Mid clashing arms, to weep the sad decease
Of all that loves, adorns, enhances, peace?

Would'st thou be praised, and patronized, unbar The brazen gates of strife, and plead for War; Defend each living statesman, mourn the dead, Prove all the blood they've lavished, justly shed. Britain of Pitt's successful * Schemes remind, And glorify the Butchers of mankind;

"That noble trade

That Demigods, and Heroes made;
Slaughter, and knocking of the head,
The trade to which they all were bred;
And is, like others, glorious when
'Tis great, and large, but base if mean;
The former rides in triumph for it,
The latter in a two-wheel chariot,
For daring to profane a thing

So sacred, with vile bungling."

These lines seem to have been suggested to Butler by the following lines of Juvenal:

“Committunt eaden, diverso Crimina fato,

Per Ille Crucem pretium Sceleris tulit, hic Diadema.” By the bye, the finest piece of Irony extant on this subject, in my humble opinion, is the life of Jonathan Wild, by Fielding. But poor Jonathan was a bungler at last. A great Man, who having cheated every other thing, cannot cheat the gallows also, has learnt but half his trade.

*These shafts are from a female quiver,

"Pallas Te hoc Vulnere Pallas."

"After obstinately persevering for fourteen years in a course of unsuccessful warfare, he dies. And leaves us with the National Debt trebled; every Port in Europe shut against us; our in

In martial strains let Buenos Ayres sound,
Tell of an Army lost! a General found!
Be Walcheren's funeral processions praised,
An expedition against Agues raised!
******* shine,

In verse at least let blushing

And round his drowsy brows the laurel twine;
All who their leader's merits might dispute,
Are, from the sword, or fiercer fever, mute.

Let others rise, I boast nor power, nor will
To prostitute, in praise of such, my quill;
Could I, with Truth's severe unflattering pen,
Expose unmasked the Fiend of War * to men,

ternal trade perishing by bankruptcies; our taxes more than trebled; our shores menaced with invasion; opportunities of of making a safe peace, all gone by.And how stands Mr. Pitt's administration the test of the Pailosopher; The tree is known by its fruits? Strange that any one should mistake the apples of the Manchineal, for the Bread Tree! O hapless England, how rapidly art thou fallen from thy late high prosperity; the victim of thy too credulous confidence in one Proud Man! whom no chastizing experience could warn from his tricking expedients, so fraught with danger to his country, and by which he only purchased, "Short intermission, fraught 'with double woe."

* The frequency and long continuance of the modern wars in which this country has been involved, may perhaps be attributed, in great measure, to the two following causes; First, the Pretext that Wars afford to the Administration for levying immense Sums of Money upon the Subject; and this to such an amount, that it may be justly suspected that Wars

Not as on prim parade he cheats the world;
But flying, snapped his lance, his standard furled;
While breathing Skeletons, and bloodless dead,
To fell Pursuers point the Road he fled;
Stripped of his Trappings, Plumes, and glittering
Gear,

Dearth in his van, Destruction in his rear;

are raised to support Taxes, rather than Taxes to support Wars. Poverty has been usually considered a Peace-maker; if so, we ought to be the most pacific Nation on Earth! The second cause is the overgrown and preposterous Salary annexed to the office of the Commander, during the continuance of the War; "Pendente Lite." The Evil of this system Government might have been taught, I presume, by the temporizing conduct of General Howe, in the American War. A Modern Fabius whose private reasons for delay were far more cogent, than his public ones. "Cunctando restituere rem." See the Anecdote of the Emperor of China and his Physicians, page 42 The moral will apply to more cases than one. I have the highest respect for Lord Wellington's talents and courage, and I believe that the acclamations of a grateful People would be considered by him as his highest reward; "Præter laudem nullius avarus ;" and yet I was sorry to see it publicly stated, that he derives solely from his office of Generalissimo in Portugal an income of Thirty Thousand per annum. If this statement be incorrect, it should be refuted; it is very bad"hoc dici potuisse," but if we are obliged to add, "et non potuisse refelli"- this is worse.

I would have every man, who undertakes so hazardous and responsible a Task as the Command of an Army, amply rewarded. But it should be after he had completed his work.

Reft of his Pomp, and fallen his famished steed,
While Vengeance follows, with the Tiger's speed;
Forsook by Friends, and hunted down by Foes,
Through Afric's sands, or Russia's solid snows,
Where erst the Czar, to cool him, tempted forth
To fight the frost, the Madman* of the North!
Could I the wasted Land a Desart show,

In nothing fertile, but in sights of woe;
Point where, behind that veil by Glory spread,
Contagion tends the dying, midst the dead,
Teach Men the Conqueror's † blood-stained name
to hate,

Ere dire experience makes them wise—too late;

* At Pultowa, Charles the twelfth experienced a terrible defeat, and lost the fruit of many splendid Victories. Peter the Great was accustomed to say, "My Brother of Sweden fancies himself an Alexander ; but he shall not find me a Darius. "They err who count it glorious to subdue By Conquest far and wide, to overrun

Large Countries, and in Field great battles win,
Great Cities by assault; what do these Worthies?
But rob and spoil, burn, slaughter, and inslave
Peaceable Nations, neighbouring, or remote,
Made captive, yet deserving freedom more
Than those their conquerors; who leave behind
Nothing but ruin, wheresoe'er they rove,
And all the flourishing Works of Peace destroy.
Then swell with Pride, and must be titled Gods!
Till Conqueror Death discovers them scarce men,
Rolling in brutish Vices, and deformed,

Violent or shameful Death, their due reward."

That Fame, doomed soon to perish, and to fade,
Unwept, 'mid ruins which itself hath made ;
Then-might I string the Minstrel's Harp, to tell
The Clash of Arms, the rushing Battle's yell;

* Mr. Scott's Flodden Field is justly considered the best description of a modern battle extant. I repeat my convictions that Mr. Scott can write better than he has hitherto done. The danger is, that he will exhaust his muse, before he finds a subject worthy of her. Mr. Scott's popularity bids fair to overwhelm us with an host of imitators. Would modern

Poetasters have the resolution to strip each thought as it arises, of every ornament of expression, dress of language, and har mony of numbers; if they would muster up courage to ask themselves these formidable questions; Is this idea just, convincing, or beautiful; is it pregnant with meaning, and is it new in its conception, if not in its application; in short, is it worth while to say it at all? If the Genus irritabile would determine to deal thus plainly with themselves, it is amazing how many good consequences would ensue. We should have very little Poetry, but that little would be good. "Pauca, sed illa Rosas." Were this plan adopted, all those who sit down suddenly to write, for the worst of all reasons, because they have nothing to do, would as suddenly, for the best of all reasons, conclude, because they have nothing to say. The next good consequence would be this, that Criticism would cease, and that Critics would be changed into useful members of Society. For these Gentlemen who give so full an account of all other Persons, but who are neither able, nor willing to give any account of themselves, would then find it necessary to comply with the pressing invitations they would receive to take a saltwater excursion in his Majesty's Navy. They might

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