With all his people kneeling, And priests perform'd religious rites: "Come," said the younger of the sprites, "This shows a pious feeling." YOUNG SPIRIT. "Ar'n't these a decent godly race?" OLD SPIRIT. "The dirtiest thieves on Nature's face." YOUNG SPIRIT. "But hark, what cheers they're giving Their emperor!-And is he a thief?" OLD SPIRIT. "Ay, and a cut-throat too ;-in brief, THE GREATEST SCOUNDREL LIVING." YOUNG SPIRIT. "But say, what were they praying for, This people and their emperor? OLD SPIRIT. "Why, for God's assistance To help their army, late sent out: And what that army is about, You'll see at no great distance." On wings outspeeding mail or post, In massacres it wallow'd: A noble nation met its hordes, But broken fell their cause and swords, They saw a late bombarded town, Its streets still warm with blood ran down; And hideously, 'midst rape and sack, They saw the captive eye the dead, Death's quick reward of bravery: "Fie! fie!" the younger heavenly spark Exclaim'd:-" we must have miss'd our mark, And enter'd hell's own portals: Earth can't be stain'd with crimes so black; Of fiends, and not of mortals? "No," said the elder; "no such thing: Fiends are not fools enough to wring The necks of one another: They know their interests too well: Men fight; but every devil in hell And I could point you out some fellows, In royal power that revel; Who, at the opening of the book Of judgment, may have cause to look Name but the devil, and he'll appear. With smutty face and figure: Could watch the fiendish nigger. "Halloo!" he cried, "I smell a trick: A mortal supersedes Old Nick, The scourge of earth appointed: He robs me of my trade, outrants The blasphemy of hell, and vaunts Himself the Lord's anointed! Folks make a fuss about my mischief: Dd fools; they tamely suffer this chief To play his pranks unbounded." The cherubs flew; but saw from high, At human inhumanity, The devil himself astounded. SENEX'S SOLILOQUY ON HIS YOUTHFUL IDOL. PLATONIC friendship at your years, Yes, and she 'll loathe me unforgiven, But beauty is a beam from heaven, I'll challenge Plato from the skies, To look in M-y C—'s eyes, TO SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, ON HIS SPEECH DELIVERED IN PARLIAMENT, AUGUST 7, 1832, RESPECTING THE FOREIGN POLICY OF GREAT BRITAIN. BURDETT, enjoy thy justly foremost fame, Through good and ill report-through calm and storm For forty years the pilot of reform! Is that thou hast come nobly forth to chide Invoke the scorn-Alas! too few inherit The scorn for despots cherish'd by our sires, That baffled Europe's persecuting fires, And shelter'd helpless states!-Recall that spirit, And conjure back Old England's haughty mind Convert the men who waver now, and pause Between their love of self and humankind; |