Picture 8."Born of a race where thrift, with iron rod,
Taught punic faith and mocked the laws of God;
*********
His youth drank in the lessons of his race,
Which stamp'd their impress on his hideous face."
[Page 11].
This single crime will fix a beastly name,
Fresh in immortal infamy and shame.
Whence comes his martial fame, who thus has soar'd,
While thousands fell and deadly cannon roar'd?
The raw militia of his native State
Had taught him war and made our hero great.
A pot-house soldier, he parades by day,[See picture 1]
And drunk by night, he sighs the foe to slay;
In vision sees the future road to fame,
The bale-fires burn and cities wrapped in flame:
The gathered treasure of a teeming land
Glitters and falls beneath his blood-stained hand;
Plantations smiling, palaces all bright,
Stuff'd with their wealth of plate, dance to his sight,
And drunken Polyphemus [3] grimly swoons,
Picture 9."But Io Bacche! Victory comes at last—
Our doughty chief in New Orleans is cast;
The donkey stole the lion's skin and brayed,
And Farragut our Cyclop's fortune made."
[Page 23].
As heir expectant of unnumbered spoons. [4]
He wakes a patriot; presto, he is clad[See picture 2]
As Fallstaff for the battle—raving mad.
Lo! Baltimore becomes the first emprise,
When Gilmor's scandal shock'd the men at Guy's:
"To horse, to horse," our hero drunk exclaims,
"I'll crush rebellion—give the town to flames."
The faithful groom the pawing steed attends,[See picture 3]
The maudlin Cyclops all oblique ascends;
But ere the lambent flames consume the town,
The Cid unhorsed, like Bacchus, topples down.
Old Juno's goose erst saved imperial Rome,
But Rebel whisky saves the Rebels' home.
Next comes the dismal order—'tis from Scott—