"But canst thou marvel that, free born,
With heart and hope unquell'd,

Throne, crown, and sceptre I should scorn,
By thy permission held ?

Or that I should retain my right,

Till wrested by a conqueror's might?

"Rome, with her palaces and towers,
By us unwish'd, unreft,

Her homely huts and woodland bowers
To Britain might have left :
Worthless to you their wealth must be,
But dear to us, for they were free!

I might have bow'd before-but where
Had been thy triumph now?
To my resolve no yoke to bear
Thou owest thy laurell'd brow:
Inglorious victory had been thine,
And more inglorious bondage mine.

"Now I have spoken, do thy will;
Be life or death my lot,

Since Britain's throne no more I fill,
To me it matters not;

My fame is clear; but on my fate

Thy glory or thy shame must wait."

He ceased. From all around upsprang
A murmur of applause;

For well had Truth and Freedom's tongue
Maintain'd their holy cause :

The conqueror was their captive then-
He bade the slave be free again.

THE ONE-LEGGED GOOSE.

A WEALTHY gentleman of Hertfordshire,
Not troubled with an overplus of brains,
Like many a worthy country squire,

Whose craniums give them very little pains,

Anon.

Liv'd quietly upon his own estate :
He was a bachelor, but whether that
Argues in favour of his understanding,
Ör militates against it, is a question
That I would wish to have no hand in,
But leave it to your cool digestion.
He ne'er perplexed his pate
With the affairs of state,

But led a calm domestic life,

Far from the noise of town and party strife.
He loved to smoke his pipe with jovial souls,
Prided himself upon his skill at bowls,
At which he left his neighbour in the lurch;
On Sundays, too, he always went to church
(As should each penitential sinner),

Took, during service-time, his usual snore,
And gave his sixpence at the door,

And then walk'd comfortably home to dinner.
As there are many, I dare say,

Who into such affairs have never look'd,

I think I'd better mention, by the way,

That dinners, ere they're eaten, should be cook'd!

At least our squire's were so before he took 'em,
And consequently he'd a cook to cook 'em.

Now, as I shall have work enough

For this most gracious queen of kitchen-stuff,
It may not be amiss to tell you, that
(Of lusty beauty quite a masterpiece)

This modern maid of Fat

Surpass'd the famous ancient dames of Greece.
Of course, then, she had lovers plenty-

Aye, that she had, sir, nearly twenty!

But none did she so doat upon

As our squire's lusty gard'ner, John.

It chanc'd one year, as almanacks can tell,

St. Michael's day on Sunday fell;

The squire the night before, as was his use,

Gave Peggy orders to procure a goose;

Then went to church next morning cheerfully,
And order'd dinner to be done by three.
'Twas half-past two, the cloth was laid,
Peggy the apple-sauce had made,

The bird was done, and she for master wishing,

When, lo, attracted by the luscious gale,
And somewhat elevated with strong ale,
John popp'd into the kitchen.

"What, cookee, got a goose! Well, come, that's nice: Faith, cookee, I should like to have a slice.

And apple-sauce, too! There's a darling Peg!

Do take a knife, and cut me off a leg.'

"Cut off a leg! that would be pretty fun;

What, serve it up to squire with only one?"

"Aye, to be sure; why, master dursn't kill you;
I'll cut it off." "Have done with you now, will you?"
What arguments he used I cannot say ;

But Love, whose sceptre's all-commanding sway
Cookmaids, as well as countesses obey,
Ordain'd it so, that, spite of all her reasoning,
John stole the leg, with lots of sauce and seasoning.
Though Peg, poor wench! was rather vex'd
At this unlooked-for sad disaster,

She was not quite so much perplex'd

As you may think; she had been used to gull
The squire, and knew the thickness of his skull;
And consequently to this conclusion fell,

They who could do a goose so well

Would not be troubled much to cheat her master. Home came the squire, to the moment true,

And rang for dinner in a hurry;

She browned the mutilated side anew,
And put it on the table in a flurry.
Soon as it met his eye, the squire
Exclaim'd, with wonderment and ire,
"Why, what on earth do you call this, Peg?
Zounds, huzzy! where is t'other leg?"
Peg curtsied and replied in modest tone,
"An't please you, sir, it never had but one!"
"Only one leg! where did you buy it, pray?"
"At Farmer Bumpkin's, sir, across the way;
And if to-night, sir, you will go with me,
I'll pledge my life that you shall see

A number of the farmer's geese

Which, like this bird, have only one a-piece."
"Well, prove it, and that alters quite the case;
But if you don't, mind, you shall lose your place."
He ate his dinner, and began to doubt it,

And grumbled most terribly about it.

The place was brown'd, like all the rest, he saw ;
"Confound it, she surely never ate it raw !"
Ev'ning arrives, Peg puts her bonnet on,
And with her master to the farm is gone;
With expectation big they softly creep
Where Farmer Bumpkin's geese are fast asleep.
Now to your recollection I would bring,
That when these pretty creatures go to roost
They draw up one leg close beneath their wing,
And stand upon the other like a post.

-66

There, sir," cries Peg, now pray, sir, cease your pother; There, sir, there's one; and there, sir, is another!" "Pooh, nonsense, stuff!" exclaims the squire. "Now look ye: St, st-there, now, they've got two legs, cookee." "Aye, sir," cried Peg, "had you said that at home, Nor you, nor I, had e'er had cause to roam; But recollect, sir, ere you think I'm beaten, You didn't say st, st, to the one you've eaten."

Anon.

MAN'S THREE GUESTS.

A KNOCKING at the castle gate,
When the bloom was on the tree,
And the youthful master, all elate,
Himself came forth to see.

of

yore

A jocund lady waited there,
Gay was her robe, of colours rare,
Her tresses bright to the zephyr streamed,
And the car on its silver axle gleamed,
Like the gorgeous barge of that queen
Whose silken sail and flashing oar
Sparkling Cydnus proudly bore.
The youth, enraptured at the smile,
And won by her enchanting wile
And flatteries vain,

Welcomed her in, with all her train,
Placing her in the chiefest seat,
While as a vassal at her feet

He knelt, and paid her homage sweet..

She decked his halls with garlands gay,
Bidding the sprightly viol play,
Till by magic power

Day turned to night and night to day,
For every fleeting hour

Bowed to Pleasure as its queen.

And so that syren guest, of mirthful mien, Lingered till the vernal ray,

And summer's latest rose had sighed itself away.

A knocking at the gate! And the lordling of the hall,

A strong and bearded man withal,
Held parley at the threshold-stone
In the pomp of his estate.

And then the warder's horn was blown,
The ponderous bolts drawn one by one,
And slowly in, with sandals tcrn,
Came a pilgrim, travel-worn;

A burden at his back he bare,
And coldly said, "My name is Care!"
Plodding and weary years he brought,
And a pillow worn with ceaseless thought;
And bade his votary ask of Fame,
Or Wealth, or wild Ambition's claim,
Payment for the toil he taught.

But dark with dregs was the cup he quaff'd,

And 'mid his harvest proud

The mocking tare looked up and laugh'd

Till his haughty heart was bow'd,

And wrinkles on his forehead hung, and o'er his path

a cloud.

Again, a knocking at the gate

At the wintry eventide;

And querulous was the voice that cried, "Who cometh here so late?"

"Ho! rouse the sentinel from his sleep, Strict guard at every loop-hole keep! And "

man the towers!" he would have said,
But alas! his early friends were dead,
And his eagle glance was awed,
And a frost that never thaw'd
Had settled on his head.