ON WAR. O, COULD some spirit from the fields of day, Then let him stand, where hostile armies join, By the red waters of the rushing Rhine; Amid thick darkness hear the trumpets blow, And the last shriek of nature quiver low ; Mark the full tide of desolation spread, And count at eve the dying and the dead! How would he pause, how seek, in vain, to find Some trace in man, of an immortal mind! Man who can glory in a scene like this, Yet look to brighter worlds for endless bliss. Miss Bannermann. VERSES SENT BY A POET TO A GREAT MAN. GREAT Sir, as on cach levee day And then with menaces depart, Which could you hear would pierce your heart. Good Sir, or make my levee fly me, Or send your porter to deny me. Weekly Amusement. ON EARLY RISING. How foolish they who lengthen night, And hear the music of the grove! Nor you, ye delicate and fair, Anonymous. ON A WATCH. LITTLE monitor, by thee Let me learn what I should be. Till all be regular and true. END OF VOL. 1. |