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' ~ '■? -' . V
r
B(
HIGHI
B
D. & .
MONT
TBI MBTBOPOLITAW SIXTH BIADIR.
THE
BOOK OF ORATORY:
COMPILED FOB THB USB OJ-
COLLEGES, ACADEMIES,
AND THB
HIGHER CLASSES OF SELECT AND PARISH SCHOOLS,
By a Member of thb Order of thk
ITMW AND SBVISSD SD
NEW YORK:
D. & J. SADLIBR & CO., 31 BARCLAY STREET
MONTREAL:— COR. NOTRE-DAMK AND ST. FRANCIS XAVIER ST3.
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Bntered according to Act of Congress, In the year 18n,
By D. & J. SADLIER & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congreag »t Washington.
/m
mi
PREFACE.
Thb general principles which have guided the compners oi
the Metropolitan Series are exemplified most fully in this the
crowning volume of the series, and need not here be repeated
We present this volume as at once an advanced Reader and a
manual for Elocution, in the highest classes in our academies
and schools. •
All are aware from how comparatively liu.ited a circle.the
selections of Readers generally are made. In the present
senes there has been no limit, and resort has been had to
sources hitherto almost untouched. This gives a novelty and
a fr^hness to the selection that cannot fail to please both
instructors and pupils. The pieces are especially adapted for
the use which has led to their selection; that is, for delivery
as exercises of elocution and oratory.
As this volume is intended for academies of both sexes
care has been taken to make it suitable for either ,nJ
ladies are not expected, indeed, to become orators, or to er
the forum or senate chamber ; yet as proper and elegant read-
ing IS almost impossible without a knowledge of the principles
ot elocution, and practise in delivery, eloctition must form a
branch of their education; and a suitable maaual, such as we
venture to say we here present, cannot fail to bo appreciated.
N«w Yo»K, Aufust, ld67.
S4867
CONTENTS.
PART I.— ELOCUTION.
PitraCIFLBS AND DEFINITIONS U
Exercises in Breathing '..".'."..'.'"..*.'.*!.''.*!.' .* .' 14
Gesture j4
The Votal Organs .....',...'. .V.'.'.'.V.'.'.'.i.'.'.*'.'.'.' .*.'.' iq
Articulation -17
The VoiCB 01
Quality OF Voice '. So
The Pare Quality '.'.'.'.'.'.'.'. 09
The Orotund Quality nZ
The Guttural Quality '.,.'. S4
Tlie Aspirate Voice oe
The Tremor Quality .' or
Vabiationb OP Voice 27
Examples in Pitch '■...."....!..... 28
Examples in Force ..".*.!"". an
Examples in Time o!i
Emphasis '..".'.',.'!!'..'""! '^' 35
Examples in Emphatic Utterance.. q«
INFLECI'ION, CmcUMPLEX, AND MONOTONB.. S7
Inflection ?.L
Circumflex oq
TheMonotone ff.
Pauses ' '\ Vf
Personation ....'.' "* If
Thb Study of Expression.* '.' .'.*.*.' .'.'.*." .'.'.'. .'.'.■.' .'.*, '. '.'.[',',',',', \ \ \\\ 43
PART II.— RHETORICAL.
?■ %lJlft '-.■•■■: — ■■■■: ms3 1. A. Proctor 53
3. English Operatives m Manufacturing Districts Southev 54
4. 1 he Miserere at Rome TTpn^J, rl
5. St.Peter's ^'^T^il
6. Song of the Stars. ;;:;;:; XS ?Q
7. TheSea OT"^ ^3
8. Burningof Moscow......;:: ^^2uZ «-
9. The Parting of Marmlon and Douglas.".' V.'.V.V.V.'.V." ' * Zu m
10. The Summer of Kings ^"^ 5o
11. Extempore or Sioht IJ^adin"- L-
la. The Campagna of Rome ..°. .'.'. .■.'.■.■.'.".■.■.■.'.■.'.■.■.'.■.■.'.■.'.'.■iiwi^-n 76
CONTENTS.
11
14
14
16
17
21
23
23
28
24
25
25
27
28
30
•6'd
35
86
37
37
39
40
41
44
48
Arrington 51
A. Proctor 53
. . .Southey 54
. .Headley 56
. . .Eustace 58
. . .Bryant 63
. . Wallace 63
Alisan 65
Scott 6!)
73
18. Monk Felix
It' description of the Ruins at Bal'w LongfeUow
15. The Convict Ship » ^i- ^aioec Lamnrtine
16. Mountains. . ■■T.K.IIervey
17. Ireland and the Irish n Z^'^""' ^«'««
18. The Duellist's Honor ^- ™«'''^« ^^^•*<«-
21. Post Nummos Virtus' ' "." if/ n' " " •, V ••P'y'Sf'^
22. Grace Darling i/if. 2?6'o. Abp. 8pnldir,fj
23. The Church Wordsworth
24. The Church— ((7J^/e/(ferf) Mamulay
l^> V^^ Crusaders Approach Jer^fem.V. /^•^*-
26. The Suliote Mother . "^'^^ .^Timo
27. The End of the Lonff pkrfiameiit ""'* ?^^>''^
28. American Literature *^^'^''''°'^"* Ztw^^rfi
29. Legend of St Jodoona m""i':'-:\ Oiimke
80. ThI Poor Exile Translated f^om the German
81. A Christmas Hyinn I^mennais
33. Baron Geramb A'"^: Dommct
f- The Angels of Buena vista.'.: ^"'''^''''^ ^fT""
34. The Possession of Juba Whittier
35. The Possession ot 3nU:i(dmHn^'^:::: y,; ,', "^^""^ ?o?
3?: fefnTrtTe^liar^-^^^"^"'^^^ I'l
38. Italy. . ..... ^ -»• ^- McCarthy 137
89. The Tyrant and* t'lie 'Capt'ive JV ; ' 'w " *; ' '^'^^^^
40. The Submarine TelegrSh ^n"^^ A Proctor
41. The Human Voice Cardinal Wiseman
43. The Bell of Liberty Holmes
43. The Just Man Headley 137
44. Summer Hymn »? "A* "A" ^'^^'^ 1^0
45. The Christian Pi-eacher J^'omthe Oermati of Scheffler 143
40. What is Glory ? Lamarline 144
Christendom MotJw.rweM
The Good Old 'Tim'es'. ■.".■.'.'.■.■. » ' ' ' V v/ '''^f*
Maryland -''''^"- "^- ^"- -Vf ^.j
The Female "Alartyr Wm. Geo R,id
American History '/,';.'" A ••/^/I'ittier
Soggarth Aroon. . ....'.* ^"^'^ ^' Verplanck
Summer's Farewell Banim
Rome Under Nero. '• ^- ^^'^^
Acre Manalian
76
80
83
84
86
87
8!>
90
93
94
97
98
99
103
103
106
107
109
110
118
114
189
130
133
134
47.
48.
49.
50.
51.
53.
53.
54.
65.
56. The :
67
58
59.
60.
145
146
149
153
154
156
158
160
163
1(
75
. .Buskin 76
Martyrs of Fatherland n'V"" lot
The American Republic V^^ ^'^^^ ^^^
Don't Forget. '^^<^ff^ Stoi-y 167
The Penitent's 'Pmyer ^' ^- ^ayhyr 170
Tlie Chuxch-Boll «••,-. Goethe 171
61. The Bier that CJoii'o'ue'r'ed Cardinal Wiseman 173
63. St. Bernard.. ^ 173
63. for the Wings of't'he win'd lo "Wande'r 'l ' ' ' Jw^f'fff^-^/r^ JZ^
w^- A Man Overboard " tf'^-ijs _^j_i , ^,^y^^,^ i^q
65. The Fount of Song MitcheU 179
66. Monaeteiies. . -''"** Brown 180
Hurler 183
6
CONTENTS.
67. Charity... ^^ '**"
08. The P«ri'8 Song .■:;::::: COorman 183
69. Floating Wanda ." ^i^*^ }^6
71. Revolutionists . n^'H \^^
73. The Aztec Empire. ... . . .' iF"''"^ If^r.
78. The Valley of MexicoV. V.'.V.V.V. ^'%? 2?
74. What is Poetry? « "iiJ-" iiJ ' / ' ^o
76 Thft An<rAinQ H'. A. Sturr VH
7?: li^nVof^iahiri::::::: ^-'^'-^ >^~^ S
78. ThePross b"?""'^ n5
79. Huinsof copanandPaienque.::::::::;:.::; £r«2S?
80. The Spirit of Beauty Utep/iens m
81. Man's Position in C&a ion. .• ^JT' S
i:?i;:^£^ •:::::::::":::::::;::i,.-^SISJ
86. Mother. . .. ^ '^i,^- '^iTf?* ^J*^
87. The Extra Train. '.v. Pere Fel,^ m
S9. Coxcombry in Conversat on rmZZ oio
98. The Silver-Bird's Nest '. *. '. ! '. '. '. ! ". 'Mi^'ff^rlX ?o?
94. The Burial at Sea. . ^.TMT^f^fi
95. The Glove and the Lions ■.•..■.*.*. V. ^''' '^^ f S/ lH
99. The WonLful "On" H;;sShay''.V.-.-. :.•.•..•.•. "IS^ SgS
;s?-Ji!r^vj.'^^i''«'^ityofNovvYo;k:::;;::;;::"::;;^
tni- r ,1''^ >'«niiBsal of (Jeneral Von Poffenburgh jg o'^g
IS ior^XuS".""""^ • '-^''B,
!S?: aL^ry^'°°-<'^^«^-''' ••■■'•■■• ••■•••••••■ ■••.^^^^^
1118. Modem ImproTCments.' .■.'::::: aHf^ll^
111. Fame f. r t,.,;.- l^l
112 Life Joanna Bailhe 253
Longfellow 253
PART III.— ORATOEICAL.
1. Oratory as an Art jTm^^j.. oitK
3. The Study of Oratory in Greece and Rome::::.-;:.*.-:::'^''^;; fA
8, Oration on the Crnwn. ... nl»i^utjZ or^
4. Oration on the CrownHC7^«^cbV.\\V.\\V.\\".V.\ f!^ . !5?! ISq.
. .(yOorman 183
Mooi-e 1N5
Hue 186
II<m 188
Ouizot 189
PrescoU 190
lb. 193
ir. Prentice 198
£". -4, 5torr 194
3^ Wiseman 195
^wrf 196
. ..Bnlmez 199
. .Stenhena 201
J[>rri!f<M 203
Faber 204
). MacLeod 207
iFwd.«/)<^^A 209
74!i. CoUint 310
?. 5. 5^r«e« 21 a
P«>« /?'«/»« 213
214
I Wiseman 217
.. .Coieper 219
Viaksneare 220
' -S. JSaAer 221
. Dryden 323
. i^. Ootild 223
: Jf. JVm^e 324
. .L. Bunt 335
ntalemhert 236
^hakspeare 338
. . .PunrJi 239
. . .Holmes 280
. . .Ircing 2;J4
. . .Punch 2m
.. .Ircing 3;{7
/&. 288
. .Holmes 389
.Dickens 240
/J. 243
. . . J9?/ffer 24G
. .Hullcck 347
Paulding 248
251
laBaillie 253
ongfellow 253
.Knowles 255
... FtX 256
}lostlie/ies 357
i*. 260
CONTENTS.
Public Spirit of the Athenians.
A Last Appeal .
12
13
14.
15.
16.
17. Strictures on WiTl
18
19. Hotspur
20 ■■
21,
22.
rAoa
Demosthenes 261
lb. 263
Fenelon 264
.Ck!«ro 205
207
68
(Catiline Expelled
10. The Quarrel Scone from'juiius C;;^V ./6. 20
11. Marc Antony's Oration Shnkspenre 361
Apunst the Execution of Louis XVI V>: ' " •.•^*; ~I?
1 lie Rising of the Vendee Virgumud 275
Lord StralTord's Defence. , . .'. ^''"^'^
„ 277 -
iain Pitt 'c'- Shaksj)eare 283
Heply of VViJliam Pitt ...,', ' **'* Uobert Walpote 284
"I'u. 286
liepeal of the Stamp Act V* •^^'^'^f^^ire 288
Reconciliation with Amerira. -.Lord C/iutham, 390
The American War °* Earl of Qluitlutm 393
24. "A Political Pause" ** lb- 295
25. The American War Denoun'ced .' • lir'/, : ' ' ' vf ^'- 2^''
36. On an Attempt to coerce him to Redsn WMiam Put 298
27. Sectarian Tyranny 1812 »«8ign j^ gyg
88. Reply to the Dukeof GraftoA "^^'^^ Orattan 301
89. A eollision of Vices. . . T/mrhu, 303
80. "Measures not Men" Canning 303
81. Danger of Delay • lb. 305
83. Pariiamentary Reform '^ Brougham 806
"'' The Establi.'^hed Church'in IrfllWnH 'ni'k ii. 308
Satirical Extract from a Speech of Mr* r^nni ' " ^^ ^, Macanlay 311
(1825) 7; "l^®®*^ o* ^^- Canning on the Address
Declaration of Irish Rights Canning 313
Reply to Mr. Flood. 1788 Orattan 315
The Irish Parliament /6. 8l7
The O'Kavanagh. ' • • ; lb. 3l9
On American Taxation. ...'. Augusts Shea 331
88
84.
35.
86.
87.
89.
40. Enterprise of American C innistV ^^^^ 333
41 Pandemonium... /6. 324
43. Impeachment of Warren Easting^:.' It ^35
40. Tht
B7.
The Tail ." 0' Co?meU 83i
Scenes of Our Youth.*.*.'.". d; ' "i! ' " " ^; * ; -^.335
The Pillar Towers of Ireland " " ^(ackwood'a Magazine 330
The Irish Disturbance BiU ^' ^- ^'CaHhy 308
Religious Liberty. . O'Connell 340
The Irish Soldier. /*. 343
Laws for Ireland '. .'.". Gurran 343
National Independence .'.'. .'.'.' Oraitan 346
The American Revolution ' t".* ; ^^** *^47
The Age of Washington . '^''^*,^ (^uincy 349
Union and Liberty " .-Msher Ames 361
■ ' 0. W. Holmes 'mi
6
OONTJiJNTS.
I.
S?: ?Iti"S"',t?,r'''"' F.n.iia.staff T^ £;:;: is
OJ. Return of British Fugitivee, 17«a i,, I f
64. Lafayotto V i, V >> '• ^" ', "
66. The EaLdo. . * " "''"""^ - {'"'tw/^ «(>■»
67. The Prospect ofwkr. ;;■.■. ■.■.■; i'n r'S^ nl'Il
68. lieply to Foots Itesolutions. ;; TzXr/r //"'"'' ! ^a
69. Song of Mari.m's Men.. . . . . '. '^ ^T* i^
70. Matclios and O ver-iuatchos tl/T, f^-
71. The South during the lieToiution i :::::;:.:: mZ ^
73. Tlio Federal Union 'iTFt^f .,il
73. Peaceable Secosaiou ^^"'"i'l' Hf,
74. Free Trade W'^^- f?
75. OurCountry i^"^/^« 881
76. The State Constitution. . . ." ;.': .' •/'/• K.f '' S
77. The Folly of Disuni..n. '^"''^' ^"^^^ ^^i
78. Party Spirit 7?" ou5
79. Factious Power ■'''• f^^
J?: Sew TcSSr "''^■°'''«^° "'-^"V-'-'.v.v.v.v.v.v.vi/ii,;^; S
i 0,';? SZST"^'^ "' "'"'"°'>^°'' ■'■ ■' ■•■ ■ ■ ■■ • • -i- 5^' «- S
84. Liberty aad dr^Uim.'.".'.':.'.'.'. ^- r'"^"". SSJ
S SSrs'cSX'r;;; ■•■•■•^"•■^'"'^*''-'/ 'i^
87. Honorable Ambition V.'.'. /^ An^
88. Aspirations for America ' 'n'ir'nJ a^,
89. The Evils of War.... ^' ^ ^^^ f^^,
90. Hohenlinden ;r' TK 1^^
91. Valedh-tory Address to the Senate .■.•.■.•:::.•.'.•;;.•.•;• ' ' '^'''tfu S1
93. Freedom of Discussion w'r P.h,^ T.m
93. The Mexican War ^^- ^^"V. *'^'^ f?^
M. Ketributive Justice ^- ^"""T f^
95. The Cause of the Union. , ..'.'.'.'. R n'wi^h a\~
96. Duty of American Citizens. ^^ ^^ ^,^7^ ^'
97. The Foundation ofNationalCharacter:;:;:::::^c/«a;.d^S !}§
/^:
PART IV.— MISCELLANEOUS.
.1 S,J«X^°-dg'^ty of High Treason B^H mnrnet 421
>^>-8. Who is Blannerhas'sVti ?: WW. ^"^"^"^ ^^JT' Jf ?
4. The Habeas Corpus Act .' •ri\;J^- ^^^
5. Curran's Appeal to Lord Avonmor;! '.W". ^"""^f^ fl
6. Great Minds in their Relations to ChristianHyV.\\\V.\'.'i';iK«; 43?
I Itl^'^ZlT^ "^^- • • ■^"'"^ 11- 1
9 Troland • ', PhtUips 441
ij. Adherbai agai^isvyugurtW. ;.\\\\\;\\-.-;::;:;:;5;.^ 53^'^ m
CONTENTS.
9
...Franklin 8'»a
rneur Morrin ;J54
./. Q. AdiiiiH JLlfl
utrick Ilenry Ji**?
lb. '.m
lb. :i(;o
lincy Adanui '.m
'ne« JLuliion [}(;,")
. . . .Penkdl iilKl
' 0. ChUmuu i!(J8
rt Y. Jlayne y:0
Bryant 37i]
• . . . Wamter '61~i
Ilayne 377
. . . . Webnter 378
lb. 379
Edyiie 881
>Ft*«^e?' 383
idge Oaston 384
/ft. 880
Ih. 387
lb. 888
. .McDiiffie 389
. Wint/irap 390
2. 2'. P«tVte 392
..T.Ewing 394
....Legare 395
:{/■ liuaiwkc 397
C% 399
/6. 400
C. if Ci^a^^ 401
...£r. Olay 403
. .CampbeU 404
6'% 400
C Preston 409
.2'. Cy/m;t 413
lb. 413
Winthrap 415
. .Douglas 418
;/'d ii'ytveW 419
/•< Emmet 421
(!taw iriW 430
76. 431
. .Curran 433
iZ>. 435
. .Erakine 437
!i TFeAs^^r 439
. .Phillips 441
i Meagher 443
> . .aS^^u^'< 448
11. Alarlc tho Visiffotli...
'^" FvTn'.!?tf *^''}f i"l '" I"''i^*'>'" oi-'lVcsiVtinKthe lionmn Power
13.
14.
18.
10.
17.
18.
II).
20
1)
MSI
EKereti 440
419
4r)i
451
453
So.nproniuh' Speodi for War,". ■.'.■.■.'.■. ' a,u::
taam Alarius to the Roinnnu rt i" " " • • • * • ■^^!;'^''*
«r..tu8 on the Doath o^ci Paraphrase from SaUust 4.53
Tilt! Spartans' March bt*/-' • ' "w ft''*
The Death of Lonklas. . ". ^'^*"" ^'T']' ^'i
^. Th(, Flight of Xerxes. . . i; • • • ; • -^'"''^ ^/^
1 . Sciplo to luH Army "^**'' ''*^^»'>^r'y 4.^i>
23. Ilannihul to hia Arniy ■^'■'■^ *"*^
23. li.iKUlus to tho HonmaSonatoV .".'.■ '. ^' ^m\
24. Leonidas to Lis Thro., Hundro<l. ... i'li?
2.
20.
Ti'Z'n'*- *!?'fe'"'='>« to the Cale<l.,nian8. y;,^-^,,, 4.7
litus^Qumtma against Quarrels between the S;,nat; and tC ^"^
Richard to the Princes ortheCYu^ud^^^^^^
Alfred the Great to Iiis Men wantr Otutt 471
Tho Battle Kiiov.,e»
Before Vicksburf^ ik-Mkr
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
473
473
470
477
37
38,
Flodden
Flodden
Field.
—K. T. Komer 488
Fickl^Gonr/uded):. ^rf' f^^
4a ^Kl^^Si^^S'^''^^" '•WiiHammnandsto^n^AyU^ Z
41. Tho Claims of Italy.' Tennyson 499
43. Napoleon to the Array of ItVlV..* '.'.'.'. ^H
43. Napo eon to tlie Soldiers at Fontainebleau '.'.■.■.■. 'i^urii]:,
44. Napoleon's Iteturn.. Vr-^r,,
4.5. Tho Soldier's Funeral ^"'^ Wallace
46. PressOn... .......Landou
47. Death and the Warrior ^"^''^ nenjamin
48. '*"
49.
50.
51. Address to the Sun!,'. 513
.W. Eni^laud's Doom.. . V,' ' •■•^ff!^"- 514
53. A National Monument to" Washington sW&''f"^ ^.\f.
54. Washington's Farewell to his ^my ;;;; •;; ' •^^ ^^ ^'"'''j^Z 5 m
SS: S: S Of oSSf '"^ ^"^^^'" "^"^ "» Europ^^S lit
503
505
508
50!)
.Ilemans 510
Shakspearc 511
Kmg Richard's Meditation on Kino-n
^Volcome to General LXetto ^ i^w" "^'f^r^^^ '^il
Holla's Address.. ... . . _ " ; ^'^'^''^ ^'"'''^^ 512
Address to the Sun.
En.iilaud's Doom.. .
(10.
(U.
C2.
Marc Ant'.nv's Apo;"r"ro;;he to Lsar's Bodv 'm^'^SlZ
bccne irum Julius c'cesar "' -^/J-mspcO-re
Peter Piymley's bettors. . .'.V. ^" 'j ^ *
530
531
531
ney Smith 538
10
CONTENTS.
68.
64.
65.
66.
The Reform Bill Sydney Smith
Taxes the Price of Glory /ft.
The Union ])e Saes Janvier
The Destiny of America Stoi'i/
67. Republics Legare
68. Cato'b Speech over his Dead Son .''...'.' '.Addison
Who is there to Mourn ? Logan
TAtm
538
540
541
542
544
545
Black Hawk's, Address to General Street ~ ."."." MS
The Indian Hunter . . ;v Lovgfdloic 549
Rights of the Indians defended Emrett 551
Lines to a Fallen Leaf Richard Teman 553
Ih-yburgh Abbey CharUs Swain 554
Marius in Prison j)e Quincey 659
Manus. Lydia Mai-ia Ohild 560
A Legend of Bregenz Misa A. A. Proctor 561
The Fire- Worshippers— (Prom " Lalla Rookh") Howe 567
69.
70.
71.
72
73.
74.
75.
76.
77.
78.
79, The ^
80. England's Present .".... ^mdng 672
fl- Tfie Bible. Bmoio Oorte» 675
83. Influence of Pagan Classics on Religion Oaume 577
83. Pagan and Christian Classics Digby 580
84. Christian Orators— Fathers of the Church Ohateavbriand 58X
85. " Let the Waters be Gathered Together" St. Basil 584
86. " In the Beginning was the Word" Jb. 587
87. Letter of St. Basil, Describing his Hermitage, to St. Gregory
oo Nazianzen St. BasU 689
88. Thou art Beautiful, Sea I Ji 590
89. Venerable Bede \\\ .". '.". . .' 591
90. To the Christians of Rome 592
91. Juli in the Apostate ..!!.'.'.!'., 595
92. Martyrdom of St. Theodosia Mrs. a' e' Dors'ey 697
93. St. Cecilia before the Roman Prefect 599
94. The Second Coming of Jesus Christ St. Ephrem of Edess'a 603
95. MyGodll Love Thee I St. Augustine 608
96. Defence of Eutropius St. Chrysostom 609
97. Supplication (jl5
98. Appeal for the Crusaders, to the People of Franconia.
St. Bernan'd
Bossuet as an Orator CliMeaubiiand
The Great Conde Bosmiet
Christ our Light Dela Motie Fouque
Funeral Oration of Henrietta of England Bossuet
Funeral Oration of the Duchess of Orleans /&.
The Death of the Sinner Mas'sUlon
On the Small Number of the Elect /&
Exordium at St. Sulpice p^re Biid'aine
107. Song of the Angels over the Skeptic's Conversion.
From an unpublished Poem by Judge Arrington 634
Character of Champlaiu Thowir. D'Arcy McQee 635
Heroism of the Hospital and the Prison lb. 637
Mental and Moral Destitution of Deat-Mutes lb 640
Pa lad i so. . . ^f^^;. ,542
! ho s-.ng of the (. ossaek Francis Mnhony 644
Ireland and the Irish ., Henry Gika 647
99.
J 00.
101.
102.
103.
104.
105.
106.
lOS.
109.
110.
111.
119
113.
617
620
621
623
625
637
62»
630
632
THE SIITI READER.
PART I.
ELOCUTIOIf.
-•-♦>
PKINCIPLE8 AND DEPINITIONS.
■^E define £hcuti„n to be a knowledge ot the prinoiple.
»» which govern the outward e.pres.ion of theTnwarf
60 >8 to be easJj comprehended. The science of elocution
the., .nclude. the whole theo.7 of deUvery. It ia ^Tl"'
^mg forn, or representative power of elo,„ence in sZch"
Oratory ^ the vital e^stence resulting fron. .he perfelfto^
We study elocution in order to improve in oral expression
and to cultivate everv fi»fo,.r,oi ^Apression,
which th« A.V ^""""^V? ^ ^'' °^ accomplishment with
whi h the delivery of language should be aocompauied-
whether .n reading, speaking, recitation, or extemporrel
discourse ; and this is the art of elocution "^^^'"^^^^^
undlZd-'"^'"^ '-' *'^ '^"^^^ °^ *^°"^H we must
^^F^s^. The vocal organs, and the muscles which act on
I of f vT"^' rr ^r""' "' ''^^'^^ ^^"^^^*«' ^<i tl^e meaning
of the words to be read or spoken. *
12
THB SIXTH BBADBB.
2%trrf. We must b^ diliffAnf i« ♦!,«
erly, stand in an easy and gracZ r^H T "^ ^^^
The sitting position, for reading aloud anH «,• •
l^^^v^earned from the cut. ^ "^ ^'"^'°ff' "^^J b«
Sl^mo P08TCBK-|.Bor.B X«0 ^.CPBOP.B.
Sit erect, with the head thrown back th«t tK u
pand and contract freely in ih. . . ' *^^ ''^^^^ ^^^ ^x-
tbe feet upon the fl >r Do tt ? ? '' ''''''^"^- ^'^^«
-ding, speaking, orTin Jng' "' "''^ *'^ ^''""^^ — ^ i^
The student should be cart^f.,! i^ ^. ^
Sood voic depend, op„„ ,t A 'l 7 ""^ ''"^^ "■■-'■ ^
««rfto-^,m»tbekep?i,;,„„e "'™'' "^ P'-"<'°'=« »
««. .n espcoW favorite. Though ,.„,L „ 7 °'" "" '"^^ "' O^'
The
aid in :
nsn
™™d posrn
UOOB
The se
body rest
In assi
parade of
Advanc
demands
only as cc
sentiment
different ]
" weaving
lelirery of
>ur knowl-
to sit prop-
nd to tlie
X, may b«
LOCUTION.
18
nun posmoir.
•■ooiro roamoH.
■me praotice of Potion and (?.«(„„ will prove a vahaWe
md., physical culture, and in acquiring a graceful address
We have but two Pri-
mary positions of the feet.
I j I First— 1\iQ body rests
LJI L °" *^^ "g'^*^ f«t>t, the left
x^y^^^^ a little advanced, left knee
bent.
Second— The body rests
on the left foot, right a
little advanced, right knee
bent.
We have two other po-
sitions, which are called
Secondary. They are as-
sumed in argument, ap-
peal, or persuasion. The
first secondary position is
taken from the first pri-
n»ary, by advancing the
nnoccupied foot, and rest-
ing the body upon it, lean-
,ing forward, tJie right foot
brought to its support.
The second secondary position is the same as the first the
body resting upon the right foot. '
In assuming these positions, all moVements should be made
'"^"p detftheT' ^^'"'''"''' ^^^^'''"^ "''^ «*^^« «*"
parade ot the danciag-master." "
Advance, retire, or change with ease, except when the action'
demands energy or „,arked decision. Adopt such posife™
on^y as c„„s,st of „a„ly and sin,ple grace, and change as the
scntment or subject changes, or as you address yours If to
different parts of the a.iHienoe «— V - • ^ ,
M,^ . '„ . Clll.t^. itruid IllUVillg about. Ol
weavmg," or moving the feet or hands while speaking.
wiBD posmoir, ob mm
UOOMDAXT.
nvtna poamoir,
OB SBOOITD axoOROABf.
I
THB SIXTH BEADEB.
EXERCISES IN BKEATHING.
Deep breathing- with f],n r;
fated the ,„„^3 to thi It', l;:! "T^'^'^'- ^avi J ,•„'
"•e element of feag „ ;„ it,' '^r^i^' "''"' ""' ''™«!' '"to
TW« exercise .h„„M ieflZZ "^ ^"^ ™''^' "^an,
^ "trengtheaed thereby and Z ^ ' "' "" "'""^ """
•"oreasad. Do not .ml ZZl2 'f '"^ *" ^'-"y
okest alone when y„„ b,'att R n *'"'"''''*'■ P"" "^ tbo
"^tnes, by the expanai™ and' " " "' " "^^"V "Md
and intercostal muLer Such brear"" "' ""^ '^^""""al
•"^alth, and be of great aseistan.e "'^ "'" "^^""^ «•«
raking. Great care \ZtZZ" °°°"''°°"' ''"^'"S »'
■■"» voice. Do not wa.te breaTh '" °"°''"'''^ ""^ ""-^ath
jT hoarseness will follow, jfnch nr ./■ ""' " '^'=<"'""Oally, or
'<^.^ -a all the varietiea of ^ c/ 1°'" °« " "^ '°'^^' ^'^'-«"'».
V" «"«■' of sentences, and, finX' „ 'llf ""^""^ "' ""rds
"7 '" 'earning ,„ „^' ^^ J;"' «* 'e paragraphs, is neces:
a-d taste in vocalidng. Nevir si I . '"^"'""^ ■'°''«a"="»
"austed. Keep themlelUnflated ™ "" '"8^ "" «-
GESTUKE.
I' is understood that praotire („ .t,
a™s, to secure ease of move„ e"t « ' ""' "' "" """"i' a-d
. 'are, ,8 the object to be ..ai„!r appropriateness in ges-
«<="• Gilbert Austin in Uohiro '""'"" "' "'^' P™» by
y be sufficient to call attC^ZT"; ^"^ "'« P'-«" i
Circle,. "'•-""O" to the ^^, i^,^ ^
The human ficurp io ,,.
sphere tl.at the'centre ITlTu *' '^^ «" P^-^^ -tlun the
centre. • ^^ '^' brea«t shall coincide with i
^^ mo^wns cnc/ position', nf ti.
ELOCUTION.
15
'gr as Jong as
• IJavin^ in-
e breath into
vocal org-ans
the voice will
3hest greatly
T part of the
lealthjr child
e abdominal
'niprove the
reading or
the breath
micallj, or
il elements,
of words,
8, is neces-
judgment
js are ex-
ands and
8 in geg.
->f El(jcu-
riven by
esont i
nded by
Iiin the
vith its
ind de
Thrs horizontal circles arntm,! fK« r ^ l
head, denote the direction of th I ^' ' ''''' ""^ "^^^« *h«
^-/ „«e the right hatnalm ". '"' ™ "^ ^'^« P^^^ice.
With the body, lestl: t^^^^^^^ ^^- - *t angles
to the middle; then with ene 'y to hJ ' ''''!'''' ''^'
<-"crgy to the upper circle. The
practise first w . L Th t TT" *""'• ^"" "<= -?
"■e risht-h^d pa,„ ;„:" ';t7 ™ "P- *f ' *e left , .he"
°P ; then both, p,|,„, jT,m 1, i ^' "'™ '"'"' '"'"<'«. P"'""
If we select a , an, ' ," 7.'" ""■■ "^ '-'y-iffht gestures.
c/TOcftce. Tins system, if carefully
16
THE SIXTH HEADER.
arm,. ^^ '" ""^ ™°vom«,t8 of the hands sfd
Professor Russell snys "Tl,,. .„.
true maDDer ; the ffroat att«h , ,' '"''"'"" '""'* '■""e a
attitude and 'action^" ZklZ ^7'"^ ^^"""O". '»
pn>?»«<y.» To speak „' , T •^^T~'^°™-'''-«'=<'°°> aod
Bary for ftfe ""'* ^""'"^ '° P"™""" and gesture is neces-
--, th„„,h e.aet„ess and unifrrshlrl'",:;--
■.afdTnd'r: '"wetrr '- r" -^ '"='^» -•* *-« --.h.
H^
Tm VOCAL OKGAtfS.
[AVING learned how to sta„rl h, .
^ ar.s, b„^ to sit, aL hot 'brertl "" "■' '""''' "-'
the r«a; Organs and Iheir uT ' '"' °°" P™"^^"^" to
-he hyoid or „.,,•,,„ b„„^ . !„d t ^ T^ '''""'■' '^ ""lied
«-«s a long oartilagZ; tie '"'™f ""^'•'' fr™ this bone
and conveys the air bfcrard VttdTnt'''' '" ""' '""''■
p.rat,on. This tnbe is called the IZ " """^'^ "^ '"^
"Pper part of it, or t.,at i ,n edL w! "' " "'"*'?'= ' "nd the
bone, the larynx ■ a„d ,,'""""•.'*'■"'''>■ connected with the hyoid
«"tu.s.lJeat;fre;rS--\;---whichr
of fiv(
most c
size ar
from tl
mediat
lowins:
to the
ported
contrac
• and th(
Daily w
similar
We 6
muscles
air prop,
or openi
pends u^
and mob
Speed
ulations
mouth or
Sherida
^very lett(
to the mof
such a di
composed,
their num
ter belong
articulatioi
A good t
aloud, and
«i .
-iciiiuijcs ai
Aspirates.
istructor, will
36 hands and
must have a
xpression, in
freedom and
' orator must
'Ure is neces-
a speakfng ;
fc to be en-
be insisted
1 the right
ancient or
ELOCUTION.
17
mediately over ti.e aom- mf /^" '="'''''«'^ "«» ■■'"■
to the stomach Thes fL?ea n °''"'"""^™' "'"■^'' '"""'
ported V a fifth, ^ ^Z^Z:\^'':Z^ ''" '"'
■contracted and dilatpH in « • "^"^ ^^^^^^x la
and the -^J^^Z:':^Z 2^ T!^'-' T''"'-
Daily with a very sensiHvp «o i , * '» covered inter-
-nar to the Jra^'oT'the itth "'"' "'"°'" "■->^™-.
We see, then, that the oronn nf iU ■ .
or opening into the mouth tL " . ™ "*' "f '*« »««»,
Pends npJn the mterardiame or T^f r,,-' "" ™'"° "»•
and mobility, and the force wHh whfch ? ' '" """'""^
Speech is the modification ,1 " ^"•^^''"^■
"lations in the cav tv of .1 .°'''' ""'° '"''^"'siWo artic-
mouth or the7ostril7 ^''•"" ""''' " *" *" »' 'b«
ARTIC0LATION.
to the most app.ot'dtrmXr„r„:" irrd -r ■■-'
orpo:e:ttiree\t::;,%r'"^'-^^^
their number, and percet 't" f 'f °""^' ''*°°"'»''?
t^r belongs. ' Where Z: pi t "„, r"^" ^-'"^"'^ -c- lo'
articulation is defeotiTe.» '^ '*''°''''' ^"' "'»■ observed the
A good articulation may be ann.,;„j .
ajona and i„ a whisper, tLlrer^ tZ tl'^T'"^
j^e;^ are u.vided into three classes- ^^ IZtZZ
18
THE SIXTH READER.
I
„ '*^'^' ^'auch, class, mastiff.
y, oerore R, aa in heir, their.
IsZ ■" ''" ''°''' ""'■'''• '^y- ^""■H flight
'*'"'■"'"'"• P"'. whip, c;,„i„;ri„|.'
-».«».J;e::;.re:•r.^:r;e'°-•'•
O'. OS in oil, choice, noise, coin toy boil
0". as .n out. «o„„d, t„„„, .ho;,':i':;^
'-z\*:;„Titr:;^4*-thee,^^^^
flexibility of voice and good art! , """=' "' *" '™'»- For
-ci- than the nttsJ^,rZT7 !'""'" '' °° "'"'^ "!
oren. ,,«^^^,„„ ,^^^ ^,.^,._^^^ 17;: it^Tn ^ '"""■'■
ueies. ihe practice of exDlodi„„ .1, t '"" ""'cuni-
Conaonant prefixed, firet a Sntv fal p "' "™«"'' "'"■ «
-.-fgreat™l„ei„ac,nirIrol„rr;:rtT:
"" *^^ P'-eceding table. They are
BLOCtJTION.
19
VM
•^
{"
formed by the vibration of the Vnral .u a
organs of speech : ^ '^"'^'' '""^'fied bj the
^ 1 1 ' ' '^"''^' ^'"^^ "««d. ^lid.
^' r 4 if:"; ^T' f ^' ^-=--v, give. ^luJu^, ,
7 ""' ''^ J'^' J"y. J'lclf?^, Juno, furv '
4 06 m let, lull, wall, isle, la.'k loH ;
^ - ^ .nan. .ain, .ou..d, .a;i. dJ^r ^'^'>'
^ as in nun, nay, noun, name.
%a«^nsing^, king, ring, flinging.
fi (^n/ferf), run, rap, Richard, France, round
^iTT^-'^'^'^^'^PP-^'^-^earet
m, asm th,ne, th„s, thy, beneath, wreathe
l^^^^^asjn vent, valve, vine, veer, w'eave tl
^, as ^n went, wall, one, woo. worn.
I' "' ?^ y''' y^^^S, year, yawl, use, you MJUu^
iZrV '■''' ""' ^--rmaze.'arise. ^ . '
^, or Z, as ^n a.ure, leisure, osier, vision.
i«. the ::;."%:: r r;^ ?; '-'-^-^^^ -•^'^-^ -^^e:
KM .T Sub-Vocals with the inflections.
D' b^ d' d' e-' (y> i' ,-\ 1/ 1, X
m. „ . . " e g J J 1 r, etc.
With .0 ™„. power than t„e, ^^ • e irttd:":' ""^' '"^-^
:a4 ^. as tn top, time, tune, matter debt S ^A
u.tL ^A, a. in chat, church churn chHd ! !^^' ^'^^''' "^
(.;4--^A. o« m shun shade o^~t' . ' ''*''''^' chirp. .....U^
. ^ , ouun, snaae, gash, rash, sash minai^ -■ i
m V^ ^'1"' *'^"'' ""^^' ^-thrihinri • '^
Wh, 08 m when, whit, whale,
o>nA.
~-i W^*«
What, why, while, whew.
I
THE SIXTH READER.
The Elements, we repeat, aflFord a bettor exerciHe in ArfJ.n
^ Iat.on than words connected to form sense 1^ e dn I on h"'
,. Elements should form a daily exercise in a
Uu..school8. Change the nitrh .L l I .^" ""' ^""''''y
Tk„ * 1 ^ ^ ' """ ^''^■'^'G often n recitinir th^m
If we givo ,l„, Elcnenu. properly, we shall have no trouble
wUh the,r e„rab,„ali„„s into words ami senteuces
«se\:^S^;;rc„^— ^^^ "T' ^^^"'^-^
the ntterao^ to the upper p«r^th iT' ""' """^-^e
part of the vocal orga,,, "''"' "' '" ""^ <""
the^L'Torfir " "'" °f ''°«''''*'' '""'='' »- P'-'x'-ed bv
Cognates.
ATOKIOS.
•IfBTOWIOa.
^'^ ^ or6 6
•^ vas» «
wAite u>;i .
wise to
«ave s . ,
zeal g
8ha.de sh
'•••••. azure z
cAarm ch • •
^om i
^^^' < . . ^-^ .
aia <|
<Aing th . . . .
emit jfc
•••••• Pi^ p
mouth.
Its wi
nternal
the forc(
To m
with pre
is as be
or acqui
The s
be deve
through
and mod
to the y
quality i
Poets,
L and rath
Prose wi
periods, •<
interroga
this art ii
into the a
render ev
alteration
ness, qui(
subject is
We ha'
proficienc;
ment of c
than other
ELOCUTION.
1^1
3 no trouble
^.t
THE VOICE.
yOICE is the 8o„nd of the breath, propelled through the
mouth!"^"''' ^ ^^ ^"^ '^"'"'* *^' ^'""'^ "•• "P^°'»ff ^"^^ the
Tt8 morfuZa^zon depends upon the control of the larynx the
n ernal d.ameter of the glottis, its elasticity and mobifity.'and
the force with which the air is expelled
To modulate or change the voice fr"om one key to another
with proper degrees of power to each, as the subject demands
The student should understand that the vocal organs may
be developed and strengthened. If we have n^t passed
and models ,n tone, we have no correct judgment in regard
to he voice. Its power may be much increased, and ita
quality improved. ...4^.^ ' """^ "*
Jr^^"" r"^"? ''^"'*^' "'*"'■ '^^ «*^"«t"'-e ^^ their verse,
and rather hazard uncouthness and discord than samenesi
P.-ose writers change the style, time, and structure of hei>
periods, and sometimes throw in exclamations, and sometime,
jne-ogatones. to rouse and keep alive the attLntion ; bu al
th 8 art IS entirely thrown away, if the reader does not ente,
mto the spirit of the author, and. by a similar kind of genius
render even variety itself more various ; if he does not by aii
ateration m his voice, manner, tone, gesture, loudness, soft-
ness, quickness, slowness, adopt every change of which the
subject is susceptible. ^
We have never yet found a person who could not acquire
proficiency m modulating the voice. It is the mind's in't"
than olr«Tr'"*""- /^'"^^ ''' ""'"''^'^ *° P-«««e ™-e
than others, but none need give up the work as useless.
THfi SIXTH HEADKH.
QUAL'TY OF VOICE.
, . Q'^^'ity : P,„« ,„^ IMPUK. tZ^ *"^' ^^'"^'•'^' d-'-onH of
UJ.-M...ito Pure Tone, deoponed o'r On undT r^"'" '^ «"^^'^'^'^^'<i
^"ttural Qnality. and A^pira^^"^^"^''^^' ^^^^ Quality
•ealously cultivated. '''**''""«' J«y. etc. It pbo„i^ ^'
EXAMPLES.
^^^^ OF Good Tidings.
s^et^oVa^rtr^^^^^^^^^
Relieve, the load IrT . '"■ "^ """"f"" =
Ah, Juliet ( if the measilr,. „f ,h, •
Beheap.d.ike„i„e,„„a'r :;Sbe
■ini8 neighbor air anrl u* • l "^ 'breath
Unfold the iraa' n'd hi "'^ "'""'^'^ ^^'^"•^e
Receive. ^'""^ ^"PP'"««« that both
-^^^ Appboacmino TO Folly
^ome. let us to the castle.-
TV ,,!!r ^'^ "'"" ^««ired in Cyprus
I,-, Ii;rra erpnf i«^ ^j'kiuh,
L^-— ' "t.:: r?:: *- ».. .wee,
J^ mine own comforts.
ml
..M^'
ILOCUTIOW. m
Jot AppROAciimo to Tkanspokt.
Oh f joy, tl.ou welcome straugo.v, twice three year.
I have not felt thy vital beam, but now
It warn.8 rny veina, and plays about my heart;
A fiery mstinct lifts me from the ground
Aiad T could mount. ^. ^;„^, ^^^^
Jl b'IT ?''"' " ""' '■" ^"^''"'« Exhortations, Apo.
trophe, Bold Declamation, and Anin.ated Appeals.
EXAMPLES.
An Exhortation.
But wherefore do you droop ? why look you aad ?
Be great ,n act. as you have been in thought;
Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust
Govern .he motion of a kingly ey« •
Be stirring as the time ; be fire wiih fire ;
Threaten the throatener, and outface the b;ow
Of braggmg horror : .o shall inferior eyes,
That borrow their behavior from the great
Grow great by your example, and puf on'
The dauntless spirit of resolution.
Away I and glisten like the god of war,
When he mtendeth to become the field •
Show boldness and aspiring confidence. '
X';V.f;"^^-3'-'kthelioninhisden.
et ifn^o 'be''";' T' "^^'^ ^>""^ ^^^^^^ t'^-? ,
To ? ^ , «a,d.-Porage and run
To meet displeasure farther from the doors,
And grapple with him ere he come so nigll
TV ■2^'V John.
UEPiNirroN OP Eloquencb
When public bodies aro to be a,^^ro a
■ .cca»,-ons, when ,reat intero.Ts h^ TZl Z T"""'""'
"ions eicit„d noti.:— •• ■■ ''' """^ '"'<'"? Pas-
» liiieuectudl an(J moral endowmenta
.^
• ■*<
24
THE SIXTH READEB.
Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities which pro
duce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in
speech ; it cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning
may toil for it, but they toil for it in vain : words and phrases
may be marshalled in every way. but they cannot compass it :
It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion.
Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation
-all may aspire after it ; they cannot reach it : it comes if
It come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the
earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontanc-
ous, original, native force.— TTeftster.
' >
Vci-kJ^
U^An-
The Guttural Quality expresses Loathing, Contempt, Hatred
Kevenge, Scorn, etc. '
EXAMPLES.
Envt Amounting to Hatbb©.
How like a fawning publican he looks I
I hate him for he is a Christian ;
But more for that, in low simplicity,
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip, Jw*^^^ -
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear hira?"'*'
He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails,
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
. On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, ^^
Which he calls interest Cursed be my tribe, '
If I forgive Lim. M&rOumt of Venice.
Hatred Cubsing thb Object Hated.
Poison be their drink f t^^^
^^^ Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste I
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress-trees I
Their chiefest nrnsn^f-t mnrfh«-i"T v.„_:i.'-u_ t
Their softest touch, as smart as lizard's stings ! ^^y^^^
ELOCUTION.
25
The Aspirate Voice is used to express Fear, Horror, Ke-
morse, and Despair.
EXAMPLES.
Feae of Being Discoveked a Mubderer.
Alack 1 I am afraid they have awak'd,
And 'tis not done :— th' attempt, and not the deed,
Confounds us.—Hark !— I laid their daggers ready :
He could not miss 'em.— Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I had done't. Macbeth.
"tsvUt. Horror at a Dreadful Apparition.
How ill this taper burns 1— Ha I who comes here ?
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
That shapes this monstrous apparition.
It comes upon me.— Art thou any thing ?
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil.
That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare ?
Speak to me, what thou art. Julim Oouao'
Terror Before Dreadful Actions Described.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing.
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream :
The Genius, and the mortal instruments,
Are then in council ; and the state of man.
Like a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection. JvUu» OcBsar.
The Tremor Quality expresses Pity, Grief, Tenderness, etc.
EXAMPLES.
Pity for a Departed Friend.
Alas, poor Yorick !— I knew him, Horatio : a fellow of in-
finite jest, of most. excellent fancy : he hatli borne me on his
back a thousand times. And now, how abhorred my imagina-
tion is 1 my gorge rises at it : Hero hung those lips that I
^^^ SIXTH BEADER.
have kissed I know not how oft w. . ^^-^-^^
lour c-ambols ? v VVhere he vo.ir ,.;k
th«f«. Yoursoug-8? Yonp fl , ^''"'^ S^'bes no^ ?
tiiat were wont to set ih^ + . , ""^^'^^s of memn. /
1^-i.^i .our „.„ ^r^^; '» ;- a .«r p ^„, j--„^
^ »y '^y's chamber, and teH ht ^*'""'; ^ow, ^et ;„„"
r^ f °^® ^^^^E Jim
-I' waa a cCier-a .ife aad oh«dX ! , dT ^ ™ "■■"■ =
As .ha Offered Jp ^ XCt^' J°"^™^ '»'""■ >•« cheat
I^est she mfo-ht w«lr.!^ ' '''^"grht, she was afr.,-^ , '
^ith hands uplifted, see sh^ Z' i . P°°' ^""'er's wife
^"' P-^« that He wiuIdXt W : ': t ^ ^"^--'«"'^">
cu "^'""^^^^e^o'-self instead
She g-ets her answer from f h u.
I hwa no pa;„, j^ar raofte. ™ ' ," ^''^'"' ""le Jim, ^ "'
■fm moisten poor Jin,.° ,,'' "°"' •>"' o"" I I .„ «, ^ ' *^«^
He 3,nned .„ than, J, ^ta t 'eaef a """i^ '» '"'«
^^-icn little, tmv sin f h
"Tellfath h 'V SJP- WottCu
^ka knew that ha was dyi„. .?:, ,^^'"' ' P"" 'iWa Ji™ , ^
— -p^aii a Word.
THE V
toth
ness or v
or degree
anticipate
We mai
calling to
in solemn
and Middl
eions.
The degi
three genei
mation and
tfonal utter
dued emotic
The time
fnents delivi
of thought, 1
sr«re, and Sli
crate and sic
/
'"■ g-ibes no\v^ ?
of merriment,
»t one now, to
an inch thick,
'^ at that—
id mean,
'd clean •
'^'ng wild,
' child ;
w'n dim :
'le Jim.
^er cheek,
^ to speak,
^er hTe ;
f's wife,
ei-'s bed,
f instead.
"'•omhim,
on crjr.»
lip ;
'.rfS^^^aP*-
ELOCUTION.
-V
ir
to him,
ml
> dear,
I" Leaven, once 1':;: ^J,^J2 1^ '"'"'"^ ^'' """"^
meet again their own poor little Jim.
".to each other eo much tha, i '""°"™^' «'^7 ^''-''^
-. .0 e.pre.. .th 7^:1, 1'lrZror.^--
VARIATIONS OF YOICE.
ness or volume, .J lZ7'J.t' T'' *" '"" ""»"«« "f "oud-
or degree of ra idity wHh Ih c 7 ° "" ™"' "^ ""^--o
""ticipated the^e varilti .nj rtheT T """^'- ^^•«'*
We mark tbree diVisiZ ? p^r.'^'^ ""^.^^ ^°--
•calling to persons at a distance „!i;- *' '" ''"'""■"?• »'
i" solemn utterances or emr„l * ^-^ ''™""'"''' ■• ^- >'
- --. as i-n <^i^^:;:::^:::::s:^xT:^:::
".a'.-o» and impassioned a7dl SjC^'"" '""'"
lioiial utterances • and v,.n ' ™»»» .fiJrea, for unemo-
d"ed emotions. ' "^^ "' ""^' ■^''™' ■•° Pa'hstic or sub-
-thought, ,„t ;e matter;::;: zz^v^''. »'^'-
*'^, and ;6Yow; or we nncrht h\' "'^'-^x.^ ; ^uick; Mod-
"ate and slow.'andTory " low ""'* ^"^ ™^^ 'J°'*. -«*
as
THE SIXTH HEADER.
•VU
n. , ., , EXAMPLES IN PITCH.
Bigh pitch.
Son. — Hurrah for Freedom's Jubilee |
God bless our native land I
And may / live to hold the boon
Oi freedom in my hand.
Moderate pitch.
l>'ather.r-We]l done, my boy, grow up and love
The land that gave yon birth,
A land where freedom loves to dwell,
A paradise on earth.
Low pUeh,
We mustered at midnight,— in darkness we formed,-—
And the whisper went round of a fort to be stormed :
But no drum-beat had called us, no trumpet we heard,'
And no voice of command but our Colonel's low word-'-
" Column, Forward !"
And out through the mist and the murk of the morn,
From the beaches of Hampton our barges were borne ;
And we heard not a sound save the sweep of the oar,'
Till the word of our Colonel came up from the shore-1
" Column, Forward 1"
Siffh pi,
ZawpitCi
Moderate
3.
i
Eighpitci
Lmo pitch.
Moderate 1
4.
The Pilot.
Moderate pitch.
1. The waves are high, the night is dark,
Wild roam the foaming tides.
Dashing around the straining bark,
As gallantly she rides.
High pitch. ,
" Pilot I take heed what course you steer j i^iM^
Our bark is tempest-driven 1"
Low pitch.
"Stranger, be calm, there is no fear
For bim who trusts in Heaven I"
•Vul
Very high.
Moderate.
ELOCUTION.
BigTi pitch.
2. " pilot ! mark yon thimder-cloud—
The lightning's lurid rivers ; yl^W '
Hark to the wind, 'tis piping loud—
The mainmast bends and quivers I
• Stay, pilot, stay, and shorten sail
Uu^pUcn.^ ^"' "'^'"^^ *^'^«""'« ^'^^^" I" '-^ v^ «!»)
" Stranger, what matters calm or gale
To him who trusts in Heaven?"
Moderate.
3. Borne by the winds, the vessel flies
Up to the thundering cloud •
f^^^<wVNow tottering low, the spray-winged seaa
mgk^^ ^'""""^ '^'' ^^^P'"^«* shroud.
"Pilot, the waves break o'er us fast
"Stranger, the Lord can rule the blast—
Go, put thy trust in Heaven I"
Moderate pitch, joy mis.
4. Good hope 1 good hope I one little star
Gleams o'er the waste of waters ;
'Tis like the light reflected far
Of Beauty's loveliest daughters ;
" Stranger, good hope He giveth thee,
As He has often given •
Then learn thi. truth—whate'er may be,
To PUT THT TRUST IN HeAVEN 1"
29
Very high.
" Toung men, ahoy 1"—
Moderate.
"What is it?"—
—Ooehran.
r </^ tttyit.
" Beware I beware ! The rapids are below you I"
80
THE SIXTH READEE.
EXAAIPLES IN FORCE.
"the brigade" at FONTENOY.— may 11, 1745.
Moderate fwee.
1. By our camp-fires rose a murmur,
At the dawning of the day,
And the tread of many footsteps
Spoke the advent of the fray ; Cw^t
And as we took our places,
Few and stern wore oar words,
While some were tightening horse-girths, i
' And some were girding swords.
Moderate.
2. The trumpet-blast has sounded
Our footmen to array
The wiHing steed has bounded t.vM.u^
Impatient for the fray—
The green flag is unfolded.
While rose the cry of joy—
aM<
)'
Loudforce.
Moderate
"Heaven speed dear Ireland's banner
1 0-day at Fontenoyl'»
Iiovdforee.
3. We looked upon that banner.
And the memory arose
Of our homes and perished kindred,
Where the Lee or Shannon flows •
We looked upon that banner, '
And we swore to God on high
To smite to-day the Saxon's might-
To conquer or to die.
Futtforee.
4. Loud swells the charging trumpet-
lis a voice from our own land—
ELOCUTION.
God of battles-God of vengeance,
Guide to-day the patriot's brand ;
There are stains to wash away- f-O..
Ihere are memories to destroy
In the best blood of the Briton '
To-day, at Fontenov '
6. Plunge deep the fiery rowels Wvo^o^
In a thousand reeking flanks- /^-u.
iJown, chivalry of Ireland '
^Down on the British ranks.
Now shall their serried columns "
Beneath our sabres reel— >^vl>^ ^
Through their ranks, then, with the war-hora^.
Through their bosoms with the steel.
6. With one shout for good King Louis,
And the fair land of the vine
Like the wrathful Alpine tempest,
We swept upon their line.
Then rang along the battle-field
Triumphant our hurrah
And we smote them dow^, still cheering-
81
Gtntleforee.
7.
As prized as is the blessing
From an aged father's lip-
As welcome as the haven
To the tempest-driven ship-
As dear as to the lover
The smile of gentle maid-
Is this day of long-sought vengeance
lo the swo rds of the Brigade.
' Ireland, the bright toast forever I
32
THE SIXTH READEB.
Loudforce.
|^...aux. 8. See their shattered forces flying
A broken, routed line— b^J^
See, England, what brave laurels
Oh^T. ^°"'^ ^'°'' ^""^^^ ^« *^'"^- -^^-'
Oh hnce blessed the hour that witnessed
Ihe Bnton turn to flee
From the chivalry of Erin
And France's ^'-fleur de lisP
Oentleforee.
9. Ab we lay beside our camp-fires
Whe.n the sun had passed awly
And thought upon our brethren
Who had perished in the fray
Moderate increase to the dose.
We prayed to God to grant us,
And then we'd die with joy
One day upon our own dear land
Like this of Fontenoy. -Ba.tho,nne. DouUn,
Moderate force. ^""^ ^^'^ct Soldier.
The crimson tide was ebbin"- -mA ih^ ^
faint, "' ^^ *^^ P"'^^ ff^e^ weak .nd
ZS'j^""' ''" "" "-I -•" "0 ". though I die V
'"":;— -'-*^e„fe,-,,tiad aiea out to, ■„,.
"It « g™,vi,.g .e., „a..i, .„ther-grow<. ver, da*-
""':::r ■•"-"'->- ".e".a»d .an,, ,ead3„„,
''""i.:!rder;:r:'""^"™"^'^-.»^t^eean„o.
ELOCUTION.
88
They gathered round the spot where the dying soldier lay,
To catch the broken accents he was struggling then to say-
And a change came o'er the features where death had 'set
his mark,
" It is growing very dark, mother— very, very dark."
Far away his mind had wandered to Ohio's hills and vales
Wliere the loved ones watched and waited with that love that
never fails ;
He was with them as in childhood, seated in the cottage door"
Where he watched the evening shadows slowly creepin<. on
the floor : °
Bend down closely, comrades, closely-he is speaking now
and hark I *
" It is growing very dark, mother— very, very dark."
EXAMPLES IN TIME.
Very ^tck time. *vv^^ • ^^yj-i^.
1. Quick-man the boat! John, be quick! Get some water I
Throw the powder overboard I "It cannot be reached." Jump
into the boat, then! Shove off! There goes the powder I
Ihank Heaven, we are safe I f^^^^^*U.
Moderate and quick.
2. At length, o'er Columbus, slow consciousness breaks,
"Land! land!" cry the sailors; "land! land I"— ha
awakes —
He runs,— yes! behold it! it blesseth his sight!
The land ! oh ! dear spectacle ! transport ! delight !
Very state time.
3. The stars | shall fade away, |f the sun' himself |
Grow dim with age, || and Nature | sink' in years;
But thou I Shalt flourish' in immortal youth ||
Unhurt I umidsf, tiie war of elements, ||
The wreck of matter, || und the crush of worlds t
S4
THE SIXTH BEADBR.
Creation slorpa I ii if Vi« ac +1
By the w,„da which toll „f the violet's birth '
By he primrose a.a,. in the shadowy „™1'
By the green leaves opening as I pa^s
Ifoderate time.—FuU force
Ours the battle-field of life I
Ne'er a foot to foernan yiellln^
Pressing: closer midst the stn-fef
Xrw V^""'^""«^^'^°^*f-"hood,-
ForwardI n the fire of Youth,- '
e^ JL T '* r™"'^"'"^' ^^'^^ «"n-end.-.^
«^*- ^^"^ thee in the mail of Truth I '
Miller was a rough stone-mason ;
Shakespeare, Goldsmith, Keats and Hood.
Had to tod as we, for food.
Yes : these men with minds majestic,
Sprang from ranks the rich call poor
Cast a halo round brown labor,- ' '
UU. Had to wrestle, fight, endure.
Fo^wanl,thenl"bright eyes are beaming.
stfe^V;;^^^^^
tny nglit hand, seize thy birthriffhft. f .
Take ,t, wear it, 'tis thine own 1 ^"^^^''^^
Slay the giants which beset thee
Of the gifted write thy name I
ELOCUTION.
Blow time.
All «>ggod with rock and ta„Kl„d with thorn
I droamod of celestial reward and renown
I asked for the palm-branch, the robe, and the crown _ -
I askeJ,-and Thou ahow'dat mo a cross andTgTavT
SuMned and instructed, at length, to Thy will
My hopes and n,y |„„gi„g3 i ,,,„ „„„|^ J; _
Oh g.ve n,o the heart that can wait and be sti f '
Nor know of a wish or a pleasure but m,it
There are ma„.M-o„s exempted from sin and from w«,
But they stand in a rojion by mortals untrod '
The e arc nvers of joy, but they flow not below-'
There ,s res,, but it dwells in the presence oT'ood.
SS
EMPHASIS.
certain words by stress of^ , . "° '"' '""""euisk
i» of three kind, b ■ ,„ ° V,"^ " oalled^BnJhasis. It
vanishing EmphLis "4' ,« "l ^''^ ~^' ^"''
Phatic force which is given tot^flrj "T'r " '"'''"'"' '''"•
ing or reading; by JJI L ! .,'" ""^ '"""'' '" 'P«*
, to the middl^ of w^rd lid •? ' " '"''" ^™"'' »»"<-'<
^t^**!: J , words and vamshina. that Inaf «- J \i-
ound. It is pvon with a sndden jerk or s„al of the ^^
I on the last Rvllnhip ^f -.,.., . J '"■ ^^ snap ot the voice.
' Defiance. Angir; OontJmpr "" """"'"^ *'"^''««' ^^"^
86
THE SIXTH RiSADKR.
,1,T , ' " "™° ""«'• "°"''' ■■'"'"■"'i the stiuiont
■><«'K«. It i« timt natural vanati„„ in t|,o nltci-anrn nP
-oos which .x,,n,it., th„,„ht, and «ivo, the ^o" vajr
to the speech „f those who .....leretanrt its anp:i<.-.ti, n T,
more than stre™ ef voice. It rennires foe inf t] .
It .8 both expro,. ■ ™ an.l impressive ntterance.
neo^lTv to ?';"': "IT"^' " ^"'"^'"^ - "P^k-fr. it -
-::r;.:,trtrs?tr:n^^^^^^^
he observe this rnle ^ ' application, if
.e:t:^:::t:,r:;rt::r:;L::i?— -
EXAMPLES IN EMPHATIC UTTERANCE.
1. Advance yonr standards, draw your willing swords I
God and'sTr'"' 'T'''^' '"'^"^ ^^ che'rfuli; '
God and St. Georg-o I Ireland and victory-
2. Wh,n-e rests the sword ?-where sleeps the brave?
Awake! Cocropia's ally save
From the fury of the blast I
Burst the storni Ghocis' walls—
Rise 1 or Greece forever falls ;
tip ! or Freedom breathes her last !
8. Strike for the sires who left you free I
• Str.ke for their sakes who bore you 1
Strike for your homes and liberty
And the Heavea you worship o'er you !
4. Vill;
^ Hac
You
And
Whi
Stru
6. Re jo
Kin^
Oper
INFLEC
BY Infl
whicl
They are
By the ;
the pitch i
ness or s
upward o
pronuncial
fore, not ii
So impo
the mome:
forceless a
voicfi to adt
in the mid
demand Ih
and, on the
sense, requi
tnediately j
lion; 80 th
alteniate.
FLOCUTION,
87
emphasis
)ractico in
le Htiidnrit
rnod from
3e of Hon-
le variety
on. It is
greatest
ist voice.
inff, it is
uttered,
the only
we are
Jation, it
:ion aud
4. Villains I you did not throat when your vile daggers
y^ 'Uh. Hacked one another in tho sides of Crosar !
Yoii showed your teeth like apos, and fawned like hounds, l(^
And bowed like bondmen, kiHsin^r C^^sar's feet •
Whilst damned Casoti, like a ciir, b('hind, v.«^u^
Struck Cfiesar on tho neck.— Oh 1 flatterers I '
6. Rejoice, you men of Angiers I ring yonr bells
King John, your king and England's, doth approach! '
Open your gates and give the victors way I
INFLECTION-, CIRCUMFLEX, AND MONOTONE.
INFLECTION.
"n Y Inflection wo moan the axis, a slide of the voice on
-^ which the variety, force, and harmony of speaking turns.
They are tho great outlines of Pronunciation.
By the rising and falling inflection of the voice is not meant
the pitch in which tho whole word is pronounced, or that loud-
ness or softness which may accompany any pitch ; but tho
upward or downward slide which the voice makes, when the
pronunciation of a word is finishing : and which rJiay, thero
fore, not improperly be called the rising and falling inflection.
So important is a just mixture of these two inflections, tha
the moment they are neglected, our pronunciation becomes
forceless and monotonous : if the sense of a sentence require the
voice to adopt the rising inflection, on any particular word, either
in the middle or at the end of a phrase, variety and harmony
demand the falling inflection on one of the preceding words,
and, on the other hand, if emphasis, harmony, or a completion of
sense, require the falling inflection on any ivord, the word im-
mediately preceding, almost always, demands the rising inflec-
tion; so that these iuflections of voice are in an ordernearly
alternate.
38
THB SIXTH READEK.
orotund ™-ce, thf Jjct Irwri T '°'^ -^-""^ the
««M„od, requirta^ th. tremor TL, ^^^ " P""""'"- °'
the .ofleotion will be short '' '"" P""'' <»' «'ow time,
»w.ng cadence wiil take care „ntl w ' '""^ *^" *« M"
« ha leading inflection b/appwlr ' JTf "" '^'■=«'^ -"ich
•All complete or n„<,»; ^ *^ '^^ *'"<"^''n? rule •
tie mm^ fe^,,.^,, ^^ ^ JP'"'". »r negative sentences have
o vvora in the sentence.
EXAMPLES m INFLECTIONS
'* O' OV n, ^.
^
6\
1. Count 1' 1* 2' 2^ <?' Q» . ,
«• Elements a' a« e , ',. f «' «' "'
3- As we cannot discern ,), °. "' "'■
-JE!?^^^ - th. advantes :: ^ ke 1 T """""^ '"""^ '"» *a,.
-vable b^ the distance- gonete" ""^'^^ "^ ""^iJ^
*■ H"" frightful the ffravn- f i. ,
With the howl of the sTori, IT'"^ ^°'' "■•««' '
/- -e White bones\Tc7ri:g';';^-«-.-on
*■ ^o-v peaceful'' the ^ravM I ■» •
It^ ==opVrs breathe catalv^' T'' '"'" "''^P' '
'• ^';;°«r™r, or thunders roll'
«V thoughts of T„v*e«<«°"L., .
--?.<!!ic,:sua£emy8ouI<(
the composition
ion is to be read
iions are moder-
requiring^ the
If plaintive, or
> ov slow time,
that inflections
i then the fol-
1 decide which
g" rule :
falling infleo.
JQtences have
'■ iTtl "° 1 ^'^"^ ^'^^^^•^-' ^^" -Pon your knefes
That ? ^^ '' '"'"■"^•■^ ^^^ P'i^-
Ihat needs must light on this ingraStudeM
duty, as to giv ^^zZtr ''' *^ "^ '''^"'"^^ -^ '-^^
forced upon it'?' ^^ *' "''"'"^^^ *h"« obtruded and
CIRCUMFLEX "^
..■l:.':i;tT;.; "■•°VL"'' ■•""-"•"-• »^ '-^ «f two
expressed by them. Be surel^d f 7!^ ' ""'^'^' "^
«o«SH and you will fl„d „„ difflc„l,f ', f '*'?' •^'^""^ "»'•
e.ly, if you have mastered the ^fe.' '"^""'^'"^ """^ P^P"
Both these circumflex infl^.nf,^^r,„
-d », i„ a speech T^ZZTXlr^^'f^' '" ''"
Like It." ^ Shakespeare's "As You
thought but of an If^ as TvoT '^Z'^''^''''' <^"^ of them
^'6 I did you say J ' So hey "r, T' f " ' ^"''^ ^^- ^^
friends. *^'^ '^^"^^^ ^'^°ds and were sworu
ml' I
the inflection of the positiveTssortirnf r ' '^' '^'^'''''''' ^'^'^^-r>
difference, doubt, or L^n ° "*' '"' *^« ''"^^g' ^"^e of
in
40
THE SIXTH READER.
Hamlet to Laertes.
|^a,y»*J^ *'•' «'"'' f-^' ? woulH fe.r thyself? n, d„ it. ^„<,37™''
f I come here to u-kMef to outface »., with leaping in ZtZ>
be b„ned ^.H. with her, and so will /•; and if thou prate of
moun■,a^n., let them throw m Ws of acres on us 1 11 o^r
ground, s,„gei„g her pate .gainst the burning zon. Ike ol
THE MONOTONE.
The Monotone is sameness of sound, arising from reneat-
mgthe several words or syllables of a passage in onTa'd
the same general tone. ^
EXAMPLES.
1. Man that ts bOrn of wOman, Is of fSw days and full of
trouble He comsth forth like a flow.r, and Is cat down h,
fl65tn also as a shadow, and cOntlnuSth not '
2 Man d«th,and wastSth away: ySa, man givsth dp ths
ghost, and where rs M As the waters fall frOnf th3 s i and
the f,„„ eeayeth and drKth Op, so man Ir.th dOwn, Jd rls,^
:^:^c,ro;r:,:.:r'"'"^"''^^^^^^''**"^^^^
3. For thns salth thS high and lofty One that InhabltStI,
«e™.y, whose n.me Is Holy, I dwoll In th. high Snd ""y
4 Lord thou hast befn Om- dwelling-place In all g«„«rattOns
Before h. mountains w.r« bronght forth, or .v5r thor. ads,
ELOCUTIOlSr.
41
t wsep ? wouPt
it. Dost thou
: in her grave?
thou prate of
an us, till our
me, make Ossa
it as well as
5. In thoughts from the visions of the night, whSn dgSp
sleep falleth on man,/mr came upon me and trembling which
made all my bOngs to shako. Tlien a spirit passed belire my
face ; the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still ; but I
could not disce-rn the form thereof. An image was before my
eyes ; there was silence ; and I heard a voice saying, "Shall
mortal man be more just than God? Shall a man bs more
pure than his Maker'?"
6. Holy! HOLY I HOLY Lord God of Sabaoth !
T. Bless the Lord, ray soul ; and all that ia within me
bless his holy name 1
from repeat-
5 in one and
passage that
and full of
it down ; h§
f'Sth fip thg
he sea, and
, and rlseth
ake, nOr b5
SngratrOns.
thOfi hadst
PAUSES.
T\/^E have seen that the art of Elocution is the application
of that system of rules which teaches us to pro-
Bounce written composition with justness, energy, variety
and ease. Agreeably to this definition, reading may be con-
sidered as that species of delivery which not only expresses
the sense of an author, so as barely to be understood but
which, at the same time, gives it all that force, beauty deli-
cacy, and variety of which it is susceptible; the first con-
sideration depends upon grammatical pauses which separate
clauses, sentences, and paragraphs, according to their sense—
the last depends much upon rhetorical pauses which are intro-
duced to give expression to the words of an author.
The length of pauses are not fixed and invariable, and so
cannot be brought under precise rules. There are however
a few general principles which may be safely observed as far
as they have application.
One is, that the pause should be nronortionnd *q tH r-^o
of utterance-the intervals of rest being comparatively lono
when the rate is slow, and short when it is quick.
i2
THE SIXTH READER.
RULES FOR RHETCRICAL PAUSES.
Role I. A long pause may be made before or after a wor,^
expressive of intense feeling. * ^^^^
Examples.
1 Banished 1 from Rome I What's banished, but set free f
2. And their youno- vt^ices rnsp I . ..^ ® '
Q A ^ J , , ^® -^ VENGEANCE CRY TO GoD f
3. Ana made | ,ne | a poor orphan boy '
4. Stand-the ground's your own, my braves,
o. -tlo I I man the puraps.
6. Beware-beware-the rapids are below you.
of ^'word' ^ ''"'' '""' ^'°"^' "^^'^ - ^"^P-« - omission
j^'xamples.
1. Their palaces were houses not made with hands • fh.'
diadems ( crowns of glory ^ ' ^'^^^^
-. I brother,, kindness, and to Jitherl^dnt K'"
thelTJd be":' "'^""^ '" "P"-'"™ *» <=-.. otI.e,
Examples.
^ J^ The mora | was bright, but the eve | was douded and
I Sr '."T*''" ""'' '■" '"'""'• I ^""o in ease •
i 8- Those I call ,t pleasure, and contentment I these '
e.o":h^:hl^b:^::cr"'"^™'"-'^°--
■Examples.
1. With famine and death | the destroying angel oame
2. To whom I the Goblin, full of wrnfi; .li.-.f '''"^•
^. J^ pangs of memory are | to madness^ fwrought
ELOCUTION.
i3
after a word
but set free ?
CRY TO God I
■i or omissioa
andsj their
to virtue (
I to teraper-
d to godli-
IS I charity.
2ach other,
ouded and
of a
ame.
sou-
RtTLB V. Before and after an intervening phrase, there
should be a short pause.
Examples.
1. A company of waggish boys were watching of frogs at
the side of the pond, and still as any of thera put up their
heads they would be pelting them down again with stones •
Children," (says one of the frogs,) "you never consider,
that though this may be play to you, it is death to us.»
2. I had letters from him (here I felt in my p6ckets) that
exactly spoke the Czar's character, which I knew perfectly
well. ^ "^
Rule VI. Before conjunctions, or prepositions and similes, a
pause is usually required.
Exatnples.
1. I have watched their pastimes | and their labors
2. We must not yield | to their foolish entreaties.
3. He continued steadfast | like the spring-time.
Rule VII. There should be a pause before a verb in the
mfimtive mood, depending upon another verb.
Examples.
1. He daily strove | to elevate their condition.
2. Do not dare | to lay your hands on the Constitution.
3. I had hoped I to have had an opportunity to oblige so
good a friend.
Rule VIII. Before the relative pr uns, who, which, that,
and what, a pause is generally necessary.
Examples.
1. Let us look forward to the end of that century I which
has commenced.
2. Spirit I that breathest through my lattice, thou |
That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day. ^lILjC
3. His natural instinct discovers | what knowledge caii per-
form. *^
44
THE SIXTH READER.
«« , not a n.an of science | who did not investigate for us
eTor m'd T^'' ''^'"*^°^^ ''^'^ '^^''^ ^-- ^f toil } thai
ever made these great and good men weary.
RtTLE IX An adjective placed after its noun, should be
separated from it by a short pause.
1. He was a man-contented, virtuous, and happy.
2. I behold Its summit | noble and sublime.
Rule X. A pause is required after the nominative case
when .t m emphatic or consists of more than one word '
Examples.
1. A remarkable affair | happened yesterday.
2. To be devoid of sense f is a terrible misfortune.
3. Industry la the guardian of innocence '
though
mau to
Narrath
Was foi
sengers
Personati
"Hov
*' Sev<
"How
"Thre
"Isth
"Dano
you woui
PERSONATIOiq-. J.u-^^-rU;,
■^E nean, by Personation in Elooution, tho cbange in Urn
nLL-" ™ '""''"™' ""■> ""■<* »■• 1"''Hty of voToe from
Bented hv H ^ ''°'^^' °" ^P^^^ers may be pre-
sented by observmg certain peculiarities or changes in expres.
fiion of countenance and voice. expres-
EXAMPLES.
■ The stoJent BbouM to requireTlT^^TIZlrrr::
Personatwi
"Aye, £
"Howe
" South.
"Head]
tain.
Nearer,
the Cfvptaii
"John A
The resp
"Canyu
"ByGo(
ELOCUTIOJi.
46
^Zt'LTZ" """" " """"-"^ -^ '^ -O" «"«
'A Ship on Fire.
wtic dashed on the fire, but in vain. There were
large quantities of resin and tar on board, and it
was found useless to attempt to save the ship. tL paL
-ngevs rushed forward and inquired of the pilot ^
Personauon CMnge tke vaice for paesen.ers and piL. '
ilow tar are we from Buffalo ?"
*' Seven miles."
" How long- before we can reach there ?'•
18 there any danger ?'»
"Banger 1 here-see the smoke bursting out-o-o forward'if
you would save your lives." loiward if
. oren '■rowdc-d the forward part of tiic ship. John
-fw^J^ Maynard stood at the helm. The flamoa bm,t
ciiea out through his trumpet :
"John Maynard |'>
Personation. "Aye, aye, sir I"
" Are you at the helm ?»»
" Aye, aye, sir I"
" How does she head ?»
" South-east by east, sir."
^^.•^Head her aouth-east and run her on .hore," said the cap
the^rZ; """•'."*'"""'''■ ''''"pP™^<^''^'J"'»«l>'»'e- Again
ine cp.ptain cried out : -^b^'u
"John Maynard 1"
The response ca,„e feebly this time, "Aye, aye. sir I"
46
THE SIXTH READER.
The old man's huir was 8Corchf>f1 fiv.m +v ^ t
disabled, his W„e„ upon tl.o 1 io Id ,:: ,^;,°- '^
s „t,.o,. band „p„„ the wheei, ho ato^d fi™ „ f ^ ' "h
boachod the sh,p ; every man, wo,„a„, and child was satd t
John Maynard dropped, and hi» spirit took U flight ^'l
The Power of Habit.
ne voice should bo cTutnged to personate each speaker
I remember onee riding from Buffalo to the Niagara Pall«
and sa,d to a gentleman, " What river is that, sir ?" ^
That," said he, "is the Niagara River."
'' Well, it is a beitutifnl stream," said I ; "bright, and fair
and glossy ; how far off are the rapids ?" '
" Only a mile or two," was the reply.
"Is it possible that only a mile from us we shall find the
water m the turbulence which it must show when near the
" You will find it so, sir." And so I found it ; and the fir.t
and glassy. There is a r.pple at the bow ; the silver wake
you leave behind adds to your enjoyment. Down the t"a ,
you ghde, oars, sails, an^^ helm in proper trim, and you se ou
• on your pleasure excursion. Suddenly som 1^:^
from the bank, "Young men, ahoy j"
"What is it?"
" The rapids are below you I"
Laughter.
"Ha I ha I we have heard of the rapids, but we are not
8uch fools as to set there. I^we go too fa t, then we shaU
y>u up w,th the heln. and steer to\e shore , we will set Z tZ
.n the socket hoist the sail, and speed to the land. Tta o
boys ; don't be alarmed ; there is no danger »
Great force. "
" Young men, ahoy there !"
" What is it ?»
" The rapids are below you 1"
Narrative. We
ELOCUTION.
Ta-S SiNKINa CuMBERLAm).
47
yc^'atir,e. We felt onr vessel sinking, fast,
^^^^,.- We knew our time was brief
Ho I s^ap the pumps I» But those who worked.
Ar>d fought laot, wept with grief.
Peraonalion. "Oh Irpon „c u x i
un, Keep us but an hour afloat 1
Oh, give us only time
To mete unto yon rebel crew
The measure of their crime I"
Narrative.
From captain down to powder-boy
No hand was idle then •
Two soldiers, but by chance aboard
Fought on like sailor-men.
up to the spar-deck I save yourselves V
Cried Selfndge. "Up. my men!
God grant that some of us may live
To fight yon ship again j"
we turned,— we did not like to go •
Yet staying seemed but vain '
Knee-deep in water; so we left-
Some swore, some groaned wi'th pain.
We reached the deck Ttio,.^ w j n
fersamHon. "Anothpr +., Ti^nMl stood t
Another turn, men,— so I"
Calmly he aimed his pivot-gun :
"Now, Tenny, let her go 1"
^^ati^e. It did our sore hearts good to hear
The eong our pivot sang.
As. rushino- on frmr- -i-o - ■
_ — --, uii nom \vavu to wave,
. Ihe whirring bomb-shell sprang.
48
THE SIXTH READER.
Bravo Randall leaped upon the gun,
And waved his cap in sport ;
Permmium. "Well done I w.Il aimed 1 I saw that «heU
Go through an opcm port."
Harraiiit. It was our last, our deadliest shot ;
The deck was overflown •
The poor ship stagjjered, lurched to port,
And gave u living groan.
Down, down, as headlong through the waves
Our gallant vessel rushed,
A thousand gurgling watery sounds
. ■ Around my souses gushed.
THE STUDY OF EXPRE3SI0N.
The practice of reading or reciting a.oud, selections con-
taming different emotions and passions, secures variety ol
expression. The student should try t^ personate the passion
or enter so fully into the meaning of the quotation that he'
will vary the pi^cA, /orce, and voice to correspond wi+a the
euiotion.
The organs of speech should be so disciplined as to adapt
themselves naturally and easily to all the changes, even the
most abrupt and frequent, that are required in continuous
reading, or speaking. This comprehends the particulars in the
above analysis, and secures variety of expresBion, which is the
great object to be gained by the student of elocution.
t isholl
port,
3 waves
ictions con-
variety ol
he passion,
cm that he
I wita the
8 to adapt
I, even the
continuous
lars in the
hich is the
0.
II.
READING LESSONS.
TH
[The follow:
from a sketch
field, thtJ Tiffm
becue. ' '
^,>^An invitaiic
"" Bome thirty yt
sat, and "the
puw'^'ie bordere
In reply to the
strain of iii8pir(
T OOK at
^ See its
liquid gems I
liaud of the
or smoking
rounded by
I'liptions, dot]
essence of lif(
and grassy d(
loves to play I
; THE SIXTH HEADER.
-* «i * i» ^
PART II.
RHETOEICAL.
1. APOSTROPHE TO WATER
[The following, though ascribed to John B Goi.'^h i« in , .i.
from a sketch of Paul Denton, the Texmml^ I . '' ;^ ''^ "*™*^
field, the novi de plmne of Judcre L w by Charles Summer-
becue." ^ ^^^ ^™°8^' """^'^ "Paul Denton's Bar-
i.y>An iavitation had been issupH f„r ,k»
L^ some thirty years agoTo attTd f . . ^""u^"' ^ ^^^ '""^^ T«^^°« of
'ut. and "[ho best of Hquo" ' •""'^^^ "'^" ^'"^ ^^"'^^ '^^ P^-ty to
pijn«v'''l»e borderers came, found .ahnnrlur,^^ ^e
In reply to their rude demand fo t S D Tf "^''' '"* '"* "'l""^-
Btrain of inspired eloquence ] ^""^^ ''^*" '''' ^°"«^'°«
J^OOK at that, ye thirsty ones of earth I Behold it I
W fn ., '' ^ ^'""'^^" *^^<= ^^« brewed by the v P
hand of the Almighty himself Not in fi,n • • >^4^V
«v 1 • „ *"ioeu. I'Noc in the simmennff sfill
...u .™s, del,, wheve t.e red de^; wanderan" 7 """
loves to plaj.1 There God brewa
I'liilii
it> and down, down in the
52
THE SIXTH READER.
AUAJftOtV
^^'
.VVi.
^^iJ^^
deepest vallejs, where the fountaina murmur and the riUs i
«ng ; and high upon the tali mountain-tops, where the naked
granite glitters hke gold in the sun, where the storm-clouds'""^
brood and the thunder-storms crash ; and away out on the
Mxlowy sea, where the hurricanes howl music; and the bi«
waves roar the chorus, chanting the mai-ch of God-there He
brews at, that beverage of Hfe-health-givino- water
2. And everywhere it is a thing of beauty-gleaming in
the dew-drop, singing in the summer rain, shining in the ice-
gem, till the trees all seem turned into livint^ jewels- i
Bpreadinff a golden veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze,.J
around the midnight moon-sporting inthe cataract, sleepino-'^ ^
m the glaciers, dancing in the hail shfcs-folding its biLlTt
.curtain softly about the wintry Vorld, and weaving the many-
colored iris, that ,eraf,lvs zone of the sky, whose woof is the
sunbeam of heaven, all checkered over with celestial flowers
by llie mystic hand of rarefaction-still always it is beauti- I
ful, that blessed hfe-water I No poison bubbles on tho brink 1^..
Its foam brings no sadness or murder; no blood-stains in its
bmpid glass; broken-hearted wives, pale widows, and starv-
mg orphans shed no tears in its depths ; no drunkard's shrink-
ing ghost, from the grave, curses it in words of eternal
despair. Beautiful, pure, blessed, and glorious I give me for-
ev*jr the sparkhng, cold water I t .
VDOOB AbbINQTON.
3. OUR TITLES.
A RE we not Nobles? we who trace
■^^ Our Pedigree so high,
That God for us and for our race
Created Earth and Sky,
And TiifrJif o>>,l » -•-, _ J rn. - „
To
serve ui^, and then die.
paodi,
and the riUg
3re the naked
storm-clouds
Y out on the
and the bia
d— there He
ter.
{gleaming in
g in the ice-
ig jewels —
white gauze, 54;
lot, sleeping ''
ig its bright
ar the many-
woof is the
tial flowers
t is beauti-
i the brink |4a
stains iu its
and starv-
rd's shrink-
of eternal
ive me for-
lBBINQTON.
EHETORICAL.
a Are we not Princes? we who stand
As heirs, beside the Throne;
We who can call the promised land
Our Heritage, our own ;
And answer to no less command
Than God's, and His alone.
3. Are we not Kings? Both night and day,
From early until late,
About our bed, about our way,
A guard of Angels wait ;
And so we watch, and work, and pray
In more than royal state,
4. Are we not holy? Do not start: ' k<-i.o^^-
It is God's sacred will
To call us Temples set apart
His Holy Ghost may fill;
Our very food Oh hush, my heart, VJU«
Adore It and be still I
6, Are we not more? Our life shall be
Immortal and divine;
The nature Mary gave to Thee
Dear Jesus, still is Thine;—'
Adoring in Thy Heart I see
Such blood as beats in mine.
SZ
God, that we can dare to fail,
And dare to say ^ we must I
God, that we can ever trail ^^\
Such banners in the dust
Can let such starry honors pale, ^mlt
And such a Blazon rust!
54
THE SIXTH ilEADER.
Shall we upon such Titles brin^
The taint of sin and shame ?
ShaJl we, the children of the Kin^
Who hold so grand a claim
Tarnish by any meaner thing,'
The glory of our name?
J^isa A. A. Pbootob.
.».»,■■ from „hich we tl Ibf r,,':-'" r^'"""''' " apWella', u"
woaltt whld, the „.„,t of thl ™ " I .°°"" "" "^ ""-' '"'"'™««
tiB8,l„,a of Great Britain.] "^ ''■ """'"«" '""«'«" Jid* to the
Their health, physical and mo^'alt ^r^ 7"' "''"'' "^ "'«>•*■
of diaeases i„d„ced by unremto ,', " f I T"^'^ ' "'"^ "'-
of n,et.,ho „rvo,eta,Ie d t Xh thTare ' ''^ '''"''''
talirig; or they live to .rrnw „ ., '^"""■'nally in-
confer., and wHho,, hope^ Tulf"'"'"",' "^"^y- "'*o„e
■ '0 t.ead in the .a™e path f ^ ^^ ^'--. *e the^elves,
laboring aianufactnrer. are in „ dwelln.gs of the
inch of ,.nd ia f Ih J V thT'"' ^•='''"' "^--e every
he ..(Torded then, """ """^ '^"^ ''?h' ""d air cannot
BHETORICAL.
55
^. A. Phootob.
J DISTRICTS.
ible Eeviewer, is
' Espriella's Lefc.
■e of the actua]
to the immense
rs yields to the
3tion and all
instinctively
'ep by night.
3d ; they die
confinement
he particles
itinnally in-
3y, without
ut religion,
themselves,
^"gs of the
tnes, block
fiuse every
air cannot
f lodge in
8 suffered
care can
so iTnaii-D
J
rarely or
never without an infectious fever amono- *h
their own. which Ipav.« 1 7 ^^ ^"^""8^ them; a plague of
^-^m; it spits ow T'""^ "'™^'' "■» """ta »y-
-n., inaeea, .fees ™i.n„r 2 1 Ct'Sse^t; ""T
in the days of Elizabeth • +K^ . i " thousands ^
«.at it wL a oerrfagf ^'""""^ '^ ^'''^ «"- *« »-^
dot wJX"e'g::™s:/f%f "°* "- ^'-'^ »f ^-
where, at tl,e r distance of t me 1h r ' """"' ''"^•
. they whose grr. f .Lers Hin.^ » ! ""' ■"" »"«!
^■•ers, and J. the ;:!„ " j LTLn™'" '™"'''
by the light of wanen f«™rc, * T """■ "* down
to partako of de "acls fiCr f ° ""°' "»"" ^"^'■•' "-O
B,.t the n™h„s ofX IZ Z'Z :XZfJlf"''-
have continued to increase. «""erings of t\^ poor
4ZXTJ7:zZiTTr° ""•'^^ *° *- °™
I cannot e Jess to~Mi^l;V''f *'^ ™*''°»-
with which all the docen nl! *, ''T'''^'"^''^ ""^ dread
tion of a life of Zl'r T, T , '° ""' ™*<^'«''' t*™'"-
p.™-shn,ent; nnLt -ed ':on;rn'':;* ctl?'!" •""™""
livered, and poor orphans and b.^rtchM '"/^ "" ,
"P here till they are of a..e to hr„ " '"'° ^™S^* ^
.-..n.ates are" those un^lm- Ll„, W"-™"™-! °ff; the other
'^^*^ uiyiappj j^ple who are utterlv luW,.i
Paiifih Idiots and madmen the blin.l o ,;""^'7 ''^^^P'^ss ;-
old, who are fairly worn-out ' '^' P"^^^'^^' ^"^ '^^
6. It is not in the nature of thino-s thaf ih.
;r ^..ch institutions a, these,sho;^ . ^.,e h^^rt''
the suponntandencL is i,nrlL.f„i fe^f'^'e neaited, when
\iK ^ . . '"*^'' '« undertaken merelv fnr +1, 1
" ^'---=^X=i::f:z:r-^:i^:
56
THE SIXTH READER.
pravity and suffering-. The management of children who gro\»
up without one natural affection, where there is none to love
them, and, < .nsequently, none whom they can love, would alone
be pufficieut to sour a happier disposition than is usually iv-
brought to the government of a workliouse. To this society
of wretchedness the laboring poor of England look as their
last resting-place on this side of the grave ; and, rather than
enter abodes so miserable, they endure the severest privations
as long as it is possible to exist.
1. We talk of the liberty of the English, and they talk of
their own liberty ; but there is no liberty in England for the
poor. Tlwy i^-e no longer sold with the soil, it is true ; but
they cannot quit the soil, if there be any probability or sus-
picion that age or infirmity may disable them. If, in such a
case, they endeavor to remove to some situation where they
hope more easily to maintain themselves— where work is more
plentiful or provisions cheaper— the overseers are alarmed ; the
intruder is apprehended, as if he were a criminal, and sent
back to his own parish !
8. mierever a pauper dies, that parish must be at the
cost of his, funeral ; instances, therefore, have not been want-
ing of wretches J in the last stage of disease having been
hurried away in an open cart upon straw, and dying upon
the road I Nay, even women in the very pains of labor
have been driven out, and have perished by the way-side,
becaor.e the birth-place of the child would be its parish !
EOCTHET.
4. THE MISERERE AT ROME.
npHE night on which our Saviour is supposed to have died,
■*- is selected for this service. The Sistine Chapel is dimly '
lighted, to correspond with the gloom of the scene shadowed
forth. . . .
2. The ceremonies commenced with the chanting of the La-
RHETORICAL.
«7
mentations Thirteen candles, in the form of an erect triangle
were .ghted up in the beginning, representing the different
moral hghts of the ancient Church of Israel. °One after an
other was extn.guished as the chant proceeded, until the last
and brightest one at the top, representing Christ, was put
3. As they one by one slowly disappeared in the deepenin<, '
gloom a blacker night seemed gathering over the hopes and
nue of man and the lamentation grew wilder and deeper. -"
but as the Prophet of prophets, the Light, the Hope of the
world, disappeared, the lament suddenly ceased. Not a sound
was heard amid the utter darkness.
4 The catastrophe was too awful, and the shock too rreat
to ad^uifc of speech. He who had been lamenting in m^um-"
ful notes the recent decease of the good and great, seemed
struck utter y dumb at this bitterest woe. Stunned and stupe-
hed. he could not contemplate the mighty disaster. I never
felt a heavier pressure on my heart thr . at this moment.
5. The chapel was packed in every inch of it, even out of <>.h^
the door far back into the ample hall, and yet not a sound wa.
heard. I could hear the breathing of the mighty multitude
and amid it the suppressed half-drawn sigh. Like the chanter'
each man seemed to say, " Christ is gene; we are orphans-all
orphans !"
6. The silence at length became too painful. I thou-ht 1
should shriek out in agony, when suddenly a low wa"il so
desolate and yet so- sweet, so despairing and yet so tender
hke the last strain of a broken heart, stole slowly out from the'
distant darkness and swelled over the throng, tiiat the tears
rushed unbidden to my eyes, and I could have wept like a
child for sympathy.
t. It then died away, as if the grief were too great for the
Btrain. Painter and fainter, like the dying tone of a lute, it WJ"-
snnk away, as if the last sigh of sorrow was ended wlL '
siKuleniy ti.ere burst through the arches a crv soni.r.i^o- .^A
shrill that it seemed not
i*^*^
voice of song, but the langu
ia-(i
68
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
Of a wounded and dying heart in its last a^onizin^ ihrnWu.
The .ulitude swayed to it li.e the forest to th' blTsf ^\
o. Again It ceased, and broken Roha r.f i
alone we Leard. T.en aU t ehotjot d n" t f'
Went and .ee.ed to weep „it, the ^Z, AiJTZ
It t/" T'-l" ""' *" "^ "''■ ^ ™'"'^d to =»e tbe ringer
b „T ■ "l """" ""'""'^ "■'"''' "o-o fro-" notbiL tot a
Hkadiet.
«. ST. PETER'S.
Pje.n.^.e the eo:: I™ It, 1 ' ^ f. ---;=
^ left in a bold Z-ilt' ^'"™ ^« °" "> "'o -8" -d
:=o/Zb'::t:-;;:ri^^^^
bj a single row of On.-infi n ^* '' ^^''''^ '^ supported
"HETOBIOAI,. „
node of coupled pillars ,1,., ™
'--. the g,.ee J ZTj^^' """ ^^^"^^^^ i'« ™.
-"M and expansive ,w ,,„,., e™"™*: '"'^ "°'°™''^«- *!■«
- ed on a „,„,»„ ofooluCL and 7 ' "" "' W™-c.'"-^
'» "'e skies, ail perfect in theirkldT"^ ""' "^ "■"• <"•"-
-" and singula., edaibition il't t^e ^ *'° "°^' '-?-«-
oonlcaplated. On each side a """' "^^ P""'''''?' ever
reflects the grandeur, Id adl :T r"'"''- ™'"S pL,d„
tte principal dome. ^ ""' « '""» l" the majesty of
-ltt:;r:d°f:^-terr^ '^* -= — -'
e^^at. which so maguiSeeat r *^P««'»«°", however
'^-e lofty portals o^en ilt Z n! T"" """^' '"'™ »-ed. .
I"? ■" dimensions and de^raH ^ ° "^ ^^^bulum, a gal-
cathedrals. ^-oor^Uons .^ual to the most s^aciTus
«%if Cltltd :t ■■" '»"^'^- --'-'» ^oi,ht and
;j«t vault, adorn'ed wi.r*„:rXt '''''''' ~ '^*
'ehevos, and term-'oated at hJt' P''"^'"™' "'osaic, and basso-
o-e of Constantino, the otheVoTch: Ju '^ ^^™^'™" «'^'-t
'• A fountain at p^^k . ^naueniag-ue. *
-0 ieap a reservoir a^s m"^ 'T''' " "™"' ^"ffloient
-"7 Object, and perpt ^ ^''^f a'd "'"' °* "^ "-
'f pavement. Opposite th/fi ^"^ '"'"^y ^e air and
ll «ve doors of tl^ church thZ^ 'h "' *^ ^^^"'^"'^ -
tte finest marble ; that i„ .b mMle L ?' ' """ P"'"™ "f
8- As y„„ eater, y„„ behold "'""''''' "^ ""■""^e.
-^-Btruoted by human art ex' !," ""'' ^^'™-ve hall ever
z T't ''"■' ^<'™«"/np o „: '"'"""""" p-p"
fl r\ 1 """^'^s^'un as von na.o 7 ^^ arches,
»• -out how e-rpat ., "^ t'^®^ alono-.
' """ "^'""■•^"-'" w'.en^you reach ...
^^UiUl
so
THE SIXTH BEADEH.
tmptf ,:'"'■ """ "^"'""S^ '" "' ■ ™"«- of tho cl„,rcl, con
temp ato the f„„r snporb vf.,ta9 that open around y„n . and
then ra„e y„„r eye, to the dome, at the prodi.iona elev'^tln
o o„ h„„d„d feet, extended like a n™,an;n „: Ty „
J.«t, the cho.rs of celestial spirits, „„d the whole hierarchy of
^^^;: .eave„ a^yed in the presence of the Eternal, uhoso'hle
X "f ' -JfTbove all height," crowns the awfiu scene. '
to. When you have feasted your eye with the irrandnnv „f
arts'T""*" ^^'"■''■'"■"" '" '"' -'""■ yo» wnirnt t '
par s, he ornaments, and the fnrnitnre, which jou will find
."emp^U^'T"'";-^ 1'^ *'' ■""'-'"■•«-"' '™^ '
nde^d wlf ■ ;"■"""""' O"™ "- f«"- "ther cnpolas, small
indeed when compared to its stupendons magnitude bnt ol
grea boldness when considered sep.arately, six more hree
on erther s,de, cover the different divisions of the a L and
»>x more of greater dimensions can py as nnany chap 'r lo
speak more properly, as many churches. '
^1C.- 'i' '^"'''°*^ "'f"-™"- cupolas are like"tlie grand dome itself
^^"JaSd w,e|, i„, . ^^,,^^ of the mastrpTec Iff
pa,nt,„g „h,eh formerly ^ced this edifice, have been re
beaut es of the ongn.als, nnpressed on a more solid and dura-
be substance. The aisles and altars are adorned with nl-
berless anfque pillars, that border the church all around Td
form a secondary and subservient order
,^N^ wi-h'fJsr ""'■'■'sated wall,, are, in many places, ornamented
^y wuh festoons, wreaths, ang, Is, tiaras, crosses, and medallions
.r r "f th'" '"'«'™ " '"""'' PO"'"'-- Therede rJ
ndo,r„ T' ""T''"' "-'' '■•'"■«^' ^P-ies of marble,
and often of excellent workmanship, rarions monuments rise
m d.flerent parts of the church ; but, in their si.e and accom
In th • . '^ "'""'"'' '""'"'• "' P'"-'« of the original
Mmired for thcr groups and exquisite sculpture, and <-.rm
BHETORIOAL.
61
SlT'^''"'"' ^'''"''' "'" "'' ornamental part of this noble
13. The high altar stands under the dome, and thus as it is
he most ..portant, so it becomes the most striking object.
In order to bnng .t cut-in strong rehef and full effect! accord-
ing to the anient custom still retained ix the patriarchal
churches at Eome, and in mo«t of the cathedrals in Italy a
ulty canopy nses above it, and forms an intermediate break or
repose for the eye between it and the immensity of the dome
U. The form, materials, and magnitude of this decoration ^
are equally astomshing. Below the steps of the altar, and
of course some distance from it, at the corners, on four mas-
8.ve pedestals, nse four twisted pillars fifty feet in height, and t^^
support an entablature which bears the canopy itself topped
wuh a C..SS The whole soars to the elevatfon of one hun-
dred and thirty-two feet from the pavement, and, excepting the
es tals, ,s of Corinthian brass ; the most lofty massL ;ork
of that, or of any other metal, now known.
15. But this brazen edifice, for so it may be called not- «^a.m"v,
wuhstan ,ng .ts mngnitude, is so disposed as not to ob t." t
the view by concealing the chancel and veiling the Cathedra
or Cnair of St. Peter. This ornament is also of broVze ami
consists of a group of four gigantic figures, represen ini t
four principal Doctors of the Greek and Latin chm-ohos, sup!
porting the patriarchal chair of St. Peter. The chair is a lofty
ye elevated to the height of seventy feet from the ,IZ
n^ent; a circular window tinged with yellow,throws from
above a mild splendor around it, so that the who'le not unfitly
represents the pre-eminence of the Apostolic See, and is a,^
tion to the first of Christian temples.
EUCTAOX. '
^4\t
ea
THE SIXTH READER.
2
6. SONa OF THE STABS.
•U/-HI;N tl,e radiant mora of creation broke
i I ., ™''''' '■" ""= ™"» "f Ood awoke
Vrr^rr. ,u \, "^^' ^"■' spheres of flame.
Prom the void abyss by myriads came,
In thejoy of youth, as tbeydartodawL . v
T rou,h the Widening was'tes of spaceT; p,ay '^^
Their silver voices in chorus run/ ^ ^'
And this was the song that the briht ones sung:
Away away, through the wide, wide sky,
Tlie fair blue fields that before us lie.
Eacu sun with the worlds that round us roll
Each planet poised on her turning pole '
With her i.,es of green, and her douds of white
And her waters that lie like fluid light! '
" AndThf h ^Tr °^ ^'"'-^ ""^^^«^« his face,
And we drmk, as we go, the luminous tides L.
In our ruddy air and our blooming sides , '
Lo I yonder the liv'-.g splendors play -J
Away, on your joyous path away I '
■ •- w ..., ^,,,, ,,,^^, ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^
8
HA! ej
Medi
tacle of lij
18. to escap
tation of :
Hsten to h
swell of tl
beats in sy
energy_cl]
pression !
2. What
^
^tK
/
BHETORICAL.
es
iUMA.
6.
1.
. And see, where the brighter day-beu.ns pour
How the rainbows hang iu the «unny shower I
Shift o'LTl'V.'?"'' "^'^ '•"'^ P''"^P '' ^^"-' ^-^
blw ft oer the bnght phinets and shed their dewar
And twixt them both, o'er the teeming ground. u;.u
With her shadowy cone, the night goes round. ^
In the soft air wrapping these spheres of ours. fi.>, ^..^
In the seas and^untains that shine with morn ^^
See, love is brooding, and life is bo e..,., J,
And breathing myriads are breaking irom night
To rejoice, like us, iu motion and light.
Glide on in your beauty, ye youthful spheres I r^r,^
To weave the dance that measures the years • '
Glide on in the glory and gladness sent
To the farthest wall of the fln.iiunont;
The boundless, visible smile of Him, '
To the veil of whose brow our lamps are dim.
Bbtamt.
7. THE SEA.
JJA ! exclaimed I, as I sprang upon tne broad beach of the ,
J- Mediterranean and my spirit drank the splendid spec ^.^
ta le of hgh and life that spread befo;:?me-wL a relief '
.8^0 escape from the straining littleness and wearisome affeo-
ation of men, to the free, majestic, and inspiring sea-to
well of th" ''""' "'^''' ''''"'-'' "'^^^^ *'- unt^meled L^k
well of these pui. waters, till the pulse of our o"^ heart V
beats m sympathetic nobleness-to behold it heave in untirina- 1 I
energy changing momently in form, changing never ^Z '^
pression ! « o m*
2. What joy is it to be sure that here there is nothing coun.
04
THE SIXTH READER
tuift'it -nothing fei-jnod— nothing: artinti;i\ | Fcoling, hero,.
grapples with what will never fulter ; imagination hero may
Hprcad its best-plumed wings, but will never outstrip the real
There Js h(;re none t.i that tear which never leaves tho haiidi-
craf; of art— the fear of penetrating beneath tho surface ol
beauty. Hero man fids his nuijesty by feeling his nothing
iiess ; for the majesty of man lies in his conceptions, aj»d tliu
^ conception of self-nothingness is tho grandest wo can have.
VvvviX**^ '^'^^^^ '^f"'^'^ '^"d ftoxious passion-mist, which wo call our soul,
is driven without ; and our true soul— the soul of tho universe,
which we are — enters into us.
3. The spirit which rests like a vapor visibl\ upon tho
bosom of the waters, is a presence and a pervading power:
and the breath which it exhales is life, and love, and splendid
Btrength. Nothing in nature renders back to man the lull
and instant sympathy whicli is accorded by the Mighty BeiiK-
who thus reposes Tnildly in the generous grandeur of 11^1
glorious power. We may love the forms oC tho trees, tlio
colors of the sky, and the impressive vastness of the hills;
but we can never animate them with a soul of life, and por-
snado ourselves that they experience the feeling which they
cause.
4. But the sea, as its countenance shows its myriad mntii-
tions with tlie variety and rapidity of the passions which sport
through the breast of man, seems truly to return the emotior,
which is breathed towards him ; and fellowship and friend-
ship—yea, and personal aflbction— are tho sentimentB which
i**^ his gambols rouse in the spectator's heart. The flashing?'
gmiles that sparkle in his eye— are they not his happy
|:^,...«,A*.^.,_ houghts? and the rippjes that fliVUieir scouring dance over
his breast— are they not feelings of delight that agitato his
frame ?
5. Whether 1 am amid mountains or on plains, there is not
an hour in which ray existence is not haunted by thj^emcm-
brance of the ocean. It abides beside nie like a th^ht of
my mind ;— it occupies my total fancy ;— I ever seem to "stand
m
*^i*t-
tl-^ 1*- »'^<- ^«M%««, <a<^(
'<»*»*
tetUy***^
4«0
KUETORICAL.
65
before It. And I know that whonover it shall faro so ill with
.0... 0. Hat.K.co..,;..ta^
wi t il " ',7"'^"'^ '^'^'"^' ^''" ^'"-^^'"'^ ^•-•"^' -''o
r / I ^^^"«''''^t.on man wi(hh,.ldH. Tho strono- thick
wu.d wh,c comes fnun it will bo fnll ..f lifo , tho .u-ttv ^
ur care w.ll bo shamed by the ^i^-antic ntru.,,,! ,,\h "
monts and subside to peace. What can bo ^oro nobl. or
more affc-cting than the picture of the oj.l priest w . ^
I'y tho Grec.-an kin-^-hiV'^fir;::;:^;^f '^^ ^^^^
alo„g be sl,„,.„ of the B',„„ffi„g%oa, ■ ,h1 „„ ,|, , |,i, l,,' ™
oro 1,0 „,v„ko. tho god f .. T,,„„,„,„ ,,• „ , „^„ ^, , ^ ^ -'
6. Ilmvo „ovor stood by the banks of ; .« „cea„ th,„ ,,,.
pe.hly f,.,ngod with curling wave„, and „Ve„ed 7 , T
.1 ange, questionable, eehood roar, without an emotion a j
g .her supernatural. That ,„oan-that wail of „,e Jl"!!
winch comes to tho oar, borne on the wind in the st" Is „(
o,„ng, sounds like tho far-off complaint of another w^'
t c groan of our own world's innermost spirit. Like sonw Z
he unearthly music of Germany, when beard E>r the firs ime
.t startles a feeling in the secret mind which has ne " b f^e
.n wakened ,n this world, giving „s a.,suranco of anote'
^fc, d tho strongest proof that our soul is essentiali; ^
Wallace.
<^
8. BURNING OP MOSCOW.
-iirxr r= -r;,"™ '""-■-"■■' "-«---":
T'lt::i;;L'lf ™!!^'"- .."•-™ -> — b,e wan- „,
„.,i„j,;,. ;, ,'"■■" '-•»'>•«" tns iJuiperor's imagination, and
-enndled those dreatna of Oriental conquest „i;^„h fro.n |,i.
6«
THE SIXTH READER.
earliest yoars had floatf^d in his mind. His followers, din-
persed over the vast extent of the city, gazed with astonish-
ment^n the sumptuous palaces of the nobles and.Jhe gilded
domes of the churches. ^k
2. The mixture of architectural decoration and shady foliage,
of Gothic magnificence and Eastefn luxury, excited the admi'
ration of the French soldiers, more susceptible than any other
people of impressions of that description. Evening came on :
with increasing wonder the French troops traversed the cen-
tral parts of the metropolis, recently so crowded with passen-
gers ; but not a living creature was to be seen to explain the
universal desolation. It seemed like a city of the dead.
3. Night approached : an unclouded moon illuminated those
beautiful palaces— those vast hotels, those deserted streets •
all was still— the silence of the tomb. The officers broke open
the doors of some of the principal mansions in search of sleep-
ing quarters. They found every thing in perfect order : the
bedrooms were fully furnished, as if guests were expected ;
the drawing-rooms bore the marks of having been recently in-
habited ; even the work of the ladies was on the tables, the
keys in the wardrobes ; but not an inmate was to be seen.
By degrees a few of the lowest class of slaves emerged, pale
and trembling, from the cellars, showed the way to the Bleep-
ing apartments, and laid open every thing which these sump
tuous mansions contained; but the only account they could
give was, that the inhabitants had fled, and that they alone
were left in the deserted city.
4. But the terrible catastrophe soon commenced. On the
night of the 13th September, 1812, a fire broke out in the Ex-
change, behind the Bazaai, which soon consumed that noble
edifice, and spread tiirough a considerable part of the crowded
streets in the vicinity. This, however, was but the prelude to
more extende calamities.
5. At midnight on the 15th, a bright light was seen to illu-
minate the r -rthern and: \restern parts of the city; and flip
sentinels on duty at the Kremlin soon saw that the splendid
RIIETOUICAL
67
buildings in those quarters were in (k.nes Tim w," i i. .
repeatedly in the niffbt- but to w T ^''" ^'"^^ changed
the conflagration oxt!>nd;d L .^^^11^^"- '' ^^^^^ ^
stant seen breaking, out in .11 ^- ! "" ^^"'^ ^^
exhibited the app ^ranee of se '""7 ' ^'^^ ^^^— -««
.utumnal tempest added to tl,e 1„ r" „f the ^^ "•" "'
seemed as if the wrath of fT,., \ I "'"""' '• "
city was wrapped in flames ; and vol" Z „f fi T *
coiors asee„ded to the heav'cs i/m ™ p aL; di^ "'™°'
prod,gio„s l,gl,t „„ all sides, and an , Ltelelf Th^ "
masses of iianie thrpw nnf o r- w,- , ,""^''*^'*^ "eat. These
explosions, th efet of tt t I ' """''• ""^ '"'"^
a.d other 'coll if:™;:™ °' ""■'-. -™. ^piHts,
01- the warehouses were filled "'" '^'■"'""^ P»«
feet hurricane. The howlinc. nf +v. * ' * ' ^ P®'"'
r.« of the confla; a ": r wMe h"'"' "'"'""'' "™" ""'
the whirl of the nfassn;- "^''"'^ '"'■""^ """'e dlied with
»«es ..d mid r :; ::; ;i;fasT' "'r'; "^ °" ""
bravest hearts, auhdned 1^ t e blit. 71^ " "°" "'"
feding of hunrm i,„„„t„ 8"^l"nity of the scene, and the
.,,,f/_° ,_""'•'" ""P°«"'='-' "> the midst of such elemental
-....-=.,„ and tre.nUed in silence. _ A.^^t^. --""™
*• '"" '■'•■'"'■" "'""^ 'i" ' ''""".-I. ti.e terro^'of the coo
68
THE SIXTH READER.
tjC^k^^
\
^vi^;
»\
flagration. An immense crowd of people, who had taken
refuge in the cellars or vaults of buildings, came forth as the
flames reached the dwellings ; the streets wore filled witti
multitudes flying in every direction with the most precious
articles of furniture ; while the French army,' whoso discipline
this fearful event had entirely dissolved, assembled in drunken
crowds, and loaded themselves with the spoils of the city.
Never in modern times had such a scene been witnessed.
The men were loaded with valuable furniture and rich
goods, which often took fire as they were carried along,
and which they were obliged to throw down to save them-
selves.
9. Women had sometimes two or three children on their
backs, and as many led by the hand, while, with trembling
steps and piteous cries, they sought their devious way through
the labyrinth of flame. Many old men, unable to walk, were
^ra-n^ on hurdles, or wheelbarrows, by their children and
grandchildren, while their burned beards and smoking gar-
ments showed with what difficulty they had been rescued
from death.
10. French soldiers, tormented by hunger and thirst, and
released from all discipline by the horrors that surrounded
them, not content with the booty in the streets, rushed head
long into the burning houses to ransack their cellars for wine
and spirits, and beneath the ruins great numbers perished
miserably, the victims of intemperance and the. flames,
Meanwhile the fire, fanned by the tremendous gale, advanced
with frightful rapidity, devouring alike, in its course, the
palaces of the great the temples of religion, and the cottages
of the poor.
11. For thirty-six hours the conflagration continued at its
height, and in that time about nine-tenths of the city was
destroyed. The remainder, abandoned to pillage and deserted
by the inhabitants, offered no resources for the army. Jtlos-
cow had been conquered, but the victors had "-aiued onl" a
heap of ruins.
KHETOBIOAL.
69
. ■'A l.nas,r,ation cimiot conccVe tl,e horrors into ,vh!oh the
people .„. c„„la not abandon their hon»os wore pi , led t
«m unparalleled sacrifice. Bereft of every thi„./,hov waZ
de,.d a^on, the ruins, eagerly searchi„/f„r ™7s 5 X
equally l,y the l.centious soldiery and the sulTering native,
-h,lo „„„,bers rushed in fr„™ the neighboring .ount'; Tj
share m the general license. ° ^
■<! dia„''and''Trr ."TT' '""'"""'• "P'™'"'' >*<^'^y. East In- ^.
■1 dmu and Turk sh stuffs, stores of wine and brandy, gold and
—Til !"''■ ""'""'' '■■^"="'"^^ °f -* -0 -t.^ <-^^
P oy of he least .ntoxfcated among the multitude. A fri-ht.
ful tumult succeeded to the stillne,, which had rei^-ned in°t e
c. y when the French troops m-st entered it. The ^ries of o
p.llaged .nhabnauts, the coarse imprecations of the soMie,.
were m.ngled with the lamentations of those who had lost " 1
rumversal , the ru.ns were covered with motley groups of sol-
<I.ers peasants, and marauders of all countries and aspect
seeking for the valuable articles they once contained. ^ '
Alison.
9. TRE PARTING OF MARMIOx\ AND DOUGLAS,
But, .vhilc Dou,l.s had .ranted him L t ^itX o i:Vo"or /:.'"
ret the scorn he felt for him i,r. ,i; i * '"^Pitaiitj of his roof and tahlc,
fJMlE train without the castio drew,
-JL And MarrnioTi stoppod to bid adlen
•'Thoucrh something I might plain." he said,
ur cuUi respect to stranger guest,
Sent hither by y„ar king'.s behest,' rJ^^-<^ .
70
THE SIXTH P.EADEK.
, , While in Tantallan'« towers I staid
l.-trt we in friendship from your land.
And, noble ear], receive my hand."
^'f1^/v'''''"'^^™^^-^^^'« cloak,
folded h,s arms, and thus he spoke:
;«e open, at my sovereign's will.
10 eaca one whom he lists, howe'er
Unmeet to be the owner's peer
My castles are my king's alone,
From turret to foundation-stone:
The hand of Douglas is his own,
And never shall in friendly gras^
The hand of such as Marmion clasp,"
fi. Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek i;t« «
And^shook his very framed:; J ^ ^'^
^ "And this to meP he said;
Such h'"r' ""' ^'' '^'y ^'^^-y beurd,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spa^^ed
And first I tell thee, haughtv peer
f,::"^?^-« England's Ljsage here
Although the meanest in her sLe
May well, proud Angus, be thy m^e: ^,u^.
And Douglas, now I tell thee here
Even in thy pitch of pride, '
Here m thy hold, thy vassals ^ear
f 7; "^^^^ ^-k upon your lord,
1 tell thee thou'rt defied I
And If thou saidst I am not peer
To any lord i„ Scotland here
Lowland or Highland, far o/'near
l^ord Angus, thou h.a«f i;.^ m '
...^**%H
oU^tA.
RHETORICAL.
<• On the Earl's cheek the flash of ra^e
Ihe Douglas in his hall?
tl Tt y ""'''' ^^^^ to go? ^
^0 1 byStBrideofBothwell, nol ^ ^
Updrawbndge,groo.s, whaUarcIar hof
Let the portcullis fall." ' '
5. Lord Marmion turned,-well w.« h'
And dashed the rowels ^1 . .L; "^^7
Like arrow throuQ-h tl- ami.
•/ ,J» Paas there was such scanty „<„„
'..t- The bars, descending, ,,i,edhLplZ
•• The steed along the drawbridge flies
Just as .t trembled on the rise .
Nor hghter does the swalb,. ,k'im
Along: the smooth lake's lev, " bri™ • P i
And w e„ i,„, ^^^^.^^ reach d™.,-si
He halts, and turns with clinched and .' . '
And shout of loud defiance pours ' ""'■ K '
I tl^ ^''<;* '"-^ gauntlet at the to'wers
\ j >, . "Horse horse I" t ho -n, i cowers.
'' -r„ B. s.u he Ltd K-Cc;:--- "^-'''
A royal messenger he came,
Thoiigh most unworthy of the name.
Aletterfo..gedI St. Jude to spe^d ,'
Did ever kn.ght so foul a deed? J
^ S . Mary mend my fiery ,„od, I,;;
TisX fV^ '" ^^^ere he stood.
A'S pity of hnn, too," ho cried ;
n
72
THE SIXTH READER.
'' Bold can he speak and fairly ride,-
1 -varrant him a warrior tried."
With this his -nandate he recalls,
And slowly see lis his castle's halls.
8ro^,
^C*\<£.
10. THE Si/MMER OF KINGS.
J WAS one evening on the Ohio, when the river wa.
