To lofty subjects bring the narrow view, Shift with each scene, and principle eschew. Are these the elements of man's success? Go where the busy throng all onward press; Ay, there they flourish and will long remain, Till virtue purge the haunts where vice doth reign. Not to the few the moral taint's confined, But in its boundless range infects mankind; 'Twere idle to upbraid the good old plea-- Might governs all, the rest were mock'ry. The plumpest fly a sparrow's meal provides-- The heartless bird its agony derides: "Nay," quoth relentless Sparrow, "you must die, For you, weak thing, are not so strong as I." A Hawk surprised him at his dainty meal, In vain the Sparrow gasped his last appeal; [Illustration: "The faithful groom the pawing steed attends, The maudlin Cyclops all oblique ascends; But ere the lambent flames consume the town The Cid unhorsed, like Bacchus, topples down." _Page_ 21.] "Wherefore, Sir Hawk, must I, thy victim, die?" "Peace," quoth the Hawk, "thou art less strong than I." Grimly an Eagle viewed the state of matters, Swoops on Sir Hawk, and tears his flesh to tatters: "Release me, King, and doom me not to die;" The Eagle said, "thou art less strong than I." A bullet whistled at the victor's word, And pierced the bosom of the lordly bird; "Ah, tyrant!" shrieked he, "wherefore must I die?" The Sportsman said, "thou art less strong than I." And thus the world to might becomes the dower, While justice yields before remorseless power. [Illustration: "He blew a warlike trump And marched to conquest--conquest of a pump." _Page_ 23.] When distant ages rise to view our times, Whate'er betide our _silv'ry_ flowing rhymes, The brave we sing--Boeotian of the East Will still survive to spread the mimic feast. 'Tis said in fables that Silenus old To Midas lent the fatal gift of gold; But Terminus, the god of rogues, has giv'n Our hero gold unbless'd of man or heav'n. 'Mid all the tyrants of our age and clime, He stands alone in infamy and crime; Not e'en Thersites of the cunning tribe, Gloried in guile like him we now describe. Born of a race where thrift, with iron rod, Taught punic faith and mocked the laws of God; Where stern oppression held her impious reign, And mild dissent was death with torturous pain; His youth drank in the lessons of his race, Which stamp'd their impress on his hideous face. [Illustration: "Like Fallstaff, seeks repose and dreams of glory, While Bethel's thunder peal'd another story." _Page_ 23.]