemed in fact
A pincushion for Terror's pins and needles,-
Oh, how he wish'd himself beneath the sun
Of Afric―or in far Barbadoes-one
Of Bishop Coleridge's new black beadles.

Full of this fright,

With broken peace and broken English choking,

As black as any raven and as croaking, Pompey rushed in upon his master's sight, Plump'd on his knees, and clasp'd his sable digits,

Thus stirring Curiosity's sharp fidgets— "O Massa! - Massa!-Colonel!-Massa

Case.

Not go to Ireland!-Ireland dam bad place; Dem take our bloods-dem Irish-every

drop

Oh why for Massa go

To have him life ?"

a stop,

so far a distance
Here Pompey made

Putting an awful period to existence.

"Not go to Ireland-not to Ireland, fellow, And murder'd, why should I be murder'd, Sirrah ?"

Cried Case, with anger's tinge upon his

yellow,—

Pompey, for answer, pointing in a mirror

The Colonel's saffron, and his own japan,"Well, what has that to do-quick-speak outright, boy?"

“O Massa ”—(so the explanation ran) "Massa be killed-'cause Massa Orange

Man.

And Pompey killed-'cause Pompey not a White Boy!"

THE INCHCAPE ROCK.

By R. SOUTHEY.

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The ship was as still as she could be,
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock

The waves flow'd over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The worthy Abbot of Aberbrothok

Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;

On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung.

When the rock was hid by the surge's swell,
The mariners heard the warning bell;
And then they knew the perilous rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.

The sun in heaven was shining gay,

All things were joyful on that day; The sea-birds scream'd as they wheel'd around,

And there was joyaunce in their sound.

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck,
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.