Not yet, not yet to interfere does England see

occasion,

But treats our good Commissioner with coolness and evasion ;

Such coolness in the premises that really 'tis refri

gerant

To think that two long years ago she called us a belligerent.

But further Downing Street is dumb, the Premier deaf to reason,

As deaf as is the Morning Post, both in and out of

season;

The working men of Lancashire are all reduced to

beggary,

And yet they will not listen unto Roebuck, or to Gregory,

"Or any other man," to-day, who counsels interfering, While all who speak on t'other side obtain a ready hearing

As par exemple Mr. Bright, that pink of all propriety, That meek and mild disciple of the blessed Peace

Society.

66

Why, let 'em, fight," says Mr. Bright, "those Southerners I hate 'em,

And hope the Black Republicans will soon exterminate 'em;

If Freedom can't Rebellion crush, pray tell me what's the use of her?"

And so he chuckles o'er the fray as gleefully as Lucifer.

Enough of him; an abler man demands our close attention

The Maximus Apollo of strict Non-Intervention. With pitiless severity, though decorous and calm his

tone,

Thus speaks the "old man eloquent," the puissant Earl of Palmerston:

"What though the land run red with blood; what though the lurid flashes

Of cannon-light, at dead of night, a mournful heap of ashes,

Where many an ancient mansion stood? what though the robber pillages

The sacred home, the house of God, in twice a hundred villages?

"What though a fiendish, nameless wrong that makes revenge a duty

Is daily done" (O Lord, how long!) "to tenderness and beauty?"—

(And who shall tell, this deed of hell, how deadlier far a curse it is

Than even pulling temples down and burning universities ?)

"Let arts decay, let millions fall, for aye let Freedom

perish,

With all that in the Western World men fain would love and cherish;

Let Universal Ruin there become a sad reality: We can not swerve, we must preserve our rigorous Neutrality."

O, Pam! O, Pam! hast ever read what's writ in

holy pages,

How blessed the Peace-makers are, God's children of the Ages?

Perhaps you think the promise sweet was nothing but a platitude;

'Tis clear that you have no concern in that divine beatitude.

But "hear! hear! hear!" another peer, that mighty man of muscle,

Is on his legs, what slender pegs! "ye noble Earl" of Russell;

Thus might he speak, did not of speech his shrewd reserve the folly see,

And thus unfold the subtle plan of England's secret policy:

"John Bright was right! Yes, let 'em fight, these fools across the water,

'Tis no affair at all of ours, their carnival of slaughter! The Christian world, indeed, may say we ought not to allow it, sirs,

But still 'tis music in our ears, this roar of Yankee howitzers.

“A word or two of sympathy, that costs us not a

penny,

We give the gallant Southerners, the few against

the many;

We say their noble fortitude of final triumph pre

sages,

And praise in Blackwood's Magazine Jeff. Davis and his messages―

"Of course we claim the shining fame of glorious Stonewall Jackson,

Who typifies the English race, a sterling Anglo

Saxon;

To bravest song his deeds belong, to Clio and Mel

pomene❞—

(And why not for a British stream demand the Chickahominy?)

"But for the cause in which he fell we can not lift

a finger,

'Tis idle on the question any longer here to linger; 'Tis true the South has freely bled, her sorrows are Homeric, oh!

Her case is like to his of old who journeyed unto Jericho

"The thieves have stripped and bruised, although as yet they have not bound her;

We'd like to see her slay 'em all to right and left around her;

We shouldn't cry in Parliament if Lee should cross the Raritan,

But England never yet was known to play the Good Samaritan.