Act, and an Act to amend the Amendment, and maketh an Act to explain an Act, passing all understanding!

It taketh the crown from the head of one man, and putteth it upon the head of another; and maketh everybody swear allegiance to the same. It changeth its religion, enacting that everybody shall believe that it hath changed, not from false to true, or from true to false, but from true to true; and everybody that doth not so believe, or pretend to believe, it hurteth in their lives, liberties, and properties. It putteth at will its hand into the pocket of everybody, taking therefrom gold and silver, nor disdaining brass, telling everybody that this it doeth for his protection, and everybody submits, and hath no remedy. It laugheth in its sleeve, and cajoleth, and coaxeth, and waxeth wroth with everybody; it giveth anybody leave to live upon everybody, and enacteth that everybody who is not living upon everybody may live how they can; it maketh anybody to be everybody, and everybody to be nobody.

It babbleth for six months in the year, more loquacious than fishretailing fag of Billingsgate; and although it pretendeth to speak in a whisper, yet is indignant if its talk be not retailed next morning over all the town. It beginneth what it calleth its business when men of business are asleep. It babbleth droningly through the long hours of night, and the short hours of morning, and goeth to bed when it hath levied enough taxes; the world in general then getteth up, to slave, and strive, and struggle to pay the taxes, and laboureth all day, till night, when Parliament getteth up, goeth to the House, babbleth, and levieth more and more taxes; and this it doeth eternally, a machine of perpetual tax-motion !

With countenances noble, and brows furrowed with perpetual contemplations of the public care, we saw Parliament arrayed before us; already we heard the preparatory indications of fixed attention to the rising statesman, and witnessed with delight the undiverted attention with which his wisdom, dressed in eloquence, was regarded.

We had seen the administrators of the law in the courts of Westminster Hall, and contemplated with reverence the ermined pomp, the judicial dignity with which they occupied their thrones of justice. If the judges, who are merely the administrators and expounders of the law, impress the mind with so much awe, how much more awful, said I, will appear, clothed in their legislative robes, the authors of the ponderous machinery of legislation, the makers of the laws judges administer, lawyers expound, and citizens obey?

With this profound and original notion we glided through the mob, along a passage lined with numbers of people in waiting, and pushing aside a folding door, made the best of our way up an undignified staircase, to a dark and gloomy apartment, filled to suffocation with a miscellaneous, well-dressed mob. This dingy apartment is called the LOBBY OF THe House.

For an introduction to the body and soul, thereof, the reader must wait till next number, when we shall take care to provide him with a ticket of admission.

LOVE AND REASON.

BY ANNA SAVAGE.

"Quand la Raison combat contre l'Amour c'est toujours celui-ci qui l'emporte."
Cette fière Raison dont on fait tant de bruit,
Contre les passions n'est pas un grand remède;
Un peu de vin la trouble, un enfant la séduit,
Et déchirer un cœur qui l'appelle à son aide,
Est tout l'effect qu'elle produit.

MADAME DESHOUILLIERES.

REASON. Oh Love, in vain I preach, you rave and rattle,
As if you ne'er my admonitions heard;
One hour you stun me with your baby prattle,
Then pout and whimper: you are quite absurd!
Thrice with sound logic have I tried to fill you;
Thrice tried to cram you with pure mathematics;
You swore that simple algebra would kill you,
And to the pump you voted hydrostatics.
Those I once led in astronomic labours,

LOVE.

By you misled, vain studies still pursue:

Their eyes are raised no higher than their neighbours :
Of all the stars they reckon only two.

Oh baby, senseless, fickle, wild and wilful,

Bend down thy stubborn ear, and let me warn thee.

Stop, my good Mentor, eloquent and skilful,

Yet, yet, beware! say, is it wise to scorn me?
A soldier I! I own my gallant mission,

In spite of all your sober, senseless jar.

REASON. A soldier you! Where held you your commission?
Love. Under brave Paris in the Trojan war.

REASON. Oh earth would be a paradise without thee!

Love.

