Staunton Spectator, And General Advertiser

From the New Hampshire Courier.

The Locofoco Lullaby.—One of the speakers, on the evening of the late Baltimore election, referred to a beautiful custom of the Swiss who live upon the lowering Alps.—When the last glistening rays of the sun's golden beams are lingering upon the highest peaks, and so beautifully reflected by the glaciers, the peasant below upon the side next the sun, steps out of his cottage, and sings, "Good night!" to his neighbor, who says, "Good night!" to the next; and when the highest peak is closing its gilding, the cheerful "Good night" has resounded to the lowest cottage upon the other side. And so the yeomanry have bid "Good night" to loco foco rulers; the song began in Maine—N. Hampshire heard it—Rhode Island, Connecticut, & New York echoed it—Baltimore has now given her response—and it was hoped to hear it re-echoed from Virginia—and that a long hearty "Good night!" from Mississippi; would sing the lullaby of locofocoism forever.

Good night to "the party!" good night!
To "Tom, Dick and Harry" adieu!
To Tom Benton, Dick Johnson, I write,
And Harry, surnam'd Hubbard, too.
Your game is all up—no dispute—
To the Hermitage Andrew has fled—
And Martin will soon follow suit,
As pledg'd "in his footsteps" to tread.

"Good night" to the party! good night!
Mississippi has "gone by the board"—
Her Walker and Trotter take flight,
As sure as she's spoken the word.
She "Prentiss has" she has just tried a new,
And turn'd off her work most complete;
She has sent back her good men and true,
Who were Poll'd from Congressional seat.

The song was begun in the Maine—
O'er the Parks th' Kent bugle was blown
And will soon claim the song as their own.
The Whigs of New Hampshire re-echoed the strain,
"Over Hills and awa'," the glad music will peal,
Till its notes rend in triumph the air—
And the "dead march in Saul" its low notes will reveal
In the van of dismay and despair.

"Old Virginia ne'er tires" in the race,
Under guide of her wise men and true—
"Sic semper tyrannis," her motto has place,
And its light she will ever pursue.
The key-note has Baltimore struck,
Of victory full and entire—
In the "slough of despond" Loco Foco is stuck
As deep in the mud as the mire.

Rhode Island her Dutee discharged,
Has join'd the loud chorus of joy;
Connecticut too, from her bondage enlarg'd,
Unites in the honor'd employ.
New York swells the triumphal sound,
And wails the death dirge of the clan—
No Marcy for them will hereafter be found—
Into rear will be turned all their van.