Down deep in the hollow, from morning till VERSIFIED FROM THOLUCK'S TRANSLATION OUT OF THE night, Dun shadows glide over the ground, PERSIAN. IN heavy sleep the Caliph lay, Where a watercourse once, as it sparkled with When some one called, "Arise, and pray!" light, Turned a ruined old mill-wheel around: Long years have passed by since its bed became dry, And the trees grow so close, scarce a glimpse of the sky Is seen in the hollow, so dark and so damp, Where the glow-worm at noonday is trimming his lamp, And hardly a sound from the thicket around, Where the rabbit and squirrel leap over the ground, Is heard by the toad in his spacious abode Down deep in that hollow the bees never come, Lies amid the rank grass, half asleep, half awake; And the ashen-white snail, with the slime in its trail, Moves wearily on like a life's tedious tale, Yet disturbs not the toad in his spacious abode, In the innermost heart of that flinty old stone, By the gray-haired moss and the lichen o'ergrown. Down deep in a hollow some wiseacres sit, Like a toad in his cell in the stone; Around them in daylight the blind owlets flit, And their creeds are with ivy o'ergrown ;Their streams may go dry, and the wheels cease to ply, And their glimpses be few of the sun and the sky, Still they hug to their breast every time-hon ored guest, The angry Caliph cried, "Who dare Then, from the corner of the room, "My name is Satan. Rise! obey Mohammed's law; awake, and pray!" OUR revels now are ended. These our actors, SHAKESPEARE POEMS OF TRAGEDY. THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. [James Graham, Marquis of Montrose, was executed in Edin. burgh, May 21, 1650, for an attempt to overthrow the Commonwealth, and restore Charles II.] THE morning dawned full darkly, The rain came flashing down, The thunder crashed across the heaven, There was madness on the earth below And young and old, and rich and poor, Ah God! that ghastly gibbet! Hark! hark! it is the clash of arms, "He is coming! he is coming! God's mercy on his soul!" One last long peal of thunder, The clouds are cleared away, And the glorious sun once more looks down Amidst the dazzling day. "He is coming! he is coming!" Like a bridegroom from his room Came the hero from his prison To the scaffold and the doom. There was glory on his forehead, There was luster in his eye, And he never walked to battle More proudly than to die. There was color in his visage, Though the cheeks of all were wan; And they marveled as they saw him pass, That great and goodly man! He mounted up the scaffold, And he turned him to the crowd; But they dared not trust the people, |