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Echo 19 page 153.

I hardly think the Lion knows the length
To which he's able to extend his strength;

More modest than John Woods, he growls around,
But leaves to other beasts their own peculiar ground.
Not so with John-he's every rival's foe,
And on to Congress seems resolved to go.
And go he will, unless I make a rout,
And by my wisdom try to cut him out.
John Woods is truly a surprising elf,
He's perfectly acquainted with himself;
"Gnothi Seauton," thus the oaf translates,
"I've beat old Brackenridge as sure as rates."
Some men are troubled with an absent mind,
To all that's passing either deaf or blind;
And though we sages loud their ears assail,
And still rehearse the oft repeated tale,
Alas! we're treated with extreme neglect,
Our hoary hairs gain not the least respect.
Some people's thoughts are ever wont to roam;
But John's reflections never stir from home ;.
His mind is but a dunghill fowl at most,
Before the door all day, at night at roost.
Nought can disturb his muscles, raise a blush,
For me or mine he does not care a rush.

To Congress now it seems John Woods must go,
To try his skill in saying “aye" and "no ;"
But if permitted, I will let him see

I can say aye and no as well as he.

At school, I recollect, full many a day
A game call'd Bullock's-leap we us'd to play;
I for this game by nature was prepar'd,

My skull was thick and tough, my horns were hard,
Full half a bullock from my birth was I,

No calf in school with Brackenridge could vie.
It was the fashion then by turns to jump,
And now exalt the head, and now the rump-
John leap'd last year, I let him leap you know,
But John declines to let me leap him now,

Though stiff my joints, my former vigour gone,
Since John leaps me, why should not I leap John?
Tis true that now my jumping days are o'er,
Nor do I wish to play the bullock more,
But if too old to leap, too weak to stand,
At least at falling I can try my hand.

But my soul sickens and my cheeks grow pale,
Whene'er of Woods I hear the wond'rous tale;
Ah why should this young calf of Bedford breed,
Be ever leaping o'er some messmate's head?
E'en when a boy at school, at this lov'd play
I ne'er could bear a rival in my way,
But chose to have my ample share of fun
And do myself what leaping there was done.

All things consider'd, since I can't prevent
John Woods' election, I would e'en consent,
Did not the principle so dangerous seem,
Were not the example fatal in the extreme.

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For if young men such confidence obtain,
No chance for older ones will long remain,
What, but a want of deference to age,
To tried experience, and to counsel sage,
What, but ambition's all-devouring fire,
The pride of youth, of power the wild desire,
By want of proper self-denial nurs'd-

66

With such deep woes regenerate France" has

curs'd.

Where politicians not yet fledg'd are seen,

With scarce a bit of down to shade their chin;
And like young quails with egg-shell on their back,
Run wildly round, and sense and knowledge lack.
As the red meteor, mid the shades of night,
O'er the wide cope of heaven emits its light,
Shines with portentous beams, while youthful eyes,
With pleasure view its progress thro' the skies,
But cautious Age beholds with deep regret,
This sign of woe and messenger of fate;
So these, amid its wild politic gloom,
Appear'd the Gallic hemisphere t' illume,
And hoary Statesmen with experienc'd view,
From thence presages dire of horror drew.

Nor long the period, ere by Faction nurs'd,
Involv'd in flame the dread tornado burst,
O'er Gallia's realm impell'd its dreadful force,
And mark'd with ruin its destructive course.

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