STANZAS

Written for the Bazaar of the National Anti-Corn-Law League,

Covent Garden Theatre, 1845.

WHY with its ring has the connecting sea

Married the Hemispheres and join'd their hands,

Why has the Magnet's guiding ministry

Made paths athwart the deep to distant lands?

Why are the winds to our controul resign'd,

Why does resistless steam our will obey,

Why are all arts, all elements, combined

To speed us o'er the ocean-world's highway?

That from wide earth, and from the watery waste,

Creation's sacred flag may be unfurl'd,

Whereon the finger of the Lord hath traced

Creation's law" FREE TRADE WITH ALL THE

WORLD!"

Thus Nature,-her maternal hands untied,

Shall scatter fresh supplies of wealth and food,

And from each varied soil and clime provide
Some separate blessing for the common good.

So shall the sever'd races of mankind,

Bidding all barriers and restrictions cease,

By constant intercourse become combined
In one vast family of love and peace.

Let no man part whom God would thus unite!

They who would speed this high and holy aim,

Leagued in the cause of universal right,

All factious ends, all party views disclaim.

Their weapons, Faith, and Charity, and Hope,

Justice and Truth the champions of their cause,

Firmly but peacefully they seek to cope

With selfish interests and mistaken laws.

Ye who love man's advancement,-peace,-free trade, Ye who would blessings win from every land, Oh! give the liberating League your aid,

And speed its course with zealous heart and hand!

A HINT TO THE FARMERS.

FARMERS, whose income, day by day,

Slides on the Sliding Scale away,

Whatever its direction;

When favour'd most still most forlorn,

Starved by monopoly of Corn,

And ruin'd by protection;

Farmers! who dying, seldom see
One penny left for Charon's fee,

When o'er the Styx ye're ferried,

But in your landlord's pocket trace (Like Mecca to the Turks) the place

Wherein your profit 's buried—

Farmers! who find in Cobden's breath,

And Bright's harangues, a menaced death

For all of yeoman station,

And most appropriately brand

The Corn-law Leaguers as a band

Prone to ass-ass-ination:

When landlords cry, "We must be fed,

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Go-grind your bones to make our bread,

"From Earth more harvests ravish;

Study Liebig, ye clodpole elves!

"Buy Guano-Soda-stint yourselves,

"That we may still be lavish :”

Farmers! ye ought to patronise

Whate'er improvements may arise

To lessen your expenses,

So hear my tale-there's little in 't, 'Tis merely meant to give a hint

For making cheap field fences.