POETRY.
ECTITANASY.
Pnixce Azesre, wan Azrael, The ghastly Cavalier, To view this battle-field of earth On his pale horse drew near.
Ah! never since our world had birth More terrible his spear!
Amid the dying and the dead His path has :Away lain; Then wherefore cloth be wail his bead Before these newly slain?
It cannot be that Angel dread Is touched by human pain!
" Naught ever saw I like to this," The bloodless horseman cried, " No hero death-bed like to this In all my age-long ride; Oh! never men so died, I wis, Since men have lived and died.
All shrank from me, all fled from me, Save wretches in despair; I followed with a hunter's glee Or slew them unaware; But these! They smile and run to me, As though my face were fair."
He turned him to a new-born ghost, " What miracle is here, That I, whom men have feared the most, From thee should'have no fear?
For youth was thine, and well thou know'st How life in youth is dear."
"Yea! dear was life, thou bitter king," The proud glad ghost replied,
" We perished in our morn of spring, Youth's garland cast aside; But there was yet a dearer thing,
'Twas that for which we died." R. H. LAW.
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