believed that the once generous, magnanimous, polished, and scientific French nation could not only stoop their necks to such a bloodthirsty despot, but could place their glory in aiding him to devastate Europe, and lay its liberties under his cloven foot? The present wanton aggression of Spain, will be an eternal blot upon the French character. Spain has been, for years past, every thing that France could wish her to have been-her ally-her friend-her purse-bearer-her milch-cow-her, I may almost say, slave; for if the magnanimous Spanish nation did not bow their necks, its rulers did, and that was tantamount. What pretence, then, is there for devastating the face of her country, and making her rivers and streams flow with blood? Why, truly, to put Joey, a lawyer's clerk, on the throne of Spain? And is then the glory of France so connected with a lawyer's clerk, that her best blood-that blood which had once nobly flowed for her own independence-is to be spilt to enslave a friendly nation?---

"Who conquers, wins, by brutal strength, the prize— "But 'tis a glorious work to civilize:"

TICKELL.

Yes, France, inglorious France, having lost all her trade, manufactures, and commerce, and submitted to the yoke of a foreign upstart, would rejoice, in order to cover its own ignominy, to see the universe brought under the same disgraceful subjection, and to have the honor of being the first of slaves.—Can Frenchmen be so blind to their own real condition, when

"The den's confinement, and the slavish chain,
"And roar to get their liberty again —?”

CREECH'S LUC,

They may boast in the bulletins of deeds which, at a future period, they will wish could be for ever blotted from the annals of European history; but all their impostures. cannot conceal from the world the ignominious marks on their necks of their oppres

sor's galling chain.-Their situation is so exactly like that of a dog-but stay—we will have the story in verse, if our Pegasus be not as foundered as a certain ex-chancellor of the treasury, and lord high chancellor, who, it is said, are so greased in the heels for want of exercise, as to have lost their stomachs for hopping, ever since they hopped out of office.

THE CUR AND MASTIFF:

AN ALLEGORICAL FABLE.

A GALLIC CUR So savage grew,
At ev'ry pair of heels he flew;
Ne'er was there such a curst dog!

His master e'en was not secure-
So muzzled him, to make things sure,
And made him wear a huge clog.

But as the Gallic custom is
Disgrace to hide with lofty phys,

Loth to betray their mischance;
So cur, no less a fool than devil,
To other dogs scorns to be civil,

And bids them keep their distance.

The canine race each other jog,

To see the muzzle, chain, and clog,

With laughter nearly choking: But still the vicious cur they fear,

Though trammel'd worse than dancing bear, And dread to pay for joking.

Encourag'd by their slavish fears,

The cur resum'd his wonted airs,

And cried: "Vive mon bon maitre!

"Of all men he be le plus grand, "And I'm his dog-so allemand! "Who bows not is un traitre.

"Le maitre grand-le chien grand, "We make de world dance saraband, ye drive sheep before ye:

"As "No man and dog dis world did see,

"Arrive at such a pitch as we, "Of human, canine glory.

"Behold! dis chain, and dis medaille,
"Distinguish me from de canaille,
"And speak de wearer's bonheur :
"For laurels, which my brows bedeck,
"These emblems mark, about my neck,

"La Legion de Honneur.

"Mon maitre and moi, nous reglons the roast,—" Bl-t you! sneak off, and cease your boast-"

Roars out an ENGLISH MASTIFF:

"We see how painfully you jog,

"Beneath that muzzle, chain, and clog,

"Fit punishment for caitiff."