text:  But shame and curses without number Upon that reptile head be laid Whose insults now shall vex the slumber Of him--that sad discrowned shade! No! for his trump the signal sounded Her glorious race when Russia ran; His hand 'mid strife and battle founded Eternal liberty for man! * * * * * The next specimen for which we have to request the indulgence of our readers is a little composition of a very different and much less ambitious character