New fears, new dangers doom'd to meet,
For now a close and piercing heat

Relax'd each loofen'd limb;

The sweat roll'd out from every part,

In fhort quick beatings toil'd his heart,
His throbbing eyes grew dim.

For through the wide and wafted land.
A ftream 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 arofe,-
He faw its crystal fides difclofe

Green fields and fhady 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 le, a form of fire!
-"Return !"-the Dæmon faid.

His foul grew fick with deep alarm,
The Fiend reach'd out his burning arm,
And touch'd Sir Ouvain's head.

VOL. M.

M

Sir

Sir Ouvain fhriek'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 faft an agonizing flood
Through limbs like iron red.

The anguish brought a brief defpair,
Then mindful of the aid of pray'r,
He call'd on Christ again;
Inftant the gales of Eden came,

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

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

Free entrance there was giv'n;
And fongs of triumph met his ear,
Enrapt Sir Ouvain feem'd to hear
The harmonies of heav'n.

"Welcome to this, the blefs'd retreat, "Thou who haft pafs'd, with fearless feet,

"St. Patrick's Purgatory;

"For after death these feats divine, "Reward eternal fhall be thine,

"And thine eternal glory.”—

Inebriate

Inebriate with the deep delight,

Dim grew Sir Ouvain's fwimming fight, His fenfes died away;

To life again revived, before

The entrance of the cave once more
He faw the light of day.

M 2

No. LI.

THE CINDER KING.

The following was fent anonymously; the Reader will of courfe obferve, that it is a burlefque imitation of the ballads of the Erl-King," and " the Cloud-King.".

--

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

'Tis Betty; who faw the falfe 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 foil,
And the blue-burning lamp had half wasted its oil,
And the black-beetle boldly came crawling from far,
And the red coals were finking beneath the third bar

;

When

When "one" ftruck the clock--and inftead of the bird

Who used to fing cuckoo whene'er the clock stirr'd,
Out burft a grim raven, and utter'd "caw! caw!"
While pufs, though the 'woke, durft 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 fwallow one up;
With fuel from hell, a ftrange coal-skuttle came,
And a felf-handled poker made fearful the flame.

A cinder fhot from it, of fize to amaze,

(With a bounce, fuch as Betty ne'er heard in her days,) Thrice, ferpent-like, hifs'd, as its heat fled away, And lo! fomething dark in a vast coffin lay.

"Come Betty !"-quoth croaking that non-defeript thing,

Come blefs 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.

My darling! it must be, do make up your mind; "We element brothers, united, and kind,

"Have a feaft and a wedding, each night of our lives, "So conftantly fup on each other's new wives."—

In