Taf OLEO.

THE SKELETON DANCE.
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(From the German of Goethe. The warden looked out at the midnight

 hour,

 On the tonbs in the church yard aronnd; The moon it shone forth with .efuigem

 power,

 And lighted each distant monnd-- Then greve-stone on grave stone snccess-

 iyeiy rise, forth, And females and males in order come h flowing resplendant guise. Not moment is lost; to amusement they ngay circle their footsteps advance; Ahe rich with the poor, and the high with

 the low,

 But the manties impede the gay dance. To modesty little regard they pay, But carelessIy dof their cumbrons loads. And merrily toss their shrouds away. Now foot vie. with foot, and heel ohases heel,

 And demonish pranks arise; A click and a einck resonnds on the deal, hat music a.,ti measure sHppifes. The warden, astonished, now laughs aloud While ti.e tempter, the rogue, whispers

 into his ar,

 to! seize os a snow white shroudi' y lis thought and 'tis done, and with spec

 diest flight

 He retreats to tic sanCtiied doors; Still brightly the moon illumines the night And her beams OCT tho jewellers pours; Yet soon by degrees they steal away Their shrouds they resume, and desert the green;

 'ris still, where 'twas lately so gay. But one remains tripping and stumbling a.

 bout,

 And grabbing esch hole and each lair; Xet his friends must be e-'twefe shame

 fnl to doubt

 His mantle he snufFs Tn the air. The turret he shakes, bat shak es.it iii vain, tor useless his efforts while sacred and

 charmed, The crosses of metal remain. ; ct his shroud he must have, nor mo

 ment delay,

 Nor for thought has he time orpo,ver--- salld the Gothic festoons he soon forces

 way,

 And chambers from tower to tower. 5Now speedy misfortune the warder betides, As crawling, so long ged spiders are

 wont,

 From pillar to pillar he gIides. The warden turns pale, with alarm half

 dead,

 And curses his prize in his fears yp5t then. high soaring above his head, tic spears iron point It appoarsi Gou hides the pale moon her duninished

 llght--

 The clock thunders forth the first hour

 oi day,

 And the skeleton sank to the shades

 of night. Literary Gas. 