The pathway to my dwelling thro' the clouds:
My being is the state of those who live

Free from the earth-robe of the grave, which once
Darkened and chained me.

Euc. Spirit of the past,

Breathe yet the tone that triumphs; and oh! tell
Why quittest thou thy starr'd abode, where all
Of life and beauty hath its fount, to walk

Thus on the dust that hath not kindred with thee?
Spirit. To visit thee I come, to gaze and speak,
To hear thy voice, EUCELION!

Euc. Moon-bright shadow,

Call'st thou me hence to live with thee, and such
As wear thy mien, and have thy thoughts, and shine
With all this light that makes me from our world
Shrink, and from all things here-from womankind?
Oh, wilt thou that I follow in thy cloud,

To look on thee for ever?

Spirit. I bear not

So blest a mission from those happier courts
Love-circled, where the stream of faultless song
Flows in its sunny and undying course,
And whence descendeth on thee the desire
Blazing in golden joy upon thine aspect,
The high, the fetterless, and fierce desire,
The impulse of a heart warm with its heaven,
And seeking its own shore of stormless rest.
This love of prouder and more glorious things
Than earthly attributes is young within
Thy breast, amid whose images it grows,
The glowing child of all-pervading sense,
Nursed of the soul in yet its tenderest time,
By thee to be baptiz'd in one sweet flood
Of happiness, like that where angels lave
The limbs that bend before the water's god!
Guard thou, oh! guard this soul-fed spark, and deem
That, star-like, it will guide thee o'er the deep,

And soothe destruction's whirlwind.

Euc. Oh, heart oh, sense! the mastery is your's, I cannot bind ye to me, yet my hands

Shall lift them to thee, creature of the skies,

As if to pray thee but to chase the thrill
Of this too sweet delirium from the veins
That burst beneath the love-draught of thy pres
Spirit. Mark thee, EUCELION, ere the high r
An hour's progress, I will whisper thee
A tale sealed up in silence, but which now
Is spoken in fulfilment of a wish,

A wish my heart once knew, ere its last blood
Was drank by passion's fire. EUCELION, I,
While yet the grave's death-battle was unwon,
Had hoped to meet thee thus, to speak the tale
That died not when the fading world was past.
To breathe these words I visit thee and earth:
Bow not before me; hear, arise, arise!

(A strain of exquisite music is heard, and subdued by its influence, falls at the bas lumn.)

Euc. Speak, lest my list'ning, quiv'ring soul And my crush'd sense but warn thee to thy sphe Oh, partner of the free!

Spirit. Arise, arise!

The hope I formed was traced on glory's page,
The pray'r I raised hath gained me all it sought
And now in lone communion, and beneath
Those watchful beaming planets, I will bare
A past heart's mystery.

Euc. Oh, let the tale,

Voic'd by thy lips be mine, where not an ear
Can snatch away a sound.

Spirit. It tells of one

Who lived with Grecian maids, and lived and lo
Life and its gifts; but when a change had throw
A shade upon her mind, she died away

Swiftly but sweetly, and this mouldering shrine
Formed her chill death-bed, and was dew'd by b
Her last and purest. 'Twas of love she died,
A hidden burning passion, but her cheek
Became not pale; her eye remained undimm'd,
And none perceived that soft declension —Once

A sacrifice on feeling's blotless altar!

EUCELION! thou, with whom I thus commune,
Thou wert the chosen idol of ICYNTHE!

Euc. Ha!

Spirit. Printed on her mind, thy features, form,
And all idea can create, were mingled

E'en with ICYNTHE'S being, and soon that,
Which wakened life, destroyed it; she was thine,
EUCELION, thine in heart-for thee she perished.
Euc. Oh, lovely SPIRIT, tell me, tell me more;
Say, was she beautiful! Oh, if her eyes
Resembled thine in ardour and in light!
Oh, if her hair look'd flowing thus, her face
A glass that shewed the heav'n of purity,
Say, had her breath the charm that rides on thine,
And chains the loose desires of the sense?