-»• swollen with recent rains. The .-u-r-nt ^vu^ ^.. • ~
q..-ck,,, b„.,ith . placidity which :e™i:;.d ..r f ! r ']
provcrt,, ,1,,. ..s„,„„,h watc- n,„s deep." It wa. e:..lV;„
May. . ., „kv ..^3 pare. Thin clouds, with softened outlines
the north.
p- idy with one another, were moving towards
'-- wn.s Sdmethin^ in the air vhich, if not
vivifyirif?, if v.r^ genial, was quietTng,
2. It wa« an evening when good^'hearts migi^t have been
"hi ''''\}T''^^^^^' '' "^* -^th'n.nrnf:h!::
^ot with the mourntulness which comes from anguish, and
pervades our nature as if with faint pulsations of a sabsidin!
struggle but with that mournfulness which accompanies the
recollections of home and is tempered a.d sweetened and
up with the love of old scenes and faces, and the hope o
seeing them once more. ^
3 From the various incidents that were going on in the
boat about me, and the varying features of the scene through
which we were gliding, I turned to one object, which L
more forcibly than the rest, attracted my attention It was a
sycamore-tree--a noble-looking tree ; noble in its proportions
noble in Its profusipn, noble in its promise
in.^'ot"'^.^' ^"'^' "'"'"!'' ''' °" ''' *°P™"^* ^^^"«b««' «trik.
ing out their wings and uttering their quick notes of joy
Oh I with what u sweet thrill came forth the liquid scng from
hat waving, sparkling foliage, and how confident h . de the
O^tM ,ooker.on, that the tree from which it gushed in a sa^
Dainglinc str«amo ^..-v„l,i c^^nA .i,t 1 p • u i
a „ . ^.tu oiana and iiourioh, f. 1 - forth its
\
RHETOEICAL.
TB
SJCfCff;
' river -waA
"ds paesincT
J of ih« old
'18 eaily in
ed outlines,
ng" towards
Jich, if not
have been
>nrnfulness.
g'uish, and
«. subsiding
ipanies the
ned and lit
16 hope of
on in the
le through
which, far
It was a
'oportions,
hes, strik-
es of joy
8C ng from
vj.i.^de the
t\ isand
forth its
/\4Mk^v^
beanty, and rojoice ra the fragrant breath „f .1,
"ippVr ettrhaAiritrr ■• f --'- --
f-Nrte-ed like bones, whitened iTth ^ "■'■"' ""'' *'«'y
which tumbled through them and 1 ''Jr "''" ""= ^'"«'
One hold a,„„e it seeLd t hC B^ t e'^"!' *",' °'" "'>^"'-
was busy upon that : even a, ull- aL ""P'""^ *''"«'"'
«a w™. the »out;r;'i;i'S .^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ">
!<« feet. The next flood ^de.riL' ''*°™ °''°''"' »'
And down „,„st come hat lord of hi r '""'" ^"' '"^^
honor,, ..ith all his strenffTh wfa. !,l h' '"'l "'"' "" ""
morsclesB river shall tTss hi .t i' ""'^'' ' ""«' "■« ™-
«"S bim up again, te^-'al'^^*'* »"- -d then ^^
and breaking his proud limbs u,t I two 1 "'•/"l' """'''"S
on some stagnant swamp, tired of the hT "°"'' "'"'"'•
^4:t::no:iirwi:htr ^r^'^^-pe^" .
''""■OS of their palaces ■ the WT \ '""'*'""'' S"'^ *«
'»"•" along tbose^whrCs „i Wnwh^h . "™'"' "■""' '"-^"^
» that of Xer«s, are encamped" ''«'"'"'' ''°"°*"
oA'r oiZtf IX: """rr '-^ '-''■ " ■•» ««»
Ponnons of silk and flolr/f t f '''''''=• '^''"^ ^
Boauty is clustered the 7 : i::"! "" '""'°°« Wrance. T^ ..^
•nd warriors of the cities are ^7^ 7"""'- ^"^ *« f""'^'
m. ^ "° P'""'=d »nd harnessed for the
^-ttt:: rdrtr:? t^"°^' °' »""^' "^ ->-
.»mblcd likewise b h, wl / ,"' ""' °">" '"-""onario,,
and the „„i,|ie „.,„:' ""'f ■'J^ <=<'«''"ne- The markeCnl.~..
-"t wi.h flo,:,"';::.!,:"!:" ""/'f "^ "«'--^- '^-^^^
^
74
THE HIXTH BEADER.
flags. And there are gay procoesions through the streeta,
and market-choruses, and barges with carved and gilded
l^rows and silken awnings fringed and tasselled richly, all
laden with revelry, gliding up and down the river. ^U.vi
10. The sun goes down, yet the sky is bright— brighter than
at noon. There is a broad avenue walled on either side, and
arched with fire. There are fountains of fire, pillars of fire,
temples of fire ("temples of immortality," they call them)*
arches of fire, pyramids of fire. The fable of the phoenix is
more than realized. Above that mass and maze of flames, an^''
eagle, feathered with flames, spreads his gigantic wings, and
mounts and expands, until tower, and dome, and obelisk are
spanned.
11. Visions of Arabian Nights visit the earth again. The
wealth and wonders of Nineveh are disentombed. The festi-
val costs one million sixteen hundred francs; all done to
order. It is summer with the kings ; aye, summer with the
kings. Bright leaves are upon and life and song are among
them : but death is at the root. The next flood and the proud
lord shall be uprooted and the waters shall beat him away-
when they have stripped him of his finery they shall fling him
m upon the swamp to rot. Such shall be the fate of the
European kings, European aristocracies, European despotisms
Who will lament it ? Who would avert it ?
12. What though it is now summer with the kings ? What
though the evil ones have been exalted, and th0 perjured have
been named holy, and the blood of the people is mixed with
the wine of the princes, and illuminations bewilder the mem-
ory of those who mourn, and the gibbet is disguised in lamps
and flowers and the relics of imperial wars, and the desolate
laugh hysterically in their intoxication, and the reign of the
wicked IS a jubilee, and he spreadeth himself like a green
bay-tree, and his power ig supreme ? What recks it? It shall
pass like the dream of the drunkard. _,
BHETORICAL.
76
11. EXTEMPORE OR SIGHT READING.
rrO read a piece the first time with a good distinef
elegance, distin ^hinV^^r ^ Z^t 'Z^Tl ^"^
natural, forcible, and varied emphasis aid thV .^ '
XL:i:::t:trt2::s::ru^
tures, the reader must be in possession If th ' ' '"^ ^''■
do it well. possession of these requisites to
belul^d^'LdTf'Ihr 1 ''."""' *'"^ ^^^"-•*- -e to
De louDd and if the reader has studied them carefully with
elvt "^.!° "" "'^^"^^^ ^^^ "^°^"^-*-- of the Vote
he may then attempt to read at sight the following secIZ'
the^ selections, and progressing gradually to the most diffi.
3. To read well at sight is a difficult performance • bnf if n.
fine ic.;pH,h™ „ , xrs ti'imZrr''^- ■"""
» perhaps the i'^s>^UteizzvT:i'':xrr'
and,ah„r bestowed io ita acquirement :ffl"4h;tep:;r:
m the pleasure he wil, afford those who u,a, hear UZli
4. To render s.ght-reading perfectly easy, if the readrwill
^t h.s eye a little beyond the point at wh ch he ifread-^f
h« exero.se will enable him to anticipate the sen f wS
fo lows and .n time he will be able to take into his miL .
whole clause or sentence at a glance of tie eye
76
THE SIXTH READER.
13. THr JAMPAC^TA OF ROME.
PERHAPS tir e if <u. more impressive scene on earth than
the solitary extent of the Carapugna of Romo under
evening light. Let the reader imagine himself for a moment
withdrawn from the sounds and motion of the li'ssing world,
and sent forth alone into this wild and wc;:4r- ' plain. The earth
y^o&fpelds and crumbles beneath his leet, tread he ever so lightly,
for its substance is white, hollow, and carious, like the dusty
wrck of the bones of men. The long-knotted grass waves
and tosses feebly in the evening wind, and the shadows of its
motion shake feverishly along the banks of rivers that lift
the'^.Lselves to the sunlight. Hillocks of mouldering earth heave
around him, as if the dead beneath were struggling in their
»leep ; scattered blocks of black stones — four-square remnants
«..f mighty edifices, not one left upon another — lie upon them to
reep them down. (^«^vu><
2. A dull, poisonous haze stretches level along the decc- c,
r'ailing its spectral wrecks of mossy ruins, on whose rents the
/sJ light rests like dying fire on defiled altars. The blue ridge
»'f the Alban Mount lifts itself against a solemn space of green,
dear, quiet sky. Watch-towers of dark clouds stand stead-
fastly along the promontories of the Apennines. From the plain
to the mountains, the shattered aqueducts, pier beyond pier,r
melt into the darl - sss like shado y and countless troops of
funeral mourners p. ;.;iing irom a uuiion's grave.
RUSKIH.
13. MONK FELIX.
[In this poem, Lon«;fellow has given in iweet i lythm on* of the toucliliig cM
blends of the Middle Ages.]
ONE. morning all ne,
Out of his conv< it of gray stone,
Into me lOrest oider, darker, griiycr,
His lips moving as if in prayer,
BHETOBIOAL.
His head sunken upon his breast
As in a dioarn of rest,
Walked the Monk Felix. All about
The broad, sweet sunshine lay without,
Filling- the summer air ;
And within the woodlands as he trod
The twilight was like the truce of God
With .worldly woe and care.
77
a. Under him lay the golden moss ;
And above him th. boughs of the hemlock trees
Waved, and made the sign of ^'^e cross,
And whispered their Benedicites ;
A;id from the ground
Rose an odor, sweet and fragrant,
Of the wild-flowers^and the vagrant o.w.L
Vines that wandered,
Seeking the sunshine' round and round •
Th ^se he heeded not,, but pondered sW
Oii the volume in his hand,
A voh, ne of St. Augustine,'
Wh. .ein he read of the unseen
Splendors . lod's great town
In the unknu..n Ifind,
And, with his eyes cast do^n,
In humility he said :
" I believe,«0 God,
What herein I have read,
But, alas I I do not understand \»
8. And lo I he heard
The sudden singing of a bird,
A snow-white bird, that from 'a cloud
Dropped down,
And among the branobea brown
Sat singing
Cvftv
78
THE SIXfH READER.
^
.'JfL
i^-n
So sweet, and clear, and loud,
It seemed a thousand harp-strings ringing.
And the Monk Felix closed his book,
And long, long,
With rnptur us look,
Ho listened to the song,
And hardly breathed or stirred, /*H4t
Until he saw, as in a vision,
The land of Elysian,
And in the heavenly city heard
Angelic feet
Fall on the golden flagging of the street. l^^^^K
And he would fain have caught the wondrous bird,
,But sh-ove in vain ;
For it flew away, away,
Far over hill and dell, C^J^>^/t-
And instead of its sweet singing
He heard the convent bell
Suddenly in the silence ringing
For the service of noonday.
And he retraced
His pathway homeward, sadly and in haste.
4. In the convent there was a change I
He looked for each well-known face.
But the faces were new and strange ;
New figures sat in the oaken stalls,
New voices chanted in the choir ;
Yet the place was the sa»3?c j^Iace,
The same dusty walls
Of cold gray stone ;
The same cloisters, and belfry, and 8pir&
A stranger and alone
Among that brotherhood
The Monk Felix stood.
XJ.
va
oas bird,
(u
BHETOBICAL.
^'' Forty years," aaid a friar,
"Have I been prior
Of this convent in the wood ;
Btit for that space,
Never have I behe'ld thy face I"
6. The heart of the Monk Felix fell •
And he answered with submissive' tone,
This morning after the hour of Prime
I left my cell,
And wandered forth alone,
Listening all the time
To the melodious singing
Of a beautiful white bird,
Until I heard
The bells of the convent ringing
Noon from their noisy towers. '
It was as if I dreamed ;
For what to me had seemed
Moments only, had been hours I"
7. "Years I" said a voice close by
It was an aged monk who spoke,
From a bench of oak
Fastened against the wall ;
He was the oldest monk of all.
For a whole century
Had he been there,
Serving God in prayer.
The meekest and humblest of his creatui*,
He remembered well the features
Of Felix, and he said,
Speaking distinct and slow :
" One hundred years ago.
When I was a nnvin^ ;„ xi.«_ »
»_ - -« tiiis place,
There was here a monk full of God^s grace,
79
fev*l
®^ THE SIXTH READEB.
Who bore the name
Of Felix, and this man must be the same.»
I.I
8 And straightway .
They brought forth to the light of day
A volume old and brown,
A huge tome, bound
In brass and wild boar's hide, ^v^l. Lt^
Wherein was written down »
The names of all who had died
In the convent since it was edified.
And there they found,
Just as the old monk said,
That on a certain day and date.
One hundred years before,
Had gone forth from the convent gate
The Monk Felix, and never more
Had entered that sacred door.
He had been counted among the dead I
And they knew, at last,
That such had been the power
Of that celestial and immortal song,'
A hundred years had passed,
And had not seemed so long as a single hour f
LONQFBLLOW.
14. DESCRIPTION OF THE RUINS AT BALBEC.
VyE rose wi^h the sun, whose first rays struck on the
^ temn les of Balbec, and gave to those mysterious ruins
...at ec/a^ which his brilliant light ever throws over scenes;
which It Illuminates. Soon we arrived, on the northern side,'
at tue foot of the gigantic walls which surround those beauti-
ful remams. A clear stream, flowing over a bed of granite,
murmured around the enormous blocks of stone, fallen from
--- top of the wall, which obstructed its course. Beautiful
RHETORICAL.
81
sculptures were half concealed in +1, i- -^
passed the H™,et by a„ arltl' ^ b^ t eT" fanlr" ""^
and mounti„g a narrow breach were soon L Z''."""/'""'""'.
of the scene which surrounded „s °" '" '"^'°™''"°
ocnpose,, was /„re%t. ^n'S .-f r^:!; fX'" "''
in breadth, and as much in heiriit Th. f ^ °' *"=
one npon the other, and ^^^X^ZV^^XTl 7'""''
Egyptian sculpture At a «,-. i , *^^ ^"'^'^'^ ^^
enor™o„ssto„L;enot;a::t.t::;;::,:- ttt-
cian and Eomau citizens ' "'" "™ "°'°"^ "^ «*
S. When we readied the summi* nf th u
knew not to what object first toZ a,l sid ' °" '"^
of marble, of nrodirrio,,, b„,- i . . *'"'''' weregal^s
niches, fri'n JwX, ric !»; r """""''""'^ ' "■"^»™ - i
nices, of enlb,a,„res or aoTal "th- V ""? ^'^^^ "^ "^ ^^^^
-r feet ; rn.,nm<.n; ZZTof'^T o^\'r '""'°''' '^
where a chaos pf confused beautv tb. "'"' ' "'""7-
scattcred about, or piled ™ ryj^^,::::™ "/a^ef '7
HeriiiXrrr^r"-^^^^^^^^^^^^^
i. . ., ,. '''^'"P'-s dt cussit7cation, or coniectnrp nf fv,^ i • i
of .nj^ ,„gs to which the greater par't of tSZt^^"
4. After passing through this scene of ruined m» , B
we reached an ,„„er wall, which we al o Z^uZ'IT'-
Its summit the view of the i„t„,-,v,. ■^^""ea , and from
.cc o ;ti;r:rf:eT„::irb= em-; ::■;
tl'Ht platform were a .erics of lesser ^Inl . ^''"""'^
orated with nJ.h ^ • , temples, or chapels, dpn.
4*
S2
THE SIXTH BEADER.
who had seen the severe siraplicity of the Parthenon or the
Coliseum.
5. But how prodigious the accumulation of architectural
riches in the middle of an Eastern desert I Combine in imag-
ination the temple of Jupiter Stator, and the Coliseum at Rome,
of Jupiter Olympius, and the Acropolis at Athens, and yoa
will yet fall short of that marvellous assemblage of admirable
edifices and sculptures. Many of the temples rest on columns
seventy feet in height, and seven feet in diameter, yet com-
posed only of two or three blocks of stone, so perfectly joined
together that to this day you can barely discern the lines of
their junction. Silence is the only language which befits man
when words are inadequate to convey his impressions. We
remained mute with admiration, gazing on the eternal ruins.
6. The shades of night overtook us while we yet rested in
amazement at the scene by which we were surrounded. One
by one they enveloped the columns in their obscurity, and
added a mystery the more to that magical and mysterious
work of time and man. We appeared, as compared with tlie
gigantic mass and long duration of these monuments, as the
swallows which nestle a season in the crevices of the capitals,
without knowing by whom, or for whom, they have been con-
structed.
7. The thoughts, the wishes, which moved these masses, are
to us unknown. The dust of marble which we tread beneath
our feet knows more of it than we ; but it cannot tell U3
what it has seen ; and in a few ages the generations which
shall come, in their turn to visit our monuments, will ask, in
like manner, wherefore we have built and engraved, Tho
works of man survive his thought* Movement is the law of
the human mind ; the definite is the dream of his pride and
bia ignorance. Lamabtiot.
EHETORICAL.
15. THE CONTICT SHIP.
M'
TORN on the waters I and purple and bright,
Bursts on the billows the flushing of light ; t/l^
O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun,
See ! the tall vessel goes gallantly on ;
Pull to the breeze she unbosoms her slil, ^*^
And her pennon streams onward, like hope, in the gale; ^f^^
The winds come around her, in murmur and song.
And the surges rejoice ^they bear her along ; '
Seel she looks up to the golden-edged clouds,
And the sailor sings gayly aloft in the shrouds. ^I.a^ U^'^
a. Onward she glides, amid ripple and spray, ' .^ ) J^
O'er the rough waters,— away, and away !
Bright as the visions of youth, ere they part.
Passing away like a dream of the heart 1
Who,— as the beautiful pageant sweeps by, *fvicMA- ,
Music around her, and sunshine on high,—
Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow, '
Oh ! there are hearts that are breaking' below I
8. Night on the waves I— and the moon is on high.
Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky,
Treading its depths in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light I
Look to the waters I— asleep on their breast, i*^
Seems not the ship like an island of rest ?
Bright aiid alone on the shadowy main, W.>r woa-
Like a heavtK3heri:.'ied home on seme desolate plain t
4. Who,— as she smiles in the silvery light.
Spreading her wings on the bosom of niUt,
Aitmv on the deep, as the moon in the »ky,
A phaiitom of beauty -could deem with a sigh, Aw-
HJjLujf"
84 THE SIXTH READER.
That 80 lovely a thing is the maiidion of sin,
And that souls that are smitten, lie burstinff within?
5. Who, — as he watches her silently gliding,
Remembers that wave after wave is dividing
Bosoms that sorrow and guilt conld not sever,— A^J.-^
Hearts w iich are parted and broken for ever?
Or deems that he watches, afloat on the wave.
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's grave ?
6. 'TIS thus with our life, while it passes along,
Like a vessel at sea, amidst sunshine and song I
Gayly we glide, in the gaze of the world.
With streamers afloat, and with canvas unfurled ; W^
All gladness and glory, to wandering eyes.
Yet chartered by sorrow, and freighted with sighs •
Fading and false is the aspect it wears,
As the smiles we put on, just to cover our tears ;
And the withepng thoughts which the world cannot know
Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below ;
While the vessel drives on to that desolate shore,
Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er.
T. K. Hbbvbt.
I^XJA^
16. MOUNTAINS.
rpHANKS be to God for mountains ! The variety which
J- they impart to the glorious bosom of our planet were no
fcraall advantage ; the beauty which they spread out to our
vision in their woods and waters ; their crags and slopes, their
clouds and atmospheric hues, were a splendid gift ; the sub-'
limity which they pour into our deepest souls from their Dia-
jestic aspects ; the poetry which breathes froin their streams,
and dolls, and airy heights, from the sweet abodes, the garbs'
and manners of tlf-Ar inhabitants, the songs and lee-ends
wbieji iiave awofce jm them, were a. proud heritage to imagin-
RHETORICAL.
85
ative minds ; but what are all these when the thought comes
that without mountains the spirit of man m.ist have bowed
to the brutal and the base, and probably have sunk to the mo-
Botonous level of the unvaried plain ?
2 When I turn my eyes upon the map of the world, and
behold how wonderfully the countries where our faith was
nurtured, where our liberties were generated, where our phi.
Josophy and literature, the fountains of our intellectual erace
and beauty, sprang up, were as distinctly walled out by God's
hand with mountain ramparts, from the eruptions and inter
ruptions of barbarism, as if at the especial prayer of the early
fathers of man's destinies, I am lost in an exalting admiration
3. Look at the bold barriers of Palestine I see how the infant
liberties of Greece were sheltered from the vast trib.js of the
uncivilized north by the heights of HEemus and Rhodope 1 be-
hold how the Alps describe their magnificent crescent, in-
cming their opposite extremities to the Adriatic and Tyr-
h / ^;.^f' ;°«k^"^ "P Italy from the Gallic and Teutonian
hordes till the power and spirit of Rome had reached their
jnatur.ty, and she had opened the wide forest of Europe to the
1 ght, spread far her laws and language, and planted the seeds
ot many mighty nations 1
4. Thanks to God for mountains ! Their colossal .mnes* '
seems almost to break the current of time itself; the geologist
in them,searche8 for traces of the earlier world ; and it is thL '
too, that man, resisting the revolutions of lower regions, re-'
tos through innumerable years his habits and his rights
While a multitude of changes have remoulded the people of
Europe ; while languages, and laws, and dynasties, and creeds
have passed over it like shadows over the la^Kiscape, the chil^
ren of the Celt and the Goth, who fled t. .he m' ^ilintl
housand years ago, are found iLe.. o w. and nhow us in fa.u
and figure, in language and .a,rb ...at their fathers were"
«how us a fii.e coniraet with th. n,od.m tribes dwelling, below
and around ^-Jw^rn . ...,a ~j =' "^'""
mivhni'fh. " ' /"" r^ ""' "'"'^•^'^*^''' »ow adverse is the
p.ru of the mountain to .cuUbility, *nd that there the %r.
iioart of fre..d«m is fouud tor «Tflr ,^ ^
86
THE SIXTH READBB.
ftUM»^i*-
dk4A<
.tlwJij*V
17. lEELAND AND THE IRISH
[C. E. Lester \b wide and expansive in his writings, generous in his fee Jngs,
and truly American in his mind and heart. His view of "Ireland unde*
English Oppression," In his admirable work entitled "Condition and Fata
of England," ia one of the most eloquent essays in the English language.]
TRELAND still has an existence as a nation. She has hor
■■- universities and her literature. She is still the "Emerald
Isle of the Ocean." An air of romance and chivalry is around
her. The traditionary tales that live in her literature invest
her history with heroic beauty. But she has no Meed of thesa
Real heroes, the O'Neils, the O'Briens, and the Emmets, will
be remembered as long as self-denying patriotism and uncon-
querable valor are honored among men.
2. In every department of literature she will take her place.
Where is the wreath her shamrock does not adorn? Where
the muse that has not visited her hills ? Her harp has ever
kindled the soul of the warrior and soothed the sdrrows of
the broken-hearted. It has sounded every stvain that can
move the human heart to greatness or to love. Whatever
vices may stain her people, they are free from the crime of
voluntary servitude. Tht ' ;.^hmau is the man last to be
subdued. Possessing an elasticity of character that will rise
under the heaviest oppression, he wants only a favorable op-
portunity and a single spark to set him in a blaze. '^'*ji\:-
3. The records of religious persecutions in all countries
have nothing more hideous to oft'er to our notice than the
Protestant persecutions of the Irish Catholics. On them, all
the devices of cruelty were exhausted. Ingenuity was taxed
to devise new plans of persecution, till the machinery of penal
iniquity might almost be pronounced perfect. The great Irish
chieftains and landlords were purposely_goaded into rebellion,
that they might be branded as traitors, and their lauds confis.
catcd for the benefit of English adventurers. Such was the
course adopted towards Earl Desmond, a powerful chief of
was the treaiiueut of O'Neii. Wfaeu
1.
aisO
iiffinn • tKaf i
BHETORICAL.
87
Queen Elizabeth heard of the revolt of the latter, she re-
marked to her courtiers: "It would be better for her ser-
vants, as there would be estates enough for them all »
4. This single expression of Elizabeth reveals the entire
policy of the Euglish Government towards Ireland. That in-
pred cointry was the great repast at which every monarch -
bade h.s lords sit down and eat. After they had gorged their ^'
fill, the remains were left for those who came after. Tran-
qui hty succeeded these massacres, but it was the tranquillity
of the grave-yard. The proud and patriotic Irishmen were
olded in the .leep of death, and the silence and repose around -^
fcbeir liteless corpses were called peace.
" They made a solitude.
And called it peace."
5. Often a great chief, possessed of large estates, was pur-
posely driven by the most flagrant injustice and insults into
open rebellion, that he might be branded as a traitor, and his
rich possessions, by confiscation, revert to the English vam-
pyres that so infested the land. Every cruelty and outrage
that can dishonor our nature was perpetrated in these unjust
wars by English leaders and English soldiers. Cities were
-acked, villages burned, and the helpless and the youn^
Hlaughtered by thousands. A record of these scenes of crime
and blood we cannot furnish. It is written, however, on every
oot of Irish soil, and in the still living memories of many aa
Irish heart. "^
C. £DWii»D8 LEarm.
18. THE DUELLIST'S HONOR.
/TONOR is the acquisition and preservation of the dignity
^ of our nature: that dignity consists in its perfection;
aiat perfection is found in observing the laws of our Creator •
he laws of the Creator are the dictates of reason and of re
lljrion • fJiQf id +K« „i /. . .
'' '-"^^ -"BUI va,;ice or wnai He teaches us by the
natural light of our own minds, and by the special reve-
88
THE SIXTH READER.
cAjO-^w^
iations of His will manifestly given. They both concut
in teaching us that individuals have not the dominion of
their own lives; otherwise, no suicide would be a criminal.
They concur in teaching us that we ought to be amenable to
the laws of the society of which we are members ; otherwise,
morality and honor would be consistent with tho violation of
law and the disturbance of the social system.
2. They teach us that society cannot continue to exist where
the public tribunals are despised or undervalued, and the re-
dress of injuries withdrawn from the calm regulation of public
justice, for the purpose of being committed to the caprice of
private passion, and the execution of individual ill-will ; there-
fore, the man of honor abides by the law of God, reveres the
statutes of his country, and is respectful and amenable to its
authorities. Such, my friends, is what the reflecting portion
of mankind has always thought upon the subject of honor.
This was the honor of the Greek ; this was t'e honor of the
Roman ; this the honor of the Jew ; this the honor of the Gen-
tile ; this, too, was the honor of the Christian, until the super-
stition and barbarity of Northern devastators darkened his
glory and degraded his character.
3. Man, then, has not power over his own life; much
less is he justified in depriving another human being of life. .
Upon what ground can he who engages in a duel through the
fear of ignominy, lay claim to courage ? Unfortunate delin-
quent ! Do you not see by how many links your victim was
bound to a multitude of others ? Does his vain and idle resig-
nation of his title to life.absolve yon frou-) the enormous claims
which society has upon you for his services— his family for
Ihat support, of which you have robbed them without yom
own enrichment ?
4. Go, stand over that body ; call back that soul which yon
bave driven from its tenement ; take up that hand which your
pride refused to touch, not one hour ago. You have, in your
pride and wrath, usurped one prerogative of God. You have
iuflickjU u«aiii. At least, iu mercy, attempt the exorcise of
19. EMOTIONJ
majesty in this
RHETOEICAL.
89
another ; breathe iuto those distended nostrils-let your brother
be once more a living soul! Me. .m1 Father I Low power
less are we for good, but how rnignty for evil I Wretched
man I he does not answer-he cannot rise. All your efforts
to make him breathe are vain. His soul is already in the
presence of your common Creator 1 Like the wretched Cain
will you answer, "Am I my brother's keeper ?»
6. Why do you turn away from the contemplation of your
own honorable work ? Yes. go as far as you will, still the ad.
monition will ring in your ears : II rvas by your hand he fell/
The horrid instrument of death is still in that hand, and the
8tain of blood upon your soul. Fly, if you will-go to that
house which you have filled with desolation. It is the shriek
of his widow-they are the cries of his children-the broke,*
sobs of his parent; and. amidst the wailings, you distinctly
hear the voice of imprecation on your own guilty head I Will
jonr honorable feelings be content with this? Have vou
rww had abundant and gentlemanly satisfaction ?
Bishop Enoiakd.
19. EMOTIONS ON RETURNING TO THE UNITED STATES, 1837.
giR, I dare not trust myself to speak of my country with th«,
^ rapture which I habitually feel when I contemplate her
marvellous history. But this I will say-that on my return
to It after an absence of only four years, I was filled with
wonder at all I saw and all I heard.
2. What is to be compared with it? I found New York
grown up to almost double its former size, with the air of
* great capital, instead of a mere flourishing commercial
town as I had known it. I listened to accounts of voyao^es
a thousand miles in magnificent steamboats on the waters
of those great lakes, whicli. but the other day, I left sloep-
>"g m the primeval silence of nature, in the recesses of a
vast WlldfirnPfaia • anA T PoU U...J. j.v
- „. „n.. . ,eit Liiui ujure is a grandeur and a
"i^ajesty m this irresistible onward march of a race, created, as
90
THE SrXTH RBAPRR.
*hf; ^r^ Ti ^'T' '^ """"^ accustomed to such thing.
that hey shall make as little impression upon our minds as
heglones of the heavens above us; but, looking on them
Enghsh traveller ,8 said to have remarked, that, far from being
Without poetry, as some have vainly alleged, our whole
country IS one great poem.
4. Sir, it is so ; and if there be a man that can think of what
hpll-T' T f P"'*' '' '^'' '^''' ^^''''^ °^ ^» lands, to em-
bellish and advance it-who can contemplate that living mass
of mtelhgence, activity and improvement, as it rolls on in
. rts sure and steady progress, to the uttermost extremities of
•.the West-who can see scenes of savag-e desolation trans-
formed almost with the suddenness of enchantment, into those
of frmtfulness and beauty, crowned with flourishing cities
filled With the noblest of all populations-.if there be a man
I say, that can witness all this, passing under his very eyes'
wrthou^ feel. .. ..a heart beat high, and his imajnaLu
warmed and tn.H.ported by it, be sure, sir, that the raptures
of song e^^tnot for him ; he would listen in vain to Tasso or
Camoens telhng a tale of the wars of knights ,nd crusaders,
or of the discovery and conquest of another hemisphere.
LEGASfi.
20. AFAR IN THE DESERT.
CThlB piece h characterized by great feeUng and high descriptive poweni
A PAR in the desert I love to ride,
■^ With the silent Bush boy, alone 'by my side.
When the sorrows of life the soul o'ercast
And sick of the present I cling to the past, ,'^,,u
When the eye is suffused with regretful tears.
From the fond recollections of former years,
RHETORICAL.
Continent,
ior il or ma«
uch thing?
r minds aa
J on them,
at a recent
from being
our whole
nk of what
ids, to em-
ving mass
>lls on, in
empties 0/
ion trans-
into those
ng cities,
>e a man,
i'ery eyes,
agination
raptures
Tasso or
srusaders,
re.
n
And shadows of things ti)at have lor.g since fled
Iht over the brain like the ghosts of the dead ;
Bright visions of gh.ry that vanished too sc.m ;
Day-dream, that departed ere manhood's noon •
Attachments by fate or by falsehood reft
Companions of early days, lost or left '
And my native land-whose magical name
Ihrlli to the heart like electric flame-
The home of my childhood, "the haunt's of my primo'' .^-te^
A^ the passions and scenes of that rapturous'tim- ' ^
^k«V f I T ""''" y""°^ ^°^ '^'^ ^"^-'d was uow
All .n' '. 'T" °' ^'^" ""^-^^^-^ to view ; ' -'
All-all ,.w iorsaken-forgotten-foregone-
And 1-a poor exil •, remembered of none.
My high aims aba,, '.ned-my good acts undone -
Aweary of all that is under the sun
i ay ) the deserl^afar from man. - ^
8. Afar in the desert I love to ride
With the silont Bush boy aluae by my side.
When the Hd turmoil of this wearis<nne life,
With .« scenes of corruption, oppression, and strife^
III T ?T '"""' ^"^ ^^^ b-« --'« fear-
The scorner's laugh, and the sufferer's tear-
And mahce, and meanness, and falsehood, and folly
- Dispo... me to musing and sad melancholy; '''
, 7^f "^y l>««om is full, and my thoughts are high
An my soul is sick with the bondsmLs sigh, ^ '
aI n'th r " 'r'"'" ^"' j'^^' -^ P-dV
Atar m the desert alone to ride 1
, Aiid to bound away with the eagle's soeed \~J
k^ With the death^franght firelock- in my hlld-
Ihe only law of the desrrt land I
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93
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
..-^
"UKj-uXr
8. Afar in the desert I love to ride,
With the silent Bush boy alone by my side.*
Away— away from the dwellings of men,
By the wild deer's haunt, by the buffalo*s glen ; !fr>lLvi
By valleys remote, where the oribi plays^
Where the gnu, the gazelle, and the hifrtdbeest graze
Where the kuder and eland unhunted recline,
By the skii-ts of gray forest overhung with wild vine j
Where the elephant ^)rowse8 at peace in his wood.
And the river-horse gambols, unscared in the flood;fc^«A.i-
Where the fleet-footed ostrich, over the waste,
Speeds like a horseman who travels in haste,
Hieliig away to the home of her rest.
Where she and her mate have scooped their nest,
Far hid from the pitiless plunderer's view,
In the pathless depths of the parched karroo. -Vtiv^
4. And here while the night winds round me sigh, ^u)i-^t".'
And the stars burn bright in the midnight sky,
As I sit apart by the desert stone,
Like Elijah at Horeb's cave alone,
A still, small voice comes through the wild
(Like a father consoling his fretful child),
Which banishes bitterness, wrath, and fear ;
Saying: "Man is distant, but God is near." Panreu.
ei,^"^M. 21. POST NUMMOS VIRTUS.
A VARICE is the besetting sin of the age. Ours is, em-
-^ phatically, the enlightened age of dollars and cents! Ita
motto is . Post ncmmos virtus ;— money first, virtue afteb-
RTARDS I Utilitarianism is the order of the day. Every thing
is estimated in dollars and cents. Almost every order and
profession— our literature, our arts, and our sciences-all
worship in the temple of Mammon.
BHETOEICAL.
93
week ; that of „a„,n,o„fs olZlt' °."'^ °^ ""^ '" *=
of gold. Tl,e fever of avaZ ' ""■ .^""^ """S ^-""oks ..U.
Mood of ,„ people. Hance hat ^T""?*' ""= ""^ '"'«''» ^
■i^lyrioh; he„ce that everL; /I*" ':"'" ^° 'f™'""«»-
benoe broken con«tituti„„rZi f f *'? "^ "^ PoP-l^'on ;
bave not discovored the nUir„l'^?"""°''= "" »?«• « we
been f,r want of the .eek 1 ?? ^ "°"°' " '""' «"«-y not
'--^ .-"to «o,d, it is rTaini' :oTr ■"^°7°' "°' ^«
CKrtions for this purpose "'" "'^ "°--»asing ^,
«oSr;:dVr ti:,,"r -^"•-■^ ^-» ""■•■' »-
«l.onld chance suddenly „ entlr 1 7 '"? '''^"'°' '"'■"'^ »
i»«-l.onse8; if he ehonldlookaMt .."""■ •^''*°'^^* "'">'
on which people are seen c„ J, r Xtr '''^•™:'™-^ -ts,
at the naked walls, and the „ er^ ^°^' ""'' *''™ S^'"""" S--^'
Mblems and associations In tt ."!'™""'™' "'' "" '•'='«'»°»
»ouM almost conclude irhf ad ::r "/ '"^ """'"•"*- "o
B0...e fi„oly.fu™ished lectn J^n^ 1;^: ^'"■"*""-'- '""^
of the day were to be discussed '"''''"'"7 '"P'"
a..d- i^r^J J^ :;: ■ t~:' ""^ -'''- -'" "- --ted .
these shrewd speculators „t ^ "T "" *"'■'=«• ""d *«' ^'■'='«
f- the rent ofLtlra:':^^::",!^-" ''^ -°- f-
original impression would certati " Z T" '"'"'«'"'=■". bi» ^
'be conelnsion would be irreS, n '. \^ ^'='''=™od. But
farther, that, in „rder to sec re Tti'd '!. '!, "'" '"" «'"'
and fashionable, the owne sTf L f I r""""" "^ «"' "oh
fentprecaution to enffZ at », ►","'' '""' """=" ""= Pr»-
eminent preacher I Those wl„\„ 7' '™'' P^P'-'^r an
»f 'be times, will admt LT t i t :T''' *T'^ "■" ^'s-
•nd that it is not even exaggerated "■' '"""^ ^'•''"'''
-;r teXtf ts::r:r ■ x,: :r — -
th-ngs, can we woudor .. thl '^' ^ condition of
*™oo, and Of unb,ii„:Styrrr tletr;
04
ill
1^
l'»v>'^A.l.
THE SIXTH READER.
Horace, our children are taught to calculate, but not to pray
They learn arithmetic, but not religion.
6. The mischievoua maxim, that children must gro^^ up
rt'ithout any distinctive religious impressions, and then, when
(iiey have attained the age of discretion, must choose a re-
ligion for themselves, is frightfully prevalent amongst us.
This maxim is about as wise as would be that of the agri-
culturist who should resolve to permit his fields to lie neg-
lected in the spring season, and to become overgrown with
weeds and briers, under the pretext that, when summer would
come, it would be time enougn to scatter over them the good
seed ! It amounts to this : human nature is corrupt and
downward in its tendency ; let it fester in its corruption, and
become confirmed in its rottenness ; and then it will be time
enough to apply the remedy, or, rather, human nature will
then react and heal itself. mt. Rav. abp. Spaidwo.
23. GRACE DARLING.
TT was in the Fall of 1838, during a terrific storm. a
A noble British stciimer was wrecked upon the dangerous
reefs of Longstone Island, and all night long a portion of the
crew clung to the shattered vessel, with fearful waves dashing
over them. Rocks and dangerous islets lay between them and
the nearest shore, and around these a sea was raging, through
which it did not seem possible any boat could pass. Tha
liongstone lighthouse was a mile distant. At daybreak the
keeper saw the terrible state of the shipwrecked, but feared
to expose himself to certain destruction by going to their aid,
until the earnest entreaties of his young daughter, Grace,
determined him to make the attempt, and nine persons were
rescued by the aid of an old man and a young woman.
2. This h(;rnic deed shot a thrill of sym^^athy and admira-
tion throughout all Europe. The lonely lighthouse became
«H'iiTORICAL.
95
ut not to pray
•kiM**^
the centre of attraction to thousands of travellers • b„f r
preserving her natural n^odesty and ZT'T-' '^"^'
rormer quiet domestic dut^e i Ijoir 1^' 'T""' H^'
happened. She had m-nv .A ,^""^"^ ^" '^ "othing had
but declined them aH elvi.' Jh" ^^T' '^"^ ^' "^^'■"^^«'
Beatmg „o one of th<«e disastrous isl'es-
Mo, a wreck, half-„„ „„,.,. th„^^j
Dao^hter a„d sife throX^pL ,^ rl^"""^
Cl.Bgmg about the remnant Tf thfs shi ,
Creatures, how precious in the .naiden'^ sight
For when, belike, the old man grieves stm L„ ^ >
Thau for their fellowsufferers, engulfed ^"^ ~-
Where every parting agony is hushed, .uM
And hope and fear mix not in open strife. ^
3 "But courage, father I let as out to sea-
A few may yet be saved." The dano-w^, .
Her earnest tone and l„„t . "'.''""S'"^'-'' wrde,
coi- wne ana look beaming with faith
Dispels the father's doubts • '
• • .
Together they put forth, father and child I
Kivals m effort , and a like intent *
Td .h .7 'f •«"«=■■'"«. "»""»lly crossed
And shattered, and regatberiug their might
M
THE SIXTH READER.
Am if tho ttimtilt, by the Almighiy's will,
Wero In tflo cormcious sea roused and prolonged,
That womttfi'a fortitude — so tried, so proved —
May brighton more and more 1
8. t wl+vi^A ''. True to the mark, M*
They stem th« current of that perilous gorge.
Their artm «till strengthening with the strengthening hearf.
Though dtuigcr, as the wreck is neared; becomes
More IminJnont, Not unseen do they approach ;
And raptoro with varieties of fear
Xnctimmitly conflicting, thrills the frames
Of tho«0 who, in that dauntless energy.
Foretaste ddiverance ; but the least perturbed
Can sca/ctily trust his eyes, when he perceives
That of the pair — tossed on the waves to bring
Hope ta thy hopeless, to the dying life —
One I» a woman, a poor earthly sister ;
Or, bo the viwitant other than she seems,
A guardian iipirit, sent from pitying Heaven,
In woman'i Bhapo.
4, ),,^^ But why prolong the tale,
Casting meek words amid a host of thoughts
Armed to repel them? Every hazard faced, ^w»*k«-
And difflctilty mastered, with resolve
That no one breathing should be left to perish.
Tins last remainder of the crew are all
Placed in the little boat, then o'er the deep
Are safely borne, landed upon the beach.
And in folfllmcnt of God's mercy, lodged
Within the sheltering lighthouse.
5, Shout, ye waves.
Send forth h K(mg of triumph. Waves and winds
Exult in thw deliverance wrought through faith
i\A/''^l
^••A^
KHETOBIOAL.
In mm whose providence your rage hath served I
Ye screarnmg sea-mews, in the concert join I
An would that some i.^ortal voice!' voice
Fully attuned to all that gratitude ~
Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips
Blended with praise of that parental love,
Beneath whose watchful- eye the maiden grew
Pious and pure ; modest, and yet so brave ;
Though young, so wise ; though weak, so resolute--
Might carry to the clouds and to the stars
Yea, to celestial choirs, Grace Darling's name I
WOBDSWOBTH.
97
23. THE CHUECH.
2. The proudest royal houses are but of yesterdav whpn
theropubferf Ven ,.f ^'"'"V™" ■>«' - antiquity. Bat
C but mJtr' r""™ °"' '■" ""^^'y' "»' - "-e *a^
-«]m but full of Irfe aud youtlifu] vig-or
3. Ti,, Catholic Church is still ««,di„g forth to the farther
«8
THE SIXTH READER.
ends of the world missionaries as zealous as those who landed
in Kent with Augustin ; and still confronting hostile kings
with the same spirit with which she confronted Attilar. The
number of her children ts greater than in any former age.
Her acquisitions in the New World have more than com-
pensated her for what she has lost in the Old. Her spiritual
ascendency extends over the vast countries which lie between
he plains of Missouri and Cape Horn ; countries which, a con-
tury hence, may not improbably contain a population as large
as that which now inhabits Unrope.
4. The members of her community are certainly not fewer
than one hundred and fifty millions ; and it will be difficult to
show that all the other Christian sects united amount to a
hundred and twenty millions. Nor do we see any sign which
indicates that the term of her long dominion is approaching.
5. She saw the commencement of all the governments and
of all the ecclesiastical establishments that now exist in the
world ; and we feel no assurance that she is not destined to see
the end of them all. She was great and respected before the
Saxon had set foot on Britain — before the Frank had passed the
Rhine— when Grecian eloquence still flourished at Antioch—
when idols were still worshipped in the temple of Mecca.
And she may still exist in undiminished vigor when some trav-
eller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude,
take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch
the ruins of St. Paul's. Macaulxt.
24. THE CHURCH— (Continued.)
«
IS it not strange that in the year 1799 even sagacious oh
servers should have thought that at lengthy the hour of the
Church of Rome had come ? An infidel power ascendant— the
Pope dying in captivity — the most illustrious prelates of
Franf'o livino- in a foreio-n rountrv on Protestant alms — the
coblest edifices which the munificence of former ages had con-
RHETORICAL.
99
2. But the o„d was «t y ' t,7d "'!:''°"-
milk-white hind was fated S,' y I """^ '° <'«''«''. ">e
..-.OS had been perfo™ ^'r/;,, 'l, ^;''" «"« "'O ftnera,
p-cat reaction had oom„encod, tiefrf "' f '"f ""^ ^ixth, .
-. forty years, appears to be'sti a'pr^ „»: IT °[ T™
ts day. A new o, ler of things rose on! ^f I f *^ '""'
dynasties, new laws, new titlesf a ,dLid,tl """""''
ancient religion. The Am,, v j I ™ emerged the
pyramid was built by the a,tdih \ " "'" ''' «-"'
.^; works of „,e„,brtLt:e,r;;tz^^^^^
mined unshaken; and wh;n t 'waZ Zed t" '"' ""
•lone amidst the ruins of a wnrU i-l\ ' ' "mwed
Tke republic of Holland ^as^ tf thf """" '"''^•
may, and the Great Council of Venice 'ndL, 7^ f ""^
late events affected only the t^-rt. , "'^ ^"^" ^^^ ^^^
«nd spirit of society, had, through grea !art !f ^TT'"''''
rope, undergone a con,plete change BuT,/' ^f '^^^'^ ^"•
Cliurch was still there. ^ ""changeable
Maoaulat.
25. THE CRUSADERS APPROACH JERUSALEM i
JIHE purple morning left her crimson bed, ^.o. ^
And donned her robeq nf t-,,,^-, ■,•
Heramberlock. shecolV- °"^"'' '
JK.&H Hfit crowned with roses rpri ' ■ '
In Edeu-s fl„wery_ gardens gather,^ „:;f' '"""^
100
THE SIXTH READER.
When through the camp a murmur shrill was spread,
"Arm ! arral" they cried : "Arml arm !" the trumpets blew;
Their merry noise prevents the joyful blast. ^^''-^
So hum small bees before their swarms they caat. «^-«
1 Their Captain rules their courage, guides their heat ;
Their forwardness he stays with gentle rein; '^
And yet more easy, haply, were the feat, »^^'**
To stop the current near Oharybdis' main,
Or calm the blustering winds on mountains great,
Than fierce desires of warlike hearts restrain:
He rules them yet, and ranks them in their haste,
For well he knows disordered speed makes waste.
«. Feathered their thoughts, their feet in wings weredightj
Swiftly they marched, yet were not tired thereby,
For willing minds make heaviest burdens light:
But when the gliding sun was mounted high, ^
Jerusalem, behold 1 appeared in sight : ,
Jerusalem they view, they see, they spy. 'f ^^
Jerusalem with merry noise they grefet,
With joyful shouts and acclamations sweet.
A»1»
J*-
A. As when a troop of jolly sailors row -u^.v~vu
Some new-found land and country to descry ; Vv.>.m -a.
Through dangerous seas, and under stars unknown.
Thrall to the faithless waves and trothless sky } ^y^
If once the wished shore begin to show,
They all salute it with a joyful cry.
And each to other show the laud in haste,
Forgetting quite their pains and perils past.
B. To that delight which their first sight did breed, i,v>kM
That pleased so the secret of their thought,
A deep repentance did forthwith succeed.
That reverend t'cct and trembling with it brought,
'V^XA.
RHETORICAL.
101
Scantily thoy durst their feeble eyes dispread ' .
Upon that town ^>l.cre Christ was «oId and bc.g-ht,
Whore i,.r our s.ns Ho, nvultles., suffered pain,
Ihere where Ue died, and where He lived again.
Kose from their breasts with joy and pleasure mixed
For thus fears he, the Lord aright that fears- '
*ear on devotion, joy on faith is fixt:
Such noise their passion makes, as when one hears
Ihe hoarse sea-waves roar, hollow rocks betwixt •
Or as the winds in hoults and shady greaves 1^
A murmur makes among the boughs and leaves.
7. Their naked feet trod on the dusty way
They quickly deft, and willing laid aside : '^
Their molten hearts their wonted pride allay '
Along their watery cheeks warm tears down slide.
Ar^ t en such secret speech as this they used
While to himself each one himself accused : '
8. "Flower of goodness, Root of lasting bliss
Thou Well of life, whose streams were ^ur... blood.
Tha flowed here, to cleanse the foul amiss ^
Of sinful man, behold this brinish flood /^ ^
That from my melting heart distilled is
Receive in gree these tears, Lord, s'o good,
For never wretch with sin so over-gone.
', 1 ■
Had fitter time, or greater cause to moan/
'■ TAflsa
109
THE SIXTH RKADEB.
26. THE SULIOTE MOTHER.
SHE stood upon tlio loftiest peak,
Amidst tho clear blue sky :
A bitter sinilo was on her cheek,
And a dark flash in her eye. ijd*w
J^vV-i
"Dost thou sec them, boy? — through the dusky pines,
Dost thou see where the foeman's armor shines?
Hast thou caught the gleam on the conqueror's crest?
My babe, that I cradled on my breast t
. Wouldst thou spring from thy mother's arms with joy
That sight hath cost thee a father, boy !"
For in the rocky strait beneath
Lay Suliote, sire and son ;
They had heaped high the piles of death,
\;'.i
Before the pass was won.
ff^
4. " They have crossed the torrent, and on they come !
Woe for the mountain hearth and home 1
There, where the hunter laid by his spear, |vpMa'<''^^
There, where the lyre hath been sweet to hear.
There, where I sang thee, fair babe, to sleep.
Naught but the blood-stain our trace shall kcepl"
6. And now the horn's loud blast was heard, ^ _
And now the cymbal's clang.
Till even the upper air was stirred, V o^^-'i
As cliff and hollow rang.
6. " Hark t they bring music, my joyous child 1 ,
What saith the trumpet to Suit's wild? WfAb.
Doth it light thine eye with so quick a fire,
As if at a glace of thine armed sire?
StiU 1 be thou still I there are brave men low, —
Thou wouldst not smile couldst thou see him now F
T.
RHETORICAL.
But nearer came the clash of steel,
Aud louder avvellcd the horn
And farther yet the tambour's peal
Through the dark pass was borne.
108
«A^at
8. Hearst thou the sound of their savage mirthf.
By thou wert free when I gave thee birth,^
Free and how cherished my warrior's son I
He. too, hath blessed thee, as I have done I
Aye, and unchain'd must his loved ones be-
Freedora, young Suliote, for thee and me I"
•. And from the arrowy peak she sprung,
And fast the fair child bore-
A vail upon the wind was flung, .,,i
A cry, and all was o'er I i „
*"* • Mrs. HucAn
t
— '^%t
27. THE END OP THE LONQ PABLUmbnT
the wckiDgs of Cr„mw!l w ^ ,. u"""'^' "'"""'=^ "o™
, the. tron. the IjeZuUe Lh^^' \'^ "" "" " "^™«»' JL
^•.•^e lobby, he e/tered tit pat^Z; n ""' ^ """^'■^ '" ^
-W himself „o „„e of .h!t e7C:r'ZV""''"°"''^
plain suit of blsok doth wi.k """^^s- His dress was a
« while he seemed to ll.!™^''""'"' "°«'"'"S»- For <Jm^
When the speZ t "s go ° ^llt' "' *". *» ''-^''^'^ > •>"'
.0 Harrison, "This is tlZeXtlZuZ''^'' ""'^'^
effhis hat to address the house ' ''■ """<?' P"'
«.ad.tn;™: tir zr::,rnr •'•"' r ""■^'"-^•
«»u«d an thevehemlTe TZX^Z'^f , ^' '^" "»
«a. vitup^ration. He charged the ^e^hll ^ Sje^-
104
THE SIXTH RBADEB.
and profaneness, with the frequent denial of justice, and numer-
ous act8 of oppression j with idolizing the lawyers, the constant
advocates of tyranny ; with neglecting the men who had bled
for them in the field, that they might gain the Presbyterians,
who had apostatized from the cause ; and with doing all this in
order to perpetuate their own power, and to replenish their
jwn purses. But their time was come j the Lord had dia.
>wned them; He had chosen more worthy instruments to
perform His work.
3. Here the orator was interrupted by Sir Peter Wentworth,
who declared that he had never heard language so unparlia-
mentary,— language, too, the more oflfensive, because it was
addressed to them by their own sei-vant, whom they had made
wha,t he was. At these words, Cromwell put on bis hat, and,
springing from His place, exclaimed, " Come, come, sir, I will
put an end to your prating !" For a few seconds, apparently
in the most violent agitation, he paced forward and back-
ward, and then stamping on the floor, added, ''You are no
Parliament 1 I say you are no Parliament 1 Bring them in,
bring them in 1" Instantly the door opened, and Colonel
Worsley entered, followed by more than twenty musketeers.
4. " This," cried Sir Henry Vane, " is not honest ; it is
against morality and common honesty." — " Sir Henry Vane,"
replied Cromwell; "0, Sir Henry Vane! The Lord deliver
me from Sir Henry Vane 1 He might have prevented this.
But he is a juggler, and has not common honesty himself I"
From Vane he directed his discourse to Whitelock, on whom
he poured a torrent of abuse; then pointing to Chaloner,
•* There," he cried, "sits a drunkard ;» and afterwards selecting
liflfereut members in succession, he described them as dishonest
and corrupt livers, a shame and scandal to the profession
of the Gospel. Suddenly, however, checking himself, he turned
to the guard, and ordered them to clear the house. At these
words. Colonel Harrison took the Speaker by the hand, and
led him from the chair ; Algernon Sydney was next comnellf^d to
quit his seat; and the other members, eighty in number, on
BHETOKIOAL.
106
Ae w..„a„h of the .nimury. rose and „„.ed towardB th,
6 Comwoll now resumed his discourse. "Itisyoo'-he
Lord ':: h *;' t 't' ™ " "" *- ^ >— -^^ *
Lord both day and n.ght, that Ho would rather slav m!
han put me on the d„i„g „f this work." Alderman AlTtol
advantage of these words to observe that it was not ™t1™
Charged h,m w,th peeulat.on, and gave him into custody
Wh n al were gone, fixing his eye on the mace, " What "IS ^ ^t
a»ay. Then tak.ng the act of dissolution from the clerk hn
ordered the doors to be locked, and, accompanied *; tte rLi^
tary, returned to Whitehall. '^
6 That afternoon the members of the Council assembled in
t e,r usual place of meeting. Bradshaw had just taken the
cha,r, when the Lord-General entered, and toW then, hat «
they were there as private individuals, they were welcome
but .f as tl,e Council of State, they musj know thit tre pX'
ment was dissolved, and with it also the Council. " Sir •' 1
phcd Bradshaw, wiU, the spirit of an ancient Roman, "we'havt
heard what you did at the House this morning, Ind befo™
n.any hours all England will know it. But, sir,",™ are m""
aken to th.nk that the Parlia,nant is dissolved. No power
under heaven can dissolve them but themselves; therefZ
take you notice of that." ' ""■"'">'"■
1. After this protest they withdrew. Thus, by the nar
nc, al hands of its own children, perished the Lo^,g ParZ
~«t, which, under a variety of forms, had, for mme t *
we ve years defended and invaded the liberties ef the .an
I. fell wnhout a struggle or a groan, unpitied and unregretted
The members slunk away ,o their homes, where thel^s'lh.'
hysum,ss,on to purchase the forbearance of their ,few 2
, and the.r part,sans-if partisans they had-reserved
I. .nselves ,n s.lenoe )„r a day ,.f retribution which .■„
before Cromwell slept in his «rave
,°. ■ LiNGAKD,
6»
106
THE SIXTH READER.
28. AMERICAN LITERATURE.
WE cannot honor our country with too deep a reverence ;
we cannot love her with an aifection too pure and fer-
vent ; we cannot serve her with an energy of pui-pose or a
faithfulness of zeal too steadfast and ardent. And what is
our country ? It is not the East, with her hills and her valleys,
with her countless sails, and the rocky ramparts of her shores.
It is not the North, with her thousand villages, and her harvest-
home, with her frontiers of the lake and the ocean. It is not
the West, with her forest-sea and her inland isles, with her
luxuriant expanses, clothed in the verdant corn, with her beau-
tiful Ohio and her majestic Missouri. Nor is it yet the South,
opulent in the mimic snow of the cotton, in the rich plantations
^■^ of the rustling cane, and in the golden robes of the rice-field.
What are these but the sister fainilies of one greater, better,
holier family — our country ?
2, If, indeed, we desire to behold a literature like that which
has sculptured, with such energy of expression, which has
painted so faithfully and vividly the crimes, the vices, the
follies of ancient and modern Europe ; if we desire that our
land should furnish for the orator and the novelist, for the
painter and the poet, age after age, the wild and romantic
scenery of war ; the glittering march of armies, and the revelry
of the camp ; the shrieks and blasphemies, and all the horrors
of the battle-field ; the desolation of the harvest, and the
burning cottage ; the storm, the sack, and the ruin of cities ;
if we desire to unchain the furious passions of jealousy and
aelfishness, of hatred, revenge, and ambition, those lions that
now sleep harmless in their den ; if we desire that the lake,
the river, the ocern, should blush with the blood of brothers j
that the winds should waft from the land to the sea, from the
sea to the land, the roar and the smoke of b. ttle ; that the
very mountain-tops should become altars for the sacrifice of
brothers ;— if we desire that these, and such as these— the ele-
SiiekLs, tu au increUiblu extent, of the litcratuire of the Old
RHETORIC,
lOT
Union a„,^,,,,Pjf;-'^ -
and bless ma„M„d aLrat ' r"'"" '' =''"" '<"■" «""
- a„,e,. fac; tCs 'r^rt^MT";::'-*''''''"^"^"-'
ch«ek;" then let u«rfin,r.„r. ''"° "" ""e''^''
patriots Wo w,"h a :L^1° ir °' *"'^ ''"'°^' "■'" »
hope. "^ enthusiasm, with a Christlan'a
wood" trt,xt„tr;s.^rtr''"" -'^--"'-^
educated, peaceful rhr,'. . ^ ornament of a free,
andthat^r^SraC^rht'^;:-^^^^^^^^^
muou her garden of paradise. ' ^"^ ^^^^
Gbiicul
29. LEGEND OP ST. JODOCUS.
TN trial of his servant's truth
One day came begging, as a youth
Of humble mien, in garments poor,
The Lord, to St. Jodocus' door.
2. ^'' Give to him," St. Jodocus said ;
Open good steward, thy store of bread-
Heres but one loaf; my master, see,
Left for our dog, and thee, and me."
«. ^^Yet give to him," the abbot cried,
For us the Lord will still provide."
jfvi The sullen butler said no more
But cut the loaf in pieces four!
4. " One for th
One for
"6 auooi, one lor me,
our dog, aud one for thee "
108
THE SIXTH READER.
Unkindly to the youth he said,
And handed him his share of bread.
6. Again, in semblance yet more pior,
The Lord came to our abbot's door ;
" Give, still," the good Jodocus said,
" Give him my little share of bread ;
For us the good God still will care."
And now he gives the abbot's share. '
6. A hungered came the Lord again.
Nor asked he the third time in vain ;
" Give now, steward, thy little bit —
God will provide."— He yielded it.
t. More destitute and blind and lame,
The Lord yet for the fourth time came;
" Give," said Jodocus, " give again ;
Doth not the doi^'s piece still remain ?
For He who doth the ravens feed
Will not forget us in our need."
8. The steward gives, the beggar goes ;
Then through the air a clear voice rosex
"Thou true disciple of thy Lord,
Great is thy faith,— take thy reward;
As thou believedst it should be,
So shall it happen unto thee."
•• The steward went to the open door
Lo I onward towards the nearest shore
Four heavy-laden ships are boriie,
With bread and fruit and wine and com.
Bu
On
11. "F(
By
He
Wh(
12. "On,
Anol
One
One
10. He to the strand runs joyfully,
And there no sailor can he seej
•fi.\fit'
[There are few pa^
pathos than this exqui
should be read in the ,
MAY Heaven ^
i-'X over the ear
2. I have passe
ants have seen m
known each other
at the close of day,
the bosom of a va
evening to his fir(
loves 1" The exile
3. Whence come
drives me along lik(
is everywhere alone
beautiful J but they;
to me they gay no
This stream flows g(
"ot that which my
Diembrances. The e
KHETOBIOAL.
But to the 8h„..„ a white wave rolled
On wb,oh these weds we,.e traced t^'gold:
II. "Feur ships are sent with large supply
By H™ who hears the raveu's cry • '
He sends them to the abbot good '
WH th,a da,, four ti. es ,a™ Hi. food.
"■ ''°°'' *■■"• «"= ffODd man's self is sent-
A»ote,f„ti3,„^.^___^J««ent,
One for the steward is coming in .
One ffir +1,^ c!__ J . o ^" ,
loy
One for the Sender's needy kin."
■vtA-v j^e^
TiUNSLATBD PBOM THE GerjuiT.
80. THE POOR EXILE
Bhoald be read in the original.] ^''°'^' ^o appreciate it fully, it
MAY Heaven guide the poor exile I TTp
^'■A over the earth. ^® ^°®8 wandering
2. I have passed through varinn, ...
ants have seen me and I L ""*"'" ' *^«>'^ ''°habit
^nown each other. ' The e.i e"i "" *'?' '"^ ^^« ^^^ -t
. at the close of day, I saw th s J ^1"'"^ ^'^^^ ' ^h-.
the bosom of a valley, I said 7"^ f ''''^^' ''''' fr"'"
-ening to his firesid, and seals 'hf "ir' "'° ^^^^^^ ^*
^-P The exile is ev;rywlrln:r^ a.on, those ha
««'erywherealonel These t! "™ '" ^he exile
l>«tif«l , but they are ^ot he Z "" ' *"'' '^'"'"^ "^
^ »e they say n'o thi„; The IT" '"" °' "^ """"''^ '
Ti.8 stream flows gently over the ^," '""'^''^'"•> alone
»»t .hat whi„h n,/ohi,dho"d learT r- '"' "^ °"'™« «
-"brances. The e.i,e is every^ere aLT, " """^ "'' '^
110
THE SIXTH READER.
4. Tliene gong* are sweet ; but the sorrows and the joys
which thay awako are not ray sorrows nor my joys. The exile
is every whero alone I I have been asked, Why weepestthou?
but whew I have told my tale, no one wept : for no one under-
Btood ma. The exile is everywhere alone 1 I have seen old men
surrouudwd by children, as the olive by its branches ; but none
of iuo»0 old men called me his son ; none of those children
called mo hln brother. The exile is everywhere alone I
6. I httve men young girls smile, with a smile as pure as
the dawn, on him they had chosen for a husband ; but not one
smiled on mo. The exile is everywhere alone I I have seen
young men hoart to heart embrace each other as if they held
in common Imt one existence ; but not one pressed my hand.
The exjio in everywhere alone I There are friends, wives,
fathers, brothers, only in one's own country. The exile is
every whore alono I
6. Poor exile 1 cease to lament. Every one is banished like
thyself J ©Tory one beholds father, mother, wife, friend, pass
away and vanish. Our country is not here below ; man seeks
for it horo in vain ; that which he mistakes for it is only a
resting-place for a night. ^
1 Heaven gaido the poor exile. He goes wandering over
81. A CHRISTMAS HYMN.
TT Wtt» the calm and silent night! —
■*• Seven hundred years and fifty-three
Ha4 Kome been growing up to might.
And now was queen of land and sea I
No sound was heard of clashing wars,
Feaee brooded o'er the hushed domain ; tov^
Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars
Hold undisturbed their ancient reign,
In the solemn midnight,
Centuries ago I
^»u
■aA
BHITOIIIOAL.
Ill
«• Tw.8 ,„ the cal™ „,d ,a,„, „,. ^
hit T"'" "' ''""S'"^ Borne .^.MU^
In.pafo„t urged Ws chariot's flight '
Fmm lordly revel rolling ,,„„f ' . ■
''"-Phal arches, g,oa„,i/g, IZ ,2^
• A paltr, pro^ee far away! !w,r '^••"
An the solemn midnight,
Centuries ago?
»• Within that province far away
Went plodding ho,„e a weary boor . ■.
A streak „f ,ig,,t before him lay ' '"^"^
Acr "hir;:f H^tt-e^r ^T
Jold What was goinHrtittr'-' ^^•'
The .'''™''"'^°°'y*tonght.
The a,r hew cal., .nd eold, and^thi'o.
Jn the solemn midnight,
Centuries ago I
4. strange indiiTerence I_I„w «„d high
The r^Var^rrrr "''--' ^--
Th. T, ' ' ^'"^^ "Ot Why;
Hoi J ""' '■•»'^"«K->mawaresV .
How calm a „,omenl may precede
To thtt s«l, " '""■" ""' ""'=• ^--"
10 ttat still moment none would heed «w '
.W. Man's doom was linked, no moret'seve; "
In the solemn midnight, '
Centuries agol
«• It is the calm and solemn night I
A thousand bells rirur r„f j ,
Thp-,,. i ^ ^^^' ^"d throw
llmr .joyous npals phms-l 4 •
Tho"^; 1 " 'ioioad, and smite ts^^
The darkness, charmed and holy now I ^^
t-- ^ vA/tr .
113 THE SIXTH READER.
The night that erst no shame had worn,
To it a happy name is given ;
For in that stajule lay, new-born,
The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven,
In the solemn midnight,
Centuries ago I Dommbt.
()i(»vAv'^
82. BAEON GERAMB.
rpHOSE whose memory does not carry back beyond the days
-■- of Waterloo may have found, in Moore's politico-satirical
poems, mention of a person enjoying a celebrity similar to that
possessed more lately by a French count resident in London, aa
a leader of fashion, remarkable at the same time for wit and ac-
complishments. Such was the Baron Geramb, in the days
when George the Third was king. But some may possibly re-
member a higher renown gained by him beyond that of having
his last bon-'mot quoted in the morning papers.
2. Being an alien, though neither a conspirator nor an as-
sassin, he was ordered to leave the country, and refused. Ho
barricaded his house, and placarded it with the words, "Every
Englishman's house is his castle," in huge letters. He bravely
stood a siege of some duration against the police of those days,
and crowds around the house ; till at length, whether starved
out by a stern blockade, or overreached by Bow Street strategy,
he either yielded at discretion, or was captured through want
of it, and was forthwith transferred to a foreign shore.
3. So ends the first chapter of the public life of the gallant
nd elegant Baron Geramb, the charm of good society, to
which by every title he belonged. What became of him after
this? Did that society, on losing sight of him, ask any more?
Probably few of those who had been entertained by Lis
cleverness, or amused by his freaks, ever gave him another
C thought ; and a commentator on Thomas Moore encountering
the "whiskers of Geramb" iu one of his V8r.«<!!i ^r-ia^i be at o,
m
RIlETOItlCAL.
118
loss to trace the histnrv ,,p +i •
once in tracinsf liim in a|-loi-lir„. ° "'"''''
i. Many yows later, i„ the ro!,r„ „r n
let tl,e reader 8„pp,«e himself K "'""^ ""^ Sixteenth,
Pl».au »haJed b/L i,:"^ ^^^ ^'^ on .„e .™a«
which take, it. „a™e fr"n H a, \^^^ T" "" '"" '"'""^ ''"'<'
oaken screen, enjoying th! h T^ "" "P"'"'"* '" ">»
He may see L.uTZntl' f " """■""' »f'"-°--
fraternity, but clot ed:,rXror° ''"'""'' "" "' ^'» -
>«-y dimension, hestridi:';i':tu:tr^ T ™" "' ^^
ofman-bearinff animal, selected of hundred, hs/ '""'"'"'
't '» ^:/" J-' P-P0.t.-on to the bnrdt ■ "'" "'^"^ '»
t«nanee, and through the sintfici^l rf T ''"''' "^ "«»"'•
gracefulness of demeanor It. "^i '"' '"""■'' ""' ">«<>'/ »
-=, but even vS ".ett'ojt "' ''?,"'^-'^^^ ^-"«-
iearted, and soldierly oourt^^Ctrfrt, ™"'' '''"* ^
I'-g gleam of wit suppressed T ! , "' ''^'' " «P»* """^
coruscations. Once, wh „ „1 f i'^^'P''"^" '"'° ■>'"™fe«> S-
bronght as a gift t^ the Eugi^rCardi 1 ^'''"°' "" "^
-ketch of himself and his "Gfl l, , n ^'"°° " ^hhed
the dust. ' '^''"'"" O'-V" ■■oiling together ia
6. When I called on him «. i.;
an imperial autograph letteMn'r """7"* '"' "'"""^'^ "=
tho/rallantry aniw'unds " h rsVrrh: ' "™°""°'°* *° >"■■•
-oral other royal epistle tSt^*"? '''"""' "'"
InniJ to friend. Yet h« i, n,„ u^ ^ Peasant tono of
o^lor known i„ the Chu, ^ li! '"* ^ " '"""'^ "' *^ ^'"'"^«'
""t.n?,reading,™odi.atin„.o°„h Ivt . ■ """P''"" '■»
«l'fying i„ conversation. Amo, 5L ° ' ,!""' ''" P™^""-'
Howin.? with pietv i, ,„,. ■; '? """"^ "'"'■l^'' of Ws over-
Tomb." "^ ■ ' " ""' P'--'^"l""iy tender, "My Saviour",
lU
THfi SIXTH BEADER.
1. The good old monk had been to JeruHalem, and had
manifested his affections by a novel and exqnisito prodigality
borrowed in idea from a Certain woman who had been a sinner
in the city. He anointed the sepulchre of our Lord with the
most costly of perfumes, the attargul, or otto of roses, as we
call it, so that the whole house was filled with its fragrance.
Such is the P6ro Geramb; such the second chapter of his kno'vii
life. What had been the intermediate hidden stage?
8. When expelled, happily for him, from England, he very
Boon fell into the enemy's hands, I know not how/ But ho
happened to be cast into the same prison, I think Vincennea,
wliere the good Cardinal de Gregorio was also in bonds, lie was
first struck by the patiunce and virtues of his fellow-captive,
and gradually entered into conversation with him. The result
was a change of heart and a change of life. Liberty soon put
the sincerity of both to the severest test. Baron Geramb re-
mained attached to the land of his captivity : in it he joined
the fervent and austere life of La Trappe. After some years
he was sent to Rome as resident procurator of the order, whore
I had the pleasure of knowing him. Several amusing aneo
dotes mingle with his memory, to show how even in his sack-
cloth and ashes lived his wonted fire. c^„,^ai. Wisbma^.
83. THE ANGELS OP BUENA VISTA.
I.
QPEAK and tell us, our Xiraena, looking northward far away,
>^ O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array.
Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or come'thej
near?
Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we
hear.
n.
"Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of battle rolls;
Blood is flowing, men are dying ; God have mercy on theii
tiuuls P
RHETORICAL.
116
Who is losing? who is winnin.r?_«'OvP.. Jn'l] 4
I see but smoke of cannoa cbudin. t Z '1 \"l "" ''"""'
rain." ^ inioug-li tho mouutaiu
nr.
icot^forth o„oe .ore, Xi.e Ji ..^^ 1 the ™„k„ h.s roUed
'"Vrar "" ''°'*'™ ^'''!' «'-"""^ ^o- «.o rani, of
Hark I that sudden blast of hth^ f t>, .u
wheels ; ^''' ' *^«^« the troop of Minon
There the Northern horses thunder wifh .k
heels. i-oJi:*^ ^nuuder, with the cannon at their
lanoe I * -'"'°'"' »'"™-» P»ebla', charging /,„„»«.
Down.he,g„..hetrave,o„„gHder3, hor. a„d f«,t together
'^'^Notfr,":;;. ■■" '"^ "'"°-' "--«" "•- p.ough» tho
won? "^ ^ **" "'• *'"' t" lost and who ha.
"Alas I alas I I know not. <■„• j ,
•^er the d,ing rush t..e ^-^'p "'^"^'"f '^" f»» .•
lie
v'jII sixth read IB.
VII.
**lj9fi the vvind tho smuke .. liftiug: BleHsed Mother, save my
*>^»'nl .. 3 :,;,.. t >. V,
I can s»;e tl»<> j^oundcd crawling slowly i, '" from heaps of sliain:
\J(vf • ^' Now they stat^'gor, blind and bleeding ; now they fall, and
strive to rise ;
Hasten, sisters, hasto and save them, lest they die before our
eyes I
VIII.
" Oh, my heart's love I oh, my dear one ! lay thy poor head on
my knee ;
Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Canst thou hear me?
canst thou see me ?
Oh, my husband, brave and gentle ! Oh, my Bernal, look once
more
On the blessed cross before thee I Mercy I mercy I all is o'er !"
iz.
Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena ; lay thy dear one down to rest ;
Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross upon his breast ;
''*^^^^Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral Masses said ;
To-day, thou poor bereaved one, the living ask thy aid.
\*Ah
ai.vw'X.
Close beside her, faintly 'moaning, fair and young, a soldier lay,
Vtd-'o Torn W'''Ii shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow his life
away ; '
But, as tenderly before him, th e lorn Ximena knelt, <^^^^>tr —
She saw the Northern eagle shining on Iila pistol-belt.
tWJj,» «.^^
With a stifled cry of horror straight she turned away her head
With a saJ .nd bitter feeling looked she back upon her dead ;
But she i;eL. ' ^Us youth's low moaning, and his struggling
breath o' j, "i..
And she rai/i-jr; il ; cooling wate» to his parching lips again.
\i'iii8perod low tli(
smiled :
Was that pitying f
child ?
All his stranger
supplied ;
With her kiss upo
and died I
"A bitter curse upor
Prom some gentle £
North I"
Spake tlie mournful
dead,
And turned to soothe
bled. »4vJUi.>u
Look forth once mor,
wind
Rolls the battle down
behind ;
Ah! they plead in vai]
strive •
Hide your faces, holy ai
S'Dk, oh night, among
shadows fall ;
Jying brothers, fighting
Ifirough the thickening
rolled ; ^
^ its sheath the sabre re
RnETORiOAL.
117
XII.
:*
'''id'u'rr''^'' '■'•" '"*H "M„.h.,» ,.„™„,„, ,„.
XIII. ''
North 1" ^ '"""'^'^' ^^^'P'Hff lonely in the
Spake the iiKJurnfuI Moyin .
dead, ^'^"^ ^^'"^" ^ «ho laid hi,n with her
And turned to Hootho ihn. i; •
bled. ^pr: ""^ '""°S' ^O bind the wounda which
XIV.
Look forth once more. Ximenaf "Like a olo H k r
wind ^"^® * cloud before the
Rolls the battle down thp m..,, * • ,
behind ; '^" "'""^"•°' '^''^-'n? blood and death
Ah I they plead ia vain for mercv • fn . >, ^
strive; '''^^' '^ *ho dust the wounded
=* .0,. race,, h„„ .„,,3 , 0Mh„„ ChHat of God, f„.,i.e ,. ■' ■'*""*^
'°'hfd„":ff^,r""=' '"^ "°°'^-' 'et the oo„,, ,„,
rolled; -^ ^ """^ *^'''^'^<^ ^'^^e apart the battle
'■i--.the.h..e3.a,a„d.,oao,.o„.„,,.ewoo,.
Jl *.
[
I-' *.
«r'
! ^i
118
THE SIXTH EEADER.
XVI.
liBIl''
Li
n
iw+V
But the noble Mexic women still their holy task pursued,
Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn faint aud
lackin"" food :
Over weak and suffering brothers with a tender care they
hung.
And the dying foeman blessed them in a straage and Northern
tongue.
XVII.
Not wholly lost, oh Father i is this evil world of ours ;
Upward, through its blood and ashes, spring afresh the Eden
flowers ;
From its smoking hell of battle. Love and Pity send their
prayer, ,,
And still thy white-winged angels hover dimly in our air !
I'lLovv^ }^(«\\. Whittieb.
I i
84. THE POSSESSION OP JUBA.
[This chapter from Callista has been considered by able critics not to 1)«
surpassed in ite way by any thing in the English language. Among the
writers of pure kingly EngUsh, Dr. Newman stands unrivalled. We prefei
giving the entire description in three lessons, rather than to take extracts
which would destroy the effect of the piece.]
"TJI/'EIL, my precious boy," said the old woman, "the
* * choicest gifts of great Cham be your portion 1 You
had excellent sport j'esterday, I'll warrant. The rats squeaked,'
eh ? and you beat the life out of them. That scoundrel sao
ristan, I suppose, has taken np his quarters below." "Yo
may say it," answered Juba. " The reptile I he turned righ
about, and would have made himself an honest fellow, when
it couldn't be helped." " Good, good 1" returned Gurta, as ii
she had got something very pleasant in her mouth : "Ah! that
ia good I but he did tK)t escape on that score, I do trust."
2. "They pulled him to pieces, all the mure cheerfully," said
Juba. " rulieii him to pieces, limb by limb, joint by joint, eUr
answered Gurt
to hia eyes, oi
Juba. Slowly,
to he quick abc
that's luxury I
3. " Caeso's s
np for his vlewf
but he has gon
Ihey call blisg a]
domain, you kn
worried him a g(
in my line, niothi
morning and eve
you merry; but
4. "Ha, ha, ,
time, though yoi
Well, and have y
Is any one getting
blows the wind ?
cius, I suspect, ^
perately frightene
your friends hard
word. They'll hav
in order to kill thei
added, thoughtfully
surpassed by the r
isn't it, mother ?"
5. " Yes, yes," si
tiiom, many or fe^
come." "I don't se
Juba; "not at all, (
Callista turns, why f
company, and keep ^
6- " No, no, my b(
•ny master. You ar,
f^aokle to in good tU
RHETORICAL.
119
<am_
answered Gurta. "Blrl h,«„ i- ,.
to be quick about it. Taste h,„, I, j, ! ' '''"' » S''""™
but he has gone up -un ■» .,r.A u , ^°''^ ^'"^te him I
domam, you know. B„ he did 1, J- ^' °"' "f *'"'■•
worried him a good deal ■' a„„„ Tr t ""'^ '" '"'^'"^ i">y'
i" -y line, moL, a„ this Ul ^ '"'' i •" ""' "'« »* '^"'^ '"^''
-rm„g a„d evening, and 'thrive „ fZuT " "'"' °' "'""O
y«» n-y , hnt it. too n,uoi, for „„ liZlT"' " "'"^- ^---
tin>o, though you .ake ZLlZ'' 'i^"^"'' '"'""^ '^h.^
Well, and have you brouH. rn!?' *''"* ^°"'^« joung.^'"*^-
I-ny one getting a rZet Ze ^V"' '"" *^^ -P'W
blows the wfnd ? Are the . ^ ' °' " ^^^"^^^ ? How
^'"«; f «-Pect, wrn:l::^.V^!^--P/ Th.Pe.
Perately frfghtened," said Juba "tf .. T ^" '''"" ^'"
your friends hard enough fea I '^^ ^^^^^^^ "ot smite
won!. They'll have to make aw f.. """^ ^^'""^^ '« «'«
in order to kill them : a^d I aL T ^. , '"' ^°'' '^' «««^«ion.
added, thoughtfully. "They av^f '^'^^ ^^^^^ ^'V ^e
surpassed by the rabble 'risJ v '.^ ''^'^* '^'^ ^'^ "«*
isn't it, mother?" ' Pity Christians are so few,
5. " Yes, yes," she said • " hnf ^ f*"***'-
<»"•«•" "Idon'tseetheval,. 'T """" Oallista'^ ,„
„J"ta; "»otatalI,e.cepTttatrr "" °"" P-P' V said
«»il»ta turna, why shonM tTlZlTZT'^'''-^'- «
«pan.v, and keep your hand in ?" ' """""•' '° ''«'? 1"='
«.-t:"rfa::e:r-i^^''^^^^^^
120
THE SIXTH REAPER.
/Vo,
f^fJfls
with my merry men. Come here, child," said the fond mother
" and let me kiss you."
1. " Keep your kisses for yaur monkeys, and goats, and
cats," answered Juba : "they're not to my taste, old dame.
Maater I my .master ! I won't have a master I I'll be no-
body's servant, ril never stand to be hired, nor cringe to ii
)*uj^A,, bully, nor quake before a rod. Please yourself, Gurta ; I'm a
free man. You're my mother by courtesy only."
8. Gurta looked at him savagely. *' Why, you're not goinw
to be pious and virtuous, Juba ? A choice saint you'll make !
You shall be drawn for a picture." "Why shouldn't I, if J
choose ?" said Juba. "If I must take service, willy, nilly, I'd
any day prefer the others to that of your friend. I've not left
. the master to take the man." *' Blr.spheme not the great gods,"
she answered, " or they'll do you a mischief yet." " I say
again," insisted Juba, "if I must lick the earth, it shall not
»\a.» be where your friend has trod. It shall be in my brother's
fashion, rather than in yours, Gurta."
9. " Agellius 1" she shrieked out with such disgust, that it
is wonderful she uttered the name at all. " Ah I you have not
[rvw told me about him, boy. Well, is he safe in the pit, or in the
stomach of an hyena ?" " He's alive," said Juba ; " but ho
ha^ not got it in him to be a Christian. Yes, he's safe with his
uncle."
10. "Ah! Jucundus must ruin him, debauch liim, and then
we must make away with him. We must not be in a hurry,"
said Gurta, " it must be body and soul." " No one shall touch
(J him, craven as he is," answered Juba. " I despise him, bu^
let him alone." " Don't come across me," said Gurta, sullenly
" I'll have my way. Why, you know I could smite you to the
dust, as well as him, if I chose."
11. " But you have not asked me about Callista," answered
Juba. " It is really a capital joke, but she has got into prison
for certain, for being a Christian. Fancy it I they caught her
in the streets, and put her in the guard-house, and have had
her up for examination. You see they want a Christian fof
the noBce ; it
tiifiy will flourf
12. "Thefui
my boy : I tolc
answered Juba
make a match c
of other things
likely, more like
in the pit, as I ti
old woman," sail
13. Gurta lool
fixplanation. He
"She wheed]
• >e
his
Not the litt
"She foamed
She laid we]
The priest g
• 14. Gurta was a
has not escaped, be
said Juba, undaunt
the witche's face ; ]
am my own master,
sumption of superii
«o. I'll have my ov,
a blood-thirsty old 1
Did not J catch you
«? Youhadnai
free, and were cuiti
quivered and shriek
"«'"ng his liver for so
'"ybne; but you gl
'^a'Jed in mimicry, i
15. Gurta was still
'^^nl from the intensi
RHETOIIICAL.
131
the noBce ; it would not do in h.
they will flourish with her till 1 ,"?' '"^^ ^" P^-'^on ; so
^2- ''Thefuneshavoh r "e^'drf^'""*'^-^^^^^^^
-y^oy: I told ^ou so, lo / " f "^ ' Z' ^'^ ^' ^ '^-*>'-'
answered Juba ; " ha I ha I She and T f ' ^'^"««an P
make a match of it of somp 7 ^g^ellmg are going- tc
of other things tha;tri /^^^ They're fhink'ing
, l>k^y, n,ore litely,'^ slid Gurta 4o' '"' *'^ ^'^ P^-^^, mora
'D the pit, as I trust." " Yop,- ^ . ? '"^ P''^°° ^'"th her -~
oW woman," said Juba. ^ "^'^'^^ ^^« '^heated ^^ou fbr on^e, Ul^ ']
13. Gurta looked at him fiorcelv an^ -^ '^
explanation. He began singing 7' ^ ''''''^ ^^^*^'"ff for hi.
"She Wheedled and coaxed, but he was no f ,
■"•^ • tj hia own mastPT- i,o»^ "° ^°°^ .'
"d Juba, „„da„„tedly. a lade . Tt "^ S"' '"■"« off,»
"""•Pton of euporiority. vTZL K °"'" '"'"^ 7"" ^s-
»■ ra ha™ n,y „w„ way y""'," '""^^ '"»'■?'. you call „,
. lood-thirsty old hag , \e3 5j "'" *'^''*°°«- You're .
'"'Wf Yon had nailed him nn 1,„ i Pf»'">mg on that little ■'
"'e, and were cutting him to 1 ' '"^ '"'' "»«"»' the
';™«d and .hn-ekef tC ^i^'^'y^' ^°" '---, as heP
122
THE SIXTH READER.
Tf^U,
^^h
r^ty
Y'
low, piercing whistle. " Yes I" cniitiiuied Juba, " you revelled
in it. You chattered to the pr)or babe, when it screamed, as a
uurse to an infant. -You called it pretty names, and squeaked
out your satisfaction each time you stuck it. You old hag 1
I'm not of your breed, though they say I am of your blood.
/ don't fear you," he said, observing the expression of her
countenance ; " I don't fear the immortal devil 1" and he con
tinued his song :
^tyw- " She beckoned the moon, and the moon came down ;
The green earth shrivelled beneath her frown; A^'t.v>"
Bat a man's strong will can keep his own."
16. While he was talking and singing, her call had been
answered from the hut. An animal of some wonderful species
had crept out of it, and proceeded to creep and crawl, moein^
and twisting as it went, along the trees and shrubs which
rounded the grass-plot. When it came up to the old woman,
it crouched at her feet, and then rose up upon its hind legs and
begged. She took hold of the uncouth beast and began to'''>
fondle it in her arms, muttering something in its ear. At ,
length, when Juba stopped for a moment in his song, she sud-
denly flung it right at him, with great force, saying, " Take
that I" She then gave utterance to a low, inward laugh, and
leaned herself back against the trunk of a tree under which
she was sitting, with her knees drawn up almost to her chin.
Nbwhak.
85.
THE POSSESSION OF JUBA— (Continued).
npHE blow seemed to act on Juba as a shock on his nervous
-*■ system, both from its violence and its strangeness. He
stood still for a moment, and then, without saying a word, he
turned away, and walked slowly down the hill, as if in a maza
Then he sat down
8. In an instant up he started again with a great cry,
began r
voice sp
whateve
underwo
ficarinsr •
last, exhf
loudly an
cannot eg
fell down
3. Whe
something
tasted it
encampme;
still shallc
as \i he 01
rolled abou
he came oui
shoulders, a
The shock .
'lim, and the
on for a whi]
4. Sudden
of his oi-gan
embodying c
he might inde
in bravado, b
'"ng, and a t
stranger. He
he now belies
J)im. He felt
of good and (
'he evil ; but ]
fhe other ; and
^^^ prey of sort
over him.
5' The day h{
RHETORICAL,
began rnnnn->^ at tho inr. r. • ^'^
™^oe s,,™,,-,,; ,•„ ,,„ t: -P-;. Ho th„„,M „o .,., ,
rt^tever ,t was, Xept up wi,h '^ w I""' "" ""■•"'■ "'
underwood, trampling and or,,, ""''"■''' *'''"«1> the , "
««»n-„8: the birds and sm: ! ' ',' """" >"' ^-^i and f "-
l««t, ozha„3ted, he stood^M ,f "" '""'"' '""e^i there A. ,,(,
'»"-ly and deep,,, as ^^ ^l^!'::^- l'"- ''-' -rd it .ty ''^"^
~not escape from yonrselfj. "^0' 'l" °"" "'•^''"^' "Y™
fell down and fainted awav (.;, '^''"■' '"''»d W™ i he
!<• When his senses rutnrnBd 1 ■ j,
•"-thing in hin, „<,t himself Vftif"' ^P'^^-™ was of .'
oncampment had by this time """ ''^ «"rta's
»'i« shallow. Hep^nnged nt!i^™T ," ''"™''"' th""?!-
■« ■■fl.e ought to drown him el 'h^''"«^ '^'""'' "P»" hto
'OIW about in it, in spite ™ L ! '] '*''" "^^P"' He
ke came out of it. his tunie st ^k^!-! ", "f^ "'■"'• '^''en
«honIders, and let it hang rourd U 5 n "' '" '"'■"' " "* bis
The shock of the water, ho'ev r J^d '"'""*• -''t -..-irht. '-"^
:ra-r:-ir'-'^---
-bodying conceptions whlrhL ,' "^P*'™'-; words
1« »..ghti„deedj,ave borne with nf,-'^ ""'"'' ■"*° ''» "md, "
!» b-vado, but Which now iZ'ZZT"'' ""'■ "' """^^^
'« and a terror to which he Cd , t"'^"™^'"'^ '™* «^--v,
t'-anger. He had always in ,Z h\ ^ ^'^ '"'«'' 'l"'te a
« "ow believed with a reali " . / "'"'"' '" " «<"i. but
'-• f f* it as if he aw Him h' r,TY "'*"'' "^ '»
f Sood and evil beings He d d ' , , ' """" '''"> ^ world
";"i but he shra,,f from'',, f „„":' 'T, ""= S™". - hate
""> °'ter ; and he felt hinsplf T ""'' ''" was terrified at \ \i
"- Key of some d.^ d :; :;t:i':„ """"■ ■■*^'°»' -'^ -•". '» ^^ i
•«. { - w r, vxiicu tyrauuized
"--.badc,osed-themoonhadrise.Hep,un,edi„t.
124
THE SIXTH BEADER.
kli4««
C-K,.
Xo^
yfJvJ^t^^
w*
''V
t
the thlfik(fNt wood, and the trees seemed to him to make way
for him. Still thoy seemed to moan and to creak as thej
iwovc'd out of their place. Soon he began to see that they
were lookinjff at him, and exnlting over his misery. They, of
an inferior imttiro, had had no gift to abuse and lose ; and they
remained in tliat honor and perfection in which they were
created, Bifd« of the night flew out of them, reptiles slunk
ftway ; yet «oon he began to be surrounded, wherever he went,
by a cirel© of owls, bats, ravens, cruws, snakes, wild-cats, and
apeg, which were always looking at him, but somehow made
way, retreating before him, and yet forming again, and in
order, m he marched along.
6, Ho had passed through the wing of the forest which he
rntered, and penetrated into the more mountainous country.
He a»cended the heights ; he was a taller, stronger man than
lie l»ad been \ he went forward with a preternatural vigor, and
<louri8ijed \m arms with the excitement of some vinous or
{gaseous intcjxicaiion. He heard the roar of the wild beasts
(tchoed along the woody ravines which were cut into the
(ioiid moiintaiK rock, with a reckless feeling as if he could cope
with them. t^i'^, ^~'~~~
t. An he pa»«cd the dens of' the lion, leopard, hyena,
jackal, wild-boar, and wolf, there he saw them sitting at the
entrance, or stepping suddenly as they prowled along, and
eyeing him, but not daring to approach. He strode aloii^"
from rock to rock, and over precipices, with the certainty and
ease of koojc giant in Eastern fable. Suddenly a beast of prey
came mtm% him ; in a moment he had torn up by the roots
the «turop of a wild vine-plant, which was near him, had
thrown bimucll' npon his foe before it could act on the aijfrres-
Bive, bad flung it upon its back, forced^ the weapon into its
mouth, and wa» stamping on its chest. He knocked the lif'o
out of the forioa» animal ; and crying " Take that 1" tore its
flesh, and, applying his mouth to the wound, sucked a draught
of its t/lood. Nbwmah.
86. TH
P has pass(
side. Bris
^'^'•^ ing torrents, ar
the brow of a h
jDst as the daw
which every stcj
various in the da
with their red bl
course into the di
on the right and
nature, if it were
except that they e
2. The wild oli\
mulberry, the peac
of spontaneous or
trees waved their
breeze. The statf
avenues, showed tl
villas. The green'
here and there flqci
hght and growing c
3. Elsewhere the
crowned with chest
and acacia, or wild
the carooba, the wl
while overhead a8C(
fi"(l an underwood ,
A pi-ofusiou of wild-fl
4- JuLa stooijj^and
^^"^Ting, repinTng, hai
J'le wild mountains
to; suited the tumult ,
t^ him to have retre;
retraced his steps j b
RHETORICAL.
125
H
«.. THE POSSESSION OF .UBA-(C„..„„„,,
■•^ has passed over fl.» « ^ •
the brow of a hill, withtdl n r"™"' ^° ""^ ^''"'''■'•■l f
1-t - tl,e dawn hogi a t„ Trea " r:"^' " "° '"' °f '•«. ^"^
which every sfcp l,e takes is bZ, • '" " '°™'^ P'^P"""-
various in the daylight M'iTT"f """■'-■ *«"'''^ ""J '"»™
with their red blLon« m" Id tt ""''"■ °' ^.eat beanty,
co-se into the distanee.' T^^J^ ST ""^'-^'^^'^ »"' i^
come into the distanee Thfll f 'JT ""' "'"'^''••■'J "»' i's
»" the ri,ht and ,er,lJ^:Z^ :^ t'!" "^- "i™- -d,^
»» the right and U^UTZ" "/r*° "■■" ""'"" "■". -"
-t«re, if it „ere no the h™d , ™.""'™'' '"""" -'"'^h
""iidltre':-"--^^^^^^ " "° ""^^'
"Ihorry, the pea:,: "pT:::' '"" f'""' "^ ''^'^- '"^
»f spontaneous orehard. Tel, tl ""'"""■ '"'""^^ » «"'
trees waved their long and "raeW 1 '"'"7 ^"""'' °' P""- ^-tf
Tee.e. The stately Li Xf , ' "'""""' i" the morning ^
•venues, showed the way toTubl t"',"'™''""'''^ '"'» 'o"!'"^
villas. The S.een'tefCV^wa" ^ ""l'^" °' '"-*-
here and there flocks and hefd 11 '"'""^ ""' '"=°'="''' '"d
>.Sht and growing distinct I^Zel""''"*^ ™' "' ""^ ^«-'-
o. iiJsewhere the PTmir.ri
crowned With chestnut woods o'r Zi"\ ""'''" ^""'■'-■'^^
and acacia, or wildernesses of °L */''""*'°°= »f cedar
t earooba. the white p ^la TniT'l"' ""^ ""'"""^^■
wi..le overhead ascended the.! Pix^-'ician juniper
a«d an underwood of n,yrtt oll'W'"""'' "^ ""^ ^op,^
*p.of„sion„fwi!d-flowerCr„etdth ''™' ''"'' ""'^
*■ Jula stoo<Land gazed tflth ^"""'^ '''"• ^'^ ■"^»'-
-'Ti"e, repi„"iS\ hatir fie sa a T", ■"'' "PP"^'** '» ^i.,
!■'» Wild mountains or the ol^t „ h "'^ '■" "P™ ^^adi* •
•<": »ited the tumult of Ws mTnd T 'r' """'<' ''"" ^"^^
"• >'m to have retr»4cd f """" '""""'«» " reH,/
traced his steps; but he w7s Z,'r " '"""'' ""'' «» have
was not his own master, and »„
126
.THE SIXTH READER.
44^^'•
]M\jjM^t
KAwftM
hurried on. Sorely against his determined strong resolve ana
will, crying out and protesting and shuddering, the youth waa
forced along into the fulness of beauty and blessing with
which he was so little in tune.
5. With rage and terror he recognized that he had no part
in his own movements, but was a mere slave. In spite of him-
Belf ho must go forward, and behold a iieiyce and sweetness
which witnessed against him. He dashed down through the
thick grass, plunged into the water, and, without rest or respite,
began a second course of aimless toil and travail through the
day.
6. The savage dogs of the villages howled and fled from him
as he passed by ; beasts of burden, on their way to market,
which he overtook or met, stood still, foamed and trembled ;
the bright birds, the blue jay and golden oriole, hid thein-
Belves under the leaves and grass ; the storks, a religious and
domestic bird, stopped their sharp clattering note from the
high tree or farm-house turret, where they had placed their
nests ; the very reptiles skulked away from his shadow, as if
it were poisonous. The boors who were at their labor in the
fields suspended it to look at one whom the Furies were lash-
ing and whirling on. Hour passed after hour, the sun attained
its zenith, and then declined, but this dreadful compulsory race
continued.
1. 0, what would he have given for one five minutes of
oblivion, of slumber, of relief from the burning thirst which
now consumed him I But the master within him ruled his
muscles and his joints, and the intense pain of weariness had
no concomitant of prostration of strength. Suddenly he besjan
to laugh hideously ; and he went forward dancing and singing'
loud, and playing antics. He entered a hovel, made faces at
the children, till one of them fell into convulsions, and he ran
away with another ; and, when some country people pursued
him, he flung the child in their faces, saying, "Take that!"
and said he was Pentheus, King of Thebes, of whom he had
never hoard, about to solemnize the orgies of Bacchus, and he
began to spout
learnt or heard a
I , r. ^* ^^^ ^* ^^ Gi
f* ■"" 'grove, where the
Tlie hideous bru
and goat's foet, m
Jamb, decked witl
K frisking before hii
by the sight of a
to dance too. He
that they ceased t
as a diversion.
9. Suddenly he 1
ing with himself, a
and the struggle e
and crawling like
got near^his attitud
Bhuddering, he laid
to the idol as a w
mingled blood and
then again, as if J
dignity, he jumped i
broke him to pieces,
fore the lookers-on r
87. M
[Denis Florence M'Cartt
afout 1830, ranks among t
Ireland. Besides "Ballad
"ttnit u-e, with some of th
t'al,].r„„. Ileis,^.e,,eii,,
tatholic University of Iroh
AH I my ]
Wait
Waiting for
«HETOBIOAL.
m
began to spout a chorus of Greek . t
learnt or heard spoken ' ^^°^"^ffe ^^e had never
TI.0 hideous brutal god ZlT" " '™" ■■" """^ "^ ^"^
a..<I goafs feel, „as plac'ed ba 7,^*,. °'°''"'' '""■°^<' h™<l.
lamb, decked with flowers i" at I <■ '"■ """ " ^'^-S^tcreJ
^ frisking before hi„, blysld „„ ' ^'"t '^''^ "'^'^"^ "-ere
by the sight of a gauTwM """"T- ■'''""' """^ ''"'^ ^^-rtied
to dance too. He Vu„^ Ti T T' °«^""' ""'"' "-'gan
'tat they ceased thei sport to Zk I!'""' "'"■ ^^^^ 4or
as a diversion. "^ '° '"""^ "»■ ''alf with awe and half ■
wt™^el'?n?;\'Lra'„7°V° ''''™'^' ■" ■' '=«'"ond.
and the strug^fe ended "hfs f^Hir' "' ""^ ^""^ »»" act;
and crawling like a qnadruLt^ ? '! '"""■' """ ^^^
sot near^his attitude was stiU .! "" "'"• '«'''» ho
Bl".dderiig, he laid hl„ el 1?^^"° ' "'" ^-aning and
'» the idol as a worn I'd ^».'' «''°"-'^' »•> "'Sgled
-•".led blood and durw^ e T; .bTut^f '" '°"^- *"«
tten agam, as if Nature had suL r„ "'"^'=''- ^"<i
■i'g^ity, he jumped up hi4 n .hf ""^ "'''"^'^'' her own
troke him to pieces/and sclt T' ""'' ''^'"■'^ »■" the god,
'- ...e lookers^n -;cot::frttr;r. '' ^"■■^""' "-
*tH*^l
87. WAITING FOR THE MAT.
[Denis Florence M'Carthv an Trf=», k •
^"out 1820, ranks among «^ best jtin'"'™*''' '' '" '*"^^«"t ^^'nHy, and bor.
^H I .ny heart is weary waiting,
-^* Waitins for the M-y—
Waiting for the pleasani r'amble^, K-'^
1S8
THE SIXTH BEADBi;.
Where the fra-.ant hawthorn brambleu, ^^m,
With the woodbine alternating,
Sc^t the dewy way. '^vrj!^ [^^^\
Ah I my heart is Weary waiting,
Waiting for the May.
8. Ah I my heart is sick with longing,
Longing for the May-
Longing to escape from study
To the fair young face and ruddy,
And the thousand charms belonging
To the summer's day.
Ah I my heart is sick with longing,
Longing for the May.
«. Ah I my heart is sore with sighing.
Sighing for the May^
Sighing for their sure returning
When the summer-beams are burning,
Hopes and flowers that dead or dying
All the'fwinter lay.
Ah I my heart is sore with sighing,
Sighing for the May.
4. Ah I my heart is pained with throbbing LJU,^
Throbbing for the May— | ^
Throbbing for the seaside billows,
Or the water-wooing willows.
Where in laughing and in s^bing
Glide the streams away.
Ah 1 my heart is pained with throbbing,
Throbbing for the May.
6. Waiting, sad, dejected, weary,
Waiting for the May.
Spring goes by with wasted warnings—
Y^
Moonlit
Summ(
Man
IS
\ N era it h in
*■ he crosses t]
^'■%ed that shal,
■^oil we learn that
elements of our m
ary. Splendors th;
Jioavenly flashes th
natural and perman
summer is never en
tardior spring.
2. Elsewhere we I
and when wq enter i
and olives, and myr
tl'em a kind of sacn
«s atmosphere is fn
ir'ory uuimaifinable '
I'gf't into enchantme'n
Purple-roll along it,
«aly 18 of the soul •
''^■votion on account' (
"t ^f 'ch thoy typify.
J- " 18 the climo of
^^'^ nvMovia] trans%„,
'"''"•••'ag-e of the hrma
7' '"^'""^-''•«' '^" thi.M.
^^t'^'ieul stream of ido
«HKTORrcAL.
weaiy^ weary,
^a^tinff for the Maj- ,
1;29
88. ITALY.
i N" era ft is in the li/b nF .
^ he crosses the A ps ."^ '""'' ^h^»' ^^r the fi.st time
-'«P«^ that shall vtl t:y"'^'^''^y ••« touched and 2'
•^oil we learn th.f T ""^ *'^P''^"J forever TT ,
"y- Spk„d„„ that tl,o nor 1 '^•* '"™' ■■*""• Pontic, v"™
-onl, flashes that ftde ^ " Th "'"''^ ""'^ "^ ^^~
"•taral and pe.™a„,nt. Pr„„ ,! ""7 <^''" ^e felt, here ar»
^mmeris "over enM'relv „ 7^ "^^ """^ P'^i-^ of Itl
Mi..- spring. ""^ ""'"^'■"™. -rf Winter seems but »
2. Elsewhere we hqv« „.t-
»-; «',^- „„ enter 'he^^X ^t' "" "'" ■•" -"--ton-es' "
»''<! ol.ves, and myrtles ar. '""' "''"« orano-e-tree,
;;-; kind Of sa^r:'!::,^:'-:':"''..: "^--"^^-o i
I» atmosphere is fraj^ranee tl , ^'^' "''» '« «ke Italy » '
-f-y unim„„i„ah,, Its :;*r' ."■ "-"'y-.-'a canop/;
!'«'■ '"to enchantment. What mel d " '" *"•■" *" ™"»»on
'%•« of the soul, and the V. . " ''"<' ''''■''otaation of
*™tion on account of the S TT °f""" «ne enjoy o°
•■'^ -h.-ch they typif/ "" ^''"■" "'« 'ooks out ,,om' fhem
8. It IS the clime of \,t ii, .
fc-a'orial tran.fi.„r;<, i"'"; '""'P''! °f the -craments of
«"'aS:o of the for,,,, .,, °, ,'°, f'"'""'; "f "•» P"Potual
"». manners, all thi,„, ,ZZ ' ■ "-''"• """'^"''' Pa*
*■■-! strean, „f ideal 's,-, 1,1 ! '""""■"= 'l"»'''y- 'vr
1^0
'*y*-i
fi*
I out seems to fl
oat over tlio
130
THE BIXTII RKADER.
land and i-elract all piirooptiotiH, foulingH, and objncts into
bountiful outlines and hues. tai^^^'V.
4. it is the land of Antiquity, the school of History, tho
homo of tho Past. No time is recorded when Italy stood not
foremost in tho annals ; a scene where great things were
thoug-ht and wrou<jht. Etruscan, lloman, Pontifical, — these
civilizations have succeeded one anotiier, and no later one haa
effaced vestiges of that which preceded it. All now dwell
together ; and tho face of the land is a self-registering chroni.
cle of all that has been felt and done upon its surface. Hero,
under the calm, grave eye of the venerable Past, the Present
moves modestly and with self-distrust,
5. Here you may -stand in tho religious presence of the
Older Days, and imbibe a temper which is more than wisdom.
The active the stirring, the destructive wo leave behind when
wo cross the mountains. Existence here is moral, consulta-
tive, intellectual. It seems like an Elysium, where life is
fancied, and interests notional ; the blissful future state o(
an existence gone by, where shadowy forms rehearse in silent
show the deeds that once resounded, or elsewhere resound.
It is a land where all is ruin ; but where ruin itself is more
spltyidid, more permanent, and more vital than tho fresiicst
perfections of other countries. Wallack.
39. THE TYRANT AND THE CAPTIVB.
IT was midnight when I listened,
And I hoard two Voices speak ;
One was harsh, and stern, and cruel,
And the other soft and weak :
Yet I ^aw no Vision enter.
And I heard no steps depart,
Of this tyrant and his captive —
Faie it might be and a Heart,
1JIET0KIGAL.
^T,.««tl.o«te.-nVoico«pakci„ triumph;
I I'uve shut your V,; away
^7"/f'-^^'-tw.H,clofnaturc.
And the perfumed light of day
You who loved to «teop your spi.-it ^^iClC,
In the charm of Eurth'H delight.
See no glory of the daytime
And no sweetness of the night"
•But the soft Voice answered cahnly.
Just a winspcr to my window ^
I can dream the rest of Spring •
And/,o-dayI«,^,,,,^„J'"^'
Flitting past my prison bars,
And my cell has just one corner
Whence at night I see the stars n
*. But its bitter taunt repeating, flAl/.Uu
Cried the harsh VoiVo • "wl
Aiuhe friends of I:::; j:--*w.
Who forget your name to-day?
All the links of love are shattered, M^_
Which you thought so strong bj/ore :
And your very heart is lonely ^
And alone, since loved no more"
J^ay, I know the golden chain
Of my love is purer, stronger,
For the cruel fire of pain :
ihey remember me no longer
But I, grieving here alone/
Dind their sf)ii!« ♦.. .„„ x.
T, — '"<^ iureve<'
oy the love withi
18]
n my own."
189
m-i'^
KM
ci-
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
6. But the Voice cried : " Once remember
You devoted soul aud mind
To the welfare of your brethren,
And the service of your kind.
Now, what sorrow can you comfort?
You, who lie in helpless pain,
With an impotent compassion
Fretting out your life in vain."
1. "Nay;" and then the gentle answer
Rose more loud, and full, and clears
"For the sake of all my brethren,
I thank God that I am here I
Poor had been my Life's best e£forts,
Now I waste no thought or breath—
For the prayer of those who suflfer
Has the strength of Love and Death."
AdELAIDB a. PaOOTOK.
40. THE SUBMARINE TELEGRAPH.
TTITHERTO there seems to have been above earth but
AX little or no obstacle to the enterprise of man ; and
itjf^ y®* ^® ^^^ ofte^ ^een balked in his attempts to pass from
i one land to another. In his panting impatience to commu-
fticate with his fellow-man wherever he might be found, or in
obedience to that supreme law which commajids him to go
forth and people the earth, he has endeavored to track his way
IvUl^yv*" its remotest regions— he has dived into the darkest of its
I ' valleys, and there groped his way amidst the stones of the
torrent, to create a path beyond the chains of mountains that
seemed to shut him in.
2. He has climbed as high as it was possible for ail his
breathless vigor to bear him, until at length he hm como
to tho snow-ouist pyramids on the suiuiuit of the mountain
or the impas
and with wo
opposite rec-
plunging iu<
power of seei
power of the
been told, as j
pJored but by
to trace his f
without yieldi
3. He has n
nndermost of i
it to ascend its
ains— to pass
verance, the lik
two continents
80 safe by this
amount of "int
tocols of treatie
4. And what i
Greek used to b
eea, and which, j
it in the midst
electricity has be
into the air and
lives.
5. But this littl
ocean— this flash
shore—this fire wl
of the mighty wat
too sacred an expr
•'id of that chari
sacred text says, tl
»nd floods shall not
'•i saying, that it ia
"ioee lightnings w
EHETOBIOAL.
133
or the impassable glacier • ,,,d ,,, . ,
""d Witt wonderf,,, porse;o;Lt' r ■"' '"'""^ ''" «'°'^'
"Pposite region. But who eve 1 " ,'"'"'' "'" "^^ ■•"'» 'he ^
Pl-Sta«r into .he ve,; d : L:;? ' *'" ''°''^°f ^' "-ce
powerof seeing a single steD 1 !, ! '"='^''°' «■''»«»" the
po-r of the fathominVitaeC J™,^ '-i "'-ost beyond th.
l^on told, as great as the height of th K^^""*' ^ "^ '"'™
Plored b„t by a few individul! And f,!*^'''* """■'"■'^ <=^-
to trace his path, and has t ' /.d , *,"'" '"' '"" ^«"t°'ed
without yielding o any h„ ,' "'"'°"« <'<="'='«on, and
3- He has -de th^f p hT^t^f "^' »"»'-'-■ ^U^
undermost "f the valleys of that I- ^"^ '"*" ""= ^ery ,^
■' to ascend its steepest^pre ip cIltoT "^.'™ ' ''' "^^ ""d; 1^
a.n8-to pass down agL /« r~ ° ^ « ''' '''«'''^»' ■"°™l>
verance, the like of whL the word . ^ "" "^'"' "^ ?"«-
two continents have been moorld safe l' """"' """"''""^' *« ■
so safe by this little metalli/r. °°^ """"""■-moored ** '^i
;».onnt of .. inky blots^S rott Ha X "° "'"" P""-- "»
'ocols of treaties, could ever ave done "' '"""'=•" <"?'*
4. And what is the result „f t<.- ■'
««k used to boast of M ' ^ ^17"'^?* ' ^''y- ">«
«, and which, attached to thekl ', ' '"'" "''^*' «■«
" ■» the „,idst of the sea and „! t " ""''• ''"°" -io^troy
electrfcity has boon similar ; empired r" '"^ """^^ °'
- - - and oanse t J ^eSr of h ^^ oS^
5. Bot this little spark which •„
ocean-this flash of lightnii^ l,v? "'"" "'"*"= «»''" '*«
»k»re_this fire which born» P"'*' f™" siwre to
f too mighty waters maTrr 0"^' "^d"'^ '^'°" "■» «»"'
too sacred an expression to use-to be th?"' '' " ^'^^ ""t
■"■I of that charity between thlt ' '""^ "'' ">at love
■«red tezt says, that "maTv w!^ . """'""^ "'' "'™1> «>e
134
THE SIXTH READER.
talons, and let them drop into the ocean, and they will cross it
Bafely and come to us, not accompanied with any roar oi
thunder, but murmuring the words of softest peace.
Cabdinal Wiseman.
41. THE HUMAN VOICE,,
T GRIEVE to say it, but our people, I think, have not gen.
y,:^Mx^^ J- erally agreeable voices. The marrowy organisms, with
Bkins that shed water like the backs of ducks, with smooth
^ surfaces neatly padded beneath, and velvet linings to their''
singing-pipes, are not so common among us as that other
pattern of humanity with angular outlines and plain surfaces,
arid integuments, hair like the fibrous covering of a cocoa'
nut in gloss and suppleness as well as color, and voices at
once thin and strenuous,— acidulous enough to produce effer^
vescence with alkalis, and stridulous enough to sing duet?
with the^katydids.
2. I think our conversational soprano, as sometimes over-
heard in the cars, arising from a group of young persons,
who may have taken the train at one of our great industrial
^ centres, for instance,— young persons of the female sex, we
^^^ _ will say, who have bustled in full-dressed, engaged in loud
etrident speech, and who, after free discussion, have fixed on
two or more double scats, which having secured, they pro-
ceed to eat apples and hand round daguerreotypes,— I say, I
think the conversational soprano, heard under these circum
stances, would not be among the allurements the old enemj
would put in re-iaisition, were he getting up a new tempta-
tion of St. Anthony.
3. There are sweet voices among us, we all know, and
voices not musical, it may be, to those who hear them for the
first time, yet sweeter to us than any we shall hear until we
listen to Bume warbling angel in the overture to that eternity
of blissful harmonies we hope to enjoy. But why should I
l-fTAA^*-^
tell lies ? If n
the truth. I ne
ened me by th(
there might be
her voice to so
spoke, we wouk
the jaws of Ere)
4. Our only c
few natural choi
our souls, and tl
little, by-and-by
this is no fiction.
Sirens a fable, bi
Iddy who followe(
6. Whose wer
They both belong
maid, not otherw
certain great ho<
was summoned to
fioul was evidently
with sweet uncert;
6. But to hear
soft, liquid inflexii
of serious tendern
been a child that
riing, that, had her
accents,— if she h
stance, why, all I
that I should have
hy, and it is so mu(
only three minutes
lasts fifty years to
the line of descent
manifestations of j
only as short-lived
through the squart
BHETOBIOAI,.
135
tell hesf If my friends love mo. it is beca™,, 1 1„ ,„ „„
the ruth I never heard but two voice, in „,y „fc , '^ %,^^
.ned ,ne y their sweetness, . . . Tl,oy maJe „„ fc ,"^S' !^
there m.ght be constituted a creature with such „ herd i„
her vo,ce to some string in another's soul that tf she V* P/
spoke, we would leave all and follow her, though Vwee '2 '
the jaws of Erebus. "b" it were into
4. Our only chance to keep our wits is, that there are so
few natural chords between others' voices and this strW „
our .ouls, and that those which at first may hate treVa
httle, by-and-by come into harmony with it.But T ttl
this is no fiction. You mav call thJ Jn .11, ^°" /-
Sirens a fabln h,.* I J^'^^ c^" the story of Ulysses and the "
birens a fable, but what will you say to Mario and the noor
lady who followed him ? ^
5. Whose were those t.wo voices that bewitched me so?
certain great hotel was niissi„,^, and this Teutonic maiden
was summoned to give information respecting i, TL'rmple
«.u was evidently not long from her motherland, and poke
with sweet uncertainty of dialect. ^
6. But to hear her wonder and lament and suggest with
B ft, liquid inflexions, and low, .ad murmurs, in tones as full
of serious tenderness for the fate of the lost key a f it had
been a chiM that had strayed from its mother^as so wil
nnig that had her features and figure been as d lici' us as W
accents,--if she had looked like the marble Clvt" for n
hat I should have drowned myself. For Lake EHe la do
llmZrT. '■'''' ^'''''' *^"" ^ -^^^alliance, that
1 i!^f!f y^" "'^^^"'^"^ ^'^^" P^«««« along down
^^e 1 ne of descent (breaking out in all manner of boor^
mnifestations of feature and manner, which if men "" -1
tlirouo-h ""l";"^'^^ "' ^^"^^'^«' ^°"JJ l*'-' readily traced back
tlirough the square-roots and the cube-roots of the family '
->m
136
THE SIXTH READER.
Btem on which you have hung the armorial bearings of the
De Champignons or the De la Morues, until one came to
beings that ate with knives and said "Haow?"), that no
person of right feeling ' could have hesitated for a single
moment.
7. The second of the ravishing voices I have heard was,
as I have said, that of another German woman.— I suppose I
sbill ruin myself by saying that such a voice could not have
come from any Americanized human being. ... It had so
much woman in it,— muliebrity, as well as femineity ;~m
self-assertion, such as free suffrage introduces into every
word and movement; large, vigorous nature, running back
to those huge-limbed Germans of Tacitus, but subdued by the
reverential training and tuned by the kindly culture of fi%
generations. Sharp business habits, a lean soil, independ-
ence, enterprise, and east winds, are not the best things for
the larynx.
8. Still you hear noble voices among us,— I have known
families famous for them,— but ask the first person you meet
a question, and ten to one there is a hard, sharp, metallic,
matter-of-business clink in the accents of the answer, that
produces the effect of one of those bells which small trades-
people connect with their shop-doors, and which spring upon
your ear with such vivacity, as you enter, that your first
impulse is to retire at once from the precincts.
9- —Ah, but I must not forget that dear little child I
saw and heard in a French hospital. Between two and three
years old. Pell out of a chair and snapped both thigh-bones.^'^'
Lying in bed, patient, gentle. Rough students round her,
ome in white aprons, looking fearfully business-like ; but the
child placid, perfectly still. I spoke to her, and the blessed
little creature answered me in a voice of such heavenly
sweetness, with that reedy thrill in it which you have
heard in .he thrush's even-song, that I hear it at this mo
ment, while I aia writing, so many, many years afterwnrds^-
BHETORICAL.
187
"C'est tout comme un serin ''^ oniri ^i r^ i
Bide. ' ^^'^ ^^^ ^^■^^"'^^ «tuJt>nt at my
10. These are the voiced which RfrnrV +i,„ i
conceptions as to what tl,P J ''^^■""*^ «^ '"y
will be, if we shalT ent.? H "1 "' ''' *" ^^^^^ '" ^^^^^n
V, " wt^ Buaii enter throuffh mip nf +i.« + i
-a some grave theolcgians have maintained.-if in BlaTn'
Te th in a ;:::, r"-'^""'™" '""> ^-'^). »<• wait
»e .Jne:;Ix;z^.r/::f;:::r;e:-
Holmes.
43. THE BELL OF LIBERTY.
[This Is an admirable descrintinn „v +i.„ « ^ G^'^'^^-r,, .
l-tion 01 the Vr^^^ZTT^T^TiT T"'^"' *^«^-
controL] ''^ "®° '^"^ Independent of aU British
-ore than doubtM F ! °°"''"=' """ "■"" f""""' »>« ^
''.'gtldtlti:''"''-,''''"^ ''^^- ""*"'* <"f "^ fet'era V-
^tnea nis Jiobte spirit, arose on the tth f>f Tnr . . "^
'-"*' 'f'^ f>i June, ana in a
' Just lifre a caaajy-bird.
