Parson Ker! parson Ker! yes he was in there-
The State's getting fond of the Church;
This meek politician put up a petition
That Jackson be left in the lurch.

Richmond town, Richmond town were there to look down

On the things that were speaking and writing, And some in the lobby, got up on their hobby, That is they went fairly to fighting.

Little Frank! little Frank! they gave the first rank,
And the chair of the speaker he took;

But 'tis said, entre nous, he once hated John Q—,
Think of that! think of that master Brooke!

Bob Taylor! Bob Taylor! that eloquent railer,
Cut a splash in this Adams divan;

But if proverbs be true, no harm it will do-
Nine tailors it takes to a man.

Ned Colston! Ned Colston! whose nick-name is roll

stone,

Like Sysiphus labor'd amain;

With a very good will, he'd been working up hill,

And was ready to do so again.

Sam Blackburn! Sam Blackburn said no man should

backturn;

Who once had put hand to the plough;

And his terrible eyes, he threw up to the skies,

And shook like a lion his pow.

Chap Johnson! Chap Johnson! why he's Monsieur Tonson,

Oh yes he's their Magnus Apollo !

From a whisper so small, none heard it at all,

He gave them a Stentor-like halloo.

Now between you and I, there were many small Fry, Whose names 'twould be needless to mention ; What Johnson would halloo, they seem'd all to swallow, They came with no other intention.

What a dust! what a dust! this assembly august!
Will raise in this ancient Dominion;

They have in their crowns, more wisdom, by zounds!
Than is in thy pandects, Justinian!

Jackson's gone, Jackson's gone, to all be it known-
Let me cry like Æneas-infandum!-
They made out a ticket, and up they will stick it,
And throw out a tub, ad captandum.

By some hocus pocus, I hope 'tis to joke us,
Their list makes a wonderful show-

Yes, gentlemen, damn me! they've taken our Jamie,
And followed him up with Monroe.

Rhyming lad, rhyming lad, you'll make people mad,
You'd better be reading your Bible;
Oh no you've forgot, 'tis adjudged, is it not,
That truth is by no means a libel.

The Meeting of Congress.

Sound the trumpet!-beat the drum!-
To Congress come, to congress come;
All is bustle and busy hum,

And pens are nibbing on ev'ry thumb

Come to the Congress, come.

All who rise to the top like scum-
All who intend to speak us dumb-
And all who mean to sit quite mum,
From ev'ry quarter, come, oh come-

Come to the Congress, come.

Chief of the Nullifiers! Hayne!
Soil'd with dust of the southern plain,

Come once more, with your might and main,

Grapple the giant again-again

Come to the Congress, come.

Triton amongst the minnows small!
Spouting away upon subjects all;

Oh Daniel come to the judgment hall,
And for and against the Tariff, bawl-

Come to the Congress, come.

Star of the South! McDuffie! come,
Shed us some light on the "Puzzling sum,”
Tell not in Gath, that it struck thee dumb,
But cudjel thy brains and thy noddle strum—
Come to the Congress, come.

Men of Georgia! ho all

ye

Who sigh for the land of the Cherokee,

Wirt threatens you, sirs, with a writ, we see,
But Gilmer dares him to "Snick and Snee"

Come to the Congress, come,

Come old Tristram Shandy, come,
Hotter than hot New England rum;
Burgess thou art, and a burgess grum,
Lather away as you have done, some-

Come to the Congress, come.

Hero of East Room memory! haste
By bloodhound Barton no longer chased,
Come with your bills of the Western Waste,
There, your affections seem wholly placed-
Come to the Congress, com

Sons of the old Dominion! run,

The Rights of the States are all undone,

Fire your brutum fulmen gun,

"Twill make of us a figure of fun

Come to the Congress, come.

Tariff and Anti-tariff too!
Ye who the living Morgan slew;
Anti-masons and Workies! you
With every color and every hue-

Come to the Congress, come.

Time would fail to summon you all
From Passamaquoddy to Anthony's fall,
From Mexico's bay to the grand canal-
Sed genus omne! the great and the small-

13

Come to the Congress, come.

Bring with you, gentlemen, endless plans
To get our money and get our lands;
The giants must lend you a hundred of hands
And Pactolus roll for you gold on the sands-

Come to the Congress, come.

To meet them, Old Hickory! stand to your arms
Rock of our strength! the thought of you charms—
A Veto on all which would bring on us harms!!
And a National heart which with love of thee warms!!
Look to the Congress, look.

CANZONET TO JOHNNY.

Imitation of Canzonet to Sally.-By J. Q. ADAMS.

You, John, who have been President,
Of these, our states united,
Should, with that glory, be content,
Nor let your fame be blighted,
By showing still your "frosty pow,"
Which wants a place serener,

In Congress Hall, where many a row
Disgraces that arena.

What, though you fling your firebrand,
By solar light or candle,

And grasp petitions in your hand,
And many hatfuls handle,
You can but gain the poor renown,
If you should out-debate us;
Of burning Dian's temple down,
Like felon Erostratus.

In Abolition's fearful path,

You're treading on gunpowder,
And rousing up a storm, whose wrath,
Than thunder, will be louder-
A man, more wild, was never seen
Upon the banks of Niger,

Nor cub, more savage, bred, I ween,
Of fierce Hyrcanian tiger.

Else wherefore was it, as they tell
Of late, in Boston city,
That like hyena, or as fell,
You had no tear of pity,
For Chinese folks in ing and ong,
Eschewing opium-chewing,
But vow'd they did old England wrong
By custom of Koutouing?

Old Massachusetts never bred
An animal more rabid,

Nor one more crack'd about the head,
Nor doing things more crabbed-
No man can tell for what you pant,
Amid your noise and racket,—
I guess there's one thing yet you "want,"
Tight-lacing in straight jacket.

Oh, place me in great Washington,
That town, denied to houses,*
Where many a mighty Congress-mon
Gets drunk, when he carouses.
Still shall my Muse, an humble Miss,
Of John be always chanting,
And still the madman, Johnny, hiss,
While raving and while ranting.

MR. EDITOR.-I have felt so forcibly the moral sublimity of the scene of the Presentation of the Sword of Washington, and the Cane of Franklin, that I have made an attempt to exhibit that scene in verse. I submit it to your judgment.

THE PRESENTATION.

Say, why, in lengthen❜d line,
Hath rush'd this thronging crowd,
Up to our Hill Capitoline,

Where flags are waving proud?

* Pone sub curru nimium propinqui,
Solis in terra, "domibus negata."-HOR.