Oh! ere that day, alas, too likely! come, I would prepare your mind to meet your doom, That then the priest, who prays with that bad race Of men, may find you not devoid of grace.” These are the men who, from their seats above, Hear frequent sermons on fraternal love; 50 Nay, each approves, and answers—“Very true! Brother would heed it, were he not a Jew.” II. _P._ Read I aright? beneath this stately stone THE BROTHERS rest in peace, their grave is one! What friend, what fortune interfered, that they Take their long sleep together, clay with clay? How came it thus?— _F._ It was their own request, By both repeated, that they thus might rest. _P._ ’Tis well! Did friends at length the pair unite? Or was it done because the deed was right? 60 Did the cool spirit of enfeebling age Chill the warm blood, and calm the party rage, And kindly lead them, in their closing day, To put their animosity away, Incline their hearts to live in love and peace, And bid the ferment in each bosom cease? _F._ Rich men have runners, who will to and fro In search of food for their amusement go; Who watch their spirits, and with tales of grief Yield to their melancholy minds relief; 70 Who of their foes will each mishap relate, And of their friends the fall or failings state. One of this breed—the Jackall who supplied Our Burgess Charles with food for spleen and pride— Before he utter’d what his memory brought, On its effect, in doubtful matters, thought, Lest he, perchance, in his intent might trip, Or a strange fact might indiscreetly slip.— But he, one morning, had a tale to bring, And felt full sure he need not weigh the thing; 80 _That_ must be welcome! With a smiling face He watch’d th’ accustom’d nod, and took his place. “Well! you have news—I see it—Good, my friend, No preface, Peter! Speak, man; I attend.” “Then, sir, I’m told—nay, ’tis beyond dispute— Our Burgess James is routed horse and foot; He’ll not be seen; a clerk for him appears, And their precautions testify their fears; Before the week be ended you shall see, That our famed patriot will a bankrupt be.”— 90 “Will he, by——! No, I will not be profane, But _James_ a bankrupt! Boy, my hat and cane! No! he’ll refuse my offers—Let me think! So would I his; here, give me pen and ink! There! that will do.—What! let my father’s son, My brother, want, and I—away! and run; Run, as for life, and then return—but stay To take his message—now, away, away!” The pride of James was shaken as he read— The Brothers met—the angry spirit fled. 100 Few words were needed—in the look of each There was a language words can never reach; But, when they took each other’s hand, and press’d, Subsiding tumult sank to endless rest; Nor party wrath with quick affection strove,