A VOICE FROM MARATHON.

O FOR a voice, as loud as that of Fame,
To breathe the word-Arise!
From Pindus to Taygetus to proclaim-
Let every Greek arise!

Te who have hearts to strike a single blow,
Hear my despairing cries!

Ye who have hands to immolate one foe,
Arise! arise! arise!

From the dim fields of Asphodel beneath,
Upborne by cloudy sighs

Of those who love their country still in death,-
Ev'n I-ev'n I-arise!

These are not hands for earthly wringing-these!-
Blood should not blind these eyes!-

Yet here I stand, untomb'd MILTIADES,

Hear

Weeping-arise! arise!

ye the groans that heave this burial-field?--
Old Græcia's saviour-band

Cry from the dust-« Fight on! nor DARE to yield!
Save ye our father-land!

<< Blunt with your bosom the barbaric spear!
Break it within your breast;

Then come, brave Greek! and join your brothers here
In our immortal rest!»>

Shall modern DATIS, Swoln with Syrian pride,
Cover the land with slaves?-

Ay-let them cover it, both far and wide,-
Cover it with their graves!

Much has been done-but more remains to do-
Ye have fought long and well!

The trump that, on the Egean, glory blew,
Seem'd with a storm to swell!

Asia's grim tyrant shudder'd at the sound,
He leap'd upon his throne!

Murmur'd his horse-tail'd chieftainry around

« Another Marathon!»

Dodona, 'mid her fanes and forests hoar, Heard it with colemn glee:

And old Parnassus, with a lofty roar,

Told it from sea to sea!

High-bosom'd Greece, through her unnumber'd vales, Broke forth in glorious song!

Her classic streams that plough the headlong dales,
Thunder'd the notes along!

But there's a bloodier wreath to gain, oh friends!
Now rise, or ever fall!

If ye fight now no fiercer than the fiends,
Better not fight at all!

The feverish war-drum mingles with the fife
In dismal symphony,

And Moslem strikes at liberty and life,—
For both, strike harder ye!

Hark! how Citharon with his earthquake voice
Calls to the utmost shores!

While Pluto bars, against the riving noise,
liis adamantine doors!

Athenè, tiptoe on her crumbling dome,
Cries-« Youth, ve must be men!»
And Echo shouts within her rocky tomb,-
« Greeks, become Greeks again!»

The stone first brought, his living tomb to close,
Pausanias' mother piled:

Matrons of Greece! will ye do less for foes

Than she did for her child?

Let boyhood strike!-let every rank and age
Do each what each can do!
Let him whose arm is mighty as his rage,

Strike deep-strike home-strike through!
Be wise, be firm, be cautious, yet be bold!
Be brother-truc! be ONE!

I teach but what the Phrygian taught of old-
Divide, and be undone!

Hallow'd in life, in death itself, is he
Who for his country dies;

A light, a star, to all futurity

THE ghost of Miltiades came at night,
And he stood by the bed of the Benthamite,
And he said, in a voice that thrill'd the frame,
If ever the sound of Marathon's name
Hath fired thy blood, or flush'd thy brow,
Lover of liberty, rouse thee now!»>

The Benthamite, yawning, left his bed-
Away to the Stock Exchange he sped,
And he found the scrip of Greece so high,
That it fired his blood, it flush'd his eye,

And oh!'t was a sight for the ghost to see,
For there never was Greek more Greek than he!
And still, as the premium higher went,
His ecstasy rose-so much per cent.

(As we see, in a glass that tells the weather,
The heat and the silver rise together,)
And Liberty sung from the patriot's lip,
While a voice from his pocket whisper'd, « Scrip!»>
The ghost of Miltiades came again ;-

