POEYR Y.z

From the Yermoa Amerienn.
"A few weeks since, mendicant appear >ed in our village, pale and emaciated, and convulsed with spasmodic affectlonsbrought on to all appearance, by an irritation of wounds received in the battles of our in- dependence. The many and deep scars with which his scull and breast, and arms, were disigured, eyinced that the tragedy of our revolution, ,had been to him no blood less drama. He asked not for the means to pamper appetite His face bespoke him an honest and temperate man. He begg- ed only for humanity's sake, a pittance to support nature, till he could reach his few suryiving friends, farther north. It was an affecting sight to see an old man--a veteran Of that sacred war, (in which he had lost three sonsl--begging aims to aid him on to the spot, where, in wretehed ilovei which he could call his own, he might put I'D his last prayer for his ungrateful country, cover his face with his tatsered mantle, and die.

 And thou hast seen, thou say'st old man,

 The Lion in his ire;

 Whan from his strain'd and blood shot eye,

 Flash'd out vindictiye fire. And thou hast heard, old man, thou sayst,

 The terror of his roar,

 That echo'd 'mid our mountain rocks,

 And rang along our shore, And thou hast stood unblenchingly.

 His grisly front before-

 When carnage wav'd her dripping wing,

 And drench'd the earth with gore. God help thee, father. for the world

 Is pitiiess and cold

 It sheltereth not the shelterless--

 Revereth not the old.

 Ave. it can gaze upon the front

 That battles stamp hath seal'd; And leave unfill'd the withered hand,

 Tco weak it's blade to wield. Why left they not thy welt'ring corse

 On Bunker's smoking steep When thro'thy brow the death shot plongh'd

 That furrow broad and deeps Or why on orktown's crimson plain

 Didst thou not yield thy breath! Far better, had that bloody sleep

 Been the long sleep ofdeath. Then hadst thou bled as Warren bled,

 And like Montgomery died Thy name been chronicled among

 The heroes of our pride. God give thee, father, words to beg

 Choking with shame--thy food; Those scars proclaim thy country g veal

 Those rags, her gratitude.