And as she went, she sang aloud a melancholy strain; "And who would wish to die," she said, "though death be free from pain?" ZAIDA'S CURSE And Zaida Cegri, desolate, Whom by the cruel cast of fate, Within one hour, the brandished blade From wife had mourning widow made, On Albenzaide's corse was bowed, Shedding hot tears, with weeping loud.

With veilèd eyes, 'Mid listening Echoes, in her paradise 5 She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath, Rekindled all the fading melodies With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of Death.

And well it was that, of the corse there found, In converse that ensued she nothing spake; She knew not what dire pangs in him such tale could wake.

The corse interred, not one hour he remained 645 Beneath their roof, but to the open air A burthen, now with fortitude sustained, He bore within a breast where dreadful quiet reigned.

They hung not:no one on his form or face 660 Could gaze, as on a show by idlers sought; No kindred sufferer, to his death-place brought By lawless curiosity or chance, When into storm the evening sky is wrought, Upon his swinging corse an eye can glance, 665 And drop, as he once dropped, in miserable trance.

After him came Zúára himself: Who galloped to the charge incensed, and, high Lifting his iron mace, upon the head Of bold Núsháwer struck a furious blow, Which drove him from his steed a lifeless corse.

Ascending then the mountain, many a ridge, Oft resting on the way, he reached the summit, Where the dead corse of an old saint appeared Wrapt in his grave-clothes, and in gems imbedded.

and by his silent corse, And with a broken heart,I pray that you Will grant me pardon, though you cast me off.

Mr. Corse Payton is going to make his summer home out there, and if he is within a radius of ten miles I know we are slated for the one grand time.

Anno 1550 an advocate of Paris fell into such a melancholy fit, that he believed verily he was dead, he could not be persuaded otherwise, or to eat or drink, till a kinsman of his, a scholar of Bourges, did eat before him dressed like a corse.

XI. Swiftly rose they, and the corse surrounded, Spreading out a pall into the air; And the sharp and sudden crackling sounded Mournfully to all the watchers there.

He feels within his shiv'ring veins, A mortal chillness rise; Her pallid corse he feebly strains

"From wave to wave, o'er the bitter waters, Like a corse thrown to the seas, In dreams am I borne onward To the feet of her that's dear, From wave to wave, o'er the bitter waters.

Where be the tears, The sobs, and forc'd suspensions of the breath, And all the dull desertions of the heart, With which I hung o'er my dead mother's corse?

A CORSE OPERA OMNIA.

Should I slander you?' Slowly the cowering corse reared up its head, 'Nay, I am vile ... but when for all to see, You stand there, pure and painlessdeath of life!

And with an awful cry, the corse Sprang on the sacred tomb of many tales, And stone and bone, locked in a loathsome strife, Swayed to the singing of the nightingales.

Then one was thrown: and where the statue stood Under the canopy, above the lawn, The corse stood; grey and lean, with lifted hands Raised in tremendous welcome to the dawn.

There where yonder marge impendeth O'er a streamlet that swift-flying Carries with it the white freshness Of the snows that from the mountains Ever in its waves are melted, Stands almost a skeleton; The sole difference it presenteth To the tree-trunks near it is, That it moves as well as trembles, Slow and gaunt, a living corse.

'T is to ask, what now I ask thee, Of the rocks that in this desert Gape for ever open wide In eternal yawns incessant, Which is the rough marble tomb Of a living corse interred here? Which of these dark caves is that In whose gloom Carpophorus dwelleth?

Substituted, I repeat, For my son a slave, whose strangled, Headless corse thus paid the debt Which from me were else exacted.

And if so, then Rome will see Such examples made, such torments, That one bleeding corse will show Wounds enough for myriad corses.

Therefore on this dear one dead, On this pallid corse laid low, Lying bathed in blood and snow, By this lifeless lodestone led, I such bitter tears shall shed, That my grief . . .

Hide the corse. ESCARPIN. Leave that to me (The head and body are concealed).

And suppose you fell instead of your adversary, in the meeting you would seekwhat, think you, would be the emotions of all those who so dearly love you, when they gazed on your bleeding corse, and remembered you had sought death in defiance of every principle they had so carefully instilled?