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DEATH S DOINGS.

Unnerves the will, and racks the head,And brings the tears into their bed;These are amongst the horrors, thou,Dread Demon, heapest on my brow.

Reader ! these are no fancied woes,For could I to thy view discloseThe visions that torment my sight;Each grinning elf, each grisly sprite,—However strong thy nerves may be,Thou wouldst not mock, but pity me.

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Ah! see you not that monstrous birthEngendered by yon teeming hearth ?Mark that fantastic shapeless frame,All head and legs, with eyes of flame !

My vision reels * *

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Maddening, I to my window crawl,—Alas, alas, discomfort all!

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