With Peace would Science blend, and Peace with Reason; But, a destruction hovers still about thee;

Thy very name brings bloodshed, tears, and treason!

My equal find at merry masquerading;

At crowning Wisdom's brow with bells of Folly;
Bright Wit in domino of dullness shading,

Ör veiling Mirth with mask of Melancholy.
REASON. With your wild phantasies you drive men frantic,
Then laugh at their bewilderment and wonder;
The masquerading o'er, they 're less romantic,
And frown when Reason points to Passion's blunder.
My fine old friend! you think that you are clever.
How good you are! how kind! how very stupid!
I tried your trade, and failed; yet grant, however,
The world owes something to poor, ill-used Cupid.
I'm not unletter'd; botany I doat on;

Love.

I taught caligraphy, so ne'er deny it;

I found the mystic bark that lovers wrote on,
When idle Reason never dreamt to try it.

I've studied optics, many a fair delusion

The blind have welcomed when my glass they wore ;

Couleur de rose I tinted the illusion;

'T was passing fair, and passed; it was no more!

In the great science of anatomy

I've won the honours of each hall and school,

Till 'twas agreed in heart's phlebotomy,

Hippocrates to Cupid was a fool!

"Twas I who pointed out the painter's duty,
And all his shadowy visions fondly nourished,
Till they glowed forth in tints of living beauty.
The fine-arts 'neath my fostering wing have flourished.
"T was I who bade the sculptor's chisel waken

The cold, still marble, into breathing life;
Think you,.by poring over Locke or Bacon

The fond Pygmalion would have found his wife?
I smile upon the poet in his slumbers,

I throw a magic o'er the Téian lyre;

'Tis my soft breathings o'er his graceful numbers
Enkindles beauty's flame of fond desire.

'Twas I inspired sad Sappho, I who taught her
The last-born love-song 'neath the twilight dim.
REASON. Through you Leander perish'd in the water!
Love. You should have taught the fellow how to swim.
I am life's alchymist, (you see you nettle

My vanity the while, so you must bear it,)
And brass of mine produces precious metal.
Still I'm no miser; for I seek to share it.

REASON. With me, sweet child, watchful and grave, beside thee,
Thou shouldst be warn'd from paths of flattering error.
Oh! wilful Love, I pray thee let me guide thee
From ruin dark, the tempest, and its terror.

Love.

If thou my little bark were gravely steering,

The charm would vanish that from freedom springs, My wilding reign were o'er, my gay careering, When Reason's hand should stay Love's rapid wings. REASON. Let me direct thee-let us sail together.

LOVE.

As down Life's stream thy merry pinnace dances,
Time shall not rob thy bright wing of a feather,
Or dim the radiance of thy sunny glances.
Wondrous devotion! My most sapient Mentor,
You lose your labour; I shall ne'er obey.
I almost wonder you should dare to venture,
So oft I've led e'en your slow steps astray.
When loving faces would be smiling near thee,
Say, wouldst thou frown as now, and look so wise?
Or wouldst thou greet them?

REASON. LOVE. REASON. Love.

And if they went not?

Hence, away! I fear thee.

I should shut my eyes.

Hence, Reason, hence! come back, my merry Folly,
My blithe companion! dearer than of yore.
Wisdom, thy warnings make me melancholy,
And I will rule without thee, as before.
Oh! when did Reason ever clip my pinion,
Or fling one bond upon my roseate wing?
Despise me?-no!-he owns my proud dominion.
I still will rule the peasant and the king.

REASON. Thy brightest smiles but bring thy votaries sorrow;

LOVE.

And, though thy chains appear a flowery wreath,
The blossoms, that from tears their radiance borrow,
Twine round the fetters that are hid beneath.
Thou dost me wrong! From Fancy's beaming tower
I flung the beacon o'er life's gloomy sea,
And hearts, 'mid all their anguish, bless my power,
Still let the worldlings frown, they turn to me.
There must be shadows, though the day be sunny;
The clouded sky some bright hue still adorns;
Where sweet flowers smile, the bees will seek for honey;
And with the roses we must take the thorns.