I saw old Cecrops' town and famous Rome; It was a goodly city, fair to see; By its proud walls and tottering mosques it gave A delicate aspect to the country, With its bridge of boats across the Danube's wave. Yet many things with woe I did survey; The streets were overgrown with spiry grass; And, though it was upon a sabbath-day, No bells did ring to call the folks to mass. The churchyards all with bars were closed fast, It shew'd as though the judgment-day was past, At last I met an sad old man, and asked Where a tired traveller might find repose. The old man shook his head, and would have passed; "Stranger," said he, "in Mary's name depart!" Yet I would not let him go, but asked why? "It now is morn," quoth he, "the sun shines bright, And the spring is blithe, save in the walls of Pest; But, were it winter wild, and a stormy night, Not here, oh stranger, shouldst thou seek to rest. Though rain in torrents poured, and cold wind blew, This woeful wight then took me by the hand: (His, like a skeleton's, was bony and cold.) He seemed as though he could scarce go or stand, We came together to the market-cross, And the wight all woe-begone spake not a word, No living things along our way did pass, Though dol'rous groans in every house I heard. Save one poor dog that walked athwart a court, The sad man whistled in a dismal sort, And the poor thing slunk away, and hid his tail. I felt my very blood creep in my veins; Yet could but that sad old man attend. The sad old man sat down upon a stone, Stranger!" quoth he, "behold my visage well, Stranger! not forty years ago I lay A puling infant in my nurse's arms : Not forty days ago two daughters gay Did bless my vision with their dawning charms. "Yet now I am an old and worn-out man, And every drop of blood hath left my veins; Also my daughters twain lie cold and wan And bloodless, bound in death's eternal chains. Stranger! this town, so pleasant to our sights, "But now the very few that here remain "Seven weeks are gone since our townsfolks began To wax both pale and sad, yet none knew why: The ruddiest visage yellow seemed and wan, Our stoutest youths for very cold did cry. "Some doctors said the lakes did agues breed ; But spring returning would the same disperse, While others, contrary to nature's creed, Aver'd the heat itself would make us worse. "And though we laugh'd at these, like doaters fond, "One miserable wight did pine and wane, "Nathless, our people, though they pined and pined, Yet never did our appetites decay; Whole oxen scarce sufficed when we dined, "Some hundreds every day gave up the ghost, Our beasts we kill'd and ate, but never bled. "Thus, by the eve, our colour fresh arose, Who long had dwelt at Pest in honest pride; And since some twelvemonths of a fever died. My youngest daughter was afflicted sore. And she, poor maid, full loud 'gan say her prayers. Shrouded he was, as when his corse was laid Under the earth, and burial service read; Nor yet was he a ghost, for his footsteps made A noise more heavy than a ton of lead. "She saw him ope my daughter's chamber door, And had no spirit to pursue or fly, And Vulvius again, in half an hour, Lumbered down stairs yet much more heavily. "This story heard, I could not chuse but smile "When as the midnight-hour was past, I heard "Next day unto a convent nigh I hied, And begged his ghostly counsel I may share. Together to Saint Stephen's church we went And he a prayer on every gravestone made, Till at the tailor Vulvius' monument We stopped-we brought a mattock and a spade. "We dug the earth wherein the tailor lay; Till at the tailor's coffin we arrived, Nor there, I ween, much labour found that day, For every nail was drawn and the hinges rived. "This sight was strange-but stranger yet remained When from the corse the cered clothes we tore; The veins seemed full of blood, the lips distained, All dripping with my daughter's new-suck'd gore. "When through our town this sight we had proclaimed, A dismal horror chilled our townsmen's hearts; The VAMPIRE (so our priest the tailor nam'd) Their midnight sleep disturbed with feverish starts. "The churchyards straight were ransacked all throughout With pickaxe, shovel, mattock, and with spade; But every corse that we did dig thereont Did shew like living men in coffins laid. "It was the corses that our churchyards fill'd "And now the priest burn'd incense in the choir, And purified the church with lustral fire, And cast all things profane in Danube's waves. "And they barr'd with iron bolts the churchyard-pale THE PIRATE'S TREASURE. boy was mortal afraid to venture; but the captain swore he would make him, and in his passion took him a rap with the iron-rod, and killed him. When he saw what he had done, he lifted, and hove him over the side; and many a long day the men wondered what had become of little Bill, for they were all below at dinner, and none but myself saw the transaction. It was needless for me to complain, and get him overhauled, as there were no witnesses; but I left the ship, and births would be scarce before I would sail with him again." AFTER many months of anxious and painful expectancy, I at length succeeded in obtaining my appointment to the situation I had so ardently wished for. Despairing at my apparent want of success, I had given up all hopes, and had engaged to go as surgeon in the Clydesdale to the East Indies, when the favourable result of my friend's exertions changed the aspect of my affairs. My instructions set forth the necessity of my being at Surinam by a certain day, otherwise I should be too late to join the corps to which I was appointed, which, on the ceding up of the place to the Dutch, was to proceed to Canada. As it wanted only two months of that period, it became necessary to inquire for some vessel without loss of time. Giving up my engagement with the Clydesdale, I proceeded to the harbour, and after a toilsome search, succeeded in discovering a ship chartered by a Glasgow company lying ready at the west quay, and to sail with that evening's tide. While I stood examining the vessel from the pier, two sailors, who seemed to be roaming idly about, stopped, and began to converse by my side. "Has the old Dart got all her hands, Tom!" said the one," that she has her ensign up for sailing? They say she is sold to the lubberly Dutchmen now what cheer to lend her a hand out, and get our sailing-penny for a glass of grog?" "No, no; bad cheer!" replied the other; "mayhap I didn't tell you that I made a trip in her four years ago; and a cleaner or livelier thing is not on the water! But there is a limb of the big devil in her that is enough to cause her to sink to the bottom. It was in our voyage that he did for Bill Burnet with the pump sounding- For four weeks we had a quick and rod, because the little fellow snivelled pleasant passage. The Dart did not a bit, and was not handy to jump when belie her name; for, being Americanhe was ordered aloft to set the fore-roy-built, and originally a privateer, she al. It was his first voyage, and the sailed uncommonly fast, generally run Knowing what tyrants shipmasters are in general, and how much their pas sengers comfort depends on them, I was somewhat startled by this piece of information respecting the temper_of the man I purposed to sail with. But necessity has no law! The circumstance was probably much misrepresent→ ed, and, from a simple act of discipline, exaggerated to an act of wanton cruelty. But be that as it might-my affairs were urgent. There was no other vessel for the same port-I must either take my passage, or run the risk of being superseded. The thing was not to be thought of; so I went and secured my birth. As my preparations were few and trifling, I had every thing arranged, and on board, just as the vessel was unmooring from the quay. During the night we got down to the Clock light-house, and stood off and on, waiting for the captain, who had remained behind to get the ship cleared out at the Customhouse. Soon afterwards he joined us, and the pilot leaving us in the returnboat, we stood down the Forth under all our canvass. |