He smiled, as the pale moon shines through rain,
For his soul was glad at that patriot strain;
(And, poor, dear ghost-how little he knew
The jobs and tricks of the Philhellene crew!)
Blessings and thanks!» was all he said,
Then melting away, like a night-dream, fled!
The Benthamite hears-amazed that ghosts
Could be such fools-and away he posts,
A patriot still? Ah no, al no-
Goddess of Freedom, thy scrip is low,
And, warm and fond as thy lovers are,
Thou triest their passion when under par.
The Benthamite's ardour fast decays,
By turns, he weeps, and swears, and prays,
And wishes the Devil had crescent and cross,
Ere he had been forced to sell at a loss.
They quote him the stock of various nations,
But, spite of his classic associations,
Lord! how he loathes the Greek quotations!
Who'll buy my scrip? Who 'll buy my scrip?»
Is now the theme of the patriot's lip,
As he runs to tell how hard his lot is
To Messrs Orlando and Luriottis,
And says, Oh Greece, for liberty's sake,
Do buy my scrip, and I vow to break
Those dark, unholy bonds of thine-
If 'll only consent to buy up mine?»

you

The ghost of Miltiades came once more ;~~
Ilis brow, like the night, was lowering o'er,
And he said, with a look that flash'd dismay,
« Of Liberty's foes the worst are they
Who turn to a trade her cause divine,
And gamble for gold on Freedom's shrine !»
Thus saying, the ghost, as he took his flight,
Gave a Parthian kick to the Benthamite,
Which sent him, whimpering, off to Jerry-
And vanish'd away to the Stygian ferry!

MORAL POSITIONS.

A DREAM.

His Lordship said that it took a long time for a moral position to find its way across the Atlantic. He was sorry that its voyage had been so long, etc.-Speech of Lord Dudley and Ward on Colonial Slavery, March 8.

T' OTHER night, after hearing Lord Dudley's oration
(A treat that comes once in the year, as May-day
does),

I dreamt that I saw-what a strange operation!
A « moral position» shipp'd off for Barbadoes.
The whole Bench of Bishops stood by, in grave attitudes,
Packing the article tidy and neat ;-

As their Rev'rences know, that in southerly latitudes
« Moral positions » don't keep very sweet.
There was Bathurst arranging the custom-house pass;
And, to guard the frail package from tousing and
routing,

There stood my Lord Eldon, endorsing it « Glass,» Though-as to which side should lie uppermost

doubling.

The freight was, however, stow'd safe in the hold; The winds were polite, and the moon look'd romantic,

While off in the good ship the Truths we were roll'd, With our ethical cargo, across the Atlantic.

Long, dolefully long, seem'd the voyage we made;For the Truth,» at all times but a very slow sailer, By friends, near as much as by foes, is delay'd,

And few come aboard her, though so many hail her. At length, safe arrived, I went through « tare and tret,» Deliver'd my goods in the primest conditionAnd next morning read, in the Bridgetown Gazette,

« Just arrived, by the Truth,' a new Moral Position!

<< The Captain»-- here, startled to find myself named As the Captain» (a thing which, I own it with pain, I, through life, have avoided), I woke-look'd ashamed-Found I was n't a captain, and dozed off again,

THE TWO BONDSMEN.

WHEN Joseph, a Bondsman in Egypt, of old,
Shunn'd the wanton embraces of Potiphar's dame,
She offer'd him jewels, she offer'd him gold,

But more than all riches he valued his fame.
Oh Joseph! thou Bondsman of Greece, can it be
That the actions of namesakes so little agree?
Greek Scrip is a Potiphar's lady to thee,
When with 13 per cent. she embellish'd her charms,
Didst thou fiy, honest Joseph? Yes-into her arms.
Oh Joseph dear Joseph! bethink thee in time,
And take a friend's counsel, though tender'd in rhyme.
Refund, « honest» Joseph: how great were the shame,
If, when posteriority sits on thy name,

They should sternly decree, 'twixt your namesake and

you,

That he was the Christian, and thou wert the Jew.

1 Remote posterity-a favourite word of the present AttorneyGeneral's.

REFLECTIONS.

SUGGESTED BY A LATE CORRESPONDENCE ON THE CATHOLIC QUESTION.

Poor Catholics, bitter enough,

Heaven knows, are the doses you 've taken;
You've swallow'd down LIVERPOOL'S Stuff,
His nonsense of ether, « well shaken ;»
You've borne the mad slaver of LEES,
And the twaddle of saintly Lord LORTON;
But-worse, oh ye gods, than all these-
You've been lectured by Mr Sec. HORTON!
Alas for six millions of men!

