For through the wide and wasted land
A stream of fire, through banks of sand,
Its burning billows spread;
The vapours, tremulously light,

Hung quiv'ring o'er the glowing white,
The air he breath'd was red.

Beyond a stately well arose,-
He saw its crystal sides disclose
Green fields and shady trees,

And running waters cool and clear,

Whose murmurs reach'd his tortured ear,

Born on the fiery breeze.

A voice in thunder cried-" Retire!"—

He look'd, and lo, a form of fire!

"Return!"—the Dæmon said.

His soul

grew sick with deep alarm,

The Fiend reach'd out his burning arm, And touch'd Sir Ouvain's head.

Sir Ouvain shriek'd-for then he felt
His eye-balls burn, his marrow melt,

His brain as liquid lead :
And from his heart the boiling blood
Roll'd fast an agonizing flood,

Through limbs like iron red.

The anguish brought a brief despair,
Then mindful of the aid of pray'r,
He call'd on Christ again;

Instant the gales of Eden came,

At once they quench'd th' infernal flame, And heal'd each scorching vein.

To him, relieved from all his woes,
The adamantine gates unclose,

Free entrance there was giv'n;

And

songs of triumph met his ear, Enrapt Sir Ouvain seem'd to hear

The harmonies of heav'n.

"Welcome to this, the bless'd retreat,

"Thou who hast pass'd, with fearless feet, "St. Patrick's Purgatory;

"For after death these seats divine,

"Reward eternal shall be thine,

"And thine eternal glory.".

Inebriate with the deep delight,

Dim grew Sir Ouvain's swimming sight,

His senses died away ;

To life again revived, before

The entrance of the cave once more

He saw the light of day.

No. LI.

THE CINDER KING.

The following was sent me anonymously; the Reader will of course observe, that it is a burlesque imitation of the ballads of" the Erl-King," and "the Cloud-King."

"WHO is it that sits in the kitchen, and weeps, "While tick goes the clock, and the tabby-cat sleeps; "That watches the grate, without ceasing to spy, "Whether purses or coffins will out of it fly ?"

'Tis Betty; who saw the false tailor, Bob Scott, Lead a bride to the altar; which bride she was not: 'Tis Betty; determined, love from her to fling, And woo, for his riches, the dark Cinder-King.

Now

spent tallow-candle-grease fatten'd the soil, And the blue-burning lamp had half wasted its oil, And the black-beetle boldly came crawling from far, And the red coals were sinking beneath the third bar ;

When, "one" struck the clock-and instead of the bird
Who used to sing cuckoo whene'er the clock stirr'd,
Out burst a grim raven, and utter'd “caw! caw!"
While puss, though she 'woke, durst not put forth a claw.

Then the jack fell a-going as if one should sup,

Then the hearth rock'd as though it would swallow one up;
With fuel from hell, a strange coal-skuttle came,
And a self-handled poker made fearful the flame.

A cinder shot from it, of size to amaze,

(With a bounce, such as Betty ne'er heard in her days,) Thrice, serpent-like, hiss'd, as its heat fled away,

And lo! something dark in a vast coffin lay.

-"Come Betty!"—quoth croaking that non-descript thing, "Come bless the fond arms of your true Cinder-king! "Three more Kings, my brothers, are waiting to greet ye, Who,-don't take it ill!-must at four o'clock eat ye.

66

66

My darling! it must be, do make up your

"We element brothers, united, and kind,

mind;

"Have a feast and a wedding, each night of our lives,

"So constantly sup on each other's new wives."

Ee

In vain squall'd the cook-maid, and pray'd not to wed; Cinder craunch'd in her mouth, cinder rain'd on her head,

She sank in the coffin with cinders strewn o'er,

And coffin nor Betty saw man any more.