The weekly hawk-eye. [volume] (Burlington, Iowa) 1858-1860, 1859-01-04

mat maketh these the lords OF those.
Proud Southron, let this law impart
Life TO thine all too callous heart
Remember who hath given thee
The mastership and the decree
The careful gentleness that's due
The account that He will bring thee to.
But what discordant sound is this
That shrieks from the metropolis
A fight, fight hurrah, fight!
Well, It's most engaging sight!
The children Of Calliope
In such n row we seldom see.
The brewers Of the public taste
Their rancor and their pity waste,
For every ear is deafened
BY twice ten thousand roars, at least,
All owing to this foreign-bred
Young lady, risen from the east.
No wonder that the myriads. who
| Deny or praise the songstress power,
Should happen, all the trouble through,
To seem SO most exceeding sour;
For rumor, gossipy and tickle,
Strews vinegar without economy,
How many, now, are in pickle
About the lady Piccolomini?
A huge collective Samese twin
Raves the academy within;
Besides the audience gathered there,
Some wicked, ones there seem to be-
Because the audiens go to hear
The nauticuses go to see.
SO the dear people have choice
Which makes more lachrymose the case
To tolerate an ugly voice,
Or else to lose pretty face.
Shrewd Ullman, having filled his bag,
Provides a curtain and gag
Puts up. at last, his music bars,
And giveth US little rest
And thanks his toperatic) stars
He didn't come out second best
Where Erie laves the Queens domain,
There lieth deserted plain.
1t seems as if demons hand
We're laid upon the fruitless sand
Where Angels gathered, at the first,
And said, in sorrow, be accursed;
Let no grass grow, nor water run,
Nor leaves unfold them to the sun,
But ever lie an arid waste,
4 type of time and man disgraced.
Mourn as thou sees't, oh blushing verse,
The elimination of the curse;
Behold the image of our Go6,
Too vile to press common sod,
Dsgracing even that barren spot
Too dead to thriye-too dry to rot.
Sad human baseness, sadly teazcd,
Excels in vice the lowest beast.
How can our dirtiest nature move
To such a foul degeneracy
The veriest cur doth show more love,
The filthiest ape more decency:
Ink pales to spread the putrid fame,
And types are copper-faced with shame;
He'll views, aghast, such lusts of flesh,
For devils scorn such wickedness.
Joy that our glorious land imparts
Na Of 90,
Shame that so many Yankee hearts
Should hail the horror with delight
OH, Morrissey, seek not your joy
In pummelling benea.h-you boy;
Retreat, oh Heenan, to thy tent
Who fights skunk will bear the scent.
Pray, maulers, let your minds be bent,
BY strengthen philanthopic pride,
To study, by experiment,
The manlier art of suicide.
Climax of hardware, mighty wire,
That dost to endless fame aspire,
Tell US by what unhcard-of stroke
Thou scekest fortune to invoke
To initiate once more, the ocean bubble,
And raise the stock from nix to double
How earn the joy, in street and hall,
That heralded thy burial.
If every pane that held light
Upon that most obstreperous night
Could give copper, it would make
Ten times as big a water snake:
If every light fantastic toe
Then tripped, should drop nail or so,-
If every board they danced upon
OF splinters would give only one,
The nails and sticks would bridge the sea,
And rail cars rattle over thee.
| Good Cyrus of the lion heart,
Pray give the scheme another start.
But, the dear people to insure
'Gainst exultation premature,
| On July fourth bring home the cable,
That our glad nation may be able,
Dec volente, and the weather,
To greet both jollities together.
The Yankee mind, to humbug prone,
Swallows much poison of its own;
Cups, far too easily, the flyi
1t throws to catch its neighbor by.
Why can we not show some pretence
OF honesty, and common sense?
Our boasted fastness let us bury
Be fogyish, if necessary;
Check humbug's reign-the fancy steed
Is poor jade in time of need;
BE more sedate-less gaseous
Wiser, hence less ridiculous.
Oh TRIBAL uncle, thou'rt outdone
BY mere shaver, (spare the pun,
Who o er the wondering deep hath gone,
To make his fortune with pawn.
The king of chess Upon his brow
The proud crown fifty shines, ween,
For Lords before his castle bow,
And Expresses before his queen.
Bend, royal prelaie, bend the knee,
His bishop oyeroometh thee
The bravest errant, fame-bedight,
Is but squire beside his knight 8
Where e'er his quick surprises creep,
His foeman seems to be asleep
The cause Of which is clearly seen
His every movement is Morphine.
England's proud champion skulks away,
Aud runs, "to fight another day."
End not thy tournay by . game,
Oh Paul, with this poor cravcn-pate,
For thou would'st lose full half thy fame
BY closing with SO stale . mate.
Inevitable Kansas when
} Wilt thou relapse to peace again
! The riot OF thy martyrous grOans
, Will wake thy murdered dead mems bones.
. Thou'st slain thy friends-Douglas the bra
Lieth in his dishonored grave,
1 And paddy Buck, the bachelor,
Falls in the most unequal war
. English is worthless as pin,
, And Summers head 10 broken in,
> But thy insatiate avarice
Demands higher sacrifice.
. Oh thou, ill-stared sans remedy
. Thou great Pandoric misery
Intensified Aceldama-