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This Son of Mars, upon his silent station,
Hearing, at night a dismal lamentation,

Stole to the place of wo-that is, the tomb
And peeping in, beheld a beauteous face
That look'd with such a charming tragic grace,

Displaying sorrow for a husband's doom.
The Youth most naturally express’d surprise,
And scarcely could he credit his two eyes:
“Good God, Ma’am--pray Ma'am, what's the

matter here? “Sweet Ma'am be comforted! you must! you shall! “At times misfortunes, even the best befal. — “Pray stop your grief, MA’AM, save that precious

tear. “Go, Soldier, leave me!" sigh'd the Fair again, In such a melting melancholy strain,

Casting her eyes of wo upon the Youth“I cannot, will not live without my love!" And then she threw her glistening eyes above,

That swam in tears of constancy and truth. “Madam!” rejoind the Youth,—and press'd her

hand, • “Indeed you shall not my advice withstand; “For heav'n's sake dont stay here to weep and

howl: « Pray take refreshment!” Off at once he set, And quickly brought the MOURNER drink and meat;

A bottle of Madeira and a fowl;

And bread and beer, her heart to cheer. Ah! gentle Youth, you bid me eat in vain! " Leave me! oh, leave me, SOLDIER, to complain,

“Yes, sympathizing youth, withdraw your wine: " My sighs and tears shall be my only food. « Thou knewest not my Husband, kind and good,

"For whom this heart shall ever, ever pine!" And then she cast upon the Youth an eye All tender! saying, “ SOLDIER, let me die!

And then she press'd his hand with friendship warm. "You shall not die, by heav'n!” the Soldier swore “No! to the world such beauty I'll restore,

“And give it back again its only charm! (Such was the effect of her delicious hand That charmd his senses like a'wizard's wand!) “What! howl forever for a breathless clod! “ Ma’am, you shall eat a leg of fowl by G—!" With that he clapp'd wine, fowl, bread, beer and all, Without more ceremony, on the pall.

“Well, SOLDIER, if you do insist,” quoth she, All in a saint-like, sweet, complying tone, “I'll try if Grief will let me pick a bone! “Your health, Sır”_" Thank you kindly Ma'am,”

quoth he. As grief absorbs the senses, the fair Dame

Scarce knew that she was eating, or yet drinking; So hard it is a roaring grief to tame,

And keep the sighing, pensive soul from thinking! So that the fowl and wine soon pass'd indeed:Quickly away too stole the beer and bread

All down her pretty little swelling throat.
And now,—whate'er philosophers may think,
Sorrow is much oblig'd to meat and drink,
Whose soothing virtues stop the plaintive note:

And, says the anatomic ART,

“ The stomach's very near the heart.” PRUDENTIA found it so: a gentler sigh

Stole from her lovely breast;-a smaller tear,

Containing less of anguish, did appear Within the pretty corner of her eye; .

Her eye's dark cloud dispersing too apace, (Just like a cloud that oft conceals the Moon)

Let out a brighter lustre o'er her face; Seeming to indicate dry weather soon. Her tongue, too, somewhat lost its mournful style; Her rose-bud lips expanded with a smile;

Which pleas'd the gallant Soldier, to be sure, Happy to think he sav'd the Dame from Death:Yes, from his hug preserv'd the sweetest breath,

And to a wounded heart prescribed a cure. Now Mars' Son a minute left the Dame,

To see if all went well with Rogue and rope;

But, ere he to the fatal gibbet came,

The knave had deem'd it proper to elope! :
In short, attendance on the Lady's grief
Had lost him his companion,--the hang'd Thief,

Whose friends had kindly filch'd him from the string. Quick to the Lady did the Soldier run: “Madam, I shall be hang'd, as sure as a gun!

