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THE
VILLAGE PESTILENCE.
The ev'ning Sun o'er Arran’s lofty brow,
Serenely smiling, bade our world good night;
To many ’twas a last farewell—yea, ev’n
To some, whose vivid hearts, unhing’d from thought,
Seem'd flush’d and dancing with the cup of life.
The village-bell had clos’d the hours of toil,
Mechanics met, and stood in little groups
About the public corners of the town,
And laugh'd and spake of all the floating news,
Or mutter'd rude remarks on lively nymphs
Whom pride or business hurried o’er the street.
Uncomely tales of riots at the Fair,
Or ball-room broils, or tipsy lewdness, fell
Midst vulgar laughter on the listner's ear.
A few whose thirst had scarcely ceased to crave,
Slunk to the ale-house, and, in noisy mirth
