admiration and amazement.
Free as air, ye sons of immortal sires,
Hold these crags, defiant still,
As eagles in their onward sweep--
Citizens of destiny,
Entertainment awaits your advent,
Even beneath yon columned capitol!
The emperors, pampered in power
Were subject to some human laws,
But you, great, wonderful chief,
Roderick, the Terrible, and fierce
Soar superior over all, bloody villain,
Force with gold and silver alone--
Dictating thy generous onslaughts!
Caesar, Pompey and Scipio
Could not compete with thy valor;
Only Nero, paragon of infamy,
Could match the renown of Roderick,
Thy fame, great chief, boundless as the globe!
Italy, Spain, France and England
Pay constant tribute to thy purse,
Travelers and pilgrims, seeking glory
By kissing the pope's big toe
Drop their golden coin and jewels
Into thy pockets capacious,
Hear me, ye sprites of Apennine,
And the ghouls of murdered travelers
Let the circumambient air
Ring with universal cheers
For Roderick, the glory of Robbers,
And the terror of mankind._
(Whirlwind of cheers.)

At the conclusion of William's apostrophe to the prince of robbers, Tamora,
the fair queen, jabbed me with a poniard and ordered me to sing.

I mounted the platform rock, overlooking the horrible vale below, and sang
in my sweetest strain "Black Eyed Susan," gesticulating at the conclusion
of each verse in the direction of the queen, who seemed to be charmed with
my voice and audacity.

An encore was demanded with a yell of delight, and I forthwith sang the new
song "America," which was cheered to the echo--and as they still insisted
that I "go on," "go on," I rendered in my best voice the recent composition
of "Hiawatha."

The robber band yelled like wild Indians, and the fair queen took me to her
pine bower and fondled me into the realm of dreams, although I could see
that Roderick was disposed to throw me on the rocks below--but, the "madam"
was "boss" of that mountain ranch and gave orders with her poniard.

As the earliest beams of morning lit up the crests of the Apennines we fed
on a roast of roe buck and quail, and barley bread washed down by goblets
of Falernian wine that had been captured the day before from a pleasure
party from Brindisi.

The goblets we drank from were skulls of former citizens of the world, who
attemp