1829. ] Affairs in General. 533 
German.” When this compound of tobacco and sourcrout first made 
his appearance in England, the national sagacity was puzzled to dis- 
cover to which class of the creation he belonged. He fled from the 
royal dinner to smoke his pipe, chew sausages, and sleep in his boots. 
The Princess Elizabeth was linked to this lover, and away they went 
to live and love together in a marsh. So much for the happiness of 
princesses ! 
THE FALL OF EMPIRE. 
Let England remember the hour of her pride, 
What the arms of her heroes made her, 
What fields with the blood of her martyrs were dyed, 
When the foes of her rights would invade her, 
When she tore the sceptre from slavery’s hand ; 
When her red-cross was proudly streaming ; 
When she trampled in ashes the fiery brand, 
That in Rome’s fierce grasp was gleaming ;— 
When the world was in arms against her gates ; 
When against the world she thundered ; 
When her scale sustained earth’s final fates ; 
When earth was saved, and wondered ; 
When her people were fearless, and free, and one, 
And her church was a holy thing ; 
When her mighty throne was the Protestant throne, 
And her King was the Protestant King ;— 
Let England now think of the days to come, 
When the sun of her glory shall set ; 
When her priests shall be sycophant slaves of Rome ; 
When her soil shall with blood be wet ; 
When Rome shall defile her holy walls ; 
When the proud idolater 
With traitors shall sit in her council-halls,— 
Then, England, thy death is near ! 
When Rome’s old pageants shall haunt her streets, 
When a wafer shall be her god,— 
Then pestilence and famine shall waste her fleets, 
Then her armies into clay be trod. 
When her incense to Saint and to Virgin shall fume, 
When she gives to the dead her prayer, 
Like a garment in the flames shall her strength consume, 
Her treasures shall be dust and air. 
Down, down to the grave shall thy grandeur go— 
Down, down to the endless grave ! 
Though come on thy sleep no human foe, 
No torch o’er thy palaces wave ; 
For thou shalt be roused at the dead of night, 
By the thunder and the trumpet’s roar ; 
No hope then for struggle, no hope for flight, 
He that loved thee, has loved thee no more. 
As shooting is so much the fashion that it is employed to settle 
consciences, establish political facts, and supersede the necessity of argu- 
ment, we feel some delicacy in saying a syllable that may seem to 
depreciate so salutary and summary a kind of conviction. Yet, ad- 
mitting its merits in dispatching political antagonists, who are to be 