138
THE SIXTH READER.
clear, MWmato tone, every accent of which rang to the hv
tht'dt «xtrcmity of the silent hall, proposed the following reso
liition i •
" Jkmlvfd, That these United Colonies are, and ought to be,
Umi ttud iiidepcndent States, and all political connection btc
iviGun m and the States of Great Britain is, and ought to be,
totally dbsolved."
8. John Adams, in whose soul glowed the burning future,
ieeondfed tho resolution in a speech so full of impassioned fer-
vor, thrilling eloquence, and prophetic power, that Congress
was carried away before it, as by a resistless wave. The die
wa» ca»t, and every raan was now compelled to meet the
dreadful l»»He. The resolution was finally deferred till the
Igt (if 3\\\y, to allow a committee, appointed for that purpose,
to draft a Declaration of Independence.
4, When the day arrived, the Declaration was taken up,
and debated article by article. The discussion continued for
three day», and was characterized by great excitement. At
length, the various sections having been gone through with,
the next day, July 4th, was appointed for final action. It was
noon known througliout the city; and in the morning, before
Congreg* assembled, the streets were filled with excited men,
mmQ gathered in groups, engaged iu eager discussion, and
Otheri moving towards the State House.
b. AU business was forgotten in the momentous crisis which
the country had now reached. No sooner had the members
taken their seats than the multitude gathered in a dense mass
arottnd the entrance. The bell-man mounted to the belfry, to
be ready to proclaim the joyful tidings of freedom as soon a*
llie final vote had passed. A bright-eyed boy was stationed
below to give the signal.
6, Arotind the b«')l, brought from England, had been cast
more than twenty years before the prophetic motto :
**VlWQLhiM LiBEBtr THROUGHOUT ALL THE LaND UNTO ALL VSM
Inhabitants thereof."
Although iti loud clang had often sounded over the city, tha
BHETORICAL.
139
proclamation engraved nn ito {..^„ t i. ,
O'clock, «/d„o'r Iflh Var;pe!: l"?'"' "' "'","" '""
"It has Dassed" Ti,^ ^ "penea, and a Aoice exclaimed,
ward w th a clan«r +}.n+ .f. ^j i i^-iCKwaid and for- Mxi^
dicing tnat startled every he.irt in Pi.,-i„^ i i.-
like a bugle-blast. " Oin„. f .,...„ .! ^. '!!^ /" Pt"ladelphia
Clang I clang 1» the Bell of Liberty re-
.0;. ace™. „™. .T ,„ ,a:rr:r t::^ -"jr -
When thoy reached New York b ,s raJL T T'"'
«w», and the e.cited ^ultitud , surgt. Sr " d « ? °™"'
10. When the Declaration arrived in Rnafn. ,u
gathered to old Faneuil Hall to hZl ! ' *''" P'^^P'"*
sentence fell from the lip!: 1 ::,t?^^ ^^ *'^ '^^^
and soon from everv fortilr t 7.' ""^ «^""t wentup,
thunder of cannonZSh'^^^^^^ ^^' ^^^^'^ ^^^^^^^ *'-
140
THE SIXTH READEB.
A
43. THE JUST MAN. .
JUST man is always simple. Ho is a man of direct aimi
and purposes ; there is no complexity in his motives,
I }Wlr' and, thence, there is no jarring or discordancy in his character.
He wishes to do right, and in most cases 'he does it ; he may
err, but in most cases it is by mistake of judgment, and not
by perversity of intention. The moment his judgment is en-
lightened, his action is corrected. Setting before himself
always a clear and worthy end, he will never pursue it by any
concealed or unworthy means.
2. We may carry our remarks, for illustration, both into
private and into public life. Observe such a man in his home,
there is a charm about him, which no artificial grace has ever
had the power to bestow ; there is a sweetness, I had almost
said, a music, in his manners, which no sentimental refinement
has ever given. His speech, ever fresh from purity and recti-
tude of thought, controls all that are within its hearing, with
an unfelt, yet a resistless sway. Faithful to every domestic
trust, as to his religion and his God, he would no more prove
LXm ■ recreant to any loyalty of home, than he would blaspheme the
Maker in whom he believes, or than he would forswear the
heaven in which' he hopes.
3. Fidelity and trutL to thude bound by loVe and nature ^to^
his heart, are to him most sacred principles ; they throb in the
last recesses of his moral being, they are embedded in the life
of his life ; and to violate them, or even think of violating
them, would seem to him as a spiritual extermination, the
Buicide of his soul. Nor is such a man unrewarded, for the
goodness he so largely gives is largely paid back to him
again ; and though the current of his life is transparent, it is
not shallow ; on the contrary, it is deep and strong. The river
that fills its channel glides smoothly along in the power of
its course ; it is the stream which scarcely covers the rugged-
ness of its bed, that is turbulent and noisy.
4. With all this gentleness, there is exceeding force ; with
.^'i'W' ii
KHi<T,ORlOAL.
HI
sli this ineoki)CH<j th ■
■■• '"e force of wL,!:;;:;':;;:™';- "7""" ■■ '"' "■« f-e
fathers an angry or an hrifaWe c „ ,d" " ?""""'^'' ""-
n.ier; and this sway, which ad, ij^ l"" ."'° '"™ "f ""'
oppress one honest impnl,,. „f '„" "" ■•™'»»»'><;e, does n„,
e»"l's high freedon,, one i,o„„d „?? ^ ""' >"oven,c„t of tie
<len gladness, in the spirit ,11^^ 'T "" '"■"""» ■"■"«
5 Takp thJc 1 '" ^'^ tne governed.
-p4::^rtXetCi':r"-, r- '■■■- »-«
..there for no selfish ambition am ^T '""" '"''"'S'^' ! ><"
;ol.i» country, he wi„ be n^Cr' to""'' '" '^ ■""'' '''^="
™ ". the legislative assen,b; t Ih rhT'^'f- "'"^^
fr^t-es send him, he maintains invil,! , '"^ "'"''"? ««f-
with a brave cl„„„,.nee he n^.ir u " "'"" »''"«' '" h™ •
with a grave dig ity" t™" ""h "''"'"^ "^ "■" -•'-«"
P'acehim in the connciTo t 'e! ! "t""''^™ "^ '"^ --«"
favor can win him, and no dan " ? '? '""S''"'*''. ""i no
'»d fearless of po™, he wm afl t IT J '""■*''"■<'"' '» '>^<^
'■•« «tand by it, what;verle th:::',t '"''' ''''*' ^''^ O"
te Itaens not to popular elan h! '"■"°"'' '"■™ ''""'=' '
PO'er; and, whi e he is l„Tdi "' "°' '»■■«» «cowl of
fc fountain of justice aLToK T ""°P"'™ ^''»" -"^
;"-. Place h?m in the" ll * ™f »° »'■''" ""Pede its
for lis opinion, let life or delthr "'" ''"''""i »>" upon him
.P;»^ rashly, bnt he IS X^fZ!^^ -""• "^ -" not
iwtdtrte:^,:;;,^^^^
'l*enT,ang „pon his necfctt , ™7 """'f'^ »'«■>*, let
Wes in,pl„re, he mee s affl 1 ''"""'^' '<" """"f-
I wl* others ...ecB r ■ T '""' "ff^tion: he »„„.
i-p«-'-y;rS;::;,n:ii:s\-\:*-cea,t£
'^' *"*^ tile waves strike
Gy.i
I., -r
11 I
#t--^^:i
142
THE SIXTH READER.
^
against his breast, his foiuidation based unchangeably on tho '
centre of eternal right, his head majestically erect, gloriously
• lifted up to heaven, bends not before the shock, and his breasj
receives the tempest only to shiver it. w-'-^' v,
8. Place him in the dungeon ; shut him in from tho fair^.
earth and the open sky; wrench him from the delights ot
lome ; let him be loaded with years ; let him be enfeebled by
eickness ; let him be wearied with confinement ; let life hang
IX ^y t^*<^ finest thread that ever held a spirit from its God,—
J the unwavering faith of a true man upholds him, and his hope
jt ' remains undimmed, and his peace remains unbroken.
9. Call him from the dungeon to his doom, he goes rejoicing
to the scaffold ; he looks cheerfully on the axe ; he faces death
almost with gayety ; he forgives his enemies; he pities his
destroyers ; he wishes good to all men ; he gives a moment to
silent prayer ; he meekly lays his head upon the block ;— then,
there is the echo of a blow that sends a sou! to heaven. This
character is not imaginary ; it is real, it is practicable. Tlie
origiual is Sir Thomas More, of England. gilkb.
44. SUMMER HYMN.
[Scheffler, who wrote under the name "Angelus," holds a distinguished rank
among the poets of sacred subjects in Germany. -The glories of sunrise, tlio
yy^^ Boft radiance of the mellow moon, the tints of the spring flowers, the silvery
stream, the noics of though tingale, the sound of tlie lute In which he mdt
tho reflected beauty of their Creator, have a peculiar and incxpreasible c'lana,
IS in the writings of Angelus.]
Tj^ARTH has nothing sweet or fair,
-Li Lovely forms or beauties rare,
But before my eyes they bring
Christ, of beauty source and spring.
a. When the morning paints the skies,
When the golden sunbeams rise,
Then my Saviour's form I find
Brightly imaged on my mind.
t. Sweet
Sweet
Far mi
Are til
8. Sweetn
At t*he
But mo
Is to m
9. Lord of
Come, r(
See Thin
RHETORICAL.
<- When, as moonlight soCt]y steals vU
Heaven it<4 fhr.., > o'-t-Mis, i,nt>t .
Then r , ."""f "=■ ">'<-'8 revcah,
& » thousand timt-s more bright
*• When !<,,;„
P^eMs their .anod tints display,
What must their Creator bo?
Or he brooklet's devions conrs;
S ra.ffht n>y thoaghts to Jesus ,no„„t
Ab the best and purest fount. '
*• f "'? '^ '""« ""^ "'Stt-bird sings
c:r:::tr^"™"-"-'^««'^-"
-.re sweet than every tone |
Are ^ae words, Maria's Son. -
At the echo's answering sound;
Bu more sweet than echo's fal]
Js to me the Bridegroom's call.
••^ord of all that's fair to seel
Oome, reveal Thyself to me •
tT ^u- '"'^^ ^^^'^ ^^^'^«t light
See Thme unveiled g,„rie« hnglt ■ •
143
144
THE SIXTH READER.
10. Let Thy Deity profound
Mo in heart and soul surround;
Pronn my soul its idols chase, •
Wean'd from joys of time and place.
11. Come, Lord Josns I and dispel
This dark cloud in which I dwell;
Thus tu me tlie power impart,
To behold Tiiee as Tiiou art.
Thom the Gehmait o» SoHBrrLia,
45. THE CHRISTIAN PREACHER.
["The dignity and grandeur of the office of the Christian preacher have never
been more eloquently described than in Lamartine's magnificent sketch ot
Bosauet."— Potter.] ^
/^F all the eminences which a mortal may reach upon earth,
Vy the highest to a man of talent is incontestably the sacrcfl
pulpit. If this individual happens to be Bo88uet--that is to
say, if he unites in his person conviction to inspire the com
manding attitude, purity of life to enhance the power of truth,
untiring zeal, an air of imposing authority, celebrity which
commands respectful attention, episcopal rank which c* nse-
jrates, aye, which gives holiness of appearance, genins which
constitutes the divinity of speech, reflective power which marks
the mastery of intelligence, sudden bursts of eloqii.juce which
carry the minds of listeners ].y assault, poetic im igery which
adds lustre to truth— a deep, sonorous voice which reflects the J
tone of the thoughts— silvery locks, the paleness of strong"
emotion, the penetrating glance and expressive mouth— in a
word, all the animated and well-varied gestures which indi-
cate the emotions of the soul— if such a man issues slowly
from his self-concentrated reflection, as from some inwaid
sanctuary— if he suffers himself to be gradually, by excite-
ment, like the euglc, tiie first heavy fla[ipmg of whose wings
can scarcely pn
leii.^-th respires fi
pulpit beneath hi
vine Spirit, and p
Ihe inspiration wi
being is no longei
Divine will, a pro
2. And what
hroken, soured, in
sionato struggles
which, like that of
«he cathedral, has
I power and Divine
speaks to kneeling
profound si.ence, t(
of the head or by
soull a voice whic
when it astonishes c
speak in the name
name of philosophy
name of country, wh
promacy, which is t<
'"'raself, who is an u
wl'ich speaks, in the
unequalled upon earl
'8 hnpious and the an
46
[These graceful and exn
^^wded into a brief space
"^Peating the idea presentee
"WHAT i
^^ The,
— -•'--atll- — a
The shadow
RHETORICAL.
HM
UB
loi.« i« ■„, l„„g„,. i„ji„™;; , '^;; ™ "» '*« "°rd of God-,,.,-,
Wvino will, „ p,„ph,„.„ ™;'^'_^"'"° ! <"> l-ocome, an „,.^a„ of (,,„
3. And what a TOicol A v •
l.r"kc.„, eonrod, irritated, or troubled T.";'' ''" "'"" ''»">•»<'. '«-(.
..onato str„,,,.,e» „f in'teresT pe ^ ^, "r"'!'"^ ""« P- ^
»l'"^li, like that of the thunder T hi . , '"" ' * ""'"o
'k« cathedral, has never bee, T 't '"f"' " '"^ °'«'"' '■' ''
power and Divine persuasion otTe of • a" "^ "■"'""" "'
.pcalts to kneeling auditor. • . ""',' i" ™M which only
profound si.enee, to whi hnLt ? ""''='' '^ "''""^d to in
of the head or by faZ! tears 7' "'° '^ "" '""""""o-
"II a voice which is „e™ ~f H """" "^"^'""'^ »' «>e
"ken it astonishes or wound, a v!^^ ."'■ '=»"fadicted, even
•peak in the n«„e of o^Zl „h '■ '" '"'■ ""'='• "^^ ""t
«»e of phi,„3„phy, wli rUe to d "™'''° ' ""' '•» '"«
name of country, which is l„ al n ' ^ Ir"'"'™ ' "'"■ '" «"«
P»»acy, which is temporal, .or^tl ' " "' ''^'' «"■
l"">«eif, who is an a„„„t tran!f ?. '""""' "'' *« ^P^aker
«feh speaks, in the'nle :f 07! '".k"'" °"^''^'"' i "«'
""equalled „p,>„ earth, and aLin,; ■ ■ '1 .""''^ "' '""^''-S"
" -p'o- -d the ^naiiest oTp::;::::^::^;" """""
'»« .-e^a „,. tiff ^ «"'«''
,^M.
_lheechoofal„„g.,ostname,.
A h,
The shadow of
an lUlo hour's brief talk
an arrant naug-ht
U6
THE SIXTH READER.
A flower that blossoms for a day,
Dying next morrow ;
A stream that hurries on its way,
Singing of sorrow ;
The last drop of a bootless shower, S^
Shed on a sear and leafless bower ;
A rose stuck in a dead man's breas^-
This 19 the world's fame, at the best!
Uml^
».■> i-t
"What is fame? and what is glory?
A dream — a jester's lying story.
To tickle fools withal, or be c4>At>u^
A theme, for second infancy ;
A joke scrawled on an epitaph, flftJk' ,
A. grin at death's own ghastly laugh;
A visioning that tempts the eye,
But mocks the touch — nonentity;
A rainbow, substanceless as bright.
Flitting forever.
O'er hill-top to more distant height,
Nearing us never;
. A bubble blown by fond conceit, Um-
In very sooth itself to cheat ; b.»v%^.r^
The witch-fire of a frenzied brain, iA^^ |U'
A fortune that to lose were gain ; . '
A word of praise, perchance of blame, .A^v-f
The wreck of a time-bandied name — \^-f;*iil
Ah 1 this is Glory 1 this is Fame 1" '
MoTHnimu.
47. CHRISTENDOM.
• [NoValb belonged to that brilliant society, consisting of Tieck, the two
Schlegelfl, and Stolberg, which, at the commencement of the pr-sent century,
ss?jt6\i SO pOnTeiiul sn {HSuCBee iu arreatiug the progress of ihut litcfsij
Pacpmism which Leasing, Goethe, and others had encouraged and promoted
RHETORICAL.
ur
Noralis powessed wonderful versatilif^ nf .
forp<^tical richness and r^ri^TTZ^^^;-^ "'' '*"'' '" '"""'''''''"^
pervaded Germany, he caught a glhnpfe "fT T ""' '""^"^"^ ^P^* that
.anctuary of the Church4.hcn h?wrena ef 7" "'k'^' ''""*' ''°'" *^«
"^ ^'^*^-^ T^^f """^y by the pitiless hand
rPHOSE were the bnlliant and ffIorio„« t; u '
J- formed one Christian couL T ""'' "^^^^ ^"•"^Pe
.abited this civilized porioro/^^^^^^^^ ^"^' ^'^"«*-^- '-
mterest bound together the 'L?' ^^'^"' '^"^ «"« ^""''"on
widely-extended spi^itualenTpi "w'^ ^"^'"^^« °^ *"'«
possessions, one head guided Ld ' united th ^''^* '"'"'"''
powers. A numerous corporatTon to v .' ^"'^' P°^'*'«^^
accea, stood in subordinat o Hfa * hlf T^ °°^ '^' -
mandates, and zealously strove to n t/"'' '^''"*^'^ '*«
power. Every member of ft / '^^n^o'^date its salutary 4^t
2. A filial co^^^etr^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^
How serenely could each onp n7f I *^^" '°«t'"ction8.
tbese holy men a secu'e f" Lrf "" '" '"'^ *^«^' ^^^ ^y
every tranVession?afoS";r^' ''"'"^' '^^ ^™' ^°^
"Te was blc>tted out and eSf'ThevT" 'f^' ^"^^^^ «^
7-nd.^. on tri::; :ro:r\rcorr ^ ^^^^^^ ^
to^d^ra^arut:^^^^^^^^^^^^^
out from them. They nrerrr 1 ''''■^'- ^^^^e went
-venous Virgin 'f Tr s^^ lo "VT ^^ ^^^ ^^^^'
heavenly power, was prepared to Ln ' """^ ""''^ *
the most fearful dangers "' ""^'^^ ^^^^'^^^^ from
Child, had withstood "^hetel t'5" '"' '^^ ^-"-
-.^., „„„.» to nu,„a„ity at the throne of G«l. " •" °""'"'
* ""'' ""'""^ °' -'■"' d'" -n leave the boa„.if„,
148
THE SIXTH READER.
assemblies in ihoae churches, which were adorned with heart-
stirring' pictures, filled with the sweetest odors, and enlivened
by a holy and exalting music I In them were gratefully pre«
served, in costly vessels, the sacred relics of these venerable
servants of God. And in these churches, too, glorious signs
and miracles attested as well the eflBcacious beneficence of
these happy saints, as the Divine goodness and omnipotence.
6. In the same way as tender souls preserve Jjjcks of hair,
or autographs of their departed loves, and nourish thereby
the sweet flame of affection, down to the reuniting hour of
death ; so men then gathered with pious assiduity whatever
had belonged to those holy souls, and every one esteemed him-
self happy who could possess, or even touch, such consoling
relics.
t. Here and there the grace of heaven lighted down on some
favored image or tombstone. Thither men flocked from all
countries to proffer their fair donations, and brought back in
return those celestial gifts — peace of mind and health of body.
8. This powerful but pacific society zealously labored to
make all men participators in its beautiful faith, and sent forth
its missionaries to announce everywhere the gospel of life,
and make the kingdom of heaven the only kingdom of this
world.
9. At the court of the head of the Church the most prudent
and the most venerable men in Europe were assembled.
Thither all treasures flowed ; the destroyed Jerusalem had
avenged herself, and Rome had become Jerusalem — the holy
abode of God's government on earth.
10. Princes submitted their disputes to the arbitration of
the common Father of Christendom, willingly laid down at his
feet their crowns and their regal pomp, and esteemed it a glory
to become members of the great clerical fraternity, and pass
the evening of their lives in divine contemplation within the
walls of a cloister.
11. How very beneficial, how well adapted to the exigencies
of humau nature were these religious institutions, is proved
BHETORICAL.
149
by the vigorous expansion of all h,
'nonious developn^ent of all n 1!^'". '°^^^''^«-t)y the har-
which they promoted-bv IhT^r,- ^'^**'^"^'^t"^l faculties
viduals attained to in every d!n.^^^''"' ^'''^^'' ^^'^^ 'ndi-
and by the universall/prZ ^^ "' "' ''' ''' «-'---
in intellectual or rnatLTreZnT T '' ''""''' "^^t^-
-- Of Europe, and evenrtt:!!:!^? ''' ^^"^
NovAUg.
48. THE GOOD OLD TIMES.
[Rev. J. M. Neale U a Puaevltn „i
WB lato work, "HieroIog^r^S/^^- The followin, ^tract, f™„. '
8t the present time.] ^^ ^ ^^ ""^^ force to the state of Enghmd
AH I the good old tiraes of Enn-Iand 'oZ'^ft
^ From their Holy F^ith , ^^'''"''' ^'^^''^ her evil day, "
fell away , "''' "'' ^'^^ ^"-'^^t rites, her peo^I,
When her gentlemen had f
to feel J • ' ^-^'^ ^^^«' ^°d her yeomen hearts
^j^^^ y nonored, for they knew that Hfe who for us
M whea the ecu, was tdt m et .Ih'Tk'"' T ""''
yet more ; " "^' ^^^ Church could do
For the chanting priests came slow in f * .
went on before ' ^ ^'°°*' *"^ ^^^ Cross
And n' +k 'H'^U^
To teltrZT-f ^,r..^«^» ""^ --^ — wave,
grave; " "°'-' "'""O" "»'» victory o'er the
150
THE SIXTH READER.
But times and things are alter'd now, and Englishmen begiK
To class the beggar with the knaye, and poveity with sin.
in.
"We shut them -p from tree and flower, and from the blessed
sun ; i
We tear in twain the hearts that God in wedlock bad made
one —
The hearts that beat so faithfully, reposing side by side,
JUvX^. ^.For fifty years of weal and woe, from eve till morning-tide ;
No gentle nun with her comfort sweet, no friar standeth
nigh.
With ghostly strength and holy love, to close the poor man'e
eye;
But the corpse lo thrown into the ground, when the prayers
are hurried o'er, ''
To rest in peace a little while, and then make way for more I
IV.
We mourn not for abbey lands, e'en pass they as they may I
But we mourn because the tyrant found a richer spoil than
they ;
He cast away, as a thing defiled, the remembrance of the
just,
A.nd the relics of the martyrs he scattered to the dust;
Yet two, at least, in their holy shrines, escaped the spoiler's
hand ;
And S. Cuthbert and S. Edward might alone redeem • a land !
And still our litanies ascend like incense, as before ;
And still we hold the one full faith Nicsea taught of yore.
A.
V.
/
And still our children, duly plunged in the baptismal flood
Of water and the Holy Ghost, are made the Sons of God ;
And still our solemn festivals from age to age endure,
And wedded troth remains as firm, and wedded love as pure
m'a landl
>re ;
t of yore.
JLM'.<
jmal flood
3 of God;
idure,
ve as pure
BHETORIOAL.
England of Saintfl f fk« i, .
Ti- .et I aeeJ it» ^I LT-f "/f " " ^^ «»
<\u.u^i^ "^^^ ' "^ay aot live to see,
Shall melt a wait of ♦»,
T^en Shalt thou^^nVX^Ct^if H^ ^^^^ *^« «-e ,
above : ^ "''* '^^^'^fi^*^' % martyrs' prayers ^
Then Shalt thou find thy truest wealth fh • ». ,
love ; ^ ^emh, their holy deeds of
And thy Church, awaking from her sW
at length, ^"^ ^^^®P' ^^^^^e glorious forth
Again shall banner, orosa »„j
i"oen.ed aisfe. ' ""^.l^' «'«""' through the
vir.
ct,xr ''''■■"■ '^^''--•■•--h„oh..
,^^ _ nes, and mat™, .hall have each their hoi,
%ht ; *^ '" '**^°' but not without the
'"""'"'^""'"'''•'"'— ^.-Oodde^nd the right, .
169
THE SIXTH RE\DER.
<
Vt
<
49. MARYLAND.
IMr, B««d WM a brilUant lawyer and eloquent orator of Maryland. Tht
tolJ^Bf extract 18 from an impressive address delivered on the anniversary
0f tb« kmlitig of Lord Baltimore and his colony on the green shorei of ihe St
Mary** Hiver.]
rpUB land of Mary, so named at the instance of Henrietta
•■- Maria, was to receive, in its sheltered seclusion, the siiffer-
ing brethren in the ilaith of the youthful queeiwBut the exac-
tbitf of the Penal Code so inpoverished the Catholics of Eno--
land and Ireland, from among whom the first emigrants were
collected, that it was only at an immense expense, out of his
private fortone,(which had, as yet, through causes already al-
Itided t©, remained intact,jthat the proprietary was enr.bled to
equip, nnder the conduct of his brother, who seems to have
been eminently fitted for ttie trust, an expedition of about two
bnodred gentlemen, including their domestics.
3, With eqaal piety avd taste, he denominates "The Ark,"
the sUmt whip that was to bear this family ."'"om the devasta-
tion ©f the ancient world, with the sacred traditions o' prime-
Tftl times, to the green bosom of a new earth. Her light con- '
sort i§ named "The JDove," and the voyagers prepare to leave
their home,
$. Tlmr home I What a tale of sorrow is concentrated in
that single word 1 a sensual utilitarianism had not then sub-
dued the hmt feelmga of the heart and philosophized the expa-
triation ef a family, down to the cold calculations of expe-
diency tliat direct the migration of a commercial firm. The
country had trampled and spurned them, but it war, reserved
for modem times to hear, that " to make us love our country,
our country must be lovely." Oh no 1 such is not the lat
guage of tfdth and nature.
4. We love our country, because it is our country, maugre
the malice or misrule of man j God has, for wise purposes.
bnplanted in our bosoms the principle of attachment. Wo
lore throti|fh the blest necessity of loving, ere we can well di**-
RHETORICAL.
153
'iM,
n.ay be blighted ^ ^^Z^ZH^ZZ'' ''^^'^^" '-^ i'-^
first I„.„riauce orij. stiffen, i„ d'eaft '''''"'' °' "''''^ '' ^
.hen,.e,ves bad !dber/d tZftr; LITC l^e:"" J
which is sustained bvZLf^ *^' * "•""'"=' ""•"I'ood,--
fi™„e. a,™a.e^ bZ k J^ b'Zt'r'.Tr^r'-^' "^
pa% and „„.„,!:":; zf^:^:^^'^::^ ^z^^
.rcsa, ,n contempt and obscunV, but stil, tboy ltd ^t- *
--" Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified.
Their constancy they kept, their love, their zeal •
Nor nun^ber nor example with them brought '
T™ from truth, or change their conftaiit mind." -...t;;^
And dear to theln was the fair >an,i ,u
d«; tX h ;'lZf;f "^ r'^ r ^""e cliffs, he. ve.
her ocean ireeLs T oat w tt , ', '"* °""""^ *^ ^"^'^ >"
Spenser, of Dryd n and Zt "^"^^ "' ^''""=''' »""
Surrey" the"; l.^ ®'"'^™P'"''-». and "all.aocomplish..d
i-Hnce, of i::i":ft' :^:^pv; :;':^^ i---^' -; » Bia*-
the T^lbJt^ "t ' '^^" ^^^^'^'-d^' ^J'e Cliffords, the Spencers
Talbols-,-the mei^vvho sou.^ht the shock of nation/aa thly
*AV^1
154
TUB SIXTH READEJR.
%
did the fierce pastime of the tourney — who bowed in confes-
Bion, and knelt at Mass, and received their incarnate God,
Bheathed in the armor that might cofiSn theii corpses ere the
Ban went down ; England, rich in monuments of the free juris-
prudence of her early Catholic times — the work of her Brae-
tons, her Britons, her Fortescues ; rich in the monuments of her
old Catholic charity — her churches, before which modern imi-
tation sits down abashed and despairing; her cities of colleges,
whose scholars once were armies ; richer in the virtue cf her
saints, her Beckets, her Mores, her Fishers, and the countless
array whose names, though unhonored on earth, are registered
in the Book of Life, and whose blood pleads louder to heaven
than the prayers of her Sibthorpes and her Spencers, for the
return to Christian unity of the beautiful land it has made
holy 1 Wm. Geo. RBEa
60. THE FEMALE MARTTH.
[Mary G , aged eighteen, a " Sister of Charity," died in one of our Atlantic
cities during the prevalence of the Asiatic cholera, while in voluntary attend-
ance on the aiclc]
FOR thou wast one in whom the light
Of Heaven's own love was kindled well,
Enduring with a martyr's might, *
Through every day and wakeful night, "*
Par more than words may tell:
Gentle, and meek, and lowly, and unknown —
Thy mercies measured by Jiy God alone I
2. Where many hearts were failing, — where
The throngful street grew foul with death
0, high-souled martyr 1 — thou wast there
Inhaling from th ; loathsome air ^
Poison with every breath.
Yet shrinking not from offices of dread
For the wrung dying, and the uucousciouB dead.
^^ •
BIfETORICAL. .. J55
3-And whoio the sickly jT^r shed
Its %ht through vapors. da„.p. confined,
A new Electra by the bed
Of suffering human-kind !
Pointing the spirit, in its dark dismay, h.,.,,^^
To that pure hope which fadeth not L^. tt
4. Innocent teacher of the high ^
And holy mysteries of Heaven I
lu mute and awful sympathy,
As thy low prayers were given;
And the o'erhovering Spoiler wore, the while, IL ^
An angel's features-a deliverer's smile I t^^
*• t^^""'^^^ *^«k I and worthy one
Who, turning from the world, as thou
Before l.fe's pathway had begun '
Had r^ i\^P""^:*''"« flower and sun,
Had sealed her early vow •
n^Hv: IV'' '^^"*^'^°^ ^- youth.
Her pure affecfons and her guileless truth. ^ U.
^' Co'nS n °'' ''"'■'^ '^''' Nothing here
Could be for thee a^e^ reward;^ ^
. ^^'"«J8 a treasure far more dear! !
Eye hath not seen it, nor the ear
Ot living mortal heard,—
The joys prepared-^the' promised bliss above^
The holy presence of Eternal Love 1
t. Sleep on in peace. The earth h: s not
A nobler name than thine shall be.
The deeds by martial manhood wrought.
The lolty energies of thought, d^
■ine fare of poesy-^
These havo Hut f.."jj -_j « ,.
«?},»ii T- '" '""'' ^^°'"^ honors;-
Shall Tme unto Eternity consign.
W^
k
-ttam
\
W6 THE SIXTH READER.
8. Yea, and when thrones shall crumble down,
And human pride and grandeur fall, —
The herald's line of long renown —
The mitro and the kingly crown —
Perishing glories all I
The pure devotion of thy generous heart
Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part.
Whitthb.
Im
X
tvi»->'^
^
Y(h
61. AMERICAN HISTORY.
rpHE study of the history of most other nations fills the
•A- mind with sentiments not unlike those whicli the American
traveller feels on entering the venerable and lofty cathedral
of Bome proud old city of Europe. Its solemn grandeur, its
vastness, its obscurity, strike awe to the heart. From the
richly-painted windows, filled with sacred emblems and strange
antique forms, a dim religious light falls around. A thousand
recollections of romance, poetry, and legendary story como
thronging in upon him. He is surrounded by the tombs of the
mighty dead, rich with the labors of ancient art, and em.
blazoned with the pomp of heraldry.
2. What names does he read upon them ? Those of princes
and nobles, who are now remembered only for their vices ; and
of sovereigns at whose death no tears were shed, and whose
memories lived not an hour in the affection of their people.
There, too, he sees other names, long familiar to him for their
guilty or ambitious fame. There rest the blood-stained soldier
of fortune, the orator who was ever the ready apologist of
tyranny — great scholars, who were the pensioucvl flatterers of
power,— and poets who profaned the high gift of genius tc
pamper the vices of a corrupted court.
3. Our history, on the contrary, like that poetical temple of
fame, reared by the imagination of Chancer and decorated by
the taste of Pope, is almost exclusively dedicated to. the
ffieaiory of the truly great. Or, rather, li^ the Pautheou o/
RHETORICAL.
157
no idle ornament encumL L ' ",' ■"°''"'' '"'"'•'' Within,
i-ve„ e„te. from at™ and T'T'^' ^"^ P- "«•■' o^
radiance around. ' ''""'' "" ^l""' •»<! serene
•lid mtrnro°ft;av?a:d 't' T' " "^''"''" "■» -
.»iW for their country. oTft restn !" 7" """ ''"'<• '"-«' «
with the names of the'hkt .L'ZZ T::::T '"'""''=''
And lovers ofl!. ^^'^^ "^^^'^'^d '
- oT'aXt;s:r'CtVh-r""- ^^ - •
c.n fairly be given to the Amerirr„ ^'' «'""" P^is-i "-hch
ai. enhghtened selflshne.a I -f tT' k'? **"' "' P°^"'^''»«f
of this country, wi,h ,„ ' "^^ l.'"' Pl"'o«ophy and talentS
■■"to oblivion, the lo.« ZjiL f :?, T '"""''' """P*
tfcal if to the accuracy of this il f\ ^^ ""™'='™» i ^^
^rankiiu present an iUusLotjH til^bT'"'^'"'■"" "'
ception. ' ' '^ «"" but a solitary ex-
~pT:rdt-':txr:f"„""^"''^ ^"-^ *° '^« -,ue „t
"ion, and freedom, the Warn! " T ""^"''"^- """■'«'■ 'f™'
A-rica. Is it n thh,g Z the uni"' T ""• ^"^ "»' ""*
lave carried into successful „n ? "" *''°"'^ "^ "^"''i-d to
«n., uniting personal Zt °'fe T ' T'"" "' '""'•-^—
»f rights, with national p„lS ZT °/ ""'"'"'^ ""* ^""'"^
«i»'e<i only in ,h„ 01001^ drL K^' ""•* *' '"«' '"''■"e
«»'hioj, in moral scion eohf PWlosophors ? Is i,
■™™„. plans of Sm „ . , '"*;"''*''■ '■" »'«" '«-lity,
•^iet are, bnt nj: ZZT'j''^ "■™-' Jurisprudence:
foimcians and economists'of Euro^er"""" "'"°"'' '"^ ""
16%
THE SIXTH READER.
7. Ib it nothing to have been able to call forth on every
emergency, either in war or in peace, a body of talents alwayn
equal to the diflBculty ? Is it nothing to have, in less than »
half-century, exceedingly improved the sciences of political
economy, of law, and of medicine, with all their auxiliary
branc' a ; to have enriched human knowledge by the aeon-
mulutioa of .1 great mass of useful facts and observations, an
to have augmented the powcf and the comforts of civilized
man, by miracles of mechanical invention ? Is it nothing to
have given the world examples of disinterested patriotism, ot
political wisdom, of public virtue ; of learning, eloquence, and
\alor, never exerted save for some praiseworthy end?
8. Land op Liberty I thy children have no cause to blush
for thee. What though the arts have reared few monunn its
among us, and scarce a trace of the Muse's footstep is found
in the paths of our forests, or along the banks of our rivers ;
yet our soil has been consecrated by the blood of heroes, and by
great and holy deeds of peace. Its wide extent has become
one vast temple and hallowed asylum, sanctified by the prayers
and blessings of the persecuted of every sect, and the wretched
of all nations.
9. Land of Refuge ! Land of Benedictions ! Those prayers
B-ill ariije, and they still are heard : May peace be within thy
walls, and pleUteousness within thy palaces ! May there be no
decay, nor leading into captivity, and no complaining in tliy
streets 1 May truth flourish out of the earth, and ■ righteous
ness look down from heaven I Guuan C. Vebplasck
63. SOGGAP.TH AROON.
[These lines, full of deep tenderness, graphically and touchlngly depict the
.e^erential and affectionato feeling that, through all trials and long gen-
eratidns, has existed in the heart of the Irish peasant for bis Soggartb
Asoon—prUtt dear.]
KflKTORICAL.
M I the slave they say
- Soggartli Aroou,
Sizice you did show the wa,
Soggarth Aroon ?
Their slave no more to be,
While they ^,„d work wth
• Ould Ireland's slavery,
Soggarth Aroon f '
«• Why not her poorest man,
Soggarth Aroon,
Try and do all he can,
Soggarth Aroon,
Her commands to fulfil
or hfs own heart and wiJL
S'de by side with you still.
Soggarth Aroon?
«. Loyal and brave to you,
Soggarth Aroon,
Yet be no slave to you,
Soggarth Aroon-
Nor, out of fear to you.
Stand up so near to you—
Och 1 out of fear to you,
Soggarth Aroon.
^- Who, in the winter's night,
Soggarth Aroon
When the could blast did bite
Soggarth Aroon,
Came to my cabin-door,
And on my earthen flure
Knelt hv T«" -i-i-
J fHc aivK ana poor
Soggarth Ai-oonf '
16tf
mo,
160
THE SIXTH BEADER.
6. Who on the marriage-day,
Soggarth Aroon,
Made the poor cabin gay
Soggarth Aroon ?
And did both laugh and sing,
Making our hearths to ring,
At the poor christening,
Soggarth Aroon?
6. Who as friend only met,
Soggarth Aroon,
Never did flout me yet,
Soggarth Aroon ?
And, when my eye was dim,
Gave while his eye did brim
What I should give to him,
Soggarth Aroon?
t. OchI you, and only you,
Soggarth Aroon,
And for this I was true to yon,
Soggarth Aroon;
In love they'll never shake.
When, for ould Ireland's sake,
We a true part did take^
Soggarth Aroon.
Bamd),
63. SUMMER'S FAREWELL.
WHAT sound is that ? 'Tis Summer's farewell.
In the breath of ihe night-wind sighing ; ^^
^^ The chill breeze comes like a sorrowful dirge ^fjt'C
That wails o'er the dead and dying.
The sapless leaved are eddying round vSl^H-t
On the path which tiiey lately shaded ; '^
Theoj
The
All tha
To thir
2. Yet, wJ
Joys
Again \
Agair
The fore
There
The wooi
As wil
The hivej
Other floi
3. They will,
Whethe
This spirit
To awal
This cheek
When th
The cherisl:
The gras
The earth n
May dwell y
<■ And few y,Q
For the fa
Few would r
And mouri
Afany might
Fleased wi
% folhes an(
A theme foi
Oh I what a c
RHETORICAL.
Tie flowers hZll u "° '*' '^^^'
All that llolrf ''" ""^ ^^d^d-
^°^^'y «o «oon n^ust depart.
^ "^^^^ lii^e the past o e brl^ "" "'" ^-«'
Again will the vin« k """§^'nff J
Tie forest will „„m'°«''°^ =
K-/»fttl,,
'1
Tfcis cheek ^r"'''-''''''^-'^!-™
'UA.
When the S.Z^Cl 7 '*'" '"' }^
The oheriahtaff r„™ » ,""" ''' «'»«"»g;
The graj on m ^^ *"" '"'* «ght
The ea4 :a;r',sT:"'^'°"'-°^ = ^-^ '
'■'"oftizi:rotr^«^"'-«
^ew would re^X" ;'''•'''"'''
And mourn thp .r,^ f°™ "="'<'«
»-y ».ight Up 2 "" '"°'' " ' ^^
A'hemei-rr/'rr""'^'
«" ' what a cha„; ' "t':":''"? •'^'^ ^-^.
IfaT- +1,^- . ^ " '"y spirit's rlpoara-
-V tucre 7e ere the Summ.' .. .1 ^ ^^"^
' ^"'"'"^^'^ ««" next shall
beam f
E. Cook,
162
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
64. ROME UNDEia NERO.
AUGUSTUS is no more ; but still the folds and fringes of
his mantle hang over the marble city. The freshness of
his works of taste and magnificence in everyone of his "four<
^ teen regions" is yet undimmed, though soon to be marred by
!aM>) the flames and the smoke of Nero's conflagration. Rome re-
Aw ^^"^^'^ ^^^^ ^*^® ^°^ beauty in the mellow sunset of her fair-
est day of refinement and elegant letters. The golden age is
not yet all gone. , ij^^rw
2. The enchantment, not yet all dispelled, lingers awhile
around temple and triumphal arch, amphitheatre and colonnade.
While poetry, eloquence, and the fine arts are slowly and not
ungracefully sinking to rest on their own heaped-up trophies,
the altars of Venus, and Hebe, and Bacchus are fain to break
beneath the rich ofierings sent thither by high and low, from
every *' region" of the city, and from the suburbs. i (, ^
3. How every remnant of the urbane manliness of yore is
softening away into Greek sentimentality and Oriental lux-
ttriousness 1 Pleasure, with both her hands, flings perfumes
and roses over the mansions that crown the hills, and among
the suburban and inter-mountain crowds over whom swell up
j^. j^ j^, j^every day unwonted forms and numbers of circuses of great
vastness, and most luxurious baths : all through the day-long
leisure of equestrian youth, a mimicry of Grecian sports stirs
along the once warlike Campus Martins.
4. To sounds of soothing music processions of fancifully
decorated victims pace the solemn way to the almost untroddei
temples. The Roman knight smiles languidly on his train of
white slaves that troop along in pairs, or cluster in groups
k-^u along his usual progress to an imperial bath, or one of his
own delicious villas. The gravity and power of the Senate
have vanished, still the stately retinue is borne homeward with
bolkw pomp.
6. Ever and anon from the gates and walls of the city com«
r
outbursts of boisterous iov • it ■<, tl,„ „™. •
revelries send back th jr „^h . P^^nan g„ard, ,ho8e
tbat palace hni that Jn T """"=' '" "« P"'^"""
the theatres : " a <JL1 „1 J i'"' ''™' '^^''S'" "P »«
a.d he had with sllhcitv H ""'"""' °^ """ ^"'''°' P"^™«..-
piebeia, i„ rhi":' irL^^rh^td ^MirT "V""
.t ouce followed Peter ami f ! "' ™" °' •^™'- "^o
%, brought ar„„:d\t t Z^"XlZ ''"V '''"
verts of the holy Church nf R . believers. Rrst con-
«rn is soon turned into „rief J'' ? *™ *^ '""«'> «'
Wgh or low vouuloroti .. ''^'' ^°'' '''""'"™ "<• d""*
4.hare iiTe i,::;'';:rrir'^?""''-"-^^'™-"^^
yawning along the roads orTn th. « u ""'' '""d-Pi"-'"-
^:t£^"-"~--SZt:tr-
brightness „;.,^-f;:\^:' ^ -V" *e faint,, alteriug^
'ite»-the Litany of Sep„Ichrarrn7 • ° "•* "'"' '''''"'°"''
y 01 otpuichial Inscriptions, commonly ending
Ifl4
THE SIXTH READER.
'' with dread and tears," is already begun— the first dates in
the calendar of the Roman martyrology are already fixed ; and
in Rome, the capital and mistress of the heathen world, the
contest for the dominion of Rome — the empire of the world-
is already fierce and hot,between the foes of God and man, and
the divine Spouse of Christ.
11. Soon shall the engagement spread through the provinces,
and the field of battle become as vast, and the trophies that
ornament the triumph of the victorious party become as nu-
merous, as all the nations and tribes of earth. Manahaw.
65. ACRE.
["The city of Acre was the first seat of the sovereignty of the Knights ol
Malta."}
BEAUTIFUL as it is, in our own day, it was yet more
beautiful when, seven centuries ago, it was the Christian's
capital of the East. Its snow-white palaces sparkled hke
jewels against the dark woods of Carmel, which rose towards
the south. To the east there stretched away the glorious
plain, over which the eye might wander till it lost itself in the
blue outlines of hills on which no Christian eye could gai^*
unmoved ; fov they hid in their bosoms the village of Nazareth
and the waters of Tiberius, and had been trodden all about by
One whose touch had made them holy ground, jti^^
2. That rich and fertile plain, now marshy and deserted,
but then a very labyrinth of fields and vineyards, circled Acre
to the north ; but there the eye was met by a new boundary—
the sunny summits of a lofty mountain range, whose bases
were covered with cedar ; while all along the lonely coast
broke blue waves of that mighty sea whose shores are the
empires of the world. And there lay Acre among her gardens;
the long rows of her niarbie houses, with their flat roofs,
forming terraces odorous with orange-trees, and rich with
flowers of a thousand hues, which silken awnings shaded fr<»c»
the sun. ■i.i*.'^^
^HETORlCiL.
IM
tie Jinights of
8. You might walk from one end of fh. •*
these terraced roofs, and nevel oil' T^ '' '^' ''^'' ^'^
and the streets themselves were I .'"/ '"*" '^' «*^^«t« '
brilliant with the chTZZZl V '"^' ''"'^ «^-P«
t^-.ed With the nohlesreliv^C^^^^ "'' ^-^' 4.^ ^^
4- It was the o-avp«f rroiin * / . Europe. ,^%'\jam^ ?
of those bright waters that ^^7 ?' "^ "'°''' "■" "■'"-'
»uthera sunshine, aad rthTl h H '""*'''' '" *"«'">'' »■
fro. the west, ever/hJl ta r oh -1" *"' '"''■'' '"<"»
thie art, as yet rare In E^T 3 I^ T T'""'" ^'""^ ' f"^
lavishly employed in Acre ard IT ? "' ^^ ^" ™'-« "' •-
'k^ce by the Crusaders. E^ervnltrr'^ '• "' '""S"' '""-
iW by its own merchants and foH '"* "' '"■^'"' '"^'^^
crowned heads kept npt'tbiu he !' """ "" '^'^ "■" "'-tJ
courts. "^ °P w.th.u the c.ty walls their palaces and
each their residence he™ Tltue thrTe' 'T '"™""'"'' '-<•
t««ic Order had estabIishm;nT« as w,l !?',;" """ ""= f^"'
»" a scarcely less s„.pt„™ lal ""^ ''"'P'''*""^' »""
56. THE MAHTTBS OP FATHEELAK.
^OE^woe to tyrants I Who are they?
W.O. a?;- r^^ba-r :;-?--'
er ocean, ,sle, and continent ? f ''"'^^ ---w^
^1 Id beasts they are, ravening for ave • ^ u
J: sTh'^.' r'^ *^^ world'theirT:;. ^^^^
Pest ambushed in the noontide day ' vU>.A^
^ «tars of ruin and dismay. Z ' '^^
We e„.d ,hem con.ing from afa^^^
Heard, and rushed into the war •
vve ^nssed our fathers' graves
And rdshed to meet our Count'ry'« foe.
166
THE SIXTH READER.
%, I trembled when the strife begCTi —
Woman (was I), my clapp'd hands trembled
With ill-timed weakness ;11 dissembled ;
But now beyond the strength of man,
lly strength has iu a moment grown,
Arid 1 no more mj griefs deplore
Than doth a shape of stone,
knt\ doBt thou (tyrant) make ii/y boast ihea, of their
lying
All cold upon tho mountain and the plaiMj
My mma whom thou hast slain?
And tibat no tears nor sighing
Can raise 'd'xilv >)< ads agaiv: ?
t. My «on» not va;.,v . have died,
For ye yom- con.! ay glorifled 1
Eaeh momi^nt u^ hi death ye bowed, p
On high your martyred souls ascended j J tk^ ^^n^.
Yea, »ofiring in perpetual cloud,
Tbi» tjarth with heaven ye blended. W^mv-c-
A living chain in death ye wove ;
And/ rising, raised our world more near those worlds
above 1
4. TJ«ey perish idly ? they in vain ?
When not a sparrow to the plain
Drops tincared for 1 Tyrant I they
Are radiant with eternal day 1
And if, unseen, on us they turn
Thorn looks that make us inly burn,
And swifter through our pulses flow
The boandiug blood, their blood below 1
|.U.^Vv|
b» How little cause have those for fear
Whose outward forms alone are here !
How nigh are they to heaven, who thero
Hare stored their e .' . 'ist, teuderest carol
Whi
This
Our
Its !^
O'er
Are i
Upon
TTTHE
' " it
^3EN
' poj
bilitfes of t
tives press
pects invite
demand our
W'orld has a
Ijeg-inning a
cause of Lib
2. Greece I
nurse of arn
chanted the p
she? Fortw
to the earth.
W temples ai
fragments of 1
i'eautiful in ru
3. She fell I
Innited at The:
triumph r lied
I «d by hei owr
people. Them
]'''»>• It was i
r^nts, and dis
|f»gles glanced
BHETOBICAL.
Whate'er
Thig
was ours of
-gony hath
erring pride,
... sanctified.
Our .e^ed flower thy blasts but tear
^ er . . the storm hath passed, and we
Ale standing here immovably
Upon the platform of the Right
167
I>B VaaM.
«7. THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC
P^cta invite our e„tl,„^a3m ^m!', , ^'" ''"■"'^°' P™-
demand our vigilance and^oderL: " ™"""^'' "' "»'=<'
World ha, already reveal Jt,? •°"- """''''''"°'' ' ''''» <>"
keginm-ny and tie end of aH n 'a!" ! ' """"""'^ '"'*». ">e
«8e of Liberty. marvellous straggles in the
a. Greece I lovely Greece I "the h„d „f i ,
•urse of arms," where »i.t„- '"''»"<' of scholars and tho
*"ted the priise of be fand t, "•;'" '"'^ P"--™"-
"=! For two thousand yeTrstt ' ' "'"" ""^ """' ''
""'h-arth. Her arts ar:l^:~™J-»^''o™d her
*« temples are but the barrlr r' °" "'"' '"'^ »'
".8«nts of her columns :d he p" laV""""' ""'"^ ' ''^
l«>Blifal in ruins. '"'''"='' *'« >" ^e dost, yet
;'7Pt;. Ued bac'^upon he He rpoU''"'.:'' '"" "' "^ ^'--
"i by he, own faotions-she knlT . * """ """l"""^ '
-\-e.anofMaJll-;-':b:~ •
Iffifinti
ilia
r»gles glanced in the
already done by he
<^is8en8ions. Rome I
T OWP ni\y^,.~^
re
ipt-ions, bauish-
'Pablican Rome I wt
lose
"''"* and setting sun,-where and
168
THE SIXTH liEADER.
what is she ? The Eternal CUy yet remains, prond even in
her desolation, noble in her decline, venerable in the majesty
of religion, and calm as' in the composure of death.
4. The malaria has but travelled in the parts won by the
destroyers. More than eighteen centuries have mourned over
tho loss of the empire. A mortal disease was upon her before
(J<esar had crossed the Rubicon ; and Brutus did not restore
her health by the deep probings of the senate-chamber. The
Goths, and Vandals, and Huns, the swarms of the North, com.
pleted only what was begun at home. Romans betrayed
Rome. The legions were bought and sold, but the people
offered the tribute-money.
5; And where are the republics of modern times, which
cluster around immortal Italy? Venice and Genoa exis* but
in name. The Alps, indeed, look down upon the brave and
peaceful Swiss, in their native fastnesses ; but the guarantee
of their freedom is in their weakness, and not in tlieir strength.
The mountains are not easily crossed, and the valleys are not
easily retained.
6. When the invader comes, he moves like an avalanche,
carrying destruction in his path. The peasantry sink before
him. The country, too, is too poor for plunder, and too rough
for a valuable conquest. Nature presents her eternal barrier
on every side, to check the wantonness of ambition. And
Switzerland remains with her simple institutions, a military
road to climates scarcely worth a permanent possession, and
protected by the jealousy of her neighbors.
1. We stand the latest, and if we fall, probably the last
experiment of self-government by the people. We have be-
gun it under circumstances of the most auspicious nature,
We are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has never been
checked by the oppression of tyranny. Our Constitutions
never have been enfeebled by the vice or the luxuries of tiie
world. Such as we are, we have been from the beginning i
simple, hardy, intelligent, accustomed to self-gOTernmciit and
Bclf-respect.
RHETORICAL.
169
i.li.u<lc, wo hav 'cl, r^ 'l.,.„„.h „a,„ dojfrec, „f
.noa„8 „f independence T ^"^ ''""^"''^' "'"• "'""y
-™. Ke,j::t"::. K:„ir;~r'"- '^°"^7
every homo. What fairer prosDoc'^« nf ' "^^'^ '"""'^
and warmed the sunnv nlo.-nc f r. " ^"« "r(--t)lood of Europe,
Holland, It ha;:x T p" L^r: iTV"" """"^^ of
Norfh nn^ rv, • pnuosopiiy of Germany and thp
a«eeothe,e..„„„M.:;L;tdJ'" '°'""' "" ""^"^^ '»
-"■•-t.e .-nscwp:,-:';::":: :f: ,rr.c^ °'
upon you, fathers, by the 8hid,><= <^p
ancestors, by the dear a,hes whieh rep„ „ ifth,? '"'"
«', by all you are, and all you h„„e to ■ "^ °"'
project of disunion ; resist ev-erv !,/ . ^ """'* """'y
climb .our knees or ^oa """"'• '° '''"'' "'™' "^ *'')'
liberty Swear l.; t,"" aT'' '"'""'' *'" "'"'^""'S^ "'
vows, to be true o the ' "' '""' '''"' ''"P">'««'1
call upon y'u °1 ° T T"""'^' ""' "''™' ''"■™''= >"»■■ I
wi.« 'inh:°^;,C;:u ;i I'^rr" """^ ^""^ ^°" ^—
«'l.ich brings notlUn^ iZ , "'" °"™'' '"= '"" "^l"'*'
»everco™es^„o°"?ir .'-.*"■"" ","' "''P™^'^""- »-"'
of our country. "^-'"^^'fJ-, »■ Jetenco of tho liberties
Judge Stokt.
8
170
THE SIXTH READER,
%
58. DON'T T^'^POET.
OLD LETTERS I Don't you • Bometirncs, t.) look ovoi
old letters ? Some ot' tln.;in are dim witli years, and some
j'^.are dim with tears. Ilc-o is one now, the burden of wiiich is,
"Don't forget ;" the device on the seal is "Don't forget;" and
the writer thereof went, winters ago, to " the narrow beds of
peace." But surely she needn't have wviUetA u, .oc we mnH
forget if we would.
2. "Don't forgot 1" They arc common words ; we hear thorn,
perhaps use tbera everyday; and yet how needless, wc may
almost say, ho^c meaningless they are 1 What is it we forj^et?
That which wits fm'gotten and set down in the tablets of
memory Icn^- ago ; set down, we may not remember whore, we
may not remember when, but it is there still. Remove with
the palm of Time the inscriptions upon marble — eat out with
its "corroding tooth" the lettering upon brass, but that tiling
forgotten remains unobliterated.
3. Some breath may wlihl back the leaves of memory to its
page — in Rome hour on epitome of its contents may be uiirdllcd
before us. Every thought consigned to memory is immortal;
^its existence runs parallel with the mind that conceives and
the heart that cradled it. " Don't forgot 1" We cannot fugot.
Earth is full of strains Lethean rf man's invention, but the
past is with him still.
4. New days, new hop' new ^ ves ar ; but "pleasant,
yet mournful to the soul is tiie memory of joys that are past."
Our eyes are dazzled with the clear of the present, but di mined
with the e.louds of the past, iiide as we w'l on the s.. iftest
billow of to-morrow, we are never out of sigtit of yesterday.
There it stands still, with a tearful, gentle li(r^ '., like somo pale
Pleiad through the rack of the dtorm. ■ '
5. " Don't forget 1" Ah! the scien^ .\a
to forget wouM be more welcome tJ n au
Mner^i'.nics. When the heart beats eadder, and the tide of
lite runs slower, how the Yesterdays come drifting down to
luld teach men
the trickery of
["There has seldi
KHETORICAL.
L^^rl
waiting Ago-waitini? for TTir. i /»-^*,V'l
bidclon and unstaj^cd. ' '"^'"'^ ^"^J' ^-d hovel, un-
6 "n<»n't forc-et I" ai i
Ocean itself. U..y as it i^lr i^^^JT "'?* ^-"^"'l^- ? Even
"^ ^';" P-t. is the ,reat .«:„ ^"^ r,' : «";- ^» -cords
ei.ce'8 dream was no fiction a„d I . "'' '^'^'''*^- ^lar- .
whiten, and sway amid tf.o ,roZollJ'''"T\^''''''' '^^ ^S
Sea is not oblivious, for " th^ sel Ilnl '"''''' ^"' ^^^'" t^«
t'io sea shall g,ve up its dead."
1
W. THE PENITENT'S PRAYER
["There has Beldom I .«„ „nv f>.!
oontablng ,„oro of the true poet. oTn7"'° ""'^ ^^'^^'^''^'y tender or
MOTHER benign,
-■■ L >'k down on me f
>•■ gnef like thine;
Thou who -lost see,
In his death , ^ony,'
Thy ,L»n divine.
In faith unto the Putner
Dost thou lift up thine eyes.
In faith unto the Father
Dost pray with maLy sighs.
Tboswordispiercingthineownsoulandthon- •
pray "'» ana thou m pain dost
^ ''t the pangs which torture Him ami .u ^^'1*^
pass a vay. '^""' ^"'^ ^^c thy pangs, Jna/
And who my wound can heal.
And wh/» fu« _ • '
asunder brain and bone t
)- UH
>. <M
78 THE SIXTH HEADER.
How my poor heart, within mo aching, A^-\'^>-^^^
Tromblc'B and yoarns, ami is forsakoa— *V^,.,
Thou knowi'sf it~th()U aloiie 1 Mnv^A^ ■^>
Whcro can I go? whci can I go?
Everywhoro woo ! wdo ! woe 1 r '
Nothing that does not my own grief betoken !
And, when I am ah)nc,
I moan, and moan, and moan,
And am lie art-broken I
Tlie flowers upon my window-sill, '}t^\
Wet with my tears since dawn they be ;
All else were sleeping, while I was weeping,
Praying and choosing flowers for theo.
Into my chamber brightly
Came the early sun's good-morrow I
On my motluu-'s bed, unsightly,
1 sate up in my sorrow.
Oh, in this hour of death, and the near grave,
Look on me, then, and save 1
Look on me with that countenance benign.
Never was grief like thine —
Look down, look down on mine I OoistHK.
60. THE CHURCH-BELL.
OF all musical instruments, it is by far the grandest,
solemn or deep, or shrill and clear; or, still better, with
both combined in a choral peal, it is the only instrumeut
whose music can travel on the winds, can heave m nobe
«wPllrt noon the breeze, and can out-bellow the storm. It
alone speaks to heaven as to earth, and scatters abroad ita
KHETORICAL.
178
"'.-„, like tl,e »howe.o,. .,;'"' "',"■ '■'""*' " "'" ft™""*^
•I- l.ii,'l.t.r .egi.u.sl 1°, ''" -'"•""'I'-'ovor come, f,-,„„
call „„. f,„r „ iJ^ "' "'7 .'*'•"'• '"'J-d, it «eo,„»
"o"w occp,, t„ 1 ' .:i:::;,;: - '--n:y „..„„,.,
.elves with cartl Lton T'l ' ""*-'"'"" '" ""'" "--
vocal in,t..uL„t bolo to 'r"',', 7"'"'''' ' "^"^ °"'«
but tho solemn oI,l hell !,„„ . i ' '^"'"^ ""nuscmcnts ;
purpose, a„„ as wL t," fald f "■'" ''"^■"' '"^ ""^ «-"
from the temple of G,"rf h ^ ^ n™' "-■'''"'""^' "' ""P"l>«>^
ib<-, a„<. „': tZJtoX / "°"""*'' ""' ^--^ •
^v^v-;^.
CABDWil. WlMMill.
f>
61. THE BIEB THAT CONQtJEBED
J^AXD whicl, the Norman wo„ld make hi, own I
While r'""^, " "'"■'' '""'' " '>™' »-«'-*™wn
Wh.. ^the. „h,e cheeks some on the CenchM hand ,
T::.f:: -r'-": '"-''''' -»- '-« o-™--' > '^'^ '
^ o are men ,n thee that relnse to die,
And that scorn to live while a foe stands by
174
THE SIXTH READER.
2. O'Donnell lay sick with a grievous wound ;
i^-ttUvA-ftVA, ; The leech had left him ; the priest had come ;
The clan sat weeping upon the ground,
Their banners furl'd and their minstrels dumb.
8. Then spoke O'Donnell, the king : • "Although
My hour draws nigh, and my dolors grow;
And although my sins I have now confess'd,
And desire in the land ray charge to rest,
Yet leave this realm, nor will I, nor can,
While a stranger treads on her, child or man.
4 "I will languish no longer a sick man here:
My bed is grievous ; build up my Bier.
The white robe a king wears over me throw;
Bear me forth to the field where he camps — your foe,
With the yellow torches and dirges low, rl^t.
The heralds his challenge have brought and fled :
The answer they bore not I bear instead.
My people shall fight my paai in sight,
And I shall sleep well when their wrongs stand right."
5. Then the clan to the words of their Chief gave ear,
And they fell'd great oak-trees and built a bier ;
Its plumes from he eagle's wing were shed,
And the wine-black samilTe above it they spread,
Inwoven with sad emblems and texts divine,
And the braided bud of TjTConnell's pine,
And all that is meet for the great and brave
Ti n past are the measured years God gave,
And a voice cries "Come," from the waiting grave.
6. When the bier was ready, they laid him thereon
And the army forth bare himj^with wail and moan ;
With wail by the sea-lakus and rock abysses ;
With moan tliroiigh the vapor-trailed wildernesses ;
RHETORICAL.
And men sore wounded themselves drew nigh
And sa.d.«We will ^0 with our king and d1e>
And women wept as the pomp pass'H by. '
The sad, yelbw torches far off were seen •
But the black pmes echc'd the mourners' keen!
They sue for pity, they shall not win » i, ;.
But the sick king sat on the bier upright, '^"^
Andsa.,,. So well! I shall sleep Light:
Rest here, my couch, and my peace beg!n.»
8. Then the war-cry sounded-" BataiUah Aboo !"
And the whole clan rush'd to the battle-plain •
Tharr T- 'r'' '■^^^' '^"^ '^^y ^--'d anew
That an.end m,ght come to their king's great TJn
Twas a people, not army, that onward^rush'd '
Tii; evening theii^^/^rf^^n^^^^^
But a shout swell'd up o'er the setting sun .^;
And O'Donnell died, for the field was won
? So they buried their king upon Aileach's .hore •
And m peace he slept-O'Donnell More. *
175
63. ST. BERNARD.
mnyca, in the most briulnt a d '?. 7"" ^'"^ *° ^^^^'^^^ ^"^ ^e h<«
'« m the monastic stlt no from ^ " T '"^ '"^^ "^^^^P^^^ -^nd pre-
» tl-ir kind, nor through a d"!!;It for J m '"'■^^''' °°'' '"' "'« ^^^'^
»f the fltate itseltj ^ °' ""' *™""<^« «f "fe, but from alova
A ^^ acknowledge Saint Bernirri tr. i,
^ men «f ^enint i. ^^ernard to be a great man and a
^ S^^'^^us ; he exercised -jver ».- ao-P «« ; «
' "'^ '^'gre an influence
im
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
that has no parallel in history ; he refgnod by eloquence,
courago, and virtue. More than once he decided the futmc!
of nations and of crowns. At one time he held, as it were,
in his hands the destiny of the Church. He knew how to
move Eur3pe, and precipitate it upon the East ; he completely
vanquished Abelard, the precursor of modern Rationalism.
All the world knows it, and all the world says it ; all, with
one voice, place him ^y the side of Xiraenes, Richelieu, and
Bossuet.
2. But this is not sufficient. If he wag, and who can
doubt it? a great orator, a great writer, and a great person,
it was almost without his knowing it, and always in opposi-
tion to his own wish. He was, and above all wished to bo,
something else ; he was a monk and he was a saint ; he lived
in a cloister and he worked miracles.
3. The Church has defined and canonized the sanctity of
Bernard ; history is charged with the mission of relating his
life, and of explaining the wonderful influence he exercised
over his contemporaries.
4. But in studying the life and epoch of this great man,
who was a monk, we find that the Popes, Bishops, and Saints,
who were the bulwark and honor of Christian society, all, or
almost all, like Bernard, came from the monastic orders. Who
then were these monks, and whence did they come, and wiiat
had they done, up to this period, to make them occupy so
high a place in the destiny of the world ?
5. These questions we nmst solve before going farther.
' And we must do more ; for in trying to judge of the ajre
in which Saint Bernard lived, we find that it is impossi-
ble to explain or comprehend it, if we do not recognize that
it was animated by the same breath which vivified an an-
terior epoch, of which it is only the direct and faithful con-
tiu«ation.
6. If the twelfth century bowed before the genius and
virtue of Saint Bernard it was because the eleventh ceiitury
bad been regenerated and penetrated with the virtue and
HHETOBICAI,.
177
gemm of another ,„„„k, g,.„„„„ „.,
comprehend either (he epoch ,1 ,1 t' "*-' ™'''<' "»'
apart from the salutary eds wh t.f " "' ''°"""'^' "''-'"
rendered possible for the 1! '" ""^ '""' '"■'-■P''«d ""<i
'"»-* have been heard and .boyJi'a^Z'""" /""" " '"""'<>
contested greatness had not l! '''' ™'' '^ '"'« °"-
«-■ tHais, and the XZ'ZZT'' f "» «'-="«'-.
"en fro. the raniL oU^l^.f^T:' '"^ ^"•'^^■''
review the entire period „l„" \ ™ ''^ ^""''"'S m
«a-gory With the CI "^r,T'', ""^ '»«' --"ats of
tl-i" i" view, describe t " mo, ' ""''■ "''"'' '''=<'?">?
«'™.jgle i„ which the Ch"c "r''^"' "'"^ ""«' «'<>*»»
«"ly their offsprings, in con, „on w tl, so ^ .T™'' ^'''
their contemporaries. When Z' """"y tl'ousands ef
f.™.sapartf„ them thle,". tut ^'T',™" ""* ™ ™"-
(ire centuries. "'sftutions had existed more than
S. To understand their orijin and tn „
hire and services we „,„„ , , "PProciale their ,ia-
Saint Gregory ZlZCi:',::^'" ™f er Gregory-to
O'.the tiara,, or bacic sti I fartt- to^"": f "' =™'
leg«lator and patriarch of th„ „ , "' ^"'"^'^^ the
"-' at least cast a g,,° e l"™ .j" '"" '''™'- «'^
;P"" the superhuman e« s lad "bv t e'", '^ """"■•''•
'» -.Uue, pacify, discipline, nd '^f 'T 'T\"'' """"'»
mtirus, and succes»ively transf!! '^ "^ barbarous
lioi«. '^ t«ansforra them into Christian „a
178
THE SIXTH RKAUEB,
63 FOR THE WINGS OF THE WIND TO WANDER!
[Tho following breathings of the heart are full of poetical beauty, nnd
testify that if the autlior turnc-' his attention as asf^iduously to ^^he Court ol
tho Muses as to the civil courts of tlie land, he would stand lus higli as a \mM
as he now stands at the bar as an eloquent and profound lawyer.]
OFGR the wings of the wind to wander
Farther than the sun in the zenith shines,
Over the peaks of the paradise yonder,
Eicher in gems than a million mines !
Up where the maidenly moon is beaming,
The face of a snow-white angel seeming,
Or queen of the sinless angels dreaming,—
Love by the light of her starry shrines.
2. for the speed of a spirit's pinions.
Soaring like thought from a burning braia }
Soai-ing from sorrow in sin's dominions, .
Realms where the pitiless passions reign I
0, but to flee from the fiend that chases
Hope to the home of the charnel places^^
Lurid with lights of the faded faces, ;■.■■-
Beauty that never shall bloom again.
»
8. Why should I shiver beside the dim river
Which the feet of Christ have coasted before?
For the angel of death alone can deliver
Grief-laden souls that are yearning to soar.
for tho faith all my darkness to brighten ;
for tlie faith all the demons to frighten ;
for the love that all terror can lighten—
M<*ry, sweet Mother, I ask for no more !
RHETORICAL.
■•Lc
'\j--'
i'.«-«^.i_
W. A MAN OVERBOARD
.roan, a. i/i.e/si^..^:^. ':[; .": "-,r."'r'''^-i^ '^
..oft, the captain is forward shouti, t L ^ t "• 1 1^ "" ""
trees, and I an, clinffing to one of tl,„ .. , ■= ""'^
2. The ship is I^tinrrady r:,t'°°^'''^"«'^"-*
"P, sometimes as high as the varH ! 7, '' ™i2PP""S.
with a whirl under'onrkeMhtr: "'"''" *''P'"*«''yK'''
vessel quiver. The i^Jt 'tT.'^'Z'y p'^' '" th«L,
»»" ; and, at the moment thl !t * ,1 ""'°'"'"'* •=""■
fire, that glaresCrire C Jf «,! '"' ^ ^'"'"» °' !
tl.c wet deck and the soars liL ""'■ ""'' S^''^'^''^ °"
CM see the men's faees Tuirl'^ ?« "^ "" =° P'™. 'h-t I
•he reefers on the y! dim" n' '';■,''"''"•"'' *f'''"'P-^ »'
1-nil.le darkness. ^" ' "''"^'"^ '*<= <''=a* i 'hen all is
' 3- The spray spits anffrily ao-aii.ct .t
crash against the weather-bow 7^ ■ """"" '' *' ""^^
tf-ough the rigging o s a .1 , T"""""'" ' ''"^ ""'<" '>""'-,
i.« to leeward:Ll£ ike the .1 T" "'"^' "'" «""' ''»">- . J
captain in the lulls s ,tam 1 "t / '"™'°'- ' '«'" thJ^-^M
the rigging, screa,ni'„: .fen o^vrn,::;fr ,"'. '"^ """^
-dtho thunder, dead";„i„g Cv le 'as if 'f "'"* "-"'"'
ing sparrows. ™ "'' '^ ""ey were chirp.
hi» .^«,'";:^:S Ir ^ '-" "I- the yaM-arm lose
blackness comes, and the till • , ''" '"^ """■° *l-e
' Jcafens me. 1 t ,i„k I 'a, , f "'■ '""' " »''»* ">»' half
»»ay in the distancf , nTa h "Z^ ^ "-."r''-^' ^i.e
«es in an ins.ant, l' see up „, t ^ ''*'';"';* "■'"■"'■
«l"»gs,de, the poor reefer who has fai;.; Tte ,i.h T™
i|..iii hia face. ■^'elighiiiing glares
•»«->.
Iftt
" ' ^"^ ^ S'^e it «lippi„g off tho
ccuf »|K>n tU deck. Isliout
180
THE SIXTH BEADfiS.
madly, " Man overboard !" and catch the rope, when I can soo
notU'mg again. The sea is too high, and the man too heavy
for 010, I »hout, and shout, and shout, and feel the perspira-
tion starting in great bead^ from my forehead, as the line sh'ps
through my fingers.
6, l*rc»ently the captain feels his way aft, and takes hold
whti ma } and the cook comes, as the coil is nearly spent, ;uid
*fe poll together upon him. It is desperate work for tlio
»ai'or } for the ship is drifting at a prodigious rate ; but ho
elitism like a dying man.
t, By-and-by, at a flash, we see him on a crest, two oars'
3c*»*gtb away from the vessel. " Hold on, my man I" shouts
th^ captajJi, " For God's sake, be quick 1" says the poor fol-
low J and he goes down in a trough of the sea. We pull the
hat'dor, and the captain keeps calling to him to keep up cour-
age, and hold strong. But, in the hush, we can hear him say,
*' I can*t hold out much longer ; I'm most gone 1"
8# Ftemntly we have brought the man where we can lay
hold of him, and are only waiting for a good lift of the sea to
britjg him up, when the poor fellow groans out, " It's no use ; I
can't, 0«>od'by I" And a wave tosse^ the end of the rope clean
upon the bulwarks. At the last flash, I see him going down
under tlie water. Mitchixl.
65. THE FOUNT OP SONG.
WHEKE flows the fount whose living streams
Are heard in every clime —
Wbo»c voice hath mingled with the dreams
Of far-departed time ?
I§ it where Grecian fanes lie hid
Among the olives dim,
Or the Nile beside the pyramid,
Sendtj up its ceaselesa hymn?
RHETORICAL.
9. Alas I by old Castilian wave
• The muses meet no more
Nor breaks from Delphi's mystic cave
The prophet voice of yore : -W^l^
Old Egypt's river hath forgot ^
The Theban glory gone •
And the land of Homer knows him not-
Yet still that fount flows on I
8. The sacred fount of song, whose source
Is in the poet's soul,
Though living laurels crown its courw
All-jrlnrmna +^ -n,- „ i ^ ,
181
;l<-l t^V^\^A—
All-glorious to the goal ;
yet who can tell xohat desert part
Its earliest springing nursed f
As from the glacier's icy heart
The mightiest rivers burst I
• ^'''^^^<^e the wind that woke the lyre
Was hut a blighting blast . J-^
That sear'd with more than tempest's' '«^ J.^ .,
The verdure where it passed. '^^^ "
Perchance the fire that seemed divine
On ruined altars shone,
Or glowed like that Athenian shrine,
J^or deity unknown.
6. It 18 not Fame, with all her spells
Could wake the spirit's springs, '
Ur call the music forth that dwells
Annd its hidden strings ;
For evermore, through sun and cloud.
10 the first fountain true
It flows-but oh ? ye soulless crowd.
It never sprang for you I
el
iTft-'Wl.' ,4_
ft*
Ji'
'Uy
tea
THE SIXTH READER*
6. The wild-bird sings in forest far,
Wliere foot may never be ;
The eagle meets the morning star,
Where none his path may see.
So many a gifted heart hath kept
Its treasures unrevealed,—
A spring whose depth in silence slept,
A fount forever sealed 1
I, Woe for the silent oracles
That went with all their lore !
For the world's early wasted wells,
Whose waters flow no more I
Yet one remains no winter's wrath
Can bind, or summer dry ;
For, like our own, its onward path
Is to eternity.
Miss Jrowv.
J>\^
W-
66. MONASTERIES.
[At extract from "Institutions, Manners, and Customs of the Middle Age,"
by Dr Hiirter, of Switzerland, one of tlic most profound, comprehensive
minds, and erudite scholars of tlie day.]
ON the ancestral grave — on the spot where a nobleman had
selected the place of rest for his family — on the founda-
tion of the modest church out of the wooden cell of the hermit
— there, where the waves had given back to the afflictet
father the child they had snatched away, arose the structur
wherein daily were to ascend canticles of praise to the Eternal,
and thanksgiving for redemption, or, which even sometimes
were to expiate the murders and crimes of a former robber's
cave, or convert the accursed place of execution into an abode
of blessings.
to put iu force such pious reaolutions ; uay, vanity might often
RHETORICAL.
1S3
be tompM to p„rcl,ase, l,v s„cl, ,l„„. r
'-•'J-- Vet ,|,e „,„,e pi. „s .e„ 'T' '" f™"" "' P*
•I"*, '-"m the w,«h ;■ „J° ' P"™""'l™™» of all ou,-.i„v
""■day a l.m,d,.od-f„ld ,.ew.",,r ""'■'•'■ "'«' "'""""•"S
One who had l,,!, ,L d ftl " ''' '"''™''™ ''" I"""™.
»tt™t by surf, foundatk s1, 1 r?™' """«"■• ^''-S'" '°
m»..ncr the „„«t acceptalde '^ "' '° ""^ ^""«l"y i" a
™ of 1,0,. etc,. :, t,: r:;:,"?; "r "■"'""'•""• «« «• '
-.ffl,,, by n,ea„s„f ,„„,;; .,'"•• "•"■''"i and tl,o ba™
•«■;";;;; '"e .boino,,, sp,- •:':;";■::::::,:" '"'""' *» ^"^°-
»;f ;'y a .ac,,„ee of -lIX^ ^'r^l^'-''^ "> "'« A,.
aWed to inter their bodies. "'"^ ^"'i <■"-
UJI>-JJ) ' HDIlTEa.
67. CHAEITr.
(TIic following ]B an p^....,., .
I [)UT the age of Chivalry is ^one All h •
f^ -ties, systenus, habils-woar c^t I tf""ff«-kn,g-do,ns,
, Edmund Burke in thtt rmhl "^ P"'"'^''^' ^o wrote
^f^-wnhi,,::::t:.^-:f;^^^^^^
,:"- franco, degraded into mfionalisJ I.:;'^''f ' *^' "''"'*
; -- .o.an^HaHe Antoine:"^^:r : -r S
184
THE SIXTH UK \T>ER.
will never be able to cleanso from its oHcutclioou the Mti.in
of tliat murdeied lady's blood, "Tho ago of chivuli-y in
gonc> ; that of sopijistcrs, economists, and calculators has suc-
ceeded." Progress, the Juggernaut of our idolatry, criishea!
under its remorseless wheels many a harmless superstition, a'
kindly tradition, and gracious habit of tho past.
2. Woman asks not loyalty now-a-days. The dignified snl)
mission, the tender regard for her sex and weakness, the liuin
age of the heart with which every man, not wholly debas(;tl,
delights to regard hev, she slights atul repudiates, and de-
mands instead liberty and equality. Be it so. The world
does move. War acknowledges now no truce of God, no holy.
days ; and, by a '[ueer coincidence, many of the blooiliust
battles of modern » imes have been fought on Sunday. Tliers
is small immunity for .vine-dresser or olive-growor now, and
we can fancy what short vork a foraging party would rnako
of the shepherd and his flock. cI.-JIl
3. Our improved projectiles spare neither shrine nor spire;
and modern reason .vvuld laugh at the superstition wliich
would spare a foo If, oawse he had sought asylum by the altar
or the cross. Th.o woild has moved. Eelieved of ancient
restraint, war has ioyumed all its pagan ferocity, with the
additional improvements in the machinery for killing which
modern inventiveness has devised. A more complete disre-
gard of the immemorial rights of war, of courtesy, of chivalry,
of Christianity — a harder insensibility to the waste of human
life have never been shown than by the armies of the civilized
nations within the last twenty years.
4. Witness the sack of Kertch, an imfortified, ungarrisoned
ity, in the Crimean war ; the " loot" in China ; the devilish
vengeance wreaked on the Sepoys, blown into atoms from tlio
cannon's mouth ; the wholesale devastation of Poland ; the
atrocities inflicted on Crete to-day — these are some of the
instances of superior civilization of which our nineteenth cen-
tury—our golden age of knowledge and enlightenment— ex-
Libits to an admiring w(»rld. Cromwell, tho merciless hero o/
RHRTORIOAL.
18ft
gA^Jx *« *A.
he PuMton,, has fo,„„l „„ „„,„„;„,. p,.,,,,,.^,^
as a Carlylc. ,„ „«,„„„„,„, |,i„, ^vi.c, „,,,,„ f„|| :„„,,;;
done to Alano, „,„: Auib L-o ..ec,.,.,„V.,l a, .1,0 p^ r»to
and benefactor »f inaukinil F piejncatot
*alm„ wttl, all disasters not their own, ami lull themselveg
to "-a r ""N'"" ''" ""■'-■"""» «-' "-h^tov:: ::.
i™ a tea, lest «Hcl, s„fler,i,g should be the „.„„lt of error
..;:i.:;L.:::;;,Tr''''- ^-^^-.-Mfarfro™ ■
f!t"'."Lf PaT,'™tr "'' '^"'^'•*"<' "-"«-' -■"■!'"-
To - d '' ifs ::;.:" "'™t '-^ p"^""""^"""- -^
whora ron„d > ,e e 'st al 1,,', °",'' 'T'", " "" ^'""'""''
^hi. , , 7 father," aiil we are his children
wh to „,e„ Uack mo„ rod ,„e„-they that dwell in the Tla c'
HIS nic.ey and i.,rs,vo„es,. With us Charity is not a maitor
i~s„n or calculation, or sentiment, but of dn y a"d e^
¥on ; and to our charity no barrier can be kno^^ Tr cln
rf Jr '■'' " '° " P'"'^'' '" ""^ «"='" brotherhood
O'GOHMAW.
''Uil-
68. THE PERI'S SONQ.
ANE morn a Peri at the -ate
^^ Of Edeu stood disconsolate ;
And as she listened to the springs
Of life within, like music flovvino-
And
aug-lifc the light upon her
Through the half-
wi
open portal glowing,
nga
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J ''6 THE SIXTH READER.
She wept to tl)ink her recreant race
Had ever lost ^o briglit a place.
i. " How happy !" exclaimed this child of air,
"Are the holy spirits who wander there,
Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall !
Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea,
And the stars themselves have flowers for me,
One blossom of heaven outblooms them all.
3. "Though sunny the lake of cool Chasmere,
With its plane-tree isle reflected clear,
And sweetly ihe founts of that valley fall ;
Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-Haj',
And the golden floods that thitherward stray :
Yet oh I 'tis only the blest can say,
How the waters of heaven outshine them all I
4. "Go, wing thy flight from star to star,
From world to luminous world, as far
As the universe spreads its flanung wall :
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, —
And multiply each through endless years, —
One minute of heaven is worth them all."
MOOBE.
] 69. FLOATING ISLANDS.
[Every one has read of the singular device of " Floating Islands" of tli
Chinese, to which the necessities of an overcrowded population have driven
this ingenious and industrious race. The Abbo Hue, in his interesting work,
" The Cliinese Empire," encountered a number of tliesc curious structures in
the course of his wonderful missionary duties in the Celestial Empire.]
■\"17E passed several floating islands, those curious pro-
* * ductions of Chinese ingenuity which no other people
Beem to have thought of. These islands are enormous rafts,
BHETORICAL,
187
generally constructed of ban.booH, which resist the decon,.
po.ng .n luence of the v^ater for a long time. Upon the raft is
a,d a tol.rably th.ck bed of ve-^otuble soil ; and, thanks to
he pauent labors of a f.. families of aquatic a<n.iculturists,
the astonished traveller beholds a whole colony lying on the
..r^ce of the water,-pretty houses with their gardens, nl
we as fields and plantations of every sort. The inhabitants
ot these farms appear to enjoy peace and abundance.
2. Dunng the leisure time which is not occupied by the cul-
ture of then- nce-fields, they employ themselves in fishing
wh,ch,s at the same tin,e a pastime and a source of profif: -'
and often alter gathering a crop of grain from the surL;e of
he lake, they cast their nets and bring up a harvest of fish
•om.ts depths; for these waters teem with creat,n-es fit for>...
tl;o use of man. Many birds, particularly swallows and
pigeons, Inuld tbeir nests in these floating isles, and enliven
llicpeacoliil and poetic solitude.
3. To,vv.rds tl,„ middle of the lake one of tl.ese islumh „„
^ .. ay took „p a fresh posilic. It ,„ovod very slowly
Ujh there was a good deal of wind, a.ul large sails wer
.Itac ed to the houses as well as to each corner of the
i lih ;! "■'r'.f'""^' •"»■ "— '. ""I children, lent their
» h a,d „s progress, l,y working at large oars; but
I « cUorts d,d not seen, materially to increase the speed at
wlacl, they moved. However, tl,e.« peculiar mariners dn
Fobably trouble then.selves about delay, as they are su4
Slc3pmg on land, at whatever pace they may go
Like 2V"'f """:"! """" """""" '"y "1*—" -hvo
L e the Mongols ,n then- vast prairies, they wander at will.
..more ortuuato than these latter, they have constructed
a, uselvc, a httlo solitude in the nuust of civilisation, and
Try atdo. ''"' " ''°"""° '"" '" "" """"""S™ "f " «"1-.-
6. TNe.se floating islands are to bo found on all of the grea,
so,ClMna,a„,., at first sight present an enehantiugr pic
ta>^ of happ„,ess »ud plenty, whilst it is impossible not ,o
188
THE SIXTH READER.
admire the ingenious industry of tliose Chinese, so singular iii
all their proceedings. But wlien you consider tlio cuuho ot
their construction, the labor and the patience necessary lot
their creation by people unable to find a corner of the isolid
earth on which to establish themselves, the smiling picture
assumes a darker tint, and the mind endeavors vainly to pent-
trate the future of a race so numerous that, the land will no
longer hold it, and which has sought a resting-place on the
Burface of the waters. Huo,
70. THE SKYLARK.
BIRD of the wildcrne'?3,
. , Blithesome and cumberless.
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea I
Emblem of happiness,
Blessed is thy dwelling-place, —
Oh, to abide in the desert with thee I
Wild is thy lay, and loud,
Far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.
Where, on tliy dewy wing.
Where art thou journeying?
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and fountain sheen,
O'er moor and mountain green,
O'er the red streamers that herald the dayj
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim,
Musical cherub, soar, singing away I
Then, when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms.
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be I
Emblem of happiness.
Blest is thv dwelliiiP--nl.ipp —
Oh, to abide in the desert with thee I nooa
RHETORICAL.
71 REVOLUTIONISTS.
189
rniin!
l"Tho tnlllUj of the re.'lcMe Dim ii„ , ■ .
«'.l" ..f Carlo, I., „„., tl c ft,S rtM °"'""*' "■"■'■" """■» »'" i'O'""'-
*»»"""", stamped wi.l, tl,a?8, of "'""'." "■""^''""■^
moat aiicoessfiil. '■lioug-est and
2. Tlic judges of Cliarloa I sot pvp,-v „, ■
'liv«t tl,oi,. act of „,at fatal c , lo", andf' "° "°''' '"
« Jivino jndgmont, vvl.iol, tl.oy 'u L° , .'".'"'P'"'''''"' " "«
;f»-'™;«..oysa,-d, „ad aimod it''.^ o";::: ':;:rs
;«: T-so^;it''r:r?T"°'"''''--'^'-'-'^
1 Ills oiaoig, o' uiili his knowli.do-,. n„ , • .,
osttae •■'hoiei-cspoiisibliilvoftv.nnnvairt f • ^ " ""^
'""' tL,.y domandod locko ,i " f ?f " "'I." '"T^ f'"™
« -mpicd „,.do -foot, a,,d^;':.,r;,:'':,:r ,: ,: :\L":
ttr " """°"' " """'"> -'"•"" '"■» <-t„ could at:
Wood-slicd If Lo kf, f 1 , ™"""'^ "■'"' °Pr™««i"n »..d
»«, made' wa.^1, * o'lflfe^^ ""' '"'""'''■ «^ '-"•
1
I'-
ll i ,
I
r
ti-
.^f !^t i
■'",'
' '14
V^i¥^
190
THE SIXTH READER.
4. Who is ig'norant that at the very momfnt when he had
decided on war, it was preparing- against him, in anhr to
force him, after so. many concessions, to abandon wliatoviT
yet remained of his power and prerogatives— tlie last rem.
nants of the legal government of tlie conntry? And mw
when the king was conquered, lie was judged, he was con-
cl(!mned without law, contrary to all laws, for acts wliieii no
law had over foreseen, or qualified as crimes, which the con-
science neither of the king nor of the people had ever drciimed
of considering as falling under the jurisdiction of men, or of
being punishable at their hands.
5. How would every soul have swelled with indignation
had the obscurest citizen been treated in this maiuior, and
been put to death for crimes defined by an ex post facto hw
and by pretended judges, yesterday his enemies, to-day Lis
rivals, to-morrow his heirs 1 And what would not have bucn
attempted against the least of Englishmen, was perpetrated
on the King of England, on the head of the English Ciiurch as
well as tlie State, on the representative and the symbol of all
authority, order, law, justice, of all that in human society
borders on the limit, and awakens the idea of the Divine
attributes 1 ^uizot.
73. THE AZTEC EMPIRE.
[Some of the lioriible abominations prevalent amonjf the Aztecs, at the
time of the conquest of Mexico by Cortez, are here gniphically described by
Prescott.]
rpHE amount of victims immolated on its accursed altars
l^«iiv» X vvould stagger the faith of the least scrupulous believer.
Scarcely any author pretends to estimate the yearly sacrifice
throughout the empire at less than twenty thousand, and some
carry the number as high as fifty. On great occasions, as the
coronation of a king, or the consecration of a toniple, the num-
ber becomes still more appalling. At the dedication of tlio
great temple Huiiiiilopotciili, in 1486, the prisoners wlio, for
BniSTORICAI,.
t^l
OTne yea,-,, had been reserved f,,,- „,„ p„,p„,„_ ,,,.,.„ ^
r.™ al: ,„ar,o™ of the cupitul. Tl„.y „ero ,a ,-„d in Z
c.^u,„„d „evo,-al days, and seventy th„n.,a„d capt ves aT ^^
(0 .avo penrted at the shrine of tl,i, ternhie deity
^. Une lact iway be consitlorod coi-t'^iin Tf
rx;^.;^'^ ;;:''----" •>X~:f
-.■o.and^t,d:;:ij;:r: 7z:i:ir":""''^r
rr;„!::™:re?:-j::--''^"-"^
.Je Spaniards -epeatedly owed tit ol p': ::,Z'"\^"™
M.„t«j,„na was asked why he had .nnSt^ ;,hL':';
ac to,„a„„a,„ h„ independenec on his b„,-do s he re
X":: =;^"::;.rr::i:r;-r'r ^n
I'viiivw; .. 9 IT , "•"'loiii, iiimioi 1/ work oP
c. .lualu.n? How the interests of laununity be cousM
where a man is lowered to the rank of t h. i , .1 '
The influence of the A.tees i^t < t d dr"o " '"■'■^''
-0; in the sa.„ „,a„„er as 1 td": iaTlts'tftht
4. Men became familiar with scenes nf >>m..^.. i x,
,,V|,, ;,"",'' ' "'" ""'"■""■'' "'^'■" "'"de furoeions. H,e feehin
193
l■i^^
THE SIXTH READER.
ing fainter and fainter, as thonsands and tliousandR of miser-
able victims, throujifh tin; empire, were yearly fattened in its
caj^es, sacrinced on its altars, dressed and served at its ban-
quets. Tlie whole land was converted into a vast buiiiiiu
J(^\*cli ,li • shamble. The (Mnpire of the Aztecs did not fall before its tiiiu;.
Pbescott.
7;}. TFIE VALLEY OF MEXICO.
[Tlic aniiiils of l.istoiy record few felits of greater daring and bravcrj- than
those by which ii handful of Spaniards, led ou by the noble Cortez, subdued
an immense eniiiire, and placed the banner of Caatilo on the loftiest pin-
naclu, Tenochtltlau.]
THEY had not advanced far, when, turning an angle of the
Sierra, they suddenly came upon a view which more than
compensated for the toils of the preceding day. It was tiio
Valley of Mexico, or Tcnochtitlan, as more commonly called by
the natives, which, with its picturesque assembly of wat(;r,
woodland, and cultivated plains, its shining cities and shadowy
hills, was spread out like some gay and gorgeous panorama
before them. In the highly rarefied atmosphere of these upper
regions, even remote objects have a brilliancy of coloring, and
a distinctness of outline, which seems to annihilate distance.
2. Stretching far away at their feet, were seen noble foresta
of oak, sycamore, and cedar, and far beyond yellow fields of
maize and the towering maguey, intermingled with orchards
and blooming gardens ; for Howers, in such demand for their
religious festivals, were even more abundant in this populous
valley than in other parts of Anahuac.
8, In the centre of the great basin were beheld the lakes,
occupying then a much larger portion of its surface than at
"aj.^ present; their borders thickly studded with towns and ham-
lets ; and in the midst, like sonit; Indian empress, with iier
coronal of pearls, the fair city of Mexico, with her white towers
and pyramidal temples, reposing, as it were, ou the bosom ol
the waters, the far-famed Venice of the Aztecs.
RHETORICAL.
193
4. High over all rose the roval hill nf Pha«. u
2;f:r:e7rz'/'';:''tr f : '-' ^'-^ ''-" '™™
.atore of tl,c lake -,• 1 ""••/,''"'"'=''- boy""-! the bl„.
her jewels. r««^-^ uevisert lor the fairest o.
Pbesoott.
.I'-'HA.
74, WHAT IS POETBT?
-i. o,a„, a„/e4 :;^-, ^Z^^^T'I^^
and m the thoughts of e-lf.rvfV.of ^u - . ^ years,
of Paradise ^ ^ ^ '^^'" '"' «P'"^« *° the gates
cadence is heard in the thnnr^n,. o ^ xv. ' "^
■It",; :i\r""*; »» *•• •-" '— .,-
ui uui, not a breeze calhne' frorv ta Ki„« „ • xl
, tte birds of the summer valleyf „r a Idil .^ 1°"' *"
;8ht raina it. low a„d n,oumM rgYl^v'Mr^ ."*
«»wer, of spring. „„t a cloud bathiTitelif , L ^'"'^'"f
insr in thf vpIIo— o+^ r u^ . '''^'"ff"'. not a rock g-low.
l>nu
lU
THE SIXTH READER.
of being. The earth and heavens are quickened by its spirit;
y^ and the heavings of the great deep, in tempest and in calm,
Y^ ar« but its secret and mysterious breatliings.
G. W. Pkkntioe
16. OCR NEIGHBOR.
I ^ .1'.
^AVl
SET it down gently at the altar rail,
The faithful, aged dust, with honors meet;
Long have we seen that pious face so pale
Bowed meekly at her Saviour's blessed feet.
2. These many years, her heart was hidden where
i- Nor moth, nor rust, nor craft of man could harm ;
The blue eyes, eeldom lifted, save in prayer.
Beamed with her wished-for heaven's celestial calm
'V^'
.o-
3
As innocent as childhood's was the face,
Though sorrow oft had touched that tender heart;
Each trouble cameras winged by special grace.
And resignation saved the wound from smart.
4. On bead and crucifix her fingers- kept.
Until the last, their fond, accustomed hold ;
" My Jesus," breallied the lips ; the raised eyes slept,
The placid brow, the gentle hand, grew cold.
6. The choicely ripening clui^ter, Imgering late
Into October on its shrivelldtt vine, K^'^*^.
w><^ Wins mellow juices, which in patience wait
Upon those long, long days of deep sunshine.
6. Then set it gently at the altar rail.
The faithful, aged dust, with honors meet;
How can we hope, if such as shOjCan fail
Before the eternal God's high judgmeat-soat ?
S. A. STAB&
KHETOmcAL.
195
76. THE ANCJELUS
2. Tlio professor pauses ir bilT ! "" '" '""y"'-
" of l"-a Cass, iea'd: e :a^t: ^V"'''' ""^""""^ "' *»
k«t,cugaffed in cheerful ta^ 1,1 T^'"'"' '^'"' ''"'»
m»ro pieasautly in the verses of Z, ^"™' ""'' ''°"""«'
«vcr. the sport and plav of I .. ""*"'"= P-'-^-^'- Nay.
'.P-eMo^veafe/J Lntsrl""' "'"""^ ^'^ '"'-
3. Well n,ight the Ange" u" I H h '"'""" "'°"«''"-
evonin,, n,or„. and neonf I ", ^ , "V"-;'"!^ "P- ". "At
annunciation." For this i„ 7, , u ' ''°'' «'™ "° ""g^Ho
e«' ^«y; and in ^^nh r^ u" frils\°;t "' ''V'^'^^^^^''
Pitcre, of the civil. With firlf 7 ° *'''*"'''° "»'"'»•
away from „s, and the new Z t^VI ''" "'" ■'"^ *° ^''P
•;e "feM,» upon „„r Zj^^ i,:' ■:;r\^ ""-^f '»
skoals walk, and when natme 7, j^' " ''°"'' "he"
.*lly personates dea"h. ' "'" '""^ "'""" °». ««'«'
.i^rththlen'^ofn-Mrrr " «™<' <"■*'■•«" -uld
»i's close approaches w h 'm"'"' ."'""'■ »"™''-^d in hue,
»«wevcr fautastically flfattf V'?"' "'"""''O '='"'?-'«.
|^«d prayer, and a eheTr ? "! "'^ » """"I, with whis.
"»t when gl'intas „:: p?ea7:ra ■ ""u "" "°"''°''
H has ris«n to the ,Jit?,,., I •'"'"' *''°"S:'' ""^^n,
*". »o the festival ''d:rlVrar Z "f "'"' ^^^«'''
iOUJ'**!,
V\wvrUAVWv,
106
THfl SIXTH READER.
greet, with the natural, tho spiritual Sun, the Day-spring frnnj
on liigh that rose on beniglited man, and chased away tho
darkness and tho shadow of deatli wherein he sate.
5. Who does not see and feel the clear analogy? And who
will neglect, if it bo brought tlnia to his memory, to shield
himself behind the ample measure of this grace, against " the
arrow flying in the day," in its sharp and well-aimed teinptu-
tionsT At these eventful periods will the Angclus bell cull
out to us aloud, and make the joyful Annunciation, speaking
in angel's words and angel's tones, to the gladsome, to tho
anxious, and to the weary heart ; gladsome at morn, anxious
at noon, weary at eve.
6. Truly it was a heavenly thought that suggested tho
U>^v... appointment of both time and thing. For what can chime so
well with the first of those feelings and its season, as the
glorious news that " the Lord's angel" hath brought to earth
such tidings as his ? What can suit the second better than to
speak resignation in Mary's words : " Behold thy servant, or
handmaid,"—" Be it done unto me according to Thy word ?"
What can refresh the third, and cast forward bright rays into
the gloom of approaching night, more than the thought that
God's own Eternal Word dwelleth ever amongst us, our com-
fo.'ter and help? Cardinal Wibbmau.
77. SONG OF THE SHIRT.
(An able critic says of this song, that its great merit Is Its truthfuluess.
The cracked, tuneless voice, trembUug under ita burden of sorrows, now
shrunk down into the whispers of weakness, and now shuddering up into the
laughter of despair. In the centre of this true tragedy its author has, mih a
. u -K ikllful and sparing hand, dropped a pun or two and conceit or two, and these
U.V '.^•♦W , ^^^^^ ^^^ precisely what make you quake-" every tear hinders needle and
tiir^ " He knew that, to deepen the deepest woe of humanity, It is the best
way to show it in the lurid light of mirth ; that there is a sorrow too deep for
tcars-too deep for slghs-but none too deep for smiles, and that tho xdde oj
and laughter of an idiot might accompany and servo to aggravate the mgm
ttf a god.]
ITH fingers weary and worn.
With eyelids heavy and red,
1/
w
BHBTORICAL.
A woman fiat, in unwomanly ra^H
%n.g her needle and tuL.T
St.tchI stitch I HtitchI , ^
And 8t,ll. w.th a voice of dolu oua pitch.
She sang the "Song of the Shlrtr^-
«. Work ! work I work I
Along with tt,e barbarous Turk
^i this ]8 Christian work I
8. Work-work-work-
Till the brain bee-ins f,. = • .
W«rk-„„rk_„„4^'"' " '
„"• "»<' ffMsel, and band - ,
Baud, and gusaet, and JL,"'
«e^ tnem on jn a dream I
*• ^^^^ '''''' ^'th sisters dear !
Oh I men. with mothers and wives I
It >8 not Imen you're wearing, ou
But human creatures^ lives^l '
btitch-stitch-stitch
In poverty, hunger, and dirt f
Sewing at once a double thread- '^
A shroud as well as a shirt, r.^ ,,
«• "-^J^hy do I talk of Death
That Thantom of grisly bJnef
mk
1B7
I •:
'^y* » tfif
1
198 THE SIXTH BEADER.
I hardly fear his terrible shape,
It seems so like my own 1 —
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fasts I keep :
God ! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap I
^_flU.^.n>"
Work — work — work I
My labor never flags ;
And what are its wages ? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread,— and rags,—
That shatter'd roof— and this nahed floor —
A table — a broken chair —
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there 1
l»vv;-
t-^)-.\\:-
*l. Work— work— work 1
From weary chime to chime !
Work — work — work,
A prisoner's work for crime 1
Band, and gusset, and seam.
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd,
As well as the weary hand.
8. Work— work— work 1
lu the dull December light,
And work — work — work,
When the weather is warm and bright:
While underneath the eaves iui>«^'jv \vJ^
The brooding swallows cling,
As if to show me their sunny backs,
And ^Vwji me with the Spring. ^^'•^■'■.
9. Oh 1 but to breathe the breath
Of the cowslip and primrose gweet,
RHETORICAL.
With the 8ky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet :
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of 'want,
And the walk that costs a meal I
10. Oh I but for one short hour I
A respite, however brief I
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope,
But only time for Grief I
A little weeping would ease my heart-
But in their _briny bed ^._ j^ '
My tears must stop, for every drop
Hmders needle and thread I
199
11
. With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread ;—
Stitch! stitch I etitch I
In poverty, hunger, and dirt
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch-
Would that its tone could reach the rich I-
She sang this " Song of the Shirt." Hooa
TO. THE PRESS.
rpHE Press was inaugurated by the publication of the Bible;
^ It has descended to the language of Billingsgate ; thus
rrr' ;?' r''^' '^^^ ^^^^^^ "P- thelmple , and
ha strayed to the tavern and to the house of iniquity. Bui '
a^thevuest poets have not been able to tarnish the Lv ol '
Homer, ur V.rg.1, and of Tasso, and as the discordant' sounds
of a wretched musical instrument detract nothing from the
*^*NM«
30U
THE SIXTH READEB.
\>'
magic notes of Mozart and Rossini ; as the prodigies of Michael
Augelo and of Raphael are in nowise impaired by the ridiculous
imitations of _ sign-b oard painters, so the Press should lose
nothing of its value on account of the follies and excesses
wherein it has been rendered an accomplice.
2. Let us never confound abuse with use ; if it were neces-
ary to destroy the latter to restrain the former, but little would
remain to us on the face of the earth. What is it that man
does not abuse ? He abuses his intellect, his will, all the fac-
ulties of his soul, his senses, his body, his fortune, his reputa"
tion, his relations with other men ; all, in fact, that is under hia
control. There is no evil to which the abuse of good may not
lead ; to bury a sword in an innocent heart is to abuse the
instrument and the hand ; it is to turn from their object two
valuable agents which Heaven has allowed us to provide for
our happiness.
3. The influence of the Press has extended over all branches
of human learning ; it has acted in extremes the most remote
from each other ; there is no point which has not felt its irre-
sistible power. Religion, society, politics, science, literature,
and the fine arts, have all experienced the effects of this won-
derful invention. It has everywhere acquired titles to grati-
tude, and everywhere it has left subjects of recrimination and
complaint.
4. But from the very fact that the new agent was of uni-
versal application, it followed that we might always expect to
find evil along with the good. The same sun that enlightens,
fertilizes, and embellishes the earth, sometimes burns up our
fields, poisons the marshes, and lets loose the pestilential vapors
.1^^ which scatter broadcast desolation and death.
5. If religion has many evils to deplore, it has new triumphs-
to engrave upon its annals ; if it is true that the Press has
greatly favored the diffusion of error, it is not the less true
that, with its aid, religious knowledge has elevated itself to an
extent that could scarcely have been reached without this dis-
covery. The Press has doubtless contributed to pTepare oni
RHETOBICAL.
201
epoch for skepticism and incredulity ; but the very contradic-
tions which have sprung up against the faith have shown more
and more the solidity of its foundations, and have placed at
its service a^trgasup of learning and science, which probably
it would never have- possessed but for this powerful vehicle
Balhez.
of human thought
n
m
',.1«
79. RUINS OP COPAN AND PALENQUE.
[These ruins exist in tJie interior of Guatemala, in Central America.]
TTTE returned to the base of the pyramidal structure, and
** ascended by re^lar stone steps, in some places forced
apart by bushes and saplings, and in others thrown down by
the growth of large trees, while some remained entire. In
parts they were ornamented with sculptured figures and rows
of death's-heads. Climbing over the ruined top, we reached a^''"*^
terrace overgrown with trees, and, crossing it, descended by
stone steps into an area so covered with trees, that at first we
could not make out its form, but which, on clearing the way
with the machete, we ascertained to be a square, and with
steps on all sides almost as perfect as those of the Roman
amphitheatre.
2. The steps were ornamented with sculpture, and on the
south side, about half-way up, forced out of its place by roots,
was a colossal head, evidently a portrait. We ascended these
steps, and reached a broad terrace a hundred feet high, over-
looking the river, and supported by the wall which we had
seen from the opposite bank. The whole terrace was covered
with trees, and, even at this height from the ground, were two
gigantic cibas, or wild cotton-trees of India, above twenty
feet in circumference, extending their half-naked roots fifty or
a hundred feet around, binding down the ruins, and shading
them with tlieir wido-spreading branches.
3. Wu sat down on the very edge of the wall, and strove in
vuiu to penetrate the mystery by which we were surrounded.
9*
^02
THE SIXTH READER.
Kl
l\
Who were the people that built this city ? In che ruined cities
of Egypt, even in the, long-lost Petra, the stranger knowH the
Btory of the people whose vestiges are around him. Amc'rica,
say historians, was peopled by savages ; but savages never
reared' these structures, savages never carved these stones.
Wt asked the Indians who made them, and their dull answer
was, " Quien sabe ?" " Who knows?"
4. There were no associations connected with the place,
none of those stirring recollections which hallow Rome, Athens,
and
*' The world's great mistress on the Egyptian plain j"
but architecture, sculpture, and p&^ting^ all the arts which
embellish life, had flourished in this overgrown f/^rest ; orators,
warriors, and statesmen, beauty, ambition, and glory, had lived
and passed away, and none knew that such things had been,
or could tell of their past existence. Books, the records of
knowledge, are silent on this theme. -' •
5. The city was desolate. It lay before us like a shattered
bark in the midst of the ocean, her masts gone, her name
eflFaced, her crew perished, and none to tell whence she came,
" to whom she belonged, how long on her voyage, or what caused
her destruction ; her lost people to be traced only by some
fancied resemblance in the construction of the vessel, and,
perhaps, rever to be known at all. The place where wo sat,
was it a citadel from which an unknown people had sounded
the trumpet of war ? or a temple for the worship of the God
of peace ? or did the inhabitants worship the idols made with
their own hands, and offer sacrifices on the stones before tlierri?
6. All was mystery— dark, impenetrable mystery ; and every
circumstance increased it. In Egypt, the colossal skeletons
of gigantic temples stand in the unwatered sands in all the
.^-' nakedness of desolation ; here an immense forest shrouded the
^^ ruins, hiding tliem from sight, heightening the impression un<i
njoral effect, and giving an intensity and almoHt wildness ta
the interest.
RHETORICAL.
208
1. Then> wtM-e the remains of cultivated, polished, and peculiar
people, who had passed through all the stages incident to the
rise and fall of nations ; reached their golden age, and per-
iflhcd, entirely unknown. The links which connected them with
the human famil> were severed and lost; and these were the
only memorials of their footsteps upon earth. We lived in th
ruined palace of their kings ; we went up to ^- eir desolat
temples and fallen aitars ; and, wherever we moved, we saw
the evidences of their taste, their skill in arts, their wealth and
power.
8. In the midst of desolation and ruin, we looked back to the
past, cleared away the gloomy forest, and fancied every build-
ing perfect, with its terraces and pyramids, its sculptured and
pointed ornaments, grand, lofty, and imposing, and overlook-
ing an imm^ense inhabited plain. We called back into life the
strange people who gazed at us in sadness from the walls ;
pictured them in fanciful costumes and adorned with plumes of
feathers, ascending the terraces of the palace, and the steps
leadmg to the temples, and often we imagined a scene of
unique and gorgeous beauty and magnificence.
9. In the romance of the world's history, nothing ever im-
pressed me more forcibly than the spectacle of this great and
lovely city, overturned, desolate, and lost ; discovered by acci-
dent, overgrown with trees for miles around, and without even
a name to distinguish it. Apart from every thing else, it was
8 mourning witness to the world's mutations. SiEPHwa
80. THE SPIRIT OF BEAUTY.
rpHE Spirit of Beauty unfurls her light, ^'^/^ct
-*• And wheels her track in a joyous flight •
I know her track through the balmy air,
By the blossoms that cluster and whiten there;
She leaves the tops of the mountains green,
And gems the valley with crystal sheen. \^UK
204
THE SIXTH READEB.
ir'
^
lA
0^'
3, At room I know where she rested at night,
For the roses are gushing with dewy light; -toiAJi^-.
Then she mounts again, and round her flings
A shower of light from her crimson wings ;
Till the spirit is drunk with the music on high,
That silently fills it with ecstasy. ,
3. At noon she hies to a cool retreat,
Where bowering elms over waters meet; j,'-.:'
^^ She dimples the wave where the green leaves dip,
As it srailicgly curls like a maiden's lip, ^.v • .
When her tremulous bosom would hide, in vain,
From her lover, the hope that she loves again.
4. At eve^she hangs o'er the western sky, ,
Dark clouds for a glorious canopy,
And round the skirts of their deepen'd fold |^v -U
She paints a border of purple and gold,
Where the lingering sunbeams love to stay,
When their god in his glory has passed away.
/%o.>-^..-
She hovers round us at twilight hour, f^
When her presence is felt with the deepest power )
She silvers the landscape and crowds the stream
With shadows that flit like a fairy dream ;
Then wheeling her flight through the gladdened air.
The Spirit of Beauty is everywhere. Dawu
81. MAN'S POSITION IN CREATION.
THE first feature to be noticed in the condition of this
creature, man, is his want of power. Not only is his
health uncertain, but at his best estate his strength is very
small. Brute matter resists him passively. He cannot lift
great weights of it, nor dig deep into it. Even with the help
Rhetorical.
205
of the most ingenious machinery and the united labor of mul-
titudcs he can do little but scratch the surface of the planet, ...^^^
without being able to alter the expression of one of its linea-
mcntfl. Fire and water are both his masters. His prosperity
is at the mercy of the weather, ir
2 Matter is baffling and ruining him .somewhere on the
farih,at all hours of day and night. He has to struggle con-
tinually to maintain his position, and then maintains it with
exceeding difficulty. Considering how many thousands Ox
years the race of man has inhabited the world, it is sur.
prising how little control he has acquired over diseases, how^
little he knows of them, how much less he can do to alleviate
them. Even in his arts and sciences there are strangely few
things which he can reduce to certainty.
3. His knowledge is extremely limited, and is liable to the
most humiliating errors and the most unexpected mistakes.
He is in comparative ignorance of himself, of his thinking
principle, of the processes of his immaterial soul, of the laws
of its various faculties, or of the combinations of mind and
matter. Metaphysics, which should rank next to religion in
the scale of sciences, are a proverb for confusion and ob-
scurity. Infinite longings, perpetually checked by a sense of
feebleness, and circumscribed within the limits of a narrow
prison,— this is a description of the highest and most aspiring
moods of man. ' Vvt^^^-t )
4. Such is the condition of our man^if we look at him in hia
solitary dignity as lord of the creation. But even this is too
favorable a representation of him. His solitary dignity is
» mere imagination. On the contrary, he is completely mixed
op with the crowd of inferior creatures, and in numberless
ways dependent upon them. If left to himself, the ponderous
earth is simply useless to him. Its maternal bosom contains
supplies of minerals dnd gases, which are meant for the dai y
sustaining of human life. Without them this man would die
m torture in a few days ; and yet by no chemistry can he get
hold of them himself and make them into food.
900
THE SIXTH READER.
5. He is simply dependent upon plants. They alone can
make the earth nutritious to him, whether directly as food
themselves, or indirectly by their support of animal life. And
they do this by a multitude of hidden processes, many of
which, perhaps the majority, are beyond the explanation uf
Jbuman chemistry. Thus he is at the mercy of the vegetable
world. The grass that tops his grave, which fed him in his
life, now feeds on him in turn.
6. In like manner is he dependent upon the inferior animals.
Some give him strength to work with, some warm materials
to clothe himself with, some their flesh to eat or their milk to
drin).' A vast proportion of mankind have to spend their
timo, their skill, their wealth, in waiting upon horses and
cowB and camels, as if they were their servants, building
houses for them, supplying them with food, making their
Wvtv^'u beds, washing and tending them as if they were children,
and studying their comforts.
7. More than half the men in the world are perhaps en-
grossed in this occupation at the present moment. Human
families would break up, if the domestic animals ceased to be
r-jembers of them. Then, as to the insect world, it gives us
a sort of nervous trepidation to contemplate it. The num-
bers of insects, and their powers, are so terrific, so absolutely
irresistible, that they could sweep every living thing from the
earth and devour us all within a week, as if they were the
fiery breath of a destroying angel, (^u.- ^'^^ ,,^.1^
8. We can hardly tell what holds , the lightning-like speed
pA^tJ^iii their prolific generations in check. Birds of prey, intestine
war, man's active hostility,— these, calculated at their highest,
Boem inadequate to keep down the insect population, whose
numbers and powers of annoyance yearly threaten to thrust
us off our own planet. It is God Himself who puts an invisi-
ble bridle upon these countless and irresistible legions, which
otherwise would lick us up like thirsty fire. Fabbs.
BHETORICAL.
207
82. THE ACADIANS.
rpHEY were Bretons onVinallv ff.o=„ a j-
went to battle with the 'saciod Heart „/« u ""
broidercd, ap„„ their brp^tJ .t ■ '^' *■>'"= «">•
wi.did .■oe-hourit: 7^%:;:'^^ ""d- ':k"'"
deserts blossom ; the valleys of thT\ , ^ f" "'"'^
.^vept land stood thick Jh lil\ °''. '"'' '"^'"'^ ^-
Leadof h„r„ed cattle soon ^ L^d 1 ThT ' 7'' """''""■
.heir careful a„d industrious to'ds '"""'™' ""*"* "-^ '^-*
woa.en, clothed the Acadii Z^T^ZTZ, "'"" "'""^ '"^
.We to provide for its own wants o th.ft he '' "'' """'
anJ little barter. The blessin!; „f ^"'^ "" P^-'.-W-
lisl.tcdupo„«,3i,,a„dtheyirmte '"'" Z""' '""' "<"
-* Of gold anJ Silver ^^htb t r/oslrd '""o;^^ ?"!
J. clear of the court of Justice.as thi/didln^ tr^^!
4":i^'t:e:trrxrt%:V''-«'''---
.cts, recorded their wills kept thl^'in f . 7- "'™ P""'"
M, consecrated their liv™ bv Sa" -'"' "" '""' "'
-IS devotion to M::;Trcre"™'5is'ti:;r'jr''r
.ow. a,, benevolence anti^i^ted thTZanZf" prit"
,wh'o„ th;ti::;Td'be ; dtLZed"" '\f°''i ^-^ '-''^•
I fy ^uilt the young coup,: a htuT „™; *;: :'V»7"-
't, applied them with life's necessa, es ft,r a L„, ''"'':,'''"'"
We them Ged-soeed. Th. „„„..!.:'' *''.°'™™'"1'
speed. The population nnmber
od eighteen
208
THE SIXTH READER.
jjTvdA^yi-
lliuiisaiid 8onl8. And when their sun was at it« seronest the
i;toriii came down.
5. In 1162 this charge was brought against tliem : "tlut
the Council wore fully convinced of their strict attachment t.»
tlie French king, and their readiness at all times^to take piiii
with and assist him." This was the cloud, and from it tlu
ightning soon fell. In the Octavo of Our Lady's Sovei
borrows, September It, they stood upon the shore surrounded
with bayonets which were to drive them, if resisting, into tli ;
vessels prepared for their deportation. Their houses, churches,
barns, and mills, had been given to the flames -two hnndn 1
and fifty-three of these burning at once in a single settlement,
five hundred lying in ashes in another. Some fled and per-
ished in the woods, some made good their escape, most of
them submitted to the force employed.
6. Back from the cold beach about a mile^stood the Church of
Our Lady of Acadie. There they gathered for the last time,
while Father Reynal offered the Holy Mysteries for them
Then they marched slowly out, weeping, telling their beads
chanting the Litanies of the Blessed Virgin, singing hynina
to her eternal Son and her. All the way from that chapel to
the shore^the mourning procession passed through the kneeling
ranks of their wild weeping mothers and wives, of their sisters
and little children ; and when the men had passed, these rose
and followed to the ships. And so, driven aboard, thoy passed
away over the strange seas, in that Octave of Our Lady of
Sorrows.
t. The sun went down. Such of the poor women as were
left found shelter where they could for themselves and their
•hildren, and the provincial soldiery stood in their ranks npoa
the sands, alone in a once beautiful and fertile country, " with-
out a foe to subdue, or a population to protect. But the
volumes of smoke," says the Protestant historian, " which the
half-expiring embers emitted, while they marked the site of
the peasant's cottage, bore testimony to the extent of th«
work of destruction. Yjv several successive evenings the
BHETORIOAL.
209
ca lo gathered ro„,Kl the smoking ruins, as if in expectation
of the return of their masters, and all night long the faithful
watchdog^ howled over the scene of desolation, and mourned
a ike he hand that had fed and the house that had sheltered
them."
8 All these sad victims were sown, like wild-flower seeds.
hy clmnce as it were, all along the North .American coast
.rom Mame to Louisiana. No regard was paid to family ties •
aughtors were separated from iheir mothers, wives from hus^
bands, and little children from their families.
X. D. MacLeod.
88. THE TTROLESE.
IThe Tyroleso from their Alpine heighta are represented m, retnmlDff fhi.
proud answer to the Insulting demands of unconditional sJend™ t^ ^J
rpHE land we, from our fathers, had in trust,
•^ And to our children will transmit, or die;
This is our maxim, this our piety.
And God and Nature say that it is just:
That which we would perform in arm8,we must/
We read the dictate in the infant's eye,
In the wife's smile ; and in the placid s'ky,
And at our feet, amid the silent dust
Of them that were before us. Sing aloud
Old songs— the precious music of the heart I
Give, herds and flocks, your voices to the wiad
While we go forth, a self-devoted crowd,
With weapons in the fearless hand, to assert
Our virtue, and to vindicate mankind.
