Hint From the Mountains For Certain Political Aspirants. Stranger, ’tis a sight of pleasure When the wings of genius rise Their ability to measure With great enterprise ; But in man was ne’er such daring As yon Hawk exhibits, pairing His brave spirit with the war in The stormy skies ! Mark him, how his power he uses, Lays it by, at will resumes ! Mark, are for his haunt he chooses Clouds and utter glooms ! There, he wheels in downward mazes ; Sunward now his flight he raises, Catches fire, as seems, and blazes With uninjured plumes !— Answer. Traveller, ’tis no act of courage Which aloft thou dost discern ; No bold bird gone forth to forage Mid the tempest stern ; But such mockery as the Nations See, when Commonwealth-vexations Lift men from their native stations, Like yon tuft of fern; Such it is, and not a Haggard Soaring on undaunted wing ; ’Tis by nature dull and laggard, A poor helpless Thing, Dry, and withered, light and yellow ;— That to be the tempest’s fellow ! Wait—and you shall see how hollow Its endeavouring !