28 Epitaph on the King of the Sandwich Islands.

EPITAPH ON THE LATE KING OF THE SANDWICH ISLANDS.

BE

PRAED.

ENEATH the marble mud or moss,
Whiche'er his subjects shall determine,
Entombed in eulogies and dross,

The island king is food for vermin;
Prison'd by scribblers and by salt,
From Lethe and sepulchral vapours,
His body fills his father's vault,
His character the daily papers.

Well was he framed for royal seat;

Kind to the meanest of his creatures;

With tender heart and tender feet,

And open purse and open features;
The ladies say who laid him out,

And earned thereby the usual pensions,
They never wreathed a shroud about
A corpse of more genteel dimensions.
He warr'd with half a score of foes,
And shone-by proxy-in the quarrel;
Enjoyed hard fights and soft repose,

And deathless debt, and deathless laurel:
His enemies were scalped and flayed,
Whene'er his soldiers were victorious;
And widows wept, and paupers paid,
To make their sovereign ruler glorious.

In peace he was intensely gay,
And indefatigably busy;
Preparing gew-gaws every day,

And shows to make his subjects dizzy;
And hearing the report of guns,

And signing the report of jailors,

And making up receipts for buns,
And patterns for the army tailors;

And building carriages and boats,

And streets, and chapels, and pavilions;

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 forwards to salvation.

The Child's Inquiry.

Peace to his dust! his fostering care

By grateful hearts shall long be cherished, And all his subjects shall declare

They lost a grinder when he perished.
They who shall look upon the lead

In which a people's love hath shrined him,
Shall say, when all the worst is said,
Perhaps he leaves a worse behind him!

THE CHILD'S INQUIRY.

MRS. RAPER.

LITTLE girl, with flaxen hair,

Aand laughing eyes of blue,

And skin as alabaster fair,

With cheek of roseate hue,

Was seated at her mother's knee,
And still kept prattling fast and free.

While ever and anon was heard
A sigh so deep and long

From that pale woman's inmost heart,
As though that heart were wrang

With some deep agony of grief,

Which in those sighs found sweet relief.

And yet the little child would gaze
With sweet, inquiring look
Upon that loving mother's face,
Yet not a word she spoke,
Till on her little arm there fell
A tear, from her she loved so well.

"Mother! dear mother, do not cry,
Father will soon come home;
He said this morning he would try,
And would not always roam.

I know he will, should he not stay
At the Three Tuns,' that's in the way."

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The Child's Inquiry.

"Yes, yes, my child, dear father's kind,
And loving is his heart,

And never from his wife and child
Would ever wish to part;

But that drink-shop you talk about
'Tis that which keeps your father out."

"But, mother, what can make him spend
His evenings in that place

When he at home might have a friend?
It seems a curious taste,

That men with home, and child, and wife,
Should in such places waste their life.

"I'm sure when errands I must run,
And have to pass that way,

There's such a noise, and smell of drink,
I have to run away.

Then why dear father there doth go,
I often think I'd like to know."

"My child, the things that make you run Entice poor father in;

And where such places are, my child,

They lead to want and sin.

My heart feels bursting when I think
What grief and woe is caused by drink.

"I wish, when father was a child
There'd been a Band of Hope,

He might have now with pleasure smiled,
And been to us a prop.

But now dark ruin and despair,

Through drink, pursues us everywhere.

"Oh! could those houses be shut up,
As in the State of Maine,
Where none dare buy or sell a drop
Of drunkard's drink again.

Methinks how happy we should be
If from vile drink our land were free."

The Child's Inquiry.

"But, mother. if they were shut up,
What would the landlords do
To buy their wives and children food,
And clothes, and fuel too?

Poor things! I fear that they would die
For want, if none from them must buy."

"We only want them not to sell
The drunkard's poisoned cup,
Let them but banish drink, my child,
We ne'er would shut them up,
For strangers want some place to stay
For rest, and food, upon the way.

"The druggist must not poison sell
To woman, man, or child,
Without great care and caution, too;
Yet drink which is so styled,
Though really poison in disguise,
Is sold to ignorant and wise.

"Drink poisons morals, manners, health,
Brings want, disease, and death:
Makes husbands heartless; fathers, fiends;
Taints with a poisonous breath
Whatever comes within its range,
And loving hearts doth oft estrange.

"Good men in Britain seem to feel
That something must be done,
To close those houses, which do steal
Poor drunkards from their home.
I'm sure 'twill be a glorious day
When drinking shops are done away."

"Well, mother, now I think I know
Why you so often weep,

And why your step seems sad and slow,
And you no money keep,

Poor father takes it every day

To landlord John across the way.

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The Child's Inquiry.

"I'm a member of the Band of Hope,
But there's another name

I've heard you mention once or twice,
When talking to Miss Blain,
Could I do anything in that?

What is the name? You have it pat."

"ALLIANCE,' do you mean, my dear?
"Yes, yes, I know it now,

But I'm too young, I almost fear,

Yet, mother, tell me how

A little girl like me can aid,

In ending all this wicked trade."

"Well, this I know, there's sold each week, In village, city, town,

A paper called The Alliance News,

By thousands up and down,

To teach men how, and why they may,

Shut up those shops without delay.

"Good men, and great, and rich, and wise

Together have agreed,

To rid our country of its bane,

And have old England freed

From this sad blot upon her fame,

The selling that which leads to shame."

"Well, mother, I can sign my name,
If you should think it right,
And ask the Queen and Government
To shut those houses quite;
And if they ask the reason why,
I'll tell them how you weep and cry."

"My little girl must go to rest,

And on another day,

We'll talk the matter o'er again,

And then we'll find some way

By which a little girl can aid,
In putting down this wicked trade."