Fit subjects for nought but dissection,
When HORTON himself takes the pen,

To tell them they 've lost his protection!

Ye sects, who monopolise bliss,

While your neighbours' damnation you sport on,

Know ye any damnation like this

To be cut by the Under Sec. HORTON?

CROCKFORDIANA.

EPIGRAMS.

Mala vicini pecoris contagia lædunt.

J.

WHAT Can those workmen be about?
Do, CROCKFORD, let the secret out,

Why thus your houses fall.-
Quoth he, «Since folks are not in town,
I find it better to pull down,

Than have no pull at all.»

2.

SEE, passenger, at CROCKFORD's high behest,
Red coats by black-legs ousted from their nest,-
The arts of peace o'ermatching reckless war,
And gallant Rouge undone by wily Noir.

3.

Impar congressus――

FATE gave the word-the King of dice and cards
In an unguarded moment took the Guards;
Contrived his neighbours in a trice to drub,
And did the trick by-turning up a Club.

4.

Nullam simile est idem.

'Tis strange how some will differ-some advance
That the Guards' Club-House was pull'd down by chance;
While some, with juster notions in their mazard,
Stoutly maintain the deed was done by hazard.

LINES WRITTEN IN ST STEPHEN'S CHAPEL, AFTER THE DISSOLUTION.

BY A MEMBER OF THE UPPER BENCHES.

THE King's speech toll'd the Commons' knell,
The House is clear'd, the chair vacated,
And gloom and loneliness now dwell

Where Britain's wise men congregated.
The gallery is dark and lone,

No longer throng'd with curious folk, Happy to their good half-crown pay

To hear bad speeches badly spoke. The Treasury seats no placemen show, Clear'd is each Opposition bench;

And even never-ending Joe

No longer cries-« Retrench! retrench!»

Fred. Robinson no more his skill
Employs in weaving speeches fair,
The country gentlemen to fill
With promises as thin as air.

1. Really the Hon. Member for Montrose should take a little breath; his objections are most unfair; and what is worse, they are never-ending.-See the Chancellor of the Exchequer's speech in reply to Mr Hume, Feb. 23, 1826.

Dick Martin now no plan proposes

To aid the brute part of the nation,
While Members cough and blow their noses,
To drown his most humane oration.
Good Mr Brogden, where art thou,
Most worthy-Chairman of Committees ?
To strip one laurel from thy brow
Would surely be a thousand pities.

'T was a good joke, forsooth, to think
Thou shouldst give up thy honest winnings,
And thereby own that thou didst wink,
Pure soul! at other people's sinnings.'
Where's Holmes, Corruption's ready back,
Who life and credit both consumes
In whipping in the Treasury pack,

And jobbing in committee-rooms ??

I look around-no well-known face
Along the benches meets my eye-
No Member « rises in his place,»

For all have other fish to fry.
Not one is left of King and sages,
Who lately sat debating here;
The crowded hustings now engages
Their every hope and every fear.
Electors, rally to the poll,

And Lord John Russell never heed: Let gold alone choice control,

your

« The best man's he who best can bleed.3

But if, too timid, you delay,

(By Bribery Statute held in awe),

Fear not-there is a ready way

To serve yourselves and cheat the law.
In times like these, when things are high,
And candidates must be well fed,
Your cabbages they'll freely buy,

Kind souls! at two pounds ten a-head.4 Thus may we hope for many a law,

And many a measure most discreet, When-pure as even the last we saw

Britain's new Parliament shall meet.

Then haste, ye Candidates, and strive
An M. P. to your names to tack,
And-after July twenty-five-5

Collective wisdom-welcome back!

་

Mr Brogden said « be certainly should not refund the money. cause, by so doin, he should convict himself.--See the Report of i Meeting of the Proprietors of the Arigna Mining Company.

The barefaced system of voting at private bill committees, with out having beard an iota of evidence for or against, forms a distin guished feature in the history of the late parliament.

3 A maxim which has been pretty well acted on in the present elections.

4. During the election at Sudbury, four cabbages sold for 14 and a plate of gooseberries fetched 251., the sellers where these art cles were so scarce being voters,»-See the Times of Friday June 25 5 The day on which the writs are returnable, and the new pariiament is to meet pro forma.