WosDawoursu
tio
T8V BIXl\d BBADER.
84. TO Till
ttY OF THOSE WHO FELL IN THE REBEL
LION OF 1745.
[Tlicse stanzas are fuU ot 1^9 most delicate and oxqulsltt magory am'
duep pathos.]
HOW sleep the brave who sink to rest <
With all their country's wishes bless'd I
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
R(!turn8 to deck their hallowed mould, u> •'^•«>v*v
She there shall dress a sweeter sod J*^**^
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
2. By fairy hands theii knell is rung, ,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung ;
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
''^0 bless the turf that wraps their clay j
And Freedom shall a while repair
To dwell, a weeping hermit there.
'j<U
COLUHB.
S
85. THE GRAY FOREST EAGLE.
WITH storm-daring pinion and sun-gazing eye,
The Gray Forest Eagle is king of the sky 1
Oh 1 little he loves the green valley of flowers,
Where sunshiiv! and song cheer the bright summer hours ;
For he hears in those haunts only music, and sees
But rippling of waters, and waving of trees ;
There the red-robin warbles, the honey-bee hums, ,
The tirfiid quail whistles, the shy partridge drums ;
And if those proud pinions, perchance, sweep along,
There's a shroud' ng of plumage, a hushing of song; "
The sunlight falls '-illy on leaf and in moss,
And thore's naught l ' W^. shadow black gliding across;
But the dark, gloomy f . 'fe. ^'thore down plunges the foam
Of the fierce rock-k:ii<«a orient, he cT.''.^3 as his home;
Time withers its
A trunk dry and
BHSTORICAL.
Sll
IVuU.
}>v>m«.
^4c
There he bleials his keen shriok,with the roar of the flood,
And the many-voiced sounds of tlie bluwt-Hmitten wood ; C)-;^«.'
8. Froin the fu's lofty Htmimit, where morn Ijangs its wreath, io^ft^
He views the mad water's white writiiing beneath : ' »■
On a limb of that moss-bearded homlock far down, >^.
With bright azure mantle and gaj mottled crown,
The kingfisher watches, wliile o'er him his foe.
The fierce hawk, sails circling, each moment more low ; ^^>^k
Now poised are thote pinions and pointed that beak,
His dread swoop w i "ily, when hark ! with a shriek
4. His eyeballs red biasing, high bristling his crest.
His snake-like neck arch'd, talons drawn to his breast,
With the rush of the wind-gust, the glancing of light,
The Gray Forest Eagle shoots down in his flight ;
One blow of those talons, one plunge of that neck.
The strong hawk hangs lifeless, a blood-dripping wreck ;
And as dives the free kingfisher, dart-like on high tJUu<>-
With his prey soars the eagle, aud melts in the sky.
**♦♦•*♦♦«
5. Time whirls round his circle, his years roll away,
But the Gray Forest Eagle minds little his sway ;
The child spurns its buds^for youth's thorn-hidden bloom,
Seeks manhood's bright phantoms, finds age and a tonjb ;
But the eagle's eye dims not, his wing is unbowed, )*fi^vv.a.
Still drinks he the sunshine, still scales he the cloud I
The green tiny pine shrub points up from the moss, ♦va.:*.
The wren's foot would cover it, tripping across ; 'K.*Jt;.t
5. Jit! Iv'coh.iut down Iropping would crush it beneath,
I'.iif. ' ■„ " -.rm'd wi •; leaven's sunshine and fann'd by ita 'V**-^
Lieatn ;
The seasons fly past it, its head is on high,
Its thick branches challenge each mood of the sky ;
On its rough bark the moss a green mantle creates,
And the deer from his antlers the velvet down grates :
iiiTtO witiicrs its rooiS, it liits sadiy in uxr
A trunk dry and wasted, a top jagged and bare,
213
THE SIXTH READER.
'
V^
V*V
V
,h^^
*l. Till it rocks in the soft breeze, and crashes to earth,
Its brown fragments strewing the place of its birth.
The eagle has seen it up-struggling to sight,
He has seen it defying the storm in its mio;ht,
Then prostrate, soil-blended, with plants sprouting o'er.
But the Gray Forest Eagle is still as of yore. ^^'^.
His flaming eye dims not, his wing is unbow'd,"^
Still drinks he the sunshine, still scales he the cloud I
8. He has seen from his eyrie the forest below, <!^^rJL
In bud and in leaf, robed with crimson and snow.
The thickets, deep wolf-lairs," the high crag his throne.
And the shriek of the panther has answer'd his own.
He has seen the wild red man the lord of the shades,
And the smoke of his wigwams curl'd thick in the glades j
He has seen the proud forest melt breath-like away,
And the breast of the earth lying bare to the day :
9. He sees the green meadow-grass hiding the lair,
And his crag-throne spread naked to sun and to air ; ,
And his shriek is now answer'd, while sweeping along,
By the low of the herd and the husbandman's song ;
He has seen the wild red man swept oflF by his foes.
And he sees dome and roof where those smokes once
. arose;
liut his flaming eye dims not, his wing is unbow'd.
Still drinks he the sunshine, still scales he the cloud I
10. An emblem of Freedom, stern, haughty, and high.
Is the Gray Forest Eagle, that king of the sky I
It scorns the bright scenes, the gay places of earth —
By the mountain and torrent it springs into birth ;
There, rock'd by the whirlwind, baptized in the foam.
It's guarded and cherish'd, and there is it's home 1
A. & Stbebk
RHETORICAL.
S13
86. MOTHER
THE word Mother is the first wh.VT. ti u
A without ever having Zll^u f ,^'^^,^ P--"-'-, oven
nation it expresses the fir«f • language of every
'1.0 love to'e^pC e ™ 3 :~: "' *^, ^^=-'- '^-
'M in the folds of oven [l ! "„ ^ .'"" '''"^^"''So. ™"
.'.".» of t„„ „„e phraJe "4';, Z ■^' ™f . ^^^ -Oerfu,
■aiiso, the perfume it exhale, n„. "^""""or may be the
% ifo^A^ preserves iZVZ '"'r '"^^ ' ">« '«"•<' '
"^t- Man may beoomf Zf re;;" ^„"S-" --^ the WT
«ays stands erect. Above all „!,. '" ""f"- ""s image al-
, « lost her ; when o.r 1 ft is allad """', "' ""'''"' ^'""^
'-ending sun casts th Wthrd\°V ' '"''""■ "'«' "'»
»re us, we seem to see n Wbl . 7 °' ""•■ P^^' 0^^'
« pure light, which yelrs e lb," 1. '" ^^° °""""'''
«W,-aw i, f,„m ,3 . and ™ der t e !b '" "T""'"' "' "■^^■
•Iways fresh and f„ll'„f y„„th ' * i:*";™ °' " "^embrance
«» out, "My mother I ^AbZ t ' '" '" '""'=' ""'"''"'^
*i. thought the heart seems' to fi'„d " "^ °'°""=' '" ^i"'
«t secret souvenirs, hidd" neA "rP"'""' y°"">. Our
li~te friends, prese ve a cl T'- ''°"' ''''''° our most in.
-Itipliod as our'dlyl -Lreasr " ^""^'""'^ -"
•««-X^»r:mp:ab'irr""-"''"™ ^"--^o *» "■'
... iife-strong and viCous' °'T'""^ "" "" *»= "-"•'» '
■« Ah, genlmen,itts be ;„::;:?« '■" *^ "^^^ ""«' «•'
»U..d lively expression o a sometj " "" '°°^' ""'"■
*d, we ca,. find none similar Th"^ '",""■■ '"""> '"■•
^;.™e it here-because it U tp„, rHb '"^' """"' ""
h--foritasen.m„reT;;^::;'^;^^^^^^^
J ore
211
THE SIXTH BEADER.
sacred, than that which our subject imposes upon it ; — this
something, whence comes this word, Mother — the perfunia
which embalms it — is Love.
4. On this earth the mother is the sweetest personification
of love ; her face bears the most beautiful smile of love, be-
cause her heart guards its richest treasure. The maternal
leart is the birth-place of the love which forms the foundation
of our life. Pebh Fblix
^''^-
l^^
m
.<'-
. V
87. THE EXTRA TRAIN.
AT a quiet country station, where flowers climbing be-
neath the windows, hanging their heads languidly in
the summer's heat — where, during the intervals of business,
a warm repose reigns over the place — in a small room
opening from the sunny platform, a telegraph lad sits before
his idle instrument. He has so little to do that, to keep him-
self from dozing in the sultry stillness, he is playing at mar-
bles — superior marbles, a new purchase, and their click, as
he gives many a well directed aim, is the only sound on
the air.
2. But hark I another sound comes from the distance, a
shrill, faint whistle, and a hum, swelling into a continuous,
increasing roar. A train is coming. Well, let it come. It is
an extra train, and it don't stop here ; it may bang away.
And bang away it does, with a wild scream, shaking the
windows and platform of the station as it rattles through, and
making the marbles dance out of their scientific positions,
The lad pauses, to watch, through the open door, the flitting
carriages and white-glancing faces of the passengers, and
thei resumes his game.
3. Again there is silence, until, after a warning gurgled
from its deep throat, the clock strikes — Three. He glances
listlessly up ; thiiu, as if the fingers were pointed with a
Btern and solemn warning, suddenly utters a dreadful cry,
RHETORICAL.
215
•tu
Md with both arras flung up, rushes, like a little maniao|
out on the platform. The station-master, coming leisurely
down a side-path, sees him, and runs forward. " I didn't
signal— I didn't signal, and the up-train is just due 1" cries
tlie boy. ^,^ ,^
4. "My Godl" The man fairly staggers, appalled by the
rightful peril. If the up-train is punctual to its time, and
m left the next station, where, according to some late'
agreement, it ought to have been detained until this train
(run on for some casual purpose) had passed, they must in-
evitably meet, and a catastrophe ensue. There was a tunnel-
on the line. May God be merciful this day I
5. The alarm is quicki:, raised, and officials start from vari-
ous corners. Now the sigiials work with frantic speed. After
a breathless pause, the needle quivers with the response-the '
up-train has passed the next station, and is on its way, uncon-
scious of danger; so clearly there is nothing to do but prepare
for the worst.
6. Men, with grave faces, hurry down the Ifne. A surgeon,
and then another, appears on the scene; the few inhabitants
of the neighborhood, suspending every employment, gather
with straining eyes, on the little bridge which spans the rails ;
and all this time the poor negligent lad, kicked indignantly
by a dozen feet, stands shivering and crying on the plat-
form.
* * * * *
I "Well, we had not that to bear in my young days," said
Father Lawrence, as the train, after tearing, with a desperate
shnek, mto subterraneous gloom, and rattling, quivering, in
darkness, relieved only by an occasional gleam of light from p
an occasional crevice overhead, at length emerged into the i
fair sunshine, and triumphantly screamed to the fields which it
cast behind it.
8. The old gentleman laughs, though rather nervouslv r fnr
luough on the line pretty often, he can never get quite ised to
tbis way of travelling, never overcome a honor of those
216
THE SIXTH READER.
JWNW.
\
underground passages, Selwyn, also, feels a strange uneaii.
ness creeping over him, and, to escape it, shows a willingnesji
to converse. There is more good-will between them that
motiicnt than there has been during their two hours' unbroken
iourney.
9. "We had a ver3' different way of travelling in tliom;
days," resumed tlie priest. "It was safety versus speed then;
but the saying is reversed by this generation. It is altogether
too clever for a loiterer like me." (-a^ J> s
10. Selwyn replied, "What, do you regret the good old nigh-
flier so long? His neck is broken, and will never be set again,
depend upon it. But I also must own a sneaking attachment
to him, for the sake of old times. To a gay young dog as I
was, there was something pleasant about travelling in those
days, what with the bright company you often met outside,
the jolly coachman with his inexhaustible stories, and the hun-
dred incidents you had time to notice on the road. Yet I must
say I would not like to coach it to London now. The improve-
ments which we* grumble at are useful to you and me, sir,
after all." "-..»»-- ^^^
11. "What's that?" A piercing whistle, sharply repeated
and answered — a curious movement — a hoarse call or two,
Something is going wrong. Down claps every window, and
heads look anxiously out. The peril is instantly understood,
We are on the same line with an approaching train.
12. Such a scene of confusion as follows, such rapid, dismal
whistles, euch heart-rending screams of distress as rise from
those flying carriages, may we never hear or see again. Some
of the doors are burst open, and the frenzied occupants leap
out, to be left, writhing and ghastly, on the road. " Keep in—
keep in — see ! we have still a chance for life."
18. By a special providence, the trains sighted each other
at a good distance. The men have turned oflf the steam, and
stand, white and breathless, in a terrible calculation— slacken
perceptibly — we slide onward — good God i we iiiect !— iNOi
Our lingering impetus carries ua within six yards of each
arm. " Six yard
fearing man fron:
BHETORIGAL.
Mt
other, and there, with laboring vapor bursting from every out-
let, face to face, we stop.
14. We stop, but are in imminent danger, for other trains
are closely due, and if the irregularity has not been already
rectified, our destruction is certain, "nie casual train has
made the least way — it must go back, and we must follow
Slowly we follow, as, with retrograding movement, it slowly
goes, a belching monster," whose murderous crash has been
arrested, but whose hot breath still snorts at us in rago
and menace. n-.>^u-
15. What's that ! A man in the next compartment, unable -
to bear the suspense, and trusting to the slow movement of
the train, has jumped out ; he lies with a dislocated neck, so
keep quiet there, if you value your safety : we keep quiet, in
such prayer as terror can make : we proceed without new
danger; and presently,— passing men who stand and seem
to cheer, — passing an engine with a tail of carriages, which
has arrived, and been detained for us, — passing beneath the
crowded bridge, we glide into the station.
18. The casual train slides off into safety, and we pause
before a throng of anxious faces on the platform. Our stoker
jumps down— heavy beads are standing on his forehead. " Six
yards between us and eternity P he shouts, with an outstretched
arm. " Six yards between us and eternity 1" He is a God-
fearing man from that hour.
88. THE MONTH OP OCTOBER IN ITALY.
npHE month of October in Italy is certainly a glorious season.
-*• The sun has contracted his heat, but not hh splendor ; he
18 less scorching, but n^t less bright. As he ribes in the
morning, he dashes sparks of radiance over awaking nature
.„.„„ri piitiCt,-, uputi ciueriiig- HIS prcaunce-cn amber, iiiiigi*
liiindfuls of gems and gold into the crowd ; and the mountains
10
U*u.>~.
)/{\*iA/L.
^i^aAam'T'
218
THE SIXTH READER.
U(a*»>-' '
U:
'\.
>/
seem to 8tn?tch forth their rocky heads, and the woods to wave
their lofty arms, in eajyerness to catch his royal largesa,
2. And after careering through a cloudless sky, when he
reaches his goal, and finds his hed spread with molten gold on
the western sea, and canopied above with purple clouds, edged
with burnished yet airy fringes, more brilliant than Ophir sup"
plied to the couch of Solomon, he expands himself into a huge
disk of most benignant radiance, as if to bid farewell to his
past course ; but soon sends back, after disappearing, radiant
messengers from the world he is visiting and cheering, to re-
mind us he will soon come back and gladden us again.
3. If less powerful, his ray is certainly richer and more ac-
tive. It has taken months to draw out of the sapless, shriv-
elled vine-stem, first green leaves, then crisp^slende^ tendrils,
and lust, little clusters of hard, sour berries ; and the growth
has been provokingly slow. But now the leaves are large and
mantling, and worthy in vine countries to have a name of their
own ; and the separated little knots have swelled up into lux-
urious bunches of grapes. And of these some are already
assuming their bright amber tint, while those which are to
glow in rich imperial purple are passing rapidly to it, through
a changing opal hue, scarcely less beautiful.
4. It is pleasant then to sit in a shady spot, on a hillside,
and look ever and anon, from one's book, over the varied and
varying landscape. For, as the broeze sweeps over the olives
on the hillside, and turns over their leaves, it brings out from
them light and shade, for their two sides vary in sober tint ;
and as the sun shines, or the cloud darkens, on the viueyardo,
in the rounded hollows between, the brilliant web of unstirring
vine-loaves displays a yellower or browner shade of its deli-
I'/ions green.
5. Then, mingle with these the innumerable other colors that
tinge the picture, from the dark cypress, the duller ilex, the
rich chestnut, the reddening orchard, the adust stubble, the
melancholy pine — to Italy what the palm-tree is to the East-
towering above the box, and the arbutus, aiid laurels of villas,
RHETORICAL.
219
wd these scattered all over the mountain, hill, and plain, with
fountains leaping up, and cascades gliding down, porticoes of
glittering marble, statues of bronze and stone, pain1;pd fronts
of rustic dwellings, with flowers innumerable, and patches ot V^'''-'^' ">'
greensward ; and you have a faint idea of the attractions
which, for this month, as in our days, used to draw out the
Roman patrician and knight, from what Horace calls the clatter
and smoke of Rome, to feast his eyes upon the calmer beauties
of the country. Cabdhcal Wiskman.
^A
89. COXCOMBRY IN CONVERSATION.
rpHE emphatic speaker dearly loves to oppose,
-■- In contact inconvenient, nose to nose, •
As if the gnomon on his neighbor's phiz,
Touch'd w||» a magnet, had attracted his.
His whisper'd theme, dilated and at large,
Proves, after all, a wind-gun's airy charge, —
An extract of his diary, — no more, —
A tasteless journal of the day before.
2. He walk'd abroad, o'ertaken in the rain,
Call'd on a friend, drank tea, stepped home again,
Eesumed his purpose, had a world of talk
With one he stumbled on, and lost his walk.
I interrupt him with a sudden bow, —
" Adieu, dear sir I lest you should lose it now.**
8. I cannot talk with civet in the room —
A fine puss gentleman, that's all perfume ; c{^
His odoriferous attempts to please
Perhaps might prosper with a swarm of bees ;
But we that make no honey, though we sting,
Poets, — are sometimes apt to maul the thing.
4. A graver coxcomb we may sometimes see,
, Quite as absurd, though not so light as he ;
220
THE SIXTH READER.
A bhallow brain behind a serious mask,
An oracle within an empty cask.
The solemn fop; — significant and budge,
A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge ;
He says but little, and that little said
Owes all its weight, like loaded dice, to lead.
His wit invites you, by his looks, to come ;
But when you knock, it never is at home :
'Tis like a parcel sent you by the stage,
Some handsome present, as your hopes presage;
'Tis heavy, bulky, and bids fair to prove
An absent friend's fidelity and love,—
But when unpack'd, your disappointment groans
To find it stuffed with brickbats, earth, and stones.
CoWTBfc
90. HENRY rV.'S APOSTROPHE TO KEEP.
H'
lU^ji
OW many thousands of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep 1 Sleep, gentle Sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness I ■^.■^:>'-'
9. Why rather. Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, ■
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, ^t s.^..^^^' -
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
t*.Htl And luU'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
Oh thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum-bell?
a Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast, h^ '
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brainB ,.
In cradle of the rude, imperious surge,
And in the visitation of the winds,
;jiA\.tui.>A
RHETORICAL.
221
Who take the ruflBan billows by the top,
Carling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafening clamors in the slippery shrouds
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ?
4. Canst thou, partial Sleep ! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour s" rude ; WcwlU
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot, *v/^4*t—
Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down I
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
SaAlCBFBAUL,
91. SUCCESS THE REWARD OF MERIT,
DISAPPOINTED authors and artists often talk as if they
were the victims of the world's stupidity or malice ; as
if men were unable or unwilling to appreciate them. Now, I
know it is said that such things have been. There havo been
men of rare promise, but of a sensitive nature, who have been
crushed by coldness and neglect, or by the hard and unfair
criticism with which their first attempts were met. But this
is far from being a common thing. The world likes to be
amused and pleased. It is really interested in having some-
thing to praise.
2. This being so, how is it possible for a man of real
merit to remain long unrecognized ? Who can imagine
that the great masterpieces of painting, or the great poems
that have come down to us from the past, could have failed to
excite the admiration of men ? In fact, human judgment,
when you take its suffrages over wide tracts and through the
lapse of ages, is infallible. In a particular place it may be
warped by passion ; in a particular time it may conform to
an artificial standard ; but give it time and room, and it Is
sure with unerring accuracy to detect the true.
3. It is as far as possible, then, from being the case that
celebrated authors or celebrated artists have become great by
y*MA*
i j'*'
' f
S93
THE SIXTH READER.
accident. There may have boon favorable circumstances.
Tliere were undoubtedly great gifts of nature ; but there
was also deep study and painful, persevering toil. I have
been told that the manuscripts of a distinguished English
poet show so many erasures that scarcely a line remaius
unaltered. The great cathedrals of Europe were the fruit of
lif3-long labor. And these are but instances of a general rulo,
4. We go into the workshops in which some of the beau-
tiful articles of merchandise are manufactured, and see a
great fire and hear the clank of machinery, and men are hur-
j^v^Wrying to and fro, stained with dust and sweat. Now some-
thing like this has been going on to give birth to these beauti-
ful creations in lettei's and arts which have delighted the
world. There has been a great fire in the furnace of the bn \
and each faculty of the mind has toiled to do its part, and
there have been many blows with the pen, the pencil, or the
chisel, until the beautiful conception is complete. Such meu
are successful, because they deserve it. The approbation of
the world did not create their success, it only recognized it.
Rev. F. 8. BAsmu
02. ALEXANDER'S FEAST.
[Tbis poem, of which we give but an extract, is considered the lyric master-
piece of English poetry, exemplifying as it does all the capabilities of onr
language, in the use of every figure of speech. The measures change in every
couplet ; there are scarce two lines alilie in accentuation, yet the whole seemi
•8 spontaneous as the cries of alarm and consternation excited by the bocchfr
nal orgies described.]
NOW strike the golden lyre again,
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ;
Break his bands of sleep asunder,
And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark 1 hark 1 the horrid sound
Has raised up his head.
As awaked from the dead,
And amazed he stares around.
BHETOBICAL.
223
2. Reveuge I revenge I Timotlieus cries j
See the furies arise ;
See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in the air,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes.
Behold the ghastly band,
Each a torch in his hand I
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle are slain,
And nnburied remain,
Inglovious on the plain ;
Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew I
3. Behold how they toss their torches on high —
How they point to the Persian abodes
And glittering temples of the hostile gods 1
The princes applaud with a furious joy,
And the king seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy ;
Thais led the way,
To light him to his prey.
And, like another Helen, fired another Troy,
DBTDm.
93. THE SILVER-BIRD'S NEST.
["We were shown a beautiful specimen of the ingenuity of birds a few
days since. It was a bird's-nest made entirely of silver wires, beautifully
woven together. The nest was found on a sycamore-tree. It was the nest of
t lianging-bird, and the material waa probably obtained from a soldier'!
epaulet which it had found."J
STRANDED soldier's epaulet,
The water's cast ashore,
A little winged rover met, ' •^•^'"-
And eyed it o'er and o'er.
The silver bright so pleased her sight,
On that; lone, idle vest,
She knew not why she should deny
Herself a silver nest.
A
924
THB SIXTH READER.
S. The Bhiniog wire she peck'd and twirl'd, Vow/^*x•..
Then bore it to her bough,
Where on a flowery tw|g 'twas curl'd—
The bird can show you how ;
But when enough of that bright stuff -^jV
The cunning builder bore
Her house to make, she would not take,
Nor did she covet, more.
S. And when the little artisan,
While neither pride nor gnilt
Had entered in her pretty plan,
Her res^'ng.place had built;
With here and there a plume to spare j?"^-
About her own light form,
Of these, inlaid with skill, she made
A lining soft and warm.
4. But, do you think the tender brood c*yA'j«-
She fondled there, and fed.
Were prouder when they understood
The sheen about their bed?
Do yea suppose that ever rose,
01 higher powers possess'd,
I»ecause they knew they peep'd and grew
Within a silver nest? Mm H. F. Gocux
94. THE BURIAL AT SEA.
[The author of this extract, Bingolarly beantifnl in thought and expression,
Is on Anglican clergyman of England, a popular, pure, and poetical writer.]
IT was that of one who, after seeking for health in a more
genial climate, was returning to England, in the hope of
lying among her own people. But we yet wanted three days
of making our own land, when it pleased God to call her to
himself.
RHETORICAL.
225
2. It waB a Btill summer evening that I committed her to
the deep. The sea was culm and peaceful ; tho suu almost
rested his broad, red disk upon tho waters, forming a path of
glory to himself upon the ocean like a road for happy spirits
to a better world ; the soft hills of Portugal were blue in the
ilirttance, the air was mild and balmy. It was just the scene
fbat seemed as if tho world had never known and never could
Know grief ; and there, while the vessel was held on and off,
were the mourners clustering round the gangway. K^\
8. There wore the weather-beaten sailors, with some feeling
even in their iron countenances ; there was the union-jack, tho
only mark of respect we could give ; then came the solemn
service, and at the sad words, " We therefore commit her body
to tfw deep," the splash of the waters, and the gurgling of tho
waves over that which was committed to their trust — not
given to their possession. For who but could feel that to be
Christian burial, when the waves had been stilled and trod-
den by our Redeemer, when the bodies of so many of his
saints have been committed to them, and when one day they
must of necessity give up their dead ?
Rev. J. M. Neajlb.
95. THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.
TT'ING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal sporty
•IV And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court;
The nobleti fill'd the benches round, the ladies by their side,
Aud 'raongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom
he sigh'd : .
And truly 'twas a gaUant thing to see that crowning show.
Valor and love, aud a king above, and the royal beasts below.
11.
Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid lanfrhino- lows • W,Uv,
They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went
with their paws : 5.crv\i. ,
10*
226 THE SIXTH READEB.
With wallowing might and stifled roar, they roU'd on one
another, j.^J^^ ,^^^
Till all the pit, with' sand and mane, was in a thund'roua
smother ; ^J^ ^^vi»i--»--'f
The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing thro' the air:
ttaid Francis then, " Faith ! gentlemen, we're better here than
there 1"
m.
De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, a beauteous lively dame,
With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seem'd
the same ; C
She thought, — The Count my lover is brave as brave can be ;
He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me.
Kings, ladies, lovers, all look on I the occasion is divine I
I'll drop my glove, to prove his love : great glory will be mine I
IV.
She dropp'd her glove, to prove his love, then look'd at him
and smiled ;
He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions wild.
The leap was quick, return was quick — he has regain'd the
place, —
Then threw the glove— but not with love— right in the lady's
face.
" By Heaven 1" cried Francis, " rightly done 1" and he rose
from where he sat :
" No love," quoth he, " but vanity, sets love a task like thatl"
L. Hunt.
96. MODERN THEORIES.
[Extract from a brilliant and eloqaent speech delivered in the National
Assembly of FrancOj 1848.]
A LL the novel doctrines of our day, all modern theories, tend
-i^ to an immoderate thirst of enjoyment, and to a spirit ol
aversion for and revolt against social authority. Yes, all the
KnETOBIOAL.
227
.nt-socal tendencies that threaten „„r cunti-y, may bo sum-
n^ed up ,„ those two words, enjoymont and con ™;I I„ "he
fir. place, enjoyment not only of one's own proper y b„t „(
rXXTl; rt '-'-' -'-' '- ''-"■™ -- --'
Mr^r ^ '"5 '""" '° P'"='= ^'"'^ y" "•« authorities o,
»,ch my assertion rests , and I shall do so without the sligh
t .ntenfon to wound the feelings of others, but merely for
he purpose of discnssion. I will call your attentior to oer
tarn number of axioms or expressions put forth by eminS
■ociahsts, which iraolv thai .1o=,-„ „p ■ i-minent
have alluded. '^^ '"" °^ ""J'^"""' "> '^"'=1' I
3. At the Luxembourg, the working classes were told that
•hey ought to aspire to the highest degree-the maximum „f en
oyment. Another orator has declared on this very Zr.Vhe'
ople toll you, through me, that they wish no longer to be
;tmi„a,: """ '^- *"' "'' "' -J"^'"-' ■» -'.where
.f!:fzr::ted:t:-i-y-::/Lrt
2-;:==e,;dtt^^^^
of happiness ,s substituted in its place
J^eelf devotion, but a happiness which is altogether ma-
6. This is the end held out io -o„uh^ -•- , -
ti'e French nation in.particnlar ""Inf •'" ^Iv ' '°^ *°
thirsting after a maf.r.nl ! ' '" '''''''^"" *« t^ia
S a material and immoderate enjoyment, the
I*
m
.J^'j
228
ljJ^yA^w''.\\
THE SIXTH RBADER,
people are taught to despise and to resist all kind of author,
ity. This rebellious disposition is not a spirit of libei-ty, but
a spirit of revolt, which threatens as much danger, if not
more, to a republican government, as to any other kind of
power,
t. In fact, authority is an essential element in a republic as
-veil as in a monarchy ; but the idea of authority is now-a-
lays materially impaired among those classes, which threaten
the social existence of France. The people are very willing
to obey laws which they find to their taste ; but to obey the
law because it is law, to obey the magistrate because he is the
magistrate, is an idea which is fast becoming extinct in the
mind of the French people. Montalkmbbet.
97. TO-MORROW IS SAINT CRISPIAN.
[Before the battle of Agincourt, several of tLe officers were disconraged by
the fewness of their soldiers. The Dnke of Westmoreland wishes but "one
ten thousand of those men who were that day idle were there to help them."
The king, Henry V., replies :] '
TTjTHAT'S he that wishes so?
* " My cousin Westmoreland ? No, my fair cousin ;
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
God's will I I pray thee, wish not one man more.
. . . Oh, do not wish one more.
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through our host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart ; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for coming put into his purse.
This day is called the Feast of Oris plan :
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand ou tiptoe when this day is named.
1 i
S. He that shall live this dav. and see old ae-o.
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
. And say: To-morrow is Saint Crispian.
6. The bowl oi
RHETORICAL.
229
. . . Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words, —
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and aio'ster,—
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd ;
This story shall the good man teach his son|
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending o tiie world,
But we in it shall be remembered ;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
BRXKXSPJUtM,
98. A CHALLENGE TO AMERICA.
T ET us quarrel, American kinsmen. Let us plunge into
-L' war. We have been friends too long. We have too
highly promoted each other's wealth and prosperity. We are
too plethoric ; we want depletion : to which end let us cut one
another's throats. ",">'■
2. Let us sink, burn, kill, and destroy— with mutual energy;
sink each other's shipping, burn each other's arsenals, destroy
each other's property at large. We will bombard your towns,
and you shall bombard ours— if you can. Let us ruin each
other's commerce as much as possible, and that will be a con-
siderable some.
3. Let our. banks break while we smite and slay one another;
let our commercial houses smash right and left in the United
States and the United Kingdom. Let us maim and mutilate
onn another; let us make of each other miserable objects,
cripples, hajt,^^d blind, adapted for the town's end, to beg
during life. *" *
4. Come, let us render the wives of each other widows, and
„ J „!,., ._.atiot,- 1.1SCU1 tu wccjj livurs ui tears,
amounting to an important quantity of "water privilege." -
6. The bowl of wrath, the devil's punch-bowl, filled high,
k
rH
230
THE SIXTH READER.
/fjv^V.
filled high as possible, share we with one another. Tin's, with
shot and bayonets, will be good in your in8id(,'8 and in t'uy i„
side— in the insides of all of us brethren.
6. Oh, how good it is— oh, how pleasant it is, for bretlnvi,
to engage iu internecine strife I What a glorious Hpe<;t;i,;i,
we Christian Anglo-Saxons, engaged iu the work of mutual
destruction— in the reciprocation of savage outrages— hIjuI
present to the despots and the fiends I
1. How many dollars will you spend ? How many poiuKis
sterling shall we? How much capital we shall sink on either
side— on land as well as in the sea I How much we shall have
to show for it in corpses and wooden legs 1— never ask what
other return we may expect for the investment.
8. Ho, then, American kinsmen, let us fight; let us murdor
and r.iin each other. Let demagogues come hot from their
conclave of evil spirits, " cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of
war," and do you be mad enough to be those mad d.gH%nd
oermit yourselves to be hounded upon us by them. Puj,ou,
99. THE WONDERFUL " ONE-HOSS SHAY."
A LOaiOAL POEM.
IThis witty and humorous poem is illustrative of New England charaalor,
The i.'ords italicised are spelt in sueh a way aa to indicate ccrtoln pecu^
liarities of pronuuciation aomotimes heard among the uneducated in Now
England.]
TTAVE you heard of the wonderful one-;io8« nhay,
■■--■- That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hun 'red years to a day,
And then, of a sudden, it— Ah, but stay,
I'll tell you what happened, without delay;
Scaring the parson int.o fits, \v«/^')
Frigiitening people out of their wits-
Have you ever heard of that, I say?
RHETORICAL. fg]
i Seventeen Hundred and Fifty-five,
Georgius Secundus was then alive-
Snuffy old drone from the German hive! <mJai^
That was the year when Lisbon town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down; j,..!,^*^
And Braddock's army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.
It was on the terrible Earthquake-day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay
8. Now, in building of chaises, I tell you what,
There is always, somewhere, a weakest spot-
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In panel or crossbar, or floor, or sill,
In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace— lurking still.
Find it somewhere you must and will-
Above or below, or within or without—
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
A chaise breaks down, but does n't wear out.
4. But the Deacon swore— (as Deacons do,
With an "/ dew vum" or an "I tell ymu")-^
He would build one shay to beat the ''^aoM;^
'N' the keounty W all the kentry raoun';
It should be so built that it cotddn' break daown:
"Fur," siiid the Deacoi., "U's mighty plain
That the weaJces' place mus' stan' the strain j
'N' the way f fix it, uz, I maintain,
Is only jest
IP make that place vz strong uz tne rest."
6. So the Deacon inquired of the village folk
Where he could find the strongest oak.
That could n't be solit: nor hmit nor brpV^
That was for spokes, and floor, and sills:
Ho 3€nt for lancewood to make the thills j
232
THB SIXTH BEADER.
The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees;
The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese,
But lasts like iron for things like these;
The hubs of logs from the " Settler's ellum" —
Last of its timber — they could n't sell 'em ;
6. Never an axe had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tips;
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle,, and linchpin too.
Steel of the finest, bright and blue ;
Thoroughbrace, bison-skin, thick and wide ;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide.
Found in the pit where the tanner died.
That was the way he "put her through."
" There I" said the Deacon, "nooio ahe^U dewP
t. Do I I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less I
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
Deacon and deaconess dropped away;
Children and grandchildren — where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-Aoss shay,
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day 1
8. Eighteen Hundred— it came, and found
The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound.
Eighteen hundred, increased by ten —
"Hahnsuvi kerridge" they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came ;
Running as usual — much the same.
Thirty and forty at last arrive ;
And then came Fifty— and Fifty-five.
9. Little of all we value here
Wakes on the moru of its hundredtn yeai,
Without both feeling and looking queer.
KHETORIOAL.
In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
(Ihis 18 a moral that runs at lar^e •
Take it.-You're welcome.-No extra charge.)
283
10,
First of November-the Earthquake^ay
There are traces of age in the one-hoss Ihay,
A general flavor of mild decay
But nothing local, as one may say
There could n't be~for the Deacon's art
Had made it so like in every part
e uoor was just as strong as the sills
And the panels just as strong as the floor, '
And he wh,pple-tree neither less nor more
And the back crossbar as strong as the fore,
And spnng, and axle, and hub encore
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out I
11. First of November, 'Fifty-five I
This morning the parson takes a drive
Mw, small boys, get out of the way I
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a raUailed, ewe-necked bay.
ffuddupf said the parson.-Off went they I
The parson was working his Sunday text-
Had got to yifthly, and stopped perplexed
A what the~Moses-was coming next.
All at once the horse stood still
Close by the meefn'-house on the' hill
-First a shiver, and then a thrill
Tiicn sonietiiing decidedly like a spill—
And the parson was sitting upon a rock.
12
234
THE SIXTH READER.
At half-pafit nine by the meet-n'-house clock—
Just the hour of the Earthquake shock I
13. What do you thmk the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground I
You Bee, of course, if you're not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once —
All at once, and nothing first —
Just as bubbles do when they burst.
End of the wonderful one-y^oss shay.
Logic is Logic. That's all I say.
HOLXBB.
11 A^
"^
100. LAST DATS OP PETER STUTVESANT.
TN process of time, the old Governor, like all other children
A of mortality, began to exhibit tokens of decay. Like an
aged oak, which, though it has long braved the fury of the
elements, and still retains its gigantic proportions, yet begins to
shake and groan with every blast — so was it with the gallant
Peter ; for though he still bore the port and semblance of what
be was in the days of his hardihood and chivalry, yet did age
Und infirmity begin to sap the vigor of his frame— but his
heart, that most unconquerable citadel, still triumphed un-
subdued.
2. With matchless avidity would he listen to every article
of intelligence concerning the battles between the English and
Dutch— still would his pulse beat high whenever he heard of
the victories of De Ruyter — and his countenance lower, and
his eyebrows knit, when fortune turned in favor of the English.
At length, as on a certain day he had just smoked his fifth
pipe, and was napping after dinner in his arm-chair, conquer-
ing the whole British nation in his dreams, he was suddenly
aroused liy a fearful ringing of bells, rattling of drums, and
tearing of cannon, that put all his blood in a ferment.
RHETORICAL.
285
3. But wheu he learned that these re'oicings were ir honor
of a great victory obtained by the combined English and
French fleets over the brave De Ruyter and the younger Von
Tronip, it went so much to his heart that he took to his bed,
and in lees than three days was brought to death's door by a
violent cholera morbus I But, even in this extremity, he still
displayed the unconquerable spirit of Peter the Headstrong;
holding out to the last gasp with the most inflexible obstinacy
against a whole army of old women, who were bent upon
driving the enemy out of his bowels, after a true Dutch mode
of defence, by inundating the seat of war with catnip and pen- 'v\j>^
nyroyal.
4. While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolution,
news was brought him that the brave De Ruyter had suffered
but little loss— had made good his retreat— and meant once
more to meet the enemy in battle. The closing eye of the old
warrior kindled at the words— he partly raised himself in bed
—a flash of martial fire beamed across his visage — he clenched
his withered hand, as if he felt ^within his gripe ^ that sword
which waved in triumph before the walls of Fort Christina,
and, giving a grim smile of exultation, sank back upon his »^*^
pillow and expired.
5. Thus died Peter Stuyvesant, a valiant soldier — a loyal
subject — an upjright Governor, and an honest Dutchman — who
wanted only a few empires to desolate^ to have been immortal-
ized as a hero I
6. His funeral obsequies were celebrated .with the utmost
grandeur and solemnity. The town was perfectly emptied of
its inhabitants, who crowded in throngs to pay the last sad
honors to their good old Governor. ' All his sterling qualities
rushed in full tide upon their recollections, while the memory of
his foibles and his faults had expired with him. The ancient
burghers contended who should have the privilege of bearing
the pall ; the populace strove who should walk nearest to the
bier — uud the melancholy procession was closed by a number
of gray-headed negroes, who had wintered and summered in
, Wv<i/U<.
286
THB HIXTH HEADER.
the household of their departed master for the greater part of
a century.
t. With sad and gloomy countenancea the multitude
X gathered around the grave. They dwelt with mournful
['Vv^H,'j * hearts on the sturdy virtues, the signal services, and the
gallant exploits of the brave old worthy. They recalled with
Ji,>, . secret upbraidings their own factiotis opposition to his govern.
ment; and many an ancient burgher, whose phlegmatic features
had never been known to relax, nor his eyes to moisten, was
now observed to pnflf a pensive pipe, and the big drop to et^al
down his cheek, while he muttered, with affectionate accent
and melancholy shake of the head, " Well don I — Hardkrppig
Peter beu gone at last I" Ibtdia
!^*y^
101. 8TEASL
OVER the billows and over the brine, H'-
Over the water to Palestine 1
Am I awake, or do I dream?
Over the Ocean to Syria by steam I
My say H sooth by this right hand
A steamer brave
Is on the wave.
Bound, positively, for the Holy Landt
Godfrey of Boulogne, and thou,
Richard, lion-hearted king,
Candidly inform us, now,
Did you ever?
No, you never
Could have fancied such a thing.
S. Never such vociferations
xiutstcd your iniagiiiatious
As the ensuing—
■■>fe.
KHETORIOAL.
287
"Ease her, stop her !"
• Any gentleman for Joppa?"
" Mascus, 'MascuB ?" " Ticket, please, Sir."
"Tyre or Sidon?" "Stop her, ease her !»
" Jerusalem, 'lem I 'lem 1"— '< Shur I Shur I"
"Back her I" "Stand clear, I say, old file I"
" What gent or lady's fo. the Nile,
Or Pyramids?" " Thebes I Thebes I Sir I"
"Steady j" ^ "Now where's that party for EngediP
a. Pilgrims holy, Red Cross Knights,
Had you e'er the least idea,
Even in your wildest flights,
Of a steam trip to Judea f
What next marvel time will tiioir,
It is diflBcult to say
" Buss," perchance, to Jericho ;
"Only sixpence all the way 1"
Cabs in Soly^^a may ply,
'Tis not an unlikely tale ;
And f^om Dan the tourist hie LJtPi.
Unto Beersheba by rail. Powm.
103. ORIGIN OF THE CITY OP NEW YORK.
fTHE sage Oloffe dreamed a dream— and lo, the good St
Nicholas came riding over the tops of the trees in that
«elf.8ame wagon wherein he brings his yearly presents to
children, and he came and descended hard by where the heroes
of Oommunipaw had made their late repast.
2. And the shrewd Van Kortlandt knew him by his broad
hat, his long pipe, and the resemblance which he bore to the
Sgure on the bow of the Goede Vrouw. And he lit his pipe
by the fire and sat himself down and smoked ; and as he
>n
238
THE SIXTH READER.
jiW^
l/C
Bmokod, tho snioko from his pipe ascended into the air, an*d
spread like a cloud overhead.
8. And Oloffe bethought him, and ho hastened and clin)!)<.d
up to the top of one of the tallest trees, and saw that the
smoke spread over a great extent of country— and as he con-
Bid(!red it more attentively, be fancied that the great voluni,,
of smoke assumed a variety of marvellous forms, where in dim
obscurity he saw shadowed out palaces, and domes, and lofty
spires, all of which lasted but a moment, and then faded away
until the whole rolled off, and nothing but the green woods
were left.
4. And when St. Nicholas had smoked his pipe, he twisted
it in his hat^band, and laying his finge" beside his nose, gave
the astonished Van Kortlandt a very significant wink, then
mounting his wagon, he returned over tbe tree-tops and dis-
appeared. And Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly
instructed, and he aroused iiis companions and related to them
his dream, and he interpreted it that it wao the will of St
Nicholas that they should settle down and build the city here.
6. And that the smoke of the pipe was a type how vast
should be the extent of the city ; inasmuch as the volumes of
Its smoke should spread over a wide extent of connt.ry. And
they all with one voice assented to this interpretation except
ing Mynheer Ten Broeck, who declared the meaning try be thai
It should be a city wherein a little fire should occasion a gre:it
smoke, or, in (rther words, a very Vitj ..ring little city -hot
which interpretations have come strangely to pass I lavwa
108. THE DISMISSAL OF GENERAL VON POFFENBURGtt
yHE vigilant Peter the Headstrong was not to be deceived
■*- Sending privately for the commander-in-chief of all the
!r/r' """^ ^''^'''^ ^f '"■'^ *" ^'^ ^^''^' &ar«'8h<>d with the
0!i^,.nrn;iry jjioua oaths, pruLusi;uiun8, and ejacujations—
"^arkee, comrade," cried he, "though by your own aocuunt
KHETOIUCAL.
289
you aro the, rnoHt brave, upright, and honorable man in tha
ffhohi province, yet do you lie under the ini8f.>rtuue of being
damnably traduced and immeasurably despiaed.
2. " Now, though it is certainly hard to punish a man for his
.sfcrtunes, and though it is very ponsiblo you aro totally in-
nocent of the crimes laid to your charge, yet as Heaven, at
resent, doubtless for some wise purpose, sees fit to withheld 'JiC^
all proofs of your innocence, far bo it from me to counteract
Its sovereign will. Besides, I cannot consent to venture my
arinic-8 with a commander whom they despise, or to trust the
weltare of my people to a champion whom they distrust
3. "Retire, therefore, my friend, from the irksome toils and
cares of public life ^^ ith this comforting refloction-that if
guilty, you are but enjoying your just reward-and if innocent
you are not the first great and good man who has most wrong!
fully been slandered and maltreated in this wicked world—
ioubtless to be better treated in a better world, where there
shall be neither error, calumny, nor persecution. In the mean
time, let me never see your face again, for I have a horribly
antipathy to the countenances of unfortunate great m, . ake
yourself."
iBnHOt
104, THE HEIGHT OF RIDICULOUH.
"I WROTE some lines, once on a time,
-■- In wondrous merry mood,
And thought, as usual, men would sfty
They were exceeding good.
8. They were so queer, so very queer,
I laugh'd as I would die;
Albeit in the general way <lf*^i^w<,
A sober man am I,
8. I caird my servant, and he came;
How kind it was of him,
940
f^^^.X'c,
THE SIXTH RBADBK.
To mind a slender man like me,
He of the mighty limb 1
4. "These to the printer," I exclaimed,
And in ray humorous way,
I added (as a trifling jest),
"There'll be the deuce to pay"
6. He took the paper, and I watched,
And saw him peep within ;
At the first line he read, his face
Was all upon the grin. 4,^v.a^
«. He read the next ; the grin grew broad,
And'ishot from ear to ear ;
He read the third ; a chuckling noise
I now began to hear.
t. The fourth, he broke into a roar ;
The fifth, his waistband split ;
The sixth, he burst five buttons off.
And tumbled in a fit. c^
8. Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye,
I watched that wretched man.
And since, I never dare to write
As funny as I can. ^^^^^
|V»>\>'
105. CX)DNTBT EXCUBSION.
{An anraslng extract, describing the eflforts of Mr. Pickwick and his ihnt
Menda to ride and drive.]
■jITR. PICKWICK found that his three companions had risen,
- — and were waiting iiis arrival to commence breakfast;
which was ready laid in tempting displav. They sat down to
RHETORICAL. ,
2^1
the meal ; and broiled ham, egg.\ tea, coffee, and sundrie s. ^W •
began to disappear with a rapidity which /at once bore testi-
mony to the excellence of the fare, and the appetites of its
contiinners.
2. "Now about Manor Farm," said Mr. Pickwick. "How
shall we go?" "We had better consult the waiter, perhaps,"
said Mr, Tupman ; and the waiter was sunniioned accord
ingly. "Dingley Dell, gentlemen ?— Fifteen miles, gentle-
men—cross road.— Post-chaise, sir?" " Post-chaise won't hold
more than two," said Mr. Pickwick. "True, sir — beg your"
pardon, sir.— Very nice four-wheel chaise, sir — seat for two
ijehind — one in front for the gentleman that drives — oh ! beg
your pardon, sir — that'll only hold three."
3. " What's to be done ?" said Mr. Snodgrass. " Perhaps
one of the gentlemen like to ride, sir?" suggested the waiter,
looking towards Mr. Winkle ; " very good saddle-horses, sir-
any of Mr. Wardle's men coming to Rochester, bring 'em
back, Kir." '• The very thing," said Mr. Pickwick. " Winkle,
will you go on horseback ?"
4. Now Mr. Winkle did entertain considerable misgivings, yv*A*vC
in the very lowest recesses of his own heart, relative to his
equestrian skill ; but, as he would not have them even sus-
pected on any account, he at once replied with great hardi-
hood, "Certainly. I should enjoy it of all things." Mr.
Winkle had rushed upon hia fate; there was no resource. ^ '^^^
"Let them be at the door by eleven," said Mr. Pickwick.
"Very well, sir," replied the waiter.
5. The waiter retired ; the breakfast concluded ; and the
lavellers ascended to their respective bedrooms, to, prepare
iange of clothing, to take with them on their approaching
ipeditiou. Mr. Pickwick had made his preliminary arrauge-
ients, and was looking over the coffee-room blinds at the kUw^u.
-asscngers in the street, when the waiter entered, and an- '^
iouriccd that the chaisa vyas ready — an announcement which
the vehicle itself confirmed, by fortliwith appearing before the
coffee-room blinds aforesaid.
B42
THE SIXTH READER.
J^
iWi'^r -
6. It was a curious little green box on four wheels, with i
low place like a wine-bin for two behind and an elevated
perch for one in front, drawn by an immense brown horse, dig.
playing great symmetry of bone. An hostler stood near it,
holding by the bridle another immense horse— apparently a
near relative of the animal in the chaise—ready saddled foi
Mr. Winkle.
7. "Bless my soul I" said Mr. Pickwick, as they stood upon
the pavement while the coats were being put in. " Bless my
soul ! who's to drive? I never thought of that." " Oh 1 you
of course," said Mr. Tupman. " Of course," said Mr. Snod'
grass. " 1 1" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. " Not the slightest
fear, sir," interposed the hostler. " Warrant him quiet, sir ; a
hinfant in arms might drive him." "He don't shy, does he?"
inquired Mr. Pickwick. *'Shy, sir?— he wouldn't shy if he
was to meet a vagin-load of monkeys, with their tails burnt
off."
8. The last recommendation was indisputable. Mr. Tupman
and Mr. Snodgrass got into the bin ; Mr. Pickwick ascended
to his perch, and deposited his feet on a floor-clothed sbelff
" erected beneath it, for that purpose." " Now, shiny Villiam "
said the hostler to the deputy-hostler, "give the gen'lm'n
the ribbin.." "Shiny Villiam''— so called, probably, from hin
sleek hair and oily countenance— placed the reins in Mr.
Pickwick's left hSnd ; and the upper hostler thrust a whip
into his right. ~^ ^
9. "Woo!" cried Mr. Pickwick, as the tall quadruped
evinced a decided inclination to back into the coffee-room
window. " Woo 1" echoed Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass,
from the bin. "Only his playfulness, gen'lm'n," said the
head-hostler, encouragingly; "jist kitch hold on him, Villiara."
The deputy restrained the animal's impetuosity, and the prin-
cipal ran to assist Mr. Winkle in mounting. " Tather side, sir,
if you please." " Blowed if th« o-p..»!m'r. i.r^..r.H „ „„**.„'. .._'
- - - - — jj , .^.-iii I- m j^ulim up
on the wrong side," whispered a grinning post-boy to the i»
expressibly gratified waiter.
RHETORICAL.
Mt
10. Mr. Winkle, thus instructed, climbed into his saddle
with about as much difficulty as he would have experienced
la getting up the side of a first-rate man-of-war. "All right?"
inquired Mr. Pickwick, with an inward presentiment that it
was all wrong. "All right," replied Mr. Winkle, faintly. 'W
"Let 'era go," cried the hostler. "Hold him in, sir;" and
away went the chaise and the saddle-horse, with Mr. Pick-
wick on the box of the one, and Mr. Winkle on the back of
the other, to the delight and gratification of the whole inn-
jard, ^'^
106. COUNTRY EXCURSION— (Contiitoed).
"II^HAT makes him go sideways?" .: Mr. Snodgrass in,
** the bin to Mr. Winkle in the .add!'. "I can't imag-
ine," replied Mr. Winkle. His horse was going up the street
in the most mysterious manner — side first, with his head
towards one side of the way, and his tail to the other.
2. Mr. Pickwick had no leisure to observe eiiher this, oi
any other particular, the whole of his faculties being coucen
trated in the management of the animal attached to the
chaise, who displayed various peculiarities, highly interesting
to a by-stander, but by no means equally amusing to any one
^ seated behind him. Besides constantly jerking his head up i«.'>»v>*^
in a very unpleasant and uncomfortable manner, and tugging ^^^^(j^
at the reins to an extent which rendered it a matter of great
difficulty for Mr. Pickwick to hold them, he had a singular , ,
propensity for darting suddenly every now and then to the **'~''*'^*^'^
side of the road^ then stopping short, and then rushing for-
ward for some minutes at a speed which it was wholly im
possible to control.
3. "What can he mean by this?" said Mr. Snodgrass, when
tlie horse had executed this manoeuvre for the twentieth time.
"I don't know," replied Mr. Tupraan ; "ll looks very like shy.
ing, don't it?" Mr. Snodgrass was about to reply, when ha
was interrupted by a shout from Mr. Pickwick.
£44
THE SIXTH READER,
^'
' 4. " Woo !" said that gentleman, •' I have dropped nij
whip." " Winkle," criec' Mr. Snodgrass, as the equostriun
came trotting up on the tall horse, with his hat over his ears
and shaking all over, as if he would shake to pieces, witii the
viole"^e of the exercise. "Pick up the whip, there's a good
fellow." Mr. Winkle pulled at the bridle of the taW horse till
he was black in the face ; and having at length succeeded in
stopping him, dismounted, handed the whip to Mr. Pickwick
and, grasping the reins, prepared to remount,
5. Now whether the tall horse, in the natural playfulness ot
his disposition, was desirous of having a little innocent re-
creation with Mr. Winkle, or whether it occurred to him that
he could perform the journey as much to his own satisfaction
without a rider as with one, are points upon which, of course
we can arrive at no definitive and distinct conclusion. By
whatever motives the animal was actuated, certain it is
that Mr, Winkle had no sooner touched the reins, than he
slipped them over his head, and darted backwards to their
full length.
6. '"Poor fellow," said Mr, Winkle, soothingly, — "poor fcl
low — good old horse." The " poor fellow" was proof againHt
flattery: the more Mr, Winkle tried to get near him, the
more he aidled away ; and, notwithstanding all kinds of coax-
ing and wheedling, there were Mr, Winkle and the horse
going round and round each other for ten minutes, at the end
of which time each was at precisely the same distance from
the other as when they ISrst commenced — an unsatisfactory
sort of thing under any circuuistances, but particularly so in a
lonely road, where no assistance can be procured.
_^7, "What am I to do?" shouted Mr, Winkle, after the
y,y^ dod ging had been prolonged for a considerable time, " What
am I to do if I can't get on him I'- "You had better lead him
till we come to a turnpike," replied Mr. Pickwick from the
chaise. " But he won't come," roared Mr. Winkle, " Do come
and hold iiim."
8, Mr. Pickwick was the very personation of kindueis and
uyrwi.
BHETGEIOAL.
2i5
humanity • he threw the reins on the horse's back ; and hav-
ing descended from his seat, carefully drew the chaise into
the hedge, lest any thing should come along the road, and
stepped back to the assistance of his distressed companion,
leaving Mr. Tnpman and Mr. Snodgrass in the vehicle.
9. The horse no sooner behe'd Mr. Pickwick advancing
owards him, with the chaise-whip in his hand, than he ex-
changed the rotary motion in which he had previously in-
dulged for a retrograde movement of so very detei-mined a
character that it at once drew Mr. Winkle, who was still at
the end of the bridle, at a rather quicker rate than fast walk-
ing, in the direction from which they had just come. Mr.
Pickwick ran to his assistance ; but the faster Mr. Pickwick
ran forward, the faster the horse ran backward.
10. There was a great scraping of feet, and kicking up of
the dust ; and at last Vv. Winkle, his arms being nearly __.
pulled out of their sockets, fairly let go his hold. The horso- i'^u
paused, stared, shook his head, turned round, and quiet'/
trotted home to Rochester, leaving Mr. Winkle and Mr. Pick-
wick gazing on each other with countenances of blank dis-
may. A rattling noise at a little distance attracted their
attention. They looked up. "Bless my soul!" exclaimed
the agonized Mr. Pickwick, " there's the other horse running
11. It was but too true. The animal was startledby thb
noiie, and the reins were on his back. The result may be
guessed. He tore off with the four-wheeled chaise behind iM'^
him, and Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass in the four-wheeled
chaise. The heat was a short one. Mr. Tupman threw him-
gelf into the hedge, Mr. Snodgrass followed his example ; the
hursu dashed the four-wheeled chaise against a wooden bridge,
separated the wheels from the body, and the bin from the
perch, and finally stood stock-still to gaze upon the ruin he
had made,
12. The first care of the two unspilt friends was to extricate
their unfortunate companions from their bed of quickset— a x^jua
i
«ffl^ f > - c
246
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
process which gave them the unspeakable satisfaction of diV
covering that they had sustained no injury beyond sundry
rents in their garments and various lacerations from the
brambles. The next thing to be done was to unharness th«
horde. This complicated process having been effected, tlir
party walked slowly forward, leading the horse among them
»nd abandoning the chaise to its fate Dickens.
107. SIR HUDIBRAS.
lln this most witty poem Hudlbras, a EepubUcan offlcor daring tlie period
of the Commonwealth in, England, Is represeited as saUying out for the entire
reformation of the kingdom. Before giving m account of his doughty ex-
ploito, his character is thus described :]
TTE was in logic a great critic,
Aa Profoundly skill'd in analytic:
He could distinguish and divide
A hair 'twixt south and southwest side;
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute;
He'd run in debt by disputation,
And pay with ratiocination:
2. All this by syllogism true,
In mood and figure he would do.
For rhetoric he could not ope
His mouth, but out there flew a trope;
And when he happen'd to break off
r th' middle of his speech, or cough,
H» had hard words ready to show why,
And tell what rules he did it by;
8. Else when with greatest art he spoke,
You'd think he talk'd like other folk;
For all a rhetorician's rules
Teach nothing but to name his toola. IV'M
BHETOBIGAL.
347
But when he pleased to show 't, his speech
lu loftiness 6f sound was rich ;
A Babylonish dialect,
Which learned pedants much affect;
4. It was a party-color'd diess
Of patch'd and p ieba ld languages ; ^UfA^l , jaL,
'Twas "English, cut on Greek and Latin,
Like fustian, heretofore, on satin. Umi-
In mathematics he was greater
Tiian Tycho Brahe or Brra Pater; '-"
For he, by geometric scale,
Could take the size of pots of ale ;
6. Resolve by signs and tangents straight,
If bread and butter wanted weight ;
And wisely tell what hour o* th' day
The cl>ck does strike by algebra.
Besides, he was a shrewd philosophr,:', -a)
And had read every text and gloss over;
Whae'er the crabbed'st author hath,
He understood b' implicit faith ;
• Whatever skeptic could inquire for,
For every why he had a wherefore ;
Knew more than forty of them do,
As far as words and terms could go;
All which he understood Jb^jrotg,. w r^i^^t^
And, as occasion served, would quote ;
No matter whether right or wrong,
They might be either said or sung. Bctmb.
108. MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.
[The following is a fine example of irony.]
WE owe the ancients something. You have read
• • ineir TrCrin.a, uu uuuu^--=>ai. iuuoi, la a xrunsiauun j
Yet there was argument in what he said,
I scorn equivocation or evasion,
248
THE SIXTH JtEADKR.
And own, it must, in candor, be confess'd,
They were an ignorant set of men at best.
i. 'Twas their misfortune to be born too soon
By centuries, and in the wrong place, too;
They never saw a steamboat or balloon,
Velocipede, or Quarterly Review;
Or wore a pair of Back's black satin breechn.
Or read an almanac, or C n's speeches.
8. In short, in every thing we far outshine them—
Art, science, taste, and talent; and a stroll 'vcj.^
Through this enlightened city would refine 'em
More than ten years' hard study, of the whole
Their genius has produced, of rich and rare- -
God bless the corporation and the mayor I
• 4. And on our City Hall a justice stands ;
A neater form was never made of board •
Holding majestically in her hands
fT
A pair of steelyards and a wooden sword, o^i-^...
And looking down with complaisant civility
Emblem of dignity and durability. Hallbok.
109. SQUIRE BULL AND HIS SON JONATHAN.
TOHN BULL was a choleric old fellow, who held a good
j}^ O manor in the middle of a great mill pond, and which, by
reason of its being quite surrounded by water, was generally
called BuUock Island. Bull was an ingenious man, an exceed-
ingly good blacksmith, a dexterous cutler, and a notable
weaver and pot-baker besides. He also brewed capital porter,
tfle, and small-beer, and was, in fact, a sort of Jack-of-alt
RHETORICAL.
249
trades, and good at each. In addition to these, he was a hearty
follow, an excellent bottle-companion, and passably honest as
times go.
2. But what tarnished all these qualities was a very quarrel-
some, overbearing disposition, which was always getting him
into some scrape or other. The truth is, he never heard of a"**
jiarrel going on among his neighbors but his fingers itched
b l)e in the thickest of them ; so that he was hardly ever
seen without a broken head, a black eye, or a bloody nose.
Such was Squire Bull, as he was commonly called by thejs
country people, liis neighbors — one of those odd,''*te8ty, grum-
bling, boasting old codgers, that never get credit for what they
are, because they are always pretending to be what they are
not- ^vvv
3. The Squire was as ti^t a hand to deal with in doors as
out. Sometimes treating his family as if they were not the
same flesh and blood, when they happened to differ with him
in certain mattors. One day he got into a dispute with his
youngest son Jonathan, who was familiarly called Brother
Jonathan, about whether churches ought to bo called churches
or meeting-houses, and whether steeples were not an abomina-
tion.
4. The Squire, either having the worst of the argument, or
being naturally impatient of contradiction (I can't tell which),
fell into a great passion, and swore he would physic such no-
tions out of the boy's noddle. So he went to some of his doc-
tors, and got them to draw up a prescription made up of thirty-
nine different articles, many of them bitter enough to some
palates. This he tried to make Jonathan swallow, and finding
lie made villainous wry faces, and would not do it, fell upon
Inni and beat him like fury.
5. After this he made the house so disagreeable to him, that
Jonathan, though as hard as a pine-knot, and as tough as*'***'**"
loathcr, ivoM bear it no dinger. Tasking his gun anci axe, he
put himself in a boat, and paddled over the mill-pond to some
new lands to which the Squire pretended some sort of claim,
tfftO
THE SIXTH READER.
rn'
.v«*-
|>/JtM.
intending to seffle them and build a meeting-house without a
Bteeplo as soon as he grow rich enough.
6. When he got over, Jonathan found the land was quite in
a state of nature, covered with wood, and inhabited by nobody
but wild beasts. But being a lad of mettle, he took his axe
on one shoulder and his gun on the other, marched into tlie
thickest of the wood, and clearing a place, built a log cabin.
Pursuing his labors, and handling his axe like a notable wooda-
man, he, in a few years, cleared the land, which he laid out
into thirteen good farms; and building himself a fine frame
house, about half finished, began to be quite snug and com-
fortable. euv~— ^*«,
T. But Squire Bull, who was getting old and stingy, and,
besides, was in want of money, on account of his having lately
been made to pay swinging damages for assaulting his neigli.
bors and breaking their heeds— the Squire, I say, finding that
Jonathan was getting well to do in the world, began to be
very much troubled about his welfare ; so he demanded that
Jonathan should pay him a good rent for the land which he
had cleared and made good for something.
8. He trumped up I know not what claim against him, and,
under different pretences, managed to pockcH all Jonathan's
honest gains. In fact, the poor lad had not a shilling left for
holiday occasions ; and, had it not been for the filial respect
he felt for the old man, he would certainly have refused to sub-
mit to such impositions. But, for all this, in a little time Jon-
athan grew up to be very large of his age, and became a tall,
stout, double-jointed, broad-footed cub of a fellow, awkward
in his ^it and simple in his appearance, but showing a lively,
shrewd look, and having the promise of great strength when
he should get his full growth.
9. He was rather an odd-looking chap, in truth, and had
irgwj^'^- '"^*"y <li«^i' ways. Like the old Squire, he was apt to be blus-
AVJ^ '^^'^'"^ '"^"^ "^^"cy » but in the main was a peaceable sort of
careless fellow, that would quarrel with nobody if you only
let him alone. While Jonathan was outgrowing bis strength.
>*•
:.^
^r
>J^
^'
; fwA;
1 jn^itii
RHETORICAL.
251
Bull kept on picking his pocketH of every penny he could
scrape together ; till at last one day, when the Squire wag
even more than usually pressing in his demands, which he ac-
companied with threats, Jonathan started up in a furious pas-
sion, and threw the tea-kettle at the old man's head.
10 The choleric Bull was hereupon exceedingly enraged
and aftei calling the poor lad an undutiful, ungrateful, rcb(;l
lious rascal, seized him by the collar, and forthwith a furious
Bcuffl6 ensued. This lasted a long time ; for the Squire, thnngh
in years, was a capital boxer, and of most excellent bottoi^.
At last, however, Jonathan got him under ; and before ho
would let him up, made him sign a paper, giving up all claims
to the farms, and acknowledging the fee-simplt; to be in Jona-
than forever. v^lU^ » t «- t»
J. E. Paulsino.
110. AN AMUSING ANECDOTE.
AF Stuart, the American painter, this amusing anecdote is
yj related. He had put up at an inn, and his companions
were desirous, by putting roundabout questions, to find out
his calling or profession. Stuart answered, with a grave face
uaH serious tone, that he sometimes dressed gentlemen's and
ladies' hair. At that time, high-cropped pomatumed hair was
all the fashion.
2. "You are a hair-dresser, then?" "What," said he, "do
I look like a barber?" "I beg your pardon, sir, but' I in-
ferred it from what you said. If I mistook you, may I take
the liberty to ask what you are, then?" " Why, I sometimes
brush a gentleman's coat or hat, and sometimes adjust a
cravat."
3. "Oh, you are a valet, then, to some nobleman?" "A
valet 1 Indeed, sir, I am not. I am not a servant. To be
flure, I make coats and waistcoats for gentlemen." "Oh, you
are a tailor?" "A tailor! do I look like a tailor? I assure
you, I never handled a goose, other than a roasted one."
4. By this time they were all ii. a roar. "What are you,
M
V
262
THE 8IXTH READER.
then?" said one. " I'll tell you," said Stuart. «' Be assured,
all I have said is liteniUy true. I dress hair, brush hats
and coats, ad^ .st a cravat, and make coats, waistcoats, and
breeches, and Jikowiae boots and shoes, at your service."'
5. "Oh, ho! a boot and shoemakir, after all 1" "Guess
gain, gentlemen. I never handled boot or shoe, but for my
wn feet and legs ; yet all I have told you is true." " We
my as well give up guessing." " Well, then, I will tell you,
upon my honor as a gentleman, ray bona Jide profession. I
^ get my bread by making faces."
\fU^ 6. He then screwed his countenance, and twisted the lioea-
raents of his visage, in a manner such as Samuel Foote or
f^U ^'"^'"'"^ Matthews might have envied. His companions, nftor
t^"*! loud peals of laughter, each took credit to himself for hav
ing suspected that the gentleman belonged to the theatre,
and they all knew he must be a comedian by profession;'
when, to their utter astonishment, he assured them that he
was never on the stage, and very rarely saw the inside of a
play-house, or any similar place of amusement. They all now
looked at ';ach other in utter amazement.
T. Before parting, Stuart said to his companions : " Gentle-
men, you will find that all I have said of my various employ.
ments is comprised in these few words : I am a portrait
rninter. If you will call at my place in London, I shall be
ready and willing to brush you a coat or hat, dress your
hair a la mode, supply you, if in need, with a wig of any
Isl^NMt^- fashion or dimensions, accommodate you with boots or shoes,
I \. give you ruffles or cravat, and make faces for you."
111. FAME.
r\E, who shall lightly say that fame
^ Is nothing but an empty name, V\A-
While in that sound there is a charm.
The nerves to brace, the heart to warm;
RHETORICAL.
268
As, thinking of the mighty dead,
The young from slothful couch will start,
And vow, with lifted hands outspread, Wv^^
Like them to act a noble part? '
2. Oh, who shall lightly say that fame
Is nothing but an empty name.
When, but for those, our mighty dead,
All ages past a blank would be f
Sunk in Oblivion's murky bed — >>v^'i*>^-
A desert bare — a shipless sea I
They are the distant objects seen,
The lofty marks of what hath been.
8. Oh, who shall lightly say that fame
Is nothing but an empty name,
When memory of the mighty dead
To earth-worn pilgrim's wistful eye
The brightest rays of cheering shed.
That point to immortality ? Joanna Bailuk
■/
lid. LIFE.
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
" Life is but an empty dream 1"
For the soul is dead that slumbers, ^rM^-^J^
And things are not what they seem.
"tiru-v
2. Life is real I Life is earnest !
And the grave is not its goal: 'Vn^■rX
" Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
8. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow.
Is our destined end or way ;
254
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us further than to-day.
4. Art is long, and time is fleeting ; ^».nc
And our hearts, though stout and brave.
Still, like muffled drums, are beating fe^J
Funeral marches to the grave. ^^^^
6. In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle:
Be a hero in the strife 1
6. Trust lib Future, howe'er pleasant :
Let the dead Past bury its dead :
Act — act in the living present,
Heart within, and God overhead !
7. Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of Time ;—
8. Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,' ^Jj^ ivu:..
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,'
See-ag, shall take heart again.
•. Let us, then, be up and doinj^^
With a heart for any fate j
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to waUI Lohoihxow.
PART III.
ORATORICAL.
1. ORATORY AS AN ART.
ONE cause of our not excelling in oratory is our neglecting
to cultivate the art of speaking — of speaking our own
language. We acquire the power of expressing our ideas
almc^t insensibly ; we consider it as a thing natural to us ; we
do not regard it as an art ; but it is an art, a difficult art, an
intricate art ; and our ignorance-of that circumstance, or our
omitting to give it due consideration, is the cause of our de-
ficiency.
2. In the infant just beginning to articulate, you will ob-
serve every inflection that is recognized in the most accurate
treatise on elocution ; you will observe, further, an exact pro-
portion in its several cadences, and a speaking expression in
its tones. I say, you will observe these things in almost every
infant. Select a dozen men, men of education, erudition ; ask
thena to read a piece of animated composition. You will be
fortunate if you find one in the dozen that can raise or de-
press his voice, inflect or modulate it, as the variety of the
Biibjoct requires.
3. What has become of the inflections, the cadences, and
the modulation of the infant? They have not been exercised ;
they liave been teglected ; they have never been put into the
hands of the artist, that he might, apply them to his proper
use ; they have been laid aside, spoiled, abused ; and ten to
one they will never be good for any thing. If we consider tEa
256
THE SIXTH READER.
If^itt'
very early period at which we begin to exercise the faculty of
speech, and the frequency with which we exercise it, it mm
be a subject of surprise that so few excel in oratory. I,,
any enlightened community, you will find numbers skilled in
some particular science or art, to the study of which they do
not apply themselves till they had almost arrived at the sta^e
if manhood.
4. Yet with regard to the powers of speech— those powers
which the very second year of our existence generally calls
into action, the exercise of which goes on at our sports, our
studies, our walks, our very meals, and which is never long
suspended, except at the hour of refreshing sleep— with re-
gard to those powers, how few surpass their fellow-creatures
of common information and moderate attainments I how very
few desire distinction I how rarely does one attain eminence !
5. In common conversation, observe the advantage which
. the flftent speaker enjoys over the man that hesitates and
^v^-^-^ stumbles in discourse. With half his information, he has twice
his importance ; he commands the respect of his auditors • he
instructs and gratifies them. In the general transaction of
business, the same superiority attends him. He communicates
his views with clearness, precision, and effect ; he carries his
point by his mere readiness ; he concludes his treatise before
another man has set about it. Does he plead the cause of
friendship? how happy is his friend I Of charitv? how for-
tunate is the distressed I Should he enter the legislature of
his country, he proves himself the people's bulwark.
2. THE STUDY OF ORATORY IN GREECE AND ROME.
TN the ancient R(>public8 of Greece and Rome oratory was a
A necessary brunch of a finished education. A much smaller
prf>portiori of the citizens were educated than among us ; but
of these a much larger number became orators. No 'man
OKATORTCAL.
257
could hops for distinction or influence ^and yet slight this art.
The commanders of their armies were orators as well as sol
diers, and ruled as well by their rhetorioal as by their military
skill.
2. There was no trusting with them, as with us, to a natural
facility, or the acquisition of an accidental fluency by actual
practice. But they served an apprenticeship to the art. They
passed through a regular course of instruction in schools.
They submitted to long and laborious discipline. They exer-
cised themselves frequently both before equals and in the >jljU1jiu.
presence of teachers, who criticized, repined, rebuked, excited
emulation, and left nothing undone which art and perseverance
could accomplish. The greatest orators of antiquity, so far
from being favored by natural tendencies — except, indeed, in
their high intellectual endowments — had to struggle against
natural obstacles ; and, instead of growing up spontaneously
to their unrivalled eminence, they forced themselves forward
by the most discouraging artificial process.
3. Demosthenes combated an impediment in speech, an un-
gainliness of gesture, which at first drove him from the foruut
in disgrace. Cicero failed at first through weakness of lungs
and an excessive vehemence of manner, which wearied his
hearers and defeated his own purpose. These defects were
conquered by study and discipline. He exiled himself from
home, and luring his absence in various lands, passed not a
iay without a rhetorical exercise, seeking the masters who
were most severe in criticism, as the surest means of leading
him tc the perfection at which he aimed. Wibi.
3. ORATION ON THE CROWN.
[This has been ever regarded by the ablest critics as the greatest speech ol
llie (greatest orator. It Is virtually a justification of the orator's whole public
ife, and derives additional interest fi'om being the last great speech delivered
in Athens. It waa occasioued by tlie following event: After the battle of
Cliuronea tlie Athenians appointed Demosthenes to superintend the repairs
in the fortifications of their city, A portion of the expense Incurred he
258
THE SIXTH BEADER.
propo«aI was iUe^al. and ^ro:Zli:MnflZ^rC^^^^^^
reaLty to crush Demosthenes-his speech wa. a gCeffor'Sut n.
pones' reply was overwhelming. Ctesiphon was trfumphaX ac!l!d .'
-aSschines went Into banishment tn Ri.n^.» . ''*'"'*°"y acquitted and
rhcor,. He „„ce read D^m. ^^,^ ^'I'liTT' tT "
pre«elng their l«inilr.tlon, he Bald, "Ab, wh.t wonH 2,, ^ "^ """"■
yoa hewd the Uon u™^,..j ^ ^■. »"« »o»ld you lav. thougi,, |^
^UT, if I a^ accused for what I have actually doue, h„»
s^j\ . " "%'"" "■' "■™"g"-y'""d ba4a,„,-„',;:
States had g„«e off aud attached themselves to Philip ..d
he had becoce master at the same time of Eubm. Th;C
and Byzanfum? What think ye these impious ml t^TS
have .a,d or douof Said, doubtless, that the sZ.7l
abandoued-that they wished to join us and weTdrZ!
away that he had got command of the Helles^ by tL
Byza„t,„es, and become master „f the corn trade of Greece-
tbat a heavy neighbor-war had, by means of the tZT,
been brought ,„.o Attica-that the sea had become unuav II'
ble by the excursion of pirates from Eubma I ^
d.!; t M T''' ""^ ■■"* ""''■ =°™ «"«ffb, and a Kre.t
ct, mnltr-a, "'°''^'' "'"'*' """^' <^ itheni.n ,T
^^umnutor always-every way spiteful and f.ult-fl^dint
But th,s creature is a reptile by nature, that from t^bS
mng never d,d any thing honest or liberal ; a very apeX
traged-an, village (Enomaus. counterfeit orator."^
trvf ^ofd™""'"' '"«'y»" "'»')"«'=« beeatoyour cu»
nh ■ .''°" •'''/<'» ^Po^k.to us about the past? A, if ,
phys,c,an should visit his patient and not order o pt'cl
any thtng for the disease, but on the death of any onHta
4. Even the Hpf^^at 'T - — « »^ • -i, - •
you o-ro^r ^. " /'■" '° ^^''^ ^'"^^ 8bouId make
you groar~you accursed one I-by nothing that I have dona
OKATORIOAL.
259
will it appear to have befallen us. Consider it thus, Athe-
nians. Prom no embassy, on which I was commissioned by
you, did I ever come away defeated by the ambassadors of
Philip— neither from Thessaly nor from Ambracia, nor from
the kings of Thrace, nor from Byzantium, nor from any other
place, nor on the last recent occasion from Thebes ; but where
his ambassadors were vanquished with argument, he came with
arms and carried the day.
6. And for this you call me to account; and are not ashamed
ic jeer the same person for cowardice, whom you require -^ "^
Bingle-handed to overcome the might of Philip— and that too
by words. For what else had I at command ? Certainly not
the spirit of each individual, nor the fortune of t^t. army, nor
the conduct of the war, for which you would make me account-
able — such a blunderer are you I
6. Yet, understand me. Of what a statesman must be re-
bponsible, I deprecate it not. What are his functions? To
observe things in the beginning, to tbresee and foretell them
to others. This I have done : again, wherever he iinds delays,
backwardness, ignorance, jealousies, vices, inherent and un-
avoidable in communities, to contract them into the na- rowest
compass ; on the other hand, to promote unanimity, i. cad-
ship, and zeal in the discharge of duty.
1. All this, too, I have performed ; and no One can dis-
cover the least neglect on my part. Ask any man by what
means Philip achieved his successes, and he will answer,
"By his army, and by bribing and corrupting men in power."
Well, your forces were not under my command i " control ;
do that I cannot be questioned by any thing done in that
department.
8. Bu^ by refusing thip price of corruption, I have overcome
Phi:;^ ; fur, as the offerer of a bribe, if it be accepted, has vau-
qiiishf' the taker, so the person who refuses it, and is not
oirupted, has vanquished the person offering. Tiierefore ia
the commonwealth undefeated as far as I am concerned.
Dbmosthbmhl
960
THE SIXTH BEADER.
4. ORATION ON THE CROWN— (Contdtobd).
[Of the following extract, Lord Brougham Bays : " The fame of this iiolile
passage is great and univereal, It is of a beauty and a force made for all tlms
and all places,"]
/^F this basa and infamous conspiracy and profligacy — or
^-^^ rather, Athenians, if I am to speak in erirnest of I'li?
betrayal of Gvf^cian liberty — Athen^^ is by all mankind ac-
quitted, owing to my coonru'I i ; and I am acquitted by you.
Then do you ask me, MBJr.nee, by what I claim to be hon-
ored? I will tell you. Beca-sBC, while ail the statesmen in
Greece, beginning with your,f;\', have been corrupted, for-
merly by Philip, and now by Aiexandfr, me, neither oppor-
tunity, nor fair speeches, i^or large promises, nor hope, nor
fear, nor any thing else, could tempt nor induce to betray
aui^ht that I considered just and beneficial to my country.
2. Whatever I have advised my fellow-citizens, I have
never :<lvised like you, men, leaning as in a balance to the
side of profit ; all my proceedings have been those of a scnl
upright, holiest, and incorrupt ; intrusted with affairs of
greater magnitude than any of my contemporaries, I have
administered them all honestly and faithfully. Therefore do
I claim to be honored.
3. As £0 this fortification, for which you ridiculed me— for
the well and fo^se — ^I regard them as deserving thanks and
praise, and so they are ; but I place them nowhere near my
acts of administration. Not with stones, nor with bricks,
did I fortify Athens ; nor is this the ministry on which I most
pride myself. Would you view my fortifications aright?
You will find arms, and States, an^ posts, and harbors ; and
galleys, and horses, and men for their defence. These are the
bulwarks with which I protected Attica as far as was possi-
ble by human wisdom : with these T fortified our territories,
nut the circle of PirsBus nor the cit^ ■ lue. Nay, more, I was |j''
not beaten by Philip in estimates or preparations ; far from i{;
ORATORICAL.
261
bat tbc generals an./ f -rces of the allies were overcome by his
for»m=. Where arc ;he proofs of this? They are plain and
evident. _
Demosthenes.
8. PTJBLt'C SPIRIT OP THE ATHENIANS.
(In the i'i>or.<.?.efl agnlnst Philip, the eloquence of Demosthenes fused th
\thenia>;.. !,.s 5v wero, into one common unit. The whole assembly became
;.-. one ms .. -and had but one voice. Let us march against Philip Let
118 FIOUT FOR OUR LIBERTIES. LBT US CONQUER OR DIB I]
rpHE Athenians never were known to live contented in a
i- slavish though secure obedience to unjust and arbitrary
power. No ; our whole history is a series of gallant contests
f • pre-eminence : the whole period of our national existence
li. been spent in braving dangers, for the sake of glory and
reii >wn. And so highly do you esteem such conduct, as char-
acteristic of the Athenian spirit, that those of your ancestors
who were most eminent for it, are ever the most favorite
objects of your praise. And with reason : for, who can reflect,
without astonishment, on the magnanimity of those men who
resigned their lands, gave up their city, and embarked in their
ships, rather than live at the bidding of a stranger?
2. The Athenians of that day looked out for no speaker, no
general, to procure them a state of easy slavery. They had
the spirit to reject even life, unless they were allowed to
enjoy that life in freedom. For it was a principle fixed deeply
in every breast, that man was not born to his parents only
but to his count -. And mark the distinction. He who re
gards himself as born only to his parents, waits in passiv
subn-ssion for the hour of his natural dissolution. He who
c^ '■ u-s that he is the child of his country, also volunteers
t'. .. death rather than behold that country reduced to vas-
: :?e; and thinks those insults and disgraces which he must
M .'ore in a state enslaved, much more terrible than death.
3. Should I attempt to assert that it was I who inspired you
262
THE SIXTH BEADER.
With 8entimeiit8 worthy of your ancestors, I should meet the
JU8 resentment of every hearer. No : it is my point to sj
that such sentiments are properly your own ; that they were
he sentiments of my country long before my days. I du
but my share of merit in having acted on such prh.ciples d
i"g every part of my administration. He, then; who condemns
every part of my administration,-he who directs you to re
n.e with severity, as one who hath involved the State in te^^
rors anddangers,_while he labors to deprive me of pres
honors, robs you of the applause of all posterity. For if v
now pronounce that my public conduct hath not been right it
must be thought that you yourselves have acted wrong ;
BuTit'lnTbe'^'^^ '"'''''' ''-'' '' ''' -^^- «^ ^•--
4. No, my countrymen, it cannot be that you here acted
wrong in encountering danger bravely for the liberty and
safety of all Greece. No 1 I swear it by the spirit! ^-
Bires, who rushed upon destruction at Marathon I- by thu«e
Zl\T. rr' '' P^^*^^J-by those who fought the
sea-fight at Salamis l-by the men of Artemisiuml-by th
others 80 many and so brave, who now rest in our public
sepulchres 1-aIl of whom their country judged worthy of th
same honor ; ail, I say. not those only who were victorious.
And with reason ; what was the part of gallant men, they all
performed. Their success was such as the Supreme Ruler of
the universe dispensed to each
Dbmosthbnes.
6. A LAST APPEAL.
r\ MY countrymen, you must be firmly convinced in your
y minds, that Philip is at war with our State, and has
tt IV, fTr *'''' "'"' '^ '« ^"""^^^» -d hostile to
the whole of Athens, to the ground of Athens, and. I may
uua ro tne gods of Athens (may they exterminate himl), there
IS nothing which he strives and plots against so much as oui
ORATORICAL.
268
Constitution, nothing in the world that he is bo anxious about
18 Its destruction. And thereunto he is driven in some sort
by nfjcessity.
2. Consider. He wishes for empire: and believes you to be
his only opponents. He has been a long time injuring you, as
his own conscience beat informs him ; for by means of your
wssessions, which he is able to enjoy, he secures all the rest
of his kingdom :.had he given up Amphipolis and Potidrea, he
would not have deemed himself safe even in Macedonia. He
knows, therefore, both that he is plotting against you, and
that >ou are aware of it; and, supposing you to have com
mon sense, he judges that you detest him as you ought.
3. Besides these important considerations, he is assured
that, though he become master of every thing else, nothing
can be safe for him while you are under popular government :
should any reverse ever befall him (and many may happen to
mau), all who are now under constraint will come for refuge
to you. For you are not inclined yours^elves to encroach J^-|^CI
1 usurp dominign ; but famous rather for checking the
and
usurper than depriving him of his conquests, ever ready to
molest the aspirants for empire, and vindicate the liberty of
all natioii'5, He would not like that a. free spirit should pro-
ceed from Athens, to watch the occasions of his weakness ;
nor is such reasoning foolish or idle.
i. First, then, you must assume that he is an irreconcilable
enemy of our Constitution and democracy; secondly, you
must be convinced that all his operations and contrivances
are designed for the injury of our State. None of you can
b€ 80 silly as to suppose that Philip covets those miseries in VO-
TLrace (for what else can one call Drongilus, and Cabyle, and
Mastira, and the places which he is said now to occupy?),
and that to get possession of them he endures hardships, and
winters, and the utmost peril, but covets not the harbors of
Athens, the docks, the srallevs. the silver-m'n ^ the rA^-^.ti.ioa
of such value, the place and the glory— never may he or any
ather man obtain these by the conquest of our city I— or that
2Hi
THB aixru BHADEB.
he will suffer you to keep thtv- :.;,..; He, for the sake
of the barley and tli(^ millet in Thracian caverns, ho win-
ters in the midst of horror- Impossible. The object ol
that and every other enterprise of Philip is to become master
here.
5. You have quitted, Athenians, the poRi* .» i.; ^.m^:,
your ancestors left yud ■ you have been pt^rsuaded by those
politicians, that to sUinu foremost of the Greeks, to keep a
permanent force, an^l ledress injured nations, is all vanity and
idle expense ; you imagine that to live in quiet, to perform no
duty, to abandon one thing after another, and let strangers
*»cize on all, briuj,'; w^ith it a marvellous welfare and abundant
security. By such i.ieans a stranger has advanced to the
post which you ought to have occupied, has become prosper-
ous and great, and made large conquests : naturally enough.
6. A prize there was— uoUe, great, and gl )riou8— one for
which the mightiest States were contending all along; but aa
the Lacedaemonians were humbled, the Thebaus had their
hands full through the Phocian war, and wg took no regard •
he carried it off without competition. Tlie result has been to
others terror, to him a vast alliance and ey tended power-
while difficulties so many and so distressing surround the
Greeks, that even advice is not easy to be found,
Daat STHBNI8.
7, CICERO AND DEM0STHENE3 COMPARED.
J- nv>
me Demosthenes seems superior to Cicero. I
one in my admiration of the latter.
H<
. ield tn
^orn what'
ever he touches. He lends honor to speech. J ue words
as no one else can use them. His versatility bej> id de-
scription. H( ■ even concise and vehement when disposed
to be so,— as against Catiline, against Verres, against An-
tony. But we detect the eiabellishnients in his discourses.
Tlie art is marvellous, but it is not hidden. The orator doei
OUATORIOAL.
265
not, in h?8 concern for the Republic, forget himself, nor does he
allow himself to be foi-otten.
2 Derausthenes, on tlio contrary, seems to lose all con-
sciousness of himself, and to recognize only his country. He
dues not seek the beautiful ; he unconsciously creates it. He it*
superior to admiration. He uses language as a modest man
uses his garment— for a covering. He thunders, he lightens
he is like a torrent hurry ii:g all before it. We cannot criti
cize him, for we are in the sweep of his influence. We think
on what he says, not on how he says it. We lose sight of
the speaker ; we are occupied only with his subject.
Fknelon.
8. CATILINE DENOUNCED.
[Cicero, the greatest of the Roman orators, was bom 106 b. a. As an orator
ho ranks n' . lo Demosthenes. ' o rapidity with which ho composed hU
immortal discourses, uotwithstandi 'ho multiplicity and importance of the
business which oppressed him, did u prevent him bestowing on his style a
perfection so uncouii ,.- that It is as ei'>v to understand his Orations as It la
difficult, and perhaps even Impossible, n , aiislate them well. The Orationi
(igaiust Catiline and Verres are masterpieces of denunciatory eloquence. Hav-
lag taken part ag inst Antony, Cicero was prose d. lie was murdered by a
party of soldiers headed by Popllius Lienas, wh.. j he had formerly saved
by liis el(/quence. He perished In his sixty-fourth year. J
TTOW long, Catiline, wilt them abuse our patience? How
Al loDg al!s(j shuil thy madness elude u.s? Whither will thy
ungovernable audacity impel thee ? Could neither the nightly
garrison of the citadel, nor the watch of the city, nor the gen-
eral '. ...sternation, nor the congress of all good men, nor thir
strongly- fortified place where the Senate is held, nor the en-
raged couiitenan( .;s of those senators, deter thee from thj
imi .us designs? Dost thou not perceive that thy counsels
are .ill disc vued? Thinkest thou that there are any of us
igii it of thy transactions the past night, the place of
rendezvous;, thy coUecti-d associates ?
2. Alas, the times I alu^ the public morals! The Sen^ite
understands all this. The tuu^ul sees it, yet the traitor lives I
12
206
THE SIXTH READER.
u
Lives f Aye, and truly confronts ua Iiero in (council— takes pn i
in our deliberations— and, with liis measuring eye, rnarkH dii;
each man of us for slaughter I Anl wo all this while, streuii.
CUB that we are, think that wo have amply discharged cjur d*
^j^ ties to the State if we but shun this madman's sword and fury!
3. Long since, Catiline, ongiit the Consul to have iirdorei
thee to execution, and brought upon thine own head the mii
tliou hast been meditating against jthers I Tliere was tlia
virtue once in Rome, that a wicked citizen was held mor
execrable than the deadliest foe. We have a law still, Cuti-
- liue, for thee I Think not that we are powerless because
forbearing. We have a decree—though it rests among our
archives, like a sword in the scabbard — a decree by which tliji
life would be made to pay the forfeit of thy crimes,
4. And should I order thee to be instantly seized and put
to death, I make just doubt whether all good men would not
think it done rather too iate, than any man too cruelly. But
vMf for good reasons I will yet defer the blow long since deserved.
Then I will doom thee when no man is found so lost, so
wicked, nay, so like thyself, but shall confess that it was
justly dealt. While there is one man that dares defend thee,
live ! But thou shalt live so beset, so surrounded, so scru.
tiuized, by the vigilant guards that I have placed around thee,
that thou shalt not stir a foot against the Republic without
my knowledge.
6. There shall be eyes to detect thy slightest movement,
and ears to catch thy lowest whisper, of which thou shalt iio'
dream. The darkness of night shall not cover thy treason-
>.«^>. the walls of privacy shall not stifle its voice. Baffled on al
sides, thy most secret counsels clear as noonday, what canst
thou now have in view ? Proceed, plot, conspire as thou wilt
lAMswto^ there is nothing you can contrive, nothing you can propose,
nothing you can attempt, which I shall not know, hear, and
promptly understand. Thou shalt soon be made aware that I
am even more active in providing for the preservation of tna
■ State, than thou in plotting its destruction 1 CicEBa
ORATORICAL.
96r
». CATILINE EXPELLED.
IT length, Romans, wo are rid of Catilino ! We have
il driven him forth, drunk with f„.y, broathing mischief
threatening to revisit uh with fire and swoid He is go„e '
•le i8 fled ; he has escaped ; he has broken awav. No loncn./
within the very walls of the city, shall he plot her ruin. We
nave forced him from secret plots into open rebellion. The
bad citizen is now the avowed traitor. His flight is tin' con-
fession of his treason I Would that his attendants had not
been so few I
8. Be speedy, ye companions of his dissolute pleasures •
be speedy, and you may overtake him before night, on the
Aurelian road. Let him not languish, deprived of your so-
ciety. Haste to join the congenial crew that compose hia v,^^
army; his army, I say,— for who doubts that the army under ^
Manlius expect Catiline for their leader ? And such an army f
Outcasts from honor, and fugitives from debt ; gamblers and
felons ; miscreants, whose dreams are of rapine, murder, and
conflagration I
3. Against these gallant troops of your adversary, prepare
Romans, your garrisons and armies ; and first, to that ^.J.
maimed and battered gladiator oppose your consuls -and ,'en-
erals; next, against that nn'serable outcast horde, lead forth
the strength and floweB of all Italy I
4. On the one side chastity contends ; on the other, wanton-
iness: here purity, there pollution; here integrity there
I treachery; here piety, there profaneness; here constancy, there
age; here honesty, there baseness; here continence, there
ust; m short, equity, temperance, fortitude, prudence, stru -
gle with iniquity, luxury, cowardice, rashness; every virtue'"""^
with every vice; and, lastly, the contest lies between well
grounded hope and absolute despair. In such a conflict,
I were even human aid to fail, would not the immortal gr^ds em=
(power such conspicuous virtue to triumph over such^compli-
|catedvice?
ClOSBU.
268
THE SIXTH READER.
JVIn-^'^^'TI
10. THE QUARREL SCENE FROM JULIUS CMSA^.
Enter Caasius, Troboiiius, Titinius, Piudanis.
Gas. Most nolle brother, you have done me wroug
Bra Judge me, you gods ! Wrong I mine enemies F
-^nd If not so, how should I wrong a brother?
Cas Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs;
^nd when you do them, ''^-^
Bru. CassiuH, be content:
Speak your griefs softly-I do know you well :_
Before the eyc.s of both our armies here,
Which should perceive nothing but love 'from us
Let us not wrangle: Bid them move away
ihen ,n my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs,
And 1 will give you audience.
Gas. Pindarus,
Bid your commanders lead their char-.n-s off
A little from this a-round rw ^ r^- ,
»».« \i , u . . [Exeunt Pmdaras,
Bru. Metellus, do the like-— rjir . nr „
And let no man " ^^'^'^"'^^ ^^^^^'""«-
Come to our tent, till we have done our conference. [H^-euM
Scene Il.—lhe tent of Brutus.
Enter Cassius and Brutus.
Gas That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this:
You have condenm'd and notea Lucius Pella
For taking I- ' , here of the Sardinians ; ,Lr^,
Wherein, my letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man, were slighted off
Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case.
Gas. In such a tin,e as this, it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear its comment
Bru. Let me tell you, Oassius, you vourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm •
Jv4>* H'W
.^V»«Vjil>u
ORATORICAL.
To sell and mart your offices for crdd
To undeservers. "
Cos. I an itching palm I
You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
«!f TK ^ ' '^'' 'P'^'^ "^^^ ^'«« y«"r last.
5m The name of Cassius honors this corruptiou,
4i.d chastisement doth therefore hide its head
Las. Chastisement!
5ru. Eemember March-the ides of March remember I
M not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ? I
What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, ,..^w
And not for justice? What, shall one of us ^
That struck the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers-shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes
And sell the mighty space of our large honor*
For so much trash as may be grasped thus? ^^
I had rather be a Jog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.
Cos. Brutus, bay not me ;
ril not endure it : I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.
Bm. Go to; you're not Cassius.
Cas. I am.
Bru. I say you are not.
Gas. Urge me no more: I shall forget myself-
Have mind upon your health, tempt m^e noTrther
Bru. Away, slight man I '
Crts. Is't possible?
Bru Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your ra.h choler? ..^...
Shall I be fr,ghted when a madman stares?
Cas. Ye godsl ye gods I Must I enrlpro ..n ^v:,.
270
THE SIXTH READER.
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are^
And make your bondmen tremble: Must I budge? '
Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch r^v.u.
Under your testy humor? By the gods, t.,^.^
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth^yea, for my laughter—
When you are waspish. (^^ 1
Cos. Is it come to this?
Bru. You say you are a better soldier;
Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well: for mine own part,
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
Cos. You wrong me, every way you wrong me, Brutus;
I said an older soldier, not a better:
Did I say better?
Bru. If you did, I care not,
Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me
Bru. Peace, peace: you durst not so have tempted him.
, Cas. I durst not?
Bru. No.
Cas. What I durst not tempt him?
Bru. For your life you durst not.
Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love •
I may do that I shall be sorry for.
Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for.
Tliere is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty.
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
Pc;: certain sums of gold, which you denied me ;
For I can raise no money by vile means;
No, Cassius, I had rather coin my heart.
And drop my blood for drachms, than to wring t-rU-
-From the hard hands of neaHants fhcir vHo +ro«K
By any indirection. I did send
ORATORICAL.
vn
To you for gold tc pay my legions,
Which you denied me : Was that done like Cassius ?
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassias so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, \J^ "
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts :
Sash him to pieces !
Gas. I denied you not I
Bru. You did.
Gas. I did not: — He was but a fool
That brought my answer back.— Brutus hath rived my heart
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities ;
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Bru. I do net till you practise them on me.
Gas. You love me not.
.Bm. I do not like your faults.
Gas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appeal
As huge as high Olympus.
Gas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
Por Cassius is aweary of the world :
Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ;
Oheck'd like a bondman: all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote, c*^
To cast into my teeth. Oh, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes !— There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast ; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold :
II that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ;
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heutt :
Strike as thou didst at Cassar: for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better
Thau ever thou lov'dst Cassiu.s.
Bru. Sheathe your dagger ; 4«.-vv«-
Be angry when you will, it sli«*ll have scope ;
J,^
THE SIXTH READER.
Bo what you will, dishonor shall be humor.
Oh, Cassius, you are yoked with a larab
Ihat carries anger, as a flint bears fire ;
^ ho, much enforced, shows a hasty spark
And straight is cold again. '
Cos. Hath Cassius lived
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When gnef and blood ill-temper'd vezeth himf
Bra. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.
Cos. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
Bm And my heart, too. '^^''^^ '''^^'^''
Cm. Oh Brutus !--
Bru. What's the matter?
When that rash humor which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful ? '
Bm. Yes, Cassius ; and henceforth.
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
Hell thmk your mother chides, and leave yon so.
' Bhakspbark
2.
11. MARC ANTONY'S ORATION.
PRIENBS. Romans, countrymen, lend me your earg-
J- I come to bury C^sar, not to praise him.
ihe evil that men do lives after them-
The good is oft interred with their bones •
S( let ,t be with Caesar. The noble Brutw
Hath told you, CfBsar was ambitious;
If It were so, it was a grievous fault:
And grievously hath C^sar answered it
Here under leave of Brutus and the rest-
(l^or Brutus is an honorable man.
So are thev ull uii i. ....... ..^j-
tome I to speak in Crosar'n funeral
ORATORICAL.
278
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
Bnt Brutus says he was ambitioUvS ;
And Brutus is an honorable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill :
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
8. When that the poor have cried, Ceesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff— ^L W
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; '
And Brutus is an honorable man.
You all di' see that, on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ;
And, sure, he is an honorable man !
4. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause ;
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ?
judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason 1 — Boar with me:
My heart is in the coffin there with Cassar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.
5. But yesterday, the word of Caasar might
Have stood agaiuvSt the world: now lies he thera.
And none so poor to do him reverence.
masters ! if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts to mutiny and rage,
1 should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honorable men :
I will not do them wrong ; T rather choos-
To wrong the dead, to wrorji^ myself, auc
Than I will wrong such horK'Vable men.
5. But here's a pan-hment, with tlie ceai of
i found it in tiis closet, 'ti« his '..iii:
lict but tlie c<>mnion8 hi-ar his tosturaent,
vo
'.■%'Sf,r :
274
THE SIXTH HEADER.
T.
Which, pardon ise, I do not mean to read,
And they would go and kiss dead Oaesar'a wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood:
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory.
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy.
Unto their issue. —
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle; I remember
The first time ever Caesar put it on ;
'Twaa on a summer's evening, in his tent,—
That day he overcame the Nervii :—
Look, in this place, ran Oassius' dagger through :
See what a rent the envious Casca made :
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ; V^. . •
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, v^^l '
Mark how the bloorf of Caesar followed it,
As rushing out ot doors, to be resolv'd
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no I
8. For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel :
Judge, you gods, how d«arly Oaesai ' -ed him I
This was the most unkindest cut of all :
For when the noble Cfesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquished him : then burst his mighty heart
And, in his mantle muffling up his face'
Even at the base of Pompey's statua,
Which all the while ran blood, great Osesar fell.
9 0, what a fall 'was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.L
0, now you weep ; and. I perceive, you feel
^ The dint of pity: these are gracious drops ;
Kind souls! What, weep you, when you but behold
Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here.
Here in himself, marr'd as you see, with traitors'-
armed to execu
OBATORIOAL.
275
10.
11
Oood friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny, i^v*^.,
They that have done this deed, are honorable ;
What private griefs they have, alas! I know not,
That made them do it: They are wise and honorable:
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts • h^A*.
I am no orator, as Brutus is ;
But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, '^Uii
That love my friend : and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him ;
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech
To stir men') blood. I only speak right on ;
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor dumb mouths,
And bid them speak f(jr me : But, were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue ^1
In every wound of Caesar that siiould move
The stones of- Rome to rise and mutiny!
Shakspkabx,
13. AGAINST THE EXECUTION OP LOUIS XVI.
[Vergniaud, the most eloquent orator of the celebrated party known as the
Girondists during the French Revolution, was bom in 1749; executed in 179;i.
His speech at the opening of the Assembly for the trial of Louis XVI. pro-
duced the greatest sensation on his hearers, of all parties, even the most
recldess; Robespierre himself, thunder-struck by his earnest and persuasive
eloquence, remained tsilent, and did not attempt to reply to it J
TT IS said that it behooves the Convention to show courage
A sufficient to pass judgment on the king, without callihg on
the opinion of the people for its support. Courage ! It re-
quired conrage to attack Louis XVI. in the height of his power.
UoftH 1,. reqmro as much to genu Louis vanquished and uift-
armed to execution ?
376
THE SIXTH READEB.
2. A so d,er entered the prison of Marius with the intention
of murdenng h,m. Terrified at the «ight of his victin.., he
without danng to strike. Had this soldier been a member J
a senate do you suppose he would have hesitated to vote the
death of a tyrant? What courage do you find in th per
Wance of an act of which a coward would be capable ? ^
ng out, If bread is dear, the cause of it is in the Te.nplo l>
If we are shocked every day by the sight of beggary tho
cause of It is in the Temple. ^'
4 And yet tbose who hold this language well know that
the dearness of bread, the want of circulation in provisions e
maladministration of tho armies, and the indfgence wh
Tetple '' "' T'"^ '"" ^*'" ^^"^^^ ^^^^"' ^- '^ thl:
fb.^; .7^^*' *^'''' ^'^ *^''' ^'''^''' ■ ^ho will guarantee
hat these same men, who are continually striving to de. d
the Convention, and who might possibly have succeeded f
perfidies ; that those same men who are everywhere pro-
claiming that a new revolution is neces.ary-who are de-
daring this or that section in a state of permanent insurr t
tion ; who say that when the Convention succeeded Louis we
only changed tyrants, and that we want another 10th of
August; that these same men who talked of nothing but plots
deaths traitors, proscriptions; who insist in their meetings'
and in their writnigs that a Defender ought to be appointed f?,r
the Repub he, and that nothing but a chief can save it;-who
say, will guarantee to me that these very men w 11 not'
e r 'u ^'d -^'.""'^"^ '^' ^''^^ '-^''' ^^«'-'- ^
ever. If bread is dear, the cause of it is in the Convention I
If n»oney ,s scarce, if our armies are scantily supplied the
cause of this is in the Convention I" / ./ '
. . , kW VEBGNIAUl).
ORATORICAL.
277
:|
13. THE RISING OF THE VENDEE.
[La Vendue \s a district on tlie western coiwt of France, tiie inhabitants oi
irhicli were royalists, and fouglit bravely against the revolutionary govern
ment In France, 1793.]
IT was a Sunday morning, and sweet and pure the air,
And brightly shone the Summer sun upon the day of prayer
And silver-sweet the village bells o'er mount and valley tolled,
And in the Church of St. Plorent were gathered yoimg and old,
Wiien rushing down the woodland hill, in fiery haste was seen,
With panting steed and bloody spur, a noble Angevine ;
And bounding on the sacred floor, he gave his fearful cry,
"Up I up for Prance 1 the time is come for France to live or
die I"
11.
"Your queen is in the dungeon ; your king is in his gore ; ft^^ toJiili
O'er Paris waves the flag of death, the fiery tri-colour ;
Your nobles in their ancient halls are hunted down and slain •
In convent cells and holy shrines the blood is poured like rain.
The peasant's vine is rooted up, his cottage given to flame ;
His son is to the scaffold sent, his daugiiter sent to shame.
With torch in hand and hate in heart, tiie rebel host is nigh.
Up I up for France 1 the time is come for France to live or
die 1"
in.
That live-long night the horn was heard from Orleans to
Anjou,
And poured from all their quiet fields our shepherds bold an
true.
Along the pU?asant banks of Loire shot up the beacon-fires, Lv^
And many a torch was blazing bright on Lu9on'8 stately spires^
The midnight cloud was flushed with flame, tluit hung o'er
Parthenav:
The blaze that shone o'er proud Brissac was like the breaking
day,
278
THE SIXTH BE A I>EB.
} t)u»«.vin_
Till east, and west, and north and south, the loyal beacon,
shone "
Like shooting stars from haughty Nantes to sea-begirt Olonne.
And through the night, on horse and foot, the sleepless sum-
mons flew, ^
And morning saw the Lily-flag wide-waving o'er Poitou
And many an ancient musketoon was taken from the wall
u^^ And many a jovial hunter's steed.was harnessed ,. the sUlI
And many a noble's armory gave up the sword and spear ■ '
And many a bride, and many a babe, was left with kiss 'and
And many a homely peasant bade farewell to his old dame
As in the days when Prance's king u ifurled the Oriflamme.
w.
There leading his bold marksm . , rode the eagle-eyed Lescure
And dark Stofflet, who flies to ,,l, as an ea^e t/ht 1^ ' '
And fearless as the lion roaeod, bin gentle as the lamb
Boncham"^ ^' ^'' ^'"^''''' ^''^ '^' ^'''* ^°^ ^''^
Charette, where honor was the prize, the hero sure to wiri-
And there, with Henri Quatre's plume, young Rochejacquei;i.;
And there, m peasant garb and speech-the terror of the foe-
A noble, made by Heaven's own hand, the great Cathelineau
VI.
We marched by tens of thousands, we marched by day and
night, *' -^
The Lily-standard in our front, like Israel's holy light
Around us rushed the rebels, as the wolf upon the shoPp-
We burst upon their columns as a lion roused from sleep •
We tore their bayonets from their hands, we slew them at
their guns ;
Their boasted horsemen^ fled^like chaff before our forest sous.
Now, ' Hor* '8 a
C3
ORATORICAL.
279
Tnat night we heaped their baggage high their lines of dead
between,
And in the centre blazed to heaven their blood-dyed guillotine 1
vn.
In vain they hid their kads in walls; we rushed on stout
Th
ouar
What oared we for shot or shell, for battlement or bar? I UL
We burst ,f. gates ; then like u wind we rushed on Fontenay
We saw ,t. flag with morninr light-'twas ours by setting
We crushed like ripened grapes Montren I, we bore down old
Vihiers ;
Wc charged them with our naked breasts, and took them with
a cheer.
We'll hunt the robbers through the land, from Soin3 to spark-
ling Rhone ; ^
^"""iw^ r ' * ^'*^'" '" '" """ l«^e-onr Wnyjhcll have his ^
Cbolt.
14. LORD STRAFFORD'S DEFENCE.
tAMVll
[Lord Strafford, an ardent supporter of Charles I, was impeache'd and
flnaUy beheaded i„ consequence, y the House of c;mmonrtoward; the
close of the re^ of that unfortunate monarch. His defence ;„! ehitter
Wby a depth of passion, breaking forth at times in passages of starmnj
aTo^of th "T' r'^f "^ '"' °"^^ •'^ ^^^ '^•^^-' ^^- ofTratlr The
TT ! ^i' *^«"^l"«l°" has ben much admired, and If wc o back in im .t
.^V: r:r ^ ^'''"'''' -^^ Westminster naU-the once proud EaW
anding an„d the wreck of his fortunes, with that splendid Court aroui
Mm Which lately bowed submissive to his will; with his humblermonr h'
cfTaH T fT"^'""^' ' ^''"^ '""'' ''"'■«* °f tendernes at the thougln
arlier days, and of his wife, the Lady Arabella Hollis, " that saint in heav-
, to whose memory he had always clung amid the po-;.er and spl ndor
of later life; with his body bowed down under the pressure of JleX,-
cal snfferino-. and hia atmnn. =„ih» .,tt-i.. ,„. , . . - mttnse physi-
,- ,, ^ ■ ■„ . - '■■•'^^" '"t'Tiij- 3UotiuL-a, ana pouL-ed out like water
ZL;f r^^ "^i "^"^ ''°^'^' "^ ^"'•'^'' -y ^''^^■- Something mire
M iBtended to .ay, but my voioe and my spirit fail me.".^we canno! b^tL.
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280
THE SIXTH HEADER.
't>«»uX,-
that there are few passages of equal tenderness and powci In the whola rani^j
of English eloquence. We are strongly reminded of Shakspeare's doi:neatinr,
of WolBcy, under similar circumstances, in some of the most pathetic stcnpi
which poetry has ever depicted.]
jITY LORDS, be pleased to give that regard to the peoiage
-1-*A of England, as never to expose yourselves to such novol
Joints, such constructive interpretations of law. If there
must be a trial of wits, let the subject-matter be somctliing
else than the lives and honor of peers 1 It will be wisdom y
yourselves and your posterity to cast into the fire these bloody
and mysterious volumes of constructive and arbitrary treascn,
as the primitive Christians did their books of curious arts, and
betake yourselves to the plain letter of the law and the statute,
which telleth what is and what is not treason, without beiii'
ambitious to be more learned in the art of killing than om-
forefathers. The^e gentlemen tell us that they speak in de-
fence of the Commonwealth against their arbitrary treason I
2. It is now full two hundred and forty years since any man
was touched for this alleged crime to this height before rny
self. Let us not awaken those sleeping li'ms to our destruc-
tion, by taking up a few musty records that have lain by the
walls for so many ages, forgotten or neglected.
3. My Lords, what is my present misfortune may be forever
yours. It is not the smallest part of my grief that not the
crime of treason, but my other sins, which are exceeding
many, have brought me to this bar ; and, except your Lorl
ships' wisdom provide against it, the shedding of my blood
may make way for the tracing out of yours. You, your
estates, your posterity, lie at the stake. brtA^
4. For my poor self, if it were not for your Lordships' in-
terest, and the interest of a saint in heaven, who hath left me
here two pledges on earth (at this his breath stonned, and he
Bhed tears abundantly in mentioning his wife), I should never
J take the pains to keep up this ruinous cottage of mine. It is
f,v*v,t loadfd with such infirmities, tiiat in truth I have no great
pleasure to carry it about wHh me any lunger. Nor c >uld I
15. SENATORIii
ORA'i'ORICAL.
281
ever leave it at a fitter timo tlian this, when I li„po that tlie
better part of the world would perhaps think that by my mis-
fortunes I had given a testimony of my integrity to my God,
my king, and my country. I thank G.^d, I count not the afflic'
tions of the present life to be compared to that glory which is
to bo revealed in the time to come I
5 My Lords 1 my Lords I my Lords I something more I had
intended to say, but my voice and my spirit fail me. Only I
do in all humility and submission cast mvsclf down at your
Lordships' feet, and desire that I may Le a beacon to keep you
from shipwreck.' Do not put such rocks in your own way,
which no prudence, no circumspection can eschew or satitrfV «v,fe
bat by your utter ruin 1 —
6. And 80, my Lords, even so with all tranquillity of mind, I
submit myself to your decision. And whether your judgment
in my case- I wish it were not the case of you all— be for
life or for dejith, it shall be righteous in my eyes, and shall be
received with a TeBeum laudamus--^xe give God the praise
15. SENATORIAL DENUNCIATION OF RICHARD CROMWELL.
[Sir Henrjr Vane was bom in England, 1613. He waa the fourth Governor
" x^°,f t Maseachnsetts. In 1662 he was executed for high treason, on
Malvern HiU, England. The remarkable speech, of which we give a rie^
extract, did not fail in its effects-Richard Cromwell never appeared in pubUc
after n was delivered. " This impetuous torrent," says one of Vane's biog-
n>p.cr8, "swept every thing before it. Oratory, genius, and the spirit of
liberty never achieved a more complete triumph. It broke, and forever the
powei of Richard and his party."] '
U R. SPEAKER : Among all the people of the universe, I
i know none who have shown so mnch jieal for the liberty
of their country as the English at this time have done ;— they
nitve,by the help of Divine Providence, overcome all obstacles
Bn-l have made themselves free. We have driven awav the
hered.tary tyranny of the House of Stuart, at the expense of
much blood and treasure, in hopes of enjoying hereditary
1'
I
pte
882
THE SIXTH READER.
iberfy, after having shaken off the yoke of kingsWp • and
there is not a man among us who could have imagined tl.at
any person would be so bold as to dare to attempt the ravisf,
.ng from us that freedom which cost us so much blood ana so
much labor. ^"
2 But 80 it happens, I know not by what misfortune, we
• T „f ';; T' '' *'"'' "'" P°^'^«°«^ *^- Emperor
T.tus to make room for Domitian ; who made away Augustus
^.at they m,ght have Tiberius; and changed dlaudius ^
^ero. r am sensible these examples are foreign from ,nv
subject, smce the Romans in those days were buried in 'owd-
«es8 and luxury, whereas the people of England are now
renowned nil over the world for their great virtue and disci-
phne ; and yet,-suffer an idiot, without courage, without
sense -nay, without ambition,-to have dominion in a coun-
try of liberty I ,
3 One could bear a little with Oliver Cromwell, though
contrary to his oath of fidelity to the Parliament: contraryto
M ^\! P"^^'"' """^'^'"^ '"^ '^^ '-^^Pe^^t he owed that
venerable body from whom he received his authority he
usurped the Government. His merit was so extraordinary,
that our judgments, our passions, might be blinded by it He
jnade his way to empire by the most illust">V.us actions ; h-
had under his command an army that hjr. ,de him a con-
queror, and a people that had made him their general
4 But, as for Richard Cromwell, his son. who is he? what
aij his tites? We have seen that he had a sword by his
Bide ; but did he ever draw it? And, what is of more import-
ance in this case, is he fit to get -obedience from a mighty „a
tion, who could never make a ibotman obey him? Yet w.
must recognize this man as ouv king, under the style of Pro
tectorI_a man without birth, without courage, without cob-
duct For my part, I declare, sir, it ehall never be said that
I made such a man my master 1 sib H.«Br V^.
,.,.ryi
ORATORICAL.
16. KING JOHN AND HUBERT.
283
[This speech, whore King John takes Hubert aside and tempts him to
nndertake the munler of the king's fair young nephew, Prince Arthur, la n
most admirable exetdse on the lower tones of the voice. It exhibits a sort of
descending, or antl-cl!max, the words, o (jrave, being pronounced in the low-
est tones we can command. It must be delivered In an earnest whisper ; but
as this whisper must be heard by the entire audience, great force must be
added to these low tones. None but good readers and the best orators can do
this well ; but these notes are of great Importance, and in the hands of a
well-practiced speaker or reader, they are a source of much pleasing variety.]
K. John. Como hither, Hubert. 0, my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much ; within this wall of flesh
Tliere is a sour counts thee her creditor,
And, with advantage, means to pay thj' love.
And, ray good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand, I had a thing to say —
But I will fit it with some better time.
By heav'n, Hubert, I'm almost ashamed
To say what good respect I have of thee.
Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty
K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet,
But thou shalt have — and creep time ne'er so slow,
Yet it shall come for me to c) thee good:
I had a thing to say, — but let it go ;
The sun is in the heav'n, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of th^ world,
Is all too wanton and too full of gauds ^^^'^ W-*-
To give me audience. If the midnight bell
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth
Sound one unto the drowsy race of nig^t ; i.<K)w»t,
If this same were a churchyard where we stand.
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs*
Or if that tho^ couldst see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine pars, and make renly
Without a tongue, using conceit >alone, i^wfj^^
284
THE SIXTH READER,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of wordg
Then in despite of broad-eyed, watchful day,
I would into thy bosonfpaur my thoughts.
But, ah I I will, not— yet I love thee well,
And by my troth, I think thou lov'st mo well.
Euh. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act
By heav'n I'd do it.
K. John. Do I not know that thou wouldst?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, tiirow thine eye
On yon young boy : I'll tell thee what, my friend,
He is a very serpent in my way,
And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me. Dost thou understand mo?
Thou art his keeper.
-Sm6. And I'll keep him so.
That he shall not offend your majesty.
K. John. Death,
Euh. My lord?
JST. John. A grave.
Evb. He shall not live.
-BT. John. Enough.
I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee ;
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee :
Remember.
Shaxspba.sk
17. STRICTUg ES^ON WILLIAM PITT. '.
O IR, I was unwilling to interrupt the course of this debate,
^ while It was carried on with calmness and decency, by
men who do not suier the ardor of opposition to cloud tl.oir
reason, or transport them to such expressions as the dignity
of this assembly does not admit. I have hitherto deferred to
answer the gentleman who declaimed against the bill with
Buch fluency of rhetoric, and such vehemence of aesture-
who charged the advocate for the expedients now proposed
,**MJ
ORATORICAL.
285
with having no regard to any interest but tlieir own, and
with making laws only to consume paper, and threatened
them with the defection of their adherer.ts, and the Ic,«s of
then- influence, upon this new discovery „f tlieir folly and their
ignorance.
