Rutland Herald

From the N. Y. Express.

POLITICAL ARCHITECTURE.

There was a famous palace once;
Twas built fast by a river:
With massive towers and battlements,
As tho' 'twould stand forever.

Its gardens and its fountains were
In truth a goodly show:
And lofty were its colonnades:
Its walls were white as snow.

And there be many men who say
It was a sight to see,
The splendor of that great white house,
Befitting royalty.

Its banquet tables loaded were
Like those of kings of old,
With salvers and with drinking-cups,
Of silver and of gold.

The men who dwell in that white house,
At first were patriots true,
The fathers of the land were they,
And its defenders too.

But evil days at length came on;
The white house was forsaken;—
And when the great and good were gone,
By wicked men 'twas taken.

Full many a deed of shame did they,
That bad and reckless crew,—
Corrupt were they, both high and low,
Masters and servants too.

And little did those wicked men
But quarrel and carouse,
Until the kitchen menials ruled
The fortunes of the house.

At last that goodly edifice
To desolation went;—
And "rooks and obscene birds" did perch
Upon its battlement.

The owl still hooting in its halls
His ancient grandeur mocks:
Its chambers harbor beasts of prey
And its East Room, the Fox

Where the Ohio rolls its flood,
Through fertile western lands,
Where late the lofty forest waved,
A humble cabin stands.

It is a lowly, back-woods shed,
As plain as plain can be;
Its walls are built of unhewn logs—
Logs from the Buck-eye tree.

And who is he that sits within—
That stalwart man and old,
With rustic garb and hardened hands,
With open brow and bold?

Well may you guess that he is one,
In courtier's arts unlearn'd;
A farmer he, who eats the bread
His own free hands have earn'd.

His manly frame is cover'd o'er
With honorable scars;
For he has led his countrymen
Through fierce and savage wars.

His country's foes he put to rout,
On many a bloody day:
He drove the Briton from our soil,
The savage from his prey.

And he, within the capitol
Hath join'd in high debate,
And at his country's summons, he
Long fill'd the chair of state.

He never rob'd the public purse.
He ne'er betrayed his trust,
He serv'd his country long and well,
A statesman pure and just.

He heeds, not he, the haughty sneer
Of bloated, pampered knaves;
Their stolen wealth and boasted "spoils"
His honest heart ne'er craves.

Oh, dearly do the people love,
Their farmer candidate,
And soon their fav'rite will they place
High in the chair of state.

They'll show the tories they can prize
Worth, talents, honesty,
Too'in a small "Log Cabin" found,
Made of the buck-eye tree.

Then let us raise for Harrison
Our undivided voice,
The farmer, statesman, honest, brave,
He is the people's choice.