Why shun, as worthless of affiliation,
What men of all political persuasion
Extol-and even use upon occasion-
That Christian principle, conciliation?
But possibly the men who make such fuss
With Sunday pippins and old Trots infirm,
Attach some other meaning to the term,
As thus:

One market morning, in my usual rambles,
Passing along Whitechapel's ancient shambles,
Where meat was hung in many a joint and quarter,
I had to halt awhile, like other folks,

To let a killing butcher coax

A score of lambs and fatted sheep to slaughter.
A sturdy man he look'd to fell an ox,
Bull-fronted, ruddy, with a formal streak
Of well-greas'd hair down either cheek,
As if he dee-dash-dee'd some other flocks
Beside those woolly-headed stubborn blocks
That stood before him, in vexatious huddle-
Poor little lambs, with bleating wethers group'd,
While, now and then, a thirsty creature stoop'd
And meekly snuff'd, but did not taste the puddle.

Fierce bark'd the dog, and many a blow was dealt,
That loin, and chump, and scrag and saddle felt,
Yet still, that fatal step they all declin'd it,-
And shunn'd the tainted door as if they smelt
Onions, mint sauce, and lemon juice behind it.
At last there came a pause of brutal force,

The cur was silent, for his jaws were full
Of tangled locks of tarry wool,

The man had whoop'd and hollow'd till dead hoarse,
The time was ripe for mild expostulation,

And thus it stammer'd from a stander-by-

"Zounds!--my good fellow,-it quite makes me-why, It really my dear fellow-do just try

Conciliation!"

Stringing his nerves like flint,

The sturdy butcher seiz'd upon the hint,-
At least he seiz'd upon the foremost wether,-

And hugg'd and lugg'd and tugg'd him neck and crop
Just nolens volens thro' the open shop-

If tails come off he didn't care a feather,—-
Then walking to the door, and smiling grim,
He rubb'd his forehead and his sleeve together-
"There!-I've conciliated him !"

Again-good-humoredly to end our quarrel(Good humor should prevail !)

I'll fit you with a tale

Whereto is tied a moral.

Once on a time a certain English lass

Was seiz'd with symptoms of such deep decline,

Cough, hectic, flushes, ev'ry evil sign,

That, as their wont is at such desperate pass,

The Doctors gave her over-to an ass.
Accordingly, the grisly Shade to bilk,

Each morn the patient quaff'd a frothy bowl
Of asinine new milk,

Robbing a shaggy suckling of a foal

Which got proportionably spare and skinny

Meanwhile the neighbors cried “

poor Mary Ann!

She can't get over it! she never can!"

When lo! to prove each prophet was a ninny
The one that died was the poor wetnurse Jenny.

To aggravate the case,

There were but two grown donkeys in the place ;
And most unluckily for Eve's sick daughter,
The other long-ear'd creature was a male,
Who never in his life had given a pail

Of milk, or even chalk and water.
No matter at the usual hour of eight
Down trots a donkey to the wicket-gate,
With Mister Simon Gubbins on its back,-
“Your sarvant, Miss,-a werry spring-like day,—
Bad time for hasses tho'! good lack! good lack!
Jenny be dead, Miss,-but I'ze brought ye Jack,
He doesn't give no milk-but he can bray.”

So runs the story,

And, in vain self-glory,

Some Saints would sneer at Gubbins for his blindness

But what the better are their pious saws

To ailing souls, than dry hee-haws,

Without the milk of human kindness?

IMMORTAL Imogen, crown'd queen above
The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe to hear
A fairy dream in honor of true love—
True above ills, and frailty, and all fear--
Perchance a shadow of his own career

Whose youth was darkly prison'd and long twined
By serpent-sorrow, till white Love drew near,
And sweetly sang him free, and round his mind
A bright horizon threw, wherein no grief may wind.

II.

I saw a tower builded on a lake,

Mock'd by its inverse shadow, dark and deep

That seem'd a still intenser night to make,

Wherein the quiet waters sunk to sleep,

And, whatsoe'er was prisoned in that keep,

A monstrous Snake was warden round and round In sable ringlets I beheld him creep

Blackest amid black shadows to the ground,

Whilst his enormous head the topmost turret crown'd.

III.

From whence he shot fierce light against the stars,
Making the pale moon paler with affright;
And with his ruby eye out-threaten'd Mars,
That blazed in the mid-heavens, hot and bright-
Nor slept, nor wink'd, but with a steadfast spite,
Watch'd their wan looks and tremblings in the skies,
And that he might not slumber in the night,

The curtain-lids were pluck'd from his large eyes, So he might never drowse, but watch his secret prize.

IV.

Prince or princess in dismal durance, pent, Victims of old Enchantment's love or hate, Their lives must all in painful sighs be spent, Watching the lonely waters soon and late, And clouds that pass and leave them to their fate, Or company their grief with heavy tears:Meanwhile that Hope can spy no golden gate For sweet escapement, but in darksome fears They weep and pine away, as if immortal years.

V.

No gentle bird with gold upon its wing
Will perch upon the grate-the gentle bird
Is safe in leafy dell, and will not bring
Freedom's sweet key-note and commission word
Learn'd of a fairy's lips, for pity stirr❜d--
Lest while he trembling sings, untimely guest!
Watch'd by that cruel Snake and darkly heard,
He leave a widow on her lonely nest,

To press in silent grief the darlings of her breast.