If he be poor, and yet has striven To ease the load of human care; If to the famish'd he has given One loaf that it was hard to share; If, in his poverty erect, He never did a deed of shame, Fill high! we'll drain in deep respect A bumper to his name. But rich or poor, if still his plan Has been to play an honest part; If he ne'er failed his word to man, Or broke a trusting woman's heart; To snatch the meed of virtuous fame; THE DREAM OF THE REVELLER. CHARLES MACKAY. AROUND the board the guests were met, The lights above them beaming, And in their cups, replenish'd oft, Their cheeks were flushed, their eyes were bright, I drained a goblet with the rest, Let us be happy for to-day What care we for the morrow?" And slumber deep came o'er me, Methought I saw a demon rise: He held a mighty bicker, Whose burnished sides ran brimming o'er All those oppress'd by grief or debt, Blear-eyed old men and reckless youths, And palsied women crazy; "Give, give!" they cried, "give, give us drink, To drown all thought of sorrow; If we are happy for to-day, We care not for to-morrow! The first drop warmed their shivering skins, And drove away their sadness; The second lit their sunken eyes, And filled their souls with gladness; The third drop made them shout and roar. And play each furious antic; The fourth drop boiled their very blood; And the fifth drop drove them frantic: "Drink!" said the demon, "drink your fill! Drink of these waters mellow ! They'll make your eye-balls sear and dull, Though virtue sink, and reason fail, I'll be your friend in hour of need, To lodge at last each jolly soul, Who all his life carouses. The first it is a spacious house, The second is a lazar house, Pine on a conch of sadness, The third and last is black and high, Where death-doomed felons languish; But well he knew-that demon old- Even as they heard his fearful words, They cried, with shouts of laughter, "Out on the fool who mars to-day We care not for thy houses three; And merry will we make it yet And quaff our bumpers pleasant." Loud laughed the fiend to hear them speak, And lifting high his bicker, Body and soul are mine," said he; "I'll have them both for liquor' AM MONG all nations in which poetry has been cultivated, song writers have ever found abundance of exercise in their vocation in adapting to music the expression of moral sentiment, or in making the satire of manners more agreeable, more popular, and more permanently useful, by the union of poetry and music. Some of the most beautiful songs in the English language belong to this class, and there has been no song-writer worthy of the name who has not occasionally forsaken the amatory, convivial, or patriotic departments of his art-long erroneously considered by false critics to be the only legitimate spheres of song-to praise virtue, to condemn vice, to hold folly up to ridicule, and to depict the good or ill manners of society. The songs of this description are exceedingly numerous, and are of every degree of merit and demerit, ranging from the broadest comedy to the seriousness of the sermon, and even of the hymn. The vanity of human life; the instability of greatness; the charms of friend ship; the pleasures of temperance; the blessings of a contented mind; the consolations of old age, and a thousand similar topics, are true sources of inspiration for the lyrist; while subjects of more public interest-the growth or decay of national virtue, and the condition, hopes, aspirations, and fears of the people in general, or of large and important sections of them, afford in like manner abundant opportunities for the moral or satirical song writer. "Poets," as Mr. Emerson finely and truly says, 66 'should be lawgivers that is, the boldest lyric inspiration should not chide or insult, but should commence and lead the civil code and the days work." It was in reference to this class of songs that Fletcher, of Saltoun, uttered the famous dictum-not his own- on the importance of song-writing. In his "Account of a conversation concerning the right regulation of Governments for the common good of mankind," he complains that "the poorer sort of both sexes are daily tempted to all manner of wickedness by infamous ballads sung in every corner of the streets. I knew," he adds, a very wise man that believed if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation. And we find that most of the ancient legislators thought they could not well reform the manners of any city without the help of a lyric, and sometimes of a dramatic poet." The extension of education and the triumphs of the printing press have rendered the labours of the moral and satirical song writers of less value than in the time of the ancient legislators, or than in those times, comparatively recent, when Fletcher of Saltoun wrote; but even in our day, a false error may be propped up by a song, and a great truth advanced by the same agency. So that the dictum still retains a portion of its ancient value. The moral and satirical songs are here included together; for if satire be not moral it is an abuse; and the lessons of morality have often a better chance of being effective, if sharpened by judicious satire. There are vast numbers of political songs and ballads of this class, which have been produced from the days of the civil wars to our own, which would alone fill many interesting volumes- valuable for the light they would throw upon the contemporary history of the period at which they |