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The Insects' Prophecy; or, The Death of King Pa

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The Beater's Song; or, Ting-lang's Search for his

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Oh, what a fearful dream! Thank God I woke !
I thought I was within a noisome tomb immured,
Where all was dark; no sound the silence broke—
Ah, who can tell the terrors I endured!

Too horror-struck to even form a prayer,

I could but writhe upon the ground and scream; Curse my hard fate, give way to wild despair, And, wake at length-to find it all a dream.

I'll call
my maid and bid her strike a light,
For even now I feel oppressed with fear;
How cold I am-I'll sleep no more to night;

I shall feel better when the girl is here.

She does not come! Wherefore this awful gloom ?

Why does my heart thus beat with unknown dread? How came I hither? This is not my room,

It seems but little larger than my bed.

This is not my couch—'tis clammy ground!
Above my head a roof of stone I feel—
Stone, too, on either side-stone all around!
It is a tomb! Great God! my dream is real!

Help! Save me!

A living death!

Let me not die like this—

Will no one heed my cries?

I stagger up, and reach an orifice,

To which I glue my hot and blood-shot eyes.

I never knew how beautiful it was till now,
To watch the rising sun his radiance throw
O'er hill and dale, on every bush and bough—
Tinging all nature with a golden glow.

Help! Hither! Save me! Come and set me free!
My piercing screams attract the passers by ;—
Oh! are you men? Can you look on and see
A girl-a woman-shut up thus to die?

'Tis not the dread of death my heart appalls; It is this lingering, living death I fear,Shut up alive, to die within these walls,

Where every moment lengthens to a year.

Break down these walls! What if my crime was great, Say, could it merit such a death as this!

Kill me at once-if death must be my fate

The hand that strikes the welcome blow, I'll kiss!

Help, I implore you! 'Tis a woman calls!

I'm young and fair! Oh, save me from this death! Oh, snatch me from this tomb, break down these wallsAnd I will bless you with my latest breath!

Help! Give me but my liberty—my life!

Save me from death-from this my living grave! Whoever saves me, I will be his wife

His mistress-leman-minion-menial-slave!

Poor though he be, his poverty I'll share;
The whole devotion of a life I'll give!
I'll toil for him-his troubles I will bear-

I'll beg for him-so he but bids me live!

Help! I am stifling! Oh! for the fresh pure air!— To feel it on my hot and fevered cheeks!

Help! Save me! or my very hands shall tear

These cursed walls! I'll rend them with



Water! One drop, to quench my maddening thirst!
My tongue is swollen-my throat is parched and dry!
Can this be death ?-Father, you've done your worst,
But oh! 'twas hard to doom me thus to die!

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