Classic Poem

The Ghost of Miltiades came at night,
And he stood by the bed of the Benthamite,
And he said, in a voice that thrilled the frame,
" If ever the sound of Marathon's name
Hath fired thy blood or flusht thy brow,
" Lover of Liberty, rouse thee now! "

The Benthamite yawning left his bed —
Away to the Stock Exchange he sped,
And he found the Scrip of Greece so high,
That it fired his blood, it flusht his eye,
And oh! 't was a sight for the Ghost to see,
For never was Greek more Greek than he!
And still as the premium higher went,
His ecstasy rose — so much percent .
(As we see in a glass that tells the weather
The heat and the silver rise together,)
And Liberty sung from the patriot's lip,
While a voice from his pocket whispered " Scrip! "
The Ghost of Miltiades came again; —
He smiled, as the pale moon smiles thro' rain,
For his soul was glad at that patriot strain;
(And poor, dear ghost — how little he knew
The jobs and the tricks of the Philhellene crew!)
" Blessings and thanks! " was all he said,
Then melting away like a night-dream fled!

The Benthamite hears — amazed that ghosts
Could be such fools — and away he posts,
A patriot still? Ah no, ah no —
Goddess of Freedom, thy Scrip is low,
And warm and fond as thy lovers are,
Thou triest their passion, when under par .
The Benthamite's ardor fast decays,
By turns he weeps and swears and prays,
And wishes the devil had Crescent and Cross,
Ere he had been forced to sell at a loss.
They quote him the Stock of various nations,
But, spite of his classic associations,
Lord! how he loathes the Greek quotations!

" Who 'll buy my Scrip? Who 'll buy my Scrip? "
Is now the theme of the patriot's lip,
As he runs to tell how hard his lot is
To Messrs. Orlando and Luriottis,
And says, " Oh Greece, for Liberty's sake,
" Do buy my Scrip, and I vow to break
" Those dark, unholy bonds of thine —
" If you 'll only consent to buy up mine! "
The Ghost of Miltiades came once more; —
His brow like the night was lowering o'er,
And he said, with a look that flasht dismay,
" Of Liberty's foes the worst are they,
" Who turn to a trade her cause divine,
" And gamble for gold on Freedom's shrine! "
Thus saying, the Ghost, as he took his flight,
Gave a Parthian kick to the Benthamite,
Which sent him, whimpering, off to Jerry —
And vanisht away to the Stygian ferry!