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Stand on two legs strong and tight, Sir,

Head and hands are easily got; Now thou'rt ready-off like light, Sir, Scamper with the water-pot!

Scamper! Scamper !
Fast and faster,
For thy master,

Till there goeth
Such a tide as naught can hamper,
And the bath-tub overfloweth.

See! how down the bank he's springing,

Quickly he has reached the stream; Back, the flashing water bringing,

Comes he like the lightning's beam! Yet a second trip-how steady

In the bath the water grows !
How the rising wave already
Every trough and tub o'erflows!

Tarry! Tarry!
We have got here
Of cold water

Half the river !
Ah, I see it! Holy Mary!
I have lost the word forever!

Oh! the word to make him tarry,

And his former shape restore! How he loves to run and carry !

Were he but a Broom once more! Torrents new and never ceasing

Still he hastes to bring and pour ; Countless billows, still increasing, Round and o'er me rush and roar!

No, no longer
This shall please him,
I will seize him,

Stop this gaming!
Oh! what terrors new and stronger-
Fiendish face and eyes all flaming!

Oh! thou offspring of a devil !

Shall the entire house be drowned? See! the wave mounts o'er the level

Of the sills, and sweeps around. Broom, forever cursed and hateful,

Deaf to every just request,
Stupid stick of wood ungrateful,
Stand an instant still and rest!

Never, never
Will he stay him!
Then I'll lay him
Flat and flatter!

And with this sharp axe I'll sever
His old head, and end the matter!

See! he comes more full than ever!

"Tis the instant to pursue himNow, oh goblin, down forever;

Crashing goes the sharp edge through him. Bravely done! one fair feat over!

See! his body's split in twain !
Now once more my hopes recover,
And I freely breathe again.

Storm and thunder!
Fragments parted,
Both have started

Slave-like driven,
Sound and swift, oh hopeless blunder!
Help me! all ye powers of heaven!

How they run! now faster, hotter,

Through the halls, and down the stairs. What an everlasting water!

Lord and master! hear my prayers ! Ah! he comes to stay the evil

Master, awful is the need! Easy 'tis to raise the devil,

But a harder task to lead !

6 Besom! Besom!
To thy corner,
And thy former

Shape be taken;
For a sprite so fierce and gleesome,
Only Masters should awaken.”
1846.

SCHILLER.

HONOUR TO WOMAN.

Honour to woman! She twineth the flowers
Of heaven itself, round this dull life of ours,

And weaveth in beauty love's exquisite band ; And veiling her charms, with a deathless devotion, She feedeth the flame of each sacred emotion,

With heart ever faithful, and holiest hand.

Ever from truth's boundaries breaking,

Man's rude strength delights to sweep;
Restless thoughts their dim flight taking

Into passion's stormy deep.
Ever at the distant grasping,

On his heart no Sabbath beams,
'Mid the starry circles clasping

The fair image of his dreams.

But with the enchantment of magical glances,
Woman, the fugitive, homeward entrances,

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