2. Nor, sir, I do now answer him for any other purpose
than to remind him how little the clamors of rage and th
potulancy of invectives contribute to the purposes for which
this assembly is called together; how little the discovery
of truth IS promoted, and the security of the nation estab-
l>8bed by pompous diction and theatrical emotions. For-
midable sounds and furious declamation, confident assertions
and lofty periods, may affect the young and inexperienced ;
and, perhaps, the gentleman may have contracted his habits
of oratory by conversing more with those of his own a^o
than with such as have had more opportunities of acquiring
knowledge, and more successful methods of communicating
tlieir sentiments. °
3 If the heat of his temper, sir, would suffer him to attend
to those whose age and long acquaintance with business
give them an indisputable right to deference and superiority
he would learn, in time, to reason rather than declaim, and to
prefer justness of argument, and an accurate knowledge of
facts to sounding epithets and splendid superlatives, which
may disturb the imagination for a moment, but which leave
no lasting impression on the mind.
4. He will learn, sir, that to accuse- and to prove are very
different; and that reproaches, unsupported by evidence aff.c*
only the character of him that utters them. Excursions (,L
fancy and flights of oratory are, indeed, pardonable in young
men, but in no other; and it would surely contribute more
even to the purpose for which some gentlemen appear to'
Bpeak (that of depreciating the conduct of the administration)
to prove the inconvenience and injustice of this bill than'
harely to assert them, with whatever n.ugnificen.e o^= Ian-
ffuuge, or appearance of zeal, hondity, or cnn.passion.
8lK ROBKKT WaLPVLK.
286
THB SIXTH HEADER.
Iv^V'Uv'Im
•1
u»^
ill MII«W«
18. REPLY OP WILLIAM PITT— 1741.
[William Pitt, first Earl of Chatham, has generally b(;cn n gardcd ng th«
most powerful orator of modem times. He certainly ruled the British R'nate
as no man has ever ruled over a great deliberative assembly. His success, uo
doubt, was in part owing to extraordinary personal advantages. Sudi wa
the power of his oyo that ho often cowed dowu au antagonist iu the midst o(
Is speech, and threw him into utter confusion by a glance of scora or eon-
i.empt Whenever he rose to speak his countenance glowed with animution.
His voice was clear and fulL His lowest whisper was distinctly heard ; his
middle notes were of exceeding sweetness ; and wlicn he elevated his voice lo
»y\\ its highest pitch, the house was 'completely filled with the rich volume of
(j Bound. The effect was a^vful, except when he wished to cheer and aniin.'itc,—
then he had spirit-stirring notes which were perfectly irresistible. The Urst
Bound of his voice in the following reply is said to have terrified Sir It
Walpole, who exclaimed, " We must muzzle that terrible cornet of horse."
Sir Robert offered to promote Mr. Pitt in the army provided he gave up hl»
seat in Parliament. Every speech of Lord Chatham la worth the attention ol
the student of oratory.]
S'
IIR, — The atrocious crime of being a young man, wliicli the
honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and deceiicy,
charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny,
but content myself with wishing that I may be one of those
whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of that num
ber who are ignorant in spite of experience. Whether youth
can be imputed to man as a reproach, I will not, sir, assume
the province of determining ; but surely age may boctmm
justly contemptible if the opportunities which it brings have
passed away without improvement, and vice appears to pre-
vail when passions have subsided.
^tU">i 2. The wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a
f\uv>>thousand errors, continues still to blunde r, and whose age has
only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either
abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his gray hairs
should Secure him from insult. Much more, sir, is he to be
abhorred, who, as ue has advanced in age, has receded from
virtue, and becomes more wicked with less temptation ; who
prostitutes himself I'or money which he cannot enjoy, and
spends the remainder of hii life iu the ruin of his country.
.£«mj
ORATORICAL
287
8. But youth, sir, is not my only crime, I have boon accnsod
of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either
imply some peculiarities of gesture or a dissimulation of my
real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and languaf^oa
of other men. In the first sonse, sir, the charge is too trifling
to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned to be de-
ipised.
4. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own
language; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambition
to please this genleman, I shall not lay myself under any
rcatraint, nor very solicitously copy his direction or his mien,
however matured by age, or modeled by experienced. If any
man shall, by charging mo with theatrical behavior, imply
that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a
calumniator and a villain, nor shall any protection shelter him
from the treatment he deserves. I shall, on such an occasion,
without scruple, trample upon all those forms with which
wealth and dignity intrench themselves, nor shall any thing
hut age restrain my resentment— age, which alw.-iys brings
one privilege, that of being insolent and supercilious without
punishment.
6. But with regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, \
am of opinion that if I had acted a borrowed part, I would
have avoided their censure. But the heat that offended them
is the ardor of conviction, that zeal for the service of my coun-
try which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress.
I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, nor
look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my cndeav-
ors at whatever hazard to repel the aggression, and drag tho
thief to justice, whoever may partake r>f their plunder. And if
the honorable gentleman —
6. [At this point Mr. Pitt was called to order by Mr. Wyn-
«ington, who went on to say : " No diversity of opinion can
justify the, violation of decency and tht use of rude and
violent expressions, dictated only by resentment, and uttered
without regard to—" Here Mr. Pitt called to order and pre
i ceeded thus :]
Uv
i-^JjT
if^
ir
■^
11^
m
S88
THE SIXTH READER.
7. Sir, if this bo to preserve order, there ia no danger of
indecency from the most licentious tongues. For whut
calumny can be more atrocious, wiiat reproach more sovcro
than that of speaking with regard to any thing but tvifh
Older may sometimes be broken by passion or inadveitenrv
Int v/ill hardly be re-established by a monitor like this, wli,i
canuot govern his own passions while he is restraiiiiiHr iha
in)petujsiiy of otluM's.
8. Happy would it be for mankind if every one knew his
own province. We should not then see the same man at once
a criminal and a judge ; nor would this gentleman assumo tlio
right of dictating to others what he has not learned liinjHfvlf.
Vhat I may return in some degree the favor ho intends me, I
will advise him never hereafter to exert himself on the suLjVct
of order ; but whenever he feels inclined to speak on such
occasions, to reineml)er how he has now succeeded, and con-
demn in silence what his censures will never amend.
19. HOTSPUR. • '
[This scene, where Hotspur, fresh from the field of his daring cxiiloln,
vindicates himself from the charge of refusing to give up tlie prisoners of war
should bo declaimed very rapidly, harshly, and sometimes with interruption
and hesitation, as if the speaker were unable to give it .suflieieut forco. Tlie
voice assumes the highest tone it can command consistently with iotio and
boldness— though sometimes the low and forcible tone is used to »tf«*eM
anger with uncommon energy.]
■jITY liege, I did deny no prisoners,
*-*A But I remember when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Bieatldess and faint leaning upon my sword, '^^'''
Canie there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd,
Freeh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd, '""""'
clouw4.- Show'd like a stubble land at harvest horae>-
2. He was perfumed like a milliner ;
And 'twixt his finger and his lliuinb lie held
ORATORICAL.
S89
'■^lAJIj
A pouncot-box, which ever aud anon ~t^U<>,K..l,
Ho gave his nose, and tocjk 't away again ; —
Wiio, therowith angry when it next came there,
Took it in snuff— and still ho smiled and talk'd,
And ap the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly.
To bring a_Blovonly unhandsome corse 5»(>-
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
8 With many holiday and lady terms,
He qnestion'd me ; among the rest demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf, a^i^
I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold.
To be so pester'd with a popinjay, W-wwU'
Out of my grief and my impatience
Answer'd ncglectingly, I know not what,
4. He should, or should not ;— for he made me mad,
To see him shine so ^bri_8k, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman.
Of guns, and drums, and wounds (heaven save the
mark !)
And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth
i,^" Was parmacity for an inward bruise; v-^-M'.
Aud that it was great pity, so it was.
That villanous saltpetre should be digo-'d
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
5, Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns
He would himself have been ;, soldier.
This bold, unjointed chat of his, my lord, ^•♦iJ.kja-
I answer'd indirectly as I said.
And 1 beseech you, let not his report ^^^
Come current for an accusation
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.
Shjucsfkuui
9
I'-*! -I
[■'•!•
ft It ■
•A-
. If ' "i 'J
1
290 THE SIXTH READER.
80. REPEAL OF TFIE STAMP ACT.
FLord Chatham Is justly cndcariul to tivcry Aincrican for his ('lof(dcnt up,
penla In thoir behalf against tho ap;gruM8l()iia of the Mother Country. FceMa
and docilpit aa ho had become, he forgot hia ago uud suflerlugs. IIc8ux>J
forth In tho proscnco of the whole empire to arraign as a breach of i1m« Con-
•lltutlon every attempt to tax a pcoplo who had no representative In Parlift.
rnent. It was the era of his snbliinest efforts in oratory. Ho denounced U«
war with a prophetic sense of tho shame and disaster attending such a coi
ilot Ills voice rang throughout every town and hamlet In tho Colonies, mid
when ho proclaimed In Parliament : " I rejolco that America has rcsinted 1'
millions of hearts on this side of the Atlantic swelled with a prouder deter-
mlnation of resisting even to the end. J
CIR,— A charge is brought against goiitlemcii sitting in this
^ house of giving birth to sedition in America. Several
have spoken their sentiments with freedom against this un-
happy act, — and that freedom iiaa become their crime. Sony
I am to hear the liberty of speech in this house imputed as a
crime. But the imputation sliall not discourage me.
2. The gentleman tells us, America is obstinate ; America is
almost in open rebellion. I rejoice that America has resisted
Three millions of people so dead to all the feelings of liberty
as voluntarily to let themselves be made slaves would have
been fit instruments to make slaves of all the rest.
3. I come not here armed at all points with law cases
and acts of Parliament, with statute-books doubled down in
dogs' ears, to defend the cause of liberty, i would not de-
bate a particular point of law with the gentleman. I know
his abilities. But, for the defence of liberty, upon a general
principle, upon a constitutional principle, it is a ground on
whicli I stand firm — on which I dare meet any man.
4. Tiie gentleman boasts of his bounties to America. Are
not those bounties intended finally for the benefit of this king-
dom? If they are not, he has misapplied the national tieas-
urea. He asks, When were the Colonies emancipated? I
desire to know when they were made slaves ! But I dwell
uot upon words.
6. I will be bold to affirm that the profits of Great
ORATORICAL.
291
Bn'tain from the trade of tlio Colonics, throiijrl, uH |tfl branches,
Hre two millions a year. This is tli<> fuiid tlmt carried you
triumphantly thronsli the last war. This is the t)ric:o America
piiys for her protection. And shiill a miserable financier como,
with a boast that ho can fetch a pei)p('rcorn into the ex-^yi*^
jheiiner, by the loss of millions to the nation?*
6. A groat deal has been said, without doors, of tlio power, oi
ihe strength of America. It is a topi that ought to bo can- "i
liously meddled with. In a good cause, the force of thia^*'
(ountry can crush America to atoms. I know the valor of
your troops ; I know the skill of your officers.
7. But on this ground,— on the Stamp Art, when so many
here will think it a crying injustice,— I am one who will
lift up my hands against it. In such a canse, even your
Buccess would be hazardous. America, if she fell, would
fall like the strong man. She would embrace the pillars of
the State, and pull down the Constitution along with her.
Is this your boasted peace ? To sheathe the sword, not in its
scabbard, but in the bowels of your countrymen?
8. Will you quarrel with yourselves, now the whole houso
of Bourbon is united against you? Wliile France disturbs
your fisheries in Newfoundland, embarrasses your slave-trade
to Africa, and withholds from your subjects in Canada their
property stipulated by treaty ? while the ransom for Manillaa
is denied by Sjjain ?
9. The Americans have been wronged. They have been
driven to madness by injustice. Will you punish Ihem for thr
madness you have occasioned ? Rather let prudence and tern-
per come first from this side I I will undertake for America
hat she will follow the example.
"Be to her faults a little blind; i
Be to her virtues very kind."
Let the Stamp Act be repealed ; and let the reason for the re-
f I ; ,f
fi '
* Mr. Nugent had .r.°.M thst a peppercorn in acknowledgment of th«
right to tax America was of more value than millions without it.
292
THE SIXTH RE\.DER.
peal— ftecawse the Act was founded on erroneous pnnciplea—he
assigned. Let it be repealed absolutely, totally, and imine-
^***<^ly' Lord Chatham.
21. RECONCILIATION WITH AMERICA.
[In regard to this speech, we find in the diary of Josiah Quincy, jr., the fol
lowing memorandum : "Attended the debates in the House of Lords. Good
fortune gave me one of the best places for hearing, and taking a few minutes.
Lord Chatham rose like Marcellus. His language, voice, and gesture, were
more pathetic than I ever saw or heard before, at the Bar or Senata He
seemed like an old Roman Senator, rising with the dignity of age, yet speak-
Iv-r with the fire of youth." Dr. Franklin, who was also present at the debate,
said of this speech, that "he had seen, in the course of his life, sometimes
eloquence without wisdom, and often wisdom witliout eloquence; in the
present instance, he saw both united, and both, as he thought, in the highest
degree possible."]
A MERICA, my Lords, cannot be reconciled to this country
-^ —she ought not to be reconciled— till the troops of Britain
are withdrawn. How can America trust you, with the bay.
onet at her breast? How can she suppose that you mean
less than bondage or death ? I therefore move that an address
be presented to his majesty, advising that immediate orders
be dispatched to General Gage, for removing his majesty's
forces from the town of Boston.
2. The way must be immediately opened for reconciliation.
It will soon be too late. An hour now lost in allaying fer-
ments in America may produce years of calamity. Never
will I desert for a moment the conduct of this weighty busi-
ness. Unless nailed to my bed by the extremity of sickness
I will pursue it to the end. I will knock at the door of this
sleeping and confounded ministry, and will, if possible, rouse
them to a sense of their danger.
3. I contend not for indulgence, but for justice, to America.
What is our right to persist in such cruel and vindictive acts
against a loyal, respectable' people ? They say you have no
right to tax them without their consent. They say truly
ORATORICAL.
293
Representation and taxation n.ust go together ; they are in-
Beparab e. I therofore urge and cor.jure your lor4.1iips imme
diately to adopt this conciliating measme
4. If illegal violencns ha^e been, as it i^ said, conwnitted in
Amenca, prepare the way-open the door of po.sibility--for
acknowledgment and satisfaction ; but proved not to such
^uerc.on-such proscription : cease your indiscriminate inflic-
lons ; ajnerce not thirty thousand ; oppress not three miUions.^""''*^
u-ntate them not to unappeasable rancor, for the fault of forty
or fifty. Such severity of injustice must forever render incur-
able the wounds you have inflicted.
5. What though you march from town to town, from pro-
rmce to province? What though you enforce a temporary
and local submission ; hovT shall ^^.u secure the obedience
of the country you leave behind yo. ., your progress ? How
grasp the dominion of eighteen iiundred miles of continent
populous m numbers, strong in valor, liberty, and the means
of resistance ?
^ t The spirit which now resists your taxation, in America i
.8 the same which formerly opposed loans, benevolences ani M^-«.
Bhip-money, in England ;-the same spirit which called all
England on its legs, and, by the Bill of Rights, vindicated the
English Constitution ;-the same spirit which established the
great fundamental essential maxim of your liberties, that no
Dubject of England .shall be taa,ed but by his own consent.
8. This glorious Whig spirit animates three millions in
America, who prefer poverty, with liberty, to gilded chains
and sordid affluence ; and who will die in defence of their
rights as men. What shall oppose this spirit, aided by
the congenial flame glowing in the breast of every Whig in
England I '"Tis liberty to liberty engaged," that they will
delend themselves, their families, and their country. In this
great cause they are immovably allied : it is the 'alliance ot
aod and nature,-iminutable, eternaK-fixed as the firmamcnj
ot Heaven. _
ikiJU. OF Chatham.
294
THE SIXTH READER.
23. THE AMERICAN WAR.
[Charles James Fox, bom in England, 1729; died, ms. Hia style o<
oratory has been compared by some critics to Demosthenes'. In his Ian
guage Mr. Fox studied simplicity, strength, and boldness. "Give me an
elegant Latin word," said he, "and a homely Saxon one, and I wiU chooso
the latter." Another of his sayings was this: "Did the speech read well
«rhen reported; if so it was a bad one." These two remarks give us the
secret of his style as an orator.
The life of Fox has this lesson for young men: that early habits of reck
lessness and vice can hardly fail to destroy the influence of the most splendid
abilities and the most humane and generous dispositions.]
VljrE are charged with expressing joy at the triumphs of
» 1 America. True it is that, in a former session, I pro-
claimed it as my sincere opinion, that if .the ministry had suc-
ceeded in their first scheme on the liberties of America, the
liberties of this country would have been at an end. Think-
ing this, as I did, in the sincerity of an honest heart, I re-
joiced at the resistance which the ministry had met to their
attempt. That great and glorious statesman, the late Earl of
Chatham, feeling for the liberties of his native . country,
thankfc-i God that America had resisted.
2. But, it seems, " all the calamities of the country are to
be ascribed to the wishes, and the joy, and the speeches, of
opposition." Oh, miserable and unfortunate ministry! Oli,
blind and incapable men 1 whose measures are framed with so
little foresight, and executed with so little firmness, that they
not only crumble to pieces, but bring on the ruin of their
country, merely because one rash, weak, or wicked man, in
the House of Commons, makes a speech against them 1
3. But who is he who arraigns gentlemen on this side of the
House with causing, by their inflammatory speeches, the mis-
fortunes of their country? The accusation comes from one
whose inflammatory harangues have led the nation, step by
Btep, from violence to violence, in that inhuman, unfeeling
pysteni of blood and massacre, which every honest man nius°t
detest, which every good mau muwt abhor, and every wisd
man condeum 1
ORATORICAL.
295
f4Vw_
4. And this man imputes the guilt of such measures to those
who had all along foretold the consequences ; who had prayed,
entreated, and supplicated, not only for America, but for the
credit of the nation and its eventual welfare, to arrest the
hand of power, meditating slaughter, and directed by in-
justice I
6. What was the consequence of the sanguinary measure*
recommended in those bloody, inflammatory speeches ? Though ii
Boston was to be starved, though Hancock and Adams were «
proscribed, yet at the feet of these very men the Parliament
of Great Britain was obliged to kneel, flatter, and cringe; W«wi^
flDd, as it had the cruelty at one time to denounce vengeance
against these men, so it had the meanness afterwards to im-
plore their forgiveness.
6. Shall he who called the Americans " Hancock and his
crew,"— shall he presume to reprehend any set of men for in- ^^^^^^
flamraatory speeches? It is this accursed American war that
has led us, step by step, into all our present misfortunes and
national disgraces.
7. What was the cause of our wasting forty millions of
money, and sixty thousand lives ? The American war I What
was it that produced the French rescript and a French war?
The American war I What was it that produced the Spanish
manifesto and Spanish war? The American war I What was
it that armed forty-two thousand men in Ireland with the
arguments carried on the points of forty thousand bayonets?
The American war I For what are we about to incur an addi-
tional debt of twelve or fourteen millions? This accursed,
cruel, diabolical American war 1 j.
88. THE FOREIGN POLICY OF WASHINGTON.
TIOW infinitely superior must appear the spirit and princi-
^^ pies of General Washington, in his late address to Con-
gress, compared with the policy of modern European courts 1
396
THE SIXTH READER.
|A*Aot^
Illustrious man I-derivin- honor less from the splendor of his
situation than from the dignity of his mind 1 Grateful to
France for the assistance received from her, in that great con.
test which secured the independence of America, he yet aid
uot choose to give up the system of neutrality in her favor
2 Having once laid down the line of conduct most propor
to be pursued, not all the insults and provocations of the
French minister, Genet, could at all put him out of his way
or bend him from his purpose. It must, indeed, create aston^
ishraent, that, placed in circumstances so critical, and filb'ng a
station 80 conspicuous, the character of Washington should
never once have been called in question ;-that he should in
no one instance, have been accused either of improper inso-
lence, or of mean submission, in his transactions with foreign
nations. °
3. It has been reserved for him to run the race of glory
without experiencing the smallest interruption to the brilliancy
of his career. The breath of censure has not dared to im.
peach the {urity of his conduct, nor the eye of envy to raise
its malignant glance to the elevation of his virtues. Such haa
been the transcendent merit and the unparalleled fate of this
illustrious man f
4. How did he act when insulted by Genet? Did he con-
sider it as necessary to avenge himself for the misconduct or
madness of an individual, by involving a whole continent in
the horrors of war? No; he contented himself with pro.
curing satisfaction for the insult, by causing Genet to be re-
called ; and thus, at once, consulted his own dignity and the
interests of his country.
5. Happy Americans 1 wnile the whirlwind flies over ono
quarter of the globe, and spreads everywhere desolation, you
remain protected from its baneful effects by your own virtues,
and the wisdom of your government. Separated from Europe
by an immense ocean, you feel not the effect of those preju-
dices and passions which convert the boasted seats of civiliza-
tion into scenes of horror and bloodshed. You profit by the
OBATORIOAL.
S97
folly and madness of the contending nations, and afford, in
your more congenial clime, .an asylum to those blessings and
virtues which they wantonly contemn, or wickedly exclude
from their bosom I
6. Cultivating the arts of peace under the influence of free-
dom, J )'i advance, by rapid strides, to opulence and distino
tiun ; and if, by any accident, you should be compelled to tako
part in the preser' unhappy contest,— if you should find it
necessary to avenge insult, or repel injury,— the world will
bear witness to the equity of your sciitimeuts and the modera-
tion of your views ; and the success of your arms will, no
doubt, be proportioned to the justice of your cause 1 fox
24. "A POLITICAL PAUSE."
SAYS the honorable gentleman : " But we must pause !"
What I must the bowels of Great Britain be torn out —
feer best blood be spilt — her treasures wasted — that you may
make an experiment? Put yourselves, ! that you would put
yourselves on the field of battle, and learn to judge of the
sort of horrors that you excite.
2. In former wars a man might, at least, have some feeling,
some interest, that served to balance in his mind the impres-
sions which a scene of carnage and of death must inflict. But
if a man were present now at tiie field of slaughter, and were
to inquire for what they were fighting, — " Fighting 1" would
be the answer ; " they are not fighting ; they are pausing."
8. "Why is that man expiring? Why is that other writh-
ing with agoi,y? What means this implacable fury?" The
answer must be, — "You are quite wrong, sir; you deceive
yourself— they are not fighting— do not disturb them — they
are merely pausing 1 This man is not expiring with agony—
that man is not dead — he is only pausing 1
4, "Lord help you, sir! thoy are not angry' with one an.
other • they have now no cause of quarrel; but their countrj
298
THE SIXTH READER.
thinks that there should be a p;uir,e. All that you see, sir, is
nothing like fiyliting— there is no hurnt), nor cruelty, nor bl,,ud
fihed ill it, whatever ; it is nothing more than a political pauso !
It is merely to try an experiment— to see whether Bonaparte
will not behave himself better than heretofore ; and iu the
mean time we have agreed to a pause, in pure friendship I"
5. And is this the way, sir, that you are to show yourselves
the advocates of order ? You take up a system calculated to
uncivilize the world— to destroy order— to trample on re-
jjJfloirK.ligion— to stifle in the heart, not merely the generosity of
I noble sentiment, but the affections of social nature ; and in
the prosecution of this system, you spread terror and devasta.
tion all around vou. «
** JrOX
^\
>
25. THE AMERICAN WAR DENOUNCED.
[Mr. Pitt was the second son of the great Lord Chatham. He entered Par-
Uament at the age of twentyrtwo, and became virtually leader of the Honss
and Prime Minister at twenty-four. As a debater, his speeches are logical
and argumentative. They arc stamped with the strongest marks of orrgin-
ality. His eloquence, occasionally rapid, electric, and vehemant, was always
chaste, winning, and persuasive— not awing into acquiescence, but arguing
into conviction. UnaUured by dissipation and unswayed by pleasure, he never
sacrificed the national treasure to one, nor the national interest to the other.
With Chatham, Burke, and Fox, Pitt stands, by universal consent, at the head
of British eloquence.]
/^ ENTLEMEN have passed the highest eulogiums on the
VX American war. Its justice has been defended in the
most fervent manner. A noble lord, in the heat of his zeal,
has called it a holy war. For my part, although the honor-
able gentleman who made this motion, and some other gentle-
men, have been, more than once, in the course of the debate,
severely reprehended for calling it a wicked and accursed
war, I am persuaded, and would affirm, that it was a most
accursed, wicked, barbarous, cruel, unnatural, unjust, and
diabolical war !
2. It was conceived in injustice ; it was nurtured aud
i;*:*u|4i
ORATORICAL.
209
broaght forth in folly ; its footstops were marked with blood,
Blauffhtor, persecution, and devastation ;— in truth, every thing
which went to constitute moral depravity and human turpitude
were to be found in it. It was pregnant with misery of every
kind. 'i,
3. The mischief, however, recoiled on the unliappy people i.i
this country, who were made the instruments by which tho
wicked purposes of the authors of the war were effected.
The nation was drained of its best blood, and of its viti.l re-
sources of men and money. The expense of the war was
enormous,— much beyond any former experience.
4. And yet, what has the British nation received in return ?
Nothing but a series of ineffective victories, or severe de-
feats ;— victories celebrated only by a temporary triumph over
our brethren, whom we would trample down and destroy;
•victories, which filled the land with mourning for the lof^a of
dear and valued relatives, slain in the impious cause of en-
forcing unconditional submission, or with narratives of the
glorious exertions of men struggling in the holy eause of
liberty, though struggling in the absence of all the facilities
and advantages which are in general deemed the aecessary
concomitants of victory and success.
6. Where was the Englishman, who, on reading the narra-
tives of those bloody and well-fought contests, could refrain
from lamenting the loss of so much British blood spilt in such
a cause ; or from weeping, on whatever t^i^e victory might be
ieclared ? «r t.
William Put.
26.
ON AN ATTEMPT TO COERCE HIM TO RESIGN.
[Certain resolutions were passed by tlie House of Commons, in 1784, for
Ihe removal of his Majesty's ministers, at the Lead of whom was Mr. Pitt.
Theoe resolutions, however, his Majesty had not thought proper to comply
with. A reierenee having been made to them, Mr. Pitt spoke as foUows, in
reply to Mr. Fox :]
pAN anything that I have said, Mr. Speaker, subject me to
V be branded with the imputation of preferring my per^
too
THE SIXTH READER,
flonal situation to the public happinesa? Sir, I have declared,
again and again, Only prove to me that there is any 'reason
able hope-show mo but the most distant prospect-that .nv
resignation will, at all contribute to restore peace and ha J
ness to the country, and I will instantly resign.
2 But, sir, I declare, at the same time, I will not be in
uced to resign as a preliminary to negotiation. I wIU nut
bandon this situation, in order to throw myself upon tho
mercy of that right honorable gentleman. He calls me
^ 3. Sir it is because I win not become a mere nominal min.
ister of his creation,-it is because I disdain to become the
puppet of that right honorable gentleman,_that I will not
resign ; neither shall his contemptuous expressions provoke
me to resignation :, my own honor and reputation I never will-
resign.
4. Let this house beware'd" suffering any individual to in-
volve his own cause, and to interweave his own interests in
the resolutions of the House of Commons. The dignity of the
house 18 forever appealed to. Let us beware that it is not tho
dignity of any set of men. Let us beware that personal
prejudices have no share in deciding these great constitutional
questions.
5. The right honorable gentleman is possessed of those en-
chanting arts whereby he can give grace to deformity. He
holds before your eyes a beautiful and delusive ima^^e - he
pushes It forward to your observation ; but, as sure as vou
embrace it, the pleasing vision will vanish, and this fair phau
.om of liberty will be succeeded by anarchy, confusion, and
rum to the Constitution. For, in truth, sir, if the constitu
tional independence of the crown is thus reduced to the very
verge of annihilation, where is the boasted equipoise of the
Uonstitution?
6. Dreadful, therefore, as the conflict is, my conscience mj
duij, my fixed regard for the Constitution of our ancestors.
OBATORIOAL.
801
maintain roe still in this arduous situation. It is not any
proud contempt, or deflauce of the coii8tituti<Anal resolutions
of this house,— it is no personal point of honor,— much less is
it any lust of power, that makes me still cling to office. The
situation of the times requires of mo— and, I will add, the
•ountry calls aloud to me— that I should defend this castle •
nd I am determined, therefore, I will defend it !
Wiij-iAM Pitt.
27. SECTARIAN TYRANNY, 1813.
T1THBNEVER one sect degrades another on account of
TT religion, such degradation is tke tyranny of a sect.
When you enact that, on account of his religion, no Catholic
shall sit in Parliament, you do what amounts to the tyranny
of a sect. When you enact that no Catholic shall be a sheriff,
you do what amounts to the tyranny of a sect. When you
enact that no Catholic shall be a general, you do what amounts
to the tyranny of a sect.
2. There are two descriptions of laws,— the municipal law,
which binds the people, and the law of God, which binds the
Parliament and the people. Whenever you do any act which
is contrary to His laws, as expressed in His work, which is the
world, or in His book, the Bible, you exceed your right;
whenever you rest any of your establishments on that excess,'
you rest it on a foundation which is weak and fallacious;
whenever you attempt to establish your government, or your
property, or your Church, on religious restrictions, you estab-
lish them on that false foundation, and you oppose the Al
mighty; and though you had a host of mitres on your side,
you banish God from your' ecclesiastical constitution, and free-
dom from your political.
3. In vain shall men endeavor to make this the cause of
the Cliurch ; they aggravate the crime, by tiie (Miueiivor to
mke their God their fellow in the injustice. Such rights are
809
THE SIXTH REATER.
the rights of ambition ; they are the rights of conquest ; and
in your case, tJiey have bee:, tho rights of suicide. Tliey begin
by attacking liberty; they end by tlie loss of empire !
Henbt Qratuh,.
28. REPLY TO THE DUKE OF GRAFTON.
[The Dnko of Grafton had reproached Lord Thurlow (High ChanccUor of
England), with his plebeian extraction and his recent admlsaion to the
peerage. Lord Thurlow rose from the woolsaclc and advanced slowly
towards the place from which the chancellor generaUy addresses the house;
then fixing on tho dulie the loolc of Jove wlion he grasps the thunder, ha
said In a loud tone of voice, "I am amazea at tho attack which the noblu
lord has made upon me." Then raising his voice— "Yes, my lords. I am
amazed," etc. The effect of this speech, both within tho house and out of it,
was prodigious. It gave Lord Thurlow an ascendency, which no cliauceUor
had ever possessed ; j it Invested him in public opinion with a character of
Independence and honor, and this, though he was ever on the unpopular side
of polities, made him always popular with the people.]
T AM amazed at the attack the noble duke has made oa
-*- me. Yes, my lords, I am amazed at his grace's speech.
The noble duke cannot look before him, behind him, or on
either side of him, without seeing some noble peer 'rho owes
his seat in this house to his successful exertions in the profes-
sion to which I belong. Does he not feel that it is as
/lonorable to owe it to these, as to being the accident of an
accident ?
2. To all these noble lords the language of the noble duke
is as applicable and insulting as it is to myself. But I do not
fear to meet it single and alone. No one venerates the peer.-
age more than I do: but, my lords, I must say, that the
peerage solicited me, not I the peerage.
3. Nay, more : I can say, and will say, that as a peer of
Parliament, as Speaker of this right honorable house, as keeper
of the great seal, as guardian of his majestj^'s conscience, as
lord high chancellor of England, nay, even in that character
alone in which the noble duke would think it an affront to ba
ORATORICAL.
308
(jonniderod, — as a man, I am at this moment as respectable, — 1
beij leave tuo add, — I am at tliia tinio as much respected, us
the proudest peer I uow look dowu upou. Thublow.
29. A COLLISION OP VICES.
[Qborqk Cannino, born in London, 1770.— His father w;ia of Irish descent.
In 1837 he became Prime Minister. The Duko of Wellington, Mr. Peel, and
nearly all his Tory colleagues, throw up their places at oncojon^f hostility
v- Catholic emancipation, which they saw must prevail if he remained in
offlc3— the very two men who, two years after; under the strong compulsioif
of public sentiment carried that same emancipation through both houses of
Parliament ! But they sacrillced Mr. Canning before they could be made to
do it. Mr. Canning Is considered the best model among our orators Of the
idorncd style. No English speaker used thu keen, brilliant weapon of wit so
long, so often, and so effectively as Mr. Canning. His elociucnce was per-
lUMive and impassioned, his reasoning clear and logical, his manner graceful,
mi his expression winning.]
My honorable and learned friend began by telling us that,
after all, hatred is no bad thing in itself. "I hate a
Tory," says my honorable friend ; " and another man hates a
cat ; but it does not follow that he would hunt down the cat,
or I the Tory."
2. Nay, so far from it, hatred, if it be properly managed, is,
according to my honorable friend's theory, no bad preface to a
rational esteem and aflfection. It prepares its votaries for a
reconciliation of differences ; for lying down with their most
inveterate enemies, like the leopard and the kid in the vision
of the prophet. V.a „ •-,
3. This dogma is a little starring, but it is not altogether
without precedent. It is borrowed from a character in a play,
which is, I dare say, as great a favorite with my learned
friend as it is with me,— I mean the comedy of the Rivals ;
ill which Mrs. Malaprop, giving a lecture on the subject ol
marriage to her niece (who is unreasonabU; enough to talk o.
liking, as a necessary preliminary to such a union), says,
"What have you to do with your likings and your preferences,
child? Depend upon it, it is safest to begin with a little
n
:-|.
80i
THE 8IXTH READER.
»v.dMl»ii. I am sure 1 Imted your poor doai u'ldc like a
blackamoor before we wvrv inarriod ; and yet, you know my
dear, what a good wife I mud.' liirn." '
4. Such ,- my learned friend's argument, to a hair. But
finding that this doctrine did not appear to go down* with
the house so i^libly as he had expected, my honorabl,. a,,,]
learned friend presently changed his tack, and put forwanl
a theory, whic'j, whether for novelty or for beauty, I pr,>
nounce to be incomparable ; and, in short, as wanting nothin.
,to recommend it but a slight foundation in truth. °
5. "True philosophy," says my honorable friend "nili
always continue to lead men to virtue by the instrument
ality of their conflicting vices. The virtues, where moro
than one exists, may live harmoniously together; but tlie
vices bear mortal antipathy to one another, and, 'therciuie
furnish to the mpral engineer the power by which lie can
make each keep the other under control."
6. Admirable I but, upon this doctrine, the poor man who
has but one single vice must be in a very bad way. No fuL
crum, no moral power, for effecting his cure f Whereas his
more fortunate neighbor, who has two or more vices in his
composition, is in a fair way of becoming a very virtuous
member of society. I wonder how my learned friend would
like to have this doctrine introduced into his domestic estab-
lishment.
1. For instance, suppose that I discharge a servant because
he IS addicted to liquor, I could not venture to recommend him
ti my honorable and learned friend. It might be the poor
man's only fault, and therefore clearly incorricrible ; but if I
ad the good fortune to find out that he wa« ^iL.. adlicted to
stealing, might I not, with a safe conscienc- ■- -,u ,, ... to my
learned friend with a strong recommendation, saying "I send
you a man whom I know to be a drunkard ; but I am happy
to assure you he is also a thief: you cannot do better than
employ hun ; you will make his drunkenness counteract hi«
':^^--vy.
CANMNa.
mAM-
ORATOBICaL.
805
80. "MEASURES N< T MEN."
TF I am pushed to tho wall, find forced to speak my opiulun,
1 I have no disguise nor renervation :— I d. tliink that this
i8 ii time when the udniinistration of the government ought to
lie in the ablrst and fittest hands ; I do not think the hands in
which it is now placed answer to that description.
?, I do nof ^l•etend to conceal in what quarter I think that
fltn-.'ss most eminently resides ; I do not subscribe to the doc-
triucs uliich have been advanced, that in times like tho
present, the fitness of individuals for their political situation
ig no part of the consideration to which a member of Parlia-
ment may fairly turn his attention.
3. I know not a more solemn or important duty that a raem-
ber of Parliament can have to discharge, tlian by givin<>- at fit
seasons a free opinion upon the character and qualities of pulv
lie men. Away with the cant of " measures, not men I" the idle
supposition that it is the harness, and not the horses, that
draw the chariot along I
4. No, sir ; if the comparison must be made, if the distinc-
tion must be taken, men are every thing, measures compara-
tively nothing. I speak, sir, of times of dilEculty and danger ;
of times when systems are shaken, when precedents and gen
eral rules of conduct fail,
5. Then it is, that not to this or that measure,— however
prudently devised, however blameless in execution,— but to
the energy and character of individuals, a State must bo
indebted for its salvation. Then it is that kingdoms rise or
fall in proportion as they are upheld, not by well-meant
endeavors (laudable though they may be), but by commanding,
overawing talents, — by able men.
6. And what is the nature of the times in which we live?
Look at France, and see what we have to cope with, and con-
sider what has made her what she is. A man I You will tell
me tiiat she was great, and powerful, and formidable before
the days of Bonaparte's government, that he found in hef
If "
I
806
THE SIXTH HEADER.
great physical and moral resources ; that he had but to turn
thetn to account. True, and he did so.
1. Compare the situation in which he found France with
that to which he has raised her. I am no panegyrist of Boiiii.
parte ; but I cannot shut my eyes to the superiority of hU
talents, to the amazing ascendency of his genius. Tell me not
of his measures and his policy. It is his genius, his character
that keeps the world in awe.
8. Sir, to meet, to check, to curb, to stand up against him
we want arras of the same kind. I am far from objecting to
tlie large military establishments which are proposed to you.
I vote for them, with all my heart. But, for the purpose of
coping with Bonaparte, one great, commanding spirit is worth
them all. Camming
81. DANGER OF DELAY.
[So completely had Lord Brougham wrought up his own feelings and
those of his hearers at the close of this speech, that it was nothing strained
or unnatural— it was in fact almost a matter of course— for him to sink down
upon one of his knees at the table where he stood, when he uttered the last
words—" / supplicate you, reject not this bill." But the sacrifice wa.s too great
|or that proud nobility. It was rejected by a majority oiforly-ont^ of whom
wenty-one belonged to the board of bishops of the Established Church.]
MY Lords, I do not disguise the intense solicitude which I
feel for the event of this debate, because I know full
well that the peace of the country is involved in the issue.
I cannot look without dismay at the rejection of the measure.
But grievous as may be the consequences of a temporary de^
feat — temporary it can only be ; for its ultimate and even
epeedy success is certain. Nothing can now stop it.
2. Do not sufiFer yourselves to be persuaded that even if the
present ministers were driven from the helm, any one could
steer you through the troubles which surround you without
reform. But our successors would take .up the task under
circumstances far less auspicious. Under them you would ba
OBATOBICAL.
307
fain to grant a bill compared with which the one we now
proffer you is moderate indeed.
3. Hear the parable of the Sibyl ; for it conveys a wise and
wholesome moral. She now appears at your gate, and offers
you mildly the volumes — the precious volumes of wisdom and
peace. The price she asks is reasonable ; to restore the fran-
chise, which without any bargain you ought voluntarily to
give ; you refuse Ler teraia — her moderate terms — she dark-
ens the porch no longer.
4. But soon, for you cannot do without her wares, you call
her back ; again she comes, but with diminished treasures ;
the leaves of the book are in part torn away by lawless
bands — iu part defaced with characters of blood. But the
prophetic maid had risen in her demands — it is Parliament by
the year — it is vote by the ballot — it is suffrage by the mil-
lion 1
5. From this you turn away indignant, and for the second
time she departs. , Beware of her third coming : for the
treasure you must have, and what price she may next demand
who shall tell ? It may even be the mace which rests upon
that woolsack. What may follow your course of obstinacy, if
persisted iu, I cannot take upon me to predict, nor do I wish
to conjecture.
6. But this I know full well, that as sure as man is mortal,
and to err is human, justice deferred enhances the price at
which you must purchase safety and peace ; nor can you ex-
pect to gather in another crop than they did who went before
you, if you persevere in their utterly abominable husbandry jf^iuft^
of sowing injustice and reaping rebellion.
T. But among the awfiil considerations that now bow down
my mind, there is one which stands pre-eminent above the
rest. You are the highest judicature in the realm ; you sit
here as judges, decide all causes, civil and criminal, without
appual. It is a judge's first duty never to pronounce sen-
tence, in the most trifling case, without hearing. Will yoa
make thin the exception?
808
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
8. Are you really prepared to determine but not to henr
the mighty cause upon which a nation's hopes and fears haii''?
You are. Then beware of your decision ! Rouse nut, J
beseech you, a peace-loving-, but resolute people : alienate not
from j^our body the affections of a whole empire.
9. As your friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend
of my country, as the faithful servant of my 80verci<rn, I
counsel you t > assist with your utmost efforts in preserving
the peace and upholding and perpetuating the constitutiori.
Therefore I pray and exhort you not to reject this measure.
By all you hold most dear — by all the ties that bind every one
of us to our common order and to our common country, I
solemnly adjure you — I warn you — I implore you — yea, ou my
bended knees, I supplicate you — reject not this bill.
LoBD Bbougeam.
83. PARLIAMENTARY REFORM.
[Lord Brougham, bom in Edinburgh, 1779.— He was appointed Lord Cian-
cellor in 1830. Tho bill on Parliamentary Reform, after having passed the
Commons with a large majority, was taken to the House of Lords, the
greater number of whom were known to be bitterly opposed to the measurt.
The great body of tlie nation were equally resolved that it should pass:
petitions came in by thousands from every part of the kingdom, and the feel-
ing seemed universal ^'■through Parliament, or over Parliament, it must bo
carried," For five nights it was discussed in the House of Lords with "a
^o<^«At bMU, force, and variety of argument, which for historical, constitutioniil, and
classical information, was never surpassed." Lord Brougham reserved him-
■ self for the fifth night, and after Lord Eldon had spoken, with all the weight
of his age and authority, against the bill, the Lord Chancellor came down
from the woolsack, to reply in the most powerful speech of the kind that hsd
ever been delivered in the House of Lords. For the characteristics of his
oratory, see the article on '■' Canning and Lord Brougham." In the following
«xtract a rare opportunity is afforded for rhetorical effect. The time is slow,
utterance distinct at the beginning. Pure voice, which, as the student ad-
vances to the parable, wiU increase in force and quality to the orotund— not
the climax of orotund until the student comes to the last paragraph. Tlim
with great earnestness, begin slow, with much feeling in the utterance— and
«£ you near the v^lose, orotund climax — slow lime — high pitch—long pauses—
as if the feeling was ahnost overpowering. Close with elevated, imploring
gestures.]
ORATORICAL.
309
rpHOSE portentous appearances, the growth of later times,
1 those figures that stalk abroad, of unknown stature and
strange form— unions of leagues, and musterings of men in
myriads, and conspiracies against the exchequei^whence do
tliey spring, how come they to haunt our shores? What.,
power engendered these uncouth shapes, wliat multiplied tiie "^"^
ffioistrous births till they people the land ? Trust me, th«
game power which called into frightful existence, and armed
with resistless force the Irish volunteers, 1182— the same
power which rent in twain your empire, and raised up thir-
teen republics— the same power wbich created the Catholic
Association, and gave it Ireland for its portion.
2. Wliat power is that? Justice denied— rights withhetd—
wrongs perpetrated— the force which common injuries lend to
millions— the wickedness of using the sacred trust of govern-
ment as a means of indulging private caprice— the idiocy of
treating Englishmen like the children of the South Sea Islands
-the frenzy of believing, or making believe, that the adulta/'^
of the nineteenth century can be led like children, or driven
like barbarians I
3. This it is that has conjured up the strange sights at 9
which we now stand a^gliasU. And shall we persist in the
fatal error of combating the giant progeny instead of extir-
pating the execrable parent ? Good God 1 Will men never
learn wisdom, even from their own experience? Will they
never believe until it be too late, that the surest way to pre- "
vent immoderate desires being formed, aye, and unjust de- T'*^
mands being forced, is to grant in due season the m^oderate
requests of justice? ^
4. You stand, my lords, on the brink of a great event ; yoi
are in the crisis of a whole nation's hopes and fears. An
awful importance hangs over your decision. Pause ere you
plunge 1 Tl>ere may not be any retreat I It behooves you to
shape your C(juduct by the mighty occasion. They tell you
not to be afraid of personal consequences in discharging your
duty. I, too, would ask you to banish all fears ; but above
810
THE SIXTH RBADEB.
«■■:
all, that most mischievous, most despicable fear—the fear o|
being thought afraid.
6. If you won't take counsi 1 from me, take example from
the statesmaji-like conduct of the noble duke (Wellington),
-vvliile you also look back, as you may with satisfaction, upon
your own. He was told, and you were told, that the impa-
tience of Ireland for equality of civil riglits was partial, tlit
clamor transient, likely to pass away with its temporary occa^
CtAuv sion, and that yielding to it would be conceding to intimidation.
6. I recollect hearing this topic urged within this hall in
1828 J less regularly I heard it than I have now done, for I
belonged not to your number— but I heard it urged in the selt^
same terms. The burden of the cry was : It is no time for
concession ; the people are turbulent, and the association dan-
gerous. That summer passed, and the ferment subsided not-
autumn came, t^ut brought not the precious fruit of peace-orl
the contrary, all Ireland was convulsed with the unprecedented
conflict which returned the great chief of the Catholics to sit
in a Protestant Parliament.
7. Winter bound the earth in chains, but it controlled not
^*M. the popular fury, whose surge, more deafening than the tern-
pest, lashed the frail bulwarks of law founded upon injustice.
Spring came ; but no ethereal mildness was its harbinger or
followed in its train : the Catholics became stronger by every
month's delay, displayed a deadlier resolution, and proclaimed
■ their wrongs in a tone of louder defiance than before. And
what course did you, at this moment of greatest excitement,
and peril, and menace, deem it most fitting to pursue ?
8. Eight months before you had been told how unworthy it
\eould be to yield when men clamored and threatened. No
change had happened in the interval, save that the clamors
were become far more deafening, and the threats, beyond com-
parison, more overbearing. What, nevertheless, did your
lordships do? Your duty: for you despised the cuckoo-note
of the season, "Be not intimidated."
the Irish demanded, and you saved your country
granted uU thai
^
ORATORICAL.
311
9. Was there in April a sinjvio argument advanced which
had not held good in July? None, absolutely none, except
the DOW height to which the danger of long delay had risen,
and the increased vehemence with which justice was de'
Handed ; and yet the appeal to your pride, which had pre-
vailed in July, was in vain made in April, and you wisely and
Patriotically granted what was asked, and ran the risk of
being supposed to yield through fear. But the history of
Catholic claims conveys another important lesson.
10. Though in right, and policy, and justice, the measure of
relief could not be too ample, half as much as was received .
with little gratitude when so late wrung from you, would have'^'''*
been hailed, twenty years before, with delight; and even the^'^''
July preceding the measure would have been received as a
boon freely given, which, I fear, was taken with but sullen
satisfaction in April as a right long withheld.
11. Yet, blessed be God, the debt of justice, though tardily,
was at length paid, and the noble duke won by it civic
honors, which rival nis warlike achievements in lasting bright-
ness—than which there can be no higher praise. What, if he
had still listened to the topics of intimidation and inc'onsis- .
i „ i,:_u i-_j -11. , - o*.
tency^ which had scared his predecessors? He might have
proved his obstinacy, and Ireland would have been sacrificed.
Lord Bbocghajc.
'fr-
83. THT ESTABLISHED CHURCH IN IRELAND.
AF all the institutions now existing in the civilized world,
V/ the Established Church of Ireland seems to me the most
absurd. Is there any thing else like it? Was there ever
»Dy thing else likt, it ? The world is full of ecclesiastical
establishments. Bjjt such a portent as this Church of Ireland
18 nowhere to be found.
2. Look round the continent of Europe. Ecclesiastical
egtablishraents from the White Sea to the Mediterranean,
312
THE SIXTH READER.
P
occleeiastical establishments from the Wolga to the Atlantic-
but nowhere the church of a small minority enjoying exclusive
establishment.
^ 3. Look a,t America 1 There you have all forms of Chris.
tianity, from Mormoiiism— if you call Mormonism Christianity
—to Komanism. In some places you have the voluntaiv
system. In some you have several religions connected with
the State. In some you have the solitary ascendency of a
single church.
4. But nowhere, from the Arctic Circle to Cape Horn, do you
find the church of a small minority exclusively established.
In one country alone— in Ireland alone— is to be seen tlie
spectacle of a community of eight millions of human beings,
with a church which is the church of only eight hundred
thousand I
6. Two hundred and eighty-five years has this church been
at work. What could have been done for it in the way of
authority, privileges, endowments, which has not been done?
Did any other set of bishops and priests in the world evei
receive so much for doing so little ?
6. Nay, did any other set of bishops and priests in the world
ever receive half as much for doing twice as much ? And
what have we to show for all this lavish expenditure? What,
but the most zealous Roman Catholic population on the face
of the earth ? On the great, solid mass of the Roman Catholic
population you have njade no impression whatever. There
they are, us they were ages ago, ten to one against the mera-
,bers of your Established Church. Explain this to me. I
gpeak to you, the zealous Protestants on the other side of the
house. Explain this to me on Protestant principles.
7. !f I were a Roman Catholic, I could easily account for
the phonomenon. If I were a Roman Catholic, I should con-
tent myself with saying that the mighty |?and and the out
Btretchcd arm had been put forth, according to the promise, in
defence of the unchangeable Church ; that He, who, in the old
time, turned into blessings the curses of Balaam, and smote
84. SATIRICAL
ORATORICAL.
813
the host of Sennacherib, had signally confounded the arts and
the power of heretic statesmen.
8. But what is the Protestant to say? Is this a miracle,
that we should stand aghast at it ? Not at all. It is a result
which human prudence ought to have long ago foreseen, and
long ago averted. It is the natural succession of effect to
cause. A church exists for moral ends. A church exists to
be loved, to be reverenced, to be heard with docility, to reign
ii, the understandings and hearts of men. A church which is
abhorred is useless, or worse than useless ; and to quarter a /
hostile church on a conquered people, as you would quarter a
soldiery, is, therefore, the most absurd of mistakes.
T. B. MxoxviXT.
LA^J
YK
U. SATIRICAL EXTRACT PROM A SPEECH OF MR. CANNING
ON THE ADDRESS (1835).
[Satire demands a good-natured, dignified earneatness ; rising or falling cir-
ctanflexes on emphatic words depending upon positive or negative utterances
of irony or satire. The second sentence in the extract below affords a fine
opportunity for these circumflexes. In the quotation the voice should be
raised, and the quotation uttered as if a particular point was to be made All
"Dennis's" speeches should be given with a foolish assuranco-which always
produces exactly the opposite conclusion from what ia intended. Then in
the application, apply the circumflexe8.-See Remarks on Inflection and Cir-
cumflex.]
T NOW turn to that other part of the honorable and learned
A gentleman's (Mr. Brougham) speech, in which he acknowl-
edges his acquiescence in the passages of the Address, echoing-
the satisfaction felt at the success of the liberal commercia
principles adopted by this country, and at the steps taken fo.
recognizing the new States of America.
2. It does happen, however, that the honorable and learned
gentleman, being not unfrequently a speaker in this house,
nor very concise in his speeches, and touching occasion-
illy, as he proceeds, on almost every subject within the range
if his imagination, as well as making some observations on
U
:
'!
r t
814
THE SIXTH READER.
the matters on hand, and having at differf>nt periods prop jscd
and supported every innovation of which the law or constitu-
tion of the country is susceptible,— it is impossible to irirun
rate, withoirt appearing to borrow from him.
3. :^ither, therefore, we must remain forever locked up as
in a northern winter, or we must break our way out by some
node already suggested by the honorable and learned geutle-
nan: and then he cries out, "Ah, I was there before youl
That is what I told you to do ; but, as you would not do it
then, you have no right to do it now,"
4. In Queen Anne's reign there lived a very sage and able
critic, named Dennis, who in his old age was the prey of a
strange fancy, that he had himself written all the good things
in all the good plays that were acted. Every good passage
that he met with in any author he insisted was his o\vn.
"It is none of his," Dennis would always say ; " it is mine."
5. He went one day to see a new tragedy. Nothing par-
ticularly good, to his taste, occurred, till a scene in which a
great storm was represented. As soon as he had heard the
thunder rolling overhead, he exclaimed, "That's my thunder!"
So it is with the honorable and learned gentleman— rV's all his
thunder! It will henceforth be impossible to confer any boon,
or make any innovation, but he will claim it as his thunder.
6. But it is due to him to acknowledge that he does not
claim every thing. He will be content with the exclusive
merit of the liberal measures relating to trade and commerce.
Not desirous of violating his own principles, by claiming a
monopoly of foresight and w'sdom, he kindly throws overboard
to my honorable and learned friend (Sir J. Mackintosh) near
him, the praise of South America.
1. I should like to know whether, in some degree, this also
is not his thunder. He thinks it right in itself; but, lest we
should be too proudj^if he approved our conduct in toto, he
thinks it wrong in point of time. I diflFer from him essentially:
A)r, if I pique myself on any thing in this affair, \i is on the
time.
1%
ORATORICAL.
816
8. That, at some time or other, States which had separated
themselves from the mother-country, .should be admitted to tiio
rank of independent nations is a proposition to which no pos-
siblo dissent could be given. The whole question was one of
time and mode.
9. There were two modes : one a reckless and headlong
course, by which we might have reached our object at once,
but at the expense of drawing upon us consequences not
lightly to be incurred ; the other was more strictly guarded
in point of principle ; so that, while we pursued our own
interes* v we took care to give no just cause of' offence to
other powers, while we acted in obedience to a sound and
enlightened policy. Cahhiso.
85.
DECLARATION OF IRISH RIGHTH.
[Henry Grattan, born in Dublin, 1746 ; died, 1820. Tlie history of tliks .v^-.a
man. from Ins entrance into the Irish Parliament, in 1775, down to its extinc-
tion, is the history of Ireland's mos. splendid epoch. He achieved her trU
nmpl,, estabhshed her rights, and, at the hazard of his life, confronted her
enemies. His voice penetrated the recesses of the treasury, and peculation
ceased. He revealed the abuses against the Church, and religion blessed
him. He disdained the gold, and defied the vengeance of the Castle and its
power, and its minions cowered before him. Ever^ measure which tenued to
the digmty or prosperity of Ireland, he either originated or advanced. Free
rade, legislative independence, and final judicature, head a list of boons and
nuinplis exclusively his own ; andhe was an earnest of the entire emancip;^.
tionof Catholics from the shameful and outrageous disabiUtiea imposed on
iiimhy EngUBh lif>er(Uiti/ and toUriinct.'"]
OIR, I have entreated an attendance on this day, that you
^ might, in the most public manner, deny the claim of the
British Parliament to make law for Ireland, and with one
voice lift up your hands agairst it. England now smarts
under the lesson of the American war ; her enemies are a host
pouring upon her from all quarters of the earth; her armies
are dispersed; the sea is not hers; she has no minister no
ally, no admiral, none in whom she long confides, and no gon.
era! whom she has not disgraced ; the balance of her fate ia
C**«A*.
3!^
816
THia SIXTH /tEADER.
in the hands of Irelanrl ; you are not only her last con-
nection, — you are the only nation in Europe that is not her
enemy,
2. Let corruption tremble ; but let the friends of liberty re-
ioice at these means of safety, and this hour of redemptidii.
You have done too much not to do more ; you have gone; tou
far not to go on ; you have brought yourselves into tlnu
situation iu which you must silently abdicate the rights of
your country, or publicly restore them. Where is the freodom
of trade f Where is the security of property ? Where is the
liberty of the people?
3. I therefore say, nothing is safe, satisfactory, or honora-
ble, nothing except a declaration of rights. WliAt I are you,
with three hundred thousand men at your bock, with charters
iu one hand and arras in the other, afraid to say you are a free
people? If England is a tyrant, it is you who have made her
so ; it is the slave that makes the tyrant, and then murmurs
at the master whom he himself has constituted.
4. The British minister mistakes the Irish character ; had
he intended to make Ireland a slave. ',3 should have kept her
a beggar. There is no middle policy : win her heart by the
restoration of her rights, or cut oflf the nation's right hand;
greatly emancipate, or fundamentally destroy. We may talk
plausibly to England, but so long as she exercises a power to
bind this country, so long are the nations in a state of war;
the claims of the one go against the liberty of the other, and
the sentiments of the latter go to oppose those claims to the
last drop of her blood.
6. The English opposition, therefore, are right; mere
tradd will not satisfy Ireland. They judge of us by other
great nations ; by the nation whose political life has
been a struggle for liberty, — America! They judge of ug
with a true knowledge and just deference for our character;
that a country enlightened as Ireland, chartered as Ireland,
armed as Ireland, and injured as Ireland, will be satisfied witfe
uothing less thau liberty.
i i
OlATORICAL.
817
6. I might, as a constituent, come to your bar and demand
my liberty. I do cull upon you, by the laws of the land and
tlieir violation, by tlie instruction of eighteen centuries, by the
arms, inspiration, and providence of the present moment, tell
UH the rule by which we shall go ; ass.-rt the law of Ireland ;
declare the liberty of the land. I will not be answered by a
iiblic lie in the shape of an amendment ; neither, speaking
for the subject's freedom, am I to hear of faction.
1. I wish for nothing but to breathe, in this our island, in
common with my fellow-subjects, the air of liberty. I have
no ambition, unless it be the ambition to break your chain,
and contemplate your glory. I never will be satisfied so long
as the meahest cottager in Ireland has a link of the British Aat.--*^
chain clanking to his rags. He may be naked,— he shall not
be in iron.
8. And I do see the time is at hand, the spirit is gone forth,
the declaration is planted ; and though great men hhonld apos'
tatize, yet the cause will live ; and though the public speaker
siK uld die, yet the immortal fire shall outlast the organ which
conveyed it, and the breath of liberty, like the word of the
boly man, will not die with the prophet, hut survive him.
Gbattah.
uM •
m
m
1. 1
86. REPLY TO MB. FLOOD, 1783.
[At the time of thiB speech in the Irish Parliament, Flood and Grattan
•Ithou-h previously friends, stood before the British public as rival leaders'
A bitter animosity had arisen between them; and Grattan having unfortu-
nately led the way in personality, by speaking of his opponent's "affectation
of inflrnnty," Flood replied with f reat asperity, denouncing Grattan as "a
mendicant patriot," who, "bought by his country for a sum of money, then
«.kl his country for prompt payment." He also sneered at Grattan's " aping >t^u4«
the style of Lord Chatham." To these taunts Grattan repUed in a speech an
abridgment pf which wo here give.] rW'^'JW*
TT is not the slander of an evil tongue that can defame
■*■ me. I maintain my reputation in public and in private
life. No man, who has not a bad character, can ever say that
818
THE BIXTH READER.
aMi>4'
(•*«-^.
I deceived. No country can call me a ch«'at. But I will pup.
po80 such a public clianictcr. I will suppose such a man tc
have existence. I will b(;j^in with his character in his politj.
cal cradle, aud I will follow him to the last stage of pi;Iitii;al
dissolution.
2. I will suppose him, in the first stage of his life, to have
been intemperate ; in the second, to have been corrupt ; and
in the last, seditious ; that, after an envenomed attack on tlio
persons and measures of a succession of viceroys, and after
much declamation against their illegalities and their profusii^n,
he took office, and became a supporter of government, wlien
the profusion of ministers had greatly increased, and tlicir
crimes multiplied beyond example.
3. Witli regard to the liberties of America, which were
inseparable from ours, I will suppose this gentleman to have
been an enemy, decided and unreserved ; that he voted against
oer liberty, and voted, moreover, for an address to send four
thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans;
that he called these butchers " armed negotiators," and stood
jeith a metaphor in his mouth and a bribe in his pocket, a
ihampioa against the rights of America, — of America, the
only hope of Ireland, and the only refuge of the liberties of
(naukind.
4. Tlius defective in every relationship, whether to consti-
tution, coinmerce, and toleration, I will suppose this man to
have added much private improbity to public crimes ; that his
probity was like his patriotism, and his honor on a level with
his oath. He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. I will
interrupt him and say :
5. Sir, you are much mistaken if you think that your talents
have been as great as your life has been reprehensible. You
began your parliamentary career with an acrimony and per-
Bonality which could have been justified onlj- by a supposition
of virtue ; after a rank and clamorous opposition, you became,
on a sudden, silent ; you were silent for seven years ; you
were silent ou the greatest questions, and you were silent for
money 1
you, the Americ
say to your beai
ORATORIC^
819
6. You Hupportinl the uiiparalloled profusion and jobbing of
Lord Harcourts scandalouB ministry. You, sir, who manu-
facture stage thundc against Mr. Edou for his anti-American
principles, — you, sir, whom it pleases to chant a hymn to the
immortal Hampden ;— you, sir, approved of the tyranny exer-
cised against America, — and you, sir. voted four thousand
Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans fighting foi
their freedom, fighting for your freedom, fighting for the great
principle, liberty!
7. But you found, at last, that the court had bought, but
would not trust you. Mortified at the discovery, you try the
Borry game of a trimmer iu your progress to the acts of au
incendiary ; and observing, with regard to prince and people,
the most impartial treachery and desertion, you justify the
suspicion of your sovereign by betraying tlie government, as
you had sola the people.
8. Such has been your conduct, and at such conduct every
order of your fellow-subjects have a right to exclaim 1 The
merchant may say to you, the couHiitutionalist may say to
you, the American may say to you, — and I, I now say, and
say to your beard, air, — you are not an honest man !
Grattah.
j.^
q
^'j
••«?
ivfe
/
%^'
1
87. THE IRISH PARLIAMENT.
THE Parliament of Ireland 1^-of that assembly T have a
parental recollection. I sate by her cradle, — I followed
uer hearse I In fourteen years she acquired for Ireland what
you did not acquire for England in a century, — freedom of
trade, independency of the legislature, independency of the
judges, restoration of the final judicature, repeal of a perpet-
ual mutiny bill, habeas corpus act, nullum tempus act, — a
great work 1
8. You will exceed it, and I shall rejoice. I call my coun:
Uli:.
tf"'''''ir'1' ■;'if''!U
iy»n.
1
320
THE SIXTH READER.
tiymen to witness, if in that busiuoss I have compiomised
the claims of my country, or temporized with the power of
England ; but there was one thing which baffled the effort of
the patriot, and defeated the wisdom of the Senate, — it was
the folly of the theologian I
3. When the Parliament of Ireland rejected the Catholic
petition, and assented to the calumnies then uttered against
vhe Catholic body, on that day she voted the Union: if
you should adopt a similar conduct, on that day you will
vote the separation. Many good and pious reasons you
may give ; many good and pious reasotis sJie gave ; and sho
lies THERE, with her many good and pious reasons I
4. That the Parliament of Ireland should have entertained
prejudices, I am not astonished; but that you, — that you, who
have as individuals and as conquerors, visited a great part of
the globe, and haie seen men in all their modifications, and
Providence in all her ways, — that you, now, at this time of
day, should throw up dikes against the Pope, and barriers
against the Catholic, instead of uniting with that Catholic to
throw up barriers against the French, this surprises ; and, in
addition to this, that you should have set up the Pope in
Italy, to tremble at him in Ireland ; and, further, that you
should have professed to have placed yourself at the head
of a Christian, not a Protestant league, to defend the civil
and religious liberty of Europe, and should deprive of their
civil liberty one-fifth of yourselves, on account of their reli-
gion, — this — this surprises me 1
5. This proscriptive system you may now remove. What
the best men in Ireland wished to do, but could not do, you
may accomplish. Were it not wise to come to a good under-
standing with the Irish now ? The franchises of the Constitu-
tion I — your ancestors were nursed in that cradle. The ances-
tors of the petitioners were less fortunate,
6. The posterity of both, born to new and strange dan-
gers,— let them agree to renounce jealousies and proscriptions,
iu order to oppose what, without that agreement, will ovef
ORATORICAL.
^21
power both. Half Europe is in battalion against us, and wb
are devoting one another to perdition on account of mys-
teries,— when we should form against the enemy, and march I
Obattaii.
83. THE O-KAVANAGH.
mHE Saxons had met, and the banquet was spread,
J- And the wine in fleet circles the jubilee led;
And the banners that hung round the festal that night,
Seemed brighter by far than when lifted in fight.
n.
In came the O'Kavanagh, fair as the morn,
When earth to new beauty and vigor is born •
They shrank from his glance, like the waves from the prow,
For nature's nobility sat on his brow.
ni.
Attended alone by his vassal and bard
No trumpet to herald, no clansmen to guard— .
He came not attended by steed or by steel:
No danger he knew, for no fear did he feel
IV.
In eye and on lip his high confidence smiled—
So proud, yet so knightly— so gallant, yet mild ;
He moved like a god through the light of that hall,
And a smile, full of courtliness, proffered to all.
"Come pledge us, lord chieftain 1 come pledge us!" they crip.!-
Unsuspectingly free to the pledge he replied : '
And this was the peace-branch O'Kavanagh bore—
"The friendships to come, not the feuds that are o'er I"
14*
322
THE SIXTH KBADEB.
VI.
But, minstrel, why cometh a chauge o'er thy theme?
Why sing of red battle— what dream dost thou dream?
Hal "Treason!" 's the cry, and "Revenge!" is the call,
As the swords of the Saxon surrounded the hall]
VII.
A kingdom for Angelo's mind ! to portray
Green Erin's undaunted avenger that day; ')V(\pyu—
The far-flashing sword, and the deatli-dartin^ eye,
Like some comet commissioned with wrath from the sky.
vni.
Through the ranks of the Saxon he hewed his red way-
Through lances, and sabres, and hostile array ;
And, mounting his, charger, he left them to tell
Tile tale of that feast, and its bloody farewell.
ix.
And now on the Saxons his clansmen advance,
With a shout from each heart, and a soul in each lance;
He rushed, like a storm, o'er the night-covered heath,
And swept through their ranks, like the angei of death.
Then hurrah ! for thy glory, young chieftain, hurrah !
Oh ! had we such lightning-souled heroes to-day,
Again would our "sunburst" expand in the gale.
And Freedom exult o'er the green Innisfail 1
J. AuousTDs Smu.
30. ON AMERICAN TAXATION.
[Bnrke is the greatest of Irish statesmen, and unsurpassed as a writer; by
nniversal consent Lc stands equal to Lord Chatham. As an orator, he derived
UtUe advantage from personal qualifications ; bia voice and dclivcrj- wore not
good, hut the extent and variety of his powers in debate were greater than
that »f any other orator in a&oioQt or modsru times. Whoa ho rose to gly«
ORATORICAL.
323
Big speech on American taxation, the evening was far adyanced; the debate
was dull, and many of the members had withdrawn to neighboring rooms.
The first sentences of his wonderful exordium awakened universal attention •
too report of what was going on spread in every direction, and the mem))w
came crowding back until the hall was crowded to overflowing, and it r*
wunded throughout the speech with the loudest expressions of applaiuic
Lord Townsend exclaimed, at the close of one of those powerful passage* in
which the speech abounds : " Heavens, what a man is this ! Where could 1.
acquire such transcendent powers ?" CoL Barre, in the fervor of liis excit.
ment, declared that If it could be written out he would nail it on every
church door in the kingdom. Gov. Johnston said " it was fortunate for the
noble lords (North and Germaine) that spectators had been excluded during
the debate, for if any had been present they would have excited the people to
tear the noble lords in pieces on their way home." j
nOULD any thing be a subject of more just alarm to America,
V than to see you go out of the plain high road of finance,'
and give up your most certain revenues and your clearest in-
terests, merely for the sake of insulting your colonies? No
man ever doubted that the commodity of tea could bear an
imposition of three-pence. But no commodity will bear three-
pence, or will bear a penny, when the general feelings of men
are irritated, and two millions of men are resolved not to pay.
2. The feelings of the colonies were formerly the feelings
of Great Britain. Theirs were formerly the feelings of Mr.
Hampden, when called upon for the payment of twenty shil-
lings. Would twenty shillings have ruined Mr. Hampden's
fortune? No! but the payment of half twenty shillings, on
the principle it was demanded, would have made him a slave !
3. It is the weight of that preamble, of which you are so
fond, and not the weight of the duty, that the Americans are
unable and unwilling to bear. You are, therefore, at this mo-
ment, in the awkward situation of fighting for a phantom • a
quiddity; a thing that wants, not only a substance, but even
a name ; for a thing which is neither abstract right, nor piuf-
'table enjoyment.
4. They tell you, sir, that yoqr dignity is tied to it. I know
not how it happens, but this dignity of yours is a terrible in=
cumbrance to you ; for it has of late been ever at war with
your interest, your equity, aijd every idea of your policy
324
THE SIXTH READER.
Itv
Show the thing you contend for to be reason, show it to l«
common sense, show it to be the means of obtaining some use-
ful end, and then I am content to allow it what dignity tqi,
please. But what dignity is derived from the perseveiance in
absurdity, is more than I ever could discern I
5. Let us, sir, embrace some system or other before we end
this session. Do you mean to tax America, and to draw a
productive revenue from thence? If you do, speak out:
name, fix, ascertain this revenue ; settle its quantity; define
its objects ; provide for its collection; and then fight, when
you have something to fight for. If you murder, rob ; if you
kill, take possession : and do not appear in the character of
madmen, as well as assassins,— violent, vindictive, bloody, and
tyrannical, without an object. But may better counsels guide
^ Burke.
40. ENTERPRISE OF AMERICAN COLONISTS.
"POR some time past, Mr. Speaker, has the Old World beer
A fed from the New. The scarcity which you have felt
would have been a desolating famine, if this child of your old
age,— if America,— with a true filial. piety, with a Roman
charity, had not put the full breast of its youthful exuberance
to the mouth of its eihausted parent.
2. Turning from the agricultural resources of the colonies,
consider the wealth which they have drawn from the sea by
their fisheries. The spirit in which that enterprising employ-
ment has been exercised ought to raise your esteem and ad-
miration. Pray, sir, what in the world is equal to it? Pass
by the other parts, and look at the manner in which the people
^ ^of New England have of late carried on the whale fishery.
v-^"^^ 3. While we follow them among the tumbling mountains of
ice, and behold them penetrating into the deepest frozen re-
wsses of Hudson's Bay and JDavis' Straits, while we are look-
ing for them beiioaih the Arctic Circle, we hear that they have
pierceci into the opposite region of Polar cold, that they are at
OBATOBICAL.
325
the antipodes, and engaged under the frozen serpent of the
South.
4. Falkland Island, which seemed too remote and romantic ;
an object for the grasp of national ambition, is but a stage
and resting-place in the progress of their victorious industry.
Nor is the equinoctial heat more discouraging to them than
the accumulated winter of both the Poles. We know that
while some of them draw the line and strike the harpoon on
the coast of Africa, others run the longitude, and pursue their
gigantic game, along the coast of Brazil.
6. No sea but what is vexed by their fisheries. No climate
that is not witness to their toils. Neither the perseverance of
Holland, nor the activity of France, nor the dexterous and
firm sagacity of English enterprise, ever carried this most
perilous mode of hardy industry to the extent to which it has
been pushed by this recent people ; a people who are still, as
it were, but in the gristle, and not yet hardened i.^.to the bone
of manhood. '"^'^
6. When I contemplate these things,— when J know that
the colonic, in general owe little or nothing to any care of
ours, and that they are not squeezed into this hapf y form by ivA*^-.
the constraints of a watchful and suspicions governuient, but
that, through a wise and salutary neglect, a generous nature
has been suffered to take her own way to perfection,-' when I
reflect upon these effects, when I see how profitable tho^ have
been to us, I feel all the pride of power sink, and all pre^omp-
tion in the wisdom of human contrivances melt, and die r^waj
within me. My rigor relents. I pardon soinothing tc the
Bpirit of liberty. 3^^
41. PANDEMONIUM.
QINCB I had the honor, I should say, the dishonor, of sittiM*
^ in this house, I have been witness to many str^^nge, many
infamous transactions. What can be your intention in attack-
820
THE 8IXTH READER.
U 1
0^
ing all honor and virtue. Do you mean to bring all n)en to a
level with yourselves, and to extirpate all honor and indepen-
dence I Perhaps you imagine a vote will settle the who!*.
con ti overs J.
2. Alas ! you are not aware that the manner in which your
vote is procured is a secret to no man. Listen : for if you
are not totally callous, if your consciences are not seare d
will speak daggers to your souls, and wake you to all the hell'o^
guilty recollection. I will follow you with whips and stings]
L through every maze of your unexampled turpitude, and plant
thorns under the rose of ministerial approbation.
3. You have flagrantly violated justice and the law of the
land, and opened a door for anarchy and confusion. After
assuming an arbitrary dominion over law and justice, you
issue orders, warrants, and proclamations, against every oppo-
uent, and send Rrisoners to your Bastile all those who have
the courage and virtue to defend the freedom of their country.
4. But it is in vain that you hope by fear and terror to ex-
tinguish the native British fire. The more sacrifices, the more
martyrs you make, the more numerous the sons of liberty
will become. They will multiply like the hydra, and burl
vengeance on your heads. Let others act as they will ; while
I have a tongue, or an arm, they shall be free.
5. And that I may not be a witness of these monstrous
proceedings, I will leave the house ; nor do I doubt but every
independent, every honest man, every friend to England, will
follow me. These walls are unholy, baleful, deadly, whilu a
prostitute majority holds the bolt of parliamentary power
and hurls its vengeance only upon the virtuous. To your
•elves, tlierefore, I consign you. Enjoy your pandemonium !
BUBKE.
...those of mori
49. IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN HASTINGS.
[This speech has been eliaractcrized aa the greatest InteUectnal effort ever
made before the Parliament ol Great Britain. Burke a«toni8h«d «T«a thoM
ORATORICAL.
327
rho were mo8t intimntnly acquainted with him by the vn^t extent of hi,
reading, the variety of his re8ourop.s fh„ rr,i„. * x , . «^^K3ni oi ma
i„b cmps were pitched , from ,he to™,. b„mml„. l,te bedXe,* ,h 1
TI|Y Lords, I do not mean now to go further than just to
•^'J- remind your lordships of this-that Mr. Hastings' gov-
ernment was one whole system of oppression, of robbery of
individuals, o spoliation of the public, and of suppression of
the whole system of the English Government, in order to vest
m the worst of the natives all the power that could possibly
exist m any government; in order to defeat the ends which
all governments ought, in common, to have in view. In the
name of the Commons of England, I charge all this villainy
upon Warren Hastings, in this last moment of my application
to you, ^ ^
2. My lords, what is it that we want here, to a great act
of national justice ? Do we want a cause, my lords f You
have the cause of oppressed princes, of undone women of the
first rank, of desolated provinces, and of wasted kingdoms
3 Do you want a criminal, my lords ? When was there so
much iniquity ever laid to the charge of any one ?-No my
t^'lT ""w "'' ^°"'' '' P""'^^ ""y «t^^^^- ««-h delinquent
from India. Warren Hastings has not left substance enou..b
:n India to nourish such another delinquent.
4. My lords, is it a prosecutor you want? You have be-
ore you the Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors : and T
boueve my lords, that the sun, in his beneficent proo-;es8
round the world, does not behold a more glorious sight than
328
THE SIXTH READER.
that of men, separated from a remote people by the material
bounds and barriers of nature, united by the bond of a social
and moral coniraunity ;— all the Commons of England resent-
ing, as their own, the indignities and cruelties thet are offered
to all the people of India,
5. Do we want a tribunal ? My lords, no example of an-
iquity, nothing in the modern world, nothing in the range of
Auman imagination, can supply us with a tribunal like this.
We commit safely the interests of India and humanity into
your hands. Therefore, it is with confidence that, ordered by
the Commons,
6. I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high crimes and
misdemeanors.
1. I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great
Britain, in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust
he has betrayed. <
8. I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great
Britain, whose national character he has dishonored.
9. I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose
laws, rights, and liberties, he has subverted ; whose properties
he has destroyed ; whose country he has laid waste and
desolate.
10. I impeach him in the name and by virtue of those eter-
nal law3 of justice which he has violated.
11. I impeach him in the name of human nature itself,
which he has cruelly outraged, injured, and oppressed, in both
Hexes, in every age, rank, situation, and condition of life.
BUBKE.
P
I"
It!.
48. PERORATION TO THE IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN
HASTINGS.
[This speech lasted four days. It was in the darliest season of the Frenclj
Revolution— a few days before the fall of Robespierre, when the British em.
piro was agitated with conflicting passions, and fears were entertained by
many of secret conspiracies to overthrow the government To these Musi
Bnrku referred at the ciose of his peroration, which has a grandeur and
•olemnity becoming the conclusion of such a trial]
ORATORICAL.
329
M
■IHA,
Y Lordp. T have done I The pa., of the Commona is cou-
cluded 1 With a trembling hand, we consign the product
or these long, long labors to your charge. Take it! Take it t
It is a sacred trust I Never before was a cause of such mag-
mtude suhmitted to any human tribunal !
2. My lords, at this awful close, in the name of the Commons,
and surrounded by them, I attest the retiring, I attest the ad-
vancing generations, between which, as a link in the chain oi
eternal order, we stand.
3. We call this nation, we call the world, to witness, that ^
the Commons have shrunk from no labor ; that we have been^^'T^
guilty of no prevarications ; that we have made no compromise
with crime ; that we have not feared any odium whatsoever,
m the long warfare which we have carried on with the crimes
the vices, the exorbitant wealth, the enormous and overpower'
ing influence of Eastern corruption.
4. A business which has so long occupied the councils and
tribunals of Great Britain, cannot possibly be hurried over in
the course of vulgar, trite, pnd transitory events. Nothing
but some of those great revolutions that break the tradition,
ary chain of human memory, and alter the very face of naturu
itself, can possibly obscure it. My lords, we are all elevated
to a degree of importance by it. The meanest of us will, by
means of it, become more or less the concern of posterity.
5. My lords, your house yet stands; it stands, a great
edifice ; but, let me say, it stands in the midst of ruins— in
the midst of ruins that have been made by the greatest moral
earthquake that ever convulsed and shattered this globe of
onrs My lords, it has pleased Providence to place us in such
a state, that we appear every moment to be on the verge of
fiome great mutation.
6. There is one thing, and one thing only, that defies muta-
tion— that which existed before the world itself. I mean jus-
tice : that justice which, emanating from the Divinity, ha« a
place in the breast of every one of us, given us for our guide
With regard to ourselves, and with regard to others; and
nrfi 1
V'i
830
THE SIXTH READER.
which will stand after this globe is burne'd to ashes, o«r advo
cate or our accuser before the great Judge, when He comes to
call upon us for the tenor of a well-spent life.
1. My lords, the Commons will share in every fate with your
lordships. There is notuing sinister which can happen to you
^ m which we are not involved. And if it should so happeu
that your lordships, stripped of all the decorous distinctions of
human society, should, by hands at once base and cruel be
led to those scaffolds and machines of murder upon wi'ich
great kmgs and glorious queens have shed their blood amid
the prelates, the nobles, the magistrates who supported their
thrones, may you in those moments feel that consolation which
I am persuaded they felt in the critical moments of their
dreadful agony | * * *
8. My lords, if you must fall, may you so fall I But if you
«tand-and stand, I trust you will, together with the fortuneB
of this ancient monarchy; together with the ancient laws and
liberties of this great and iUubtrious kingdom— may you staud
«ia unimpeached in honor as in power 1 May you stand not
as a substitute for virtue ; may you stand, and long stand' the
terror of tyrants ; may you stand, the refuge of afflicted na-
tions; may you stand, a sacred temple for the perpetual
residence of inviolable justice 1
Bdbkb.
44. HTDER ALI'S INVASION OP THE CARNATIC.
[This is taken from Burke's great speech on the "Nabob of Arcot's Debts "
In which for nearly five hours this unrivaled orator poured out his feeling
with an ardor and impetuosity which he had never before equaled In rh^
to ncal address, vivid painting, lofty declamation, bitter sarcasm, and wither
Ing invective it surpasses aU Lis other speeches. His description of Hydei
Ah sweepmg over the Carnatic with fire and sword is the most eloquent
passage he ever produced. Lord Brougham has pronounced this speech "by
tor the best of aU Mr. Burke's orations."]
\rr HEN at length Hyder Ali found that he had to do with
men who either would sign no convention, or whom no
ri 1" J rrp *ȣ! rt j^ f^ J. U
ilf
ORATORICAL.
331
treaty and no signature could bind, and who were the deter-
mined enemies of human intercourse itself, he decreed to
make the country possessed by these incorrigible and pre
destinated criminals a memorable example to mankind
2. He resolved, in the gloomy recesses of a mind cupacioua
of such things, to leave the whole Carnatic an everlasting
monument of vengeance, and to put perpetual desc.lation as I
barrier between him and those against whom the faith which
holds tue moral elements of the world together was no pre
tection. He became at length so confident of his force so
collected in his might, that he made no secret whatsoever of
his dreadful resolution.
3 Having terminated his disputes with every enemy and
every rival, who buried their mutual animosities in their
common detestation against the creditors of the Nabob of
Arcot, he drew from every quarter whatever a savage ferocity
conld add to h,s new rudiments in the arts of destruction-
and compounding all the materials of fury, havoc, and de.c^^i^^
nation into .one black cloud, he hung for a while on the de- ^
plivities of the mountains,
4. While the authors of all these evils were idly and
8 upidly gazing on this menacing meteor, which blackened
all their horizon, it suddenly burst, and poured down the
whole of Its contents upon the plains of the Carnatic. Then
ensued a scene of woe, the like of which no eye had seen, no
heart conceived, and which no tongue can adequately tell
6. All the horrors of war before known or heard of were
mercy to that new havoc. A storm of universal fire blasted
every field, consumed every house, destroyed every temple
6. The^ miserable inhabitants, flying from their flamin-g
villages, m part were slaughtered ; others, without regard to
sex to age, to the respect of rank, or sacredness of function •
fathers torn from children, husbands from wives, enveloped in
a whirlwind of cavalry, and, amid the goading spears of ^''
-•-.. ««d .he tiamplmg of pursuing horses, were swept imto
captivity, m an unknown and hostile land.
u^i^^'^
333
THR SIXTH READF.B
v^'
MV*y^
1. Those who wcro able to cradc this tempest fled to thn
walled cities, but, escapir.nr fn,m fire, sword, and evil,, tliev
fell into the jaws of famine. The alms of the K(.ttl..,n.M|
(Madras), in this dreadful exigency, were certainly lib,,-,)
and all was done by charity that private charity could do '
but It was a people in beggary ; it was a nation whicli
8ti etched out its hands for food.
8. For months together these creatures of sufferance whose
very excess and luxury in their most plenteous days hul
fallen short of the allowance of our austerest f'>8t8 silont
patient, resigned, without sedition or disturbance,' almost
without complaint, perished by a hundred a day in the streets
of Madras; every day seventy at least laid their bodies in
the streets, or on the glacis of Tanjore, and expired of famine
in the granary of India.
9. I was going to awake your justice towards this unhappy
part of our fellow-citizens, by bringing before you some of
the circumstances of this plague of hunger. Of all the calam-
ities which beset and waylay the life of man, this comes the
nearest to our heart, and is that wherein the proudest of us
all feels himself to be nothing more than he is. But I find
myself unable to manage it with decorum.
10. These details are of a species of horror so nauseous and
disgusting ; they are so degrading to the stifferers and to the
hearers ; they are so humiliating to human nature itself, that
on better thoughts, I find it more advisable to throw a pall
over this hideous object, and to leave it to your general con-
ceptious.
11. For eighteen months, without intermission, this do-
Btruction raged from the gates of Madras to the gates of Tan-
jore ; and so completely did these masters in their art, Hyde
AH and his more ferocious son (Tippoo Saib), absolve them
selves of their impious vow, that when the British armies
traversed, as they did, the Carnatic, for hundreds of miles in
all directions, through the whole line of their march they did
liOt see one man— not one woman— not one child— not one
ORATORICAL.
four-footed beast ^f any description whatever 1
uniform silence re.gned over the whole n-g.on.
88S
One dead,
45. MAKIS ANTOINETTE. QUEEN OF LOUIS XVL
TT is nov.. sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the 0„een
i of France, then the Dauphiness, at Versailles ; ad st • ^
decorating and cheerin,tLX.:;:dC:l:s;:^
2. Oh, what a revolution 1 and what a heart must : have
contornplate. without emotion, that elevation and that Zll
3. I thought ten thousand words mn<,t hn^, i
their scahhRi-^o t^ * "^^^ leaped from
lueir scauDaids to aveno-p ,.vpn 'i ir.oU +i. i. xi
of Europe ,8 exting„i8l,ed forever I Never ulJrr.,!,
webebold that go,,,.,,,,,, ,„,a,t, to raara '/ eT t" ": ' '
««bm,s8ion, that di^uified obedionee tb„t =,.i 7 ^ ^
rrtet^r^:"'-- -^^^^^^^^^^^^
;-"::?ra^r;r:i't;drr„t^e^:^:~"',
WM.0 « ^H,a.r r:x;anreroCi;r t :::?;
and under wh.VK ^;«^ :x__,p , , , ,^ . *^"»ievei it touched.
•-^- itai;!! lost half Its evil bv lo^in«. oil •*■
grussness. -^ '"^"^g all ita
Burke.
Sji
IS
^ii
:j^
W'
BmneamA
S34
THE SIXTH READEB.
46. THE TITHE BILLS.
[An able British reviewer gives the following able criticism of 0'Ck)nnell,
as an orator :
O'Connell was successful alilie at the bar, In the senate, and before at,-
eembled thousands of his fellow-citizens and fellow-countrymen, exhibiting
un almost solitary instance of eminence in the various modifications of gtyio
necessary for his different audiences. O'Connell occupies one of the higliest
stations among modem orators. The whole course of his eloquence, as well
in Parliament as out of doors, is rapid and sonorous, and whenever he
spoke he bends, or sways, or alarms, or soothes, at pleasure, the passions of
his hearers. He was toaster of the eloquenco which sometimes tears up all
before it,like a whirlwind or at other times steals imperceptibly upon ths
senses and probes to the bottom of the heart— eloquence which engrafts
opinions that are new, and eradicates the old. In graphic and heart-rendins
descriptions of scenes, whether of weal or of woe, O'Connell surpassed all
competitors. Most soul-stirring was the debate'on the Irish tithe bill, when
he thus depicted the scenes of blood that had been perpetrated in Ireland.
1835.] ^
rpHE tithe bills ,were continued ; laws passed, with some
-*- cessation from time to time, but the innate sense of in-
justice, the conviction of wrong, arising from the payment of
a sinecure Protestant clergy by a Catholic population, over-
turned the boundaries of -law ; broke asunder the parchmenl
chains of the acts of Parliament ; the dungeons were filled,
the convict ship was crowded, even the scaffold was reared,
and blood has been shed in oceans, but shed in vain.
2. Is it not time to put an end to such scenes of atrocity?
Blood is flowing still ; even now, is not Rathcormac red with
CaJWt human gore ? I do not mean to canvass the merits of this
melancholy event, which is under progress of legal inquiry
but two magistrates, who are implicated in the matter, have
presided over the investigation.
3. A poor woman has been examined. Have honorable mem-
bers read her statement ? The mother was with her child in
the morning. After the affray, she went out to look for her
flon. The first body she turned over she shouted for joy.
Why? Because human blood had bee^ spilled? Because the
life of a human being had been sacrificed? Ah I no; but
because it happened not to have been her son.
ORATORICAL.
885
4. She had a similar shout of joy looking in the coun.
tenance of the second murdered man ; but the third was her
BOD ; from that moment her eyeballs became as coals of fire
and she did not shed a single tear. That woman's tears have
not yet begun to flow. When is she to have redress? She
iB to have no redress, and the cause of her woe, the grand evil,
B still to remain in Ireland.
6. We are still to follow up the old cause, giving new acta
of Parliament, but no new principle, no new spirit unknown
to our predecessors, and leaving all the evils of the tithe
system substantially untouched and in full operation. What
(Joes it signify whether the designation be tithe or tithe com
position, or land tax, or rent charge ; magical as nanie^ are
supposed to be, will that verbal magic do away with the in-
tolerable, interminable injustice of the impost, so obnoxious
^^^''^ 0'Co««,rx.
47. THE TAIL.
[In one of O'ConneU's speeches he remarked that "it is consistent with the
genios and disposition of my country to mix merriment with woe, and the
wnnd of laughter is often heard while the soul is wrung with bitter anguish,
and the tear of sorrow dims the cheek." In accordance with this national
characteristic, he occasionaUy gave vent to the most ludicrous remarks, aa l^^^
when, in his great speech on the Reform Bill, he laughingly described the de-
lertlon of Lord Stanley and his followers from the ranks of the Reformers.]
TI^HAT are we to call the section of the house over which
** the noble lord (Stanley) presides? It is not a party ;—
that he denies ; it is not a faction ;— that would be a harsher fu-
title. I will give it a name. We ought to call it "the Tail."
2. How delightful would it be to see it walking in St. James'
Street to-morrow,— to see the noble ord strutting proudly W*a
with his sequents behind with a smile passing over his coun-
tenance,— something like, as Cnrran g.aid, " a silver plate on a
coffin," while the right honorable member for Cumberland (Sir
James Graham) made one of itH lustiest links,— not held by
.VV*».»
OJI^JX*
\i
836
THE SIXTH HEADER.
. t 'jvT^ t^6 Cockermouth crutch, but si pported bj' his detestation ol
^^ all coalition.
3. Yes, sir, this is the ridiculous combination of supports by
which the right honorable baronet (Sir Robert Peel) is this
night saved. How is he to be saved? By the Tories? 01)
IK) I By the Whigs? Oh no 1 the genuine Whigs have not
gone over yet.
4. Whatever becomes of speculation for places, where no
negotiation for places has as yet been entered int-^ — whatevei
becomes of future perspects, of difficulties not over and sub-
dued, of kindness thrown out and courtesies offered, and pro-
tection held over these unfortunate orphans — the ministers aa
*ve call them — whatever becomes of their party, the true Whig,
the true Reformer, the true friend of liberty will stand firm ;
and I doubt much that the right honorable baronet's protec-
tion, with that of his noble friend, the noble lord, and the
sequents which he may carry with him, will avail those over
whom it is extended :
" Down thy hill, romantic Ashbourne, glides
The Derby Dilly, with its six insideal"
O'CONNBLL.
48. SCENES OF OUR YOUTH.
["I came to the place of my birth, and said, 'The friends of my youth,
where are they ?' an echo answered, ' Where arc they ?' "1
LONG years had elapsed since 1 gazed on the scene,
Which my fancy still robed in its freshness of green—
The spot where, a schoolboy, all thoughtless, I stray'd, ij<^-^
By the side of the stream, in the gloom of the shade.
I thought of the friends who had roam'd with me there,
When the sky was so blue, and the tiowers were so fair-
All scHtter'd ! — all sunder'd by mountain and wave, '
And some in the silent embrace of the grave I
III.
I thought of the green bankci, that circled around,
With wild-flowers, and sweetbrier, and eglantine crown'd;
OBATOBICAL. 887
I thonght of H-3 river, all quiet and bright
As the face of the sky on a blue Bummer night
• 17.
And I thought of the trees, under which we had stray»d
Of the broad leafy bows, with their coolness of shade • '
And I hoped, though disfigured, some token to find '
Of the names and the carvings impress'd on the rind, ^j^
V.
All eager, I hastenM the scene to behold,
Bender'd sacred and dear by the feelings of old •
And I deem'd that, unalter'd, my eye should exp1^.» /-
This refuge, this haunt, this Elysium of yore.
VI.
Twas a dream l-not a token o. trace could I view
Of the names , 1 loved, of the trees that I knew
Like the shBiiov^s of night at the dawning of day
"Like a tale that is told," they had vanished away!
vn.
And methought the lone river, that murmur'd alonir
Was more dull in its motion, more sad in its song
Since the birds that had nestled and warbled above
Had all fled from its banks, at the fall of the grov^ L^^
vni.
I paused ; and the moral came home to my heart •
Behold how of earth all the glories depart I
Our visions are baseless ; our hopes but a gleam j /^-^
Our staff but a reed ; and our life but a dream.
Then, oh, let us look-let our prospects allure- c^...m^
To scenes that can fade not, to realms that endure
lo glories, to blessings, that triumnh suhlimo
O'er the blightin;?5, of change, and the ruins of time.
**^^ BlACKWOOD'8 MiLOAJBIini
15
838
THE SIXTH READER.
49. THE FILLAR TOWERS OF IRELAND.
'T^HE pillar towers of Ireland, how wnndrously they stand
-*- By the lakes and rushing rivers through the valleys of
our land ;
In mystic file, through isle, they lift their hea''>s sublime,
These gray old pillar temples, these conquerors of time.
n.
Beside these gray old pillars, how perishing and weak
The Roman's arch of triumph, and the temple of the Greek
And the gold domes of Byzantium, and the pointed Gothio
spires 1
Al! are gone, otae by one, but the temples of our sires I
m.
The column t^ith'its capital, is level with the dust;
And the proud halls of the mighty and the calm homes of
the just ;
For the proudest works of man, as certainly, but slower.
Pass like the grass at the sharp scythe of the mower !
IT.
But the grass grows again when in majesty and mirth.
On the wing of the springy comes the Goddess of the Earth;
But for man in this world no spring-tide e'er returns
To the labors of his hands or the ashes of his urns I
V.
Two favorites hath Time — the pyramids of Nile,
And tha old mystic temples of our own dear isle ;
Ab the breeze o'er the seas, where the halcyon has its nest,
Thus time o'er Egypt's tombs and the temples of the West I
▼I.
The names of their founders have vanished in the gloom,
Like the dry branch in the fire or the body in the tbUnb;
Bnt to^ay, in the ray, their shadowa still they ca8t^^*^*'t:r
These temples of forgotten gods-these relics of the past I ^iSLu^X
ra.
Around these walls have wandered the Briton and the Dane-
The captives of Armorica, the cavaliers of Spain-
Phoenician and Milesian, and the plundering Norman Peers—
And the swordsmen of brave Brian, and the chiefs of later
years I
vm.
How many different rites have the gray old temples known*!
To the m,nd what dreams are written in these chronicles of
stone I
What terror and what error, what gleams of love and truth
Have flashed from these walls 'since the world was in its
youth 1
DC.
Here blazed the sacred fire, and, when the sun was gone
As a star from afar to the travelL-r it shone • '
And the warm blood of the victim have these gray old
temples drunk,
And the death-song of the Druid and the matin of the Monk.
Here was placed the I^ chalice that held the sacred wine,
And the gold cross from the altar, and the relics from the
shnne.
And the mitre shining brighter with its diamonds than the
East,
^""^ ^Prierr''"^^ *^' ^''''*'^' *'''* *^' '^''^'°'°*' °^ ^'^^
Where blfezed the sacred fire, rung out the vesper bell,-
Where the fugitive found shelter, became the hermit's cell j
840
THB SIXTH BEADEB.
And hope iiung out its symbDl to the innocent and good,
For the Cross o'er the moss of the pointed summit stood .
zn.
There may it stand forever, while this symbol doth impart
To the mind one glorious vision, or one proud throb through
the heart ; <v-,(.r
While the breast needeth rest may the gray old temples last
Bright prophets of the future, as preachers of the past !
D. F. M'Caktht.
80. THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL.
[The annals of political eloquence offer no example of a triumph like thai.
5^^^/,>ji. gained by the elo^iuence of O'Connell, when he wrenched from England tho
flrat Instalment c f long-deferred justice in the Act of Catholic Emancipation.)
T DO not ri'.e to fawn or cringe to tiiis house. I do not rise
-■■ to supplicate you to be merciful towards the nation to
which I belong — towards a nation whic>>, though subjeot to
England, yet is distinct from it. It is a distinct nption : it
has been treated as such by this country, as may be proved
by history, and by seven hundred years of tyranny.
2. I call upon this house, as you value the liberty of Eng-
land, not to a;low the present nefarious bill to pass. In it are
involved the liberties of England, the liberty of the press, and
of every other institution dear to Englishmen.
3. Against the bill I protest in%ie name of this Irish
people, and in the faco of heaven. I treat with scorn the
fU^- - puny and pitiful assertions that grie\ ances are not to be com-
plained of, that our redress is not to be agitated ! for, in such
cases, remonstrances cannot be too strong, agitation cannot
be too violent, to show to the world with what injustice our
fair claims are met, and under what tyranny the people suffer,
4. There are two frightful clauses in this bill. The one
which dot3B away with tiiai by jury, aud which I have
called upon you to baptize: you call it a CQurt-mariid,-'
\
OKATORIOAL.
841
a mere nickname ; I stigmatize it as a rn^Wiomry Inbunal
tlunjr? °''"' ''"' '' '"*' '^ '' '' ''' " vevolutionary
5. It annihilates the trial by jury; it drives the judge from
h,8 bench -the man who. from experience, could wefgh the
mce and dehcate points of a case,_who could discriminate
between the staightforward testimony and the suborned evi-
dence,_who could see, plainly and readily, the justice or
injustice of the accusation. .
^ 6. It turns out this man who is free, unt^^kled, unpreja- "
.:ced._who has no previous opinions to control the clear
exercise of his duty. You do away with that which is more
sacred than the throne itself; that for which your king reigns,
your lords deliberate, your commons assemble
1. If ever I doubted before of the success of our agitation
or repeal, this bill, this iniamous bill, the way in which it has
been received by the house, the manner in which its opponents
have been treated, the personalities to which they have been
subjected thesis, with which one of them has this night Uu^^
been greetea,--a]l these things dissipate my doubts, and tell
me ol Its ccnplete and early triumph.
8. Do you think those yells will* be forgotten ? Do you
suppose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured and
insulted country ; that they will not be whispered in her green
valleys, and heard from her lofty hills?
9. Oh, they will be heard there f Yes ; and they will not be
forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bJund with'ndignat on
they will say, "We are eight millions ; and you treat us thus
as though we were no more to your country than the isle of
Guernsey or of Jersey 1"
10. I have done my duty ; I stand acquitted to my con-
science and my country; I have opposed this mLure
throughout ; and I now protest against it as harsh, oppressive
uncallea for, unjust; as establishing an inf^mou^ l-l^^l
y 1 tahating crime against crirae ; as tyrannous, cruelly and
vindictively tyrannous. ' .y «
O'CSONNBLU
842
THE SIXTH READEB.
61. RELIGIOUS LIBERTY.
CAN any thing be more absurd and untenable than the
argument of the learned gentleman, when you see it
\nj)^^ht stripped of the false coloring he has given to it? First, he
alleges that the Catholics are attached to their religion with
a bigoted zeal. I admit the zeal, but I utterly deny the big
otry.
2. He proceeds to insist that these feelings, on our part,
justify the apprehensions of Protestants. The Catholics, he
says, are alarmed for their Ci arch ; why should not the Prot-
estants be alarmed, also, for theirs? The Catholic desires
safety for his religion ; why should not the Protestant require
security for his? Hence, he concludes that, merely because
the Catholic desires to keep his religion free, the Protestant is
thereby justified ih seeking to enslave it.
8. He says that our anxiety for the preservation of our
Church vindicates those wh / deem the proposed arrangement
necessary for the protection of theirs ; — a mode of reasoning
perfectly true, and perfectly applicable, if we sought any inter-
ference with, or control over, the Protestant Church,— if we
asked or required that a single Catholic should be consulted
upon the management of the Protestant Church, or of its
revenues or privileges.
4. But the fact does not bear him out ; for we do not seek
nor desire, nor would we accept of, any kind of interference
with the Protestar *■ Church. We disclaim and disavow any
kind of cout A over it. We ask not, nor would we allow, any
Catholic authority over the mode of appointment of their
clergy. Nay, we are quite content to be excluded forever
from even advising his majesty with respect to any matter
relating to or concerning the Protestant Church,— its rights,
itb properties, or its privileges.
5. I will, for my own part, go much further ; and I do de-
Blare, most solemnly, that I would feel and express equal, ii
not stronger repugnance, to the interference of a Catholic with
OBATOBICAL.
843
the Protestant Church, than that I have expressed and do feel
to any Protestant interference with ours.
6. In opposing their interference with us, I content myself
with the mere war of words. But, if the case were reversed,
-if the Catholic sought this control over the religion of the
Protestant,-the Protestant should command my heart my
tongue, my arm, in opposition to so unjust and insultiiff a
measure. *
7. So help me God ! I would, in that case, not only feel for
the Protestant, and speak for him. but I would fight for him
and cheerfully sacrifice my life in defence of the great prial
ciple for which I have ever contended-the principle of uni
Tergal and complete religious liberty ! O'Cohhslu
Bnt,^<^
. 63. THE IRISH SOLDIER,
IJOHN PHttPOT CXTBBAN, bom In Ireland i7Kn * !»»,«„ . . i
wilh on energy that .hoiUd be Imitated by all who ..* mT ^
J>^ be employed eve,, mean, .„ c^rJ^'Z Il^^ZIZZ::^
npHE present is the most awful and importam crisis that Ire-
land ever saw, considering the actual state of the nation
of he empire and of the war iu which we are engaged. aJ
iMo them; they are lost in the events: if they had been a.
™tr;thaTth"° "T '''"^'''"' ■—"-i'tt^bL:
«I'JjT,t'i^' f /"™f* '"'™ PO""^ i-to the Held, and sur.
rounded the devoted region of France on every side, but, fa,
844
THE SIXTH READKB.
from achievii»g their purpose, they have only formed an iron
^ hoop about her, which, instead of quelling the fury of her dis-
5vjL». Bensions, has compressed their spring into an irresistible
energy, and forced them into coaction.
3. During its progress we saw the miserable objects for
whom it was undertaken consumed in nameless thousands in
the different quarters of Eurcpe, by want, and misery, and
despair ; or expiring on the scaffold, or perishing la the field.
4. We have seen the honest body of the British mauufao-
turer tumbled into the common grave with the venal carcass
!iMKo.v»A^- of the Prussian hireling ; we .have seen the generous Briton
submit to the alliance of servitude and venalty, and submit to
It in vain. The sad vicissitudes of each successive campaign
have been marked by the defeat of our armies and triumphs
of our enemies, and the perfidy of our allies.
6. What was th^ situation of the contending parties at the
beginning of the contest ? England, with Spain, with Austria,
with Prussia, with Holland, with Ireland on her side ; while'
France had to count the revolt of Toulon, the insurrection of
La Vendee, the rebellion of Lyons, and her whole eastern ter-
ritory in the hands of her enemies.
^^jf-»>^ 6. How direful the present reverse I I^ngland exhausted,
Holland surrendered, Austria wavering, Prussia fled, and
Spain fainting in the contest ; while France, triumphant and
successful, waves a military and triumphant sceptre over an
extent of territory that stretches from the ocean and the
Rhine to the Pyrenees and the ocean.
1. I will not dwell upon this miserable picture ; I will only
observe that, during this long tsuocession of disaster and de-
feat, Ireland alone, of all the allies Great Britain has, neither
traflScked, nor deceived, nor deserted,
8. The present distresses of her people attest her liberality
of her treasure, while the bones of her enemies and of her
children, bleaching upon all the plains of Europe, attest the
brilban
-"-y Oi uer courage and the steadfastness of Ler faith.
Cuasux.
ORATORICAL.
845
53. LAWS FOR IRELAND.
[The boat efforts of EngUah epcakera Mhlch have been preserved, re«l«»ilw^l
tamely compared with Grattan's, aboundln« as the latter do with fuhnmat T^*^'
ing bursta of the most brilliant elo.,ucnoe. Hla oration on the, declaration U
Ir^h Ry,ht» conveys the best Idea of his genius as an orator. The foUowins 1«
one of the most eloquent perorations thrvt can bo found In any naUon or age :
k ND as any thing less than liberty i» inadequate to Trefund,
^^ 80 is it dangerous to Great Britain. We are too near tha
BntiHh nation, we are too conversant with her histcry, we aro
too much fired by her example, to be any thing less than her
equal ; any thing loss, we should be her bitterest enemies—
an enemy to that power which smo^ , with her mace, and to
that constitution from whose blessing we were excluded ; to
be ground as we have been by the British nation, Ibound by
her parliament, plundered by her crown, threatened by her
enemies, insulted with her protection, while we%eturned thanks
for her condescension, is a system of meanness and misery
which has expired in our determination, as I hope it has in her
magnanimity.
2. Do not tolerate that power which blasted you for a cenf T*^
tury, that power which sh^^ttered your loom, banished your
manufactures, dishonored your peerage, and stopped the
growth of your people ; do not, I say, be bribed by an export
of woollen, or an import of sugar, and permit that power
which has ihus withered the land to remain in your country
and have existence in your pusillanimity.
3. Do not suffer the arrogance of England to imagine a sur-
v)vmg^pe in the fears of Ireland ; do not send the people to
their own resolves for liberty, passing by the tribunals of ins-
tice and the high court of parliament ; neither imagine thai
by any formation of apology, you can palliate puch a comrais'
Bion to your hearts, still less to your children, who will stingy
you with their curses in your grave for having interposed be- ^
tweon them and their Maker, robbing them of an immense o.>
ca»iun, and lo.mg an opportunity which you did not create.
and can never restore
i6*
,<(. 'I
XtfM-
\***f<^
846
TIIK SIXTH READER.
l|ct»/u>», *• Hereafter, when these things shall be history — your af^e
' of thraldom and pov«'rty, your sudden resurrection, coninicr.
oial redress, and miraculous armament — shall the historian stop
at liberty, and observe, that here the principal men among uh
fell into mimic trances of gratitude — they were awed by a
weak ministry, and bribed by an empty treasury; and when
liberty was wit!. in their grasp, and the temple opened her
folding-doors, and the arms of the people clanged, and tho
zeal of the nation urged and encouraged them on, that they
fell down, and were prostituted at tho threshold. M»A,
6. I might, as a constituent, come to your bar and d(.'mand
my liberty. I do call upon you, by the laws of the land and
their violation, by the instruction of eightecf counties, by the
arms, inspiration, and providence of the present moment, tell
us the rule by which we shall go — assert the law of Ireland-
declare the libirty'of the land.
6. I will not be answered by a public lie in the shape of an
amendment ; neither, speaking for tho subjects' freedom, am I
to hear of faction. I wish for nothing but to breathe, in thJB
our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, the air of
liberty. I have no ambition, unless it be the ambition to
break your chain, and contemplate your glory.
1. I never will be satisfied so long as the meanest cottager
in Ireland has a link of the British chain clanking to his rags ;
he may be naked, he shall not be in iron ; and I do see the
time is at hand, the spirit has gone forth, the declaration is
planted ; and though great men should apostatize, yet the
cause will live ; and though the public speaker shouU die, yet
the imnwrtal fire shall outlast the organ which conveyed it,
and the breath of liberty, like the word of the holy man, will
not die with the prophet, but survive him.
8. I shall move you, " That the King's most excellent Ma-
jesty, and the Lords and Commons of Ireland, are the onlj
power competent to make laws to bind Ireland." Obattah.
OKATORICAU
847
54. NATIONAL INDEPENDENCE.
I Jambs Otis, born In MoMachuaetta, 1726- dlod ITM m k
£NGLAND may as well dam up the waters of tho Nile wifl, , ' J
1^ bnlrushe« as to fetter the step of Freedom, more proud "^'^'
and firm in tins youthful land, than where she treads the
sequestered glens of Scotland, or crouches herself amo,.. the ^^:^
oiagn.ficent mountains of Switzerland. Arbitrary principle ^
hke those aga,nst which we no. .onte ., have cost'one king
of England hm hfe-another h s crown- and thoy may yet
cost a third his most flourishing ^o:.;m«g. ' ^ ^ ^^"^
2^ We are two millions-one-fi . i^^i.ting men. We are
bold and vigorous, and we call no man master. To the nation
rem whom we are proud to derive our origin, we were ever,
nd we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance ; bu c^
it must not, and it never can be extorted
8. Some have sneeringly asked, "Are the Americans too W^
poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper ?" No 1 Amer-
.ca, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take
ItT r^'lV: ''^'' '' ''''' a thousand ; and what
mus^t be the wealth that avarice, aided by power, cannot ex-
4. True, the spectre is now small ; but the shadow he casts
before him is huge enough to darken all this fair lanrl. Others
m sentimental style, talk of the immense debt of gratitude
winch we owe to England. And what is the amount of this
deb ? Why, truly, ,t is the same th.t the young lion owes
to theiam_which has brought it forth on the solitude of the
mountain, or left it amid the winds and storms of the desert
5 We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of
freedom m our teeth, because the faggot and torch were be-
bind us. We have waked t^is new world from its savage
«et.argy ; forests have been prostrated in our path ; town«
and o.ties have grown up suddenly as the flowers of the
?-
348
THE SIXTH READER.
tropics ; and the fires in our autumnal woods are scarcely
more rapid than the increase of our wealth and population
6. And do we owe all this to the kind succor of the mother-
country ? No f we owe it to the tyranny that drove us fron.
her-to the pelting storms which invigorated our helpless
mfancy. But perhaps others will say, " We ask no money
from your gratitude-we only demand that you should pay
your own expenses/^
7 And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity? Why
the king (and. with all due reverence to his sacred majesty'
he underetands the real wants of his distant subjects as little
as he does the language of the Ohoctaws). Who is to iud^c
concerning the frequency of these demands? The ministry
Who IS to judge whether the money is properly expended?
The cabinet behind the throne. In every instance, those
who take are to judge for those who pay.
8. If this system is suffered to go into operation, wo shall
have reason to esteem it a great privilege that rain and de^
do not depend upon parliament; otherwise they would soon
be taxed and dried. But thanks to God, there is freedom
enough left upon earth to resist such monstrous injustice.
9. The flame of liberty is extinguished in Greece and Rome
but the light of its glowing embers is still bright and strong
on the shores of America. Actuated by its sacred influence
we will resist unto death. But we will not countenance'
anarchy and misrule.
10. The wrongs that a desperate community have heaped
upon their enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired,
btill, It may be well for some proud men to remember, that a
fare 18 lighted in these colonies, which one breath of their king
may kindle into such fury that the blood of all England can
not extinguisL it
Om.
OBATOBICAL.
849
65. THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION
rAmong the men whose cjaracter and genius had an acknowledged Inflnenci
on the events immediately preceding the Revolution, was JosSh Smor
His name is associated with those of Otis, Adams, and other ^1^5
pathos of his eloquence, the boldness of his invectives, and the i^p;e8ive
vehemence with which he arraigned the measures of fh« L« >. . f!
inflamed the zeal and animated th^^r^entm^Zf 111^1^;^ ^^
WHEN we speak of the glory of our fathers, we mean not
bat vulgar renown to be attained by physical strength,
no ye that higher fame to be acquired by intellectual power
Both often exist without lofty thought, or pure inter-^ or sen-
erous purpose The glory which we celebrate was strictly of
a moral and religious character ; righteous as to its ends : Lt
as to its means. ' ''
2. The American Revolution had its origin neither in am-
bition, nor avarice, nor envy, nor in any gross passion; but
m the nature and relation of things, and in the thence result-
mg necessity of separation from the parent State. Its pro-
grass was limited by that necessity.
a During the struggle our fathers displayed great strength
and great moderation of purpose. In difficult times, they con-
duced with wisdom; in doubtful times, with firmness; in
perilous, with courage; under oppressive trials, erect; amid
great temptations, unseduced ; in the dark hour of danger
fearless ; in the bright hour of prosperity, faithful '
4. It was not the instant feeling and pressure of the arm of
despotism that roused them to resist, but the principle on
which that arm was extended. They could have paid the
^amptax, and the fea-^, and othe. impositions of the British
Government, had they been increased a thousand-fold Bu
mment acknowledged the right; and they spurned the con-
sequences of that acknowledgment.
..t J" T^ ""'" "'"'^ '^^*' '^''^y ^°"'^ ^^""^ I'ved, and happily,
•nd bought, and sold, and got gain, and been at ease Bui
850
THE SIXTH EEADER.
they would have held those blessings on the tenure of de
pendence on a foreign and distant power; at the mercy of a
king, or his minions ; or of councils in which they had n
voice and where their interests could not be represented a L
were httle likely to be heard. They saw that L^lt'^^
n such case would be precarious, their possessions uncert n'
tneir ease inglorious.
6 But above all they realized that those burdens, though
hght to them, would to the coming age, to us, their p^sterif
be heavy, and probably insupportable. Reasoning on thj
inevitable increase of interested imposition, upon those wh
are without power and have none to help, they foresaw that
Booner or later, desperate struggles must come '
Ji '^^^ ^''^r'^ ^ ™''* *'^' *"^' '" *^^''- <^ fi^. and to
make he sacrifices in their ovm persons. They were willi„:
themselves to eud.re the toil, an. to incur the hazard, that Z
and our descendants, their posterity, might reap the harvest
and enjoy the increase.
8. Generous men ! Exalted patriots 1 Immortal statesmen I
For this deep moral and social affection, for this elevated self-
devotion, this noble purpose, this bold daring, the multiplying
myriads of your posterity, as they thicken along the Atlantic
coast, from the St. Croix to the Mississippi; as%heys;e:
backwards to the lakes, and from the lakes to the mounL;
and from the mountains to the western waters, shall, on this
day (the 4th of July), annually, in all future time, as we at Z
hour, come up to the temple of the Most High, with son ^ and
anthem, and thanksgiving, and choral symphony, and uallelu
jah, to repeat your names ; to look steadfastly on the bnVht
uess of your glory ; to trace its spreading rays to the poL
from which ^hey emanate ; aud to seek, in your character and
conduct, a practical illustration of public duty, in every occur.
ring social exigence.
JOBIAH QDnrOT
ORATORICAL.
66. THE AGE OP WASHINGTON.
351
pecuHar degree to the exercise of being declaimed."] ^^'^
Q.EEAT generals have arisen in all ages of the world, a..d
y perhap^, u^ost in those of despotism and darkness. In
t,mes of violence and convulsion, they rise, by the force of the
whirlwind, high enough to ride in it, and direct the storm
2. Like meteors, they glare on the black clouds with a
splendor which, while it dazzles and terrifies, makes nothing
visible but the darkness. The fame of heroes is, indeed
growmg ^„, they multiply in every long war, they stand'
m history, and thicken in their ranks, almost as undistin-
guished as their own soldiers.
3. But such a chief magistrate as Washington appears like
the pole-star m a clear sky, to direct the skillful statesman
His presidency will form an epoch, and be distinguished as
the age of Washington.
4. Like the milky way, it whitens along its allotted portion
of the hemisphere. The latest generations of men will sur-
vey, through the telescope of history, the space where so many
virtues blend their rays, and delight to separate them into
groups and distinct virtues.
5. As the best illustration of them, the living monument, to
which the first of patriots would have chosen to consign his
fame, it is my earnest prayer to Heaven, that our country
may subsist even to that late day, in the plenitude of it's
liberty and happiness, and mingle its mild glory with Wash
ington's.
FiSHBB AMEa
57. UNION AND LIBERTY.
PLAG of the berates who left us their glory
Borne through our battle-field's thunder and flame
Blazoned in sone- and illnrninpH ,-,. «4.„^.. *
Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame I
352
THE SIXTH BBADBB.
^^JVl>t^..
Up with our banner bright,
Sprinkled with starry light,
Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore;
While through the sounding sky,
Loud rings the nation's cry, —
Union and Liberty I— one evermore 1
n.
Light of our firmament, guide of our nation,
Pride of her children, and honored afar.
Let the wide beams of thy full constellation
Scatter each cloud that would darken a star
HL
Empire unsceptr^d I what foe shall assail thee,
Bearing the standard of Liberty's van? "-^'■^
TLink not the God of thy fathers shall fail thee,
Striving with men for the birthright of man I
IV.
•^aC
Yet, if by madness and treachery blighted, vV_
Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw
Then, with the arms of thy millions united, '
Smite the bold traitors to Freedom and Law I
Lord of the universe 1 shield us and guide us,
Trusting Thee always, through shadow and' sun I
Thou hast united us, who shall divide us?
Keep us, oh keep us, the Many in One I
Up with our banner bright,
Sprinkled with starry light,
Spread its fair emblems from mountain to she \ >
While through the sounding sky,
Loud rings the nation's cry,
Union and Liberty 1— one evermore I ^. yff^ lissuixk.
OBATOBICAL.
853
68. THE FEDERAL CONSTITUTION, 1787.
[The foU<mlnff is strongly marked by the leading traits of Franklin'm
.harocter.-his hberality, practical wisdom, and spirit of compromut^
cm, I agree to this Constitution, with all its faults-if they
^ are sucn-because I think a general government neces
Bary foi us. and there is no form of government but what may
be a blessing to the people, if well administered; and I believe^
, further, that this is likely to be well administered for a course
of years and can only end in despotism, as other forms have
done before ,t, when the people shall become so corrupted as
to need despotic government, being incapable of any other
2. I doubt, too, whether any other convention ve can obtaio
may be able to make a better Constitution, .^r, when yoi.
assemble a number of men, to have the advantage of theiV
jomt wisdom, you inevitably assemble with those men all thei*
prejr-^jces, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local
interests, and their selfish views. From such an assembly
can a perfect production be expected ?
