"My imps have donn'd the human shape With intellect to fit them for

All stations in the hated world,

Or any chance that may occur ; E'en now they crowd the Halls of State, The Chair of Justice, too, they fill, The social board they also grace, All waiting but to do my will.

"This is a cunning way I have

Of making man mankind betray, I send them fiends in human shape, Who give advice, and they obey; If man knew what he was about, While passing through life's busy mart, He'd often look to see who walks Beside him, to corrupt his heart.

"You know I had some old imps here,
Who almost set my will at naught,-
Who raised such thunder 'round my throne
That oft' I've had to spoil their sport;

Well those I've sent out in the world
To sway the Spirit of the Press,
According to my wish and will,

And well they 've done it, I confess.

"Then, in the Halls of State I've placed
A man-this I could not avoid,
For he, though old, and weak, and dull,
The people's confidence enjoyed!

He in the highest Seat I've placed,
To be employed as I think best,
While I have hedged the dotard in,
By imps in ev'ry honor drest.

"Among them all a Chief I have,-
I almost envy him his fate,—

He's doomed to have such hellish fun,
And raise on earth such fiendish hate,
E'en now by his own cunning he

Has gained a place of mortal fame,
First in what they the Cab'net call;
He I now need not pause to name.

"So 'tween them all, I think I'll reach The end for which I long have toiled, I would have done it long ago,

Had Peace-the jade-my game not spoiled; I long have waited for you, Mars,

You failed me when I last did try,

But then you know that jade, 'sweet Peace,' Did not, as now, your pow'r defy!

"Therefore, I'm sure, you ready are
To give me all the help you can,
We need but here devise the way-
The work will all be done by man;
They are such fools they know not how
To prize the bliss they once enjoy,
Therefore we'll find it not so hard,
The wisest of them to decoy!

"There was a time when I despair'd
Of ever reaching such an end;
But that is pass'd-no power now
That nation's welfare can defend!
So come, Mars, with me take a sip
Of nectar, which I only make,

'Tis very pleasant to the taste,

But serves not much the thirst to slake."

Again Mars begged to be excused,
As he then thought he'd rather not;
For tho' he fancied much warm blood,
He didn't take it quite so hot!
Again old Pluto smiled and said,

""Twas strange that Mars should hesitate, For he had known him to drink blood, When it was boiling hot with hate!"

However, he excused him then,
And drank his nectar all alone,
As he in regal majesty

Sat on his smoking red-hot throne,
The imps flew 'round in gleeful trim,
And stirr'd each kettle, pot and pan,

In which old Pluto had prepared

Such broils and stews for fallen man.

And so the matter stood between,
The fiendish twain-both satisfied
That each would do all that he could,
The happy Union to divide-
Where dwelt in peace, the worthy sons
Of patriot sires-all joined as one,
Whom God had blest with every good,

That could be found beneath the sun!

But He whose gaze pervades e'en hell,
Had seen and heard all that there passed;
And said "Though you may triumph now,
Good shall prevail with man at last!"
Old Pluto heard the mighty voice,

Which shook all hell, e'en to its base e;
And as Mars fled to shun the wrath,

The Devil fell and hid his face!

Thus years rolled by-old Pluto worked,
Now quite recovered from his fright,
And Mars-his hand just to keep in-
Had now and then a gentle fight;
While Peace, all watchful for man's good,
Marked sadly the dread work of War,
And by her counsels to the wise,

Kept carnage from sweet Freedom's door.

This was what Pluto most desired,
For thus he hoped to lull to sleep
The power, which had so faithful prov'd,
And thus such sleepless guard could keep;
In this he was not far from right,

For Peace, though faithful to her trust,
Now found her sons began to think,
The sword too long had hung in rust.

This she by every means did strive
To banish from their hearts and ken,
By pleading, and by counsel wise

Through the great minds of worthy men; But all in vain-old Pluto, he,

With imps, a host, were still at work,

They made all eloquence as gall,

And turned the pen into a dirk!

With which they dealt such fatal blows,
Directed by old Pluto's hand,

Through the wild passions of the heart,
Deep in the vitals of the land!
That 'mong men wild discussion rose,
Then discord from discussion came,
'Till soon a throe of anguish deep
Swept thro' the land-a hell-like flame.

Peace held aloft her pleading hand,
And called on man to stay his rage,
And told how fierce would be the storm,
If they in strife should e'er engage;
But all in vain, old Pluto, he,

Had proved too cunning and too wise,
The imps they too-meant all they did,
And with vile hate obscured man's eyes.

The Press it teem'd with wrath and gall,
And scatter'd o'er the happy land,
Such thoughts as only come from hell,
Such words as issue from the damn'd!
The Church perverted then became,

And men in robes cleric arrayed,
Held forth on politics, and thus

The souls of their meek flocks betray'd!

The Ministers of Justice, too,

Forgot the culprit to descend
Upon the floor, that they might thus,
Some point in politics defend !
Till soon mankind with one accord,

Led on by Press, by Church, by State,
Plunged in the flood of strife and woe,

And dared the wrath of God, and fate!

The Halls of State reel'd 'neath the shock, Which wrathful swept from shore to shore, The Temple where sweet Freedom dwelt Was rent in twain !-could hell do more? Do more? Alas! the end's not yet!

And who can now the cause defend? None else than God, who hath declared, That He himself will shape the end!""

J. HENRY HAYWARD.