Behold what a contrast is here! Two heroes gone down to decay-- The grave of the one, how deserted and drear! While the other is deck'd in its marble array And a sentinel guards it by night and by day. Oh, what was the life of the first, That in death they have left him thus lone?-- Was the crown of the Tyrant his thirst? And mounting in blood on the steps of a throne-- Had he murdered his thousands to aggrandize one? Of grandeur of soul was there none In that bosom, transform'd to the clod; The end of its government done, To abandon the lictor, the axe, and the rod, When it look'd on its nothingness--thought of its God? But see what a far different scene! The tomb of the valiant and wise! Encompass'd secure by its paling of green, And gleaming in white, as those tropical skies Beam down on the waste where St. Helena lies. Lo! numbers resort to that spot, And beauty bows too at the shrine-- Oh virtue! how envied thy lot! The grave cannot darken thy splendor divine Nor sully thy brightness, but adds to its shine. Yet CHRISTIAN!--come nearer and read, For conjecture hath led us astray-- Hast thou heard of one, false to his creed? Of a blood loving tyrant--ferocious--whose sway Was supported by rapine, while earth was his prey? 'Tis to him that these honors are paid, And his dust must be guarded--from whom? Are the terrified nations afraid Lest he yet should arise from the curse of his doom, And bursting its cerements, escape from the tomb? Ah no! he lies powerless now! But thousands would bear him afar: To this Juggernaut, long did they bow, And were abjectly crush'd by the wheels of his car, As triumphant he rode through the red fields of war. Is virtue then, nought but a name? Let us turn to the spot we have passed-- If guilt can exult in its shame, The good in his grave may be silently cast-- Abandoned--unnoticed--the scene but a waste! Yes, yes, thou art dumb with amaze-- 'Tis WASHINGTON slumbers below-- Was language too weak for HIS praise?-- Was the grief so profound, that it baffled all show, Or the feeling too deep for the utt'rance of wo? Let us hope that it was--let us trust That we honor the Friend of Mankind-- That the Corsican despot in dust, His merited meed of abhorrence shall find In the progress of truth and the march of the mind. MINERAL WEALTH OF VIRGINIA.