Or muse upon thy country's laws, And patriot hands shall sound applause, Go, dig the diamond from the wave, Enjoy the wreath, the gold, the grave,― "I charm thee from the agony Be thou from woman's love as free THE MODERN NECTAR. ONE day, as Bacchus wandered out From his own gay and glorious heaven, To see what mortals were about Below, 'twixt six o'clock and seven, And laugh at all the toils and tears, The sudden hopes, the causeless fears, The midnight songs, the morning smarts, The aching heads, the breaking hearts, Which he and his fair crony Venus Ere day on the Gog-Magog hills had fainted, They sate them down, and drank together: Rum and shrub, and brandy and gin, One after another, they stowed them in, Claret of Carbonell, porter of Meux, Champagne which would waken a wit in dukes, Humble Port, and proud Tokay, Persico, and Crême de Thé, The blundering Irishman's Usquebaugh, And whispering more than I or you know Or Thespis from his own stage waggon; "Now may I," he lisped, "for ever sit O'er the quiet pulse and the drowsy brains, And noble lords are bound in calf, And Zoilus for his sins rehearses Old Bentham's prose, old Wordsworth s verses, If I have not found a richer draught Than ever yet Olympus quaffed Better and brighter and dearer far Than the golden sands of Pactolus are!" And then he filled in triumph up, To the highest top sparkle, Jove's beaming cup, And pulling up his silver hose, And turning in his tottering toes (While Hebe, as usual, the mischievous gipsy, AN EPITAPH On the late King of the Sandwich Islands. BENEATH the marble, mud, or moss, Entombed in eulogies and dross, The Island King is food for vermin. Preserved by scribblers and by salt His character, the daily papers. Well was he framed for royal seat; And earned thereby the usual pensions, He warred with half-a-score of foes, To make their sovereign ruler glorious; And days were set apart for thanks, And prayers were said by pious readers, And laud was lavished on the ranks, And laurel lavished on their leaders; Events are writ by History's pen, Though causes are too much to care for ; Fame talks about the where and when, While Folly asks the why and wherefore. In peace he was intensely gay Preparing gewgaws every day, And building carriages and boats, And regulating all the coats, And all the principles of millions, And drinking homilies and gin, And chewing pork and adulation, And looking backwards upon sin, And looking forward to salvation. The people, in his happy reign, When the fierce mob, with clubs and knives, All vowed that nothing should content them, But that their representatives Should actually represent them, He interposed the proper checks, By sending troops with drums and banners To cut their speeches short, and necks, And break their heads to mend their manners, |