ROLLA'S ADDRESS TO THE PERUVIANS. My brave associates,-Partners of my toil, my feelings, and my fame !-Can Rolla's words add vigour to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts?—No! you have judged, as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours. They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended rule;-we, for our country, our altars, and our homes. They follow an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate; we serve a monarch whom we love, a God whom we adore. Where'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress! where'er they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship. They boast they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error :yes, they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride! They offer us their protection :-yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs-covering and devouring them! They call upon us to barter all the good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate chance of something better which they promise! Be our plain answer this: The throne we honour is the people's choice-the laws we reverence are our brave fathers' legacy-the faith we follow, teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with hopes of bliss beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this; and tell them too, we seek no change; and, least of all, such change as they would bring us! THE LAWS OF THE ROAD. The Laws of the Road are a paradox quite ; If you keep to the left, you're be sure to be right; POMPEY'S GHOST. A PATHETIC BALLAD. Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in black and white the same.-CowTER. "Twas twelve o'clock-not twelve at night, Now when a female has a call But Pompey's spirit could not come But of all unexpected things So Phoebe screamed an awful scream, White squalls will follow next. "Oh, Phœbe dear! oh, Phoebe dear! "Behind the heels of Lady Sambo "I walked while I had breath; "But that is past-and I am now "A walking after Death! "No murder, though, I come to tell, "With his round dozen, to find out "His lordship for his doctor sent, "The doctor look'd about my breast, "And sick of being dosed; "One Monday morning I gave up "My physic-and the ghost! "Oh, Phœbe dear! what pain it was "To sever every tie! "You know, black beetles feel as much "And now farewell-a last farewell! "Henceforth within my grave I 'rest; "Again farewell! my Phoebe dear! "For I must make myself as scarce "As swans of sable hue." From black to grey, from grey to nought, And, like an egg, though not so white, THE FARMER'S BLUNDER. A farmer once to London went, He comes he knocks-soon entrance gains- The steward call'd, accounts made even, "Well" quoth the squire," you now shall stay "And dine with me, old friend, to-day; "I've here some ladies wond'rous pretty, "And pleasant sparks too that will fit thee." Hob scratch'd his ears, and held his hat, And said, "No zur; two words to that; "For look, d'ye zee, when I'ze go dine "With gentlefolks zo cruel fine, "I'ze used to make (and 'tis no wonder) "In deed or word some plaguy blunder; "Zo, if your honour will permit, "I'll with your zarvants pick a bit." "No," says the squire," it shan't be done;" |