Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/556

 540 JOHN G. DUNN, [1850-eO. Where poisoned beasts have met in deadly fray. Arouse thee, man of wealth ! oh, count no more Those golden pieces ! Thou art most un- wise ; Another year may scatter all thy hoard. Know'st not thy son's a gambler ? Up yonder lane, in house of ill-repute. His squandering fingers have unloosed thy purse. His drunken curse is loud — his eye is wild, And knowing fiends stir up his appetite With Death's strong waters. Rouse ! oh, rouse thee then ! The earth yawns for him ! Aye, for many more. Proud Intellect is struck with lunacy ; Youth falls in death ; and tottering Old Age, Bereft of veneration, curses life. Pale Misery stalks where Fortune should have dwelt ; While Shame crowds Virtue from the street, and Death, With many a hellish minion at his back. Lurks in each den, and clutches at the throng. Awake ye, all who love your fellow-man, And, with a swift, determined vengeance, sweep This stain of murder from our noble land ! SPIRIT OF EARTHQUAKE. 'TwAS the noon of a winter night, dreary and dark ; The winds were bewailing the dead ; In icy cold fetters the forest was stark, And the Torrent was chained in his bed. High o'er the wild ravines, 'mid snow- mantled pines, A Brigand looked forth from his lair ; But naught met his gaze, save the sky- cutting lines Of the turreted crags in the air. That day he had battled ! That day he had slain ! And the crimson was still on his hand ; But afar he had left, on the desolate plain, The bravest and best of his band. He startled ! A sound swept up from the gorge— A voice like a spirit in wail ! Still nearer and hoarser through ravine and rock It swept on the sorrowing gale ! The pines were alive with a sorrow of moans. And the Owl from his ragged home screamed ; The night far beneath him was peopled with groans. Like the depths of a horrible dream. Huge clouds swept the mount with their billows of black, Enshrouding his lair in their night ; And the wind kept howling through crev- ice and crack. Like a spirit of murder and bhght. But these he had heard, and these he had seen. And his steely soul heeded them not ; But, oh ! that death-tone, with its wailings all keen, A chill to his stern spirit brought. Dark, wizard-like shapes, from the night- vapors scowled ; Strange outlines Avhirled up the wild mass ; Still louder the fearful winds gibbered and howled New sorrows through cavern and pa>s ;