3. It, therefore, astonishes me, sir, to find this system ap.
preaching so near to perfection as it does; and I think it will
astonish our enemies, who are waiting with confidence to hear
t at our counsels are confouno. , like those of the builders
of Babel, and that our States are on the point of separation
thmats '"''*^^''^'"^*^'^/"^ *^« P^^P°«^ ^^ cutting one another's
4. Thus I consent, sir, to this Constitution, because I ex-
peci no better, and because I am not sure that this is not the
best The opinions I have ^ad of its errors I sacrifice to the
public good I have never whispered a syllable f them
BtalTdi'e. ''''' "'"' *''^ "''' """' ^"^ ^^'^ they
5. If every one of us, in returning to his constituents, were
to report the objections he has had to it, and ende^;^. ...
&am partisans in support of them, we might prevent its beino:'
generally received, and thereby lose all the salutary effects
*
U»t
^'Si
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
and great advantages resulting naturally in our favor aro ,n»
foreign nations, as well as among ourselves, from our re;ii or
apparent uuanim.vy.
6. Much of the strength and efficacy of lay irovernmput
in procuring and securing happinest: to the people, depends
on opinion-on the general opinion of the guo-iness of that
government, as well m of the v -gdom and integrity of its
governors.
T. I hope, therefore, that, for our o-^n sates, as a part .1
the people, nnd for the aake of our postfrity, w.- shtUl acS
heartily and unanimously in recommencHn,v this C .iistitution
W'l- rver our influence may extend, and £ura our future
ihoUi-htH rnd endesivors to the means of having it well ad-
Fbaitkuk.
515. DISSOLUTION OP THE NATIONAL (X)MPACT.
[Goir anNEtTB Mobhis, bora in New York, 1753; dlevl, 1818. He was a
Delegate to the Continental Congress from New York, and subsequently rep-
riisented that State in the Senate of the United States, before which body h«
delivered a succession of brilliant speeches on the vital necessity of preserving
the Union. Of one of these speeches we give the following extract :]
IX^HAT will be the situation of these States, organized as
» " they now are, if, by the dissolution of our national com.
pact, they be left to themselves ? What is the probable re-
suit ? We shall either be the victims of foreign intrigue, and,
l^^j^^^lit into factions, fall under the domination of a foreign
\ power, or else, after the misery and torment of a civil war
become the subjects of an usurping military desjiot.
2. What but this compact, what but this specific part of it
can save us from ruin ? The judicial power, that fortress
the Constitution, is now to be overturned. With honest Ajax,
I would not only throw a shield before it,- -1 would build
around it a wall of brass,
3. But I am too weak to defend the rait
best of assaj'.'-js. I must call
lense, theii
suffer the r
this law be
it been pa
roused youi
4. Have,
offence I I
passions to
of opinion <
libation for
not suffer th
6. Indeed,
whether one
heal no wouj
towns. Do I
frail beings
changeable i
, will change i
6. Do not,
frail, commit
nation, to tli
waves. Thn
ocean. Do r
port. Indeed
1. Cast no
Been its prog
was obtained
of the world ;
ter, never, — n
perhaps, arriv
Btand on the
Bake, pause I
my
t- Ao'ainst the
ice their good
OBATORIOAL.
855
KMse their patriotism, and their virtue. D„ not o-entlomon
U..S Jaw be indeed bad, let us join to remedy the defeets. Ha"
.t been passed ,„ a manner whieh wounded your pride o
roused your resentment ? ^ '
4. Have I conjure yo„, the magnanimity to pardon thai
offence . I entreat, I implore you, to saerfflce those an 'y
p.ss.ons to the .nterests of our country. P„„r out this prMe
f op,n.on „n the altar of patriotism. Let it be an expiating
hbafon for the weal of America. Do not, for God's sake d!
.0 suffer that pride to plunge us all into ie abyss of rl'.
6 Indeed, indeed, it will be but of little, very little" vail
whether one opinion or the other be right or w^ng it w 11
eal no wounds, it will pay no debts, it will rebuild no aljed
owns Do nof rely on that popular will whieh has brougM ^
frad beings into political ei^istence. That opinion is but a
::uC:u'"'y ^'^it^''^-^^- ^"^'-Z-i
wiu cnange it. You will be deceived.
6 Do not I beseech you, in a reliance on a foundation so
ral, commit the dignity, the harmony, the ezistenee of our
«,o„, to the wild windl Trust not your treasure to the
«a„. Do not believe that its billows will waft you into
port. Indeed, indeed, you will be deceived I
I Cast not away this only anchor of our safety. I have
.een its progress. I know the difficulties through which it
.a obtained : I stand in the presence of Almighfy God and
of the world ; and I declare to you, that, if you lose this cha.
tcr, never,-n„, never, will y„„ get another I We are now
perhaps, arrived at the parting point. Here, even here, we
GOUVBBNBUB MORBIg.
12*
356
THE SIXTH HEADER.
^•iim.
60. WASHINGTON'S SWORD AND FRANKLIN'S STAFF.
[From an address In the United States House of Representatives, on th.
reception of these memorials by Congress.] cuwuves, on th«
rpHE sword of Washington ! The staff of Franklin I Oh
■*• sir, what associations are linked in adamant with these
names I Washington, whose sword was never drawn but in
the cause of his country, and never sheathed when wielded in
h.8 country's cause I Franklin, the philosopher of the thunder-
Dolt, the printing-press, and the ploughshare I
2. What names are these in the scanty catalogue of the
benefactors of human kind I Washington and Frankli.)
What other two men, whose lives belong to the eighteenth
century of Christendom, have left a deeper impression
IfteTttme' "^''" *^' '^' '"' ""^'"^ ^^'^ "'^'^' *"^ "P°" ^"
3 Washington, the warrior and the legislator! In war con-
tending, by the wager of battle, for the independence of his
country, and for the freedom of the human race.-ever man!
festmg, amidst its horrors, by precept and by example. Lis
reverence for the laws of peace, and for the tenderest sympa
thies of humanity ; in peace, soothing the ferocious spirit of
discord, among his own countrymen, into harmony and union
and giving to that very sword, now presented to his country'
a charm more potent than that attributed, in ancient times, tJ
the lyre of Orpheus.
4 Franklin 1 The mechanic of his own fortune; teaching in
early youth, under the shackles of indigence, the way to
wealth, and, in the shade of obscurity, the path to greatnoM;
m the maturity of manhood, disarming the thunder of its te^
rors, the lightning of its fatal blast; and wresting from the
tyrant's hand the still more afflictive sceptre of oppression;
while descending into the vale of years, traversing the Atlantic
Ocean, ^braving, in the dead of winter, the battle and the
bveesc, ^ariDij ^a Ms hand the charter of independence, which
ORATORICAL
BRl
branch of peace. Z ^^::Z^/' ^-^^^' ^^^ oliv. ^ '
amutet of protection and safety to tht T'''' ""^ the^^jc^
pathless ocean, from the ineJo K "'° '^ P'"^^' ^'^ *be ^
rapacity of war '"exorable cruelty and mercik-sa
6. And, finally, in the last stage of life w,>h f
Winters upon his hear! „r.^ ^u ' ^'*" lourscore
dLeaae, rc.tur„i„; to his n tt . f°" °' '" '-'-'"»
«^u«n, ., ,„■, oo„„.ei;irAh:;rc'';f w \™°-
to, and recording his name, „„der the Lanoln ^.^ ^°*'
prayer, inroked by him to God to Tl, !n "^ ''^™"'
..tbority of which .e llll^^^T'T" "°'"*'«'
lives of the North Amerir^n T '.""''"''''-''• "» 'te represeuta-
«.d the good founders of our Ireat con H "T^ t """"'•
tae sacred symbols of our golde" '' '''''"'"'"-
6. May they be deposited among the archive, v
ernmeutl And may everv i™ • "T'™ »f oar gov
L 1 , , . " ^^®ry American who shall k« ^.
behold them, ejaculate a mingled offerinrnf ""'
Supreme Ruler of the universe bv whn ? ^ ^'^''' *° *^*'
Pnion has been hitherto ^e've^ Tln^ir,:: ™""'" "^^
and revolutions of this turbulen w^ d fnd^ ^"^T""'^
continuance of these blessings bv Tp H, ^^^^^^^^^^^ ^h^
'dence. to our beloved country from at'T"'"" "'"*"""
•hall be no more 1 ^^ *^ ^^"' *'" t^^ne
J. Q. Adam BL
61. LIBERTY OR DEATH.
[Thlfl speech was deUvered by PATRirir ttb.»„^ k *
rention of Delegate, 1775. w/en he™ hl^Lt at Z T "^'^^"'^ ^° •
ofapplause was heard. Th e effect was too deeo A fT 1 "'"' °° °^'"™°'
«reral memoers started fr .n heirTeT Z '^"^':!' *^'^°^°°f ^^nomen^
quiver on everv lip and -• "^^'J^^- The ciy,-"To arms !" seemed fit
.upported Mr. ienr^ with s,)irit and 17'^ *'^^ ^''^^'^ ^- ^°° ^''^se and"
B68
THB SIXTH READER.
on high. The mtv.rrKJ.;m voice still .onndcd 1„ their oars. The. hr««.
speech. Tluu flo(.J« '.or. on Are for action. » The speeches of Pat ri.li
language .nd by a convenient structure of the sentences which make hi
of grea. service for a pupil in declaiming."] ^° ^^'"^
JTJK. PRESIDENT, it is natural for man to indulge in the
^^A ,„„sxon8 of hope, v ^ ^^,^ ^^^ ^„ ^,,^^ our eyes agains
a painful truth, and listen to the .ong of that siren till she
transforms us into beasts. Is it the part of wise men on-
gaged in the great and arduous struggle for liberty ? Are we
disposed to be of the number of tl^^se, who, having eyes Hee
act, and having ears hear not, the things which so nearly 'co,.
cern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever an
guish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole
truth, and to provide for it.
2 1 have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided ; and
that ,» the lamp of exp, ienc. I know of no way . i Judging
of the future, but by the past. And, jud. ing by the past I
wish to know, what there has been in the conduct of the Brt
i8h ministry, for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with
which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and
the house ?
8. Is it that insidious smile, with which our netition Las
been lately received ? Trust t not, sir ; it will prove a snare
to your feet, ^ufft aot yoi. c-lves to be betrayed with a kis^
Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition
comports with those warlike preparatior,. which cover our
waters and dar;cen our land.
4. Are fleets and armies necessary to a wori of love aad
reconciliation? Have we sho^v . ourselves so unwilling to i)e
reconciled, that force mi, >e c' ied iu to win hack our love?
Let us not deceive ourse ,, These are r,e imphmentg
of war and subjugation- .ue last arguments to which Kings
resort. I ask, gentlemen, sir, what means this .partial array,
if Its purpose be not to force us to submission ? Caii gentle-
mek ashign any other motive for it ?
Ott^/OBICAL.
6, Has Great Biitaii
859
^orld, to call for all 2P' "'''^'7"*^^"^ '" ^^-^ T^artor of the
meant for no other Th.v 1 ^ ""'""' '^' "^ ' ^'^^^ <^^« be
us those chaint which t^BT^i^^^^ "^"' *° '^'"^ ^^ "-^ upon
forging. ^'^' ^"^'"^ "^'">«t^^« b^ve been so long
6. And what have we to oppose them ? Sh„ii *
ment? Sir. we have been tryL that for th. Z\' "'^'"
Have we any thin^r n^-w to off i '*'* ten years.
wehaveholdthesl;:;^l:\^^^^^^
ble ; but it has been tu in vain fl "'^"'^ '' '« ^^f"**
and humble supplication? What teril! h n''"'' '" '"'''^"'^
We not been already elu^d ^t .I ^ Tb '"' r'"'^'
Bir, deceive ourselves longer. ' ^^^^^"^^^ ^""'
7. Sir, we have done everv thinw thof «^, u u ^
tb. Storm which is uow com^„r<f„ W°7 " '^°"''' *" ""'"
our,. ., bd;,ro the ^0^ a Jt ' T" .^""^ '"•''^'™"«'
tioa to arrest the tyranZj his J .7" -^ "' """^'"'■
foasharbec Warded™ T '".''""'' ' ™^ ^'W"-
«te™pt, rr„. the r:'!; hr^T ""^ '? ^^■""^''' "■•"■
Patrick Hbkbt.
■'1
08. LIBEKTT OE nEATH_(Oo™n,uKD).
JIHEY tell US, sir, that we are weak-unable to copc.ith so
A f™,dable an adversa,y. Bnt wi.en .hall ^' trontr^
Z I e t^; t "" "'''• "' *<* "«' y-'-? Will it be wte'
l"liou and inllZ ? Sl,!ir '"'■*"""'' '"'"«"' ''J' "««>•
resistance I ,*" ""«""•* "" '°™'» -' ««=«"<al
resistance bj ly„,g supinely on our bank., .n-f hr- -•■•- ,h
pfV^
:Lji
860
THJt SIXTH READER.
8. Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of tliose
. means which the God of nature hath placed in our power
Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty
and in such i country as that which we possess, are invincible
by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides
sir, we shall not fight alone. There is a just God who pro'
sides orer the destinies of nations, and who will raiee ua
friends to fight our battles for us.
3. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone,— it is to the
active, the vigilant, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no eleo
tion 1 If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late
to retire from the contest There is no retreat— but in sub-
mission and slavery 1 Our chains are forged. Their clanking
may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable-
and let it come I I repeat it, sir, let it come I
4. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen
may cry peace, peace— but there is no peace I The war ia
actually begun I The next gale that sweeps from the north
will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms I
6. Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand we
here idle ? What is it that gentlemen wish ? What would
they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be pur-
chased at the price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it, Heaven I
I know not what course others may take, but as for me— give
me liberty, or give me death 1 p^^^^ ^^^
63. RETURN OF BRITISH FUGITIVES, 1783.
1 VENTURE to prophesy, there are those now living who
-■- will see this favored land amongst the most ' powerful on
earth,— able, sir, to take care of herself, without resorting to
that policy which is always so dangerous, though sometimea
unavoidable, of calling in foreign aid.
2. Yes, sir, they will see her great in arts and in arms,— her
golden harvests waving over fields of immeasurable e'xtenl,
ORATORICAL.
361
U, rule the wuvel """" "''" »"'' P^°'"":>' «fct
8. Bui, sir, jrou must have mra ,.„.,
wWiout tl,™. Those heavy IreTZ T,°"°' ''°' °'''°»
»hich your lands a,,, groalllM " "'"''° ""''"'■•• ""''-''
™t riches which cover IZ' 7 "'""""' '"'''^- '^''"'^
which lie hid in its birol ! . "'"" '""■ °' """ »» "'<»« •
lien, you „,„st have comrerl 1." . " " '"" ■"""'"•
>» take off your pr!d„Zn 7! r"* '=°"'°'<'"=i»' capital,
tie™ abroad You l"at „ T " ""= '"'^' ""^-^'^ f"
1.e.e you must hlve^a ,d „7l . ' "''■ " '!!' """' °' °«=" ' »■«'
. ^. Do you as. ho^ ;" I^ZZt^^'o ""' '"' "'''^-
«ir, and thev will come in I t. °P'" y<""' ^"ors,
» full to ov;r(l„wir Th t n Tr'"''"" "'■ "'" O'" Wo'W
oppressions of the ^ove'r'^:" X" ^hfclT ' T "^'"^ ^"^^
tbey are already standinrr nn . • * *"^^ ^^^®- Sir,
-d looiin, to your" :r:i r:;iS a"d'; ""'™ """^«»'
6- They see here a land bTesld [ ""«"« «'y"'-
advantage, which are not e ^ fe^ Vl Z' T" ^°""""'
country upon earth :_» land on „h 1 '^ "'^ ""■^ °"""'
'">. emptied the horn oralltutl-fTand" "'^'''T
peace hath now stretched forth her whit! °'""' """'''
«te.. and plenty lie down at ever; dlr ^"^'' ""'' "'''"'
They !: rr:r r K' Ta^ rr ^^ '^» -" •'■•'
that liberty who. they ^llZCtVl^Z '^fr
e".t,ng only i„ the fancies of p„ej Thev It ^'^'''''•
dmnity,~her altars rising. „„ . \ "^ '^^ ■""■« a real
'estates, her glor s clnL I"!'""'' .f'"°«''°°' ""^o
"id the whole re=-il. "1^ . '' ""•'" ""'"'^^ of tongues,
K If ')
■;:<^
J,er I ^'^^ ^^6 whole region
unaer i,er blessed influencer
«• Sir, let but^his/u :e^eZlT;^"'r"'"^'^^^•
f<'rth her fair hand towards ™-'\^''f'''' Liberty, stretch
t^^'^'ds the people of the Old World,-teIl
16
363
THE SIXTH READEB.
them to come, and bid them welcome, — and you will see theni
pouring in from the North, from the South, from the East, and
from the West. Tour wilderness will be cleared and settled,
your deserts will smile, your ranks will be filled, and you will
noon be in a condition to defy the powers of any adversary.
9. But gentlemen object to any accession from Great Brit
ain, and particularly to the return of the British refugees
, Sir, I feel no objection to the return of those deluded people.
They have, to be sure, mistaken their own interests most wo
fully ; and most wofully have they suffered the punishment
due to their offences.
10. But the relations which we bear to them, and to their
native country, are now changed. Their king hath acknowl-
edged our independence ; the quarrel is over, peace hath re-
turned, and found us a free people. Let us have the magnan-
imity, sir, to lay aside our antipathies and prejudices, and
consider the subject in a political light.
11. Those are an enterprising, moneyed people. They will
be serviceable in taking off the surplus produce of our lands,
and supplying us with necessaries, during the infant state of
our manufactures. Even if they be inimical to us in point of
feeling and principle, I can see no objection, in a political
riew, in making them tributary to our advantage. And, as I
have no prejudices to prevent my making this use of thera,
80, sir, I have no fear of any mischief that they can do us.
Afraid of them! — What, sir, shall we, who have laid the proud
British lion at our feet, now be afraid of hia whelps f If-^
Patbios HxmiT.
64. LAFAYETTE.
[John QtroOT Asamb was not merely a statesman, but, as Professor of
Oratory, his lectures are able productions, and evince the vigor of a mind
thoroushly conversant with the subject it investigates. The following is an
extract from Mr. Adams's finished oration on the life and character ol
Laittf etle, delivered li^«re Congress in 1834 :]
ORATORICAL.
368
pRONOUNCE him one of the first men of his age, and you
X have yet not done him justice. Try him by that test to
which he sought in vain to stimulate the vulgar and selfish
spirit of Napoleon ; class him among the men who, to com-
pare and seat themselves, must take in the con)pas8 of all
igea ; turn back your eyes upon the records of time ; summon,
IVom the creation of the world to this day, the mighty dead of
every age and every clime,— and where, among the race of
merely mortal men, shall one be found who, as the benefactor
of his kind, shall claim to take precedence of Lafayette ?
2. There have doubtless been in all ages men whose dis-
coveries or inventions in the world of matter, or of mind, have
opened new avenues to the dominion of man over the mate-
rial creation ; have increased his means or his faculties of en-
joyment ; have raised him in nearer approximation to that
higher and happier condition, the object of his hopes and aspi.
rations in his present state of existence,
3. Lafayette discovered no new principle of politics or of
morals. He invented nothing in science. He disclosed no
new phenomenon in the laws of nature. Born and educated
in the highest order of feudal nobility, under the most abso
lute monarchy of Europe ; in possession of an affluent fortune,
and master of himself and of all his capabilities, at tue mJ
meat of attaining manhood the principle of republican justice
aiJ of social equality took possession of his heart and mind,
as if by inspiration from above.
4. He devoted himself, his lifp, his fortune, his hereditary
honors, his towering ambition, his splendid hopes, all to the
cause of Liberty. He came to another hemisphere, to defend
ter. He became one of the most effective champions of our
independence ; but, that once achieved, he returned to his own
country, and thenceforward took uo part in the controversies
'I'hicb have diviJed us.
5. In the events of our Revolution, and in the forms of pol-
icy which we have adopted for the establishment and perpet-
uation of our freedom, Lafayette found the most perfect form
S61
THE SIXTH READER.
of government. He wished to add nothing to it. He would
gladly have abstracted nothing from it. Instead of the imig.
inary Republic of Plato, or the Utopia of Sir Thomas More, he
took a practical existing model in actual operation here, and
never attempted or wished more than to apply it faithfully to
his own country.
6. It was not given to Moses to enter the promised land ;
but he saw it from the summit of Pisgah. It was not given
to Lafayette to witness the consummation of his wishes in
the establishment of a Republic and the extinction of all
hereditary rule in France. His principles were in advance of
the age and hemisphere in which he lived. . . . The prejudices
and passions of the people of France rejected the principle of
inherited power in every station of public trust, excepting the
first and highest of them all ; but there they clung to it, as did
the Israelites of old to the savory deities of Egypt
t. When the principle of hereditary dominion shall be extin-
guished in all the institutions of France ; when government
shall no longer be considered as property transmissible from
sire to son, but as a trust committed for a limited time, and
then to return to the people whence it came ; as a burdensome
duty to be discharged, and not as a reward to be abused ;—
then will be the time for contemplating the character of Lafay-
ette, not merely in the events of his life, but in the full devel-
opment of his intellectual conceptions, of his fervent aspira-
tions, of the labors, and perils, and sacrifices of his long- and
eventful career upon earth ; and thenceforward till the hour
when the trump of the Archangel shall sound, to announce
that time shall be no more, the name of Lafayette shall stand
enrolled upon the annals of our race high on the list of pure
and disinterested benefactors of mankind.
JOHH QlTIKOT AoiJIS.
OBATOKICAL.
865
65. AMERICAN INNOVATIONS.
Itat of hi. ttoa., """=' "" • ««'«">.an, he .land, «mo»B th,
WHY « the experiment of an extended Republic to be le.
s ,1 not tlie glory of the people of America, that while thev
other nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for
«.. quuy, for cuetom, or for name,, to overrule the «„«ge«tionI
tion, and the lesson of their own experience?
2. To this manly spirit, posterity will be indebted for the
possession, a^.d the world for the example, of the numerous
mnovations displayed on the American theatre, in favor of
private rights and public happiness.
Jvolui!-!" f '"TT '""^ '""^ *'^^"' ^y '''' '^"^^-^ of the
Revolution, for which a precedent could not be discovered -
no government established, of which an exact model did not
present itself,-the people of the United States might, at this
moment, have been numbered among the melancholy victims
ot misguided councils; must, at best, have been laboring un-
der the weight of some of those forms which have crushed the
liberties of the rest of mankind.
4. Happily for America,-bappily. we trust, for the whole
human race,-they pursued a new and more noble course.
They accomplished a Revolution which has no parallel in the
annals of human society. They reared the fabric of govern-
ments which have no model on the face of the globe They
-nned the design of a great confederacy, which it is incum-
bent on their successors to improve and perpetuate
5. It their works betray imperfection., we wonder at the
fewno«. of them. If they erred most in the structure of the
tuiun. h.i« was the most difficult to be executed ; this is the
work wnicl has been new modelled by the act of your con-
j}if
866
THE SIXTH HEADER.
vention, and it is that aut cs which you are now to deliberate
and to decide. Jambs JUdisok.
66. THE EAGLE.
' Tr>IRD of the broad and sweeping wing I
■^-^ Thy home is high iu heaven,
Where wide the storms their banners fling*
A.nd the tempest clouds are driven.
Thy throue is on the mountain top ;
Thy fields — the boundless air ;
|t„*orpv„,.xa ^n(j hoary peaks, that proudly prop ^vJtiwa
The skies — thy dwellings are.
II.
Thou sittest like a thing of light,
Amid the noontide blaze :
The midway sun is clear and bright-
It cannot dim thy gaze. f\*vX
Thy pinions to the rushing blast
O'er the bursting billow spread,
Where the vessel plunges, hurry past,
Like an angel of the dead.
^ d
,\y-f-<JU-.-«
m.
Thou art perch'd aloft on the beetling crag".
And the waves are white below,
And on, with a haste that cannot lag, 'Vjtwy k,jvia>a^
They rush in an endless flow.
Again, thou hast plumed thy wing for flight
To lands beyond the sea,
And away like a spirit wreath'd in light,
Thou hurriest wild and free.
IV,
Thou hurriest o*er the myriad waves,
And th<«i leavest then al! behind;
OBATOEICAL.
367
Thou sweepest that place of unknowu graves,
Fleet as the tempest wind. *^^
Fleet as the tempest wind.
When the night storm gathero dim and dark,
With a shrill and boding scream,
Thou rushest by the foundering bark,
Quick as a passing dream.
CCJ.
Lord of the boundless realm of air I
In thy imperial name,
The hearts of the bold and ardent dar« n-^u
The dangerous path of fame.
Beneath the shade of thy golden wings,
The Roman legions bore,
From the river of Egypt's 'cloudy springs
Their pride, to the polar shore.
▼I.
For thee they fought, for thee they feU,
And their oath was on thee laid ; Z.^^^^C
To thee the clarions raised their swel?,
And the dying warrior prayM.
Thou wert, through an age of death and fears.
The image of pride and power,
Till the gather'd rage of a thousand years
Burst forth in one awful hour.
( i*m
vn.
And then, a deluge of wrath it oarod,
And the nafons phook with droad;'
And it swept the ;..r ; : U its fields 'were flano,
Awf piled with lae icingled de^vd.
Kings were roli'd o th'., vrast^ful flood,
With the bw and crouching slave : ' a, . .. i..
And together hvf, in a slwoud of blood, ^
The coward SLn'i the brave.
368
THE SIXTH READER.
VIII.
• An^ where was then thy fearless flight?
"O'er the dark mysterious sea,
To the lands that caught the setting light.
U>vvjuu,v. The cradle of Liberty.
There, on the silent and lonely shore,
For ages I watch'd alone,
And the world, in its darkness, ask'd no more
Where the glorious bird had flown.
n.
"But then came a bold and hardy few,
And they breasted the unknown wive ;
I caught afar the wandering crewj
And I knew they were high and bravo,
I wheerd around the welcome bark,
As it sought the desolate shore ; '
And up to heaven, like a joyous lark,
My quivering pinions bore.
X.
"And now that bold and hardy few
Are a nation wide and strong,
And danger and doubt I have led them through.
And they worship me in song;
And over their bright and glancing arms
On field and lake and sea, ^
With an eye that fires, and a SfTell that charmt
I guide them to victory." ,^_
^ Pkboivai,,
67. THE PROSPECT OF WAR,
[J. C^CALnom., bom in Sonth Carolina, 1782; died, 1850.-" The eloanei,«.
^^}T.T ^^ !°'.°'*' r'' "^"^ P^**°' «»«>»& te"e, condensed, concise. Re-
•-....s -n•«ncII^ UI8 lorcc eoiwi«ied in iho plalnaeea of hia propositions, in
ORATORICAL.
369
Calhoun's oratory : J Wit^ aTenT,,' ^"^^'f^'^^ «'« following analysis of
pontics his '.abitTof anSls abstraetir H ' T'-^P^^^'^^' »>° '^PP"ed to
the problen. of govern^ trCXTthir.rf ""' vV " ^'^^ ^^
mathematics have borrowed from a,t o^nomy Th." ' '?Lf '''' '^'^'"^'•
rapid, but capricious and thprp w» ^'. "°™y- ^he winjrs of his mind were
thorn aa the^ Passer^la eTirratilT t i'^ "^'" "'^'^'^ "^^'^^ ^-- '
beholder. Engrossed with his subtoT '""' '"'^^ *° ''"^^^'^ ^h , , .
barisnis But, though oftenTncoZ/ h f '°""'^"'"' "'' P™^'"^!*^! bar
vHth him, was -ri t,?,"^"^: ;^^ Language
Which, like Angelo'B, he suspended if ^e heaves.!' ''' '" ''"" " '""'^
WE are told of the. danger of war. We are roadv m
hatre received. On the contr-irv tT r J""^' ^«
teion,-to the Congress of UU .„' 1775 °" ''''"
3. Suppose a speaker of that dav r>o,i • .IK
«... >;„ "i*;j;'" ■> '-. — .- 1^
i. Happy for 08, they h.ad i,o force at th.t „. • j ,
«o>.ntry. g,„r,. Had such hee/acL „ , ' ,'1 "' ""'
870
1
THE SIXTH READER.
in the West. No 1 we would have been vile, subjected colonies ;
governed by that imperious rod which Britain holds over her
distant provinces.
6. The gentleman is at a loss to account for what he calls
our hatred to England. He asks, How cj,n we hate the coun-
try of Locke, of Newton, Hampden, and Chatham ; a country
having the same language and customs with ourselves, and
descended from a common ancestry ?
6. Sir, the laws of human affections are steady and uniform.
If we have so much to attach us to that country, powerful, in-
deed, must be the cause which has overpowered it. Yes, sir;
there is a cause strong enough. Not that occult, courtly af-
fection which he has supposed to be entertained for France ;
but continued and unprovoked insult and injury, — a cause so
manifest, that the gentleman had to " -cert much ingenuity to
overlook it.
7. But, in his eager admiration of that country, he has nut
been suflSciently guarded in his argument. Has he reflected
on the cause of that admiration ? Has he examined the rea-
sons of our high regard for her Chatham ?
8. It is his ardent patriotism, his heroic courage, which
could not brook the least inault or injury offered to his coun-
try, buiiliought that her interest and honor ought to be vindi-
cated, be the hazard and expense what they might. I hope,
when we are called on to admire, we shall also be asked to
imitate. • j. c. Calhouu.
58. REPLY TO FOOTS RESOLUTIONS.
[ROBEBT HxrNE's powcrs of oratory first became conspicuous in an add'-.'ss
4rhieh he delivered on the anniversary of the independence of America, in
1813, before the officers and soldiers of Fort Moultrie. The purity of 4yle
and depth of pathos he evinced in this address won the applause of his hear-
ers, an.d widely extc^idcd his reputation. It was exalted still mere when hii
c&TGsr 111 thii Sftnfi.tii l>£iir&n, iis^ his st>f^^chf^. on ths Tariff in 1834. ftiid OP tlio
Bankrupt Bill, are justly famous. But the most celebrated are those deliv-
•red in tbd great debate on Mr. Foot's resolutions. Of the liut of these, aa
ORATORICAL.
871
•ble writer na« 8«d "As an effort . f .nteUect, It will rank among tho Li-^.est
n the annals of American eloquence."-" He had a copious and ready ofocu
tlon flowing at will m , strong and steady current, and rich In the m! erTal
wh.eh constitutes argument." In tine, Nature had lavished upon hhn L
those gifts of person and mind which fascinate the stranger, and at the same
time rendered his influence so powerful over those wit.f whom h lei
contact in the various walks of life. "The speeches of Mr. Havne'Z bo
SnUn'^'nT . >' ""* ''"'""^ ^P^'^'"^''"^ °* ^'^^^-^^ for /eclamaTor
discIpUne which have ever emanated from our National Councils."]
npHE gentleman from Massachusetts, in reply to my remarks
-L on the injurious operations of our land system on the
prosperity of the West, pronounced an extravagant eulogium
on the paternal care which the Government had extended
towards the West, to which he attributed all that was great
and excellent in the present condition of the new States.
2. The language of the gentleman on this topic fell upon
my ears like the almost forgotten tones of the Tory 'leaders of
the British Parliament at the commencement of the American
Revolution. They, too, discovered that the colonies had
grown great under the fostering care of the mother-country •
and I must confess, while listening to the gentleman I
thought the appropriate reply to his argument was to 'be
found m the remark of a celebrated orator made on that occa
810U : " They have grown great,in spite of your protection."
^ ^'^' 'e<^ nie tell that gentleman, that the South
repudiates the idea that a pecuniary dependence on the Fed-
eral Government is one of the legitimate means of h-'diug the
States together. A moneyed interest in the Government is
essentially a base interest ; and just so far as it operates tc
bind the feelings of those who are subjected to it, to the Gov-
ernment—just so far as it operates in creating sya.pathiea
and interests that would not otherwise exist-is it opposed to
all the principles of free government, and at war with virtue
and patriotism
4. The honorable gentleman from Massachusetts has gone
out of his way to pass a high eulogium on the State of Ohio,
in the most impassioned tones of eloquence, he described her
majestic mai|;h to greatness. He told us tha having alr**ady
~^
II
1U
873
THE SIXTH READER.
F '.
wr
left ull the other States far behind, she wa« uow passing by
Virginia and Pennsylvania, and about to take her station bv
the side jf New York.
5. To all this, sir, I was disposed moat cordially to respr nd
When, however, the gentleman proceeded to contrast the
State of Ohio with Kentucky, to the disadvantage of the lat-
ter, I listened to him with regret; and when he proceeded
further to attribute the great, and, as he supposed, acknowj.
edged superiority of the former in population, wealth, and gen-
eral prosperity, to the policv of Nathan Dane, of Massachusetts,
which had secured to the people of Ohio a population of froo'
men, I will confess that my feelings suffered a revulsion,
which A am now imable to describe in any language sufls'
ciently respectful towards th<' gentleman from Massachusf'tts.
6. Did thftt g ntleman, sir, when he formed the determina-
tion to cross the Southern border, in order to invade the
State of South Carolina, deem it prudent or necessary to enlist
under hi , banners the prejudices of the world, v hich like
Swiss t:.|-, may be engaged in any cause, and are pre-
pared to .trTO undef any leader? Did he desire to avail him.
self of Ihi.^v remorseless allies, the passions of mankind, of
which it may be more truly said than of the savage tribes of
the wilderness, " that their known rule of warfare is an indis-
criminate slaughter of all ages, sexes, and conditions ?"
t. Or was it supposed, sir, that, in an unpremeditated and
unprovoked attack upon the South, it was advisable to begin
by a gentle admonition of our supposed weakness, in order to
prevent us from making that firm and manly resistance due
to our own character and our dearest interest ?
8. Was the significant hint of the \veaknes3 of slaveholding
States, when contrasted with the superior strength of free
States, like the glare of the weapon, half drawn from its scab-
bard, intended to enforce the lessons of prudence and patriot-
ism whicl the gentleman has resolved, out of his abundant
generosity, gratuitously to bestow upon us ?
I know it has been supposed by certain ill-informed pei*
a
cr.
OBAToaicAL.
878
•ons that the South exists only by the protection and counte-
nance « ' the North ti • . . ^'^""''®*
,, - ,, , ^ here 18 a spirt which like
ea, h seekms: "horn it „ay devour ;» it is the spirit of false
p ,b„thr„py. Ue persons whom it possesses leure their own
'' "f" of others. The.rs is the task to feed .1.,. hungry
... olothe the naked of oth.-r lands, while th, „st ^
1 i ; ''T^:'-r'' *'"""« ""««" f™-" *eir . .u do'rs-
L:; "fte "*"■■ """ '^^'^ ""■' """""^ -"' '"e
vfthe^ ' "Tr"™ "'""'"^■'"ff ""•"f '- ™- efforts to
V the G<n,e,. ent from its w.se policy in .elation to the In-
una. . . . Do gentlemen value the Union at so low a price that
Z r T T" """^ °"^ '«•''" '" bind ,he States to.ethe'
»,.h the ehord of affection? Is this the spirit in whi^h tW
ZTT . 'I '" ,"' """'■■"'^'ored ? If s„: let me tell yt
."rrt^e^rs"'"''-^-"--''"---
ROBBBT T. HATSB.
^#:.
;l ,J5
69. SONG OF MARION'S MEN.
QUE band is few, but true and tried,—
^^ Our leader frank and bold ;
The British soldier trembles
When Marion's name is told.
Our fortress is the good green wood,
Our tent the cypress-tree ;
We know the forest round us,
As seamen know the sea.
We know its walls of thorny vines
'^'^ Its glades of reedy grass, '
it.. ..„\^ „ira sileiic islands
Within the dark morass.
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*^* THE SIXTH READBB.
2. Woo to the English soldiery
That little dread us near I
On them shall light, at midnight,
A strange and sudden fear :
When, waking to their tents on fire,
They grasp their arms in vain,
And they who stand to face us
Are beat to earth again ;
And they who fly in terror deem
A mighty host behind,
And hear the tramp of thousands
Upon the hollow wind.
«•«
8. Then sweet the hour that brings release
From danger and from toil :
We talk the battle over,
And share the battle's spoil.
The woodland rings with laugh and shout;
As if a hunt were up ;
And woodland flowers are gathered
To crown the soldier's cup.
With merry songs we mock the wind
That in the pine-top grieves,
And slumber long and sweetly.
On beds of oaken leaves.
1 Well knows the fair and friendly moon
The band that Marion leads—
'^he glitter of their rifles,
>iUw-'^uu. The scampering of their steeds.
^ »Tis life to guide the fiery barb
Across the moonlight plain ;
Tis life to feel the night-wind
That lifts his tossing mane, {a^^^'^*^
A moment in the British camp—
A moment — and away,
6.
[The r»,,r
Websteb*8 ^
personalities
ciated his vi
perspicuity oi
eloquence, lia
•lember of u
thouglits, fore
air of dignity,
of his career
afterlife. His
from tlie spirii
hot iron." In
to Preston in p
versatile gracei
MATCHE
cable e
than this. £
we are, Thi
ual honor an(
ORATORICAL.
Back to the pathless forest,
Beibre the peep of day. ^^^
6. Grave raen there are by broad Santee
Grave men with hoary hairs ;
Their hearts are all with Marion,
For Marion are their prayers. '
And lovely ladies greet our band,
With kindliest welcoming.
With smiles like cnose of summer,
And tears like those of spring '
For them we wear these trusty Lrms,
And lay them down no more,
nil we have driven the Briton'
Forever from our shore.
70. MATCHES AND OVER-MATCHEa
Btt
i^v
Bbyakt.
personalities against Mr. Webster ^nTi^ ^^""eman had Indulged In
ciated his v,ews of "N.^SLT ^The^v'tTT "''"'^^^ ^°"°-
perspicuity ol style, in sound logic lieen saroSi / "^ ^' '''■'°^' ""^
Eloquence, has scarcely its equal in the Vn^rT,' ° ^^''^^'^'^^ and lofty
•ember of fong^ess, Mr WMe of rl ^ ^ '"^'^°- ^ distinguished
thoughts, forclDlTex^rVssiors ehor IZ^"' ""'", "' "'"''''''^ ^'^^^ »»'« <*««?
^airof dignity. «eep, ^e^^^^^Z::^^ ^^^^ manne,
from the spirit of IheT-y ocean-^r / ' '"''^'''^'^^ ^o b7emanatlonb
hotiron.'.'leompari JhZ";^^^^^^ '^'^"'"^"^ caustic aa red-
to Preston in patho's hfaclTtTe eltT^^^^ '^ '' ^"-^^-^'^ ^"^--r
^eniat:ie graci of ciay.] ^ '^' """^ ^' °^ ^'^°"°. ^"^^ the
M'tlbl!!? "t °-™^«'-B ! Those terms are more applL
than hi t:tr T '"^' ^"' '"^^ '''' "^^- — '•
wearl'''U'r:rsr^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^'^^ -^ what
ual honor and n«r. T!' '''' '^^"^^'' "^'"en of Individ-
h mor and personal character, and of absolute independence.
t ,
W'
•<llli
S7e
THE SIXTH READEB.
We know no masters ; we acknowledge no dictators. This \»
a hall for mutual consultation and discussion ; not an arena
for the exhibition of champions.
2. I oflFer myself, sir, as a match for no man ; I throw the
challenge of debate at no man's feet. But, then, sir, sincb the
honorable member has put the question, in a manner that calla
or an answer, I will give him an answer ; and I tell him,
that, holding myself to be the humblest of the members hero,'
I yet know nothing in the arm of his friend from Missouri,'
either alone, or when aided by the arm of his friend froni
South Carolina, that need deter even me from espousing what-
ever opinions I may choose to espouse, from debating when-
ever I may choose to debate, or from speaking whatever I
may see fit to say on the floor of the Senate.
3. Sir, when uttered as matter of commendation or compli-
ment, I should dissent from nothing which the honorable mem-
ber might say of his friend. Still less do I put forth any
pretensions of my own. But, when put to me as matter of
\a^ taunt, I throw it back, and say to the gentleman that he could
possibly say nothing less likely than such a comparison to
wound my pride of personal character. The anger of its tone
rescued the remark from intentional irony, which, otherwise,
probably, would have been its general acceptation.
4 But, Kir, if it be imagined that, by this mutual quotation
and commendation ; if it be supposed that, by casting the
characters of the drama, assigning to each his part,— to one,
the attac* ; to another, the cry of onset ;— or, if it be thought
that, by a loud and empty vaunt of anticipated victory, any
laurels are to be won here ; if it be imagined, especially,' that
any or all these things shall shake any purpose of mine,— I
can tell the honorable member, once for all, that he is greatly
mistaken, and that he is dealing with one of whose temper
and character he has yet much to learn.
6. Sir, I shall not allow myself, on this occasion,— I hope on
no occasion,— to be betrayed into any loss of temper ; but if
provoked, as I trust I ne\er shall uilow myself to be, into
^
y
K'
ORATORICAL.
377
cnmmation and recrimination, the honorable member ma-
perhaps, find that in that contest ihere will be blows to take'
a8 well as blows to give; that others can state companions
as significant, at least as his own ; and that his in.punity may
perhaps, demand of him whatever powers of taunt and sar^
casm he may possess. I commend him to a prudent husbandry
01 ins resources. '
Webster.
71. THE SOUTH DURINa THE REVOLUTION
TP there be one State in the Union. Mr. President (and I
A say It not m a boastful spirit), that may challenge com-
parison with any other for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and un .
calculating devotion to the Union, that State is South Caro-
2 Sir, from the very commencement of the Eevolution up ta
7' T " "" ''"''^^' ^""^^- ^--t, she has not
eerfully made ; no service she has ever hesitated to perform
S e has adhered to you in your prosperity ; but in your advet
«ty she has clung to you with more tha^ filial affection.
3. No matter what was the condition of her dome.iio affairs
though deprived of her resources, divided by parties or sur'
rounded by difficulties, the call of the countr/hLte; to hi
as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceafed at the sound
very man became at once reconciled to his brethren, and-the'
ous of Carohna were all seen crowding together to th; temple
bnngmg their gifts to the altar of their common country
I t.on? Sir. I honor New England for her conduct in that
Wious s ruggle. But great as is the praise which belo g
to her. I think at least equal honor is due to the South They
espoiised the quarrel of their brethren with a gene ous zf
le'dtpl:" '''-' '''^ " ''-' '' -^-'- ^^^^^ '•---';
shittrJl" ''/'" -«ther-country, possc.ed of .cither
ship, nor seamen to create commercial rivabship. they might
m^ *
878
THE SIXTH READER.
have found in their situation a guarantee that their tnuh
would be forever fostered and protected by Great Britain
But, trampling on all considerations, either of interest or ot
safety, they rushed into the conflict, and, fighting for principle
periled all in the sacred cause of freedom.
6. Never was there exhibited, in the history of the world
higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and he-
roic endurance, than by the Whigs of Carolina, during the
Revolution.
1. The whole State, from the mountains to the sea, was
ovei-run by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits
of industry perished on the spot where they were produced,
or were consumed by the foe. The " plains of Carolina" drank
up the most precious blood of her citizens I Black and smok-
ing ruins marked the places which had been the habitations of
her children.
8. Driven from their homes into the gloomy and almost im-
penetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived,
and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sumpters
and her Marions, proved by her conduct, that, though her soil
might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invincible.
73. THE FEDERAL UNION.
T PROFESS, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept
■*• steadily in view the prosperity and the honor of the whole
country, and the preservation of the Federal Union. I have
not allowed myself to look beyond the Union, to see what
might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly
weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds
that unite us together shall be broken asunder,
2. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice
of disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom
the depths of the abyss below ; nor could I regard him &a
ORATORICAL.
879
a safe counsellor in the affairs of this government, whose
^ thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how tiie
Union should be preserved, but how tolerable might be the
condition of the people when it shall be broken up and de-
fitroyed.
3. While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying
prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Be-
yond that, I seek not to penetrate the vail. God grant, that
in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise I God grant'
that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind I
4. When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last
time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the
broken and dishonored fragments of a once-glorious Union •
on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent „ ^-^
with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood I LJL
5. Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather behold '^
the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now known and honored
throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and
trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased
or polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for its motto
no such miserable interrogatory e^a,-What is all this worth f
nor those other words of delusion and folly -Libert,/ first, and
Union afterward; but everywhere spread all over in charac.
ters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds as they float
over the sea, and over the laud, and in every wind under the
whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true Amer-
ican heart,-LiBEBTY and Union, now and forever, one and
iksepabable !
Webstbb.
f >Jt
• • 78. PEACEABLE SECESSION.
OIR, he who sees these States now revolving in harmony
around a common centre, and expects to see them quit
their places and liy off without convulsion, may look the next
hour to see the heavenly bodies rush from their spheres and
m
i?ii
S80
THE SIXTH KEADEB.
..I'
Ava^jm^
jostle against each other in the realms of space, without canB-
ing the crush of the universe.
2. There can be uo sucli thing as a peaceable secessioa
Peaceable secession is an utter impossibility. Is the great
Constitution under which we live, covering this whole coun.
. try, is it to be thawed and melted away by secession, as thi
snows on the mountain melt under the influence of a vernal
sun, disappear almost unobserved, and run off ?
3 No, sir ! No, sir 1 I will not state what might produce
the disruption of the Union : but, sir, I see, as plainly as I see
the sun in heaven, what that disruption itself must produce-
I see that it must produce war, and such a war as I will not
describe, in its ttwfold character.
^ 4. Peaceable secession I— peaceable secession 1 The con
, current agreement of all the members of this great republic
^ separate I A voluntary separation, with alimony on one
side and on the other. Why, what would be the result?
Where is the line to be drawn ? What States are to secede?
What IS to remain America? . What am I to be? An Arae^
lean no longer? Am I to become a sectional man a local
man, a separatist, with no country in common with the gen-
tlemen who sit around me here, or who fill the other House of
Congress ?
6. Heaven forbid I Where is the flag of the republic to
remain? Where is the eagle still to tower ?-or is he
to cower, and shrink, and fall to the ground? Why sir our
ancestors-our fathers and our grandfathers, those' of ihem
that are yet living amongst us, with prolonged lives- would
rebuke and reproach us; and our children and our grand-
children would cry out shame upon us, if we, of this genera-
tion, should dishonor these ensigns of the power of the ffov
ernment and the harmony of th)at Union, which is every lliv*
felt among us with so much joy and gratitude
6. What ia to become of the army? What is to become of
the navy ? What is to become of the public lands ' How i»
any one of the thirty States to defend itseil'?
hout
ORATORICAL.
cans-
381
secessioa
the great
Jole coun.
M, as thi
a vernal
t produce
J^ as I see
produce ;
[ will not
The con
republic
y on one
e result?
> secede f
k^u Amer-
', a local
the gen-
Souse of
There a.e „«„., cau:!' L'„ w' r„r; .■" "" """■'"^■
and there are social and domoet io rdal Z T '"^'"'""■^
- ^-^ if we .„„,, a.d w^- rc:c;r'?j: ™r
Webst ^
74. FREE TRADE
s"; c:s:::e"a:t;::::t"'j ""* ^- *-■ -•■>
Srea. orator of vSa wfl ',""■"' '"■""'^'^ Henry, the
freedom, eay, on ZZ^'r "" "^ "'^ '«'"?'« »' «
beV::ix°"ro:rr;r""r' 'fa..a„,-„-„eha™, , f
^;o^;n.v.t ,et r,^.r;;: v::~arf t"'-^^'!
stand erect. '."^"w /Jts fe^rs, and he will "
4:r:Hir.-ra„n:rorr ;'•■■• ^.^^ -
leaven to bless the land with pl^ty » " ""''' "'
■f aii'l-ons'^orr^t iniTr V ™"'^ '" ^^ -^"
5. I am persuaded, sir that tv,;.,^
™r. If retaliation is rl^: "fortl'rnU '"'''' '"^— ^^
prodncng a redress of prievanre win ^l'"™"^' P^P^o of "^ "™*i
*an there is a hope of s„ccer' iT »! 1 r' '° "° '""S-
"etimes j„st and neoessarrBn if7; ° "" l'"''' ""
"il i« the unprofitable comllt otl ^\° "'"'' '*J™''
"Iter most harm." '^"'"^ "'"'='> "an do the
>" "-/po^ibie": L ft: ;:°:h":" "•' p-""""^-
' * "^""e' whether more or less
( '
I )
..f%.
;,4i&ti'
882
THE SIXTH REAPER.
restricted, is profitable, or it is not. This can only be do
cided by experience ; and if the trade be left to regulate itHoKi
water would not more naturally seek its level than the inter
course adjust itself to the true interest of the parties.
7. Si;, as to this idea of the regulation by government ot
the pursuits of men, I consider it as a remnant of barbarism,
disgraceful to an enlightened age, and inconsistent with tlie
first principles of rational liberty. I hold governnient to be
utterly incapable, from its position, of exercising such a power
wisely, prudently, or justly.
8. Are the rulers of the world the depositaries of its col-
lected wisdom ? Sir, can we forget the advice of a great
statesman to his son : " Go, see the world, my son, that you
may see with how little wisdom mankind is governed."
9. And is our own government an exception to this rule, or
do we not find here, as everywhere else, that
"Man, proud man,
Dressed in a little brief authority.
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, fUuo
Aa make the angels weep ?"
HAim
75. OUR COUNTRY.
THIS lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign institu-
tions (the dear purchase of our fathers), are ours : ours to
enjoy, ours to preserve, ours to transmit; generations past,
md generations to come, hold us responsible for this trust.
Our fathers from behind ^admonish us with their anxious par*
ntal voices ; posterity calls out to us from the bosom of the
future ; the world turns hither with its solicitous eye ; all, all
conjure us to act wisely and faithfully in this relation which
we sustain.
2. We can never, indeed, pay the debt which is upon us ;
but, by virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of
every good habit, we may hope to enjoy the blessings through
our day, and to leave them unimpaired to our children. Let
ORATORICAL.
88>
D8 feel deeply how much of wh..t we are and what we poasesB
we owe to this liberty and these institutions of government '
3. Nature has, indeed, given us a soil which yields boun.
teously to the hand of industry ; the n.ighty and fruitful
ocean ,8 before us, and the skies over our head shed health
and vigor. But what are lands and seas, and skies, to civil-
zed man, without society, without knowledge, without morals,
without religious culture ? and how can these be enjoyed in
all their excellence, but under the protection of wise institu.
tions and a free government?
4. There is no American who does not at this moment, and
at every moment, experience in his own condition, and in the
condition of the most near and dear to him, the influence and
benefits of this liberty, of these institutions. Let us then
acknowledge the blessing ; let us feel it deeply and power^
fully ; let us cherish a strong affection for it, and resolve to
maintain and perpetuate it. The blood of our fathers, let it
not have been shed in vain ; the great hope of posterity, let it
not be blasted. '(cN. ''
5. The striking attitude, too, in which we stand to the world
around us, cannot be altogether omitted. Neither individuals
nor nations can perform their part well, until they understand
and appreciate all the duties belonging to it. It is not to in-
flate national vanity, nor to swell a light and empty fee-i «• of
self-importance, but it is that we may judge justly of "our
situation, and of our duties, that I earnestly urge the con-
sideration of our position and our character among the nations
of the earth.
6. It cannot be denied but by those who would dispute
against the sun, that with America, and in America, a new
era commences in human affairs. This era is distinguished by
free representative government, by entire religious liberty
by improved systems of national intercourse, by a newly
awakened and unconquerable spirit of inquiry, and by diffu-
sion of knou ..-dge among the community, such as has been
Jx^fore altogether unheard of and unknown. America 1 Amei^
' m
I ail
m
884
THE SIXTH REAOEB.
ica f our country, our dear native land, is inseparably con-
nected, fast bound up in fortune and by fate, with these gical
interests. If they fall, we fall with them. If they stand, it will
be because we have upheld them. Wedsteu.
76. THE STATE CONSTITUTION.
[Hon. Wn.LiAM Ga8ton was born In South Carolina, 1778. His Conprei.
■ional career woa of unsurpassed brilliancy. As a profound jurist he vfit> alto
eminent among the groat legal minds of our country. But his greatest prawe
waa in his profoundly religious life. No political or judicinl business cvur
prevented him from observing every duty of a zealous, practical Christian.]
QIR, I am opposed, out and out, to any interference of the
^ State with the opinions of its citizens, and more especially
with their opinions on religious subjects. Tiie good order of
society requires that actions and practices injurious to the
public peace and public morality should be restrained, and but
a moderate portion of practical good sense is required to
enable the proper authorities to decide what conduct is really
thus injurious.
2. But to decide on the truth or error, on the salutary or
pernicious consequences of opinions, requires a skill in dia-
lectics, a keenness of discernment, a forecast and comprehen-
sion of mind, and, above all, an exeraptiou from bias, which do
not ordinarily belong to human tribunals.
3. The preconceived opinions of him who is appointed to try
become the standard by which the opinions of others are
mfiasured, and as these correspond with, or differ from his
own, they are pronounced true or false, salutary or pernicious.
Let the Arminian pass on the doctrines of the high Calviiiist,
and he will have no hesitation in branding them as utterly
destructive of the distinctions between right and wrong, and
leading to the subversion of all morality.
4. Let the Oaiviiiist determine on the soundness and tlie
tendencies of the Arminian faith, aud he will have little diffi-
'•h
ORATORICAL. ^ ^95
culty in arraigning it fur blasphemy, as ir^pil,; the Ahnighty
GH and needing not Uis grace. Law is the propi judge
of achon, and reward or puninhment its proper sanction i ^
5. Reason is the proper umpire of opinion, and argun.e^ *^'^'^
and d,scuHs,on its only fit advocates. To denounce opinion,
by .aw ,s as sdly. and unfortunately much n.ore tyrannical, a. ^t"
•t would be to punish crime by logic. Law calls out the forc<
of the commun.ty to compel obedience to its mandates To
operate on opinion by law,is to enslave the intellect and op-
press the soul-to reverse the order of nature and make
reason subservient to force.
(i. But of all the attempts to arrogate unjust dominion, none
|« 80 pernic.ous as the efforts of tyrannical men to rule over tbe
human conscience. Religion is exclusively an affair between
man and his God. If there be any subject upon which the
interference of human power is more forbidden than on all
othersyt 18 on religion. Born of Faith.-nurtured by Hope -
invigorated by Charity.-looking for its rewards in a world
beyond the grave.—it is of heavea, heavenly
7. The evidence on which it is founded, and the sanctions
by which It 18 upheld, are addressed 8<.lely to the understand-
.ng and the purified affections. Even He from whom cometh
every pure and perfect gift, and to whom religion is directed
as Its author, its end, and its exceeding great reward, imposes
no coercion on His children. He causes His sun to shine
alike on the believer and the unbeliever and His dews to fer-
tihze equally the soil of the orthodox and the heretic
8. No earthly gains or temporal privations are to influence
heir judgment here, and it is reserved until the last day foi
tl.e just Judge of all the earth to declare who have criminally
refused to examine or to credit the evidences which were laid
before them.
9. But civil rulers thrust themselves in, and become God's
avengers, under a pretended zeal for the honor of His house
and the propagation of His levelation-
17
386 THE SIXTH READER.
|w^jl^Jw " Snatch from his hand the balanco ami the rod ;
Rejudge his justice— are the gods of God,"
to define faitli by edicts, statutes, and constitutions ; deal out
largesses to accelerate conviction, and refute unbelief and
heresy by the unanswerable logic of pains and penalties.
10. Let not religion be abustd for this impious tyranny—,
religion has nothing to do with it. Nothing can be conceived
more auhorrent to the spirit of true religion, than the hjpo
critical pretensions of kings, princes, and magistrates to up
hold her holy cause by their unholy violence,
JcDOK Gaston.
77. THE FOLLY OF DISUNION.
THREATS of resistance, secession, separation, have become
common as household words, in the wicked and silly
violence of public declaimers. The public ear is familiarized,
and the public mind will soon be ac justor.ied to the detestable
Buggeations o#di8DNION ! ^ ,. , . ^
2. Calculations and conjectures, what may the East do with-
out the South, and what may the South do without the Bust;
fvtwiv<JA. sneers, menaces, reproaches, and recriminations, all tend to
the same fatal end 1 What can the East do without the
South ? What can the South do without the East ?
3. They may do much ; they may exhibit to the curiosity
of political anatomists, and the pity and wonder of the world,
the "disjecta membra," the sundered and bleeding limbvS of a
once gigantic body instinct with life, and strength, and vi^or,
Vhoy can furnish to the philosophic historian another melan
choly and striking instance of the political axiom, that all
republican confederacies have an inherent and unavoidable
• tendency to dissolution,
4. They will present fields and occasions for border wars,
' for leagues and counter-leagues, for the intrigues of petty
itate8n>en, the strusrgles of military chiefs, for confiscations,
ORATORICAL.
887
insurrections, and deeds of darkest hue. Ti.ey will daddpn
te hearts of those who have proclai.ned that men are not
fat to govern themselves, and shed a disastrous eclipse on
the h.pes of rational freedom throughout the world
5 Solon, in his code, proposed no punishment for parricide
treating it as an impossible crime. Such, with us, ought to be
the crime or political parricide-the dismemberment of our
" fatherland."
Oastoit.
78. PARTY SPIRIT.
pARTIES and party men may deserve reprobation for their
A selfishness, their violence, their errors, or their wicked-
ness. Ihey may do our country much^ harm. They may
retard its growth, destroy its harmony, impair its character,
ender its institutions unstable, pervert the public mind, and
deprave the public morals. These are, indeed, evils, and sore
evile; but the principle of life remains, and will yet struggle,
, w. h assured success, over these temporary maladies.
2. Still we are great, glorious, united and free ; still we
have a name that is revered abroad, and loved at home-a
name which is a tower of strength to us against foreign
w ong, and a bond of internal union and harmony_a name
w nch no enemy pronounces but with respect, and which no
citizen hears but with a throb of exultation. U..o^
3. Still we have that blessed Constitution, Ihich, with all
^pretended defects, and all its alleged violations, has con-
fd more benefit on man than ever yet flowed from any
thet institut,on-which has established justice, insured d.;
^estic tranquillity, provided for the common defence promoted
the general welfare, and which, under God, if weTtrue '
^^, will insure the blessings of liber'ty to us aid o^^
4^Surely, such a country and such a Constitution have
claims upon you, my friends, whiph cannot be disregarded. I
888
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
entreat and adjure you, then, by all that is near and dear to
you on earth, by all the obligations of patriotism, by the
memory of your fathers, who fell in the great and glorious
struggle, for the sake of your sons, whom you would not have
to blush for your degeneracy, by all j'our proud recollections
of the past, and all the fond anticipations of the future renown
of our nation — preserve that country, uphold that Constitution.
5. Resolve that they shall not be lost while in your keep-
ing, and may God Almighty strengthen you to perform that
vow 1 Gastom.
It i
79. F^TIOUS POWER
[On the subject of the Loan Bill of twenty-flve millions, Mr. Calhoun, in the
course of his speech in favor of this bill, had reflected quite severely on what
ho termed the factious opposition to the Administration, which might be
salutary to a monarchy, but was highly inappropriate in a government so re-
publican as ours.J
IF this doctrine were then to be collected from the history of
the world, can it now be doubted, since the experience of
the last twenty-five years? Go to Prance — once revolution-
ary, now imperial France — and ask her whether factious
power or intemperate opposition be the more fatal to freedom
and happiness.
2. Perhaps at some moment, when the eagle eye of her
master is turned away, she may whisper to you to beiiold the
demolition of Lyons, or the devastation of La Vendee, Per-
haps she will give you a written answer.
3. Draw near the fatal lamp-post, and by its flickering light
read it as traced in characters of blood that flowed from the
guillotine, — " Faction is a demon — faction out of power is a j
demon enchained — faction vested with the attributes of rule j
is a Moloch of destruction 1"
4. In this question I assuredly have a very deep interest,
but it is the interest of the citizen only. My public career, I
hope, will not coutinue long. Should it please the Disposer of
ORATORICAL.
889
events to permit me to see the ffrcat mtor^^t ^f n • .•
fided to men who will secure itfrkl « """"" '"'^•
•nd impartiality abroad Tnd ah ' T"''' "^^^^^^-^'■"«.
J auiudu, and at home- cu tivato tliR ,iita ,./
peace, encourage honest industi-v in nil i, i «- ™ aug „(
equal justice to ail classes of tl» ""'' ''"'P"'"''
il- tie Goveroment inl L ""'""'"'"y' "'"I U'us admin-
trust for the p"p e Vofas Tbr'"' "' "'" C"-'""""". ■"
le to «e utterfyllpo^rtl b, l^Z'V T"'' " "''"
may be characteH J ' ' ''"'""'"' 'P'*'' "^^
Gastok.
I : ■>
A i
80 THE PERMANENCE OF AMERICAN UBEETT
of the an of PHntiur4'':*':::r::;rce ":'■'''■"
resentative principle into their Dolitieall '"■ '^ ""> "''^P-
had understond it T .u P"""<!al systems, even if they
Plecano^yro'exln'v;"^;'''"'^ "' T^'' "'^' P''-^
9 l„ ,K- °°''^'«"'"™ "itl" popular infeUigence.
l'"P"lati„„, scattered over a vast extlrif f . ' "°"""^
Pnt™ the population of the citle ! f 't""'"'^' »" '""""•
:;-.-.. and necessarily utr to^ CZ'Z^t,
!ft
890
THE SIXTH BEADER.
walls of the great city. Even when her dominion extended
beyond Italy to the utmost known limits of the inhabited
world, the city was the exclusive seat both of intelligence and
empire.
4. Without the art of printing, and the consequent advan-
tages of a free press, that habitual and incessant action of
mind upon mind, which is essential to all human improvement,
could no more exist, among a numerous and scattered popula-
tion, than the commerce of disconnected continents could trav-
erse the ocean without the art of navigation.
6. Here, then, is the source of our superiority, and our just
pride as a nation. The statesmen of the remotest extrcmea
of the Union can converse together, like lue philosophers of
Athens, in the same portico, or the politicians of Rome, in the
same forum. Distance is overcome, and the citizens of Georgia
and of Maine can be brought to co-operate in the same great
object, with as perfect a community of views and feelings, as
actuated the tribes of Rome, in the assemblies of the people.
6. It is obvious that liberty has a more extensive and dura-
ble foundation in the United States than it ever has had in
any other age or country. By the representative principle— a
principle unknown and impracticable among the ancients — the
whole mass of society is brought to operate, in constraining
the action of power, and in the conservation of public liberty.
McDuiTIB.
\)lv^.\
81. NEW TERRITORIES.
SIR, the territories which have come under our guardianship
are, in my judgment, of more worth than to be made the
mere make-weights in the scales of sectional equality. They
are entitled to another sort of consideration, than to be cut up,
and partitioned off, like trodden-down Poland, in order to
satisfy the longings and appease the jealousiea of surround log
fitates.
3. They an
regulated by
welfare of th
destined to oi
view of augn
of us.
3. Mr. Chair
Union the seai
wealths, the ni
I see in them t
and our childre:
4. I see, gro
which the chart
American famih
are to depend.
i"g of these ins
occupy these s{
omit to ask myg
gratitude and th
curse, of that pc
committed to mj;
6. Here, then,
explained, to the
tain of the great
misrepresented h
they caimot be m
is even willing, t(
6. C'ue tie, he
8.11— a common d^
common determini
its preservation.
vast republic, sti
growing every thi
tl'is day, to take ci
T. Nor is it too 1
the friends of cons
ORATORICAL.
39]
.nd ou.. children'^ cl Mren fla 1 / '™' """• '=''"'''"''
4 I «,.„ „ """trea, loi a thousand generations.
occupy these seat, 2 f " ' ""^ ""''' "'"' <"■ "^ "ho
»..itt^as;; letw: t' haT dTT^'^n. '"." ' """"•"
tain of the great questions of the dav Thn.. •
misrepresented hereafter a« thp! T^' J ""''""'^ ""^^ ^^
fi. , "tJiearrer, as they have been h('retoff>rP • h.,*
emwing every thins but o„ Tff t , ?' '■'''"'"^' '""
-; ^. to tie „a.^ r ::■ r::-::- r ^n^r "^ '" -
con8t,tut.onal Ireedon, throughout the world ara
' J-
1 ""' ! ''Ui
392
THE SIXTH READEB.
at this moment turned eagerly here— more eagerly than ever
before-^to behold an example of successful republican institu-
tions, and to see them come out safely and triumphantly from
the fiery trial to which they are now subjected.
8. I have the firmest faith that these eyes and these hearts
will not be disappointed. I have the strongest belief that the
isions and phantoms of disunion which now appal us, will sooc
^)e remembered only like the clouds of some April morning, or
"the dissolving views" of some evening spectacle. I have the
fullest couviction that this glorious republic is destined to out-
last all— all at either end of the Union, who may be plotting
against its peace, or predicting its downfall. :-;
" Fond, impious man I thlnk'st thou yon sanguine cloud,
Raised by thy breath, can quench the orb of day?
To-morrow, it repairs its golden flood,
And warms the nations with redoubled ray !"•
9. Let us proceed in the settlement of the unfortunate con-
troversies in which we find ourselves involved, in a spirit of
mutual conciliation and concession; let us invoke fervently
upon our efforts the blessings of that Almighty Being who is
"the author of peace and the lover of concord." And we
shall still find order springing out of confusion, harmony
evoked from discord, and peace, union, and liberty once more
reassured to our land ! Winthrop.
82. THE DISINTERESTEDNESS OF WASHINGTON.
nnO the pen of the historian must be resigned the more
-■- arduous and elaborate tribute of justice to those efforts
)f heroic and political virtue, which conducted the American
peoplt! to peace and liberty. The vanquished foe retired from
our shores, and left to the controlling genius who repelld
them the rrratitude of his own country, and the admiration of
the world.
^ 2. The time had now arrived which was to apply the touch
stone to his integrity— which was to assay the affinity of his
ORATOBIOAL.
393
pnncplcs to fho rta„<iard of i„„„t„b|„ ri.ht. On I1,e on,
Laud a roa ,„ to which ho wa. end.ared by his .erv ™ 7
.n««t .nv,tc.d hi,,, to e,„„ire; a,..l on tl,o othe,-, .he 1 ;
ana boon of human nature.
3. Washington could not depart from his own ^reat self
eici^nty of th«i globe united to the sceptre of a-os I
4. Enthroned in the hearts of his countrymen^ the gor.^eous
ugeantry of prerogative was unworthy the majesty of hi^H^^
dummion. That effulgence of military character which in V^^
ancient states has blasted the nVhts of t'^. i u
nown it had brightened wL nnf^ t•^^P«"P'e whose re-
i^iJgniened, was not here perm tted. by the hprn
on, whon, .emanated, to shine with so destruc ivo flu tTe
IIS b„am», though intensely .-esplendent, did not wither he
yonng blossoms of „„r independence; Ind liberty ike ,H
hn,n,,,g bnsh, fl„„rish„d „nco„s„n,ed by the gw/whlc,: stt
to exWbirtl'"""™'," ^7'"'' "' ""■• ■•"P'"'"" -» >■' reserved
he luminaries among which it rolled, never portended ^
» inumpn at the burning mouth of a volcapn T-. i.- ^
-u,.n.a.e erected no an.i.iary n.o,.:,:::: to W in'^Td:;
.. to ::r.,: '''^■'"' "■ ""™' """'*^" '-■^-'-
^H-n, to inscribe his name on the pillar of Fompe3^.
R- T. Pawb.
1-7*
r
ifjii
» 4 . V>
»^4
THE SIXTH READER.
83. OUR REPUBLIC.
[TroM v« frv^mo ha8 filled with honor some of the most important no,t8 In
to Umon. At tho bur of the Supreme Court, and in the Senate iTiri.
holds a tnsungulshed place aa a powerful and brilliant orator.] ' *
QIR, otxr republic has long been a theme of speculation
y among the savans of Europe. They profess to have cast
Its horoscope and fifty years was fixed upon by many as the
utmost hmit of its duration. But those years passed by, and
beheld us a united and happy people ; our political atmos,
phere agitated by no storm, and scarce a cloud to obscure the
serenity of our horizon ; all of the present was prosperity ; all
ot the future, hope. -^ » •
2. True, upon the day of that anniversary two venerated
fathers of our freedom and of our country fell ; but they sank
calmly to rest, in the maturity of years and in the fulness of
time; and their simultaneous departure on that day of jubilee
for another and a better world, was hailed by our nation as a
propitious sign, sent to us from Heaven.
3 Wandering the other day in the alcoves of the library I
. accidentally opened a volume containing the orations delivered
by many distinguished men on that solemn occasion, and I
noted some expressions of a few who now sit in this hail
■^ which are deep fraught with the then prevailing, I may say'
universal, feelfng. . "^ '
4 It is inquired by one, "Is this the effect of accident or
. blind chance, or has that God. who holds in his hand the des-
tiny of nations and of men, designed these things as an evi^
dence of the permanence and perpetuity of our institutions?"
5.^^ Another says, " Is it not stamped with the sedl of divin-
^^ ityr And a third, descanting on the prospects, bright and
^^^^^ glorious, which openiH-5S our beloved country, says "Au-
ijpicious omens cheer us."
I^vf X 6. Yet it would have required but a tinge of superstitious
goom to have drawn from that event darker forebodings of
.— ..men wao tu Cujiiu. In our primitive wilds, where the
ORATOKICAL.
395
order of n.itMro Is unbroken l.v «,o l,,n^ p
majestic .rocs ..rise, spread fo« ,, ," tl';;"" v"'""' -"'"«
-.o^i..es.,e»n.r:;:r:.::r^^^^
h»8:e, branchless trunks, mi^X^t f ° ^'">;™" "
eart,, w ence they sprang, prescient el^^'llr '" '""
the whirlwind at hand whinh cV n ^utuio, he forosoes
break its stro.,,ost:.l ^ ;' „t sTeZ:?""?' ' '"^ ^"™''
in the dust its tallest, proudes ads t t"? ' ""' '"""
..ikefLthct: s':;\^ir*d*^""™'--'' . ^
greedy whirlpool-tho all en!,,!^ '""'""• ""'^ «"' ^^"''^ii
power, that unbroken if 2^ 1 '^ "T '"'"' "^ '•■'<^<=°«™
prospJrous voyal flM .,"'™'''' '^^ "'"^ P"""" her
banner of ou7cZ,^ Z\ '""""" "*■ '™^ ' """^ "-t the
Win sti„ floarr:" .;Zh„r ::7,r- - - p-<".v
fanned by the breath off. '^ "^'"^^ "^ ''^''^^en,
K ever^ start \-'ir;;h::rr*^''^^^^^ '^"^ ""«"'• ^-<-
here shall have ceased n 1 ' ^'' ^^''^ "■""^' °^ "« "^^
nave ceased to gaze on its majestic fold« forever.
T. Ewwa
84. LIBERTY AND GREATNESS
probable that it will continue ,', '""° """' ■ ""^ '' ''
:« all past a,es, witlx™: sL:!^::^:;'' '"'^^'"
'■ ^^"^ '•""'"^ «^- •'<=- --"ited with the in^uence, „'
!l(,C
iUD
Ki unHiB
K
I Mm
alBB»
^" " w^^^^H^^H
'^Ka
M IffiHI
H
^^^^^^^^^1 '
896
THE SIXTH READER.
^A
liberty, that did not flourish like the spring ? What pooplo
has ever worshipped at her altars, without kindlipg with a
loftier spirit, and putting forth nobler energies ? V'H.^v.-i,
3. Where slie has ever acted, her deeds have been heroic.
Where she has ever spoken, her eloquence has been trluni-
phant and sublime.
, 4. We live under a form of government, and in a state of
ociety, to which the world has never yet exhibited a parallel.
Is it then nothing to be " free ? " How many nations, in tho
whole annals of human kind, have proved themselves worthy
of being so ? Is it nothing that we are Republicans ?
5. Were all men as enlightened, as brave, as proud as they
ought to be, would they suffer themselves to be insulted with
any other title ? Is it nothing that so many independent
sovereignties should be held together in such a confederacy
as ours ?
6. What does history teach us of the difficulty of instituting
and maintaining such a polity, and of the glory that ought
to be given to those who enjoy its advantages in so much
perfection, and on so grand a scale ?
1. Can any thing be more striking and sublime, than the
idea of an Imperial Republic, spreading over an extent of
territory, more immense than the empire of the Csesars, in
the accumulated conquests of a thousand years— without
prefects, proconsuls, or publicans— founded in the maxims of
common sense— employing within itself no arms but those of
reason— and known to its subjects only by the blessings it
bestows and perpetuates, yet capable of directing against a
foreign foe all the energies of a military despotism,— a Ee-
public, in which men are completely insignificant, and pin-
ciples and laws exercise, throughout its vast domain, a peace-
ful atd irresistible sway, blending, in one divine harmony,
such various habits and conflicting opinions, and mingling,
in our institutions, the light of philosophy with all that is
dazzling in the associations of heroic achievement, extenaed
domiuion, and formidable power ? Lsoabb.
ORATORICAL.
397
85. CONSTITUTIONAL CHANGES.
[No ii)oecho8 commanded creator atto.. fi,>„ i r.
rersally road at the poriod ofthoTr d 1 . '^"'''^ """ ^'"' '""'•° "'>'-
eccentric Virginia staLm n o w-J a S/ ';" Tr ""' ""^ '^'"'^"' ""'^
foundly verged in the politics ofTir "ebater, a ripe scliolar, pro-
With the hiHto^of other" Few spcMrir""'^'- "'"^ ^""-"'^'y ^-111-
master of all the beauty, st.cncth and In ""^' T """"^ "'"'^ thoroughly
Many of his speeches abound in sha^Jl"? '' *'° ''"^'"^'^ '^^'"^
a- a bright Toledo blade, his eatireta^unrveX la^rdl ' "' ""'°' '^^^""'^ !
than thf, rtate „f perp„t„al „„cortX ^ " ""
3. Sir, it is vain to denv if tJi«„
please about .he old Cons.Uu'ti LtlelCTi/ZtT"' "^^
5. I throw the challenge to all who hear me I sav thaf
»o'^ aad „,o paid ^z^^^tl:::. '"'' '" '^'^
aft.
999
THE SIXTH READER.
^^
iVAftAik^U
6. A w«tr order „f thiiigR jh cotnr The period has arrived
of living iy tn .'■ wits -of living hy comi -ting <lcbtH that
ono cannot puy— u.jd above all, of living by offict-liuntiiig.
1. Sir, what do we see ? Bankrupts— l)randcd banknipts-
givii)g great dinners— Mending their children to the most ex-
pensive schools— giving grand parties— and just as well n-
ceived as anybody in society.
8. I say, that in such a state of things the old Constitutioti
was too good for them ; they could not bear it. No, sir-
they could not bear a freehold suflVage and a property repre-
sentation.
9. I have always endeavored to do the people justice—but
I will not flatter them— I will not pander to their appetite for
change. I will do nothing +0 provide for change. I will not
I Tee to any rule of future apportionment, or to any provision
for future changes called amendments to the Constitution.
10. They who love change— who delight in public confusion
—who wish to feed the caldron, and make it bubble-may
vote if they please for future changes. But by what spell-
by what formula are you going to bind the people to all
future time?
Vt^^M^ 11. You may make what entiiiis upon parchment you
please. Give me a Constitution that will last for half a cen-
tury-that irt all I wish for. No Constitution that you can
make will last the one-half of half a century,
ivjlu 12. Sir, I will stake any thing short of my salvation, that
a those who are malcontent now, will be more inalcontcnt three
years hence than they are at this day. I have no favor for
this Constitution.
13. I shall vote against its adoption, and I shall advise ah
the people of my district to set their faces— ay— and their
shoulders agaiasi <. But if we are to have it, let us not
have It with its dc:», -7^,rra'^ in its very face, with the gar.
donic grin of deatb. apoa i.d countenar oe.
JoiiN Randolph of Roanoo,
t^oM'
k\v»-
|^^A^»^Ul^
rpflERE is a
•*• do not posi
valor which I ca
way of the wel
cannot, I have n
2. I cannot ij
vested, a power
my aggrandizem
onward march t(
enough. I am to
3. I would not,
lie down, and ph
country to prospe
widely different ]
private conduct a
4. Personal or
i'igl.'f^r ft.id noblei
i'Ua •;;; ' . volunta,
•'^"dions of the in
'mpel us to perfo
greatest courage
Want of courage.
5- But pride, va
'" private life, are
crimes, in the cor
victim of these pai
contemptible circle
ORATORICAL.
80. THE PATIIIOT'S COURAOE.
800
held the keys to tho hnart« of lit ,? "" ''•"''' '^"°^^'' ''"''• Ho
them with a skill attained hy ao Cher mn^uT."' i'"' '"""' "'" ^""''^ *^"'"-
loal efforts were delivered 1m fuvc of 2, ' f,"'"' "^ '"" "''^''-^t orator.
181:^. His styio of .,.,. ,,y ,,,^ ";';"'• ''"' "'" ^^•T with Great Britain, In
.-alned aweetne. .nd a wHJu SSrl::;^;::^;:^'- " ^ ^"'^ °'
THERE is a sort of courao-e wIhpI, t <• i .
do not p„,sc,,, a M,Z To v 'o , H '' "'"'''■" ''' '
valor which I cuu„„t covot I , ^'"''•' ""' "^'''"'- "
«y of the we, j:\Tippi ::r;:r^""'';''"" "■"
«-ot, I have „.,t the oo,.a/e rdo. ' "'"'*''■ ^"^ '
«• 1 cannot intcrnnsfi fiw. « . .
™-, apowere::r:a tt'';:::;; :,^r;ir^ '^!"•
■ny aggrandizemeut, but for ,„y couutiV 7 ^ " '"'
."ard „,aroh to groat,,,... a, d Ibr ' ' n° ' '" "'"■'"' ''"
e-ough. I am too cowardly for tl,:.' "" ■"" """'«"
ii/doVCai^i^U t';;; ■•- "- --c^- of such a tr„.t.
-r. t; pro,p7r;:^d tTp™ ^xrirr^ -^
wdeiy diflWent fro,„ that wWch a ma, , av 7 ? "•""«"
pnvate conduct and persoual reIatio„r ^ ^ '^ '" ''''
^ i*f r :ibi,';!::i:T? ■» '°'«">- <"•»"-' f^™ that
"" : voiun V TaX: t hire'"'" ''" ""'*' '° "f-
^--os of the im;uta«on Tf he 1, t offi''' *""'• ^'"''"'
»pel us to perform rash a, d iL h °"'°'- '°'"<'*™«
greatest courage to be abrt '"''""'"''•■""' »«««. It is the i.»Wt
«,t of courage "''' ""^ ""I'"'"''"" »f the '^^
r ^vj iiic, are vices wnifh rmif.it^ r ^i ,
"in-es, in the conduct of public ff^,' " T'^' "'
™t,m of these Das«,„„s ea,Lt J- , ''* °"f"rti.n.-,le
«temptible circle of his Z 1". "T" "'" ''"'^' P"'^-
oi ni8 own personal interests. All hia
400
THE SIXTH READER.
thoughts are witf.drawn from his country, and concentrated
on his consistency, his firmness, himself:
6. The high, the exalted, the sublimo emotions of a patriot.
**v«vr ism which, soaring towards heaven, rises far above all mean
low, or selfish thiugs, and is absorbed by one soul-transport'
ing thought of the good and the glory of one's country are
never felt m his impenetrable bosom.
1. That patriotism which, catching its inspirations from the
immortal God, and leaving at an immeasurable distance below
Utej^.c^-^ all lesser, grovelling, personal interests and feelings, animates
and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of devotiou
and of death itself-that is public virtue ; that is the nobl.st'
the sublimest of all public virtues 1 n
I
87. HONORABLE AMBITION.
[Extract from his speech in favor of compromiae.]
HAVE been accused of ambition in presenting this measure
—ambition— inordimte ambition. If I had thought of myself
only, I should have never brought it forward. I know well
the perils to which I expose myself; the risk of alienating
faithful and valued friends, with but little prospect of makinc
new ones, if any new ones couH compensate for the loss of
those we have long tried and loved ; and the honest miscon-
ception both of friends and foes.
2. Ambition f If I had listened to its soft and seducing
whispers ; if I had yielded myself to the dictates of a cold,
ealculating, and prudential policy, I would have stood still .
and unmoved. I might even have silently gazed on the raging
storm, enjoyed its loudest thunders, and left those who are
charged with the care of the vessel of State to conduct, it as
they could.
3. I have been, heretofore, often unjustly accused of ara-
, ^y. ^,'*^°°'. ^°^' grovelling souls, who are utterly incapable ot
X^ elevating' themselves to the higher and nobler duties of pure
patriotism, -
ends in vii
influence or
rule which t
4. I have
consign thai
h'sire for oi
fcut a prisoi
ccives his C(
and is cut ofl
of genuine f
5. I am n(
'of these Sta
expect to be.
confidence ai]
home to Ashh
6. I should
lawns, midst i
sincerity and
which I have
. T; Yes, T ha
humble instrui
divided peoph
a distracted 1
the glorious s
ternal people I
WHILE the
' " these ev(
nial, healthful (
tlio blood of ou
tcrs, !!!nf?trioi5B
centre of a moi
ORATORICAL.
401
influence o„7h rtl ,d'^ ir'T '' ''"'' ^™"""''
raie which the, ^e^C^Z:::;::'"' '" "^ '"^ ™""'
ocive/his cod hill". '""T™'''" """""'»■" """y -
.^."V ana t'l arhrrr aeX™r^!■^^
w ,c,, have not always found in .he wSf^f T^.fct r'^'
liivided people • onn„ Z. T P^^donco, to reconeile a
. di.t JteT aid- he Ilr^T""" ""^ '='™''°y '"
.ke gloHon, speelaoIeVa "f uttd':, "' ^'^'''^'''-^
temal people I ' ' P'^^P^^ous, and fra-
Clat.
"I.
. I
•
88. ASPIRATIONS FOR AMERICA.
«i»l, healthful clin.e tWs Old V ^ ^""™''' ""'^ ^e-
402
THE SIXTH READER.
U^ta
States garrisoned by freemen, girt round by the rising and
setting seas,— we are the most blessed of all people.
2. Let the Union be dissolved,— let that line be drawn,
where be drawn it must, and we are a border State : in tinw
. of peace, with no outlet to the ocean, the highway of nations,—
a miserable dependency ; in time of war, the battle-ground of
more than Indian warfare, of civil strife and indiscriminate
slaughter I
3. When, worse than Spanish provinces, we shall contend,
not for glory and renown, but, like the aborigines of old, for a
contemptible life and miserable subsistence I Let me not see
it ! Among those proud courts and lordly coteries of Europe's
pride, where, fifty years ago, we were regarded as petty prov-
inces, ui^nown to ears polite, let me go forth great in the
name o^n American citizen.
4. Let me point them to our statesmen and the laws and
governments of their creation ; the rapid growth of political
science ; the monuments of their fame, now the study of all
Europe. Let them look at our rapidly increasing and happy
population; see our canals, and turnpikes, and railroads,
stretching over more space than combined Britain and Eu'
rope have reached by the same means.
6. Let them send their philanthropists to learn of our peni-
tentiary systems, our schools, and our civil institutions.
Let them behold our skill in machinery, in steamboat and
ship-building,— hail the most gallant ship that breasts the
mountain wave, and she shall wave from her flagstaff the
stars and stripes.
6. These are the images which I cherish ; this the natm
which I honor ; and never will I throw one pebble in her
track, to jostle the footsteps of her glorious march I
C. M. Clat.
ORATORICAL.
403
89. THE EVILS OP WAR.
TT^AR, pestilence, and famine, by the common consent o
*▼ mankind, are the three greatest calamities which can
befall our species ; and war, as the most direful, justly stands
foremost and in front. Pestilence and famine, no doubt for
^ wise although inscrutable purposes, are inflictions of Provi-
dence, to which it is our duty, therefore, to bow with obe-
dience, humble submission, and resignation. Their duration is
not long, and their ravages are limited. They bring, indeed,
great affliction, while they last, but society soon recovers from'
•iheir effects.
2. War is the voluntary work of our own hands, and what-
«ver reproaches it may deserve, should be directed to our-
selves. When it breaks out, its duration is indefinite and
unknown,— its vicissitudes are hidden from our view. In the
sacrifice of human life, and in the waste of human treasure,—
in its losses and in its burdens,— it affects both belligerent ^-
nations, and its sad effects of mangled bodies, of death, Ind of '^
desolation, endure long after its thunders are hushed in peace. ^rJ^
^ 3. War unhinges society, disturbs its peaceful and regular cUvyvu^J
industry, and scatters poisonous seeds of disease and immo-
rality, which continue to germinate and diffuse their baneful /*.vw, .
influence long after it has ceased. Dazzling by its glitter, ttU^
pomp, and pageantry, it begets a spirit of wild adventure and
romantic enterprise, and often disqualifies those who embark
in it, after their return from the bloody fields of battle, for
engaging in the industrious and peaceful vocations of life.
4. History tells the mournful tale of conquering natunu
and conquerors. The three most celebrated conquerors, in the
civilized world, were Alexander, Csesar, and Napoleon. The
first, after ruining a largo portion of Asia, and sighing and
lamenting that there were no more worlds to subdue, met a
premature and ignoble death. His lieutenants quarrelled and
warred with each otlicr as to the spoils of his victories, and
finally lest them all.
iii
404:
THE SIXTH READER.
5. CsBsar, after conquering Gaul, returned with his trinni.
phant legions to Rome, passed the Rubicon, won the battle ai
Pharsalia, trampled upon the liberties of his country, and ex'
pired by the patriot hand of Brutus. But Rome ceased to be
free. War and conquest had enervated and corrupted the
masses. The spirit of true liberty was extinguished, and a
long line of emperors succeeded, some of whom were the mos"
execrable monsters that ever existed iu human form.
6. And Napoleon, that most extraordinary man, |^;rhaps, in
all history, after subjugating all Continental Euro^/e, occupy.
^ ing almost all its capitals,— serioualy threatening pi jud Albion
ilf>\f^\^ itself, — and decking tha brows of various members of his fam-
ily with crowns torn from the heads of other mon j,rchs, lived
to behold his own dear France itself in possession of his ene-
mies, was made himself a wretched captive, and, far removed
from country, family, and friends, breathed his last pa the dis-
tant and inhospitable rock of St. Helena.
t. The Alps and the Rhine had been claimed as the natural
boundaries of France, but even these could not be secured in
the treaties to which she was reduced to submit. Do you be-
lieve that the people of Macedon or Greece, of Rome, or ol
Prance, were benefited, individually or collectively, by the tri-
umphs of their captains ? Their sad lot was immense sacri-
fice of life, heavy and intolerable burdens, and the ultimate
loss of liberty itself. ^ Cla^
90. HOHENLINDEN.
^
[Hohenlinden, a German word meaning high Hme-treM, Is the name of a vil-
lage in Bavaria, near which the Austriana were defeated by the French, under
General Morean, in December, 1800, A heavy snow-storm had continued
through the night, and had hardly ceased when the roar of the cannons an«
Dounced the opening of the battle.]
ON Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ;
And dark as winter v/ag the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
OBATOBICAL. 4Q5
2. But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum boat, at dead 'of night,
Commaudidg fires of death, to light
The darkness of her scenery.
8. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed
Each horseman drew his battle4>l_ade, Utc
And furious every charger neighed"^ ^^
io join the dreadful revelry. »v^u^
4. Then shook the hills with thunder riven.
Then rushed the steed to battle driven. .1.^ .w<
And louder than the bolts of Heaven U,d^ ^'
tar flashed the red artillery. '
6. But redder yet that light shall glow
On Linden's hills of stained snow
And bloodier yet the torrent flow'
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
6. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, W^
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
Shout in their alphurous canopy.
t. The combat deejiens. On, ye brave
Who rush to glory, or the grave I '
Wave Munich! all thy banners wave
And charge with all thy chivalry |
8. Few, few shall part where many meet I
The snow shall be their winding-sheet. >v^
And every turf beneath ^heir feet ^ '
bhall be a soldier's sepulchre.
18*
406
THE SIXTH READER.
iJWiAly.
91. VALEDICTORY ADDRESS TO THE SENATE.
"pROM 1806, the period of my entrance upon this noble
J- theatre, with short intervals, to the present time, I have
been engaged in the public councils, at home or abroad. Of
the services rendered during that long and arduous period of
my life it does not become me to speak ; history, if she deign
to notice me, and posterity, if the recollection of my humble
actions shall be transmitted to posterity, are the best, the
truest, and the most impartial judges. When death has closed
the scene, their sentence will be pronounced, and to that I
commit myself.
2. My public conduct is a fair subject for the criticism and
judgment of my fellow-men ; but the motives by which I have
been prompted are known only to the great Searcher of the
human heart and to myself ; and I trust I may be pardoned
for repeating a declaration made some thirteen years ago,
that, whatever errors, and doubtless there have been many,'
may be discovered in a review of my public service, I can
with unshaken confidence appeal to that Divine Arbiter for
the truth of the declaration, that I have been influenced by
no impure purpose, no personal motive ; have sought no per-
sonal aggrandizement; but that, 'in all my public acts, I have
had a single eye directed, and a warm and devoted heart
dedicated to what, in my best judgment, I believed the true
interests, the honor, the union, and the happiness of my
country required.
3, During that long period, however, I have not escaped
the fate of other public men, nor failed to incur censure and
detraction of the bitterest, most unrelenting, and most malig-
nant character ; and, though not always insensible to the
pain it was meant to inflUct, I have borne it in general with
composure, and without disturbance, waiting as I have done,
in perfect and undoubting confidence, for the ultimate triumph
of justice and of truth, and in the entire persuasion that timo
would settle all things as they should be, and that whatevef
OnATOEICAt.
407
"ong „r ,„j„rt,ce I might expmi.nco at, the l,„,„ls of ,„■.„
He whom all hoar,, are „pe„ ami fully t,„,„,, ^, , , "' "'
the ...scrutable dispensation, of His providence rrtv In
J' , 'T ■ '™-"'"'"l«. »"■■«" "..^..stained. Everywhere
ho„,jh„„t the extent of this great continent, I have tad
„rd,al, warm-hearted, faithful, and devoted friends whlhave
known me, loved me, and appreciated my motives T 1 1,
.f language were capable of fully expressing my acknowl
° "'"'« ff 'k""- g-.ui„c, disinterested, and perseverTnJ
deht, and devoted attachment, the feeli,;gs and'se:!,; nt°s
of a heart orerflowng with never-ceasing gratitude If
owever,Ifail in suitable language toexpLfmyg titude
to them .,r all the kindness they have shown „,e, Jhft s 1 1 J
y, what «» I say at all con,ncns„rate with those eelin's
of grat.tnde w,th which I have been inspired by theTal
lamlrr '''"^''■''^''^•' -" --ant'l have been in thta
6. I emigrated from Virginia to the State of Kentucky now
nearly forty-five years ago; I went as an orphan boy „h; had
tyet a ta,„ed the age of majority , who had never ree g
..cd a father's smile, nor felt his warm caresses ; poor pennl
» w,tho«t the favor of the great, with an imperfeera^d
ocglected eduoat,on, hardly sntBcient for the ordinary business
.d common pursuits of life, but scarce had I set my foo
pen her generous soil, when I was embraced with pafenta
fondness, caressed as though I had been a favorite ch^M and
p. ro„,.ed with liberal and unbounded munificence '
6. From that period the highest honors of the State have
est 1 rj" M K ™' ' ''"''^ '" "^ "'""'■''■^ ^y "» the
feld rlnlin 1' ■""'''°''' "■" """^ '"'' impenetrable
BHield, lepelled the po.soned shafts that were aimed fo- -,,
te ruction, and vindicated my good name from every malfg!
«^.t and unfounded aspersion, I return with indescribabt
■ II fl!
408
THE SIXTH READER.
w
pleasure to linger awhile longer, and mingle with the warm,
hearted and whole-souled people of that State ; and when tlio
last scene shall forever close upon me, I hope that my eartlily
remains will be laid under her green sod with those of her
gallant and patriotic sons,
7. In the course of a long and arduous public service, espo
cially during the last eleven years in which I have held a sri
in the Senate, from the same ardor and enthusiasm of charuc
ter, I have no doubt, in the heat of debate, and in an honost
endeavor to maintain my opinions against adverse opinions
alike honestly entertained, as to the best course to be adopted
for the public welfare, I may have often inadvertently and
unintentionally, in moments of excited debate, made use of
language that has been offensive, and susceptible of injurious
interpretation towards my brotlier Senators.
8. If there be any here who retain wounded feelings of
injury or dissatisfaction, produced on such occasions, I b'g to
assure them that I now offer the most ample apology forluy
departure on my part from the established rules of parliament-
ary decorum and courtesy. On the other hand, I assure Sen-
ators, one and all, ^;ithout exception and without reserve,
that I retire from this chamber without carrying with me a
single feeling of resentment or dissatisfaction to the Senate
or any of its members.
9. I go from this place under the hope that we shall mutu-
ally consign to perpetual oblivion whatever personal collisions
may at any time unfortunately have occurred between us ; and
that our recollections shall dwell in future only on those' con-
flicts of mind with mind, those intellectual struggles, those
noble exhibitions of the powers of logic, argument and
eloquence, honorable to the Senate and to the nation, in wliich
each has sought and contended for what he deemed the best
mode of accomplishing one common object, the interest and
the best happiness of our beloved country. To these thrilling
^ .^ and delightful scenes it will be my pleasure and my pride to
^-.- look back, on my retirement, with unmeasured satisfaction.
OBiTOEIOAL.
409
10. In retiring, as I an, abo.t to do, forever from the Senate
.uffer me to cpres, my heartfelt, wishes that all the groat and
be fulfilled ; that the high destiny designed for it may he fnliv
answered ; and that it, dehberati.ns, now and hereafter m f
eventuate in securing the prosperity of our belo: dt in";
;:.::r:hr -'^"^ -^ '--' ^'"-'- -" ^^^-^-"^ --^
barrassment^ I w,sh I could take my leave of you under
.ore favorable auspices ; but, without meaning at this tTme
to say whether on any, or „„ whom reproaches for . le ™
cond,t,on of the country should fall, I appeal to the Senat^
an to the world to hear testimony to my earnest and co^
.nu d e.ert,ons to avert it, and to the truth that no blame
canjustly attach tome. " "o oiamo
J^^^V'" """*' '^"'""'" '''^''"'■"8« "f Heaven rest upon
e whole Senate and each member of it, and may the abor"
everyone^ redound to the benefit of the nation and the ad
r ToTb r; r/c-eiz:: r ^'- - ^^-
»s. Cheering and .rLfyir;:';':," 1: ^rrwIX-tS
And now, Mr. President and Senators, I bid vou all a L„
iMting, and a friendly farewell ^ °°«' *
CtAT.
92, FREEDOM OP DISCUSSION
J1HE gentleman has referred to the contest to be fought
I between hberty and power ; and I say. that if the conte
w speak of the administration in terms that wp h./i^.. tr---
wuhoui being denounced for it. ' '
18
(^
If I I
tl;
410
THE BIXTH EEADKR.
WW*>j
3. The Prrsidrnt of the U.iifed Statofi certainly den.anrJ.s a
degree of forbearance from his political <,pp..nentH ; but an, I
to bo tohJ that one can only allude to him in the humble lai,.
guaffo of a degraded Roman Senate, speaking of the emperor
with hia preetorian guards surrounding the capitol?
8. Am I to be told, when he came into power on principles
of reform, after " keeping the word of proniise to our ear. and
nreakmg it to our hope," am I to be told that I must close my
lips, or be denounced for want of decorum ? Am I to be told
when he promised to prevent official influence from interfering
with the frec^-nri of elections, that I must not speak of the
broken promise, under pain of the displeasure of his friends?
4. Am I to be told, when he came into power as a judicious
tariff man, after advocating his principles and aiding in hia
election, believing at the time in his integrity, though I did
not believe him possessed of intellectup/l qualifications.-am
I to be told, after pledges that have been violated, promises
that have been broken, and principles that have been set at
naught, that I must not speak of these things as they are, for
fear of being denounced for want of courtesy to the constituted
authorities ?
5. Why, to what pass are wo come I Are we to be gagged
—reduced to silence? If nothing else is left to us, the lib-
erty of speech is left ; and it fs our duty to cry aloud, and
spare not, when the undenied, admitted and declared fac't be-
fore us is, that these pledges have been made and have been
violated,
6. This administration is about to end ; and if gentlemen
can succeed in preventing us from complaining of being de-
ceived, if they can reduce us to abject slavery, they will also
have to expunge the history of the country, the President's
written and recorded communications to Congress, and the
most ardent professions of his friends, when fighting his bat-
tles, before they can conceal the recorded fact, that he hag
made pledges which he has violated, and promises which he
has repeatedly broken.
ORATOBICAR.
411
t. IfthcyHuccood in reducing ns to slavery, and close o„,
p aga.nst Bpoaking of the abn.es of tins ad.niniHtration,
l\v ' ' ; ""'" '^ '"■"''"^' tr-nnpot-tonguod, will pro-
clam those pledges, and the n.anner in which they have beeo
violated, to future generations I
8. Neither here nor elsewhere will I use language, with
regard to any gentleman, that may be considered ind:c:,ro„s ;
and the question not easily solved, is. how far shall we
restia.n ourselves n. expressing a just and necessary indigna-
•on ; ,nd whether the expression of such indignation may bo
C0n8aiv>."'fif1 « rtnr.ovf„-« <•. . „ ° •' ^"
ied a departure from courtesy ?
9. That indignation, that reprobation, I shall express on all
occasion. But those who have taken upon ,.LZ^^
gnardianship of the Grand Lama, who is surrounded by a
hght winch no one can approach ;_about whom no one i«
permitted to speak without censure.-have extended thi
guardianship to the presiding officer of this house
of L^nffi ''T T: "?' T'''"^ '"^ '^'^'' ^^ '^'' qualifications'
of that oflScer for the highest office in the government. Shall
we. sir because he is here as presiding officer of this body
keep silent when he is urged upon the people, who are goad/d
and driven to his support, lest we be guilty of an indecorum
gainst those who are the constituted authorities of the coun-
ty? Thank God, it is not my practice to "crook the pliant ^
hinges of the knee, that thrift may follow fawning 1" c^..va.^
11 This aggression of power upon our libertie«. sir, and
th.8 tame submission to aggression, forbode evil to ;his nation
Coming events cast their shadows before them," deepening
and darkening; and as the sun sets, the shadows lengthen
It may be the going down of the great luminary of the Re
pn .c a.d that we all shall be enveloped in one universa
political darkness I
W. C Pbsstoit.
liAj4A>JA«
419
THE SIXTH READER.
^
v^^
' 08. THE MEXICAN WAR.
[T. ConwiN, at the bar and In ConjjrcBS, cnniod the title of a popular arK"
eliKiucnt epottkor.]
T ASK, Mr. Proeidont, what liaH Mexico got from you f,,r
A parting with two-thirds of hor domain ? She has given you
ample redross for every injnry of which you have complained,
jj^-^ She has submitted to the award, of your conjuiissioners, and
up to the time of the rupture with Texas, faithfully paid it.
And for all that she has lost (not through or by you, but which
loss has been your g.iin) what requital do we, her strong, rich,
robust neighbor, make ?
2. Do we send our missionaries there, " to point the way to
heaven ?" Or do we send the schoolmasters to pour daylifrht
,nto her dark places, to aid her infant strength to conquer free-
dom, and reap the fruit of the independence herself alone had
won?
3. No, no ; none of this do we. But we send regiments,
^^i.;:«torm towns, and our colonels prate of liberty in the midst of
the solitudes their ravages have made. They proclaim the
empty forms of social compact to a people bleeding and maimed
with wounds received in defending their hearth -stones against
the invasion of these very men who shoot them down, and then
exhort them to be free. ^,'Ht
4. Your chaplain of the navy throw/ aside the New Testa
ment and seizes a bill of rights. He takes military possession
of some town in California, and instead of teaching the plan of
the atonement and the way of salvation to the poor, ignorant
Celt, he presents Colt's pistol to his ear, and calls on him to
take " trial by jury and habeas carpics," or nine bullets in his
head. Oh! Mr. President, are you not the lights of the earth,
if not its salt ?
. 5. What is the territory, Mr. President, which you propose
to wrest from Mexico ? It is consecrated to the heart of the
Mexican by many a well-fftught battle with his old Castilian
OHATORICAL.
413
Imre Toxas already ti.„v . ^^ ""'" "■'"' " ' Tl„.y
» «.ey wa„t? To what h.n r^ ' "'" ""'"''"• W''»' »'-«
of that mdepe„de„ce t ,th I b*^ T"'"""'''" " "■<="■"■■-'*
battle-fields Jhallhavja4t.fr, ''■" " "™' '"'''" "™* W
T- Sir had ,m„ „ r , '" "'y P'xwMsi,,,,?" T "^
Of Ma^L^rjerLt ::;*;; '"'"^^- «"' -^ "- p-P-e
there, ia there a man over tlnvl T """ ''""""•■<' '"maelf *
aot have been read; tJ 1 7 I"; , 'T """'' ""» "™>''
continent that would not have ,„„ a , ° "™'' ™ «•"'»
field but would have lee ' iL . ""f' """'' ^ '» »>'<■'•<' »
«f»la„«hteredAn,erieru'w I " ""-' """""'"' """™
of Hhert, .hoald have be™ t^^dlrrr'^' """"--"^'"^
T. COBwm
94. EETRIBXJTIVE JUSTICE
devotee of this divinity W. 7 ''^ 'P''^^"' ^as a
^■•« -p- It wasifd toT a'::;:::^! -' ^^ ^'"'^ -^
;-t always advance, and nev" ec * ITl"' '''' ''
and nnporial Rome believed Jf L . ^°*^ republican
% ; and for awhile it did sleJt7::Zn:^ "''' ''^•' ''^
2. Roman Terminus did a Ivance JjJa
he was curried from his homeT ih. TM ' ''^^^^ "^^'^"'^
-wi,.r;:;br5:;--t^-at^=
414
THE SIXTH READER.
3. The despised Gaul calls out to the contemned Goths, and
Attila, with his Huns, answers back the battle-shout to both,
The " blue-eyed nations of the north," in succession, are united,
pour their countless hosts of warriors upon Rome and Rome's
always advancing god, Terminus.
4. And now the battle-axe of the barbarian strikes down the
conquering eagle of Rome, Terminus at last recedes, slowly
at first, but finally he is driven to Rome, and from Rome .n
Byzantium. Whoever would know the further fate of this
Roman deity, may find ample gratification of his curiosity in
the 'uminous pages of Gibbon's " Decline and Pall.»»
5. Such will find that Rome thought as you now think, that
it was her destiny to conquer provinces and nations ; and no
doubt she sometimes said as you say, " I will conquer in
peace."
6. And where is she now, the mistress of the world ? The
spider weaves his web in her palaces, and the owl sings his
watch-song in her towers. Teutonic power now lords it over
the servile remnant — the miserable memento of old and once
omnipotent Rome.
7. Sad, very sad, are the lessons which time has written for
us. Through and in them all I see nothing but the inflexible
execution of that old law which ordains as eternal that cardinal
rule," Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods, nor anything
that is his."
8. Since I have lately heard so much about the dismember-
ment of Mexico, I have looked back to see how in the course
of events, which some call " Providence," it has fared with otlier
nations who engaged in this work of dismemberment.
9. I see that in the latter half of the eighteenth century thrct-
powerful nations — Russia, Austria, and Prussia— united in tha
dismemberment of Poland. They said, too, as you say, " It is
our destiny." They " wanted room." Doubtless each of them
thought, with iiis share of Poland his power was too strong ever
to fear invasion, or even insult.
10. One had his California, another his New Mexico, and a
OBAIORIOAL.
415
third hie Veracruz. Did they remain untouched and incapable
of harm ? Alas I no ; far, very far from it. Retributive justice
must fulfil Its destiny too.
11. A very few years pass off, and we hear of a new man a
Corsican heutenant, the self-named "armed soldier of democ
racy -Napoleon. He ravages Austria, covers her land with
blood, drives the northern C^sar from his capital, and sleepa
in h,8 palace. Austria may now remembc. :ow her power
rjaHlrS "''''''■ '^' ''' ""'' '-' ''-' --y '-^'^ ^-
V CoBWDf.
95. THE CAUSE OP THE UNION.
II °^ ""T"' "" *^° '^'^'S P'^'-^y- He epoke frequently upon 2>
CS r. f 'f ,''^' """^ ""'' '^''^''^ ^^-y^ ™-ded Xntion
ffom tlieir logical and eloquent style.]
'TTNIOxV for the sake of the Union;" "our country, our L^
^ whole country, and nothing but our country f these are tZ
the mottoes, old, stale, hackneyed, and threadbare, as they ^
may have seemed when employed as the watchwords of au
electioneering campaign, but clothed with a new power a new
sig-nificance, a new gloss, and a new glory, when uttered ag
the battle^ries of a nation struggling for existence ; these are
the only mottoes which can give a just and adequate ex-
piession to the cause in which you have enlisted
2. Sir, I thank Heaven that the trumpet has given no un-
c^rtam^sound while you have been preparing yourselves foi
J'JIV^ the Cause which has been solemnly proclaimed
by both branches of Congress, in resolutions passed at the
instance of those true-hearted sons of Tennessee and Ken-
"'eKy,--Juhi.son and Crittenden,-and which, I rejoice to
^member at this hour, received your own official Hanction a« •
senator of the United Statt^s.
is
I
B;i'ir'
416
THE SIXTH READER.
4. This is the Cause which has been recognized and avowed
by the President of the United States, with a frankness and a
fearlessness which have won the respect and admiration of
us all.
5. This is the Cause which has been so fervently com-
mended to us from the dying lips of a Douglas, and by the
matchless living voices of a Holt and an Everett.
6. And this, finally, is the Cause which has obliterated, as
no other cause could have done, all divisions and distinctions
of party, nationality, and creed ; which has appealed alike to
Kepublican, Democrat, and Union Whig, to native citizen and
adopted citizen ; and in which not the sons of Massachusetts,
or of New England, or of the North alone, not the dwellers oa
the Hudson, the Delaware, and the Susquehanna only, but so
many of those, also, on the Potomac and the Ohio, the Mississippi
and the Missouri, on all the lakes, and in all tiie vast Mesopo-
tamia of the mighty West, — yea, and strangers from beyond the
seas, Irish and Scotch, German, Italian and French, — the com-
mon emigrant, and those who have stood nearest to a throne,
— brave and devoted men from almost every nation under
heaven, — men who have measured the value of our country to
jfiuMW^ • the world by a nobler standard than the cotton crop, and who
realize that other and more momentous destinies are at stake
^#^tipon our struggle than such as can be wrought upon any
V^'
X^
^f>''
mere material looms and shuttles, — all, all are seen rallying
beneath a common flag, and exclaiming with one heart and
voice: "The American Union, it must be and shall be pre-
served 1"
1. And we owe it, sir, to the memory of our fathers, we owo
it to the hopes (four children, we owe it to the cause of free
institutions, and of good government of every sort throughout
the world, to make the effort, cost what it may of treasure or
of blood, and, with God's help, to accomplish the result.
8. I have said enough, HJid more than enough, to iBanifest
' the spirit in which this flag is now committed to your charge,
It is the national ensign, pure and simple, dearer to all out
ORATORICAL.
417
hearts at tVw moment, as we lift it to the gale, and see no
other siga of hope upon the storm-cloud which rolls and rattles
above it, save that which is reflected from its own radiant
hues.— dearer, a thousand-fold dearer to us all, than ever it
was before, while gilded by the sunshine of prosperity and
playing with the zephyrs of peace. It will speak for itseU
far more eloquently than I can speak for it.
9 Behold it 1 Listen to it ! Every star has a tongue •
every stripe is articulate. There is no language or speech _,
where their voices are not heard. There is magic in the web Ch.
of it. It has an answer for every question of duty. It has a
solution for every doubt and every perplexity. It has a word
of good cheer for every hour of gloom or of despondency.
10. Behold it 1 Listen to it I It speaks of earlier and of
later struggles. It speaks of victories, and sometimes of re-
verses, on the sea and on the land. It speaks of patriots and
heroes among the living and among the dead ; and of him, the
first and greatest of them all, around whose consecrated ashes
this unnaturt.' and abhorrent strife has so long been ragiii<.,_ '
" the abomination of desolation, standing where it ought iiot."
n. But, before all and above all other associations and
memories,— whether of glorious men, or glorious deeds, or
glorious places,— its voice is ever of Union and Liberty, of thtJ
Constitution and the Laws.
12. Behold it I Listen to it 1 Let it tell the story of its
birth to these gallant volunteers, as they march beneath its
folds by day, or repose beneath its sentinel-stars by night.
13. Let it recall to them the strange, eventful history of its
rise and progress ; let it rehearse to them the wondrous tale
uf its trials and its triumphs, in peace as well as in war ; and
whatever else may happen to it, or to them, it will never
be surrendered to rebels, never be ignominiously struck to
treason, nor ever be prostituted to any unworthy and ua
christian purpose of revenge, depredation, or rapine.
14. And may a merciful God cover the head of each one a/
its brave defenders in the hour of battle t r. c. Wintobof
IB*
K
Jy
418 THE SIXTH READEB.
96. DUTY OP AMERICAN CITIZENS.
[Douglas, ob a political speaker and pleader at the bar, possessed brilliant
natural powers, and had he lived, would undoubtedly have become one of the
most distinguished American orators.]
"DUT this is no time for a detail of causes. The conspiracy
A-' is now known. Armies have been raised, war is leviotl
to accomplish it. There are only two sides to the question.
Every man must be for the United States or against it.
There can be no neutrals in this war : only patriots or—
traitors.
2. We cannot close our eyes to the sad and solemn fact that
war does exist. The Government must be maintained, its
eneniios overthrown ; and the more stupendous our prepara.
tions the less the bloodshed, and the shorter the struggle
will be. But we must remember certain restraints on our
action, even in time of war. We are a Christian people, and
the vfni muet be prosecuted in a manner recognized by Chris-
tian nations.
S. We must not invade constitutional rights. The innocent
must not suffer, nor women and children be the victims.
Savages must not be let loose. But while I sanction no war
on the rights of others, I will implore my countrymen not to
lay down their arms until our own rights are recognized.
4. The Constitution and its guarantees are our birthri<^ht,
and I am ready to enforce that inalienable right to the last
extent. We cannot recognize secession. Recognize it once,
and you have not only dissolved government, but you have
destroyed social order, and upturned the foundations of so-
ciety. You have inaugurated anarchy in its worst form, and
will shortly experience all the horrors of the French Revo
lution.
6. Then we have a solemn duty,— to maintain the Govern-
ment. The greater our unanimity, the speedier the day of
t — ' "^^ P«v.juv^icen LO uVciuuiuc iiuin u nercc party
f H4«U*v 'c*^nteHt waged a few short months since. Yet these must be
ORATORICAL.
419
allayed. Let m lay aside all criminations and recriminations
as to the origin of these difficulties. When we shall have
again a coun^i-y, with the United States flag floating over it,
and respected on every inch of American soil,— it will then be
time enough to ask who and what brought all this upon us.
6. I have said more than I intended to say. It is a sa^i
task to discuss questions so fearful as civil WiV : but sad as it
is, bloody and disastrous as I expect the war will be, I express
it as my conviction, before God, that it is the duty of every
American citizen t.^ rally round the flag of his country.
DOUGUJU
I'J I ; i
97. THE FOUNDATION OF NATIONAL OHARACTBR.
[Edward Everett's style is^ch and glowing, but always under the coq.
trol of sound judgment and good tasf . He was in Congress twelve years
and in 1841 was appointed Minister to the Court of St. James. Mr. Everett
had one of the most cultivated minds of the day.]
TTOW is the spirit of a free people to be formed, and ani-
AA mated, and cheered, but out of the storehouse of it^.
historic recollections? Are we tu be eternally ringing the
chan|es upon Marathon and Thermopyles ; and going back to
read in obscure texts of Greek and Latin, of the ejfenjplara uf
patriotic virtue ?
2. I .^hank God that we can find them nearer homo, in our
own country, on our own soil ;— that strains of +he noblest ^ijt
Bectiment that ever swelled in the breast of man, are breath-
ing to us out c: every page of our country's history, in tlie
native eloquence of our mother-tongue,— that the colonial and
provincial councils of America exhibit to us models of the
Bpirits and character which gave Greece and Rome their
name and their praise among nations.
3. Here we ought to go for our instruction ;— the lesson is
plain, it is clear, it is applicable. Wheii wi go to ancient
uiBtory, we aie bewildered with the differeace of manners and
l4'
^MMg:i •'
i20
THE SIXTH READER.
institutions. We are wilJiug to pay our/ tribute of applause
to the memory of Leonidas, who fell nobly for his country in
the face of his foe,
4. But when we trace him to his home, we are confounded
at the reflection, that the same Spartan heroism, to which
he sacrificed himself at Thermopylae, would have led him to
tear his own child, if it had happened to be a sickly babe-
he very object for which all that is kind and good in man
rises up to plead.-from the bosom of its mother, and carry it
out to be eaten by the wolves of Taygetus.
5. We feel a glow of admiration at the heroism displayed at
Marathon, by the ten thousand champions of invaded Greece-
but we cannot forget that the tenth part of the number were'
slaves, unchained from the workshops and door-posts of their
masters, to go and fight the battles of freedom.
6. I do not mean that these examples are to destroy the
interest with which we read the history of ancient times-
they possibly increase that interest by the very contrast they
exhibit. But they do warn us, if we need the warning, to
seek our great practical lessons of patriotism at home ; out of
the exploits and sacrifices of which our own country is the
theatre ; out of the characters of our own fathers.
1. Them we know,— the high-souled, natural, unaffected, the
citizen heroep. We know what happy firesides they left for
the cheerless camp. We know with what pacific habits they
dared the perils of the field. There is no mystery, no romance,
no madness, under the name of chivalry, about them. It is all
resolute, manly resistance for conscience and liberty's sake,
not merely of an overwhelming power, but of all the force
of long-rooted habits and native love of order and peace.
8. Above all, their blood calls to us from the soil wh^ch we
tread ; it beats in our veins ; it cries to us not merely in the
thrilling words of one of the first victims in this cause—" My
sons, scorn to be slaves l"-but it cries with a still more
raoving eloquence— " My sons, forget not your fathers I"
, EVBBBTT.
PART IV.
MISCELLANEOUS.
1. ON BEING FOUND GUILTY OF HIGH TREASON
missed the opportunity of ^Sv.--^^-. °'™'* ^'^ arrested, having
danghterof cLan r^Sm r" Sf ^ ' f^^TT^ ^ ^^'^^ ^^'^^ °^ »
Sessions House, DubUn before J ord Vol "^ ^"^ ^'^^ ''•^^^^ ^* t^a
King. Bench, "and o^^:T:j'lTSyZ^^ ''^ ".'f ''^'^^"''^ *^«
Through his counsel, ho had ^ked at fhff • ^"i"^^^"*^^ «»e next day.
court .ig.t be I-iponedtn^ttt r^n U'^tS If^T'"^ ^'^^
granted. The Clerii of fho rr«,„„ j ., '""mmg. iina request was not
front of the Bench, Emmet ZlTtZL ^^ ^'''^'''^ ^° *^« '1«''»^ i°
execution, Wt WC f:?St:d: Toly ^hC^nTh^^^^^^^^ ^^^''
was passing out of his cell, on his wa^^ tL Li t '*"'°- ^ ^'
Who had become much attached o 7Z r ^T"^'' ^' ™°* ^'^^ ^""'^^y.
give his hand ; so he kisJed h poor^ow TlTf ?"^* "'^'^ '^''^
the mingled condescension and tendern^ of L act fin ' ,' °'''"'"™^ '^^
ot the youthful victim and dM «!♦ ' *^" senseless at the feet
•mong the living.] ' ""' '"^^^^ *"^ *^« l-«er was no longer
.hae Clt pronounce, »n<t„hich I n>„».
lif tnd w L ™ r '° '"^ "'"<^'' '■'"'^'^^'^ ™ ■"O"' than
», .nd whu=h you have Ubored-a, was nece,«>rily ,o„
7if ,. if- ' ^
,',.iJ
422
THE SIXTH READER.
}^'
•■i
?\liV
office in the present circumstances of this oppressed country—
to destroy.
2. I have much to say why my reputation should be rescued
(^/„y^ from the load of false accusation and calumny which has Leon
heaped upon it. I do not imagine that, seated where you are
your minds can be so free from impurity as to receive the least
impression from what I am going to utter. I have no hopu
that I can anchor my character in the breast of a court cou-
Btituted and trammelled as this is.
3. I only wish, and it is the utmost T expect, that your lord-
ships may suffer it to float down your memories, untainted by
the foul breath of prejudice, until it finds some more hospitable
harbor, to shelter it from the rude storm by which it is at pres-
ent buffeted.
4. Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty
by your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and meet the fate
that awaits me, without a murmur. But the sentence of the
law which delivers my body to the executioner will, through
the ministry of that law, labor, in its own vindication, to con-
sign my character to obloquy : for there must be guilt some-
where, — whether in the sentence of the court, or in the catas-
trophe, posterity must determine.
