And years have rotted off his flesh--
The world shall see his bones!

"Oh God, that horrid, horrid dream
Besets me now awake!
Again--again, with a dizzy brain,
The human life I take;
And my red right hand grows raging hot,
Like Cranmer's at the stake.

"And still no peace for the restless clay
Will wave or mould allow;
The horrid thing pursues my soul,--
It stands before me now!"
The fearful boy looked up, and saw
Huge drops upon his brow!

That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin eyelids kiss'd,
Two stern-fac'd men set out from Lynn,
Through the cold and heavy mist;
And Eugene Aram walked between,
With gyves upon his wrist.


Mr. Planché's versification of the homely proverb--Poverty parts good
company--will create many good-natured smiles, and run counter with Mr.
Kenney's To-morrow. Some of the minor pieces are very pleasing,
especially two by Hartley Coleridge, Esq.