Yet, better for thee to be thus destroyed By thine own king than that the truculent Galls Should raise dry mounds and circles of great stones Around thee and thy running waters! He who has brought thee to this feebleness, Will soon again heal all thy wounds, So that thou shall not sorrow any more, Thou smooth and bright-walled mansion! As doth the surgeon, if he be a true one, On due examination of his patient, Thy royal chief has done by thee, Thou shield and bulwark of the race of Coffey! The surgeon, on examining his patient, Knows how his illness is to be removed, Knows where the secret of his health lies hid, And where the secret of his malady. Those members that are gangrened or unsound He cuts away from the more healthy trunk Before they mortify, and so bring death Without remead upon the sufferer. Now, thy disease is obviously the Galls, And thy good surgeon is thy chief, O’Donnell, And thou thyself, thou art the prostrate patient O, green-hued mansion of the race of Dalach! With God’s will; and by God’s permission, Thy beauty shall yet put to shame thy meanness, Thy variegated courts shall be rebuilt By that great Chief who laid thee low! As Hugh Roe, king of the Connellians Was he who laid thy speckled walls in ruins, He will again renew thy greatness, Yes, he will be thy best physician! P. * * * * * Wickedness may well be compared to a bottomless pit, into which it is easier to keep oneself from falling, than having fallen into, to stay oneself from falling infinitely.--_Sir P. Sydney._ * * * * * If there be an object truly ridiculous in nature, it is an American patriot, signing resolutions of independence with the one hand, and with the other brandishing a whip over his affrighted slaves.--_Day._ OUR SENSATIONS. FIRST ARTICLE. Man has been somewhere described as a “bundle of sensations;” and certainly if ever sensations were capable of being packed together, they would make a bundle, and a good large one too. I am not a physiologist, or even a doctor, so cannot pretend to speak very learnedly on this subject: but as we all in common have “our sensations,” he must be rather a dull fellow, I should think, who would have nothing to say when they were laid upon the table for discussion. Even if he were a Jew, he might repeat with Shylock, “Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?” and so on.