EULOGY ON LA FAYETTE.

Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.

And in this state, she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight;
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees;
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream;
Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again.

WE

EULOGY ON LA FAYETTE.-SPRAGUE.

HILE we bring our offerings for the mighty of our own land, shall we not remember the chivalrous spirits of other shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and woe? Pile to the clouds the majestic column of glory; let the lips of those who can speak well, hallow each spot where the bones of your bold repose; but forget not those who, with your bold, went out to battle.

Among these men of noble daring, there was one, a young and gallant stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills of his delightful France. The people whom he came to succor were not his people; he knew them only in the melancholy story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary wretch, striving for the spoil of the vanquished; the palace acknowledged him for its lord, and the valleys yielded him their increase. He was no nameless man, staking life for reputation; he ranked among nobles, and looked unawed upon kings. He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave to hide his cold heart; he was girdled by the companions of his childhood; his kinsmen were about him; his wife was before him.

EULOGY ON LA FAYETTE.

357

Like a lofty tree,

Yet, from all these he turned away and came. that shakes down its green glories to battle with the winter's storm, he flung aside the trappings of place and pride, to crusade for Freedom, in Freedom's holy land. He came; but not in the day of successful rebellion; not when the new-risen sun of Independence had burst the cloud of time, and careered to its place in the heavens. He came when darkness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its anger; when the plow stood still in the field of promise, and briers cumbered the garden of beauty; when fathers were dying, and mothers were weeping over them; when the wife was binding up the gashed bosom of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death-damp from the brow of her lover. He came when the brave began to fear the power of man, and the pious to doubt the favor of God.

It was then that this one joined the ranks of a revolted people. Freedom's little phalanx bade him a grateful welcome. With them, he courted the battle's rage; with theirs, his arm was lifted; with theirs, his blood was shed. Long and doubtful was the conflict. At length, kind Heaven smiled on the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane were driven from the temple of Liberty, and, at her pure shrine, the pilgrim warrior, with his adored COMMANDER, knelt and worshipped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an uncorrupted spirit, he at length rose, and, crowned with benedictions, turned his happy feet toward his long-deserted home.

After nearly fifty years, that one has come again. Can mortal tongue tell, can mortal heart feel, the sublimity of that coming? Exulting millions rejoice in it; and their loud, long, transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, undying, to freedom's farthest mountains. A congregated nation comes around him. Old men bless him, and children reverence him. The lovely come out to look upon him; the learned deck their halls to greet him; the rulers of the land rise up to do him homage. How his full heart labors! He views the rusting trophies of departed days; he treads upon the high places where his brethren molder; he bends before the tomb of his FATHER; his words are tears, the speech of sad remembrance. But he looks round upon a ransomed land and a joyous race; he beholds the blessings, those trophies secured, for which those brethren died, for which

358

THE FRENCHMAN AND THE PIGS.

that FATHER lived; and again his words are tears, the eloquence of gratitude and joy.

Spread forth creation like a map; bid earth's dread multitude revive; and of all the pageants that ever glittered to the sun, when looked his burning eye on a sight like this? Of all the myriads that have come and gone, what cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this? Many have struck the redeeming blow for their own freedom; but who, like this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of strangers? Others have lived in the love of their own people; but who, like this man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome with another? Matchless chief! Of glory's immortal tablets, there is one for him, for him alone! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor; the everlasting flame of liberty shall guard it, that the generations of men may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved name of LA FAYETTE.

THE FRENCHMAN AND THE PIGS.

AFRENCHMAN, in a luckless hour,

Sought shelter from a sudden shower,

Beneath a gateway, where he viewed

A sow, with all her motley brood

Of little pigs. "Aha!" quoth he;

"A colloquer diversité !

Beaucoup I do admire dese little ting,

Dey do de tought of eating bring.
En vérité, as I'm von sinner,

"Twould make von most magnifique dinner!
But den, de English law so strick,
De people hang for such a trick;
And dough de hunger, be bad ting,
It's better dat, dan take von swing.
But no one see, and if I 'scape
And no fear come to my neck cape,
O dear, 'twould be von charmant treat,
Like gourmand, roassy pig to eat."

The point thus argued, one he seized
And placed beneath his coat, well pleased.

THE ROMAN TWINS.

But piggy squeaked so long and loud,
As soon alarmed a neighboring crowd.
Swift off he ran, but closely followed
The hustling mob, which loudly halloed.
In vain, alas! was all confession,
The pig was found in his possession.
Examined straight, and guilty found
The culprit humbly bowed around,
And said, "Attendez-vous
To vot I now parlez to you.
Dis mamma pig, and children six,
Me own did my attention fix,
So to dis little pig I say,

6

'Come live vid me von month, I pray,'
Ven English me did tink he speak,
For he cried out, Aveek! Aveek!'
'O den,' say I, 'de time's but small-
I take you for a veek-dat's all."

359

THE ROMAN TWINS.-DUGANNE.

"TW

TWAS told by Roman soothsayers,
What time they read the stars,

That Romulus and Remus

Sprang from the loins of Mars. That Romulus and Remus

Were twin-born on the earth,
And in the lap of a she-wolf
Were suckled from their birth.
By Jove! I think this legend-
This ancient Roman myth-

For mine own time, and mine own clime,
Is full of pregnant pith.

Romulus stood with Remus,
And plowed the Latian loam,
And traced, by yellow Tiber,

The nascent walls of Rome;

360

THE ROMAN TWINS.

Then laughed the dark twin, Remus,
And scoffed his brother's toil,
And over the bounds of Romulus
He leaped upon his soil.
By Jove! I think that Remus
And Romulus at bay,

Of Slavery's strife and Liberty's life
Were antitypes that day!

The sucklings of the she-wolf
Stood face to face in wrath,
And Romulus swept Remus

Like stubble from his path;
Then crested he with temples

The seven hills of his home,
And builded there, by Tiber,

The eternal walls of Rome!
By Jove! I think this legend
Hath store of pregnant pith;

For mine own time and mine own clime;
"Tis more than Roman myth!

Like Romulus and Remus,
Out of the loins of Mars,
Our Slavery and our Liberty
Were born from cruel wars.
To both, the Albic she-wolf

Her bloody suck did give,
And one must slay the other,
Ere one in peace can live.
By Jove! this brave old legend

Straight to our hearts comes home--
When Slavery dies, shall grandly rise
Freedom's Eternal Rome!