The weekly north Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1857-1867, 1865-03-08

How few are those In rpened years
In LIES great war, mid hopes and fears,
The patrons of our smiles or tears,
Who've not been made to keenly feel
The pride and insolence of Office,
The hate of lords of woods and coppice,
The intolerance rife In gown and surplce
Or Mammon's golden heeli
An Inherent bent of human nature,
Which tempts the strong to crush tho weaker;
Possessing no redeeming feature
Il love of power-the thirst for sway.
An imperial passion in every age,
History proves from page to page
Ambitions wars, with derceness rage,
And Might makes man it, prey.
When man succumbs to vile ambition,
And yields his heart with full submiasion,
With clanking chains Of fell perdition
His soul In darkness sleeps.
An adept soon In willy shirks
He charms his foe with smiles and smirks
While base deceit In bis bosom Turks,
And dire revenge but sleeps.
In search Of prey, with hideous howl,
The crouching Tiger, with hungry growl,
And dreaded Lions nightly prowl:
Man preys upon his brother; ~
with wiles and snares or deadly strife,
TO reach his aim he'll take life,
Ambition's mottos "War 70 the knife,''
TIL one subdue the other.
In noted city Of the West,
Where honest men are In request,
Where knaves and thieves faunt In thier best,
And revel in their glory;
There dwells man Of peacock fame
Void both Of honor and of shame
A greater tyrant you cannot name,
In ancient rhyme or story.
Search through all historic pages
OF savans late or ancient sages
In the Iron, Nass or Golden ages,
Or the greenback age of splendor;
In vain you'd look for one in power
In palace, hall or embattled tower
Whose manhood could descend much lower,
Than he-this vain pretender.
In vain conceit and pride he dwells
He tries to ape the city swells,
His charity is bitter sop;
In fashions garb and style complete
With fiery whiskers trimmed 20 neat
He stalks and struts along the street
A selfadmiring fop.
With little rule, . little sway, he feels it,
Gives a command, and seals It
With frown, telling you "he means it,
"And If you fail he'll make you rue it,"
To find fault and closely scan it
To hear feud and slyly fanit
Or drink glass If others ''stand it,"
He's just the man to do 1t.
Behold, % he sits in his chair of state
And with knitted brow essays to make
His clerks with fear and trembling wake,
As he gives each stern command:
"Come here! Go there! but stay,
What are you doing now, prayi
You do nothing right, it is always the way,
Answer me sirrah, dcmandv
Thus he finds fault from day to day,
And what .mhitt.rs his iron sway,
His awkward blunders he's sure to lay
On others all the blame.
With ungracious sneers and foul abuse,
His choice Of language the most refuse
OF Billingsgate well-known shrews,
Or Amazons Of equal fame.
So absorbed in self, he cannot feel
An interest in the common veal,
But treats with scorn, the mute appeal
OF misery and Of want.
Obsequiously he kneels at Mammon's shrine,
Branding poverty a. henious crime,
Yet Pharisee-like, publicly gives his dime,
With sanctimonious cant.
Is the theory new to the human race,
That virtue in Office is out of place,
Or reward for merit, merits disgrace;
No! for mems actions daily provo
To every comprehensive mind
That where vice and interest are combined,
Man to the golden rule IL blind,
And defes the God Of Love. G.