And to the hilt his vengeful sword His suppliant, as to earth he fell, But still his Gelert's dying yell Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Concealed beneath a tumbled heap, Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread→ Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain! Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe; The frantic deed which laid thee low, And now a gallant tomb they raise, There never could the spearman pass, There oft the tear-besprinkled grass And there he hung his horn and spear; In fancy's piercing sounds, would hear And till great Snowdon's rocks grow old, The consecrated spot shall hold TEMPERANCE RHYME-ATION. Ye friends of moderation, For common sustentation; Why sanction its duration, For its extermination? We deem a declaration, Nor any vain libation Be the theme of exultation Till its final consummation! THE BEGGAR'S PETITION.-THOMAS MOss. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man! Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, Oh! give relief, and heaven will bless your store. These tattered clothes my poverty bespeak, These hoary locks proclaim my lengthened years; Yon house, erected on the rising ground, (Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor!). Oh! take me to your hospitable dome, Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold; Should I reveal the source of every grief, If soft humanity e'er touched your breast, Heaven sends misfortunes-why should we repine? A little farm was my paternal lot, Then like the lark, I sprightly hailed the morn; My tender wife-sweet soother of my care-- And left the world to wretchedness and me! Then pity the sorrows of a poor old man! Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, Oh! give relief, and heaven will bless your store. PAT'S CORRESPONDENCE.-W. M. GIFFIN. Whist now! till I relate to you my-well yer what now? Oh! I hev it, me--no I heven't it thin. letter writing any how-now what do ye What is it? Its call it? Ah! ha! now I hev it-correspondence, that's the wourd. You know I wrote a letter to Tim Flanagin, Tim wrote a letter to me-Tim lives in the ould country, I live in the new. That's the difference between Tim and me; the difference did I say? Well now! that wourd makes me think of something I can't but tell till ye. It was the other day whin I was walking up Broad street, I heard some one a calling out, "Pat," seys he; "What do ye want," sed I; "I want till talk to ye," sed he; "Well talk away, thin," sed I; "Come along here, why don't ye thin?" "Where air ye that I may 66 come?" But jist thin I see a big red-nosed fellow peaking from behint a lamp-post. "Well, now," sed I to meself; "I don't know who thet fellow is at all at all. I'll go over any how and see what he wants o' the likes of me." So over I wint, and as I got within speaking distance he seys to me, seys he; "How air ye, Pat?" "What's thet to a mon I don't know?” sed I. "Oh well, Pat, me boy," sed he,“ niver mind thet, I hev a skanumdrum for ye." "A what,” said I. “A skanumdrum," sed he; "I'm going to ask-" "Ask nothing," sed I; "but give me thet--what do ye call it ?-the first thing ye do." "Yer not understanding me," sed he; "I mean by thet a riddle." ‘Oh, ho! a riddle is it? Out wid it thin; for its many a wone I guessed in the ould country." "Thin guess me this. What is the difference between yourself and a pig?" "Air ye joking?" sed I. "Not a bit of it, Pat, can ye tell?" Well jist thin one of the durty bastes passed us wid his [Grunting like a pig]. "Hear thet," sed I; "it's not in the voice any how." After scratching me head awhile, I sed to him, "I'll give it up." "Why, Pat, me boy, there is no difference at all." "Ain't there! Look a here young man thet may be what ye call a skanumdrum in Ameriky, but I give ye to understand thet in the ould country it would be a signal for the sudden dislocation of yer big red nose, and so it would." He didn't stop to hear it all, and it was well for him or me name's not Pat. 66 After looking at him awhile, I turned once more on me way, end I hed not gone far before I heard another cry of "Pat." 'Oh, ho!" sed I to meself; "here is another one of thim skanumdrums I suppose. Who air ye? Where air ye? And what do ye want?" sed I; all in a breath. "I'm here, and it is a speaking to ye I want," sed a green looking fellow over the way. "Well," sed I to meself," I'll go over and see what the blackguard wants wid me." So over I wint and the very first thing was, "Pat, I hev a skanumdrum for ye." "I thought so," sed I to meself; thin sed to him, "Well, what is it thin?" "Tell me, Pat, the difference between yourself and a pig?" "Me boy that is ould," sed I in a whisper; thin I sed to him, "Repeat it." He did. "Look me in the eye,” sed I. "I'm looking," sed he. "Now, ye want to know the difference between me and a pig?" "That's it," sed he. I 1 |