6. A man in my situation, my lords, has not only to encounter
the diflSculties of fortune, and the force of power over minds
which it has corrupted or subjugated, but the difficulties of
established prejudice : — the man dies, but his memory lives :
that mine may not perish, that it may live in the respect of my
countrymen, I seize upon this opportunity to vindicate myself
from some of the charges alleged against me.
6. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port,—
tvhen my shade shall have joined the bands of those martyred
heroes who have shed their blood, on the scaffold and in the
field, in defence of their country and of virtue, — this is my
hope: I wish that my memory and name may animate those
who survive me while I look down with o.omnlacpnf.Y nn fhfl
■destjuction of that perfidious Governmert which upholds its
Irt'
rOBENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
123
IZ ' ""'"'"'"^ "'■ ">" 'f™' m«h.-which displays its
power over ,„ao as over .I.e beasts of tl,e forest.-wSse s
ma .. upon h,s brother, and lifts „is hand, in .he nal rf
.°H:;,r: .r riel'rftr'o"^" -evesordTnbL' »"r-
;oov„„„,ent „bi„h^:7t;rtrbarr;'rt^:; -».
.he orphans and the tears of the widows which iUas Ide •
7. 1 appeal to the immaculate God — tn th. +v,
and by no other view than tha^ nf +ho "tteied,
eonntr, fro™ the ..perinhlar^^Urrrr sZ
has so long and too patiently travailed • and ,h.t r TJ ,
andassnredly hope that, wL and Ihi'. ita 'as 17.^°:^
£:i3^rt:itr-::r:^::trr •
aence. ihink not, my lords I snv iUi^ v ^u
tion of giving vou a tralit' ^ ' '' *^' ^""^ ^'^"fi^'^'
. S'^'og .vou a transitory uneasiness ; a man who r.Pvpr
yet raised his voice to assprt a M^ ,x,-ii \ ®^
..With posterity by as^i;:; '"JlZ"^^^^::
cra:t::rdZ;:or:i:rrhrifi\-'-
str:ir— ---^^^^^^
t He wa. kei i:rZ!l,r i!,"JT;"™»' "' • W' wild de^n...
t»«a.varr«nlabbIeD«,i'l»oJ:'';' "'''"•>■■''''>»''': " You proceed , . ,
..d circal..e opinio J ^a" Lt l^eZTr' "r" ""= °""'"^' '^'^^ '
•f miKhief." dangarona tendency, for the puipo»3i
J.
424
THE SIXTH READER.
Kiw^
9. Again 1 say, that what I have spoken was not intendod
for your lordships, wiiose situation I commise-ate rather thuu
envy ;— my expressions were for my countrymen ; if tliere ia
a true Irislimau present, let my last words cheer him in the
hour of his affliction — *
10. I have always understood it to be the duty of a judge,
when a prisoner has been convicted, to pronounce the sentence
Of the law ; I have also understood that judges eometimos
think it their duty to hear with patience, and to speak with
humanity ; to exhort the victim of the laws, and to offer, with
tender benignity, opinions of the motives by which he was ac-
tuated in the crime of which he had been adjudged guilty.
11. That a judge has thought it his duiy so to have duue,
I have no doubt ; but where is the boasted freedom of your
institutions,— where is the vaunted impartialit)', clen eucy, aud
mildness of your courts of justice,— if an unfortunate pric'oner
whom your policy, and not justice, is about to deliver into tue
hands of the executioner, is not suffered to explain hia motives
sincerely ajid truly, and to vindicate the principles by "hich
he was actuated?
12. My lords, it may be a part of the system of angry justice
to bow a man's mind, by humiliation, to the purposed ignominy
of the scaffold ;, but worse to me than the scaffold's shame, or
the scaffold's terrors, would be the shame of such foul and un-
founded imputations as have been laid against me in this
court. You, my lord, are a judge. I am the supposed culprit.
I am a man, — you are a man also. By a revolution of power,*
we migiit change places, though we never could change char-
tcters.
13. If I stand at the bar of this court, and dare not viiidi-
cate ray character, what a farce is your justice I If I stand at
this bar, and dare not vindicate my character, how dare you
calumniate it? Does the sentence of death", which your ua-
hallowed policy inflicts o n my body, also condemn my tongue
-Lord Noj-bury here interrupted the speaker with,—" What you liava
hitherto said confirms and justifiea the verdict of the jury."
to silence,
may abrid^
shall not i
your aspers
14. As a
the last us
^'liich is to
leave to the
perish. As
at one con
Searcher of
engaged in
purest motiA
15. My lo
lege of excu
an undeservi
charging hin
a paltry cor
then, insult r
of me why s
16. I knovi
ask the ques
ing I This, 1
the whole cej
pronounced a
Your lordship
to the sacrific
n. I am cl
emissary of P
wished to sell
end? Was tl
rORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
42d
to silence, and my reputation to reproach ? Yr.„r
-y abridge the period of n.y exi Jr: hut J il^ll .T^'
shall not forbear to vii,JiV..f ■ ' *^^"^*' ^ ,
14. As a mail to whom fame Is dearer th-ir, Kn. t ii l
tbo las. use „f that life in doin 'Yust „ <" '/ " """°
"hich is to live after me and „hlj .! ' reputation
leave to those I l,„„„r a Id ote Lt, "'"V"""^ ' """
PerM. As men, my lord we mu« "' '"•""'' '»
at one common' fU-lVaJu CT:;'' "" ""■■ f-'"-' <i^7.
Searcher of all hearU to ho; a coU ti f-'ur""" 'T ""
e«ff»ged in the most virtuous .T "" "'"' "''''
purest m„tives,-m.v eon:::;";;::::; 0^:'"""" "' "'»
.e;/of^':tf:;hL2;inT :;e:r:e? '-' -n
.0^ .e wh, s.ntene; fr^M^I t ^^j: — -
ing I This, no doubt, may be dlBDensed »,il, j 7
the whole ceremony of the trial sC . ' '" ""«^'
prououueed at the Castle be ,« Tour ""'"" ""' "'"''''^
Your lordships are but t e p £u of h-' 7" 'T!""'"'"-
.» the sacrifice ; b.t I insist^ t wht ^t' frlT^""'
III.
n. I am charged with being an emissary of France An
-.ssary of Prance 1-and for what end ? if is aU gTd that 1
^Was th^s the objec^- „,y ,,,bition ? and is this the
JWeLo^Norbuxy exclaimed: "^i^^^;X;7th:^,t;;;::f"^
t a.re Mr. Emn.et paused, and the Court desired lum to proceed.
426
THE SIXTH READER.
mode by which a tribunal of justice reconcihss contniflictions?
No 1 I am no cmiHsary. My ambition was to hold u place
among tho deliverers of my country, — not in power, nor in
proiit, but in the glory of the achievement.
18. Sell my country's independence to France 1 And foi
^hat ? For a change jf masters ? No ; but for ambition !
0, my country 1 was it personal ambition that could influence
nie ? Had it been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my
education and fortune, by the rank and consideration of my
family, have placed myself among the proudest of your op-
pressors ?
19. My country was my idol. To it I sacrificed every self-
ish, ever endearing sentiment ; and for it I now offer up my
life I God ! No 1 my lord ; I acted as an Irishman, de-
termined on delivering my country from the yoke of a foreigu
li*-'tciv*^ *nd unrelenting tyranny, and from the more galling yoke of a
domestic faction, its joint partner and perpetrator in the patri-
cide, whose reward is the ignominy of existing with an ex-
terior of splendor, and a consciousness of depravity. It was
the wish of my heart to extricate mj' country from this doubly
riveted despotism. I wished to place her independence be-
yond the reach of any power on earth. I wished to exalt her
to tliat proud station in the world which Providence had fitted
her to fill.
20. Connection with France was, indeed, intended ; but
only as far as mutual interest would sanction or require.
Were the French to assume any authority inconsistent with
the purest independence, it would b<j the signal for their de-
_«truction. We sought aid of them ; and we songht it, as wo
'had assurance we should obtain it, — as auxiliaries in war, and
allies in peace. Were the French to come as invaders or
enemies, uninvited by the wishes of the people, I should
oppose them to the utmost of my strength.
21. Yes, my countrymen, 1 would meet them on the beach,
with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other. 1 would
»neet them with all the destructive fury of war j and I would
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
437
animate you to irnmoluto them in their boatH, befure they had
contaminated the soil. If they Hiuiceeded in binding, and if
we W(!ie forced to retire before superior discipline, I would dis-
pute evt'ry inch of ground, raze every ImuHe, burn every blade Umu.
of grass before them, and the last iutrenchment of liberty
should Ihj my grave. What I could not do myself, if I should
fall, I would leave in charge to my countrymen to accomplish ;
because I should feel conscious that life, more than death, is
unprofitable, when a foreign nation holds my country in sub-
jection.
22. But it was not as an enemy that the succors of France
were to land, T looked, indeed, for the assistance of France ;
i)ut I wished to prove to France, and to the world, that Irisli-
men deserved to be assisted ; that they were indignant at
slavery, and ready to assert the independence and liberty of
their country I I wished to procure for my country the guai'^
antee which Washington procured for America — to procure an
aid which, by its example, would be as important an by ita
valor, — allies disciplined, gallant, pregnant -w cieueo and
experience ; who would preserve the good and polish the
rough points of our character; who would come to us as
strangers, and leave ua as friends, after sharing our perils and
elevating our destiny,
23. These were my objects ; not to receive new taskmas-
ters, but to expel old tyrants. These were my views, and
these only become Irishmen. It was for these ends I sought
aid from France, because France, even as an enotny, could not
be more implacable than the enemy already in the bosom of
my country.*
IV.
24. I have been charged with that importance, in the efforts
to emancipate my country, as to be considered the key-stone of
the combination of Irishmen, or, as your lordsliip expressed it,
*%«'
tu6 liiO diiu
1.1 1 i-
uiuuu ui
iii'c cOlispi
You do niu hu:;of
^Here he was interrupted by the Court.
428
THE SIXTH READER.
)fSfX
overmuch. You have given to the subaltern all the credit of
a superior. There are men engaged in this conspiracy who are
not only superior to me, but even to your own conceptions of
yourself, my lord ;— men, before the splendor of whose genius
and virtues I should bow with respectful deference, and who
would think themselves dishonored to be called your friends —
who would not disgrace themselves by shaking your blood*
stained hands.*
25. What, my lord, shall you tell me, on the passage to the
scaffold which that tyranny, of which you are only the inter-
mediate minister, has erected for ray murder, that I ara ac-
countable for all the blood that has been and will be shed, iu
this struggle of the oppressed against the oppressor? Shall
you tell me this, and must I be so very a slave as not to repel
it? I, who fear not to approach the Omnipotent Judge, to
answer for the conduct of my short life,— am I to be appalled
here, before a mere remnant of mortality ?— by you, too, who,
if it were possible to collect all the innocent blood that you
have caused to be shed, in your unhallowed ministry, in one
great reservoir, your lordship might swim in it If
26. Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with
dishonor. Let no man attaint my memory by believing that I
could have engaged in any cause but that of my country's
liberty and independence, or that I could have become the
pliant minion of power in the oppression and the miseries of
my countrymen. The proclamation of the Provisional Govern-
ment speaks for my views. No inference can be tortured from
it to countenance barbarity or debasement at home, or subjec-
tion, humiliation, or treachery from abroad. I would not have
submitted to a foreign oppressor, for the same reason that 1
would resist the domestic tyrant
27. In the dignity of freedom I would have fought upon the
threshold of my country, and its enemy should enter only by
passing over my lifeless corpse. And am I, who lived but for
^ * Here he was interrupted by Lord Norbury.
f Here the judge interfered.
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
429
of the grave, only to ^iv„ ' ''°"' '" ""'^ ''™'iage
cal™„y, and not snffc-red to r;^^ M V , ^^ .'T'''"' "'"•
28. If the spirits of th/ill ! ' ''°'' f"'''^ '*
c-noemsandcar s th„e It™" 'f """'^''""'^ '" «>«
transitory life, 0, ever dear a 7"' """ '° '*'''" '" ">i.
departed fa.he;, .o^k din t th ler:':™'^' ^r"" "' "^
your suffering son, and see f I h™ ^ ''™ *" """''°"' »'
deviated from tho^e princt I r ' '""' '" " """»™'.
which it was your care " ' tl , """"''^ '"' ""'""««■»
for which I a™'no„ ZZ ^ly'Z 7 """'"" ™"^- -^
hlo'df^'J^S'/rthTsT if'"?"" '"' "■" '-«- The
terrors which snrrln'r; „' v" ^r T' "^ *''^ ''''''"^' ■ '
and unruffled, through the chl nl^ l"™'?"^'' -™lv jvU
nohler purposes, but which you are bit d . ""?" '°^ ^
poses 80 grievous that they cry to h!» „ "■°^' ^°' P""
have but a few words moTetrafr ''"/"P^"-*' I
and silent grave. My kmn „f rV ""' ^°"'^ *" "^ ""W
My .ace is run. ThegUtTpeL ll' " °'"'^ «'i"S"-hed.
into its boson, I "^ ' "^ '''"'"«' ""^.-"nd I sink
30. I have but one reaneat in ..i. .
^■'^ world ;-it is the ohari ;: t^C 1 f""'"" '""'
my epitaph ; for, as no raan »h„ v " "° ■""» ""to
'indicate them, et not preinl'! "°""' "" """'^^ "»- «»
U.tthem and me repose fXZ^ Z'^l "'T' *™-
"'."'» "-inscribed, „„ti| „.,,„ times and „!' "^ """'
J"»t,ce, to my character. When mT "'' ° '' ™" """ *'
•".ong the nations of the eartt 7 ".'' ""' """• P''"^"
•»y epitapn be written , I lat^^:"' " ""' "" """'■-''''
■ RoBBKT Emmet.
»TT , ' "v/^nm- AMMET.
430
tHE SIXTH READEB.
2. AARON BURR.
[William Wirt was one of the most celebrated advocates and writers of
the nineteenth century ; he died in 1834 In the celebrated trial of Aaron
Burr, Mr. Wirt, who was retained as counsel for the State, displayed a degi'ea
of learninpf and eloquence which drew forth the encomiums of the judges, the
press and the people. This success established his reputation ; his arguments
were read With delight, and his name enrolled among the ablest men of tha
country. At the bar of the Supreme Court he found, says his biographer, the
highest forensic theatre in the country, and perhaps there never was one
in any country that presented a more splendid array of learning and talent
conjoined. In the causes, too, which it is the official duty of the Attorney-
General to prosecute or defend, the most conspicuous counsel of that bar are
commonly combined against him. In how many conflicts he sustained these
odds against him with a vigor always adequate to the occasion, is well linown.]
V
v*"
LET us put the case between Burr and Blannerhassett;
let us compare the two men, and settle this question
of precedence between them. Who Aaron Burr is, we have
seen in part already. I will add that, beginning his operations
in New York, he associated with him,men whose wealth is to
supply the necessary funds.
2. Possessed of the main-spring, his personal labor supplies
all the machinery. Parading the continent, from New York
^ to New Orleans, he draws into his plan, by rivery allurement
Mf[*^ v-which he can contrive, men of all ranks and descriptions. To
youthful ardor he presents danger and glory; to ambition,
ranks, and titles, and honors ; to avarice, the mines of Mexico.
To each person whom he addresses he presents the object
adopted to his taste.
3. His recruiting officers are appointed ; men are engaged
throughout the continent. Civil life is indeed quiet upon its
surface, but in its bosom this man has contrived to deposit the
materials which, with the slightest touch of his match, would
produce an explosion that must shake a continent. All this
his restless ambition has contrived, and in the autumn of 1806
he goes forth, for the last time, to apply his match. On this
occasion he meeto with Blaunerhassett. William Wihh
»0REK8IC AND JUDICIAL.
481
8. WHO IS BLANNERHASSETT?
[From a speech on the tHal of Aaron Burr J
tera, who fled from the storms of his own countrv fn fin^
»a„g.d Ireland": A Jl-:! ""' "° "'^" """"^ "-
America he retired even f.n.« iu , . arrival m
to the Ohio, he rears „poT i 1 "" "ft '"""'''" '■'^'"">
e^ry romantic e™beirh J„t „f fancv A rl;r " "''* . . ■
She„»t„„e ™i,ht have envied, UoilTlLj^TuZ t.' t
-ght have charmed Calypso and her nymphs, This /^
A 1-1 T-'";"'" '""■"'' ''"'""'' ''^ •^'="»"«' before him
ff^lr";: cTTrCiit; ?"" ^" "" -«■■•" '"~
.led delights arndhT'" '""°"°"' '"^ ** ""•'-
6. And to crown the enchantment of the scene « „ie i
.. said to be lovely even beyond her sex and Z '^ Zu " '
"ccomplishment that can re'nder it^Ss^fharbred^Z
w> h her love and made him the father of seve al chndren Th^
7^::^ convince yon that this is bnt a faiX^iot:™'
J. In the midst of all this peace, this innocent simplicity
P.rle tota hi TeTtrr' "' T" '° "'^"^ '*>'''
c» ueii. let the flowers do not withoi. „+ u-
e:!? -""""^ ""'"^"'"^ "•™"^^ t:'brro h ;:
nniortunate possessor warns him nf th^ ..„-^ .l.. .
npon him. "" " '""^ '"'" '""' '« *^^'"'"g
P
K'
tbMih
432
*HE SIXTH READER.
'J^
/
7. A stranger presents himseit*. Introduced to their civilities
by the high rar\k which he had lately held in his country, he
Boon finds his way to t» Mr hearts by the dignitj' and elegance
of his demeanor, the light and beauty of his conversation, and
the seductive and fascinating power of his address.
U^ L. The conquest was not difiicult. Innocence is ever simplft
*^^ ' and crednlous. Conscious of no design itself, it suspects noni;
in others. It wears no guard before its breast. Every door,
and portal, and avenue of the heart is thrown open, and all who
choose it, enter,
9. Such was the state of Eden when the serpent entered its
bowers. The prisoner in a more engaging form, winding
himself into the open and unpractised heart of the unfortunate
Blannerhassett, found but little diflSculty in changing the native
character of that heart and the objects of its affection.
10. By degrees he infuses into it the poison of his own ambi-
tion. He breathes into it the fire of his own courage ; a daring
and desperate thirst for glory, and ardor panting for great
enterprises — for all the storm, and bustle, and hurricane of
T life.
11. In a short time the whole man is changed, and everj
object of his former delight is relinquished. No more he enjoys
:\,Wr' the tranquil scene ; it has become flat and insipid to his taste,
tai^^'kj^.^ His books are abandoned ; his jetort and crucible are thrown
aside ; his shrubbery blooms and breathes its fragrance upon
the air in vain ; be likes it not.
12. His ear no longer drinks the rich melody of music ; it
longs for the trumpet's clangor and the cannon's roar. Even
thr, prattle of his babes, once so sweet, no longer affects hira
and the angel smile of his wife, which hitherto touched his
bosom with ecstasy so unspeakable, is now uuseen and unfclt.
13. Greater objects have taken possession of his soul. His
imagination has been dazzled by visions of diadems, of stars
and garters, and titles of nobility. He has been taught to burn
with restless emulation at the names of great heroes aiif)
conquerors.
„*.tU
fOBENSIO AND JODIOIAL
433
wuaerness , aod m a few months we find the beautiful and
.e™ wjth the t„„euta tha. ft Ite^'r ' """'^'"■^ "" ■
;rf-cr:rheLrrf'"^^^^^
William Wibt.
4. THE HABEAS CORPUS ACT.
-r^b^::;'7i^rb^^*^^^^^^^ ^%^^ ^gainat Mr. Justice John,
Barons, in S^CoukScf^uen] ^"°"'°'' '"' *"« °*^«'
with the liberty and well-being of every man w,-*>.,-n .k»
rU'ir*"' Empire ;-which being-decided on; wi;
«ay be a freeman ; which being decided the other, he m^i
19 , ««»
(
I
iiiu
he 1
434
THS SIXTH READSS.
bo a slave. T refer to the maintenance of that sacred security
for the freedom' of Englishmen — so justly called the secojid
Magna Charta of British liberty — the Habeas Corpus Act; the
spirit and letter of which is, that the party arrested shall,
without a moment's delay, be bailej}, if the offence be bail
able. (%.^.U»s
2. What was the occasion ot the law ? The arbitrary tran».
portation of the subject beyond the realm ; the base and ma-
lignant war which the odious and despicable minions of power
are forever i-eady to wage against all those who are honest
and bold enough to despise, to expose, and to resist them.
'/ 3. Such is the oscitancy of man, that he lies torpid for agen
under these aggressions, until, at last, some signal abuse—
the violation of Lucrece, the death cf Virginia, the oppression
of William Tell — shakes him frcn his slumber. For years
had those drunken gambols of power been played in England ;
|yJ|(ti^ for years had the waters of bitterness been rising to the brim;
I at last, a single drop caused them to overflow, — the oppression
of a single individual raised the people of England from
their sleep.
4. And what does that great statute do? It defines and
asserts the right, it points out the abuse ; and it endeavors to
secure the right, and to guard against the abuse, by giving re-
dress to the sufferer, and by punishing the offender. For years
had it been the practice to transport obnoxious persons out of
the realm into distant parts, under the pretext of punishmett,
^ or of safe custody. Well might they have been said to be sent
" to that undiscovered country from whose bourn n o traveller
returns ;" for of these wretched travellers how few ever did
return !
5. But of that flagrant abuse this statute has laid the axe to
the root. It prohibits the abuse ; it declares such detention
or removal illegal ; it gives an action against all persons con-
cerned in the offence, by contriving, writing, signing, counte^
sisfninCj such warrant or advisino" or assistincr therein.
6. Are bulwarks like these ever constructed to ''epel th*
rOEKBSIO AND JUDICIAL. 434
Incursions „f a contemptible enemy? Was it a trivial a„d
ord nary occasion which raised this storm of indignationt t «
Parhamcnt of that day? Is the ocean ever lashed by h
tempest, to waft a feather, or to drown a fly? By this l^t
you ave a solemn, legislative declaration, ..that i7is iLt
pat.ble w.th liberty to send any subject ont of the reZ
n'tdirlT"' ^^'-T' -PP«<' - «"eged t' be co::
nu ted n a fore.j^n jurisdiction, except that crime be capital.»
7. S.^h were the bulwarks which our ancestors placed
abo.t the sacred temple of liberty_s„„h the ramparts by wW h
tbey sought to bar out the ever-toiling ocean „f arbftrary
power; and thought (generous credulityl) that they h"d
barred ,t out from the.r posterity forever. Little did they
tesee the future race of vermin that would „,.k the,> way
toough those mounds, and let back the inundation I ^
CUB&UI.
*A.»->u»"Vi^
6. CURRAN'S APPEAL T) LORD AVONMORE.
J AM not ignorant, my lords, that the extraordinary con-
«t;"ctio„ of law against which I contend,has received the
Banct>o„ of another court, nor of the surprise'and dis^nl/wUh
wbch It sniote upon the general heart of the bar. I an/a^J^ e.J^
uTi n l' h n ""'/""^ ''"""" ' ^"^ ' ^--^« - -hat con.
fusion I shall hang down my head, when lam told it.
.hi . . n t ' *''°' *^" <^«°«»l*tory hope, that I shall be
able tell hem that I had an old and learned friend, whom i '
wou d put above all the sweepings of their hall, who vas oTa
.fferent opinion ; who had derived his ideas of civil libe ty
dl vTfl '""'^'"" '' ^*'^"« ^'' ^' ^-^5 -ho had
fed the youthful vigor of his studious mind with th^ theoretic
:!:.!::' J f^' !^!^* *^-^y -*« t^e qmck and exquisite
ti^eir Zst m "7"' ""'' '^ ^°°*^°^P'-ting the practice of
their most illustrious examples.-by dwelling on the sweo*
li'i ;:•;;.
jUHill,')
' a^^^^^l
JHB^Ip'h '^■^■^^^^H
flblHl
hMH
H
436
THE SIXTH READER.
\'
Bouled piety of Cimon, on the anticipated Christianity of
Socrates, on the galhint and pathetic patriotism of Epaminr.n-
das, on that pure austerity of Fabricius, whom to move from
his integrity would iiave beou more difficult than to have
pushed the sun from his course.
3. I would add, that if he had seemed to hesitate, it was
but for a moment; that his hesitation was like the passing
cloud that floats across the morning sun, and hides it from
the view, and does so for a moment hide it, by in\ olving the
spectator, without even approaching the face of the luminary.
4. And this soothing hope I draw from the dearest and
tenderest recollections of my life ; from the remembrance of
those attic nights and those refections of the gods which
we have partaken.with those admired, and respected, and be-
loved companions, who have gone before us,— over whose
ashes the most precious tears of Ireland have been shed *
5. Yes, my good lord, I see you do not forget them ; I see
iheir sacred forms passing in sad review before your memory ;
I see your pained and softened fancy recalling those happy
meetings, v;here the innocent enjoyment of social mirth, be-
came expanded into the nobler warmth of social virtue, and
the horizon of the board became enlarged into the horizen of
man ; where the swelling heart conceived and communicated
the pure and generous purpose ; where my slenderer and
\,»pjLw* younger taper imbibed its borrowed li ht from the more ma-
\ tured and redundant fountain of ; jurs. Yes, my lord, we can
remember those nights, without any other regret than that
they can never more return ; for,
"We Bpent them not in toyfi. or luat, or wine;
But search of deep philosophy.
Wit, eloquence, and poesy ;
Arts which I loved, for they, my friend, were thine.'
CUBBAN.
•Here, according to the original report, Lord Avonmore could no*
l^fcun from Dursimg laio luarB. m iiib miuni; v^i -L^urr..!! ^ •f-j... — -,-
ment, "this most beautiful epieodo," says Charles PLiUips, "bloomed
> J
FOBEN3I0 AND JODI0IAI,r
487
.. GREAT M.NM IN THEm RELATIONS TO CHRISTIANITT
-, «... =0 ... ... „i u.;;':;:,r..:zrLrr :z:? *"
«n w^^h h 1 ^' '" '■"■'' *""^ '■'» shallowness fillo,)
. w«. .pea. pS, r tX?° '^ '"" ""•'■"' "" '""'
forthtriTr «"*««■ '-N.w.„„, whose ™iad b„«.
twns ,— Newton, whose science was trutli «n,l .1,. c !
tions of whose knowledge of it w!. ph Lp", ''' „ "^s:
s.onary and arrogant presnmp,i„„s which J 'oClZ
- .rar;rrtr=:j;^T^r;^^^^^^^
3. But this extraordinary man, in the mighty reach of hi«
rte Td t^'' ''''''-' ^''' ^ n.inuter'i„vesSiltf
e created things on this earth might have taught him o
' irr B , ' ^TT '^'^'' ''^''' «^^" be'aid" "'the
'ike a green spot amid the desert Mr rn™.„ + i^ , . ~
S.V. Uac fc, . rental of MenMUp, which wa. not .«ain int^pS^
VUHHt
n^i
438
THE BIXTH READER.
matter, even to the brute inanimate substances which the
foot treads on? Such a man may be supposed to have been
equally qualified, with Mr. Paine, to look up through nature
to nature's God ; yet the result of all his contemplation was
the most confirmed and devout belief in all which the other
'k^ holds in contempt, as despicable and drii4i"f? superstition.
•^^ 4. But this err r might, perhaps, arise from u want of due
attention to the foundations of human judgment, and the
structure of that understanding which God has given us for
the investigation of truth. Let that question be answered
by Mr. Locke, who was, to the highest pitch of devotion and
adoration, a Christian ;— Mr. Locke, whose office was to
detect the errors , of thinking, by going up to the fountains
of thought, and to direct into the proper track of reasoning
the devious mind of man, by showing him its whole process,
from the first perceptions of sense to the last conclusioDs
of ratiocination, putting a rein upon false opinions by practi-
cal rules for the conduct of human judgment. But these
men were only deep thinkers, and lived in their closets, un-
accustomed to the traffic of the world, and to the laws which
practically regulate mankind.
5. Gentlemen, in the place where we now sit to administer
the justice of this great country, above a century ago, the
never-to-be-forgotten Sir Matthew Hale presided, whose faith
in Christianity is an exalted commentary upon its truth and
reason, and whose life was a glorious example of its fruits
in man, administering human justice with wisdom and purity,
drawn from the pure fountain of the Christian dispensation,
which has been, and will be, in all ages, a subject of the
highest reverence and admiration. But it is said by the
author that the Christian fable is but the tale of the more
ancient superstitions of the world, and may be easily de.
tected by a proper understanding of tfie mythologies of the
fleathens.
6. Did Milton understand those mythuiugles ? Was he less
versed than Mr. Paine in the superstitions of the world f
FOBBNSIC AND JUDICIAL.
froo. the store, of a r::n,er:Hr:, UhL"""'' "'^"'/°"''
beyond „rd,-„„y .at.eTo„t '?;;-;"; i:'''''^r
Author for the advano,™„t and dtX ot Z """,?
.hongh divided by distant ages, and by'c 1 n! on '" l^
dutingniehing them from one .no her, yet ilt ' IT "■''
.one a„b,i.e ohorns to ee.ebrate th/l " ^ChH ^a^'
and laying npon its holy altare the never-failin,. „^ ^J
tlioir immortal wisdom. * ofibnngs of
EuKnnL
7- Omj,T CASNOT KEEP ITS OWN SECBBT.
nouse, and m his own bed, is made the victim of »
ate er.y mnrder, for mere pay. The fatal blow s giv n I •.
and the victim passes, without a strngrfo or a mn.i„f f
^ repose of sleep to the repose of d^!th It 7T^^
tZT'^UerZ'V'"' ""*• ""' -P— «.e-i:tru.„^
We" It,W °{ '*• ™'' ''^'"■•'^'■" '"at it beats „, 1^^
loDger I It ,8 accomplished. The deed is done He retreats
:::r ^T'^ '° "^ "'""o-' "-- -' tn-ng , r r re-
came .„, and escapes. He has done the murder ;_no eye has
■een h™,_„o ear has heard him. The s^ is Hs ownfla:
2. Ah ! o^entlpmAn +l»o* „ j ,- , , .
to/.r«+ 'i. " ';: — ' ""'"' "^== * ureadfui mistake. Such a
"".ret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of G^ ha.
M
'lil-
440
Nv^
THE RIXTH READER.
neither nook nor corner where the guilty can bestow it, and
Bay it is safe. Not to speak of Uiat eye which glancoa
through all di> niaes, and beholds every thing as in the splen-
dor of noon, such HLcrcts of guilt are never safe from detec-
tion, even by men. True it is, generally speaking, that " mur-
der will out." True it is, that Providence hath so ordained,
ftnd doth 80 govern things, that those who break the great
.aw of Heaven, by shedding man's blood, seldom succeed in
avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so ranch
attention as this, discovery must come, and will come, sooner
or later
3. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore every man,
every thing, every circumstance, connected with the time and
place; a thousand ears catch every whisper; a thousand
excited minds intensely dwell on the scene, shedding all their
light, and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a
blaze of discovery.
4. Meantime, the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret
It is false to itself ; or, rather, it feels an irresistible impulse
of conscience to be true to itself It labors under its guilty
possession, and knows not what to do with it. The humao
heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant.
It finds itself preyed on by a torment, which it dares not ac-
knowledge to God nor man. A vulture is devouring it, and
it can ask no sympathy or assistance, either from Heaven or
earth.
6. The secret which the murderer possesses soon comes to
possess him ; and, like the evil spirits of which we read, it
overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels
t beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding
disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face,
reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the vt;ry
silence of his thoughts. It has become his master. It be-
trays his discretion, it breaks down his courage, it conquers
his prudence.
' 6. When suspicions, from without, begin to embarrass him,
Uv
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL. 441
•nd the .^et of circum«tance to entangle him, the fatal secret
Btrugg OS. w.th still greater violence, to burst forth. It mul
be confessed ;-it u,Ul be confessed ;-thero is no refuge from
confession but suicide-and suicide is confession I .
Damibl Wsbstui
8. AN APPEAL TO THE JURY. (
[Phillu'b is one of the most brlUlunt orators of the ag«i
QH I gentlemen, am Uhis day,only the counsel of m . c' entf
^ Ao,no; I am the advocate of humanity-of yonrh '•>..
yonr homes, your wives, your families, your little childre . I
am glad that this case exhibits such atrocity; unmarked as it is
by any m.t.gatory feature, it may stop the frightful advance of
th,scalam.ly; ,twill be met now, and marked with vengeance.
2 If .t be not, farewell to the virtues of your country; farewell
to all confidence between man and man ; farewell to that unsuspi-
cous and reciprocal tenderness without which marriage is but a
conseci-ated curse. If oaths are to be violated, laws disregarded
r.ends ip betrayed, humility trampled, nationul and individual'
Lonor stained, and if a jury of fathers and husbands will give
«uch miscreancy a passport to their homes, and wives, and
daughters, farewell to all that yet remains of Ireland I
3. But I will not cast such a doubt upon the character of
ny country. Agawist the sneer of the foe and the skepticism of ^^^^
tha no perhdy could barter, and no bribery can purchase; tha ^^
^nh a Roman usage, a^ce embellish and consecrate house-' -*/tU
holds, giving to the society of the hearth all the punty of the ^
si l7to b f ' T""^ '"^' '° '^' P^'^^^ ^"^ *h« ^«"age, are H-w^
8t I to be found scattered over this land-the relic of wlu.; she
stately, and the magnificent memorials that, rearing heir 'ji^^.
2-ty amidst surrounding ruins, serve at once as the lai - ^
Uldl kS Or liannr't r^A ^1...... . . i ,> . .
B./bc'erocCd."""""^';'""' ■"'""'"* "y ""-*""« ft"""
I9«
^43
THE SIXTH READER.
4. Preserve tbose virtues with a vestal fidelity ; mark this
day, by your verdict, j^our horror of their profanation ; and
believe me, when the hand which records that verdict shall be
dust, and the tongue which asks it traceless in the grave, many
a happy home will bless its consequences, and many a mother
teach her little child to hate the impious treason of adultery.
Phillips.
I'v. "M>-.
9. IRELAND.
DO not despair of my poor old country, her peace, her lib-
erty, her glory. For that country I can do no more than
I Ixr^VM.'w bid her hope. To lift this island up, to make her a benefactor
instead of being tfie meanest beggar in the world, to restore
to her her native powers and her ancient constitution, this has
been my ambition, and this ambition has been my crime.
2. Judged by the law of England, I know this crime entails
the penalty of death, but the history of Ireland explains this
crime, and justifies it. Judged by that history I am no crimi-
nal ; you are no criminal ; I deserve no punishment ; we deserve
no punishment. Judged by that history, the treason of which I
stand convicted loses all its guilt, is sanctified as a duty, will
be ennobled as a sacrifice.
3. With these sentiments, my lord, I await the sentence of
the court, having done what I felt to be my duty, having spoken
what I felt to be the truth, as I have done on every other ucca-
sion of my short career. I now bid farewell to tho country of
my birth, my passion and my death — the country whose mis-
fortunes have invoked my sympathieis, whose factions I have
sought to still, whose intellect I have prompted to a lofty.aim,
whose freedom has been my fatal dream.
4. I offer to that country as a proof of the love I bear her,
and the sincerity with which I thonght and spoke and strug-
gled for her freedom, the life of a young heart ; and with that
life, all, the hopeo, ths uoaurH, the cudearirouts of an houOfabi6
home.
oW»^
'0EBM8I0 AND JDDIOIAl. 443
6. PrououDoe, then, my lords, the seuteBcc which the law
d.reet8, and I will be prepared to hear it. I truat I shalfJI
prepared to meet ita execution. I hope to be able, with a p„™
heart and a perfect composure, to appear before a kigher trZ
of ttil M T ' '""«" "' """'*' 8°'"'--. '' well al
of ja«.ce, w II preside, and where, my lords, many, many of the
judgments of this world wiU be reversed. j p „
10. ADHEEBAI, AOAINST JTOUBTHA
■pATHERSl it is known to you, that King Jficipsa, my
A father, on h,s death-bed, left in charge to J„<n,rtha Z
adopted »on, conjointly with my unfortunate brothrH eL
rf thX '."" t v"" "' "'' "^ """y. *« admi,HsS
ate and the people of Rome as proprietors of it. He chartd
us to use our best endeavors to be serviceable to the S
eommon.vealth ; assuring „s, that your protection would pr"ve
a defence agamst all eneu.ies ; and would be instead of armT
fortifications, and treasures. ■"■mies,
!,„!; ,™'° i""^ '"'''*"■ *°^ ' "''' ♦'■inking of nothing but
wealth, procured the murder of my unfortunate brother • and
: rrinTe rfrot tr 't r'™ ""'-"''■ "■°»^" ^' -
f«tl,«, u • '. ^ grandfather Maesinissa, and mv
father Micipsa, the friendship and alliance of the Romans ^
eircullnr."'"*'''",'* ''^'"^' "^ ^'""'•'y- '" "-y -"'t'-sful
SC^t',r "'""""^ '"""^"i ""' "'y "-W-tunes are
be ghtened by the consideration that I find myself obliged 'o
... .., not tor any I nave been able to render vou in
n own person. Jugurtha has put it out of s.j poZZZ
Mm'
444
THE SIXTH READER.
'^tvdk
serve any thing at your hands ; and has forced me to be bur
densome, before t could be useful to you.
4. And yet, if I had no plea, but my undeserved misery — a
jnce powerful prince, the descendant of a race of illustrious
monarchs, now, without any fault of my own, destitute of
every support, and reduced to the necessity of begging for-
ign assistance, against an enemy who has seized my throne
and my kingdom, — if my unequalled distresses were all I had
to plead, — it would become the greatness of the Roman cora«
mon wealth, to protect the injured, and to .check the triumph
of daring wickedness over helpless innocence.
6. But to provoke your resentment to the utmost, Jugurtha
has driven me from the very dominions which the Senate and
people of Rome gave to my ancestors ; and from which my
grandfather, and my father, under your Himbrage, expelled
Syphax and the Carthaginians.
6. Thus, fathers, your kindness to our family is defeated ;
and Jugurtha, in injuring me, throws contempt upon you. Oh
wretched prince 1 Oh cruel reverse of fortune ! Oh father
Micipsa I Is this the consequence of thy generosity : that he
whom thy goodness raised to an equality with thy own chil-
dren, should be the murderer of thy children ? Must, then, the
royal house of Numidia always be a scene of havoc and
blood?
T. While Carthage remained, we suffered, as was to be ex-
pected, all sorts of hardships from their hostile attacks ; our
enemy near ; our only powerful ally, the Roman common-
wealth, at a distance. When that scourge of Africa was no
more, we congratulated ourseh . s on the prospect of estab-
lished peace. But, instead of peace, behold the kingdom of
Numidia, drenched with royal blood 1 and the only surviving
son of its late king, flying from an adopted murderer, and
seeking that safety in foreign countries which he cannot com-
mand in his own kingdom.
a^ Whither Oh! whither shall I fl-t^? If I return to the
royal palace of my ancestors, my father's throne is seized by
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL. 445
the murderer of my brother. What can I there expect, hntJ^-
that Jugurtha should hasten to imbrue, in my blood, those^^^n^
hands which are now reeking with my brother's? If I were
to fly for refuge, or for assistance, to any other court, from
what pnnce can I hope for protection, if the Roman common-
wealth g,ve me up? From my o^n family or friends I have
no expectations.
9. My royal father is no more. He is beyond the reach of
violence^ and out of hearing of the complaints of his unhappy
son. Were my brother alive, our mutual sympathy would be
some alleviation. But he is hurried out of life, in his early
youth, by the very hapd which should have been the last to
mjure any of the royal family of Numidia. The bloody
Jugurtha has butchered all whom he suspected to be in my
mterest. Some have been destroyed by the lingering torment
of the cross. Others have been given a pray to wild beasts ;
and their anguish made the sport of men more cruel than
wild beasts. If there be any yet alive, they are shut up m «
dungeons, there to drag out,a life more intolerable than death Uv.m
itself. ^
10. Look down, illustrious senators of Rome ! from that
height of power to which you are raised, on the unexampled
distresses of a prince, who is, by the cruelty of a wicked in-
truder, become an outcast from all mankind. Let not the
crafty asinuations of him^who returns murder for adoption
prejudice your judgment. Do not listen to the wretch who '
has butcliered the son and relations of a king, who gave him
power to sit on the same throne with his own sons.
11. I have been informed that he labors by his emissaries to
prevent your determining any thing against him in his ab-
sence ; pretending that I magnify my distiess, and might, for
him, have staid in peace in my own kingdom. But if ever
the time comes, when the due vengeance from above shall
overtake him, he will then dissemble as I do. Then he who.
fiovv hardened in wickedness, triumphs over those whom hia
violence laid low, will, in his turn, feel distress, and suffer for
'iiiii'i'
M6
THE SIXTH READER.
rj^
\¥^
kF
his impious ingratitude to my father, and his blood-thirsty
cruelty to my brother.
12. Oh murdered, butchered brother ! Oh dearest to my
heart, — now gone forever from my sight 1 But why should I
lament his death? He is, indeed, deprived of the blessed
light of heaven, of life, and kingdom, at once, by the very
person who ought to have beeu the first to hazard his own life
in defence of any one of Micipsa's family. But, as things are,
my brother is not so much deprived of these comforts, as de<
livered from terror, from flight, from exile, and the endless
train of miseries which render life to me a burden. Vov
13. He lies full low, gored with wounds, and festering in
his own blood. But he lies in peace. He feels none of the
miseries which rend my soul with agony and distraction,
while I am set up a spectacle to all mankind, of the uncer-
tainty of human affairs. So far from having it in my power
to punish his murderer, I am not master of the means of secur-
ing my own life. So far from being in a condition to def .nd
my kingdom from the violence of the usurper, I am obliged to
apply for foreign protection for my own person.
14. Fathers! S«jnators of Romel the arbiters of nations!
to you I fly for refuge from the murderous fury of Jugurtha.
By your affection for your children ; by your love for your
country ; by your own virtues ; by the majesty of the Koraan
commonwealth : by all that is sacred, and all that is dear to
you, — deliver a wre+ched prince from undeserved, unprovoked
injury ; and save the kingdom of Numidia, which is your own
property, from being the prey of violence, usurpation, and
cruelty Saixubi.
H. ALABIC THE VISIGOTH.
[The Visigoths were a race of barbariana occupying Middle Europe, who
made war upon the Roman Emperor Arcadiaa, ravaging Greece and Italy.
XUCir icatici, .n^aiiv, l;uua^c•■i mat rruci
'6 h:
ts iivnvn ■
the
ergrs^
"Be bei4«ged and plundered Rome, a. d 400. Afterward*, feeling hie end tp*
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
447
^re toifdviS . ""^ '"*^'^* *^° '°*°"^^ *" ^*« ^«d. Mr. Everett h-
maae tbis dying injunction the eubject of his flue verses.]
WHEN I am dead, no pageant train ^,^^^,
bhall waste their sorrows at my bier,
Nor worthless pomp of homage vain
Stain it with hypocritic tear; .«,v«JiW
For I will die as I did live,
Nor take the boon I cannot' give.
2. Ye shall not raise a marble bust
Upon the spot where I repose ;
Ye shall not fawn before my dust
In JioUow circumstance of woes :
- Not sculptured clay, with Iving breath,
Insult the clay that mouldlTTeneath.
8. Ye shall not pile, with servile toil,
Your monuments upon my breast;
Nor yet^vsrithin the common soil 5
Lay down the wreck of power to rest;
Where man can boast that he has trod
On him^that was the scourge of God.
4. But ye the mountain stream shall turn,
And lay its secret channel bare, ^/
And hollow, for your sovereign's urn, o^,^.,u^
. A resting-place forever there:
Then bid its everlasting springs
Flow back upon the King of kings-
And never be the secret said.
Until the deep give up his dead.
i. My gold and silver ye shall fling U.V
Back to the clods that gave them birth; jj^JU.
The captured crownt, of many a king,
The ransom of a onnnnafcA ^.>^iu .
For e'en though dead, will I control
The trophies of the capitol.
4tUA
4 H
148
THE SIX?H READER.
6. But whein beneath the mountaii^ tide
YeVe laid your monarch dowi. to rot, Wv-vr^'
Ye shall not rear upon its side
Pillar or mound to niark the spot ; v\ju*.hvsC
For long enough the world has shook
Beneath the terrors of my look ;
And now that I have run my race,
The astonished realms shall rest a spaca.
1. My coarse was like ^% river deep,
And from the r.orthcvn hilis I brrst,
Across the world in '*rf.> i, to sweip j
And where I went t. o land was cursed;
Nor blade of grcss a/ani was seen,
Where Alaric and hio hosts had been.
8. See how the haughty barriers fail
Beneath ttse terror of the Goth, —
Their iron-breat»ted legions quail
Before my ruthless sabaoth ;
And low the queen of empires kneels,
And grovels at my chariot-wheels. f\Ani.,Ni;i.
9. Not for myself did I ascend,
In judgment, my triumphal car ;
•Twas God alone on high did send
The avenging Scythian to the war,
To shake abroad, with iron hand.
The appointed scourge of his cotomand.
10. With iron hand that scourge I reared,
O'er guilty king and guilty realm •
Destruction was the ship I steered,
And Vengeance aat upon the helm ;
When launched in fury on the flood,
I ploughed my way throi : . seas of blood,
Auu m the atrSam inPT L ■ . -,3 uEu Split,
Washed out the long arrears of guilt, ly^vsv^i
tU\A/|lA^'^
N'S
. c
F0BEN3IC AND JUDICIAL.
il. AcrosK fhe everlasting Alp
I po;r ed the torrent of my powers.
And fttble Cepsars shrieked for help'
In vain within their seven-hilled towers-
I quenched in blood the brightest gem '
That glittered in their diadem;
And atruc^ a darker, deeper die, ltwl.,v
In the purple of their majesty;
And bade my northern banners shine
Upon the conquered Palatine.
12. My conrse is run, my errand done ; //^vt)
I go to Him from whence I came*
But never yet shall set the sun
Of glory that adorns my name;
And Roman hearts shall long be sick
When men shall think of Alaric.
18. My course is run, my errand done,—
But darker ministers of fate,
Impatient round the eternal throne.
And in the caves of vengeance, wait;
And soon mankind shall blench away
Before the name of Attila. j,^^
449
f"'
(Mj/U
mMrJ^
12. SPEECH OP SALATHIEL IN FAVOR OF RESISTING THE
ROMAN POWER.
WHAT I must we first mingle in the cabals of Jerusalem
; and rouse the frigid debaters and disputers of the San^
' Inm mto action? Are we first to conciliate the irreconcil-
to sotten the furious, to purify the corrupt? If the Ro-
;|ans are to be our tyrants till we can teach patriotism to
,| -u, we ms.j a. w^u : udu wie aungeun at once ; for to the
I dungeon we are consigned for the longest lif^ among us.
nw
450
THE SIXTH BSADEB.
2. Death or glory for rae. There is no alternative between,
« not merely the half-slavery that we now live in.and independ-
ence, but between the most condign suffering and Ihe most
illustrious security. If the people would rise, through tlie
pressure of public injury, they must have risen long since ; if
from private violence, what town, what district, what family,
has not its claims of deadly retribution ? Yet, here the people
stand, after a hundred years of those continued stimulants to
resistance, as unresisting as in the day when Pompey marched
yj^J^^ over the threshold of the temple.
3. I know your generous friendship, Eleazer, and fear that
your anxiety to save me from the chances of the struggle mav
bias your better judgment. But here I pledge myself, by all
that constitutes the honor of man, to strike at all risks a blow
upon the Roman crest that shall echo through the land.
4. What I commit our holy cause into the nursing of those
j,^>V^ pampered hypocrites, whose utter baseness of heart you
know still more deeply than I do? Linger, till those pestilent
profligates raise their price with PloruSj by betraying a de-
sign, that will be the glory of every man who draws a sword
in it?
6. Vainly, madly, ask a brood that, like the serpent, engen-
der and fatten among the ruins of their country, to discard
their venom, to cast their jfangs, to feel for human feelings ?
As well ask the serpent itself to rise from the original curse.
6. It is the irrevocable nature of faction to be base till it
can be mischievous ; to lick the dust until it can sting ; to^
creep on its belly until it can twist its folds round the victim.
Luvllut''^^"' let the old pensionaries, the bloated hangers-on in the
I ^' train of every governor, the open sellers of their country for
filthy lucre, betray me when I leave it in their power. To tlie
field, I say ! once and for all, to the field I
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
45)
18. EXTRACT FROM RODERICK. THE LAST OP THE GOTHS.
A n^K^.l^Y.'^^ '^^"^'''^ «P'"^*°ff at her door
She laid her spindle by, and running in
Took bread, and fallowing after, call'd him back.
And placing ,n hi8 passive hands the loaf
She said, "Christ Jesus, for his mother's sike
Have mercy on thee I" With a look that seem'd
L ke Idiocy he heard her, and stood still.
Staring awhile; then bursting into tears
Wept hke a child, and thus relieved his heart
Till even to bursting else with swellii^g thoughts
2. So through the streets, and through the northern gate^
^d Rodenck, reckless of a resting-place, ^
With feeble yet with hurried step^pursue
His agitated way ; and when he reach'd
The open fields, and found himself alone
Beneath the starry canopy of heaven,
The sense of solitude, so dreadful late
Was then repose and comfort. There 'he stopt
Beside a little rill, and brake the loaf-
And shedding o'er that unaccustomed 'food "^^
Painful but quiet tears, with grateful soul
He breathed thanksgiving forth; then made his bed
On heath and myrtle. »
* SODTHBT. ^™*H«AA
-TMUA.
14. SALATHIEL TO TITUS.
•-' m the mxt be an exile ^r a elave : 7 ,.„e ties tn Hfj!.
-troog. as ever were bound round the h.. , "f Iln I tn"
!t:: T:"r. 'z "■' "^^ °' "—'"'" "« -'■^•^
f.^ri' / !; ,".' """ "'""'' ""•'■nited, for the safety of my
f".Uy, for the life of the noUo yictim that i. now et^dbg J
■i'.h
459
THE SIXTH RFAr»T:il
KmnY-v,
the place of torture, dare I abanui a, f*^i.i liiink the impioub
thought of abandoning the cause of the City of Holiness.
2. Titus I in the name of that Being to whom the wisdom
of the earth is folly, I adjure you to beware. Jerusalem is
sacred. Her crimes have often wrought her mi«r
has she been tranpled by the armies of the sti anger. But
she is still the City of the Omnipotent ; and never was blow
inflicted on her by man, tiiat was not terribly repaid.
3. The Assyrian car. j, the mightiest power of the world
he plundered her temple, and led her people into captivity
How long was it b ''. re his empire was a dream, his dynasty
extinguished in blood and an enemy on his throne? The
Persian came : from her protector, he turned into her op-
pressor ; and his empire was swept away like the dust of the
desert 1 The Syrian smote her : the smiter died in r- agonies of
remorse; and where is his kingdom now? The Egyptian
smote her: and who now sits on the throne of the Ptolemies?
4. Pompey came: the invincitde, the conqueror of a thousand
cities, the light of Rome ; the lord of Asia, riding on the very
wings of victory. But he profaned her temple ; and from that
hour he went down — down like a millstone nlui^^ed into the
ocean! Blind counsel, rash ambition, womanish fe^rs, were
upon the great statesman and warr' •• of Koivie. W ire doea
he sleep? What sands were coverea ^ ith his blood?
6. The universal conqueror died a slave, by the hand of a
slave ! Crassus came at the he.;! of t' ; ; .pons: he plnndere 1
the sacred vessels of the sanctuary. Veiigeance follow t I him,
and he was cursed by the curse of God. Where bt: the
bones of the robber and his host? Go, tear thou frcn the
jaws of the lion and the wolf of Parthia, — their a \g nb 1
6. You, too, son of Vesvasian, may be commip ned <r the
punishment of a stiff-necked and rebellious peopl . You may
scourge our na . od vice by force of arms ; and then you may
return to your own land exalting in the conquest of the
fiercest enemy of Romie. But shall you escape the common
fate of the instrument of evil ? Shall you see a peaceful old
*geJ S
not rathi
your virt
the Plavi
Ml
Which
No,— ](
And, at
Attack
Of his
2 luiljapa
May re£
Rise, fat
Rise, an
Or ehar€
Manure
•^it here,
If we sh
Or Wear
Rouse up
Point out
^rreat Por
An,J Scipi
16.
Y '>U have (
against J
"He has no far
^^ 'iiustnous 1
'ORENSIC AND JUDIOIAL. 45,
yoar virtue, and „akeCef:L':; ""'"^^ "■" """""■■^ "'
tie Flavian name ? ' " ^"'teraoss uf her soul, curs.
15. SEMPUOlnCS' 8PEECB TOR WAB.
JITY voice ie still for war
No.-ie. «i rir;:,: °™:,r"^ - "-«•'
A..d, at the head of our .^- '"" '"'•">'.
Attack the l„e break th T""^ '""'"■
' '".imps so„,e ar„, ,,re J^" ,7' """" '"°'- M
May reach his heart Zt ! " "'" ^'""^ '
fi«e, father, rise! 'tis 1 ■„ V ""'" ''''""" ''"■"iago.
Ri-, and reveug i^r , !,, f'T'' ^°" ^^"^ =
Or .hare their fftelTh;f "';,"?"'■
Manure the fields of Th ssat " '""' ''" ^'""<'
,^i' ',ere deliberating inTd'i;,;^,- '—
' wear tiiem out in sprvifn^^ ,
ft p servitude und chains
^ro:\t.trds?7----.aiia
An. soipio-s .host walks r„r:i::^ ::-*".
I — ■Aj)DIflow.
"■ "^"'S MAEms TO THE SOMANS.
Y >iJ ^ave committed to t.,,
-'- aga,nst Jugurtha The ^ ,™''-''""'' ° ^''"'«"». «<• war
■'He has no fa4 :;:;„; ^:,~ns are offonde, at „:
- -„str.o„s line of .noestJrs^r";- I.^; ^ ^f "'^ -
I. 'I
■ii^-f
464
THE SIXTH RSADfiR.
i
ancestors, will ihotionless statues help fight yonr battles?
Will it avail your general to appen to these, in the poriloun
hour?
2. Rare wisdom would it be, my countrymen, to intrust the
command of your army to one whose only qualification for it
would bo the virtue of his forefathers I to one untried and uri-
jxperienced, but of most unexceptiorable family I who could
(jj^^*c«- not show a solitary scar, but any number of ancestral statutsl
who knew not the first rudiments of war, but was very pur-
feet in pedigrees! Truly I have known of such holiday
heroes, — raised, because of family considerations, to a com-
mand for which they were not fitt* .1, — who, when the moment
for action arrived, were obliged, in their ignorance and trepi-
dation, to give to some inferior officer — to some despised
plebeian — the ordering of every movement.
3. I submit to you, Romans, — is patrician pride or plebeian
(^tJo*^'- experience the safer reliance? The actions of which my op-
I ponents have merely read, I have achieved or shared in.
What they have seen written in books, I have seen written on
battle-fields with steel and blood.
4. They object to my humble birth. They sneer at my
lowly origin. Impotent objection! Ignominious sneer I
Where but in the spirit of a man (bear witness, gods I),—
where but in the spirit, can his nobility be lodged? and where
bis dishonor, but in his own cowardly inaction, or his un-
worthy deeds ? Tell these railers at my obscure extraction,
their haughty lineage could not make them noble — my humble
birth could never make me base 1
5. I profess no indifierence to noble descent. It is a good
thing to number great men among one's ancestry. But when
A^jj^^ a descendant is dwarfed in the comparison, it should be ac-
counted a shame rather than a boast. These patricians can-
not despise me, if they would, since their titles of nobility date
from ancestral services similar to those which I myself have
.rendered.
6. Aul (vhat if I can show no family statues ? I can show
the stanc
have wren
many woi
These are
an accider:
abstinence,
cenes of )
^ould now
appear,— n(
1. Here,
l>'lity; here
"le, are the
they not as ^
which any p
nOMANS,
^ and be t
honor, and ha
Censure me ir
may the bette
2. If there b
to him I say, t
If, then, that 1
this is my ang
loved Rome m(
3. Had you 1
that Caesar wei
roe, I weep for
lie was valiant,
him. There are
l»i8 valor, and d
4- Who is h,
*ny, speak ; for
»»'<^ AKD JODIOIAl. 45J
the standards, the armor anH ti,
>— wr..,ted fr„„ „,e ;„';, 1 ^ J""""' ;'■«'■ ' -^-'^
many wouuds received i„ ,. , " "'"'"■ ""> »<""« «f
Tl.™ are „y Statu,,, i;;™ "''"« ""> <""•"">» "r&e.
.» accidental inheritance «kV it 'f ™° ''""'' "''' '"*<"
abstinence, by valor; am'dl„de7; T'"""" "^ ""'• "^
«■>«» of action in \,,,7'? f ""''' "!.''"»« »"<) seas of Wood ,
,-"'■< -.depreoiatet1ny:;::j,!:':r '''"'"""■ -""
•Ppe.r,-no, not even as speitorr. " ' ' ""'"' "^"'"^ '-
«. are they not as respectabt are th' ^°°' °™^ ' '''"
'h<iy not as deserving of yonrcoifid ^" "' '""''■ ^''
wtioh any patrician of them l,;:"';;,:?"' """"' ^ '^°-
-ay the better jndge' " "^^'"' ''"" «™«'-'». 'hat you
'»M»?s:^lTcr.ortr^-"^^--"-"^ofc«sar.s.
Uben, that friend dema d whl bTuI"" '"' '^'^ '"" '"'•■
'!>« is n>y answer : Not that I lo in " "*"'"" ^^sar,
l»'<Ki Rome more '"'" "*""■ i''*'. l-t that i
<k«t rarTe::t:'T„rn,f r^' -^ ^'-" «'-, 'han
■»«. I "oep for him ■ as he 1 I """ ' ^' """ar love.
Je was valiant, I ho^o hta b't I """''• ' '*''"' »'■'"»
J™. There are tears for h"s' love i f T """'"""^-I «lew
k« valor, and death for his ambTtlo? '"' f""™. '•""or fo,
4- Who is herfl an k.^o .
"^. «P.ak ; for him"ha« I offendid ^ t Vr'"" ' "
110 18 here so rade^
if*
456
THE SIXTH READBB.
that would not be a Roman ? If any, apeak ; for him have I
oflfended. Who is here so vile, that would not love his country ?
If any, speak ; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply
5. None 1 Then none have I offended. I have done no more
to Csesar than you should do to Brutus. The question of his
death is enrolled in the capitol— his glory not extenuated,
wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he
suffered death.
6. Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who,
though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit
of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you
Bhsll not ? With this I depart>-that as I slew my best lover
foi the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when
it t^hall please my country to need my death.
ikv.^^
18. THE SPARTANS' MARCH.
[The Spartans used not the trumpet In their march into battle, Bays Thn-
cy^ides, because they wished not to excite the rage of their warriors. Their
charging step was made to the Dorian mood of flutes and soft recorders.]
^mWAS morn upon the Grecian hills, where peasants
J- dressed the vines ;
Sunlight was on Citheeron's hills, Arcadia's rocks and pines ;
And brightly, through his reeds and flowers, Enrotas wan-
dered bv,
When a souu^ -rose from Sparta's towers of solemn harmony.
Was it the hunter's choral strain, to the woodland goddess
poured ?
Did virgin hands, in Pallas' fane, strike the full-sounding chord?
n.
But helms were glancing on the stream, spears ranged in close
array,
' And shields flung back a glorious beam to the mora of a fearfs.-
day I
FOBENSIO AMD JUDICIAL.
487
And the_nK>™tain echoes of the land swelled through the deep- k^/.
While to soft et'rata moved forth a band of n>en,th.t moved
'^'"^ 'Zl'^''."' "'* "" "°""""'" '"^^*' '">' ^'^^ *« 1"'™
'"'' "rto?*""'- "' "■' *^^ f^"^' "-S Wth no battle!^*^'
ni.
They aaked no clarion', voice to fire their souls „ith an imp„I«,
"""' "aiyT "^ "' ""' 'P""^ 'y^»' f" "-o -■« of
^' "^eXr """'• *°" '"* """"'■ ^^"' fortt^olian
They needed not . sterner sound to marshal them for death :
So moved they clmly to their field, thenoe never to return
Save b„ng,ng back the Spartan shield, or on it proudly bornTl ^
Fblioia. Hbuaks
t) ' t I
Id. THE DEATH OP LEONIDAS
JT was the wild mianight-a storm was on the sky;
The hghtning gave its light, and the thunder echied by ,,
The torrent swept the glen, the ocean lashed the r^.ore • LaJT'^J^
Then rose the Spartan men. to make their bed in gnre fl' fe
Sw.ft from the deluged ground^three hundred tookThe shS^
Then m silence gathered round the leader of the field I '
n.
All up the mountain's side, all down the woody vale,
A i by the ro l,ng tide waved the Persian banners pale,
tl T" , "°.""' >""'• """"S the slumbering band,
?h f ^,7,^r°"''"' '""' ""' "^"*°»S'» living iand fc..
Rnt *k """" t^'h-^nu zne loresfc ceased its moan •
But there came a clash of steel, and a distant dying groa'„.
9ft
458
THE SIXTH READEB.
t^
i\ Wiw^r Anon a trumpet blew, and a fiery sheet burst high, ! \w
That o'er the midnight threw a blood-red canopy. '
A host glared on the hill ; a host glared by the bay; l^.
But the Greeks rushed onward still, like leopards in their play
The air was all a yell, and tbo earth was all a flame,
"Where the Spartan's bloody a^el on the silken turbans came ;
And still the Greek rushed on, where the fiery torrent rolled,
Till, like a rising sun, shone Xerxes' tent of gold.
IV.
They found a royal feast, his midnight banquet there,
And the treasures of the Bast lay beneath the Doric spear.
Then sat to the repast the bravest of the brave !
That feast must be their last, that spot must be their grave.
Up rose the glorious rank, to Greece one cup poured high ;
Then hand in hand they drank, " To immortality I"
V.
Fear on King Xerxes fell, when, like spirits from the tomb.
With shout and trumpet knell, he saw the warriors come, ','^
But down swept all his power, with chariot and with charge ;
"Down poured the arrows' shower, till sa'nk the Spartan t-irge.
Thus fought the Greek of old ! thus will he fight again 1
Shall not the self-same mould bring forth the self-same men f
/IjjvjU ? CauLT.
20, THE FLIGHT OP XERXES.
I SAW him on the battle-eve,
When like a king he bore him :
Proud hosts were there in helm and greave,
And prouder chiefs before him.
The warrior, and the warrior's deeds, —
The morrow, and the morrow's meeds, — (\i-^'^p>:'-'
No daunting thought came o'er him ; ■\<vJ^,
He looked around him, and his eye
Defiauce flashed to earth and sky ! »to**^-
[Beiope the baf
flannibal, were vi
follows.]
'OBEN6I0 AHD JUDICIAL.
«. He boked on ocean.-ite abroad breast
^as covered with his fleet ; ft.,lC '
On earth,-and saw, from east to west.
His bannered millions meet ;
While rock, and glen, and cave, and ocean.
Shook with the war-cry of that host, ^
The th-uuder of their feet I
He heard the imperial echoes ring •
He heard,-and felt himself a king I
«• I saw him next alone ; nor camp
Nor chief his steps attended :
Nor banner blazed, nor courser's tramp
With war-cries proudly blended.
^« stood alone, whom fortune high
bo lately seemed to deify :
He who with Heaven contended.
* led, hke a fugitive and slave \
Behmd,-the foe; before,--the wave I
I. He stood ; fleet, army, treasure, gone -
Alone, and in despair I '
While wave and wind swept ruthless on
i^or thei/ were monaichs there ;
And Xerxes, in a single bark
Where late his thousand ships were dark
Must all their fury dare : '
What a revenge, a trophy, this,
For thee, immortal Salamis ! Mibs JimMOBT.
159
»1. SCIPIO TO HIS ARMY.
[Before the battle of Tlciau« « r ■ is «„ u ,. .
Hannibal, were victcrious. The ti^.:; '0.^ .'? *^" Cartha^nia„». n^der
follows.] ^''^ "'''^''^ °^ *h6 Matter, on the eamc occasion,
Jj-OT because of their courage, soldiers, but because an
engagement is now inevitable, do the e'nemy pr^a^I ^^
460
THE SIXTH READER.
'i
f/pH'^
battle Two-thiixls of their infantry and cavalry have beon
lost in the passage of the Alps. Those who survive hardly
equal in number those who have perished. Should any one
say, "Though few, they are stout and irresistible," I reply,—
Not 80 1 They are the veriest shadows of men ; wretclies,
emaciated with hunger, and benumbed with cold ; bruiscil
and enfeebled among the rocks and crags ; their joints fiost-
bittfic, their sinews stiffened with the snow, their armor Lat^
tei-ed and shivered, their horses lame and powerless.
Uv 2. Such is the cavalry, such the infantry, against which
u*^ you have to contend ; — not enemies, but shreds a nd remnants
' of enemies 1 And I fear nothing more, than that when you
have fought Hauuibal, the Alps may seem to have been be-
forehand, and to have robbed you of the renown of a victory.
But perhaps it was fitting that the Gods themselves, irrespeo
tive of human aid, should commence and carry forward a war
against a leader and a people who violate the faith of trea-
ties ; and that we, who next to the Gods have been most
injured, should complete the contest thus commenced, and
nearly finished.
3. I would, therefore, have you fight, soldiers, not only
tuvA^"*^ vith that spirit with which you are wont to encounter other
.tnemies, but with a certain indignation and resentment, such
AB you might experience if you should see your slaves sud-
denly taking up arms against you. We might have slain
these Carthaginians, when they were shut up ii> Eryx, by hun-
ger, the most dreadful of hun)an tortures. We might have
carried over our victorious fleet to Africa, and, in a few days,
have destroyed Carthage, without opposition.
4. We yielded to their prayers for pardon ; we released
them from the blockade ; we made peace with them when con-
quered ; and we afterwards hold them under our protection,
when they were borne down by the African war. In return for
these benefits, they come, under the leadership of a hot-
. brained youth, to lay waste our country. Ah 1 would that tha
contest on your side were now for glory, and not for safety !
5. It is
Italy, tha
which, 8h(
are there i
may be pi
6. Here
must fighi
every man
wife and c
of them al
Bom an Sei
eyes, to on
shall this d
welfare — n
TTERE, 8(
•*J- right i
ship to fly ti
larger and i
scarcely pag
Here Fortun
here she wilj
undergone.
many triump
2. Think 1
uanie, the vi(
i;tiles, from ti
ovor uK'unta
through the
whom are yo
vt'ry Kummei
»Ti»y unknow
3. Shall I c
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL. 4QX
lt!wliT' ^"' *'" r''*^'^'" ^^' ^''''y ^"d Sardinia, but for
Italy that you n^ust fight : uor is there another army behind
wh.ch. should we fail to conquer, can resist the eneL nor
must tight as ,f we fought before the walls of Romel Ipt
«*y, lue very existence, of our country | Livr.
22. HANNIBAL TO HIS ABMY.
ffrl1;t"!fJTeft7 ""* '"'r ^^"'^"^^ ^^ ^- «- the
shipt'fly tofi t pT 7:/"^'-;^-^ -dyou have no
r J' tu loi escape. Ihe river Po around vnn fV.^ d
largo,- and more i„,pet„„„s than .he Kho.C-the'^IL' H"'
scarcely passed b, y„„ „Le„ fre.h and vigorous tl v „ in
""-«h .he fiercest nZ;ro.r;nd s""' I''?™"'
•h-aroyouno^toflghtf Wi'h,"a ""'"■ 1"" """•
vry ««m,„e,. „..„ bea.!„ ,.,„!:!!::: '»-:/™", which thio
"7 'r";-"" *" '"^'^ '-d-rand he'.: ti::. '"'" "" > ""
J. Shall I compare myself, almost born, «,d certainly bred
9W- A-
Cnn
3il.
462
THE SIXTH READER.
^
\m\
in the tent of my father, that illustrious commander, — myself,
the conqueror, not only of the Alpine Nations, but of the
Alps themselves,— myself, who was the pupil of you all, be«
fore I became your commander,— to this six mouths* jfeneval '(
or shall I compare his army wjth minef
4, On what side soever I turn my eyes, I behold all full of
courage and strength : — a veteran infantry ; a most gallant
cavalry ; you, our allies, most faithful and valiant ; you,
Carthaginians, whom not only your country's cause, but the
justest anger, impels to battle. The valor, the confidence of
invaders, are ever greater than those of the defensive party.
6. As the assailants in this war, we pour down, with hostile
standards, upon Italy. We bring the war. Suffering, injury
and indignity, fire our minds. First they demanded me, your
leader, for punishment ; and then all of you, who had laid
Biege to Saguntum. And, had we been given up, they would
have visited us with the severest tortures.
6, Cruel and haughty nation I Every thm/y mnat he yours,
and at your disposafl You are to prescribe to us with wliom
we shall have war, with whom peace 1 You are to shut us
up by the boundaries of mountains and rivers, which we must
not pass I But you — you are not to observe the limits your-
Belves have appointed! "Pass not the Iberus I "— What
next? "Saguntum is on the Iberus. You must not move a
Btep in any direction 1"— Is it a small thing that you have
deprived us of our most ancient provinces, Sicily and Sar-
dinia? Will you take Spain also? Should we yield Spain,
you will cross over into Africa. WUl cross, did I say? Tliey
have sent the two Consuls of this year, one, to Africa, tiie
other to Spain !
t. Soldiers, there is nothing left to us, in any quarter, but
what we can vindicate with our swords. Let those be cow-
ards who have something to look back upon ; whom, flying
through safe and unmolested roads, their own country will
receive. There i8_ajiece8sity for us to be brave. There is uo
alternative but^ipjpy or death ; and, if it must be deaikf who
«vould n
immorta
Let but
proclaim
TLL doe
■^ becom
erable asi
public, to
Though 01
limbs, or
pledge of
Carthagini
2. They
the failure
My honor i
tune can j(
time cannot
3. Of the
exampled s
swept off th
general, woi
will not spe
my portion,
the dear ame
of country, h
more I
4. But dur
She has recc
'ost. She ha
pnsoiiers. a
tiiagiaiaus; v
Lot but the*, tratha iJZiinT^'" i""""'" '" "'=''»7.
proolata, you are oou<,ue™« , ' """ """^ '^'"■" '
larr.
»• »»''l-rs TO TM ROMAN SENATE.
A beo^r EuX-a^:; h '"'"°™ °' ^"'^'-'" '"^^ "
erable assembf/ Lej JitbT/ " "''" ^^ "" *--.
public, to stand Wor^JaJXrT' '"?°"^ "' '"' «-
Though outwardly I am free Th'rr''''™"''*^'^'''**'
"■»bs, or gall the teh -IC r^' ''° ''""^ «-'«"'"ber the
.i-ca„„idVde:.ht;:tti:s°°™''' "^■"'°' ^'""^'-r
o«™pr:ur3r„n„rarr^^^^^ °"«'-°-
awept off the flower of our SrLd ""' '""^ "'"'=''
geueral, wounded and m,nJZ7'cTi>'"'^ ""■ y°"'
will not apeak. For five 1^ a ri^f *'""'" ^"'"'•'e.-l
my portion. For five yearr„' 1 'TT ""'P""'^ ''»» >««
•ho dear amenities of hCtht eurof f T''" """ '™"'^
-ountry, ha.e been to me a ^a:'Z:t^:X
B.:br^e:^:i,r:rit7u: tr'T^^^^^
'»«■ She ha. routed armi« si '!! "."'" ''^«"'''» ^'^ ' «
prisoueis. oiie has struck terr„r'V„ 'iT r"'"" """"""""Kd ■^ L^\u>m',
"baginiane; who haye now ..T ,, u" ""'' "^ *= Cm.
nave now sent me kther with their amba» .if.
1^'
164
THE SIXTH HEADER.
IM
U^uJ/</t Badors, to nae for peace, and to propose that, in exchange for
me, your former Consul, a thousand common prisoners of war
shall be given up.
6. You have heard the ambass^ors. Their intimations ot
some unimaginable horror — I know not what — impending over
myself, should I fail to induce you to accept their terms, havo
strongly moved your sympathies in my behalf.
6. Another appeal, which I would you might have been
spai-ed, has lent force to their suit. A wife and children,
threatened with widowhood and orphanage, weeping and de-
spairing, have knelt at your feet, on the very threshold of the
Senate-chamber. Conscript Fathers 1 Shall not Regulus be
saved? Must he return to Carthage to meet the cruelties
which the ambassadors brandish before our eyes?
7. With one voice you answer. No 1 Countrymen! Friends!
For all that I have suffered — for hW that I may have to suffer
— ^I am repaid in the compensation of this moment 1 Unfortu-
nate, you may hold me ; but, O, not undeserving ! Your con-
fidence in my honor survives ail the ruin that adverse fortune
could inflict. You have not forgotten the past. Republics
are not ungrateful! May the thanks I cannot utter bring
down blessings from the Gods on you and Rome 1
8. Conscript Fathers! There is but one course to be pursued.
Abandon all thought of peace. Reject the overtures of Car-
thage 1 Reject them wholly and unconditionally ! ^ Whati
Give back to her a thousand able-bodied men, and receive in
return this one attenuated, war-worn, fever-wasted frame, —
this weed, whitened in a dungeon's darkness, pale and sapless,
which no kindness of the sun, uo softness of the summer
breeze, can ever restore to health and vigor?
9. It must not — it shall not be I 01 were Regulus what he
was once, before captivity had unstrung his sinews and
enervated his limbs, he might pause, — he might proudly think
he were well worth a thousand of the foe ; — he might say,
"MaK6 tne excnange i iconie snau not iosc oy it i"
10. But jQOw — alas ! now 'tis gone, — that impetuosity (d
strength, v
tratc a pha
a burden n(
the onset.
sliield. Bu
country 1
eider : ever
iioap on his
to your arm
11. They
aud their It
regard only
Sicily,— evei
wiJl flash or
wrath. And
fought befort
12. Conscr;
—forgive the
I leave them
example.
13. Ambasi
its you expect
ever fate ma;
Roman hearts,
piecioua than
24. L
VE men of .'
' inspire Li
redound to the
barbarian kinj
i^alions as our
effect ?
2. ill tins eu
power should i
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
465
a burden now Hit iZt .. ''^'^ '^'"'"'" ^""'^ l^e
the onset. H. fj r^: ^^^^^^^^^^ ^.^
filiield. But if he c J.nf ; . ' ^" '"' opponent's
to your armies. trumpet s culJ
11. They will remember only Rpn-nlna +i • r „
and their leader Ti.«„ n . ^^^"'"»' ^'^^ir fellow-soldier
"icir ieaaer. ihey will lorget his defeaf« Ti, -n
i-egurd only his services to the ReuulL T ^\ """^
U Conscript Fathers I There is another themp M r •,
-forgive the thought I To vou a,.H / T T' ^ ^^""''^
I leave them no legacy but mv ^ "''' ^ "'^'^^^^ ^h^"^"
example. ^ ^ ^ name.-no testament but my
Komanheartsf:: ^yTs deare^r^ '7.''^'' ^"^' *^
precious than freedom 1 ^'^'' '"^ ^'^'^^^'^^^ ^^'^ '
24. LEONIDAS TO HIS THREE HUNDRED
-ouud^oth/^ixr^;-;::^^-^
effect? ^' ^" '"^^"•^«' "^^^^ -"I^ united Grooce
*• iii Hiis
emergency there is need that
power should interpose itself •_
some unexpected
20*
■that a valor and devotion,
il
166
THE SIXTH READER.
unknown hitherto', even to Sp'irta, should strike, amaze, con-
found, this ambitious despot 1 From our blood, here freely
Bhed to-day, shall this moral power, this sublime lesson (./
patriotism, proceed. To Greece it shall teach the secret of her
strength ; to th(; Persians, the certainty of their weakness.
e^y^Mvoj 3. Before our scarred and bleeding bodies, we shall see the
ru-u^W great king grow pale at his own victory, and recoil aflVighted
Or, should he succeed in forcing the pass of Thr- mopylre, he
will tremble to learn, that, in marching upon our cities, he will
find ten thousand, after us, equally prepared for death.
J^ 4. Ten thousand, do I say ? 0, the swift contagion of a
generous enthusiasm 1 Our example shall make Greece all
fertile in heroes. An avenging cry shall follow the cry of her
Affliction.
6. Country 1 Independence 1 From the Messenian Hills to
the Hellespont, every heart sb li r- spond; and a hundred thou-
sand heroes, with one sacred ; v* u: d, shall arm themselves, in
emulation of our unanimoiis d«>:?,th.
6. These rocks shall givo b-u^k the echo of their oaths.
Then shall our little band,— the brave these hundred,— from
the world of shades, revisit the scene ; behold the haughty
Xerx«.3, a fugitive, recross the Hellespont in a frail bark;
while Greece, after eclipsing the most glorious of her exploits,
^>,^^ shall hallow a new Olympus in the inound that covers our
tombs.
1. Yes, fellow-soldiers, history and posterity shall conse-
crate our ashes. Wherever courage is honored, through all
time, shall Thermopylae and the Spartan three hundred be
remembered. Ours shall be an immortality such as no human
glory has yet attained. ^- "v
8. And when ages shall have swept by, and Sparta's last
hour shall have come, then, even in her ruins, shall she be
eloquent. Tyrants shall turn away from them, appalled ; but
the heroes of liberty— the poets, the sages, the historians of
' ',11 time — shall invoke and bless the memox-y of the gallant
three hundred of Leonidas 1
25. I
tolns of Bri(
der Agrlcola
lug his folloi
wger for bat
A S ofter
*- essit
your will, (
For we hi
retreat liet
Human fleei
3. 'i us a
the only ref
the Britons
fiur valor w;
the nauons,
es, unused
inviolate fro
3. We, th
fame, have
the extreme 1
regarded as i
but the rocks
whose pride 3
tion and subs
4. The robb
the sea. Is tl
they are ambit
their desires,
rapacity. To
they call empii
peace.
^ 5. Nature hi
they are carrie:
«Dd fortunes t
rOREMSIC iss JITDIOIAL.
». SPEECU OF. OALa.CUS «, THE CALEDONiANS
467
^>\
/o„r will, .reubout to .; i?"'f' °" """ «■- ""y. a,,,!
For we ,..« ., Li,:c:e! :trr:„:-'""" ;''-^-
retreat lies Wiind >,8. The sea Z • • " P'""" "'
8«n.a„ fleet hovem arouDd " '""''""-' ""'«'" "'»
"" valor was „ resource to I„„k to • for 1„ ,1. , """'■
'te naucs, and, on that aco 1 plataTni ^ •"'''''''" °' "''
e», unused .0 the specta, of servfede Ld '™™' ««•«*
mviolate from its hatefnl si.-ht "^ '^''' "'■°
fa'e.T:;e"':elr'hitLtia:d\°"^^''"-' """"""» "•
the e«re„e limits „f bZ^'^;^':^ a'dle^T"" ^ """
regarded as the ma<.m-ficent T„ r ^^»""" '' •""
t-t the rocs and t?e '^e:, ^ S^t^X:' ' """''"'
^:s^!z '- ™'-" --'' '° ^«et' rar
«;eyarean.hiti„„., th^e^st a^dTe wr^^'r^ P»-'
their desires. Wealth ^nd n, . '^^'^ *^ ««t'a<«
rapacity. To Ir^; /"l" ^^^ ^"^^ --^ed b, their
they call empire- and wh T ' '^ ^" ^^'«« pretences,
peace. "^ ' °^' ^^'" *^*''^- "^^ke a desert, they call it
•^ °'' ""^ t»'l>»te,ourcorna8 supplies
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THE SIXTH READEB.
our veiy bodies and hands they wear out, amid strife and
contumely, in fortifying stations in the woods and marshes.
6. Serfs boru in servitude are once bought, and ever after
fed by their masters ; Britain alone daily buys its slavery
daily feeds it. As in families the last slave purchased is
often a laughing-stock to the rest, so we, the last whom they
have reduced to slavery, are the first to be agonized by their
jontumely, and reserved for destruction.
1. We have neither fields, nor minerals, nor harbors, in
working which we can be employed : the valor and fierceness
of the vanquished are obnoxious to the victors : our very dis-
tance and obscurity, as they render us the safer, make us the
more suspected. Lkying aside, therefore, all hope of pardon,
assume the courage of men to whom salvation and glory are
alike dear.
8. The Trinobantes, under a female leader, had courage to
burn a colony and storm castles ; and, had not their success
rendered them negligent, they would have cast off the yoke.
We, untouched and unconquered, nursed in freedom, shall we
not show, on the first onset, what men Caledonia has nursed
in her bosom ?
9. Do not believe the Romans have the same prowess in
war as lust in peace. They have grown great on our divi-
sions ; they know how to turn the vices of men to the glory
of their own army. As it has been drawn together by suc-
cess, so disaster will dissolve it, unless you suppose that the
Gauls and the Germans, and, I am ashamed to say, many of
the Britons, who now lerd their blood to a foreign usurpation,
and in their hearts are rather enemies than slaves, can be
etained by faith and affection. Vj^U.
10. Fear and terror are but slender bonds of attachment;
when you remove them, as fear ceases, terror begins. All the
incitements of victory are on our side : no wives inflame the
Romans ; no parents are there, to call shame on their fliglit ;
■ hey have no country, or it is elsewhere. Few in number,
larful from ignorance, gazing on unknown woods and seas,
the Gods
hands. L(
gold, whicl
11. In tl
the Britoni
recollect th
them, as la
are behind
nies, dissen
sick and dif
12. Here
ments, and
instantly to
the field, an^
26. TITUS (
THOUGH
with the
serably. Yoi
fourth consu
the very gati
foreseen tha
oflBcial year,-
Consul, — I w
by death.
2. Yes ; I
enough ! I i
^a,^ did these mc
you, citizens?
we deserve.
Eor luen mai
r«p«ut.
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
^9
the Gods have delivered them, shut in and bound, into your
hands. Let not their vain aspect, the glitter of silver and
gold, which neither covers nor wounds, alarm you
IL In the very line of the enemy we shall find our friends ;
the Bntons will recognize their own cause ; the Gauls will
recollect their former freedom : the other Germans will desert
them as lately the Usipii have done, l^o objects of terror
are behind them ; naught but empty castles, age-ridden colo.
Dies, dissension between cruel masters and unwilling slaves
sick and discordant cities. '
12. Here is a leader, an army ; there are tributes and pay-
ments. and the badges of servitude, which to bear forever, or Kum*.
instantb. to avenge, ties in your arms. Go forth, then, into ^
the field, and think of your ancestors and your descendants
Tacwuc
I
m
s
26. TITUS QUINTIUS AGAINST QUARRELS BETWEEN THB
SENATE AND THE PEOPLE.
npHOUGH I am conscious of no fault, Romans, it is yet
-^ with the utmost shame I have come forward to your As-
serably. You have seen it— posterity will know it_that in my
fourth consulate, the JHquans and Volscians came in arras to
tue very gates of Rome, and went away unchastised I Had I
foreseen that such an ignominy had been reserved fur my
offioa year,-that Rome might have been taken while I was
Consul,--! would have shunned the office, either by exile or
by death. tvdi>, ''
2. Yes ; I have had honors enough,-of life more than
enough ! I should ha.e died in my third consulate. Whom
l^^Udid these most dastardly enemies despise ?-u8, Consuls oi
you citizens? If we are in fault, depose us,-punish us' as
we deserve. If you, Romans, are to blame, mav neither God«
nor men make you suffer for your offences l~only may yo«
470
THE SIXTH RBADBB.
^'
3. No, Romans, the confidence of our enemies is not from a
belief m their own courage, or in your cowardice. They have
been too often vanquished, not to know both themselves and
you. D,8cord, discord amongst ourselves, is the rain of this
city. The eternal disputes between the Sonate and the Peo-
ple are the sole cause of our misfortune.
4. In the name of Heaven, what is it, Romans, you would
have? You desired Tribunes of the commons For the sake
of concord, we granted Tribunes. You were eager to have
Decemvirs. We suffered them to be creaiad. You ffrew
weary of Decemvirs. We compelled th.>m to abdicate. You
msisted on the restoration of the Tribuneship. We yielded
You invaded our rights. We have borne, and still bear
6. What termination is there to be to these dissensions?
When shall we have a united city? When one common
country? With the enemy at our gates,-with the Volscian
foe scaling your rampart,— there is no one to hinder it But
against us you are valiant,-against us you diligently take
up arms !
6. Come on, then. Besiege the Senate-house. Make a camp
of the Forum. Fill the jails with our chief nobles Then
sally out with the same determined spirit against the enemy
Does your resolution fail? Look, then, to see your lands
ravaged, your houses plundered and in flames, the whole
country iaid waste with fire and sword.
1. Extinguish, Romans, these fatal divisions I Break the
apell of this enchantment, which readers you powerless and
inactive I If you will but summon up the ancient Romar
courage, and follow your Consuls to the field, I will submit U
any punishment, if I do not rout and put to flight these
ravagers of our territories, and transfer to their own cities the
terror of war. Li^^
FORENSIC AND /UDI0I4t.
471
27. RICHARD TO THE PRICES OP THE CRUSADE.
A^l\l' 'T '"^ ^"'^ ^''' ""^ ^^^t^^'^" ^t «"ch pains to
^ note the mfirmities of our natural temper, and the -ou A
r»reap.tance of our zeal, which may have somelimes urg^d !
I could not have thought that offences, casual and unpremedi-
all es m th.s most holy cause, that for my sake they should
withdraw their hand from the plough when the arrow wis .U
near the end ; for my sake turn aside from the direct pItlTto
Jerusalem which their swords have opened ^
2. I vamly thonght that my small services might have out- ,
P^sfd toT^"' '■'''""' *'" ^^^*-- remenLrerthat"!"^^—
pressed to the van m an assault, it would not be for..otten that »./» , • ' .
I was ever the ast in the retreat ; that if I elevated mrbanne '
sought while others were dividing the spoil. I n.ay have
ailed the conquered city by my name, but it was to othell
that I yielded the dominion.
Ji7h-^r ^'^"^^^^^^'■^"^ in urging bold counsels, I have
t^r^~VT' "^ '"'^ ''°"^'«^ -ypeople's,in clrryin"
them to as bold execution ; or if I have, in the hn ry of Zll *
r cattle, assumed a command over the soldiers of oth rs ch
have ever been treated as my own. when ..y wealth pu cha ed
4. But it shames me to remind you of what all but mvself
B^em to have forgotten. Let us rather look forCr<:^^
Ick If ;ff n. T' " f ^ ^"'^■*'"" '' «'^hard, a stumbling. '
block of offence ,n the path to which religion and glory summon
you, as with the trumpet of an archangel I
5 0, no, no ! Never would I survive the thought that mv
fradtios and infirmities had been the means to „.!!"'
-now«h.p of assembled princes. I would cut^y leffhand
473
THE SIXTH READER.
With my right, co,uId my doing so.attost my sincerity. I wiM
yield up, voluntarily, all right to command in the host even
mine own liege subjects.
J. '^'"'J T-^ ^" ^"^ ^^ '""^ sovereigns as you mav nomi,
nate ; and their king, ever but too apt to exchange the leader's
baton for the adventurer's lance, will serve under^he banne o
Beauseant among the Templars-aye, or under that of Austria.
It Austria will name a brave man to lead his forces
7. Or If ye are yourselves aweary of this war, and feel vom
P ishmen W """' ''' ^""^ '''''''' '^ ^^^ -* ^^^ -com!
pl^hment or your vow; and when Zion is won-when Zion ie
won-we will write upon her gates, not the name of Richard
«antagenet, but of those generous princes who intrusted him
with the means of conquest I o ,„
^ Sib Walteb Scott.
28. ALFRED THE GREAT TO HIS MEN.
jlT Y fiiends, our country must be free I The land
•^»-»- Is never lost that has a son to right her—
And here are troops of sons, and loyal ones 1
Strong ,n her children should a mother be. \,j, ^.
bhall ours be helpless, that has sons like us?
God save our native land, whoever pays
The ransom that redeems her I Now, what wait we f
2. For Alfred's word to move upon the foe ?
Upon him, then I Now think ye on the things
You most do love I Husbands and fathers, on
Their wives and children ; lovers, on their beloved ;
And aU, upon their country I When you use
M"-^"^
VJW<J\
^i'-i-'
Your weapons, think on the beseeching eyes ,,.,
To whet them, could have lent you tears for water f
0, now be men, or never I Prom your hearths
Throat the unbidden feet, that from their nooks £.VH
■ Drove forth your ag^d sires-yonr wives and babes i
'OSENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
«. The couches y„„r fair-handed daughtera „,ed
E..e pe..he.. Jhe .a^^ttt ^roV""*^"
Do honor to he. I Let her gl„ry i„ ^ "'
wnere yoii take your stand upon the field
However you advance, resolve on ^,is-! '"'
Of age and womanhood, and infancy. ^
The helplessness whose safety in you lies
strike hLT Str ke tl , 1. 1^" ^"" "^^* '^-'
Is in an arm f Strike tn ' ^^ ' ' ^'''"^ ^^'^
«*^'u I Jstrike till you're free, or fall I
473
29. THE BATTLR
TTKAVY and solemn,
-*- A cloudy column,
tit: \T''''' '^"^ --^^^ ^ k^linTsound . ,U
■^"^ ft by the breasts that nmst bel^the brunt V ^^
Gallops the Major along the front,- ' ^h'
"Halt!"
Andthewarriors. silent, halt I t^^
ii\>.
474
THE 8IXTH READEB.
tovllv^
j^U-"
n.
Proud in the blush of morning glowing,
What on the hill-top shines in flowing I
"See you the foemau's banners waving?"
" We see the foeman's banners waving P
m.
God be with ye— children and wife I
Hark to the music— the trump and the fife,
How they ring through the ranks which they rouse to tlie
strife I
Thrilling they sound with their glorious tone,
Thrilling they go through the marrow and bone! k4A
Brothers, God grant when this life is o'er.
In the life to come that we meet once more I
IV.
See the smoke, how the lightning is clearing asunder I
Hark the guns, peal on peal, how they boom in their
thunder !
From host to host, with kindling sound,
The shouting signal circles round ;
Aye, shout it forth to life or death—
Ergfif already breathes the breath I
The war is waging, slaughter raging,
And heavy through the jieeking pall
The iron death-dice fall I
V.
I
'■^kfc«v
Nearer they close— foes upon foes
'• Ready !»— from square to square it goes.
Down on the knee they sank,
And the fire comes sharp on the foremost rank ;
^ Many a man to the earth is sent,
\\yi\. Many a gap by the balls is rent—
I O'er the^col-pse befores springs the
bpse befor^ springs the hinder man, H^o^a*
the Hue may not fail to the fearless van. iii^-^^
T
D(
G
0^
Br
In
The
Ant
Anc
t. Stui
"W
As t
"I'll
Hoi
Vug
Sleej
Thef
Hithe
Dark
Broth
Intht
Hark i
The a(
The he
Their t
Theter
And th<
Closed i
And the
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
God's sunlight is a«l . T- "'^"^^ ^'"""^
Brothera, God grant wbea thfs lifet o'er ' '^
I»tte„fe.ooo„ethatweo,eet™:°::;,
«75
And the feet, as they reehW anH ,r ' . ^h^"^
I^. give t,, oharlL %T.i^te ^ " '^''-"'-SA )
Brothe » God grant when this life i, o'er
I"theMet„„omethatwen,eetonoeJo;e,
vn.
Hark to the hoofs that galloping go I „^.,'r
The adjutants flying— '^ « « ' '*'«'
The horsemen press hard on the panting foe A j r*
Their thunder booms in dying- ' ^"^^
The terror has seized on lelZLds all, 1^
And their colors fall I ' ^
Closed in th^ hv,„.f ^c j.j. , . ^
An,! *k J "' "'^ glorious fiffht «Lt.
^°d tbo day, ,»e a c„n,„eror, burst ^i^e nigH
m
THB SIXTH READER.
tt»wa»L
Trumpet and fife swelling choral along,
The triumph already swuepw marching in song.
Farewell, fallen brothers, though this life be o'er.
There's another in which we shall meet you one..' more f
80. BEFORE VICKSBUHG.
["Hbad-Quartbrb 16th Armt Corps, }
.. m . ,, "Camp on Bio Bliok Bivbr, Aujruat 8. 1868 {
" To the Son. Secretary of War .—
fJ?!"J~^**1''^!!.'"l""*^ °' "'''"^ *^™"S'^ y""^^'^'^* something bo dona
S h i^ °f™«'l Orion P. Howe, of Waukegan, Illi;.oi8, who belong, to tJ
66th minols, but at present at home wounded. I think he is too younc for
West PolDt, but would be the very thing for a midshipman.
" men the assault at Vlcksburg was at its height, on the 19th of May and
I wo* In front near the road, which formed my lino of attack, this young lad
came up to me, wounded and bleeding, with a good, healthy boy's cry
General Sherman, send some cartridges to Colonel Mahnborg: the men are
nearlyaUouf 'What is the matter, my boy?' 'They shot me in rC
Blr; but I can go to the hospital Send the cartridges right away' Even
Where we stood the shot fell thick, and I told him to go to the rear at once I
would attend to the cartridges; and off he llmp«d. Just before he dieap-
peared on the hill, he turned, and called, as loud as he could. 'CaUbre .54 ' 1
have not seen the lad since, and his colonel (Malmborg), on Inquiry gives me
zzz:::::" ^" ^^- " '- ^ ^•^^'^^ '--"-- ^- -- -- p-
"What arrested my attention then waa-and what renewed my memorr
of the fact now Is-that one so young, carrying a musket-baU through hi
leg, should have found his way to me on that fatal spot, and delivered his
message, not forgetting the very important part, even, of the calibre of his
musket,— 54,— which, you know, is an unusual one.
"I'U warrant that the boy has in him the elements of a man, and I com-
mend him to the Government aa one worthy the fostering care of some one
•f its national institutions.
" I am, with respect, your obedient servant,
" W. T. SHERMAN, Mcy or- General Oommandinf, 'J
TTTHILE Sherman stood beneath the hottest fir*
" ' That from the lines of Vicksburg gleamed,
And bomb-shells tumbled in their smoky gyre,
And grape-shot hissed, and case-shot screamed ;
Back from the front there came,
O'lemjan cried "Haifr ^ 4)»Hvu
Who are you? Sn\ ^^'^ ' ^^-ont face I //J
Adu,mrner,8,r:^Fiftv-fifthI,,in„i,,'
«. "Arc you rmt hit?" '«Thnf»
And the foe press „s." "h,,, , , ',
"Don't „,i„d „„, j,,.j ""'■■">■ I"* friend-..
^ut you ?" '< n T „, „ '*'^ •
0.. I shall easily find the rear-
A '< T>I1 '«=oi.
•• IJl see to that." cripH Qh
^ tl.e boy, toiling t„„,rds .he hiir,' . ,
T«me round, .„d „i.h his .hri ehM^ "•
Stooted, "0, don't forget, "^
B«t let o„r soldiers have some L •
Moro cartridges, air,-„a,ihreflft;rjr,»
M. THE ALABM-APan, 19 177,
^ '""^'^ .ttovuiage, ti.e .ea .o-^ tror't':'
■^
478
THE 8IXTH READKB.
plains to the h.^'hlands ; and it was never siiflurod to dr„on
till »t had been borne North, and South, and East, and WchL
throughout the land. ^
2. It sprrad over the bays that receive the Saco and thf
Penobscot. Its loud reveille broke the rest of the tranporH
of New Hampshire, and ringing like bugle-notes from pVak
o peak ovcrleapt the Green Mountains, swept onward to
Montreal, and descended the ocean river, till the responHos
were echoed from the cliffs of Quebec. The hills alontf the
Hudson told to one another the tale.
8. As the summons hurried to the South, it was one day at
New York ; in one more at Philadelphia ; the next it lighted a
watch-fire at Baltimore ; thence it waked an answer at A»n,u>
ohs. Crossing the Potomac near Mount Vernon, it was s.-nt
forward without a halt to Willian.sburg. It traversed the
Dismal Swamp to Nanseraond, along the route of the first
emigrants to North Carolina.
4. It moved onwards and still onwards through boundl.Hs
groves of evergreen to Newbern and to Wilmington. "For
God s sake, forward it by night and by day," wrote Cornch'..H
r^ Harnett, by the express which s^pedjbr Brunswick. Putriotn
^ of South Carolina caught up its tones at the border and di«.
patched ,t to Charleston, and through pines and ^almettoH
and moss-clad live oaks, further to the South, till it resounded
among the New England settlements beyond the Savuruiah
6. Hillsborough and the Mecklenburg district of North
Carolina rose in triumph, now that their wearisome i.ncor-
tainty had its end. The Blue Ridge took up the voice and
made it heard from one end to the other of the valley of Vir-
gmia. The AUeghanies, as they listened, opened their bur-
tiers that the "loud call" might pass through to the hardy
riflemen on the Holston, the Watauga and the French Broad,
6. Ever renewing its strength, powerml enough even to
create a commonwealth, it breathed its inspiring word to the
fir^t settlers of Kentucky ; so that the hunters who made
their halt in the matchless valley of Elkhorn commemorated
the ni
Lixinq:
1. W
•pirit tl
the ex I
'Libert
•'^ (
On tl
Hard
Who
I He sa
Bylai
Hang
Of the
One if
And I
Ready
Throug
For the
I. Then he
Silently
Just as
Where t
The SoiE
A phant
Across tl
And a hi
By its oy
^^^*
S^"^^
Ihe niiri loentb day of Anril i
'be «tr™, .vm,ti»wu '! . ."''r''''''''''■•■''''yf'''
'Libert7„rde»tl,I.. "" ''°°" ">• wnlinent cried
fiAMCBorr
M. PAUL RETERE-S HIDE
LZ^^: "'J'/hiMr.n, a„d y„„ ,h„„ t,„
Whoa.™„.be™thatfa™„„«daya„d,..,
> He said to his friend—" if .1, n ■ • .
B. '.nd or eea fro™ .tj„'^/;r "'"''''
Hang«k„ter„.aW.^„thebelfrJrch
Th ough every Middlesex village and f.r„
For.heco„„try.fo,ketobe„pLdtoa:™;
Wh ^"°° '"«« °^«^ the bay
'■ ^r;'^"^' '^'•^ «-d, through alW „,.,-._ .
^'^ndea^ and watches witheagerea^f """"
r
y.
^^
■||
4«0
THE SIXTH READER.
Till in the silence around him he hears
U'M-. The muster of men at the barrack-door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers
Marching down to their boats on the shore.
5, Tlien he ch'mbed to the tower of the church,
\\*A
(fWc-jlj-ti.
Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And s^tartled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made cA>^^v>i'4
Masses and movmg shapes of shade, —
Up the light ladder, slender and tall,
To the highest window in the wall.
Where he paused to listen and look dowu
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing ovar all.
«. Beneath, in the church-yard, lay the dead
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still.
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread.
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent.
And seeming to whisper, "All is well I"
A moment only he feels the spell f k«,xjw\ftj>
Of the place and the hour, the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead ;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away.
Where the river widens to meet the bay,
A line of black, that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boata,
t Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride.
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride.
On
No^
Nov
Thei
And
But;
The]
As it
Lone]
8. And 1
A glir
He sp
But lii
A seco
9. A hurr'
A shap
And be
Struck
That wi
The fate
And the
Kindled
10. It was t^
When he
He hearc
And the I
And felt t
That risee
n. It wpc one
When he i
He saw thi
Swim in tb
And the tm
Cfaze at hin
». A hurry of hoofs in a villag-e-street
A shape in the raoonlio-ht ! ,'''*' ^,
And beneath from the pbWe""''.'^''^'^'
That ™es when the s™ goes doJ;
When he rede into Lexington.
H« «aw the gilded weathercock
-- •neinoufcing-ijouse Window. -
G"- »t him with a spect,:,X " '°'' '""'•
21
4S2
THE SIXTH READEK.
As if thoy already stood a<yhast tV'-^^
At the bloody work they would look upon.
13. It w,"s two by the village-clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock, /^h/\^
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning-breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.
Ali^
i\^U'
18. You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British regulars fired and fled, — i tvW>>
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind eact^ fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Cnder the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.
14. So through the night rode Paul Revere ;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm, —
A cry of defiance, and not of fear, —
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore 1
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed.
And the midnight-mcBsage of Paul Revere.
• LONOFKLLOV.
88. MA(
CET up
^ inouni
n'^r the se
watch stn
fe the ca
fifties, and
and cause
waters; fo
rods are b
heen turnec
2. Heave
the mighty
the valiant
the mighty
which turne
Reformation
loveliness, ai
3. Well it
helmet, and i
with the chi
the promise;
and self-seeki
for the curse
Aleroz, becauj
tlie mighty.
*• Up, then,
upon scaffolds
'I'hich lie whit
I'Ution; the gi
"^^ the sea, a
place, cry for ,
t'«"8, ehelterin]
Bwordfi of thoii
^•th cold lack
'OBENsio AM ivmc^r,.
488
w».oh strong, sharpen the a, ro,v^ 7° ■?'"''' ""' ">^'"' "'« /, ,
y tl.e captains of th„„aa„dT^ '"'""'' "'» «''-olds, „an« f^
«f«e., and „f tens ,- caH t e 'f»t, ,2 ',"" "V"""'"''' "<
""i cause the horsemen to come „I ) t I '""'""» "^ "'"<'».
"■"ters ; for the passa.^es of Ta '^ "'" """"^ "f ""'ny
rods are b„„ed,'and X fa JT^"^ "^ ^"'PP"-'. '"eir
l-een turned to flight ""' "'^° "f '""tie hath
the .aliant Maccabeus leXr? ^T '" "' "■" '»'■'■■' of
the ■"'W'tySa.nson,- lerrmn'TT h"' " "'« '-'^ »'
which turned not back fiiZ , T'** "' """ "^ «««'"".
Reformation is spread a ro"d ^ "' "' ''"'' ">» "-"er o
'oveliness, and the gates o hd, s a, ! T""'"''" "'" "^ «"'
^ 3. Well is he.this day that „ ? ""''"" "«'""'' 't. ,,
ketaet, and sell ilis gaS t a 1 'T" '''' ''°"'"' '"'■ => '^'^^
with the children ofV Co^att T ' ""' "^' '" '"= '<"
the promise; and woe wo. ' , h- ' '" "'" ''"'"""ig of
.nd .elf-seeking, shall tirhM "hL :;■ ;'»' ,f ' -- c^ds
for the ourse shall abide with I " ""^ S''^"' "-o't;
Meroz, because he came a^ to"' ^'" "" '"'"" "™^ °'
tl.e mighty. "' ■"" '" *>"' 'x'lP of the Lord against
^~^::. :ix:tf;z:::' :: :--■ -*•- f^^--
*l"cli l,e whitening in the hi„h ' ''""''^ "' >»i"t8, I '
'•""""i the groans of int.ceMr';"'''™ "'^^"'"8 ^or retril '
»' the sea, and from tCd '"'™ '^''"" ''^"'"te isle,
Pl-e. cry for deliy anc t e T" "' '"" ''™°''^ "'^^
"a™, eholtering thomselvL t d """ " P""""""^^" «-^-
I !
^84
THE SIXTH READKR.
^A*--'
they senre God rather than man,— all are with you pleading,
watching, knocking, storming the gates of Heaven in your
behalf,
6. Heaven itself shall fight for you, as the stars in tlioit
courses fought against Sisera. Then, -w^h^o wil) deserve
immortal fame in this world, and eternal Wppiness in that
which is to come, let them enter into God's service, and take
"l i^Ij!®? ** *he hand of the servant, — a blessing, namely, upon
him and his household, and his children, to the ninth genera-
tion, — even the blessing of the promise, forever and ever.
Scott.
34 SPANISH WAR SONG
^ I.
KjUAJa^t- "pLING forth the proud banner of Leon again;
J- Let the watchword, Castile, go resounding through
Spain !
And thou, free Asturias, encamped on the height,
Pour down thy dark sons to the vintage of fight ; ^*A^^>'^^*-
Wake I wake 1 the old soil where our warriors repose
Rings hoiIow and deep to the trampling foes. t'Uv^
n.
The voices are mighty that swell from the past,
With Aragon's cry on the shrill mountain blast;
The ancient Sierras give strength to our tread.
Their pines murmur song where bright blood hath been
shed.
Fliujj forth the proud banner of Leon again,
And shout ye, "Castile 1 to the rescue for Spain 1"
r
FT h
in^
with t
known
^kad d
ttt^*"' toiterei
palace
2. T]
the deY
the dai
It was
young s
dreamy
weary i
beach, a
ftas depa
3. Inl
Iters wej
the agon;
battle yei
Jn the rai(
4. "Ye
for twelve
man or b(
and yet i
among yoi
hiawl, my
say it. If
tfie bloody
5. "Yet,
«fiief of sa
feared gvei
offf'nng.p, Qf
woks and oi
'OBEKSIO AMD JUDICIAL
r
486
85. SPARTACUS TO THF nr a T^r .
FT h^ri u GLADIATORS
f 4 X- .ti: ':;r t?^-- '--- —•
f»o" even in that i,ZJ^^ "Z"f"' '''"«'° -
_ Ud d,ed away; ,be ^o.r oUhTlLnl!/ "''/ "''"^
t»»- '"'tefw had retired from the h! ? ''''""'«' ! ""e last
paw tbe v.tor wer^eX^:*- ^^ *« "^'■'^ -o tbo
the dark waters of Voltunltfr'" ''•'"'''"'■ """I ''PP^'i
I' ™ a „,.,,. „, ,„,;"™ ; h wavy, .,„,„„, ,,j;,^_
joungspring leaves, and wbisi^er.! f'^'' '"ays the
dreamy music. No onnd wa ^11.7? f" '^""^ ''""^ "'
weaty wave, telling its sZ fo ,"""=''"' ^'""'f «°™
heach, and then alf „as stui as ^ "'""'"' """"^ »' '"«
"as departed. "' ""^ "»'" -ien the spirit
..ot telt^oroTdeTCIbfr «■-""""*-'- a band of g,ad,.
'he agony of conflict, th^f„am~' „„,:'"?' ""' '"'°«^<' -'h
tattle yet lingering iponZr ;'!:''%""' '"^ ^"™' »'
=" the midst of that grim assemll T ^Pa''t«ous, rising
*■ "Te call me chiff Id v"^ .,*"' '"'''™*"' »■«» :
for twelve long ye.:Cj:t;:tT' ""' °'""' ^'^'^
»an or beast that the broad emp.'e of 7"" "T '"""^ "'
a-d yet never has lowered h s arm aT. 7" '"'•'"'^''•
among you who can sw th„t , "^ '' *"'« he one
".awl, my actions did Zi^lT'' '" ?""" "«"' " ?"'«'»
"ay it. If there bo thr^S J, v^"!'. " '""' '""> """'M-d
"- hloody sand, let them come 'onT' °"^''*" ''''"' ^ ™
eh5"J:!;JagTme°:' "fc""' "^^^^ ^°'"'-. '^ --ge
feared great Jnpfe .^!lT\r * ^^""'="' "»"• "ho
o(R.ri„„..„<-^_..,/ !'*'"' '"""ght to the rural d"i,;.. 1,^-
-— a-- -1 imits and flowera H^ A 1^ '" "'^° f'M
»*- Olive groves aet:er::ro;tr:r-::--
JU«
.VL-
W 4*^^
t
^a(i^
^
*^^ THE SIXTH RfiADBB.
ran quiet a8 the brook by which I HflcXd. I was taught to
prune the vme, to tend the flock; and then, at noon, I gathered
my sheep beneath the shade, and ph^yed upon the shepherd'a
flute. I had a friend, the son of our neighbor; we led our
flocks to the same pasture, and shared together our rustic
.11^' "?°f r^°'"^' ^^^'' *^'^ '^'^P "^^'^ *''^'d«d. and we were
all seated beneath the myrtle that shaded our cottage my
grandsire, an old man, was telling of Marathon and Leu'ctra
doi T;/" '"''""' *™''' " ""'^ ^^"d «f Spartans, in a
defile of the mountains, withstood a whole army. I did not
then know what war meant; but my cheeks burned, I knew
not why; and I damped the knees of that venerable man tlH
my n^other parting the hair from off my brow, kissed 'my
throbbing temples, and bade me go to rest, and think no more
of those old tales and savage wars.
7 "That very night the-Romans landed on our shore, and the
clash of steel was heard within our quiet vale. I saw the
breast that had nourished me,trampled by the iron hoof of the
war-horse; the bleeding body of my father flung amid th
K'-^ blazing rafters of our dwelling, h^, d. U>t
8. " To-day I killed a man in the arena, and when I broke
{ i^ ^''.^'fl'' " '^^P^' ^«^«ld I it was my friend 1 He knew me -
thT 1 f^r^^'T^r*^'— d died. The same sweet sniile
that I had marked upon his face, when, in adventurous boy-
hood we scaled some lofty cliff to pluck the first ripe grapes,
and bear them home in childish triumph. ^ & t- »
.n^'T"K *''^*^.' ^x'**"' ''" """' ^y ^"^^^' ^«ble and brave.
and I begged ^,s body, that I might burn it upon the funeral-'
pile, and mourn over it. Ay, on my knees, amid the dust and
blood of t.e arena, I begged that boon, while all the Eoman
maids and matrons, and those holy virgins they call vestal,
and the rabble, shouted in mockery, deeming it rare sport,
foisooth, to see Rome's fiercest gladiator turn pale, and tremble
hke a very child, before that piece of bleeding clay; but the
ui..„ „„,^ „g I, ^ ^.j,j.g poiiutn^i,^ ami sternly said,
r^
If
10.
Rom£,
helple
look-
where
you, ai
1]. '
Ay, th(
who ne
iron, a
through
marrow
fierce J^
laughing
Tiber is
I'lood lie,
12. "1
of brass
Koman A
fihall com
ders, and
ye yon li
tasted mej
flesh; and
13. "If
for the but
yon sen tin
bloody wor
dead ? Ig ,
do crouch
M masters la
I must fight,
'et us slauj
uuder the op
battle."
A£iD JUDICIAL.
487
/xv^
10 "«rof +1. ****
• L<et the carrion roi f tj
Kora.ns r 4„d he, doprivod „7, " ■"■" °° "<"'lo men bat
'ook-and ,„„k_„„, ,„4 _"'^«; f at .,„gg,„, ,i ^
-"ere d,vell hia anoesto™ and " , L' ^'^ ^'^''''•' "'^W"
you and so naust I. die like 2ts T """"■"'• ^'"' - «-.
^J. "0 Eome 1 Romp 1 t\ t
»t« "ever knew a har«l,erl'r'.,r «'''''''' ^'"•■"'-'^ 'H
, ™, and a leart of flint ta„ J "h " ^'"""'"^' '"™'='<'« " J
»- through rugged brass and plaS ", '" ""'"' '"o »-ord .„ |
i^ inarr„„ of his f„e, to „1 f-^i?-"^- »»■'- ""d warm it in tho 5,>'^l
fierce N„„Mi,„ ,L , 41"? ""^ ,!"'™^ ^^'""Ils oJ tte ""^ *
i-Shins: gir,. And'he sha patt;: "l f 1 ""^ "P- »
T'ber ,s red as frotlnog wine a^!f- , . ''^'"" "'yye'W
Wood lies curdled I ^^ '"' '"'' "' "» <l«pe.st „o==e tly- lif,.
12. "Ye stand hern .,„„i-, . '^"^
"f "-- « in ,o„r ; ;i, t; !::::- - ^^ -e' '^e strength ^.
Koman Adoni,, breatl.in^ sweet 1 V'" '°'""""»' «»»« ^
^"all come, and with m^L^?" f"'" ''- -'rl^ ,„ets,
"era. and bet his sesterces npoTvI?'^"/""'' ^'"-"^ "honl- \rfi
yeyo„,i„,,„„i"P-yn blood. Hark, Hear "^
astedmeat; but to-morrow he LlH , ?° ""^'^ "'■'"^« >"«
'» % "..tre;:\X7:; r -- ^^^^^ U o.en waiting
yon sentinel, and gaiL th^runtS °"'°^-' ""■"="»""
Woody work as did your sires at Inn"^"''""' ^'"' "'ere do
*-'ad f Is the old Grecian slit .f/^'=.™'W'- ' h Sparta
«" croueb and cower likeCet'"" '," ^""^ ™"'^' "at ^0,.^,
'-l-".aste>s lash? ^ I, comrade, r™ ''"'"'■ ''^"eatl. your ---te
I ■""«* %!.(, let 08 fight for ?"'"'■• ' ''■''■■''-"■»"» I if we
'et - slaughter our"ssr '"' ""'"""' ''""*'""
iSS
THE SIXTH READER.
86. THE BATTLE HYMN.
I.
■pATHER of earth and Heaven I I call thy name I
•*■ Round me the smoke and shout of battle roll- e-,
My eyes are dazzled with the rustling flame ; 'u^
father, sustain an untried soldier's soul
Or life, or death, whatever be the goal <C
That crowns or closes round this struggling hour,
Thou knowest, if ever from my spirit stole W^
One deeper prayer, 'twas that no cloud might lower
On my young fame 1-0 hear I God of eternal power I
n.
G-d ! thou art merciful 1 The wintry storm,
The cloud that pours the thunder from its womb
But show the sterner grandeur of thy form ; J^:
The lightnings, glancing through the midnight gloom,
lo Faith's raised eye, as calm, as lovely come
As splendors of the autumnal evening star,
As roses shaken by the breeze's plume, '
When,like cool incensojcomes the dewy air.
And on the golden wave the sunset burns Ifar.
m.
3od I thou art mighty I At thy footstool bound,
Lie gazing to thee. Chance, and Life, and Death j
Nor in the Angel-circle flaming round.
Nor in the million worlds that blaze beneath,
Is one that can withstand thy wrath's hot breath.
i^^-^ Woe,in thy frown— in thy sraile,victory |
- Hear my last prayer i I ank no mortal wreath : ,,' s
i
Let b
Then
Now f
ForT
Glorioi.
The
They
On thei
ThinJ
Earth c
This hoi
pn the t
battle of Fl
with great a
mion," says
days of Hon
comparable :
cence of effe
B
'OBENSIC ASL JUDICIAL.
Let but these eves mv r« j
Tl^en take my sp^t L O " '"''''''' ''''
y mm, All Omnipotent, to theo.
489
''zzzit'^-'iC' "i' -""- "-'- '-^h
G'"Ho»s the .^ZZT.'JCT- "".' *""• "-> ««'
The volley's roll .h. .' . ' "'''^'' "' '<^h
The. .haU^; t ;?::: r; """ ■• ^- '"^-^
On them, hussars f Now P-flir "^"^'^^ '^^^^^.^
^ T. KdBNXB.
87. FLODDEN PIELP
'''fP^ZTSi^^^^^^ Which Scott describes th.
w th great slaughter th; S olch Lord r' T'' "^^ ^"--^ °* Surre^ deLL
Th« . ^ *°® ^^y was spent^
The western sunbeams now were ben » L
The cry they heard, its meaningLet'
a Sadly to Blount did Eustace say
Unworthy office here to stly I
No hope of gilded spurs to-day ^
But see i look up-on Flodden bent ^"^"^
The Scottish foe has fired his ten «
And sudd
From the
en.
sharp rid
as he spoke,
g-es of the hill, ,!^
21*
t90
THE SIXTH REAOGB.
^.^xtj
(\A>MAi'»«
^ (A ^(l.\
tiwi-^'^'^
jlMw
'-uJl
All downward to the banks of Till,
Was wreathed in aable smoke.
Volumed and fast, and rolling far,
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war,
As down the hill they broke ;
Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone,
Announced their march ; their tread alone,
At times one warning trumpet blown,
At times a stifled hum, J«i^l\'c
Told England, from his mountain-throne
King James did rushing come.
Scarce could they hear or see their foes.
Until at weapon-point they close.
They close, in clouds of smoke and dust,
With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust ;
And such a yell was there.
Of sudden and portentous birth.
As if men fought upon the earth,
And fiends in upper air ;
life and death were in the shout,
Recoil and rally, charge and rout, ^Ar-^T
And triumph and despair.
5. Long look'd the anxious squires ; their eye
Could in the darkness naught descry. Mt*. )u<lV^Al.u
At length the freshening western blast,
Aside^the shroud of battle cast ;
And, first, the ridge of mingled spears
Above the brightening cloud appears j
And in the smoke the pennons flew.
As in the storm the white sea-mew. vwotNj.<fc-
6. Then mark'd they, dashing broad and far,
The broken billows of the war, Vh^w/
And plumed crests of chieftains brave,
Floating like foam upon the wave ;
But naught distinct they see.
Wide raged the battle on the plain ;
VVjVu
U.v»l>-«-^, (
7. ]
'I
B
A
A
"I
W
Tl
IfcU
r
8.
hfcoT
j'.").'-..
