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STANZAS.

WITH the good of our country before us,
Why play the mere partisan's gaine?
Lo! the broad flag of England is o'er us,
And behold on both sides 't is the same!

Not for this, not for that, not for any,

Not for these, nor for those, but for all-
To the last drop of blood, the last penny,
Together let's stand, or let's fall!

Tear down the vile signs of a fraction,
Be the national banner unfurled,-
And if we must have any faction,—
Be it "Britain against all the world.'

SONG.*

My mother bids me spend my smiles
On all who come and call me fair,
As crumbs are thrown upon the tiles,
To all the sparrows of the air.

But I've a darling of my own,

For whom I hoard my little stock

What if I chirp him all alone,

And leave mamma to feed the flock!

* "Of all my father's attempts at dramatic writing, I can find no trace, save one little song, intended for a musical piece, which was written to the air 'My mother bids me bind my hair.'"-Memorials.

TO CELIA.

OLD Fiction says that Love hath eyes,
Yet sees, unhappy boy! with none;
Blind as the night! But Fiction lies,
For Love doth always see with one.

To one our graces all unveil,

To one our flaws are all exposed; But when with tenderness we hail,

He smiles, and keeps the critic closed.

But when he's scorned, abused, estranged,
He opes the eye of evil ken,

And all his angel friends are changed
To demons and are hated then!

Yet once it happ'd, that, semi-blind,
He met thee, on a summer day,
And took thee for his mother kind,
And frowned as he was pushed away.

But still he saw thee shine the same,
Though he had ope'd his evil eye,
And found that nothing but her shame,
Was left to know his mother by!

And ever since that morning sun

He thinks of thee; and blesses Fate

That he can look with both on one

Who hath no ugliness to hate.

SONNET.

WRITTEN IN KEATS'S ENDYMION.

I saw pale Dian, sitting by the brink

Of silver falls-the overflow of fountains From cloudy steeps; and I grew sad to think Endymion's foot was silent on those mountains; And he but a hushed name, that Silence keeps In dear remembrance-lonely and forlornSinging it to herself until she weeps

Tears that perchance still glisten in the morn; And as I mused, in dull imaginings,

There came a flash of garments, and I knew The awful Muse by her harmonious wings, Charming the air to music as she flewAnon there rose an echo through the vale, Gave back Endymion in a dream-like tale.

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From the Comic Annual for 1831.

(2.) ODE TO JOSEPH HUME.

From the Comic Annual for 1832, at about which time Hume was at the summit of his reputation as an economical reformer. He has had many imitators, without his talents or sincerity, in public bodies, who have labored to bring national faith into discredit by repudiating just demands against government, or by voting against all payments of money, whether just or unjust.

(3.) ODE TO SPENCER PERCEVal, Esq.

From the Comic Annual for 1833. Mr. SPENCER PERCEVAL made himself notorious by a motion in the House of Commons [January 26, 1832] for presenting an humble address to the King, to order a day for a general fast and humiliation, which he supported in the most extraordinary speech that has been made in Parliament since the days of Praise-God Barebones. This speech was made with a preliminary flourish, as follows:

"Mr. Perceval being called on to bring forward the motion of which he had given notice, rose, and said-I perceive that strangers are in the House.

"The Speaker: Strangers must withdraw.

"The officers of the House proceeded to clear the galleries.

"Mr. Hume: I presume I may move the suspension of the standing order.

"The Speaker: Strangers must withdraw.

The gallery was then cleared, and the House proceeded, with

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