The Old Decanter

There was an oíd decanter, and lts moiith was raptng widci ; the rosy winc had ebbcd away and Icii its crytiiJ stúc; ttq the wind went Iminining, liumiiiin ; Dp and i' uu the it lleW, and through the reed-like, hollow neck the wiMesi notes it blew. I placed it in the window, where the blast was biowiug Irce, mul fmcied that its palo mouthsaiitf thequeereststrains to me. '¦ Thcy teil me - puny conquerors Í- the Plague has slain Mis ten, and War lus liuudred Üiousauds oi the very best of men; but In- tvas thus the bottle i,poke- -but I have conqurad more than all your fanious conque re rs, so feared and lamed of yore. i'hen come, ye youths and maidens, come drink from out my cup, the bevtrage that dulls tlie brain and burns the spirit up; that puts to shame the conquerors thut slay their COrei below, for this has delü( 1 millicms wit li the lava tide of woc. Though in the ptitb of battle, tlarkest waves of blood may roll, yet white I killed the body 1 have d:unned the very soul. '1 he cholera, the ¦word, such rain never wrought, s I, in mirth or ma! ui., on the innocent have brouulit, And still 1 breathe pon thtm, and they shrink bcí ore my breath; and year by year my thousaeds "tread THE TKKRIItLK HOAD TO DEA III.