The Sun.
London, England, 1856-04-24 00:00:00

TO THE EDITOR OF THE SIM.

Sut,—Horace says, " Indignatio facit versus." The
Peace has irritated ma at least into the attempt. You
consider the Peace a swindle : I share your opinion.
Should the accompanying lines suit your paper they are at

your service. A CONSTANT READER.
Edinburgh, 22d April.

" I dreamt"—against a worn and shrinking foe
Fall-armed I stood, in vigour of my strength,
With realy hand upraised to strike—when lo I
Before me came a vision fair, with length
Of snowy robes around her, in whose hand
An olive branch, and from whose month command
Went forth, "To strive no more, for she was Peace."
In truth, a Goddess fair to look upon,
Bright as the spring when wintry tempests cease,
And freshest flowers the mantling of her throne.
And yet I did mistrust her, for her eyes
Looked not on mine, and ever and anon
Behind her garment faces seemed to rise
That mock'd at me ;—but many friends around,
With many words, gave counsel, and proclaimed
" 'Tis Peace ! most honourable Peace!" And so,
I know not how, nor sword nor shield I found,
Nor more my trusty armour clasp'd me round,
But, scatter'd wide, lay rusting on the ground;
And I, defenceless, sorrowed not nor wept—
For war is grievous even with success--
But near me as that gracious Goddess crept
I laid me down upon her lily lap—and slept :
Not long—for as from Afric's desert Bands;
A blasting vapour o'er my eyelids swept ;
And as I ope'd them, like to burning brands
Tho eyes of that false phantom glared on me,
And all her form, grown horrible as hell,
Instinct with flame, devoured me where I lay.
In vain I strove, and would have fled away.
She would not yield, nor would release her prey,
But like a bold adultress held me fast,
And on her front I road her new name- Wlw.
And now, as herds which shun the stricken deer,
My friends fell from me, or with gibe and jeer
Scoffed at my prayer ;—whilst, hastening from afar,
That once worn foe, refresh'd, and for the past
Revengeful, now with many a ruthless stroke
So urged his base success, that aid was none
To help my wretchedness. Undone ! undone
In grief and shame, my life-blood ebbing fast,
" War ! War !" I heard the mighty shout arise ;
War ! War ! it shook through all the echoing skies ;
War ! War ! Oh God ! to perish thus at last !
And from that sleep unblest, with long, last scream,
I, struggling, woke—and lo ! it was no dream.
J. W. P.

A SONG FOR THE TIMES.

Humpty, dumpty, Finality John,
Aberdeen and Palmerston,
Aaal the German shadow behind the Throne,
Have sold poor Britons, every one.
Every one, every one,
Have sold us Britons every one.
The wars are o'er, and peace is come,
Signed and sealed by Clarendon;
Poor John Bull has nothing to say,
But open his purse and the piper pay.
The piper pay, the piper pay,
But open his purse and the piper pay.
We're all to have a holiday,
An Illumination, too, they say--
Rockets and crackers, and what not—
For the patch'd up-truce that we've got.
We have got, we have got,
Nor the patch'd up peace that we have got.
Illuminate—to please the Queen
For giving honours to Aberdeen
And the German paupers about the throne,
Who suck the marrow from our bone.
From our bone, from our bone,
Whe suck the marrow from our bone.
Illuminate—to please the Whigs,
Who on John Bull do run suck rigs;
A. dozen families, at most,

Rob and rule Old England's Roast.
England's Roast, England's Roast.
Rob and rule Old England's Roast.
Illuminate—for each M.P.'
Who crouch and cringe to Germany— •
Fasten each ono in a cucking-stool,
And souse thorn into a slimy pool.
A slimy pool, a slimy pool,
And souse them into a slimy pooL
Illuminate—for Lord Look-on—[Lucan]
Ilia brother chips, proud Cardigan
And the Royal Duke the valiant three
That ran away from the Crimea.
From the Crimea, from the Climax,
That ran away from the Crimea.
Illuminate—for poor John Bull
The German paupers do so gull ;
They've caught him now, just like a rat,
In a Loop°ld.-Coburg-Gorman trap.
German trap, German trap,
In a Leopold-Coburg-German trap.
Illuminate—for Cliquot's son,
Who the Princess Royal's hand has won—
With a handsome dowry, t)o, I hear,
Of seventy thousand pounds a-year.
Pounds a-year, pounds a year,
Of seventy thousand pounds a-year.
Illuminate—for those at Kars,
Who fell by famine in the wars—
Starv'd to death by an arrogant fool,
Who had become a Russian tool.
A Russian tool, a Russian tool,
Who had become a Russian tool.
Illuminate—for Han° Udi ;
Where defenceless sailors shad their blood
In a treacherous massacre,
Done by the bloodhounds of the Czar. -
Of the Czar, of the Czar,
Done by the bloodhounds of the Ca:tr.
Illuminate—for It-a-ly
Poland sold, and Hungary—
That the Cossacks of the Don
Another war may carry on.
Carry on, carry on,
Another war may carry on.
Illuminate--indeed I won't ;
My brother slaves, I pray you don't
Light so much as a farthing dip,
Or make a blaze with a resin chip.
Resin chip, resin chip,
Or make a blaze with a tary chip.
Darken your windows, and go to bed—
Think on brave soldiers that are dead—
, Betray'd and sold by Aberdeen—
Starv'd and mnrder'd by routine.
By routine, by routine,
Murder'd by red tape and routine.
Liverpool, April 23. DOWB.