haunts my restless dreams,
    Disturbed by those heart-rending screams.
    Aha! she cried, and down the glen
    She madly took her way again.

    Through shadowy vale, o'er shaggy hill
    Young Janet wanders frantic still,
    Watched and sustained from year to year
    By pity of the mountaineer,
    Who knows the story of her woe,
    And curses deep her kindred's foe;
    And on from year to year the same
    She wildly calls on Ronald's name.

A Parody

Once upon a midnight dreary, as I sauntered weak and weary
    From a jovial fellow-student's room upon another floor;
As I sauntered, sadder, sicker, suddenly I heard a snicker,
    And the lights began to flicker, and right out went three or four.
"Some infernal trick!" I muttered, as I neared my chamber door;
                "I won't stand this any more."

Ah! distinctly I remember, it was in my first September,
    And each night-attired member fled like ghost upon the floor.
Lamp I vainly sought to borrow, though I threatened on the morrow
    They would catch it to their sorrow, they would catch it sad and sore—
I would have them on the morrow the dread Faculty before—
                Fearful here for evermore.

And the hushed and humorous talking, and the doors' successive locking
Filled me—thrilled me with fantastic terrors often felt before;
So that now to still the beating of my heart I stood repeating
"'Tis some prank they are repeating that they played the night before,
"Sewn, perchance, my couch's covering, firmly fixed my chamber door,
                "Effigy upon my floor."

Then toward my chamber turning, for my wonted slumber yearning,
Straightway I could hear them laughing somewhat louder than before;
"Surely," said I, "surely that is ominous, foreboding that is,
"Let me see, then, what the rat is, and this mystery explore—
"I'll discover what the rat is, and this mystery explore;
                "For methinks 'tis something more."

Open then I flung the portal, and—oh! miserable mortal!
Down there fell a pan of water in a most tremendous pour;
Not the least cessation made it, not a second stopped or stayed it;
But before I could evade it, down it fell from off the door—
Fell,—and with its icy current chilled me to the very core;
                This there was, what could be more?

Deep into the darkness staring, long I stood there thundering, tearing;
Shouting, threatening threats no mortal ever dared to threat before;
And my face was wild and ashen, and to aggravate my passion,
Each, in an insulting fashion, thrust his head from out his door;
And the worst of all the wretches met me with a mocking roar,
                Asking,—Had I got to shore?

Instantly my speech grew stronger; I could stand it now no longer;
"Cur," said I, "or madman, my forgiveness now implore,
"For my patience now is sapping, and the truth is this is capping
"What too often has been happing, what in future shall be o'er,
"Now most humbly my forgiveness I demand that you implore.
                But he answered, "Nevermore."

And the wretches, unremitting, still are sitting, still are sitting—
Sitting each successive session on the freshmen as of yore:
Who, with burning indignation, and with angry imprecation,
Undergo initiation to this school of modern lore,
And the rackets now resounding through this school of life; and lore
                Shall be silenced—nevermore.

Tomakewaw,—A Parody.

"Give me of your fruit, banana!
Of your yellow fruit, banana!
Growing on the tropic islands,
Fertile islands in the ocean;
I a little trick will play me,
Play it on the darkened staircase,
Where no light has late been burning,
Where the students walk in darkness,
Walk on foot, perchance on shin-bones!"
"Lay aside your fruit, banana!
Quickly lay your fruit aside you,
For the eventime is coming,
When the stairs are wrapt in darkness;
And I've yet to waft me distant,
Many leagues o'er land and ocean,
To a famous school of learning,
In the land of the pale faces,
In the city of the mountain!"
    Thus aloud cried Tomakewaw,
Chief of all the imps of darkness,
On an island in the ocean,
In the wide Pacific Ocean.
And the tall tree shook its branches,
Shook with mirth its ladened branches,
Saying with a burst of laughter,
"Take my fruit, O Tomakewaw!"
    Then its fruit he picked with gladness,
Gathered it with exultation,
Sped across the wide Pacific,
Over mountain, over prairie,
To the shores of the great river,
To the banks of the St. Lawrence,
To the city of the mountain.
Here within the school of learning,
Sought he out a student's chamber,
Where he peeled the fruit delicious,
Cleft the yellow rind asunder,
Ate the fruit—but saved the peeling.
And he then with quiet movements,
Took up the banana peeling,
Issued out into the darkness,
Noiseless glided through the passage,
Till he reached the darkened staircase,
Where, upon the topmost step he
Placed with care the oily peeling,
Placed the smooth banana peeling.
Later on we have "The Sailing."

The Principal's Ash-Barrel.

In a notable college the story is told—
'Twill bear repetition, although somewhat old—
That, at some unauthenticate date in the past
(I think 'twas the month or the year before last),
The Principal brought a complaint 'gainst the Steward
Concerning a matter he long had endured:
He deposed that the former—the cause of the quarrel—
Had neglected to see to his scavenger-barrel,
And requested the Faculty grave and sedate
To sit and consider the point in debate,
Which this reverend body would straightway have done
Had not a professor objection begun
By insisting that such an undignified act
To the Faculty was not becoming, in fact,
That he, for his part, refused to comply
With the purpose the Principal wished to apply,
Considering it 'neath both his place and apparel
To sit upon anyone's scavenger-barrel.