Grant rode through the town. 
    Then staves for muskets they forsook,
        And shot the freemen down;
    Right royally their banners shook
        As Grant rode through the town. 
    Hail, final triumph of our cause! 
        Hail, chief of mute renown! 
    Grim Magistrate of Silent Laws,
        A-riding freedom down! 
    Quintessence.

“To produce these spicy paragraphs, which have been unsuccessfully imitated by every newspaper in the State, requires the combined efforts of five able-bodied persons associated on the editorial staff of this journal.”—­New York Herald.

Sir Muscle speaks, and nations bend the ear: 

    “Hark ye these Notes-our wit quintuple hear;
    Five able-bodied editors combine
    Their strength prodigious in each laboured line!”
    O wondrous vintner! hopeless seemed the task
    To bung these drainings in a single cask;
    The riddle’s read-five leathern skins contain
    The working juice, and scarcely feel the strain. 
    Saviours of Rome! will wonders never cease? 
    A ballad cackled by five tuneful geese! 
    Upon one Rosinante five stout knights
    Ride fiercely into visionary fights! 
    A cap and bells five sturdy fools adorn,
    Five porkers battle for a grain of corn,
    Five donkeys squeeze into a narrow stall,
    Five tumble-bugs propel a single ball! 
    Resurgam. 
    Dawns dread and red the fateful morn—­
    Lo, Resurrection’s Day is born! 
    The striding sea no longer strides,
    No longer knows the trick of tides;
    The land is breathless, winds relent,
    All nature waits the dread event. 
    From wassail rising rather late,
    Awarding Jove arrives in state;
    O’er yawning graves looks many a league,
    Then yawns himself from sheer fatigue. 
    Lifting its finger to the sky,
    A marble shaft arrests his eye—­
    This epitaph, in pompous pride,
    Engraven on its polished side: 
    “Perfection of Creation’s plan,
    Here resteth Universal Man,
    Who virtues, segregated wide,
    Collated, classed, and codified,
    Reduced to practice, taught, explained,
    And strict morality maintained. 
    Anticipating death, his pelf
        He lavished on this monolith;
        Because he leaves nor kin nor kith
    He rears this tribute to himself,
    That Virtue’s fame may never cease. 
    Hic jacet-let him rest in peace!”
    With sober eye Jove scanned the shaft,
    Then turned away and lightly laughed
    “Poor Man! since I have careless been
    In keeping books to note thy sin,
    And thou hast left upon the earth
    This faithful record of thy worth,
    Thy final prayer shall now be heard: 
        Of life I’ll not renew thy lease,
    But take thee at thy carven word,
        And let thee rest in solemn peace!”