a's page alighted, lo!
The missive lay. They hasten back with speed;
And as they give God thanks, more eyes than one o'erflowed.

Another Dungeon Tenant.

"We e'en must quit, dear Mike, thy safe retreat;
'Tis clear, they're on our track.
Of this be sure,
That you henceforth in life shall nothing lack
That heart can wish or wealth of mine procure.
Swift send to Wynnwood Hall, a trusty man and fleet!"

"I'll go myself, Sir knight," old Michael said;
"For Eric here must stay
And hide awhile.
You'll see me back again by break of day;
With talk and sleep you can the hours beguile;
But one at least much [Transcriber's note: must?] watch,
for mischief broods o'erhead!"

When Mike returned, his den indeed was there
But tenants only one
Who bound him fast
And bade him take his leave of yonder sun,
For sure enough this look would be his last;
In Ragnor's gloomy vaults he'd find nor light nor air.

Nemesis.

Sir Guy's dire act of awful vengeance ta'en
A ravenous brood of prey,
To make their nest,
Seemed gnawing at his heart-strings night and day;
With croaks like drowning cries they filled his breast
And raised with fluttering wing the ghosts of those he'd slain.

No dove of peace on wings of morn returned.
He watched with eager eyes
Day's amber birth
And saw, or thought he saw, a form arise;
'Twas his--Sir Harold's--just as when on earth
He came to plead his suit and was with insult spurned.

"O God, have mercy! Grant it may be true
That he indeed doth live!
Oh! warders, fly,
Proclaim--a thousand livres I will give
To know the Knight of Wynnwood did not die
In that night's fearful wreck. If found, I'll make it two!"

The Demon Exorcised.

As beasts and lands welcome the rain they craved
And ope their parch-ed lips
To drink their fill;
So felt Sir Guy the demons loose their grips,
As warders, one by one, the news distil,
To quench their hell-lit fires--'that all on board were saved'!

Like savage beasts when bite and roar grow weak,
Seek out some lonely nook
Wherein to die;
So now Sir Guy, whose thunderous voice once shook
Old Ragnor's walls and made the bravest fly,
Would feebly cry: "My child!" then, death-like, swoon away.

Full ten days passed ere conscio