Burlington hawk-eye. [volume] (Burlington, Iowa) 1845-185?, 1851-01-02

With broad Potomac rolling at its iert;
Columha's pride, the gorgeous dome Of State,
Where sit encrou,d hlest Fl eedom's honor'd great
Where mind with mind i'll ardent zeal contend,
Our country these and Party those defend,
Until full soon the Sovereign people fear,
The wordy storm that thunderS on their ear:
While Mississippi's son, provoked tn rage,
Hurts Honor's glai,e to stern Missouri's sage;
And thus those noble Seignors mix in fray,
nd for their valor make the people pay.
Shame on such scenes; within SO grave place
Should Honor stoop to wransle with Disgrace?
But bark what awe pervades that Hall,
AS if an earthquake rock'd
This vast stupendous terrene ball,
And all its tenants SHOCKED;
See Ashland's Chief, weigh'd down with honor't
Hang his gray head and pour the tide of tears;
But ah behold that funeral pail
Bespeaks Nations grief;
All. proclaims great TAyLoR's fall,
Columbia's valiant Chief;
But yesterday the pride of Earth,
But now how chang'd the scene!
How vain are titled name and worth,
Tho grit with Glory's sheer?
The Beggar. Prince and Monarch on his throne
Alike go footing to a world unknown.
BIZ: hear ye now in Europe's shy
DER Royal Thames amber tide,
HAyNAu, the Austrian butchers cry,
Amid proud AIbion's ancient pride.
There Johnny Bull
Gave him his .sfull''
For treating Comorns fair unciyil,
And should have sent him to the .sdivi."
See now where rolls the classic Seine,
Amid the festive wales of France,
Where happy youths the Vintage CLEAN
And Olive maidens weave the dance;
There rol'd OF yore the bloody scene,
And deadly fla h'd the Bourbon lance
But reft is now the Bourbon line;
For he the last no grac'd the throne,
Whom sunny France once thought divine,
Hath to his royal fathers gone,
And she now yields to foreign sway
Must flourish thus or pass away.
And hear DER gray Ocean, that echoing song,
The signs of whose pillows its cadence rrolong,
As sweet as the note Of some angel that sings,
AS falls his soft hand on his Harp's golden strings.
o! sweet is the spell of the voice Of the fair,
That steals to the heart on the night sleeping air;
But doubly more sweet are those tones which heal
Than ever fair mortal pour'd yet on my ear.
Ave. from the bleak cline Of the cold frigid zone,
"The Nightingale'comes DER the wind-trouhled sea
Her heart stirring silts' DER the Ocean hath flow
And thIipd long the of the fair and the free;
She comes to that city, the pride of the West.
The Mistress of Fashion, Of Science and Trade,
Where Genius is foster'd, and Poverty drest,
In the rich costly fairies her own hands have made
And Barnum is raptur'd and builds her a cage
Amia the old haunts of the Swede's early pride,
The ssNightingale'' enters the Nymrh of the stage,
And Barnnm in waiting attends by her side.
To hear the sweet throstie, now rings on the air,
For the City is mad at the 'Nghtirgais's name,
They seat the Great Hall and the Tickets prepare
And Genin stands first in the records of Fame.
What is that clamor which we hear,
That bursts in fits along the land,
Which sounds unto my listening ear,
AS some tumultuous festive band;
ContendiDg as in mortal fray,
Or force oppos'd 10 legal sway,
Would song produce in men such plight
Methousht it charm'd rude savage might.
Aye, it is clamor not from wine,
Or from the song of Swede divine,
But such as rise from passions fell,
Inspir'd by the fends of He'll.
Fann'd by the bisots purblind zeal
Such weapons as Fanatics WELD,
And thus against their Country's veal
Stand ful-elupd on Dough-!ace field.
They whet their steel DER vslor's dust
And cry .swe know a higher law"
In which we live. IN which we trust,
And dare for it our swords to draw;
For noble Afric's heel-crush'd race,
What tho they wear n so,ty face
Their hearts are red their souls arc white,
And freedom is their natural right,
And the warm South must free her slaves
Or we will tranplc on their graves,
Tear up their homes from where they lie
And let them bleach beneath the sky,
And then the Union will sunder,
Ere unto this law shall yield.
Or rive this solid globe with thunder
Unspher'd from fortress'd Dough-face-teld.
Ye Northern giants why despisc
The chains that Afric's children wear,
Beneath our sunny Southern skies
Whose clanking so disturbs your car?
he lie he If
Pour'd out on mountain, rock and food?
By those whose names we should revere
Whose memory claims the Patriots tear9
And will while Time and Ages run,
Coeval with yon blazing sun.
Boast as you may, 'tis all in vain,
We ne'er can break this Fed,ral chain;
This Union lives and meier can die
Tho oft We think its fate is seapd;
And raise not yet its funeral cry
But ground your arms on Dough-face-ie
Ifye persist by word and deed,
To rend this Fedral bond in twain;
To make this sacred Union bleed
And life from all her vitals DRAIN
'Twere better far for you to be,
thousand fathoms in the sea;
Or bound on xion's kissing wheel,
Than meet insulted Freedoms steel:
The very dust Of those who lie,
Beneath fair Freedoms guardian eye
Would re-assume human form
With soul and spirit, breathing warm,
Would roll along the struggling line
Their blood stain'd falchons noby WELD
And with force almost divine
Would fell the troops of pough-face heih.