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Naming no name of friend or foe,
And reckless if they heard or no.

Ay, go thy way, thou painted thing,
Puppet, which mortals call a king,
Adorning thee with idle gems,
With drapery and diadems,

And scarcely guessing, that beneath
The purple robe and laurel wreath,
There's nothing but the common slime
Of human clay and human crime !—
My rags are not so rich,—but they
Will serve as well to cloak decay.

"And ever round thy jeweled brow
False slaves and falser friends will bow;
And Flattery,-as varnish flings
A baseness on the brightest things,—
Will make the monarch's deeds appear
All worthless to the monarch's ear,
Till thou wilt turn and think that Fame,
So vilely drest is worse than shame!—
The gods be thanked for all their mercies,
Diogenes hears naught but curses!

"And thou wilt banquet!-air and sea
Will render up their hoards for thee;
And golden cups for thee will hold
Rich nectar, richer than the gold.
The cunning caterer still must share
The dainties which his toils prepare:

The page's lip must taste the wine

Before he fills the cup for thine !—
Wilt feast with me on Hecate's cheer?
I dread no royal hemlock here!

"And night will come; and thou wilt lie
Beneath a purple canopy,

With lutes to lull thee, flowers to shed
Their feverish fragrance round thy bed,
A princess to unclasp thy crest.—
A Spartan spear to guard thy rest.—
Dream, happy one!-thy dreams will be
Of danger and of perfidy ;—

The Persian lance,-the Carian club !—
I shall sleep sounder in my tub!

"And thou wilt pass away, and have
A marble mountain o'er thy grave,
With pillars tall, and chambers vast,
Fit palace for the worm's repast!--
I too shall perish !-let them call
The vulture to my funeral;
The Cynic's staff, the Cynic's den,
Are all he leaves his fellow men,—
Heedless how this corruption fares,-
Yea, heedless though it mix with theirs!"

UTOPIA.

"I can dream, sir,

If I eat well and sleep well."

The Mad Lover.

IF I could scare the sun away,
No light should ever shine;
If I could bid the clouds obey,
Thick darkness should be mine;
Where'er my weary footsteps roam,
I hate whate'er I see;
And fancy builds a fairer home

In Slumber's hour for me.

I had a vision yesternight

Of a fairer land than this,

Where Heaven was clothed in warmth and light,
Where Earth was full of bliss ;
And every tree was rich with fruits,
And every field with flowers,

And every zephyr wakened lutes

In passion-haunted bowers.

I clambered up a lofty rock,

And did not find it steep;

I read through a page and a half of Locke
And did not fall asleep.

I said whate'er I may but feel,

I paid whate'er I owe;

And I danced one day an Irish reel
With the gout in every toe.

And I was more than six feet high,

And fortunate and wise ; And I had a voice of melody,

And beautiful black eyes;

My horses like the lightning went,

My barrels carried true;

And I held my tongue at an argument,

And winning cards at Loo.

I saw an old Italian priest,

Who spoke without disguise;

And I dined with a Judge, who swore, like Best,

All libels should be lies.

I bought for a penny a two-penny loaf

Of wheat, and nothing more;

I danced with a female philosopher

Who was not quite a bore.

There was a crop of wheat which

grew Where plough was never brought; There was a noble lord who knew

What he was never taught.

There was a scheme in the gazette

For a lottery without blanks; And a Parliament had lately met, Without a single Bankes.

And there were Kings who never went

To cuffs for half a crown;

And Lawyers who were eloquent
Without a wig or gown:

And Statesmen who forebore to praise
Their grayhounds and their guns;
And Poets who deserved the bays,
And did not dread the duns;

And Boroughs were bought without a test, And no man feared the Pope;

And the Irish cabins were all possessed

Of Liberty and soap;

And the Chancellor, feeling very sick,

Had just resigned the seals;

And a clever little Catholic

Was hearing Scotch appeals.

There was no fraud in the penal code,
No dunce in the public schools,
No dust or dirt on a private road,

No shame in Wellesly Pole.

They showed me a figurante, whose name Had never known disgrace;

And a gentleman of spotless fame,

With Mr. Bochsa's face.