"U Lord! the thief's gone off, and I shall swing! “Madam, it was the royal declaration,

" That if the Rogue was carried off,

" Whether by soft means or by rough" No matter, -I should take his situation. 66 O Lord, O Lord! my fate's decreed! 66 O MA’AM, I shall be hang'd indeed! « O Lord! O Lord! this comes of creeping " To graves and tombs;—this comes of peeping:

“This is the effect of running from my duty! "O curse my folly! What an ape “Was I to let the Thief escape! “This comes of fowl, and wine, and beer, and

beauty! « Yet Ma'am, I beg your pardon too, :“Since, if I'm hang d 'twill be for you!" “Cheer up my gallant Friend,” reply'd the Dame,

Squeezing his hand, and smoothing down his face“No, no, you sha'nt be hang’d, nor come to shame;

“My husband here shall take the Fellow's place. “Nought but a lump of clay can he be counted! " Then let him mount”—and lo! the Corpse was

mounted;
Made a good thief;—nay, so complete,
The people never smelt the cheat.
Now from the Gibbet to the Tomb again,

Haste, arm-in-arm, the Soldier and the Fair,
To exchange for kisses and the Turtle strain,

Sad hymns of Death, and ditties of Despair.

: ON CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA.

BURKE. For that service, for all service, whether of revenue, trade, or empire, my trust is in her interest in the British constitution. My hold of the colonies is in the close affection which grows from common names, from kindred blood, from similar privileges, and equal protection. These are ties, which, though light as air, are as strong as links of iron. Let the colonies always keep the idea of their civil rights associated with your government; they will cling and grapple to you; and no force under heaven will be of power to tear them from their allegiance. But let it be once understood, that your government may be one thing, and their privileges another; that these two things may exist without any mutual relation; the cement is gone; the cohesion is loosened; and every thing hastens to decay and dissolution. As long as you have the wisdom to keep the sovereign authority of this country as the sanctuary of liberty, the sacred temple consecrated to our common faith, wherever the chosen race and sons of England worship freedom, they will turn their faces towards you. The more they multiply, the more friends you will have. The more ardently they love liberty, the more perfect will be their obedience. Slavery they can have any where. It is a weed that grows in every soil. They may have it from Spain, they may have it from Prussia. But until you become lost to all feelings of your true interest and your national dignity, freedom they can have from none but you. This is the commodity of price, of which you have the monopoly. This is the true act of navigation, which binds to you the commerce of the colonies, and through them secures to you the wealth of the world. Deny them this participation of freedom, and you break that sole bond, which originally made, and must still preserve the unity of the empire.' Do not entertain so weak an imagination, as that your registers and your bonds, your affidavits and your sufferances, your cockets and your clearances, are what

form the great securities of your commerce. Do not dream that your letters of office, and your instructions, and your suspending clauses, are the things that hold together the great contexture of this mysterious whole. These things do not make your government, dead instruments, passive tools as they are; it is the spirit of the English constitution that gives all their life and efficacy to them. It is the spirit of the English constitution, which, infused through the mighty mass, pervades, feeds, unites, invigorates, vivities, every part of the empire, even down to the minutest member.

Is it not the same virtue which does every thing for us here in England? Do you imagine then, that it is the land tax which raises your revenue? that it is the annual vote in the committee of supply, which gives you your army? or that it is the mutiny bill which inspires it with bravery and discipline? No! surely no! It is the love of the people it is their attachment to their government from the sense of the deep stake they have in such a glorious institution, which gives you your army and your navy, and infuses into both that liberal obedience, without which your army would be a base rabble, and your navy nothing but rotten timber.

All this, I know well enough, will sound wild and chimerical to the profane herd of those vulgar and mechanical politicians, who have no place among us; a sort of people who think that nothing exists but what is gross and material; and who therefore, far from being qualified to be directors of the great movement of empire, are not fit to turn a wheel in the machine. But to men truly initiated and rightly taught, these ruling and master principles, which, in the opinion of such men as I have mentioned, have no substantial existence, are in truth every thing, and all in all. Magnanimity in politics is not seldom the truest wisdom; and a great empire and little minds go ill together. If we are conscious of our situation, and glow with zeal to fill our place as becomes our station and ourselves, we ought to auspicate all our

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