Oh! she was perfect, for thy looks have pity.
And hath she perished?

Spirit. She was thine in thought;

Her features were as mine; her form was stamped
Like that on which thou gazest; and her eye
With soul-expression filled for thee, EUCELION!
The moon hath gained a station in the sky,
That silent tells our parting time-farewell!
Beneath the shadow of yon cypress branch,
Upon a sculptured stone, lies the sole token
ICYNTHE'S love bequeath'd its living object;
Be it thine own-remove the silver'd leaves
That screen it from thee.

(EUCELION obeys, and discovers upon a fragment of
the building a resemblance of himself.)

Spirit. "Twas ICYNTHE'S pencil

Marked out thy features, and ICYNTHE's heart
That lent the copy it had snatched from thee
In the first moment of affection. Here,
In this still solitude, she gave an hour
Of each congenial sunset to disclose
The fervor of her fond devotion-then,

Then when the latest touch had thrown upon
The picture thine own semblance, she concealed

U

The offering there, and sought the icy shrine,

Whose bosom quenched the burning brain that pressed it!
Euc. Stay yet, oh, pity-burthened SPIRIT! back
With this intrusive mist that grows towards thee.
Thou wilt not shrink?-Oh, say not 'tis a scene
Imagination conjures, lest my eyes

Be sightless with the sound.

Spirit. Farewell! no more

My feet may pace the earth of which they are not.
ICYNTHE'S love is spoken, and her spirit
Waits for EUCELION!

Euc. Oh, stay, ICYNTHE!

Ah, will she not unfold her form, and light
The deep hereafter that hath risen now?
Give but a word-

Spirit. "Tis past, ICYNTHE rests;

In life she saw thee once, and once in death!
Farewell.

Euc. And once in death! Oh, speak again,
Thou art ICYNTHE!

Spirit. EUCELION!

(Solemn music-the SPIRIT gradually disappears, and "EUCELION" is twice pronounced in low accents. He bends upon one knee, and then endeavouring to call upon the name of ICYNTHE falls senseless.) May 10, 1823.

I think your readers will derive some amusement from the following extract from a curious old pamphlet, which lately fell into my hands among some old books; it is clearly the origin of one of the most popular, and de

servedly so, entertainments at our theatres, which has kept its station in public favour for many years-" No Song no Supper." I shall not give it more preface than by saying, that "The History of the famous Friar BACON, containing the wonderful things he did in his life," furnishes the extract I have given below.

London, April 6, 1820

I am, &c.

T. W.

How MILES, Friar BACON's Man, conjured for Meat, and got some for himself and his Host.

MILES chanced one day upon some business to go about six miles from home, and being loath to part with some company which he had, he was belated, and could get but half way home that night. To save his purse, he went to the house of an acquaintance of his master; but, when he arrived, the good man of the house was not at home, and the woman refused to give him a lodging. MILES seeing such cold entertainment, wished that he had not troubled her; but, being now there, he was unwilling to go any further, and therefore endeavoured to persuade her to give him a lodging for that night. She told him, she would willingly do it if her husband were at home, but he being out of town, it would not be very creditable to her to lodge any man. "You need not mistrust me," said MILES; "lock me in any place where there is a bed, and I will not trouble you till I rise to-morrow morning." The woman, fearing that her husband would be angry if she denied so trifling a request to one of his friends, consented that he should remain there, if he would be locked up. MILES was contented, and presently went to bed; when he heard the door open, upon which he rose, and peeped through a chink of the partition, and saw an old man come in this man put down a basket which he had on his arm, and kissed the woman of the house three or four times. He then undid the basket, and pulled out of it a fat capon ready roasted, some bread, and a bottle of good old sack; these he gave to her, saying, "Sweetheart, hearing thy husband was out of town, I am come to visit thee; I am not come empty handed, but have brought something to be