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THE CHANT OF THE BRAZEN HEAD.

Brazen companion of my solitary hours! do you, while I recline, pronounce a prologue to those sentiments of wisdom and virtue, which are hereafter to be the oracles of statesmen, and the guides of philosophers. Give me to-night a proem of our essay, an opening of our case, a division of our subject. Speak!"

-(Slow music. The Friar falls asleep. The Head chants as follows.)—The BRAZEN HEAD.

“ I THINK, whatever mortals crave,

With impotent endeavor,
A wreath—a rank—a thronema grave-

The world goes round forever;
I think that life is not too long,

And therefore I determine
That many people read a song,

Who will not read a sermon.

“I think you've look'd through many hearts,

And mused on many actions.
And studied man's component parts,

And nature's compound fractions;
I think you've picked up truth by bits

From foreigner and neighbor,
I think the world has lost its wits,

And you have lost your labor.

“ I think the studies of the wise,

The hero's noisy quarrel,
The majesty of woman's eyes,

The poet's cherished laurel;
And all that makes us lean or fat,

And all that charms or troublesThis bubble is more bright than that,

But still they all are bubbles.

“ I think the thing you call Renown,

The unsubstantial vapor
For which a soldier burns a town,

The sonneteer a taper,
Is like the mist which, as he flies,

The horseman leaves behind him ; He cannot mark its wreaths arise,

Or, if he does, they blind him.

“ I think one nod of Mistress Chance

Makes creditors of debtors, * And shifts the funeral for the dance,

The sceptre for the fetters; I think that Fortune's favored guest,

May live to gnaw the platters; And he that wears the purple vest

May wear the rags and tatters.

“ I think the Tories love to buy

• Your Lordships' and · Your Graces, By loathing common honesty,

And lauding common places ;

I think that some are very wise,

And some are very funny,
And some grow rich by telling lies,

And some by telling money.
" I think the Whigs are wicked knaves,

And very like the Tories, Who doubt that Britain rules the waves,

And ask the price of glories; I think that many fret and fume

At what their friends are planning, And Mr. Hume hates Mr. Brougham

As much as Mr. Canning.

“ I think that friars and their hoods,

Their doctrines and their maggots,
Have lighted up too many feuds,

And far too many fagots ;
I think while zealots fast and frown,

And fight for two or seven,
That there are fifty roads to town,

And rather more to Heaven.

“ I think that, thanks to Paget's lance,

And thanks to Chester's learning, The hearts that burned for fame in France,

At home are safe from burning; I think the Pope is on his back,

And, though 'tis fun to shake him, I think the Devil not so black,

As many people make him.

“ I think that Love is like a play

Where tears and smiles are blended, Or like a faithless April day,

Whose shine with shower is ended ; Like Colnbrook pavement, rather rough,

Like trade, exposed to losses, And like a Highland plaid, all stuff,

And very full of crosses.

“ I think the world, though dark it be,

Has aye one rapturous pleasure, Conceal'd in life's monotony,

For those who seek the treasure;
One planet in a starless night,

One blossom on a briar-
One friend not quite a hypocrite-

One woman not a liar !

“I think poor beggars court St. Giles,

Rich beggars court St. Stephen; And Death looks down with nods and smiles,

And makes the odds all even;
I think some die upon the field,

And some upon the billow,
And some are laid beneath a shield,

And some beneath a willow.

“ I think that very few have sigh’d,

When Fate at last has found them, Though bitter foes were by their side,

And barren moss around thern;

I think that some have died of drought,

And some have died of drinking;
I think that naught is worth a thought,

And I'm a fool for thinking."

(1826.)

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