"I took the dreary body up,
And cast it in a stream-
A sluggish water, black as ink,
The depth was so extreme.
My gentle boy, remember this
Is nothing but a dream!

"Down went the corse with a hollow plunge,

And vanished in the pool;

Anon I cleansed my bloody hands

And washed my forehead cool, And sat among the urchins young, That evening in the school!

"O Heaven, to think of their white souls, And mine so black and grim!

I could not share in childish prayer,

Nor join in evening hymn:

Like a devil of the pit I seemed,

'Mid holy cherubim!

"And Peace went with them one and all,

And each calm pillow spread: But Guilt was my grim chamberlain That lighted me to bed,

And drew my midnight curtains round,

With fingers bloody red!

"All night I lay in agony,
From weary chime to chime,
With one besetting, horrid hint,
That racked me all the time-
A mighty yearning, like the first
Fierce impulse unto crime!

"One stern, tyrannic thought, that made
All other thoughts its slave;
Stronger and stronger every pulse

Did that temptation crave—
Still urging me to go and see
The dead man in his grave!

'Heavily I rose up as soon
As light was in the sky-
And sought the black, accursèd pool
With a wild, misgiving eye;
And I saw the dead in the river-bed,
For the faithless stream was dry.

"Merrily rose the lark, and shook
The dew-drop from its wing:
But I never marked its morning flight,

I never heard it sing:

For I was stooping once again

Under the horrid thing.

"With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,

I took him up and ran—

There was no time to dig a grave

Before the day began:

In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,

I hid the murdered man!

"And all that day I read in school,

But my thought was otherwhere:
As soon as the mid-day task was done,
In secret I was there:

And a mighty wind had swept the leaves,
And still the corse was bare!

"Then down I cast me on my face,
And first began to weep,

For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refused to keep;

Or land or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms deep!

O 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 kissed,

Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,

Through the cold and heavy mist;

And Eugene Aram walked between,

With gyves upon his wrist.

THE SONG OF THE SHIRT.

ITH fingers weary and worn,

WITH

With eyelids heavy and red,

A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,`
Plying her needle and thread-

Stitch stitch! stitch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt;

And still, with a voice of dolorous pitch, She sang the "Song of the Shirt:"

"Work! work! work!

While the cock is crowing aloof! And work-work-work,

Till the stars shine through the roof!

It's oh! to be a slave

Along with the barbarous Turk,

Where woman has never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work! ·

"Work-work-work,

Till the brain begins to swim! Work-work-work,

Till the eyes are heavy and dim!

Seam, and gusset, and band,

Band, and gusset, and seamTill over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream!

"O Men, with sisters dear!

O Men, with mothers and wives! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives!

Stitch-stitch-stitch,

In poverty, hunger, and dirt

Sewing at once, with a double thread,
A shroud as well as a Shirt!

Because of the fasts I keep;

O God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!

66 'Work-work-work!

My labour never flags;

And what are its wages? A bed of straw,

A crust of bread-and rags!

That shattered roof-and this naked floor

A table-a broken chair-

And a wall so blank my shadow I thank

For sometimes falling there!

and gusset, and seam,

Seam, and gusset, and band

Till the heart is sick and the brain benumbed,

As well as the weary hand.

"Work-work-work,

In the dull December light!