W
Th
Aj
Ad
As
Wh
». No
Fitz
May
And
Folio
10 The i
Made
1
FORKKaiO AMD JUDICIAL.
f<l
i«^
^^ Fell E..tvi,„j., arrow-IliH-ht like ruin ; -—
^- Ores s. -use, und «toop'd, and rose again
Wild and disorderly.
». Far on ti.e left, unseen the while,
fetanley broke Lennox and Argyle •
riiough there the western mountaineer
Kiished with bare bosom on the spear \L
And iiung- the feeble targe aside,' • " ^
And with both hands the broadsword phed,
Twas vain :--But Fortune, on the nvJt,
' 8 Th ^"u . ""''"• "''^''-'^^'^ Scotland's tight
8. Then fell that spotless banner white,
The Howard's lion fell ;
Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew
Around the battle-yell. ^..J^
Ihe Border slogan rent the sky
A Home I a Gordon I was the cry
Loud were the changing blows ; ..,..,
Advanced.-forced back,-now low, now high
1 he pennon sunk and rose- / i
As beuds the bark's mast in the'gale "'*'""
When rent are rigging, shrouds, and 'sail, ...
It wavered 'mid the foes.
9. No longer Blount the view could bear:
'' ^^ Heaven and all its saints I I swear
1 will not see ii lost I
Fitz Eustace, you, with Lady Clare
May bid your beads, and patter prayer,- ^u'.u:^ vOr
i gallop to the host."
And to the fray he rode amain, , , * ,v
Followed by all the archer train ^^^
10. The fie^ry youth, with desperate charge,
Made, xor a space, an opening large,—
The rescued banner rcie,—
4dl
'<\AikX»«>/'~-~
*^2 THE SIXTH KEADEH.
But darW/ Closed the war around,
Like pine-Utio, (..ut-^ from the ground,
It sank among .'ho foes.
Then Eustace mounted too ;— yet staid,
As loath to leave the helpless maid, ; -JvyiT
When, fast as shaft can fly, d.^^
11. Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread,
The loose rein dangling from his head,
Housing and saddle bloody red,
Lord Marmion's steed rushed by ; Uuaa^
And Eustace, maddening at the sight,
A look and sign to Clara cast, i'Ak
To mark he would return in haste.
Then plunged into the fight.
IS. A I me not what the maiden feels.
Left in that dreadful hour alone :
Perchance her reason stoops, or reels |
Perchance a courage, not her own
Braces her mind to desperate tone.
The scatter'd van of England's wheels ;- ^.«^>. .
She only said, as loud in air '
The tumult roar'd, "Is Wilton there?"—
They fly, or, raadden'd by despair.
Fight but to die,—" Is Wilton there ?" g^nt.
YM
y^
\iv
h
^
»v
88. FLODDEN FIELD— (CtoNCLUDBlV
TiyiTH that, Gtraight up the hill there rode, ) .
^ ▼ Two horsemen drench'd with gore, j.^., W-
And in their arms;. - helpless load, r!' ^
A wounded kn ^t they bore.
His hand still strala'i / .-■. . ror."i brand •
His arms were smc^cM v. .U. • iood and <^lnd: ^mi'^>
Dragg'd from amon(- the j -rses' feet,
witk dinted shield, and helmet beat,
N^
'CK^-
.y'
FOKENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
». Can tlmt, bo hu„irhty Murr„i„n I-
When clofT'd IHH cuaquo, b. felt free air. >;:
Around 'gun Marmion wildly sture :- L.a IX
•Where's Hury RIount? Fitz Eustace wherof
Ln ger ye here, ye h.arts of hare I ,,Z
Redeem „,;pennon.-charge again I
^ry- Ai . ;.iion to the rescue I'-vain I
•Last of my race, on battle-plain
- That shout shall ne'er be heard again I-
». Yet my last thought is England's-fly
To Dacre bear my signet-ring: *
Tell him his squadrons up to brinir.
Fitz Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie; %W
runstall hes dead upon the field
Hishfe-blood stains the spotless shield:
Edmund >s down .-my life is reft; vi^ hhS.
ine Admiral alone is left. — ' f ^
^ ^^* Stanley charge with spur of fJrp
With Chester charge and rnealht;" '^^^
^ull upon Scotland's central host
Or victory and England '8 lost.
4. Must I bid twice ?-hence, varlets I fly | ,., . , ^
Leave Marmion here, alone-to die r
ihey parted, and alone he lay.
Clare drew her from :ne sight 'away,
'11 pam^..ug forth a lowly moan.
And half he murmured,-- Is there none
Of all my halls have nurst
Page squire, or groom, one cup to bring
Of blessed water from the spring
To slake my dying thirst !»
<>. O, woman I in oar hours of ease
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please. K^
"fid variable as the shade
• By the light quivering aspen made j ti,^^
498
«/\-
\'
^Arr'rfx^
iU
THE SIXTH READER.
Cai5,»n<^
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou I—
6. Scarce were the piteous accents said
When, with the Baron's casque, the maid
To the nigh streamlet ran :
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears;
The plamtive voice alone she hears,
Sees but the dying man.
1 She fill'd the helm, and back she hied, ^l^^
And with surprise and joy espied
A monk supporting Marmion's head;
A pious man whom duty brought
To dubious verge of battle fought,
I ; mu^° "^'''""^ *''^ ^^'''S, bless the dead.
8. Ihe war, that for a space did fail,
Now trebly thundering swelPd the gale, ; %f:
And— Stanley I was the cry ;— '\
A light on Marmion's visage spread,
And fired his glazing eye :
9. With dying hand, above his head,
He shook the fragment of his blade, ^*.^
And shouted, " Victory 1—
Charge Chescer, char^, 1 On, Stanley, on P
Were the last words of Marmion.
By this, though deep the evening fell
Still rose the battle's deadly swell, .' V^^
For still the Scots, around their king '
Unbroken, fought in desperate, ring. 'j^S^
10. The English shafts in volleys hail'd, k,^^
In headlong charge their horse assail'd
Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep.
To break the Scottish circle deep,
That fought around their king
But yet, though thick the shafts as'snow,/^.:^
Ihough charging knights like whirWin^^ j-g
L<uU. Though billmen ply the ghastly blow, '" ^ '
Unbroken was the ring ; (j^^^ '
'0 '. f-l.
''.VI Wt
FOEENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
II. The stubborn spearmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,
Each stepping where his comrade stood,
The instant that he fell.
No thought was there of dastard flight • lo c..
Lmk'd in the serried phalanx tight, ^Uu
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight
As fearlessly and well • '
Till utter darkness closed her wing
O'er their thin host and wounded kins
12. Then skilful Surrey's sage commands
Led back from strife his shattered bands ;
And from the charge they drew,
As mountain-waves, from wasted lands,
Sweep back to ocean blue.
Then did their loss his foemen know
Their king, their lords, their mightiest, low.
Ihey melted from the field as snow.
When streams are swoln, and south winds Wow
Dissolves in silent dew. '
18. Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash.
While many a broken band,
Disorder'd, through her cunents'dash.
To gain the Scottish land j
To town and tower, to down and dale,
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale.
And raise the universal wail.
Tradition, legend, time and song.
Shall many an age that wail prolong-
Still.from the sire^the son shall hear *
Of the stern strife and carnage drear
Of Flodden's fatal field.
Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear,
And broken was her shield.
m
'f\^<j>^k4A^
fiWu.
*«'Jl
hIJiu
SOOTT
i96
THE SIXTH READER.
89. EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDBN
jyEWS of battle I— news of battle 1
Hark I 'tis ringing down the street;
And the archways and the pavement
Bear the clang of hurrying feet.
News of battle I— who hath brought it?
News of triumph I— who should bring
Tidings from our noble army,
Greetings from our gallant king?
8. All last night we watched the beacons t^^
Blazing on the hills afar,
Each one bearing, as it kindled,
Message of the opened war.
All night long, the northern streamers
Shot across the trembling sky:
Fearful lights, that never beacon*
Save when kings or heroes die.
8. News of battle I— who hath brought it?
All are thronging to the gate ; ^p^
Warder— warder I open quickly 1 I
Man— is this a time to wait?"
And the heavy gates are opened :
Then a murmur long and loud,
And a cry of fear and wonder,
Bursts from out the bending crowd.
4. For they see in battered harness
Only one hard-stricken man ;
And his WPnrv ai-aa/t in J 1
1 ' — J •••••• "3 MuuHuca,
And his cheek is pale and wan : \^,^
6 £
W
6. Li
Bu
Ch
I
Fai
c
7. "B;
T
The
A
The
B
The
T(
8. Ther
H]
And
Th
t-break*
turgh.]
6
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
Spearless hangs a bloody banner
In his weak and droopin- hand- ', 'jrf-^
Godl can that be Randolph Murray,
Captain of the city band ?
Round him crush the people, crying
"Tell us all-0, tell us true I
Where are they who went to battle
Randolph Murray, sworn to you? '
Where are they, our brothers-children —
Have Uiey met the English foe ? '
Why art thou alone, unfollowed f
In it wual or is it woe?
Like a corpse the grisly warrior U^^
Looks from out his helm of steel ;
But no word he speaks in answer—'
Only with his armed heel i^*v^
(jv^.i<x. Chides his weary steed, and onward
Up the city streets they ride •
Fathers, sisters, mothers, children,
Shrieking, praying by his side.'
t. "By the God that made thee, Randolph!
Tell us what mischance hath come."
Then he lifts his riven banner,
And the asker's voice is dumb.
The elders of the city
Have met within their hall—
The men whom good King James had charged
lo watch the tower and wall.
8. Then in came Randolph Murray,—
His step was slow and weak,
And as he doffed his dinted helm, .<
The tears ran down his cheek :
497
i98
9.
THE SIXTH BEADBE.
They fell upon his corselet,
Aud on his mailed hand,
As he gazed around him wistfully, ^t5«bi
Leaning sorely on his brand. ){^,i^ .3^,
And none who then beheld him
But straight were smote with fearj
For a bolder and a sterner man
Had never couched a spear. (^ i,^
Ay! ye may well look upon it-
There is more than honor there,
Else be sure, I had not brought it
From the field of dark despair.
10. Never yet was royal banner
Steeped in such a costly dye; ^m>^
It hath lain upon a bosom
Where no other shroud shall lie. ^ *-^'^'^'
Sirs 1 I charge you, keep it holy.
Keep it as a sacred thing.
For the stain ye see upon it
Was the life-blood of y6ur king I
11. Woe, woe, and lainentation I
What a piteous <;ry was there I
Widows, maidens, mothers, children,
Shrieking, sobbing in despair ! ' .^
Through the streets the death-word rushee,
Spreading terror, sweeping on—
Jesu Christ ! Our king has fallen ;
0, great God I King James is gone !
12. Holy Mother Mary, shield us !
Thou, who erst didst lose thy Son I
Oh, the blackest day for Scotland
That she ever knew before I
18
F0E5NSIC AND JUDICIAL. •
Oh our king_the good, the noble,
bhall we see him never more?
Woe to us, and woe to Scotland,
Oh our sons, our sons and men I
Surely some have 'scaped the Southron.
Surely some will come again,
TUl the oak that fell last winter
bhall uprear its shattered stem-
Wives and mothers, Dunedin,
Ye may look in vain for them !
William Edmosbsiouwb Attoub.
499
40. THE LWHT BRIGADE.
^^'ofZTur^ZZT.:^^^^^ desperate Car^e^ade . ...
the order to charge' wo. X unlr a ^hta^'r ''f " ^ ^^^^^^^ "-*
J known, a« Captain NoL, who 'Ive ^1^1'' °' ""' "^"'''^^ '^^^-'^
flix hundred and thirty rushed to thl, ' """^ the first mar. who feU.
fifty -v.er returned.] *^' '^^'S''' ^'^'^ ^^^^ one hundred and
JJALP a league, half a league.
Half a ague onward.
All in the valley of Laath
Rode tJie six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brig, ^e I
Charge for the guns P he said:
Into the valley of Death
Eode the six hundred.
2. 'forward, the Light Brigade P
Was there a man dismay'd t l^
Not^tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd; C^
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,'
500
THE SIXTH READBa.
Theirs but to do and die :
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
8. Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley 'd and thunder'd :
Storm'd at, with shot and shell.
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death, ...^< U^.,
Into the mouth of Hell,
Rode the six hundred.
4. Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there.
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd :
Plunged in the battery-smoke.
Right thro' the line they broke }
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke.
Shattered and suuder'd.
Then they rode back, but not,
• Not the six hundred.
5. Cannon to right of them.
Cannon to left of them.
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd :
Storm'd at with shot and shell.
While horse and hero fell.
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
<V»A{4iu>L 'lU,/
fJl,
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
' When can their glory fade ?
Oh the wild charge they made I
All the world wonder'd
Honor the charge they made I
Honor the Light Brigade
Noble Six Hundred J
601
TamrTBOH.
41. THE CLAIMS OP ITALY.
T WILL leave antiquity out of ihr.
1 of nxHiern times. U Tnot T Tl "' ""' 'P^"'' <""y
Italy always give the si^na tl ho ^ ,? T'"''' *° -»
"V to great things f Thr&st? 7' ' "'"""^^ °P» «■»
ian-Da„te ; the first lyr c Lf t "'"''7","'"° P°'=' " "" Ital-
fi™t poet ol chivalry "s a„ nan " "^''"-P^'^^oh ; the
painter in the world is a„ Italia, rV ,7"'"" ' ""^ "i™'
a^y is an Italian-Michael A g oT^ft' : ' "« «"' «tat„.
man and historian of the reviv°,l ' t ^''""""' ^'"tes-
the first Philosophical hltoZ;: I, :r'''"V*'^"'""^"' '
coverer of the New World is an V»r n^~*"° ' "=« "«-
b»s; and the first demonstrator of I'T^''™'""''"' <'»'»"'■
worlds is an Italian-Gahko "' °'' "" '"''""^■"y
the'tel;"e:f/:t;erl^'r'T^T,^°" --- »'«P»'
■•« times nearer to our own t^, '"* """'"'y- Then
working at the c nt^, atil^f T^f ."" "'"'^ "»'-- ar.
^'^0" time .. time collet h r tr Tr' f""^' "^'^
tbe world . colossus surpassing a 1 1 ' '"' P™'"" «»
greatest of living art.sts-Z ' ■"'''" "»". «">
*hove the whole
cen-
503
THE SIXTH READER.
a guide 'or Vla7"'?T """ "■"=- ^™"''""» "»"'^<i
soil, aud a great man springs forth
I-
42. NAPOLEON TO THE ABMT Or ITALT.
nes, taken tweuty-one standards, fifty moco^ nf n.,
. several fortresses, n,ade fifteen hundr d priso e s andTn";
or wounded .ore than ten thousand .on 1 'ZTaVe e^ ^
the conquerors of Holland and the Rhine ^
wants" ''w^\"' '" "'^^'^^^'•^^^' ^'^" '-- -'PP'-d all your
Tt tid T""""' ^'" ^""^ ^'^'"^'d battles 1-with.
out bridges, you have crossed rivers l-withonf .h
ave n,ade forced ,„arches l-.m7LaXZ t^'J^
3. "Thanks to you, soldiers |_yo„r grateful country ha,
ties to %ht, towns to take, rivers to naas 7« ,h„
a».ong you whose courage is rela J? Tthere one Z
the: s:idt*;a,esr ' °" "^""""^ '"^ ™""» »'
«otte"of Mm"''"' '''.r' '""^ ™''"= *^ "■■="»■« »f Monte,
notte of M,lles,mo, of Dego, and of Mondovi I My friends 1
prom.se, you this glorious eonauest ; but be the lit -''-,' '
uot the scourges, of the people you subdue 1" ' "
rORENSIO AND JUDICIAI,.
tos
«. NAPOLEON TO THE SOLD,E,« AT FONTAINEBU.AD
..tempted to dflrr^ ^"''" •■""' ^"""S"' ''»'' •" --
powe:, z:r rtrsTv r""T"" '"^ ^'"^■<'
obligation of abdicati,,./. Lrr •- "''"'"' "'"'" '"'" "'"
tbrone of Prance, Z2C'Z"'°"""' '" ^^°"''"'''' ^"^ «>»
looked fo,. a n,;!!" ,I„'t " " """*■" ''" '"^""^y- "«
in the Court ofZ Jrand 1 r"'''"-''''' '" f"™ °f ""W'
»e%b.on„,ei«e. X' brd^^rdTorirtt/™" ''"
teat ! ::e'rd:;:'i":et'r°r ' f,' ''°"^' «- '"'«^. -<>
battles. If the d^:: t „: 11 J *-° =^'"""™ "f ™-.
*■ Napoleon, after a keen ma.finl „l «oneral.
and old troops, seemod Zu2 2tj^""-t ™ '"'» ^»"-^''''-
battles, of glory and power ,hN ,rt .f"" """y ''»''« "^
were those who confpol d t i ^ ^"""'^ '" ■""' ' Wi.ero
Africa, and Asia Xrt weT^" " ""P* «>™"«h Eoropa,
And yet those who rl^ td Te V^tl m" ^T',"*^' '"''^' ^
to separate himself from them live, ' "'" «""'^
woL'tb:7'H:;!we:.,'itr «■' ''"t "^ ^""' "" ^-^ -»«'
he lost all. For aZm " t hf ^ """':i ' *"' ™ '"""'^ *« «*"<>
'he palace. Then he dele, d/d t IT " H 'T "'""' ^^"'-
ll« soldiers. The drums t„ T' ""'' '"'™"™'" '""'"'I'
taposing silence, he ad^L ^ :,' r' ^^7' '"""" ' ""^
-de a sign that he wiswl s^eat ' "' ""•' ''^"^"™'- »"
s»sl"h°';: "" 7'''".'-7"- i -spfration even seeded
•eemed concenttti ." d^^pe t.^ Tf ''T '"" ™'"™
^t-epeiied, and re-echoed by the high
604
THE SIXTH RBADKR.
oTtt GuL7''"^' "''■' ''' ''^''' ""^^^« --^-^ ^'- ^-t rank
T J- "^®^^^'«' 8"b-"fficer8, and soldiers of my Old GuaM
M yon fa..ewen Dunn, twenty ye.r/l llv^^^^^^^^^^^
Btantly found yon on the road of honor and dorv I„ tl
at^ day, a« in tl.o. of our prosperity, ytu'l.ve t:
coasod to be n.o.lels of fidelity and bravery. With men Zl
as you our cause bad not been lost ; but L war wou d h v
been mterm.nable ; it would have been civil war Ind Pr
would have become more unhappy. ' ^^ ^ '""''
8. " I, then sacrifice my interests to those of my country T
Ko : you, my friends, continue to love France • iL h
-y only thought; it will always be tln;^.;ttf ^^^^^^^^^
Do not deplore my condition. If I have consented toTve a
m order stdl to continue your glory. I wish to write 1
great things we have accomplished together. Parewel n v
children. I would love to press you all to my heart Let Z
at least embrace your general and your flag '^ '"^
9. These words overcame the soldiers, and ran trembling
through the crowd. General Petit, who commanded X Old
embt;;';r^^^ ''^^ ^ ^^-^ ^^- ^ '
;i htrd thr^S 7ZZT\7r'' r '--' '-'''^^
eyes With the back of thli: hands. '""^''^" ^^^^^^ '''^'
10. -Letthe eagles be brought," exclaimed Napoleon The
grenadiers brought him the eagles of the regiments He took
those signs so dear to soldiers, pressed them agains hisl "t
afa ::: :?r *^^^! "P«, ''^^eareag^-Lexllarmer
an accent at once manly and broken, "may this last kiss b<i
impressed on the hearts of all my soldiers Once mor are
well, my old companions." ^e raore lare-
11 The entire army melted into tears, and nothing was heard
but the loud and heavy sobbing of the troops.
Lamartinb.
'OaiNSIO AKD JUDioiil,.
sot
■fA>(Uy,«^,
«. NAPOLEON'S HETOHN
^^he bears the exile emperor
B«ck to his ancient realm.
If oCth'"' '""^^ ^^«- ^- crew
t M *^^ "^^^^s tJ^ey dance
Bur t f„„ ,h, ^^,^_^^^^ |.
And glancog: arms and helmeti raised
Id martial splendor shine
■ /o^nrrnLfrr- --'
Ye vectors of a hundred fields
Surround jour chief once more I
4. A monarch comes I Prom royal arms
Bemove the envious rust ;
i« fte^ed from gathering dust. •
22
606
»Ww »~-l/v"^«.
li '<
THE SIXTH READER.
«
Gimrd him not to the hallu of State,
His diadem is rivon •
But bear him where yon hallowed 8pir«
la pointing up to heaven;
And with the requiem's plaintive swell,
With dirge and solemn prayer,
Enter the marble halls of death,
And throne your monarch there I
•. Napoleon comes I Go speak that word
At midnight's awful hour.
In Champ {^5 Mars ; will it not prove
A spell of fearful power f ^^^^
Will not a shadowy host arise
From field and mountain ridge,
Prom Waterloo, from Austerlitz,
From Lodi's fatal bridge,
And wheel in airy 6chelon,
From pass, and height, and plain,
To form, upon that ancient ground,
Their scattered ranks again?
t.Qo speak it in the Louvre's halls,
^ 'Mid priceless works of art ;
Will not each life-like figure from
The glowing canvas start ?
Go to Versailles, where heroes frono,
And monarchs live in stone •
Across those chiselled lips will not
A startling murmur run?
No, no, the marble still may be
Cold, cold and silent—so is he.
The pencil's living hues may bloom,
But his have faded in the tomb, ' •
And warriors in their narrow home*
Sleep, reckless that their leader come*.
10.
1
t
./
'OHINSro AND .tTDICIAI.
t. Napoloon comes I f.i.f pi • ,
^pon the rL z^::^-"^ -^'-
8 Napoleon comes I but Moscow's spires
Have ceased to glow wifh h.n^T
Proda,., ,t whore the C«sL sleep.
^^;i.«»dpre.";L:r:.^.r
And he IS here, a ii„g „, <.,^y """y-
'•^''"■"°"'»ke at war's alarm.
Its m„e,o or its „„,„ ™'-
\:"' ■">' "-t« "hen Europe hear.
The craeh of crumbling thrones
And ,„stit„tio„s gray wf.h age
Are numbered with forgotten th-
Kest w,th the people, not their king..
Fame's tr.bute to the brave ;
Shall be Napoleon's grave. "
Miss Waixao*.
507
SOS
THE SIXTH READER.
45. THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL.
THE muffled drum rolled on the air,
Warriors with stately step were there;
On every arm was the black crape bound,
Every carbine was turned to the ground ;
Solemn the sound of their measured tread, v^Wa •
As silent and slow they followed the dead.
The riderless horse was led in the rear,
There were white plumes waving over the bier ;
Helmet and sword were laid on the pall.
For it was a soldier's funeral.
2. That soldier had stood on the battle-plain, ^
Where every step was over the slain ; Vt,
But the brand and the ball had passed him by, -'-
And he came to his native land to die 1
»Twa8 hard to come to that native land,
And not clasp one familiar hand I
'Twas hard to be cumbered amid the dead,
Or ere he could hear his welcome saidl
But 'twas something to see its cliffs once more,
And to lay his bones on his own loved shore ;
To think that the friends of his youth might weep
O'er the green grass turf of the soldier's sleep.
8. The bugles ceased their wailing sound, l^^"
As the coffin was lowered into the ground ;
A volley was fired, a blessing said,
One moment's praise— and they left the dead I
I saw a poor and an ag6d man,
His step was feeble, and his lip was wan ; tXvv>.
He knelt him down on the new-raised mound, ^
His face was bowed on the cold, damp ground; *^v^^■^-
He raised his head, his tears were done—
The Father had prayed o'er his only son. Lawdox
4.
•^Ur^/'j 11
r
eep
tA"/yu
• A-r.wi--^
lAKDOK
IT*-
■ Cv^«,>a»
4.
rOBENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
46. PRESS ON.
pRESS on I surmount the rocky steeps,
■*• Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch :
He fails alone who feebly creeps, ,^,,.,^,
He wins who dares the hero's mardi.
Be thou a hero I let thy might
Tramp on eternal snows its way.
And, through the ebon walls of night, W*!^
Hew down a passage unto day. fe/lt^
I. Press on I if once and twice thy feet
Slip back and stumble, harder try j
From him who never dreads to meet
Danger and death, they're sure to fly.
To coward ranks the bullet speeds, '^j^f
While on their breasts who never quail,
Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds,
Bright courage, like a coat of mail
. Press on I if Fortune play thee false
To^iay, to-morrow she'll be true ;
Whom now she sinks, she now exalts,
Taking old gifts and granting new.
The wisdom of the present hour
Makes up for follies past and goye :
To weakness strength succeeds, and power
From frailty springs—Press on ! press out
Therefore, press on I and reach the goal, f^jc.
And gain the prize, and wear the crown :
Faint not I for to the steadfast soul
Come wealth, and honor, and renown.
To thine own self be true, and keep
Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil; jw*^
Press on 1 and thou shalt surely reap '
A heavenly harvest for thy toil | p^^^ Bkn.am,..
£09
JBIO
TUE SIXTH BEADSB.
2.
47. DEATH AND THE WARRIOR.
" A Y, warrior, arm I and wear thy plume
•^ On a proud and fearless brow 1
I am the lord of the lonely tomb,
And a mightier one than thou 1
Bid thy soul's love farewell, young chief,
Bid her a long farewell 1
Like the morning's dew shall pass that grief, —
Thou comest with me to dwell I
" Thy bark may rush through the foaming deep,
Thy steed o'er the breezy hill ; t»uA.i(^
But they bear thee on to a place of sleep,
Narrow, and cold, and chill 1" jwi \^"^»*^
"Was the voice I hearcT^Ay voice, Death !
And is thy day so near ?
Then on the field shall my life's last breath
Mingle with victory's cheer I
8. "Banner shall float, with the trumpet's note,
Above me as I die 1
And the palm-tree wave o'er my noble grave.
Under the Syrian sky.
High hearts shall burn in the royal hall.
When the minstrel names that spot ; / ^ti,
And the eyes I love shall weep my fall, —
Death, death 1 I fear thee not !"
4. " Warrior, thou bearest a haughty heart 1
But I can bend its pride I
How should'st thuu know that thy soul will part
In the hour of victory's tide ? K%4mv
It may be far from thy steel-clad bands
That I shall make thee mine ;
, It
./. !
maxr
Where men for fountains pine ! lii^v,\^ .
«Mq
rOBENSIO AND JUDICIAL.
6 " It may be deep, amidst heavy chains,
In some strong Paynim hold ;
I have slow, dull steps, and lingering pains,
Wherewith to tame the bold r i..,'. „
Death, death I I go to a doom unblest, ff^
It this indeed must be •
But the Cross m bound 'upon my breast,
And I mav not shrink from thee I
«. "Sound, clarion, sound l_fbr my vows are given
lo the cause of the holy shtine ;
I bow my soul to the will of Heaven,
Death 1 and not to thine I"
HaKAvaL
51J
48. KING RICHARD'S MEDITATION ON KINGS.
MO matter where ; of comfort no more speak ;
\ Lets talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs.
Make dust oar paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills •
And yet not so,-for what can we bequeath, L.^
Save our deposed bodies to the gi-ound ?
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's
And nothing can we call our own, but death ; '
And that small model of the barren earth. ^^
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. ^v_j^
For Heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings •-_
How some have been deposed, some slain in war
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed •
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed;
All murdered :_for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a kino- '
Keeps Death his court : and there the airtin «if.
ocoffinff his state, and ffriunin
«(U
•JJL.
gnuniag at hiar pomp
f'
/W'OMi
t
512
THE SIXTH READER.
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks ;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,-
As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable ; and, humored thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin -^.^^
Bores through his castle wall, and— farewell, king I
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence ; throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while :
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends :~8ubjected thus,
How can you say to me—I am a king 7 Shampbam.
49 WELCOME TO GENERAL LAFAYETTE,
TTTELflOME, friend of our fathers, to our shores.' Happy
Jf^ are our eyes that behold those venerable features
Enjoy a triumph, such as never conqueror or monarch enioy^
ed,_tho assurance that, throughout America, there is not a
bosom which does not beat with joy and gratitude at the
sound of your name. You have already met and saluted, or
will soon meet, the few that remain, of the ardent patriots,
prudent counsellors, and brave warriors with whom you were
associated in achieving our liberties. But you have looked
round in vain for the faces of many who would have lived
years of pleasure on a day like this, with their old companion
in arms and brother in neril.
2 Lincoln, and Greene, and Knox, and Hamilton are gone I
The heroes of Saratoga and Yorktown have fallen before the
only foe they could not meet ! Above all, the first of heroes
and of men, the friend of your youth, the more tha,i friend of
hm country, rests in the bosom of the soil he redeemed. On
.ue utiuKSof his Potomac he lies in glory and peace. You
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL. 5J3
Will revisit the hospitable shades of Mount Vernon • but him
whon. you venerated, as we did, you will not moot a s d'r
H.8 voice of consolation, which reached you in the Austin'
dungeons, cannot now break it« «,-I.n V i ^ Austrian
to his own roof. ""'^ *° ^'^ ^^^ ^^'^O'^e
3. But the grateful children of America will bid you wel
oo,ne ,n h.s nan.e. Welcome, thrice welcome to our s W
and whithersoevei throughout the limits of tl. . '
course shall t-^i^ .u '^^ *"^' continent your
tl" eve tht ^'"' ' ''' "^'' ''^^'" ^'°" «hall bless you •
the eye that sees you, shall bear witness to vnn . . a
tongue exclaim with heartfelt joy XZ': 'T^
FAYETTE I" ELCOME, WELCOME, La-
Edward Etbbbtt.
50. ROLLA'S ADDRESS.
my fame. Can Rolla's words add vio-or fn ih^ • !
energies which inspire your hearts ? I u '"'*"'^"'
our nomes I They follow an adventurer whom f^J
luve — a ixoa whom we adore Wharo'^n +u
'" ^"^'^y' '^ffl'ction mourns their friendship ^
>"«r p,„u,ct,„„ ; ye., «„ch p,,,.eoti„„ a« "vultures' -■■--'
coven-" - ^ ■
lambs,
and dt
vouri
ng them. Theji call on us to ban
'22*
514
r
,^>^
THE SIXTH EEADEB.
ter all of good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate
chance of something bettor which they promise.
4. Be our plain answer this : The throne we honor is the
people's choice ; the laws we reverence are our brave fathers'
legacy; the faith we follow, teaches us to live in bonds of
charity with all mankind and die-with hope of bliss be-
yond the grave. Tell your invaders this, and tell them, too
we seek no change, and least of all, such change as they
would bring us.
61. ADDRESS TO THE SUN.
r\ THOU that rollest above, round as the shield of my
y^ fathers I Whence are thy beams, sun I thy everlast-
ing light? Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty, and the
Btarshide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale
sinks m the western wave. But thou thyself movest alone:'
who can be a companion of thy course?
2. The oaks of the mountains fall ; the mountains them-
selves decay with years ; the ocean shrinks and grows again • '
the moon herself is lost in heaven ; but thou art forever the
same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. When the
world IS dark with tempests ; when thunder rolls, and light-
mng flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and
laughest at the storm.
8. ButtoOssian, thou lookest in vain; for he beholds thy
beams no more, whether thy yellow hair flows on the eastern
clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou
art, perhaps, like me, for a season, and thy years will have an
end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of
the morning. Exult then, sun, in the strength of thy
youth I ° . •'
4. Age is dark and unlovely ; it is like the glimmering ligut
of the moon, when it shines through broken clouds, and the
mist IS on the hills ; the blast of the north is on the plain the
traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey. o««a«.
0'
to be
awfu
ished
crush
dia, ai
out th
Hp in
2. 1
will b(
to her
ties, to
entire i
he atta
3. Ai
»>oor cri
with all
terrible,
yii yj»t dame, t
policy b1
down foi
4. Wl
shall ap{
,, niurderec
liu^--''' balls?"
roH of he
the judgr
God of h(
any thing
6. Will
tnain ]\\T .
toakiwg "
'OBENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
515
llU'"
62. ENGLAND'S DOOM.
ON that great and dreadful Day of the r nv^ « v.
as well as individuals shall L ;'"/^^"^' ^'^en natione
to be judged aocordinrto tM ?„ Is T ."' f" '"' "' ^^'^
awful account to render of hi ' I'f"'"^ ^'"'^ ^^^'^ ""
i«hed anddowntroddenl 1 . '*'^"''^'-^^^"P- Hor impover
cushed and ^12^1^^!: te t ^^ ' ^^'
HP in judg JL: ag W^^^^^^^^ ^^'-^ ^' -^^^-. -in all rL
2. The nations of the civilized earth «,ni . ,
will bear evidence to her hardTearf. . ' '"'^ "^ *""' *"^
»o her utter disregard of ^ J^ ^'';*^'^, ^"^^ relentless avarice,
ties, to her all-gr! ^tg s^' it Tf a " "^ '"'"'"^ ^"^ *--
entire reckle~88lss a b the If ^f ''^^^•^^-«-** and to her
be attained. """'"^ ^^ ^'^'^^^ »'-'• ^^^^ were to
3. And on that awful dav nf «,. i i .
*oor crushed and bleedLg frefa'; i:nt"T^' ? ™'°° °'
^'ith all the earnest eloqnel „f wl ,' f' ■"="' P''^"""*'
terrible, may at length fall „„ ,t l ^ . ■'"'""■ ""'"■' ""'i
». dame, to wise :tt„: ^ue : . "' *""' "'""""■■"' ^'^P' *•-
the judg„e„t.seat ef Zmost „ t • "'"'''"'^" ""'""'
God of heaven and ea h? Wi 1 1 d l'" "'' T" '"'"'™«
any thing ? ""'Will hei diplomacy then pro«t her
6. Will those canning devicec. „,j .i . .-.■ . fttf"
im I ki.u _ .. . '^ <""i=«s and that political feo»,rf* I '
inrnn I.., .-h:-u - ... "'"' tnat political laim'J^
I
I
518
^'
V*^'
THE SIXTH RfiALER.
.,^^ aught? No, no. The Lord will then tear from her brow the
veil of hypocrisy. which has so long concealed her hideous de-
formities ; He will strip her of all disguise, and exhibit her as
«he 18 before the assembled world ; for on that day " He will
reveal the hidden things of darkness, and manifest the coun-
eels of hearts."
6. And then shall proud England be humbled even unto the
dust, and poor bleeding Ireland, which has been downtrodden
by her for nearly seven centuries, be raised up from her lowli-
ness to the lofty eminence to which her noble virtues and her
long sufferings have entitled her. This is no mere flight of
elevated fancy ; it is a solemn and sober religious view of a
subject invested with an all-absorbing interest.
ABP. SFALDIH&
)
1
!
i
i
68. A NATIONAL MONUMENT TO WASHINGTON.
■pELLOW-CITIZENS : let us sdze this occasion to renew to
each other our vows of allegiance and devotion to the
American Union, and let us recognize in our common title to
the name and the fame of Washington, and in our common
veneration for his example and his advice, the all-sufficient
centripetal power which shall hold the thick clustering stars
of our confederacy in one glorious constellation forever I Let
the column which we are about to construct be at once a
pledge and an emblem of perpetual union !
2. Let the foundations be laid, let the superstructure be
built up and cemented, let each stone be raised and riveted in
a spirit of national brotherhood 1 And may the earliest ray
of the rising 8un,-till that sun shall set to rise no more —
draw forth from it daily, us from the fabled statue of In-
tiquity, a strain of national harmony which shall strike a
responsive chord in every heart throughout the republic I
3. 'Proceed, then, fellow-citizens, with the work for v.)y\nh
you have assembled. Lay the corner-stone of a monument
FOBKNSIO AND JUDICUL. 617
Which shall adequately bespeak the gratitude of the whole
p. muplesl Pound ,t upon tliu massive eternal rock ; you can-
e. :s:%ra;"'"i:^ "™ "^ "'■°^' ''•>-'™°t -r:
.isHfe f\i r ''' ^°" """"»' '■"''« " P"rerthaa
-d * Jem It"''"'' ■' *'"-■ ™'" '"" P™'"^'- "f "--t
than Us charcter ' '°'' ""'°°' """'^ " """= P-portioaat,
4. But let not your homage to his memory end here Thi„t
not to transfer to a tablet or a column the tHbuto wUch l^
from yourselves. Jnst honor to Washington can only li ren!
afLrus inlutr """' '°°°°""-""'- ^'''- ''°'' "'"^^ "ho come
yenerationTrhr this this .r'°'" ""T '""' '^^"^ "-
his services to mrnkind ' "° """""^'^'^ "'""'-'«
^"zzrrmt .^^airoTh "' ---^- - --
o-hrine the memmy, and those ton::.i It^Tt '
K. G WlNTHHOF.
518
THE SIXTH READER.
64. WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL TO HIS ARMY.
rpHE chieftain gazed with moistened eyes upon the veterau
-*- band,
Who with him braved the battle's storm for God and native
land.;
At last the parting hour had come— from prairie, mount, and
sea,
The glad shout burst from countless hearts : " Our land— our
land is free 1"
n.
Then up from every altar rose a hymn of praise to God,
Who nerved the patriot hearts and arms to free their native
sod ; *A-.V^i •
The stormy strife of grief and gloom, of blood and death, was
o'er —
The heroes who survived its wrath might seek their homes
once more.
m.
With bared heads bowed, and swelling hearts, they gathered
round their chief ;
The parting day^to them was one of mingled joy and grief;
They thought of all his love and care, his patience sorely tried,'
Of how he shared their wants and woes, and with them death
defied.
IV.
They looked back to that fearful night when 'mid the storm
he stood,
BeMe the icy Delaware, to guide them e'er its flood-
Back to red fields where, thick as leaves upon an autumn day.
The tawny savage warriors and British foemen lay.
V.
They thought of many a cheerless camp, where lay the sick
and dead.
Where oft that form was bent o'er many a sufferer's bed •
MT.
he veterau
the sick
ed;
F0KEN810 AND JUDICIAL. fiij,
The gloomy huis at Vallev For^A ™»,
Froze .an, a Wave i.eZ:Z:'C oltd ''°' """"
in death. vw^." ^''^'^^oed many an arm
A J 1 , . Hf^- V Vir. -Y .Vf*.
'- W on t,e. wa.thU„ed ™,, ,, .,,,,, ,„ ^,„^^
" 'Xtl^r- °' ''» «-' "- to sa, .He „oM
He -w^st.o„, .e., who, faci„, deat,,, had never .>.o„,M „,
'^Wle ,0 his tr.!y{lZl7Zr7' '" "'''''^ '>"^'
-o.^^e../..hedZ-;ri:,t-r^^
Earth showed no lanw^Tlo/i «„
no laid the swo d 1 '1 '""" '" ""^^ S'^"' «» he
free- "' ^^^ """" "''- ".ce hi. land wa.
'^'.oc^.™,..oo,hthie,„i..,„„e„,,„,^,„^,^^^^^^^^
''"'V:l:Lir "- -«- "ied: "Ooa hies. „„,
Uma,
520
THE 81XTU BEADBB.
68, THE SPIRIT OP DEMOCRACY IN AMERICA AND IN EUROPK
[ABBB Lrcoudaihe, bom m 1802. obtained a brilliant emlnonco at the
ba in iranco, when, to the astonishment of all, ho renounced the .„o«t fl 1
J^rlng pro3pe...t to become a priest of the Order of 8t. Don.lnle. „" d , a
his rare talents to his celebrated Conference at N6tre Datne. kI r I e o
dalre was also a men^.ber of the French Academy, where he repro. ai ChX
Wan eloquence In the most elevated and perfect 8en.e.J
T"f f '"''■'«*" ^''" r^'«Pe«t« the law of God respects alno
the law of man ; and if he believeo it unjust, he rcsorv.H
himselt to obtain the repeal of it some day, not by vi(,l(.,K.o
but ,n making for himself a peaceful and sure arm of all thrmo
moana of persuasion which intelligence gives a man, and by
the still more powerful means which he is able to possess from
a tried devotion to the cause of justice.
2. To the European democrat I may say still, with nea-H-
sary exceptions, the law is only a decree rendered by force
and which force has the right to overthrow. Was it an entire
people who had given their assent and their sanction, he pre
tends that a minority, or even a single man, has the right to
oppose to it the protestation of the sword, and to tear in bio,,,!
a paper which has no other value than the want of power to
replace it by another.
3 The American, come from a land where the aristocracy
of birth always enjoyed a considerable pa. f in public affairn
has cast away from his institutions the hereditary nobility'
and reserved to personal merit the honor of governing.
4. But at the same time that he is passionately devoted to
the equality of conditions, whether he considers it in a point
of view derived from God, or in the point of view of a man
le does not estimate liberty at a less price, and, if the occa
mm presented itself for choosing between one and the other,
he would do as the mother did in the judgment of Solomon I
be would say to God and the world, "Do not separate them,
because they have but one life in my soul ; and I will die thf
day that one dies."
5. Thtt Knrnnoan /Iprnrtr*?"^ .J.-x- j. __ 3- . • .. ..
his ey
prevai
Kquali
tained
•
riiis ru
or a ua
iind rec
the rei^
6. Tl
trary pc
all that
commen
worship
7. Tht
State, ta
caust to
8. He
of the fa
i«. the p<
right to f
pretends
tion, even
neither ac
iuterventii
mined by
Vestibule i
9. The
just what
democrat
"»der the i
iO. If, ti,
democracy
respocted ;
European d
F't-scut witj
aad there a
FOBENSIO AND JUDICIAL.
521
rin» ruling a multitui. L , i ^ ■' """''' '"■■"«■• Tilit.-
«^" -.>a wiihrai^Mir:.:,.:''"'' """"^ '""■" '-"•' """
•II that belouCT to a,„l ! ' '=""""''■""'"« "Hh his seal,
«aa,t to public omnipotenoo '"'" '" " '»'"■
«rii^t"f tie^:^. 'f :r;r •: --^'-^ '^^ — *
i«. the people .-epresen eTbv ,f ? ^' '""' "'^' ^"^-""'«
righttofor„H,iJ„Xton > 7 "''" »""-•■■" "-'-» the •
preteuda tbut the 11™° th^' '" """ ^■'""' '"''■^^'- ^8
tiou, even ti„. mo»t Trr t. *"''""""'' """ "'■""J' '"^'«>'>i»-
-it-^ act, ,.;: TenX 'nt^rr "■"• f"' .""^ -"
--. aaa ro„„r r ;rei,t:;;: ^"' ^"■'"'■''" "■•'
'l-no,.,,ae oppresses every Z' . "^ ' "''' ^"'■"P^*"
"-;then Of „„„:-;;:- --0 cate .or hi..
wa;;trvf::s?;e:t%"e:;: 'tr "-■ ^™--
roHpfcted : free iu finp .j,k , P^^P'^-rehgious, powerful,
precauooa hbert^-, agu,.tcd the world by evoat«
522
THE SIXTH READEB.
tw^^'*
much more than it has renewed it by institutions ; and, incon-
testable master of the future, it prepares for us, if not instruct,
ed, the frightful alternative of a demagogy without founda-
tions, or a despotism without curb, y v.^v^v.C - Li^ookdu^
66. THE DEATH OF O'CONNELL.
mHERE is sad news from Genoa. An aged and weary pil-
-*- grim, who can travel no further, passes beneath the gate
of ©ne of her ancient palaces, saying with pious resignation
as he enters its silent chambers, "Well, it is God's will that I
shall never see Kome. I am disappointed. But I am ready to
die. It is all right." The superb though fading queen of the
\fediterranean holds anxious watch, through ten long days,
over that majestic stranger's wasting frame. And now death
is there— the Liberator of Ireland has sunk to rest dn the
Cradle of Columbus.
2. Coincidence beautiful and most sublime I It was the
very day set apart by the elder daughter of the Church for
prayer and sacrifice throughout the world, for the children of
the sacred island, perishing by famine and pestilence in their
homes and in their native fields, and on their crowded paths
wf. exile, on the sea and in the havens, and on the lakes, and
along the rivers of this far-distant land. The chimes rung
out by pity for his countrymen were O'Oonnell's fitting knell ; u
hiH soul went forth on clouds of incense that rose from altars
of Christian rbarity ; and the mournful anthems which recited
the faith, and the virtue, and the endurance of Ireland, wer
his becoming requiem.
3. It is a holy sight to see the obsequies of a soldier, not
only of civil liberty, but of the liberty of conscience— of a
soldier, not only of freedom, but of the Cross of Christ— of a
benefactor, not merely of a race of people, but of mankind.
The vault lighted by suspended worlds is the temple within
Which the great solemnities are celebrated. The nations of
the eai
feet, d«
into so
4. B,
melanc
from p£
dark w
hill, ev(
wailing
where t
pi ring i
Well in
children
[There If
following 1
as he Was (
nimity whi
tion, by wr
COME
Ihea
There's si
^ bla
Old faces
I hear the
And ray d
rOBENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
and, incon-
aot instruct,
out founda-
iBOOBDiJBB.
623
I weary pil-
th the gate
resignation
i will that I
im ready to
ueen of the
long days,
now death
rest >in the
[t was the
Church for
children of
5e in their
rded paths
lakes, and
imes rung
ing knell ; "ti i
rem altars
ich recited
land, wer
jldier, not
ince — of a
irist — of a
mankind.
Die within
lations of
fr» palace. .es.«,a„arrr„i::r:TCB;^^
wailing comes LTfhlT ^ u "^'' ^""^ ^"^P^^ ^et that U^
«re ine people of the greenest island of all the seas ^r^^'^
'zvT: "'''^' f ■■"""*"' "-^^ world wirzftir
" A loj^ so vehement, so strong, so pure.
That neither age could change nor art could cure."
W. H. Sbwabd.
67. THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE, 1645
aa^ewJ eauet Jtt rour rSrL^S'T^
nimity which he displayed to thP \Z T ''7''>-*'»« ^^"'•age and magna-
tion, by writers of ^ve^ZsT T "^°"' ^"^ '^'^
QOME hither, Evan Cameron; come, stand beside my knee 1-
tV. > r ." "'" '"'""^ ^°"" *°"-<i« the wintry sea '
There's^shou^ng on the mountain-side, there's war within the
Old faces look upon me.-old forms go trooping past.
I hear the pibroch wailing amidst the din of fitht rL. ^
And my dim spirit wakes again, upoulEe verge of night. ^""
n.
Twaslthat led the Highland hoat , through wild Whabert
What time the plaided clans came down to battle with Montrose.
524 THE SIXTH READEB. ^
I've told thee how the Southrons fell beneath the broad clay.
more.
And how we smote the Campbell clan by Inverlochy's shore.
I've told thee how we swept Dundee, and tamed the Lindsays'
pride ;
But never have I told thee yet how the Great Marquis died.
in.
A traitor sold him to his foes ;— 0, deed of deathless shame I
I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet with one of Assynt's
name,
Be it upon the mountain's side, or yet within the glen,
^vJ^ Stand he in martial gear alone, or backed by arm6d men,
Face him, as thou wouldst face the man who wronged thy
sire's renown ; ^uw^w^wviL*
Remember of what blood thou art, and strike the caitiff down I
They brought him to the Watergate, hard bound with hempen
span, uxk ^1
As though they held a lion there, and not a 'fenceless'mai.
But when he came, though gale and wan, he looked so great
and high,
IjJC^,^ ^ °**^^® ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^y ^^o°*» 80 calm his steadfast eye,
1^ ^**® '^^^ble ^out forbore to shout, and each man held his
I breath ;
For well they knew the hero's soul was face to face with
death.
Had I been there, with sword in hand, and fifty Camerons by
rj That day, through high Dunedin's streets, had pealed the
^5!2I?n-cry.
5\M • ^'"* ^" *^®^' '^""^P^ of trampling horse, nor might of mailed
Not all the rebels in the South, had borne ut backwards then I
Once m
m
Or I, an
It mighl
hi
Where c
nc
lint there
And perj
be
With sa\i
do(
And then
roo
"Now, by
And by th(
ther
Yea, by a
be I
By that da
me,-
I have not i
Nor hoped ]
'There is ;
brave
But a bette
grave
For truth ac
alway
and ye raise
heave]
FOBEKSIC AND JUDICIAL.
fi25
broad clay*
fiy's shore,
e Lindsays'
[uis died.
3S sbame I
>f Aasynt's
jn,
[ men,
:onged thy
itiff down I
ith Lempeb
aab.
id so great
38 man
eye,
1 held hig
W-.h «„a^e glee e..e Wa„iato„, ■ ,4 ^e „„.der„»
A.d the.^„p„,e the g.eat M„«.„3e ia the ™ddle of the
vn.
"Now, by my faith aa belted knie-h^ ^r.A u ^u
And by the bright SainTll rfl^^ttr'^V ''"''
there,— ^* ^^^^^ above us
Yea, by^a greater, mightier oath,-and 0, that such should
By that^ dart stream of royal blood that lies Wt you and
I have not sought in battle-field a ^^aihV «„.h
Nor hoped I on my dyinir dav inJTu '^°*''^''' ^-v^—
y aying day^to w,Ti the martyr's crown I
vni.
•The. U^a Chamber r.. awa, where ,,eep the good «
But a ^better pUce .e-ve aa^ed for „e thao b, „, father.
'"''"s::?::;;^s^' '-- -«^^ «>'-- hath
626
THE SIXTH READBB.
iJ^
Then nail my head on yonder ower, — give every town a limb —
And God who made shall gather them: I go from you to
Hira 1"
n.
The morning dawned full darkly j like a bridegroom from hia
room, ,
]!ame the hero from his prison to the scafiFold and the doom.
There was glory on his forehead, there was lustre in his eye.
And he never walked to battle more proudly than to die •
There was color in his visage, though the cheeks of all were
wan,
And they marvelled as they saw him pass, that great and
goodly man.
X.
Then radiant and serene he stood, and cast hia cloak away,
For he had ta'en his latest look of earth, and sun, and day.
He mounted up the scaffold, and he turned him to the crowd ;
But they dared not trust the people,— so he might not speak
aloud.
But he looked upon the heavens, and they were clear and blue,
And in the liquid ether the eye of God shone through :
» ■ ^j^
A beam of light fell o'er him, like a glory round the shrivin,
And he climbed the lofty ladder as it were the path to heaven.
Then came a flash from out the cload, and a stunning thunder-
roll. ; I. U
And no man dared to look aloft ; fear was on every soul.
There was another heavy sound,— a hush, and then a groan ;
And darkness swept across the sky, — the work of death was
done I
ATToim.
n a limb,— .
om you to
n from his
e doom.
I his eye,
die ;
Df all were
great and
away,
id day.
e crowd ;
not speak
IflSOBLLANEOUa.
67.* A STORM AT SEA.
Q GOD I have mercy in this dreadful hour
^^ On the poor mariner I in the comfort here,
• Safe sheltered as I am, I almost fear
The blast that rages with resistless power.
What wore it now to toss upon the waves,
The maddened waves and know no succor near I
The howling of the storm alone to hear.
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves ;
To gaze amid the horrors of the night
And only see the billows' ghostly light,
And in the dread of death to think of her
Who, as she listens sleepless to the gale.
Puts up a silent prayer and waxes pale l'
God 1 have mercy on the mariner I
627
A
/&■>«
BOUTHBT.
and blue,
b:
shriven,
heaven,
f thundor-
)ouI.
1 groan ;
leath was
Attooti-
88. "TiOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS PROM GEENl'
TO AIX," 18—.
T SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ;
Good speed r cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew.
Speed 1" echoed the wall to us galloping through ;
Behmd shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we galloped abreast. ' hUJr
n.
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
hecK oy neck, stride for stride, never changing "our pUoe-
S38
THB SIXTH READBB.
\
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, W4 Id-
Nor galloped less steadily Roland, a whit, w (vm
I
m.
Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew, and twilight dawned clear ;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see ;
At Duffelu, 'twas morning as plain as could be ;
And from Mecheln church -steeple we heard the half-chime
bo Jons broke silence with, "Yet there is time P
17.
At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
■\^ To^stare through the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland, at last.
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some Wuff river headland its spray. '' :,
r. ^
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
±or my voice, and the other pricked out on his track-
And qne eye's black intelligence,-ever that glance '
Oer Its white edge at me, his own master, askance 1 I
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon^'V. ,'>
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. ' "
VI.
"By Hasselt!" Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, "Stay spur^
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her
We'll remember at Aix"*_for one heard the quic'k wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,^^'"
And, sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, UbT
As down on he r haunches she shuddered and sank.
* The « in thii word is not sounded.
Y
It,
bit, W4 /JAt'f'
near
[ear ;
half-chime.
I"
B»
yORENSIO AND JUDICIAL.
bent back
rack J
ce
ice I I
anon >
!tay spur^
sfc wheeze .,
ng knees,
;ii.«
529
ni.
fr
So we were left galloping, Joris and I,
PuBt Loo, and past Tongres. no cioud in the skv
And "GaUop," gasped Joris. "for aL is'^in eight I»
yin.
'(.V'A
Then
Shook
IX.
I cast^loose my buffcoat, each holster Jet fall, U
Stood u ""^ •'''^■^'"*«' ^^* g°"^It and all J
Stood up m the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear
And all I remember i,, friends flocking round
As I aate with his head '6wiit a ■ knfes on L
A.d no voice bnt was praisin, m^ZlZflr"-
Whioh7r h '^ ■"■' "'™' "" '*■" "-sure T;i„e
Wh»ch (the burgesses voted by common consent) '
OheT """ "' ""^ '"'° """«" ^»°d -- fro„
RoBiBT BBovxnra
S8
630
THE SIXTH READER
\lt>>'
'tovt
I
59. CATO ON THE SOUL'S IMMORTALITY.
[Cato Is seated with Plato's treatise in his hand, and beside him his eirord
The expression should be solemn, and the declamation of a lofty and diOTlfled
character.] ''
T must be so I Plato, thon reasonest well :
Else, whence this fond desire, this pleasing hope,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror
Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul W^i
Back on herself, and shudders at destruction? |\.v,^'.^,
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; jj^y« i
'Tis heaven itself that points out a hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man I—
Eternity [ thou pleasing, dreadful thought 1—
Through what variety of untried being,
Through what new forms and changes must we passf
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me ;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
Here will I held :— If there's a Power above,—
And, that there is, all Nature cries aloud
Through all her works,— He must delight in virtue;
And that which He delights in must be happy:
But when? or how? This world was mac. for Cwsar.
Pm weary of conjectures ; this mm end 'e.a I
_, [Taking up the sword.]
Thus am I doubly arm'd : my life and death,
.-^ My bane and antidote, are both before me.
This, in a moment, brings me to an end ;
But this assures toe I shall never die I
The soul, secure in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the Sun himself
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years,—
. Thou still Shalt flourish in eternal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements.
The wreck of matter and the crush of worlds!
Adoisoh.
* "AEC ANTOWS APOSTHOPHE TO C^.R.» ,„
(Thta.p<,„„p.,^,.. . '' '" C«AKS BODY.
Shall o„„ber all .be part. „f u,^ .
Blood and destruction ahair h^ ■'
Th:trnr;rte^^':-v\™^Bei.„,<,
With ;;;;;!" ;;:"!'"" t "'^''^«'
stall in .hefet„„fl'^;t":a°"™""'^"'
c^ Havoc, and let :;rp rd:;rr.™'"'
«io« groaning for burial!
fll. SCENE FROM JULIAS C^SAR.
BBUTOB—OABSIUS.
Oas. Will you go see th^ nrw.. ^f ..
-SrM. Kot I. " ""' """^ courser
Cm. I pray you, do. .
u/A,
6«2
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
Bru. I am not g/imesorae ; I do lack sotno part
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
Let nie not hinder, Cassius, your desires ; tw^^AU'^
I'll leave you. '
Cos. Brutus, I df observe you now of late ;
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
A.nd show of love, as I was wont to have :
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.
Bru. Oassius,
Be not deceived : If I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself.
Which give some soil, perhaps, to ray behaviors;
But let not therefore my good friends be grieved :
Among which number, Cassius, be you one ;
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.
Cos. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion ;
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
Bru. No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself,
But by retlection, by some other things.
Cos. 'Tisjust:
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirror, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome —
Except immortal Ceesar — speaking of Brutus,—
And
/K»»»0*»'^'
Have wished" that noble Brutus had bis eyes.
1
1
T
A
T
Ti
Ci
Tl
Bu
W
If;
Sei
An
Foi
Th(
(
As
We
I ca
Thii
I ha
In a
I Wi
FORENSIC AND JUDTOIAL.
533
U^Jlj.*-
,x
I'lMj
r
i'LfA.
'/ii«'.'^
That you would have me seek into myself
*or that which is not in me?
Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear:
And, since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass.
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And oe not jealous of me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester : if you know
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard.
And after, scandal them: or if you know
Ihat I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous
-Sru. What meui.rf this shoutino-? I do fp^.r *k
Choose C«sar for their king. ' ^^' ^""^^^
Can. Ay, do you fear it?
Then mnst I think, you would not have it so
Bufwh T"'^ "°*' ^^"""^' y^' I '°^« him well:--
But wherefore do you hold me here so long ?
What 18 It that you would impart to me?
If It be aught towards the general good.
Set honor in o«e eye. and death i' the other,
And I will look on both indifferently •
For let the gods so speed me, as I love
The nanie of honor n.ore than I fear death.
Cos. I know that virtue to be in you Brutu.
AswelasIdoknowyouroutwardW. '
Well, honor is the subject of my story -.
cannot tell what you and other men
I hmk of this life; but, for my single self.
I had as hef not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as i myself
I was bom free as C^sar ; so were you j
23*
'It
t'A.
nuJCTu
'^ THIS fllXTH READEB.
We both have f I as well ; and we can both
^uduro the winter's culd as well as he ; ^
*or onco, up„n a raw and gusty day, \ M<v
The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores, ..j.^
C»8ar8a.dtome."Dar'8tthou.Cassiu8.nowi
Leap in with me into this angry flood, *
And swim to yonder point ?"-Upou the word.
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bade bin, follow ; so, indeed, he did.
^e torreu roar'd ; and we did buffet it ^.^
^ With lusty sinews, throwing it aside, • W;.
>. • And stemming it with hearts of controversy
But, ere we could arrive the point proposed
CiBsar cried, "Help me, Oassius, or I sink.*
1— as ^neas, our great ancestor
m from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder.
The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of T ber.
Did I the t.r« I C^sar. And this mar. *
Is now become a god ; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body.
a Caesar carelessy but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain
And when the fit was on him, I did mirk
How he did «hake ; 'tia true, this god did shake :
His coward lips did from their color fly •
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world.
Did lose Its lustre : I did hear him groan •
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books.
Alas, It cried, " Give me some drink, Titinius."
As a sick girl. Ye gods I it doth amaze me
A- man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world.
And bear the palm alone.
Bru. Another general shout I
I do beliovo +110+ 4-u -1
„.„„ vucoc applauses tut)
rOBKMSIC iKD JUDICIAL. g8(
i e fault, dear Biutus, « „„, i„ „„, ,t
Bu u „„3elves, that w. arc „„derti„g.. ' ,u....^
W r.l, , r'"" '"' """"^"^ """f' than your, ,
Now,,athouame8„fall,l,egod8.to,w,
maTh""^"'.,""'"" '""' ""■""" O^^ar feed
W e„ ,„„M they aay, till „„„, that talko: 7noa,,
That her w.de wall, e„co.„pa,..d but „ue n,anf
Oh I you and I have heard our fathers «ay
There was a Brutus ouce that would have brook'd
The eternal deyil to keep his eeat in Eo,!
Ab casdy as a king-.
Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealou. •
What you would work me to J have so.ue aim . '
flow have thought of this, and of these times'
I -hall recount hereafter; for this present
I would not-s„ With love I might entreat y„„_
Be any further ,„oved. What you have said
t ".'," """'"'J'''- i "hat you have to say
I ""11 with patience hear ;„„d find a time
Bot,. meet to hear and answer such high thing..
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this,
586
THE SIXTH READER.
Brutus had rather be a villager,
Than to repute himself a eon of Rome,
Under these hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us.
8BAKSPBA.BB.
"«A-i^v^-(!(
03. PETES PLTMLET-a LETTEB8.
the a^w-ed nam. „7 P „"1 , '^'""°' "'""''' *^*"J' ^'^'^ "■«»
J)EAR ABRAHAM : A worthier and better ,«aa than y„„r.
sat does not exist ; but I have always told vou from the
toe of o»r boyhood, that yoa were a bit of a goo^se
i. . t »„H > -f °°'''''' ^*''''''' ^^ 8^°"^"^'' "i* «emplanr order
MS^ and eg„ amy ; you are as powerful in the vestry as Mr Sr
ceval m the House of Con,n,„ns,_and, I must say, with much
«.ore reason . „„, jo I know any church where tie facer«d
«nock.frocks of the congregation are so clean, or the7r eyes
•o uniformly directed to the preacher. ^
3 There is another point npon which I will do yo" amnle
^«,ce ; and that is, that the eyes so directed towards yoTre
«de open; for the rustic has, in general, good prindpCs
ttough he cannot control his animal habits, knd howeTw
! '""i tin":^oZ5o"r^°^ ' "^'"'""^ '"™'' '^-"'' ^^-^
acco.d.ng to our anc.ent intimacy and familiarity, to explain
CO yon my op,n,ons about the Cathol,.s, and to rep'fv to y' rs
nor a e tbl! "'• "^ ™-'^^-''™. '»e Pope is not iJnded
Z 7s,lr, "71' ''"' °"' ""'" "'■" ■• •"" "»» "e been
P Lily at Hon '^„° """"^^ '^"''^ '•'^■«^^^' "" *-d
pnvately at Holland House, nor been seen „.ar Dropmore.
6. If these fears exist (which I do not belie-,), they exist
only m the mind of the Chancellor of the Exchequer^ thly
'h^k^Jv
FOfiENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
681
BPBiBB.
ire 80 com*
itb, under
g in good
an yoiir-
Tom the
ry order
kfr. Per.
fi much
ces and
jir eyes
ample
i^ou are
iciples,
Br loud
e foun«
•oceed,
xplain
yours.. ;
anded,^"
J been
dined
e.
exist
they
emanate from his zeal for the Protestant interest ; and though
they reflect the highest honor upon the delicate irritability of
his faith, must certainly be considered as ambiguous proofs
of the sanity and vigor of his understanding.
6. By this time, however, the best informed clergy in the
neighborhood of the metropolis are convinced that the rumor is
without foundation ; and, though the Pope is probably hove^ U'U^
mg about our coast, in a fishing smack, it is most likely he « \
will fall a prey to the vigilance of our cruisers ; and it is cer-
tain he has not yet polluted the Protestantism of our soil.
1. Exactly in the same manner, the story of the wooden
gods seized at Charing Cross, by an order from the Foreign
Office, turns out to be witlioufc the shadow of a foundation ;
instead of the angels and archangels, mentioned by the'
informer, nothing was discovered but a wooden image of Lord
Mulgrave, going down to Chatham as a head-piece' for the
Spanker gun-vessel ; it was an exact resemblance of his lord-
ship in his military uniform, and, therefore, as little like a god
as can well be imagined. Having set your fears at rest as to
the extent of the conspiracy formed against the Protestant
religion, I will now come to the argument itself
8. You say these men interpret the Scriptures in an ortho-
dox manner ; and that they eat their God. Very likely. All
this may soera very important to you, who live fourteen miles
from a market town and, from long residence upon your liv-
ing, are become a kind of holy vegetable ; and, in a tlieologi-
cal sense, it is highly important.
9. But I want soldiers and sailors for the State ; I want to
make a greater use than I now can do of a poor country full
Of men ; I want to render the military service popular among
the Irish ; to check the power of Prance ; to make every pos-i
Bible ,exeA-tion for the safety of Europe, which, in twenty
years' time, will be nothing but a mass of French slaves ; and
then you, and ten thousand othijr such bodies as you, cull < ut :
"For God's «ake, do not think of raising cavalry and infantry
in Irek'wl 1 . . . . They interpret the Epistle to Timothy in a
23*
638
THE SIXTH READEB.
different manner from what we do I ... . They eat a bit ol
wafer every Sunday, which they call their God !"
10. I wish to my soul they would eat you, and such reason-
era as you are. Whatl when Turk, Jew, heretic, infidel.
Catholic, Protestant, are all combined against this country ;
when men of every religious persuasion, and no religious per-
iuasion ; when the population of half the globe is up in amis
against us, are we to stand examining our generals and
armies as a bishop examines a candidate for holy orders?
and to suffer no one to bleed for England who does not agree
with you about the 2d of Timothy ?
11. You talk about the Catholics ! If you and your brother-
hood have been able to persuade the country into a continu-
ation of this grossest of all absurdities, you have ten times
the power which the Catholic clergy ever had in their best
days. Louis XIV., whoa he revoked the Edict of Nantes,
never thought of preventing the Protestant from fighting his
battles, and gained, accordingly, some of his most splendid
victories by the talents of his Protestant generals.
.12. No power in Europe, but yourselves, has ever thought,
for these hundred years past, of asking whether a bayonet i»
Catholic, or Presbyterian, or Lutheran ; but whether it is
sharp and well-tempered. A bigot delights in public ridicule,
for he begins to think he is a martyr. I can promise you the
full enjoyment of this pleasure, from one extremity of Europe
to the other. Stdnet Smith.
68. THE REFORM BILL.
[The writings of the lute Rev. Sydney Smith, an Epiacopal clergyman of
England, are characterized by brilliant wit and rich humor, that were always
under the control of a warm and good heart. Tlie following is an extract
from a speech delivered in consequence of the rejection by the House of
Lords of a reform bill which had been passed by the House of Commons :]
T HAVE spoken so often on this subject, that I am sure
•*- both you and the gentlemen here present will be obliged
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
539
a bit ol
ih reason-
3, infidel,
country ;
:ioi3s per-
p in arms
srals and
J orders?
not agree
r brother-
continu-
ten times
heir best
' Nantes,
hting his
splendid
thought,
ayonet is
ler it is
ridicule,
you the
f Europe
r Smith.
ergyman of
'ere always
an extr.-ict
5 House of
umons :]
am sure
3 obliged
:o me for saying but little, and that favor I am as willing to
confer as you can be to receive it. I feel most deeply the
event which has taken place, because, by putting the two
Houses of Parliiuieui:. in collision with each other, it will im-
pede the public business and diminish the public prosperity.
2. I feel it as a churchman, because I cannot but blush to
Bee so many dignitaries of the Church arrayed against th
wishes and happiness of the people. I feel it, more than all,
because I believe it will sow the seeds of deadly liatred be-
tween the Aristocracy and the great mass of the people.
4. The loss of the bill I do not feel, and for the best of all
possible reasons— because I have not the slightest id^a that it
is lost. I have no more doubt, before the expiration of tne
winter, that this bill will pass, than I have that the annual
tax bills will pass; and greater certainty than this no man can
have, for Franklin tells us there are but two things certain in
this world— death and taxes.
4. As for the possibility of the House of Lords preventing,
«re long, a reform of Parliament, I hold it to be the most ab-
surd notion that ever entered into human imagination. I do
not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the Lords to
stop the progress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the
great storn )f Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent
Mrs, Parti agton on that occasion.
5. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great flood upon that
town— the tide rose to an incredible height— the waves rushed
in upon the houses, and every thing was threatened with de-
struction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm,
Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the i i
door of her house, with mop and feathers, trundling her mop, ^'^^'^
squeezing out the sea-water, and vigorously pushing away
the Atlantic Ocean.
6. The Atlantic was roused ; Mrs. Partington's spirit was
up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unequal. The
Atlajitic Ocean beat Mrs. Parting-ton, She was excellent at a
but she should not have meddled with a
i|^'*n 'fitftpt-'
it v<"*icc__
64t
THE SIXTH BEADfiB.
tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease — be quiet and steady,
You will beat Mrs. Partington. Stdnby Smith.
64. TAXES THE PRICE OF GLORY.
JOHN BULL can inform Jonathan what are the inevitable
consequences of being too fond of glory — Taxes I Taxes
upon every article which enters into the mouth, or covers the
back, or is placed under the foot ; taxes upon every thing
which it is pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell, or taste ; taxes
upon warmth, light, and locomotion ; taxes on every thing on
earth, and the waters under mb earth ; on every thing that
comes from abroad, or is grown at home ; taxes on the raw
material; taxes on every fresh value that is added to it by the
industry of man; taxes on the sauce which pampers man's ap-
petite, and the drug that restores him to health; on the ermine
which decorates the judge, and the rope which hangs the
criminal; on the poor nian's salt, and the rich man's spice; on
the brass nails of the coffin, and the ribbons of the bride ;— at
bed or board, couchant or levant, we must pay.
2. The school-boy whips his taxed top ; the beardless youth
manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle, on a taxed
road ; — and the dying Englishman, pouring his medicine,
which has paid seven per cent., into a spoon that has paid fif-
teen per cent., flings himself back upon his chintz-beJ, which
has paid twenty-two per cent., makes his will on an eight-
pound stamp, and expires in the arms of an apothecary, who
has paid u license of a hundred pounds for the privilege of
putting him to death. His whole property is then immediately
taxed from two to ten per cent. Besides the probate, large
fees are demanded for burying him in tlie chancel ; his virtues
are handed down to posterity on taxed marble ; and he is then
gathered to his fathers, — to be taxed no more.
Stbhbt Shite.
FORENSIC AND JUDICIAL.
Ui
65. THE UNION
["Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inueparablo !"-.Wbb8TM.J
rpHE Union I The Union 1 The hope of the free 1
-^ Howsoe'er we may differ, in this we agree:—
Our glorious banner no traitor shall mar, * /j;
By effacing a stripe, or destroying a star I ' '
Division! No, never I The Union forever I
And cursed be the hand that our country would '.ever I
The Union I The Union I 'Twas purcha^od with blood I
bide by side, to secure it, our forefathers stood •—
From the North to the South, through the length of the land.
Kan the war-cry which summon'd that patriot band I
Division I No, never! The Union forever !
A-id cursed be the hand that our country would sever I
m.
The Union I The Union I At Lexington first,
Through the clouds of oppression, its radiance burst:—
But at Yorktown roll'd back the last vapory crest,
And, a bright constellation, it blazed in the West'l
Division! No, never! The Union forever !
And cursed be the hand that our country would sever I
IV.
Its heavenly light
The Union I The Union !
Chee-s the hearts of the nations who grope^in the night,— 4*-Uvvs^
Ana, trwart the wide ocean, falls, gilding the tides,
A pat^ to the country where Freedom abides !
D'viiion! No, never! The Union forever !
And cursed be the hand that our country would eever I
_ V.
The- Union I Toe Union 1 In God we repose I
We confide in the power that vanquish'd our foeg!
542
TH|B EIXTH READER.
The God of our fathers,— Oh, still may He be
The strength of the Uniou, the hope of the free I
Division 1 No, never 1 The UMion forever I
And cursed be the hand that our country would sevei I
Db Hajeb JAirvm.
66. THE DESTINY OF i^MERICA.
TX/E stand the latest, and, if wo f;iil, probably th<. last, ex-
' ▼ periment of self-government by the people. We have
begun it under circumstances of the m. .„ auspicious nature.
We are in the vigor of youth. Our grov^th has never been
checked by the oppressions of tjianny. Our constitutions
have never been enfeebled by the vices or luxuries of the Old
World. Su -h as we are, we have been from the beginning :
«imple, hardy, intelligent, accustomed to self-government and
self-respect. Ti.- Atlantic rolls between us and any formi-
dable foe.
2. Within our own territory, stretching through many degrees
• of latitude and longitude, we have the choice of many prodlicts,
and many means of independence. The government is mild!
The press is free. Religion is free. Knowledge reaches, or
may reach, every home. What fairer prospects of success
could be presented ? What means more adequate to accom-
plish the sublime end ? What more is necessary than for the
people to preserve what they themselves have created?
3. Already has the age caught the spirit of our institu-.,., '^
tions. It has already ascended the Andes, and snuffed the ' '
breezes of both oceans. It has infused itself into the life
blood of Europe, and warmed the sunny plains of France, and
the lowlands of Holland. It has touched the philosophy of
Germany and the North, and, moving onwr-^ to the South,
has opened to Greece the lessons of her bettc ^ys.
4. Can it be that America, under sucn circumstances, can
betray herself? that she is to be added to the catalogue of
republics, the inscription upui; whose ruins is, " They were,
3?'0BLe^'?IC AND JUDICIAL.
543
Forbid it, my couutrymen I forbid it,
b'lt t'lej are not?
Heaven I
thecal. ' IfaTl'"" "" """"^'"^ "^ ^°»"^ ^en to
tuples a. 4?t :b:::LTa Jm '"^' r ^"'^^^ °^ - -
«. .nts of her columns and her pal ° e ' '° '"7' *■■» '""K"
— ' <- -. She .„ ^tC^rr^c.rr^p':: .
aolif:vr;rtr;tpt:ne?;:r^ r "^-""-'
She was conquered bv her „'"'/'"='' »P™ ""^ Hellespont
hands of her oTn pe„X- T^n ''rT ' ""^ '"" ''^ «=»
work Of destrnctlol:'"!?. J:~ "rttr" "" *"'
rupt, ons, banishments, and dissensions ' "^ °"" '=°"
City yet re::;:s'pro„7e;tri:°he"'';' ■': '''' '"'^ ^'-"^
decline, venerabl/in the liel !f r '""'' "'*''= '■" '■'^'
the composure of death The f ?''«^'""' """^ '"'•°' "^ i»
paths win by her deslye™ """"'" "^^ '"' '™™"^"' '" *« «
of herXt" T ZTT'"' ""' ™"™^ °- *^ '0-
C»sar had' Lstd the EnCr T ""T.h" ^'"'^ '«'™
«ndn„,g the swarms nf^r XT \ Goths, and Vandals,
aire. g^„ LhTe Rn f' """'P'"'^'' ""'^ "'>''» "»»
«e.: .ought and s„d ^ "^-^ '>'='-^»d Rome. The legions
8 ^""'' ''"'""' people offered the tribute-
• .'":*«::' rfeStir "d^' ''^' ''''•■ ^^'^ ■■=• "- « «
uoi, 10 leei a profound sense of tho ^^.^—-.m ,
^-1^ V) ulic to all future ajresl "m J"^T^""'' "^'^ "*
uiuie ages I What vast motives press
%u
THE SIXTH READER.
apon uo for lofty efforts ! What brilliant prospects invite cm
enthusiasm I What solemn warnings at once demand our
vigilance and moderate our confidence ! Stobt.
67. REPUBLICS.
rHE name of Republic is inscribed upon the most im
perishable monuments of the species, and it is probable
that it will continue to be associated, as it has been in all past
ages, with whatever is heroic in character, and sublime in
genius, and elegant and brilliant in the cultivation of arts and
letters. It would not be diflScult to prove that the base hire'
lings who have so industriously inculcated a contrary doc-
trine, have been compelled to falsify history and abuse reason.
2. It might be asked, triumphantly, what land has ever
been visited with the infiuences of liberty, that has not flour-
ished like the spring? What people has ever worshipped at
her altars without kindling with a loftier spirit and putting
forth more noble energies 'i Where has she ever acted that
her deeds have not been heroic ? Where has she ever spoken,
that her eloquence has not been triumphant and sublime ?
3. With respect to ourselves, would it not be enough to say
that we live under a form of government and in a state of
society to which the world has never yet exhibited a parallel ?
Is it then nothing to be f^pe? How many nations, in the
whole annals of human kind, have proved themselves worthy
of being so ? Is it nothing that we are republicans ?
4. Were all men as enlightened, as brave, as proud as they
ought to be, would they suffer themselves to be insulted with
any other title? Is it nothing, that so many independent sov-
ereignties should be held together in such a confederacy as
ours ? What does history teach us of the difficulty of insti-
tuting and maintaining such a polity, and of the glory that,
of consequence, ought to be given to those who enjoy its ad-
vantages in BO much pt-rfection and on so grand a scale ?
5. For,
the idea <
territory
accumulat
or procons
sense — em
and know
perpetuate
all the en(
men are
exercise, tl
ible sway,
and conflic
light of phi
of heroic i
seated and
THANE
Welcc
Full in mj
The blood.
How beau
Who woul
That we c(
Why sits i
I should hj
Secure, an(
Porcius, be
Thy life is
When Rom
The Roman
Fall'n into i
FOBKNSIO AND JCBICIAL.
iis
«,„ J"'' ?" ""^ "''"^ ''" """■«' ^''-'ki'ig aud sublime ll,a„
lie dea of an „„perial republic, spreading ever an exL „f
terntery „,„„ i„„e„se than .l,e ..„,pi,.e „f t,,e Caesar^ tl e
accumulated conquest of a thousand yeai-8-witl,„ut dLL 1
or p,oco„s„,s, or publicans-f„„„ded f„ the ml^ 7cTmr.;
se ,se-emp:oy,ny within itself „„ arms but those of reZo-
.nd l^nowa to ,ts subjects only by the blessings it be tews „,
P rpeluates, yet capable „f directing, against a foSlTfoe
all the energies of a military despotism,-a republic ill.ch
men are completely insignificant, ani prindples 'a .d "a ^
r:::y't:f "'•"' '"h^^""""'-' - p-cefiiundirr r
Ind cZictr ^ '° """ ""■"' """"'"^ ""''' ''-i""' habits k'^
li^ht „f ,^-, ^ ,°'"'"°'"' ^"^ '"'"S''-^ '" <»"■ i"»titntions the
f he if "r^ "'f V' " -^-""^ ■•" ">^ associati n
l.ero.0 achievement and extended domination and dee,,.
Mated and formidable power. "^
eS. CATO'S SPEECH OVER HIS DEAD SON.
[With a heroic but dignified expression.]
JHANKS to the gods I my boy has done his duty.^
A Welcome, my son I Here set hin. down, my friends
Full m my s.ght ; that I may view at leisur; '
How beautiful ,s death, when earn'd by virtue I
Who would not be that youth f-what pity is it
That we can d,e but once to serve our country I
Why s,ts this sadness on your brow, my friends?
I should have blush'd if Cato's house had sto./
Secure, and fiourish'd in a civil war -
Porcius, behold thy brother I and remember,
Ihy hfe IS not thy own when Rome demands it I
When Rome demands !-but R.>.c is now . . n.ore I
Ihe Roman empire's fall'n !--(0h I cur.s'd a, l.ition I)-
Pall n mto Cesar's hands I Our great forefathers
/\-\JtvA)Ai
546
THE SIXTH READ
Had left him naught to conquer but, Ms country*—
Porcius, come hither to me I— Ah I my son,
Despairing of success,
Let me advise thee to withdraw, betimes, ^Jmv^. ^^•'''>^
To our paternal seat, the Sabine lluld,
Where the great censor tuil'd with his own hands,
And all our frugal anceston were bless'd
In humble virtues and a ji'.ral life.
There live retired : contem. thyself to be
Obscurely good.
When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
The post of honor is a pnvate station I
Farewell, my friends I If there he any of you
Who dare not trust the victor's clemency,
Know, there are ships prepared by my command
Their sails already op'ning to the winas,
That shall convey you to the wisli'd-for port.
The conqueror draws near— once more, farewell!
If e'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet
In happier climes, and on a safer shore,
Where Caesar never shall approach us more 1
There, the brave youth with love of virtue fired,
Who greatly in his country's cause ex^^ , od,
Shall know he conqu.er'd I The firm patriot there,
Who made the welfare of mankind his car •
Tho' still by faction, vice and fortune cross'd,
Shall find the generous labor was not lost.
Adsibox.
69. WFO IS THERE TO MOURN?
TN the spring of the year 1774, a robbery was committed ly
-■- some Indians on certain land adventurers on the river of
Ohio. The whites undertook to punish this outrage in a sum-
mary way. They attacked travelling and hunting parties of
the Ind
murdert
chief ce
the friei
vengean
2. He
ensued.
Logan, t
But, lest
which so
iQe£seng(
more.
8. Of 1
whole ort
eminent c
duce a sii
chief."
4. "la
Logan's c
came coU
Course of
in his cabi
whites, thi
'Logan is
5. "I ha
iiijuries of
blood, uud
not even g.
'Irop of mj
called )n i
Domy : I h)
I lejoic ut
that mine
not turn on
forLo2-an?
fOBBNSIO AND JUDICIAL.
647
vengeance " ""^"'^'^^ '■^^"'■" P^^^-^od hia
2. He accordingly signalized himself in th«
ensued T}i« t., r , """seii m the war wljicli
Loir h . ' '"'"'" *^"^'"^^^' "'^d «"'^d for peace ' J
wb,ch so d,«ti„g„i,hed a chief ubaented Imnself tTeM' 1 v
n.e.se„,er, the i-„U„„.i„, .,.„,, ^ „ ,,^ J^^ ^^ -^ ^^^^_
8. Of this speech Jefferson says ■_" I ,„,^ m,.ii
whole cations of Den,„sth,.„e8 Td'cicero L !f """'
e.ineo. 0. ., if Europe h. .urni^'dLlti, ;T„r
iTf." """'° ""^'^^ '"'''™ • '^^ ^^-^" »' Logat; ';:;:
4. ■■! appeal to any white ma- ,„ say if ever he entered
Wan's cab,„ hungry, and he g„,e him ,t ™eat : I e" r be
ca...e cold am. naked and he clothed „ot. DurLrthe
^ourse 0. the last long and bioody war, Logan remai, "d'i
wnites, that my oor.ntrymen pointed as th,.y passed and said
Logan IS the friend of white men ■ •"''■•■''■ "'"' «•"<!,
wti:s\vi:r':""cire,^crrit\^^^^
b-ood, and ..provoked, „urde:;r:,';' t 'r tlTS' ^:^:
not even .p,„.,„g„y „„„,„ ,„j „„ "Wan
called m me for revenge. I have sought it: I have killed
I at mine !, " "'P'^"" = """ "» "'" "'"■'"'■■ ■> *""?
that nnne ,s the j„y „f ,ear , Logan never felt fear : he wiP
not turn on his heel to save h life Wh„ i. .i, •
for Logan? .Nutono." '""• "ho ,s there to m„urn
LOOAM.
048
THE SIXTH BEADSB.
70. BLACK HAWK'S ADDRESS TO GENERAL STREET.
TTOU have taken mo prisoner, with all my warriorH. I nm
A much grieved, for I expected, if I did not defeat you, to
hold out much longer, and give you more trouble before I wur-
rendered. I tried hard to bring you into ambush, but yoiir
last general understands Indian fighting. I determined to
rush on you, and fight you face to face. I fought hard. But
your gTiiis were well aimed. The bullets flew Ifko birds in the
air, and whizzed by our ears like the wind through the trees
in winter. '* ^ ^'
2. My warriors fell around me : it began to look dismal : 1
saw my evil day at hand. The sun rose dim on us in tlio
morning, and at night it sank in a dark cloud, and looked like
a ball of fire. That was the last sun that shono on Bluck
Hawk. His heart is dead, and no longer beats quick in his
bosom. He is now a prisoner to the white men. They will
do with him as they wish. But he can stand torture, and is
not afraid of death. He is no coward. Black Hawk is un
Indian.
3. He has done nothing for which an Indian ought to ho
ashamed. He has fought for his countrymen, the squaws and
pappooses, against white men, who came, year after year, to
cheat them and take away their lands. You know the cause
of our making war. It is known to all white men. They
ought to be ashamed of it. The white men despise the Indians,
and drive them from their homes. They smile in the face of
the poor Indians to cheat them. They shake them by the
hand to gain their confidence, to make them drunk, and t«
deceive them.
4. We told them to let us alone, and keep away from m \
but they followed on, and beset our paths, and they coiled
themselves among us, like the snake. They poisoned us by
their touch. "e were not safe. Wp HvpH in Hon«.o.. Wn
- — o "
looked up to the Great Spirit. We went to our father. W«
rORENfllO AND JUDICIAL.
549
REET.
3M. I arn
jat you, to
jforo I Hur-
, but yoiir
rraincd to
lard. But
irilB in tlio
ti the trees
dismal : I
us in tho
coked like
on Black
uick in )ii»
They will
ure, und is
iwk is an
6 We culled a great council, and built a large fire The
P'nt of our fathers arose and spoke to us to aveL our
H»,„l, . , ! u . "" '■™''y' «"1 'I'" I'eart of Black
Hawk .„e ed b.gh i„ ,„■» b„,„„, „,,„„ ^^ ,„, ,.^ ^ J' -^
r:rd cottrdt: "" ''"'^- '•" '^"■- -"' -''■■•■»
6 Farewell, my nation I Black Hawk tried to save To,.
- .e wii, H:::„^;%:rcTi t^B j'L:kr^-'"^'
ight to bo
[uaws and
3r year, to
tho cauHe
en. They
le Indians,
bhe face ot
}m by the
ik, and to
r from lis J ,
hey coiled
)ned us by
O "
ther. W*
71. THE INDIAN HUNTER.
WHEN the summer harvest was gather'd in
AnI .»,/''' f^'"^ "^ "'" ^'^^^"«'' ^'•^^ white and thin 4iU.
And the ploughshare was in its furrow left, ' /
An Indian hunter, with^unstrung bow, ^
Lookd down where the valT^fay stretch'd below. '
n. •
He was a stranger, and all that day
Had been out on the hills, a perilous way,
But the foot of the deer was far and fleet
11 i'l'l^^P* ^^ ^-- the hunter's feet,
^ ...„,,, xuuiiiigs passed o'er him then.
As he stood by the populous haunts of men.
^-:£^':*^-w>'w-p^^^s§^'
BliO
T^E SIXTH READER.
III.
The winds of autumn came over the woods
As the sun stole out from their solitudes,
The moss was white on the maple's trunk
And dead from its arms the pale vine shrunk.
And ripen'd the mellow fruit hung, and red
Were the tree's with^r'd leaves round it shed.
17.
The foot of the reaper moved slow on the lawu
, And the sickle cut down the yellow corn- '
The mower sung loud by the meadow side
Where the mists of evening were spreading wide,
And the voice of the herdsman came up the lea^
And the dance went round by the greenwood tree,
V.
Then the hunter turn'd away from that scene.
Where the home of his fathers once had been
And heard by the distant and measured stroke
That the woodman hew'd down the giant oak
And burning thoughts flash'd o'er his mind
Of the white man's faith and love unkind.
VI.
The moon of the harvest grew high and bright
As her golden horn pierced the cloud of whitel,
A footstep was heard in the rustling brake, "iv^.,
Where the beach o'ershadowed the misty lake
And a mourning voice and a plunge from shore ;^
And the hunter was seen on the hills no more.
«
vn.
When years had pas.s'd on, by that still lake-side
The fisher look'd down through the silver tide,
And there, on the smooth yellow Hand rUspIa-^'^
A skeleton wasted and white was laid, ^ "'
And
That
'THINK
-'- can bla
Mount Hop(
Oi
SI
as he looker
beneath at
with gold, th
broad plains,
be blamed, if
passing, by i
the hands of
2. As the
the mountain!
at, if they b
beneath the £
eaw-mills ?
3. Can we j
minded savagi
plating the p
marking the ^
into the wilde
man, there is e
the land of my
1 "Tt, +i
■till hunt the d
FOREJfSIC AND JUDICIAL.
vvds stiJl grasping- a hunter's bow.
LONOMLIOW.
551
IP'l^^lA*^
72. RIGHTS OF THE INDIANS DEMTOBD
Mou„t Hope, .,at :.Lt ™;::tir " ''"-' "- -" <-•
Op where tho gorgeous east, with ricl,„i'l,.„H
Shower. cWa^g. bar..rio ^^^^ ^t"-
as he looked down and beheld thp i.... i
beneath at a .™„er s, n ' ^ h "^ 'f Tr,,"""'' ?''^'''«'
with gold, the slanting beams 1, 1- T "'^'" '''"^''"S
broad plains, the island g,™pr 3 °°f "" ™'^"'' *e
be blamed, if his heart bmeJ'wHhirT 'r''-^"'" >>«
Pasaing, by no tardy pro ess from ."'.r.':'' "'"""'' " ""
the hands of the stranC) ""' "' ™''"°' *»'»
at, if they beheld l^thhj^' ™"''^' *="" '' *■« """^ered
beneath th'e :^r':l-Z"Zn , ""f '''''''"'"^
eaw-mill8? ' "'b.ng.place disturbed by his
^inde'dl^r inr:*' '--"y """ '"'-'■ --strong.
p.ating the ii;.:zz;':j. ^2 :r - "™'^-
marking the gigantic strides with wl,L he T' '^^
mto the wilderness, would fold s a™ nd «T .Iwf"^ »^'"^ I
552
,THB SIXTH READEB.
restrained in my bark canoe. By those dashing waterfalls I
will still lay up my winter's store of food ; on these fertile
meadows I will still plant ray corn.
5. "Stranger, the land is mine. I understand not these
paper rights. I gave not my consent, when, as thou sayest,
these broad regions were purchased for a few baubles, of my
fiithers. They could sell what was theirs ; they could sell no
more. How could my father sell that which the Great Spirit
Bent me into the world to live upon ? They knew not what
they did.
6. " The stranger came, a timid suppliant, and asked to lie
down on the red man's bear-skin, and warm himself at the red
man's fire, and have a little piece of land, to raise corn for his
women and children ; and now he is become strong, and
mighty, and bold, and spreads out his parchment over the
whole, and says, ' It is mine.'
1. '* Stranger, there is not room for us both. The Great
Spirit has not made us to iive together. There is poison in
the white man's cup ; the white man's dog barks at the red
man's heels. If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither
shall I fly ? Shall I go to the south, and dwell among the
graves of the Pequots? Shall I wander to the west!— the
fierce Mohawk — the man-eater — is my foe. Shall I fly to the
eaat ? — the great water is before me.
8. •' No, stranger ; here I have lived, and here will I die ;
and if here thou abidest, there is eternal war between me and
thee. Thou hast taught me thy arts of destruction ; for that
alone I thank thee ; and now take heed to thy steps ; the red
man is thy foe.
0. " When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle
by thee ; when thou liest down at night, my knife is at thy
throat. The noonday sun shall not discover thy enemy, and
the darkness of midnight shall not protect thy rest. Thou
ehalt plant in terror, and I will reap in blood ; thou shalt sow
the earth with corn, and I will strew it wi4t) ashes ; thou shalt
go forth with the sickle, and I will follow after with the scaip-
FOEENSIC AND JUDICIAL. 553
Btebstt.
ftV/Vi-wtV,
73. LINES TO A FALLEN LEAP
O^HOU little, yellow, floating atom
^ Thou waiting-maid on lovely aut'uran, I ^^ d^^,
Thou harbinger of winter sprays, „+-. ' "
Thou leave-taker of summer days— ^
How oft, in brooding o'er the past v,
(For memory's dream must always last V^
Ive gazed on thee, as on the storm
And howling blast you're by me borne,
And thought thee like the many gone-
The friends who leave us here alone
This day-bright and free from sorrow
Dead, cold, and buried on the morrow I '
i. Thou little atom, I've thee seen
In all thy prime, in all thy green •
,-Ere severed from the parent stem'.
Thou wert a lovely, blooming gem •
When the wild, roving honey-bee '
Would rest its wing and light oa thee.
Now thou art an outcast, driven
By every breath of wind from Eeaven.
Oh, is it not too often thus
•Thou little fallen leaf, with us?
At first we're blooming, bright, and green
Agam-the shade of what we've been '
'ry
MlOHASD TbbvaK.
u
554
THE SIXTH EEADBB.
74. T^RYBURGH ABBEY.
[In the following beautiful poem of Dryburgh Abbey, all the principal
characters that flgure in the wonderful creations of Scott are pertinently and
appropriately introduced. Henry Giles, in his " Illustrations of Genius," also
pays a glowing tribute to the great novelist's ftme.]
TTE has left that which nothing cau takvi from him,except
*•-*- that which sweeps letters from the earth—a fame wiiich
hee in all that is lovaible— a fame which gatliers its applause
from the grateful friendship of civilized generations.
The consolation that he has administered to desponding
spirits ; the cheerfulness with which he has banished care ;
the mirth with which he has banished sadness; the tragic
grandeur by which he has drowned individual sorrow ; the
stirring events by which he has shaken the torpor of indo-
lence ; the gentle, the gay, the heroic, the humane emotions
with which he has agitated so many souls,— these are things
which are deathless and which are priceless.
There is no standard of exchange by which the gifta of
genius can be balanced with the goods of earth ; and though
such goods should attend on genius in tvery variety that men
desire, they could never be taken foi- its wages or its equiva-
lent. No temporal station could have added to Scott's dignity ;
and all factitious contrivances for posthumous importance, if
perfectly successful, would have been nullified by the compass
of his true immortality.
His name is to us above the proudest of the Pharaohs ; and
we would not give the least of his romances for the greatest
of the Pyramids.
'rpWAS morn— but not the ray which falls
-*" The summer boughs among,
When Beauty walks in gladness forth,
With all her liglit and song;
'Twag rnorn— but mist and cloud hung deep
Upon the lonely vale,
'OPTICAL AND POPULAB. gSS
"'eio out upon the jfalo.
»■ For he whose spirit „t, ^j, ^^^^
wi nations into life
»pr. .d flowers aud fruitage rife _
Whose geuius, life a suu, i^„ J''
Had fled forever from the fauie,
•I«ve, fr,eod8hipofmaulci„d|
8. To wear a wreatJi in ^7
His spirit swept afa'r"" """^'*' ^^^^'■^•^
^ae ight of moon or star ;
To clnnk immortal waters, free
J^rom every taint of earth,-
To b^-eathe before the shrine of life
Tbe source whence worlds had birth.
4. There was wailing on the early breeze i ,
^ And darkness in the sky ' ^"^^
When with sahio ^1
wiu sable pluaie. and cloak, and naU
A funeral train swept by '^ ' '^'^
Alethought--S, Mary, sbiefd us well I^
iha other fovms moved there
The n hT "' ""'^^ -^therhood,^
The noble, young, and fair.
«-Wa8itadream?-howoftinsto
We a,,.^ "Can this be true?" '
WhUst warm Imagination paints
_ Her marvels to our vi^«,
^-th's giory seems a tarmWd crown
To thai wiiioh we behold,
656
THE SIXTH READER.
When dreams enchant our sight with things
Whose meanest garb is gold.
6. Was it a dream ? — Mctliought
The "dauntless Harold" passed me by, —
The proud "Fitz-James" with martial step,
And dark, intrepid eye.
That "Marmion's" haughty crest was there,
A mourner for his sake,
And she, — the bold, the beautiful,
Sweet " Lady of the Lake."
T. The "Minstrel" whose last lay was o'er,
Whose broken heart lay low.
And with him glorious "Waverley,"
With glance and step of woe ;
And "Stuart's" voice was there, as when
'Mid fate's disastrous war,
He led the bold, ambitious, proud,
And brave "Vich Ian Vohr."
8. Next, marvelling at his sable suit, V'>,-a-
The "Dominie" stalk'd past,
With "Bertram,"— "Julia" by his side,
Whose tears were flowing fast;
" Guy Mannering," too, moved there, o'erpower'd
By that afflicting sight;
And "Merrilies," as when she wept
On Ellangowan's height.
9. Solemn and grave "Moukbarns" approach'd,
Amidst that burial line.
And "Ochiltree" leant on his staff, (^*Av^
And raourn'd for "Auld Lang Syne,"
Slow march'd the gallant " Mclntyre,"
While "Lovel" mused alone,
For once " Misw Wardour's'? image left
That boHjni's fuitiiiul throne.
14.
POLITICAL Al^D POPULAR.
10. With coronach, and arms revers'd,
Forth came '«McGregorV' dan,
Red DougaiV' cry peal'd shrill and wild-
•'Rob Roy V bold brow look'd wan '
And fair ««Diana" k,Wd her cross, '
And blessed its sainted ray
"ThaTr ': r/ ^'^^ "^^^ '«" «w
That I should see this day I"
11. Ne^t rode, in melancholy guise,
W^th^sombre vest and scarf, ,^^^
557
i^*^/'-^
o- i^j "" """ scarf,
Sir Edward, Laird of Ellieslaw,
Ihe far-renown'd "Black Dwarf r
Upon his left, in bonnet blue
And white locks flowing iV^e,
The pious sculptor of the grave -
Stood "Old Mortality." '
12. « Balfour of Burley,»-.. Olaverhouse.--
The Lord of Evandale »—
4nd stately "Lady Marglret,"
Whose woe might not avail ;
fierce "Bothwell" m u;^ u
. AsfromthetUtto:^^^^-'^^-^ ^^
And pale "HabakkukMuck'lewrath,"
Who cried "God's will be done!"
''• ^;'Jf tl' ""' ^ ^°"°^ -^^*« rose,
Pass'd she-the modest, eloquent.
And virtuous "JeanieDeane ;"
And "Dumbidikes," that silent 'laird.
Wth love too deep to smile, .
And "Effie" with her noble fr'iend,
The good "Duke of Argyle."
14. With Inftu ip^fc „.,j ,
- „• -a.,a and beaiiiig hiffh.
Dark "Ravonswood- advanced
558
THE SIXTH READER.
Who on the false "Lord Keeper's" mien
With eye indignant glanced ; —
Whilst graceful as a lonely fawn
'Neath covert close and sure,
Approached the beauty of all hearts,
The "Bride of Lammermoorl"
-fe^M,
16.
Then "Annot Lyle," the fairy queen
Of light and sun, stepp'd near
The " Knight of Ardenvoir," and he,
The gifted Highland seer;
"Dalgetty,"— " Duncan,"— "Lord Monteith,"—
And "Ranald" met my view,
The hapless " Children of the Mist,"
And bold " Mac Oonnel-Dhu."
16. On swept "Bois Guilbert,"— "Front de Boeuf,"-
"De Tracey's" plume of woe;
And "CoBur de Lion's" crest shone near
The valiant "Ivanhoe."
While, soft as glides a summer cloud,
"Kowena" closer drew.
With beautiful "Rebecca," peerless
Daughter of a Jew 1
It. Still onward like the gathering night
Advanced that funeral train,
Like billows when the tempest sweeps
Across the shadowy main.
Where'er the eager gaze might reach
In noble ranks were seen
Dark plume, and glittering mail, and crest,
And woman's beauteous mien.
18. A sound thrili'd thro' that length'ning host ;—
Methonght the vault was closed,
Where, in his glory and renown.
Fair Scotia's bard reposed.
THEp^
itselj
according
organ for
sublimitv
sayings,
pression c
—Imperad
standing •
2. Impl;
world,"-— a
of his own
well act-
enemy as
dier's attiti
a consular
record.
3. Marius
B a dunge(
^'m to deatl
of exalted i
wjr/d man, a
*. But ib<
caprice of f
chains ; the
Rv OtKo* ~
— .• 'V npc
liis natural pi
POLITTCAL AND POPULAR.
559
And from ray vision fled —
But ah I that raonrnful dream proved true-
The immortal Scoir was dead I
75. MARirrs IN PRISON.
THE peculiar sublimitv of thpp..r«, -^^
"self, „„r i. it at a fto 6*1^^ "^r' '"'' """ ^^P™"
organ f„,.thegra„der„.„ve.elrft;„T "'f '" "'''''"'"«
sublimity muet be loot.d fori R™ """''• •'<""»
s^yinga. Where, agatli" v™ fi"?" '"" """ '■" ^"""^
standing , a .peech of i.perat„,~rgra„;e„n ' ""^^ *" ""
2- Implying that he, who waa "tlT„ f \
worH,»_a„d, in r„ard to alUth !'"'"" """ "^ "" *•»''
of his own, ionld exnll« ,t t """""''' "'" "■"P-'^s^tafVe
well act-should dTel I^'""''''''"'''"'^ >">'>.e in his fare-
enemy aa th: Lt wi.^ rr„fa"~""' ^'""'^ """' ""^ '-'
dier's attitnde. If hU had an """""■■="» '"■■i in a sol-
a consular n,.ies ' andt a,r'':T'''''-"''"' '"''''"^ had
record. ' ^' ^ " ^'"™' ''^ e™<l<=st story np„„
/a "ti!tdTsi::L"rrr;;: "—'- -
Ins nat;ra>~Xes7'"' "' ""^ "'"""*" "'"-'^ '"
t*
660
THB SIXTH BBADEB.
6. By what marvels drawn from heaven or from earth, did
»nrl . r^"l^ °^'° '''' "^""' '^^^«* iH-mself with the
purple, and place between himself and his assassin a host of
Bhadowy hctors? By the mere blank supremacy of great
mmds over weak ones. He fakci^uUeU the slave, as a rattle-
snake does a bird.
6. Standing, "like Teneriffe," he smote him with his eye
»nd sa,d ^'Tune. homo, audes occ dere C. Mariumr'-Dosl
thou fellow presume to kill Caius Marins? Whereat, the
reptale. quaking under the voice, nor daring to affront the
consular eye. sank gently to the ground-turned round upon
his hands and feet-and. crawling out of the prison like any
other vermin left Marius standing ;. solitude as steadfast
and immovable as the Capitol. t. ^
76. MARIUS.
piLLARS are fallen at thy feet,
■*■ Fanes quiver in the air.
A prostrate city is thy seat—
And thou alone art there.
2. No change comes o'er thy noble brow,
Though ruin is around thee ;
Thine eye-beam burns as proudly now
As when the laurel crowned thee.
8. It cannot bend thy lofty soul.
Though friends and fame depart;
The car of fate may o'er thee roll,
Nor crush thy Roman heart
i. And genius hath electric power,
Which earth can never tame*
POLITICAL AND POPULAB.
Its Uash 18 still .),(, saiuo.
fi. The dreams we loved in early life
May melt like mists away •
i^iKe Larthage m deny.
«• And proud hones in the human h^art
■May be to ruin hurled,
Like mouldering monuments of urt
Heaped on a sleeping world. '
1. Yet there is something will nof die,
Where life hath once been fair •
Some towering thoughts . ,11 rear' on high,-,
oome Roman lingers tli. re.
561
Ltdia Mabia CasuK
W. A LEGEND OF BRBGENZ.
niRT round with rugged mountains,
^ The fair Lake Constance lies.
In her blue heart reflected '
Shine back the starry skies.
And watching each white cloudlet
Float silently and slow,
You think a piece of heaven
Lies on our earth below 1 1
2. Midnight is there ; and silence,
Enthroned in heaven, looks dowi.
Upon her own calm mirror,
IJpon a sleeping town;
For Bregenz, that quaint' city
Upon the Tyrol shore,
Has stood above Lake Constance
A thousand years and more.
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(716) 872-4503
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662
TH£ SIXTH UBADBB.
8. Her battlements and towers,
From off their rocky steep, L'\jWiHU
Have cast their trembling shadow / '
For ages on the deep ;
Mountain, and lake, and valley,
A sacred legend know
Of how the town was saved one night
Three hundred years ago.
4. Far from her home and kindred
A Tyrol maid had fled,
To serve in the Swiss valleya,
And toil for daily bread ;
And every year that fleeted
So silently and fast,
Seemed to bear farther from her
The memory of the Past.
6. She served kind, gentle masters,
Nor asked for rest or change ;
Her friends seemed no more new ones,
Their speech seemed no more strange
And when she led her cattle
To pasture every day.
She ceased to look and wonder
On which side Bregenz lay.
6. She spoke no more of Bregenz
With longing and with tears ;
Her Tyrol home seemed faded
In a deep mist of years ;
She heeded not the rumors
Of Austrian war and strife ;
Each day she rose contented
To the calm toils of life.
i4^
yfNW^,
9.
10.
t. Yet, when her master's children
Would, clustering, round her stand,
r
11. A
POLITICAL AND POPULAR.
She sang them ancient ballads
Of her own native land ;
And when, at morn and evening,
She knelt before God's throne,'
The accents of her cliildhood
Eose to her lips alone,
8. And so she dwelt ; the vailey
More peaceful year by year ;
When, suddenly, strange portents
Of some great deed aeemed near.
The golden corn was bending
Upon its fragile stalk ; -friT^,
While farmers, heedless of their fielda,
Paced up and down in talk.
9. The men seemed stern and altered,
With looks case on the ground ; '
With anxious faces, one by one,
The women gathered round.
AH talk of flax or spinning,
Or work was put away;
The very children seemed afraid
To go alone to play.
10. One day out in the meadow
With strangers from the town.
Some secret plan discussing.
The men walked up and down ;
• Yet now and then seemed watching
A strange, uncertain gleam,
That looked like lances 'mid the tree..
That stood below the stream.
11. At eve they all assembled.
Then care and doubt we're fled •
With jovial laugh they feasted; '
The board was nobly spread.'
66H
i
C<A1
564
19.
THE SIXTH BEADBB.
The elder of the village
Rose up, his glass in hand,
And cried: "We drink the downfall
Of an accursed land 1
"The night is growing darker;
Ere one more day is flown,
Bregenz, our foemen's stronghold,
Bregenz shall be our own!"
The women shrank in terror
(Yet Pride, tc^, had her part) ;
But one poor Tyrol maiden
Felt death within her heart
13. Before her stood fair Bregenz ;
Once more her towers arose ;
What were the friends beside her?
Only her country's foes I
The faces of her kinsfolk,
The days of childhood flown.
The echoes of her mountains
Reclaimed her as their own I
14. Nothing she heard around her
(Though shouts rang forth again) ;
Gone were the green Swiss valley»,*
The pasture and the plain ;
Before her eyes one vision.
And in her heart one cry,
That said : " Go forth, save Bregen^
And then, if need be, die !"
16. With trembling haste, and bneathless,
With noiseless step she sped;
Horses and weary cattle X^
Were standing in the shed: ^\f' '
She loosed the strong white cnarger,
That fed from out her hand •
POLITICAL AND lOPULAB. 66fi
She mounted, and she turned his head
Towards her native land.
16. Out—out into the darkness-
Faster and still more fast;
The smooth grass flies behind her,
The chestnut wood is past:
She looks up ; clouds are heavy I
Why is her steed so slow?
Scarcely the wind beside them
Can pass them as they ga
17. "Paster," she cries; "0 faster I»
Eleven the church-bells chime ;
"0 God," she cries, "help Bregena,
And bring me there in time V
But louder than bells' ringing,
Or lowing of the^kine^__^ vU ^
Grows nearer in the midnight
The rushing of the Khine.
»
18. Shall not the roaring waters
Their headlong gallop check?
The steed draws back in terror j
She leans upon his neok
To watch the flowing darkness:
The bank is high and steep ;
One pause,— he staggers forward ^va--'JU
And plunges in the deep. '
19. She strives to pierce the blackaeBs,
And looser throws the rein ;
Her steed must breast the waters
That dash above his mane.
How gallantly, how nobly.
He struggles through the foam !
And see, in the far distance
Shin© out the lights of home I
566
THE SIXTH READBB.
20. Up the steep banks he bears her,
And now they msh again
Towards the heights of Bregenz,
That tower above the plain.
They reach the gate of Bregenz
Just as the midnight rings,
And out come serf and soldier
To meet the news she brings.
21. Bregenz is saved I Ere daylight
Her battlements are manned: i^-'-^v^M
Defiance greets the army
That marches on the land-
And if to deeds heroic
Should endless fame be paid,
Bregenz does well to honor
The noble Tyrol maid.
22. Three hundred years are vanished.
And yet upon the hill
An old stone gateway rises
To do her honor still.
And there, when Bregenz women
Sit spinning in the shade,
They see in quaint old carving
The charger and the maid.
23. And when t.. guard old Bregenz,
By gateway, street, and tower,
The warder paces all night long,'
And calls each passing hour • '
"Nine,-.ten,'-.eleven,"Le cries aloud.
And then (0 crown of Fame I)
When midnight pauses in the skies.
He calls the maiden's name I
Misa A. A PROOTOR.
78,
£
II
B
S(
((
H
^u'
(fVJlo^,
tJi^ El
K<
Ai
H(
Ad
To,
Ha
An
Ne
Pes
Hai
Wi
Tur
Th^
To
2. He
((
Sha
\^
One
The
POLITICAL AND POPULAR.
667
I't-vJI
78. THE FIRE.WORSHIPPERS.HFrok-LallaRookh.-')
"nUT see— he starts— what heard ho then?
-^ That dreadful shout I— across the glen
From the land side it comes, and loud
Kings through the chasm ; as if the crowd
Of fearful things that haunt that dell,
Its ghoiils and dives, and shapes of hell,
Had all in one dread howl broke out.
So loud, 80 terrible that shout!
"They come— the Moslems come 1"— he cries,
His proud soul mounting to his eyes :—
. , "Now, spirits of the brave, who roam* ,: J ^
'^*'A.r.t Enfranchised through yon starry dome,
Rejoice— for souls of kindred fire mv.L
Are on the wing to join your choir I" '
He said— and, light as bridegrooms bound
To their young loves, re-climb'd the steep *
And gain'd the shrine-his chiefs stood roundJ
Their swords, as with instinctive leap.
Together, at that cry accurst,
Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst.
And hark I—again— again it rings ;
Near and more near its echoings '
Peal through the chasm. Oh! who that then
Had seen those listening warrior-men.
With their swords grasped, their eyes of flame
Turn'd on their chief-could doubt the shame,
Th' indignant shame with which they thrill
To hear those shouts, and yet stand still ?
yvM-^i
.^lli^.
5
avitc
2. He read their thoughts-they were his own-
" What! while our arms can wield these blades, U^^v^ L^
bhall we die tamely— die alone? '
Without one victim to our shades, ^^(^
One Moslem heart where, buried deep,
The sabre from its toil may sleep?
668
THE SIXTH READER.
No— God of Iran's burning skies I
Jftidv.), Thou scorn'st th' inglorious sacrifice.
No— though of all earth's hope bereft,
lj\S't
Life, swords, and vengeauce still are left.
We'll make yon valley's reeking caves Lt,^^
Live in the awe-struck minds of men, 1
Till tyrants shudder when their slaves
Tell of the Ghebers' bloody glen.
Follow, brave hearts I— this pile remains
Our refuge still from life and chains;
But his the best, the holiest bed,
Who sinks entomb'd in Moslem dead I"
MOOBS
79. THE IRISH EMIGRANT'S MOTHER
OCOME ! my mother, come away, across the sea-grer q
water j
0! come with me, and come with him, the husband of thy
daughter ;
! come with us, and come with them, the sister and the
brother,
Who, prattling, climb thine aged knees, and call thy daughter-
mother.
" I come, and leave this land of death— this isle of desola-
Xiy' This speck upon the sun-bright face of God's sublime creation,
Since now o'er a]y)ur fatal stars the most malign hath risen, ',
When Labor seeks the Poorhouse, and Innocence the Prison.'
'"Tis true o'er all the sun-browrj fields the husky wheat is
bending ;
rris true God's blessed hand at last a better time is sending :
"lis true the island's aged face looks happier aad younger,
.h
But in tl
hu
"When I
kn
Too oft, n
Too well 1
hie
When fret
of
"But then
We bowec
sati
We felt th
Just as th(
" But now.
bree
No bird of
No far-ofi" j
Naught bu
latic
" So, mothe:
Down to th(
Forgetting
Come, let ui
"They tell u
How once itt
0! if that SI
Ply where tl
" So. come
wftte
■
POLITICAL AHD POPCLAB. 669
"When health breathed out ia every breeze, too oft we've
known the fever— " we vo
Too welUemember n,a„y a time the mouroful taak that brought ^
When freshness fanne'S' the S„n>mer air, and cooled the glow
of Autumn. ^
"Bat then the trial though severe, still testified o„r patience
We bowed w,th mingled hope and fear, to God's wise dispen
sations ; ^
We felt the gloomiest time was both a promise and a warning
Just as the darkest hour of night is herald of the moZ^ ^'
" ^"* brlaktri^ ^" *''' ^^''^ '^P'°''- ^° ^°P^^"^ °^°^°''°g
No bird of promise in our hearts the gladsome song awaketh ;
No far-off gleams of good light up the hills of expectation! '
Naugh but the gloom that might precede the world's annihi
lation.
T)nlT 1 ' r u °' '^'^ ^''^' "°^ '^* ^'^^ ^'h"^^^^ lead 'em ^
Down to the ship that wafts us soon to plenty and to freedom ; "^^
Forgettmg naught of all the past, yet all the past forgiving •
Come, let us leave the dying land, and fly unto the living. '
''They tell us, they who read and think of Ireland's ancient story
How once its Emerald Flag flung out a Sunburst's fleeting glory;
1 If that sun will pierce no more the dark clouds that efface it
Fly where the rising Stars of Heaven commingle to replace it.
"So, come, my mother, come away, across the aea-irreen
water ; **
570
01
01
' /
THE SIXTH READEB.
come with us, and come with him, the husband of thy
daugliter; ^
come with us. and come with thom, the sister and the
brother,
Who, prattling, climb thine aged knees, and call thy daughter--
mother." ^.— __ s""^*
^ il^^ ^f,^!"^ '^"^'■"°' ^° *^*y-^bey this inspiration :
^ "" tbn '"'"''^'"^ *''^'' °^ ^^^^'^ ^°^ y°"*^^"J ^^^^^'^
Go, clear the forests, climb the hills, and plough the expectant
prairies ;
Go, in the sacred name of God, and the Blessed Virgin Mary's.
^ " But though I feel how sharp the pang from thee and thine to
sever,
To look upon these darling ones the last time and for ever •
Yet in this sad and dark old land, by desolation haunted, '
My heart has struck its roots too deep ever to be transphnted.
^ It *^?'^"^ ^^'''' '*^" ^^^' "^"' ^^^^'^"^h the trunk is dying-
They wine around the yet green grave where thy father's
bones are lying ; j «^i »
Ah I from that sad and sweet embrace no soil on earth can
loose 'em,
Though golden harvests gleam on its breast, and golden sands
m its bosom.
If "'^ Tothe?; """ *■"" '"" *^ ""'"^'' -^ «""- -0 -y
POLITIOAL AND rOPULAB. 571
Far flu. «.J t,',e proudest do^o that would hang in .p,e,.d„.
"'° 'ZIZ, '"'■ -^ '="''^""' "'* -^ "'^ -^« »d o,d
Leave me hove iu peace, with my memories and devotions •
Leave me ,„ s,y. of ,„„. f.^.^r. grave, aud as 2' 'Cv'ens
Let not, since we were joined iu life, even the grave divide us.
""'"tdttir '"" "" '^" ''"'' ^' •'' ^-- •>--
For the^mighty flreshipa o'er the sea will bring the expected
fhou'ltjladiy spare from thy growing store a little for n,y
"Eemember with a pitying love the hapless land that bor.
V - f
Ai every festal season be its gentle form before you •
679
THE SIXTH READER.
Hit-
When the Christ mas caudle is lighted, and the holly and ivy
glisten, ^**^
Let your eye look back for a vanished face— for a voice that
is silent, listen I
"So go, my children, go away— obey this inspiration ;
Go, with the mantling hopes of health and youthful expecta.
tion;
Go, clear the forests, climb the hills, and plough the expectant
prairies ;
Go, in the sacred name of God, and the blessed Virgin Mary's."
D. F. M'CABTHr.
F
80. ENGLAND'S PRESENT,
^OR nearly two hundred years, until within the present
century, she. has not met her match on lake or ocean,
gun to gun and man to man— and certainly not yet among the
nations of Europe.
3. She has consequently rested for ages secure from the
devastations of war. Since the Norman invasion nc hostile
, foreign force has found footing on her shores. The jutting
y^ul^i cliflf which 9he presents as her nearest point to Europe,
"That pale and wUte-feced shore,
Whose foot spurns back the raghig ocean's tides,"
is typical of the defensive power of this island people. But
her power, beyond her own rock-bound coast, is on the sea
alone :
" Her match is on the mountain wave.
Her home is on the deep ;"
and though there, on her own proper element, she is all-power-
ful, yet on land, in the wars of Europe, she has, except in two
memorable instances, acted but a secondary part.
8. H(>r
Df sailors
with men
Do home I:
4. But
under shel
agi'icultur
Sliakspeat
gives in tl
ure of the
5. His ]
at the pre
they belon
leased, for
one to do
|P('.''.iV would as
' 6. And a
peasant pai
to "the i
ferred, and
ery," with :
laurels to I
Sebaatopol.
as to go."
1. Ireland
diers for th
into the rai
poetry in th(
"A
I E
'11
But Irishmo:
British 8ervi(
the natural i
ranks of the
y and ivy
voice that
1 expecta*
expectant
Mary's,"
'CARTHr.
POLITICAL AND POPULAR.
578
tf u.lois, an,l out of ilu-so nhe supplk-s abuncianlly hor navy
w. h .nen whose live« have been on the ocean, and who Cw
DO home but the deck. Sl.e never lacks sailor;
4. But her miners and manufacturers, who ..ve and work
atiirtutr-.r "' ? '"^' '''-'''' '■" ^^'^ "^- ^^^"^ ; -^
Sh ks a" LthT '"^^"^*-^« ^- -'itary adventure
^ lesfn t 1 '"'""^'^^' appreciation of character,
gives in the second part of his King Henry IV a ii.st m .!!!
ure of the military predilection of tht Eu^l^i^^^:^
6 as Moumy and Bull Calf may be fairly taken thenCd
at the present time, as representatives of t e clas 'to which
hey beong When drafted as soldiers, one begs to be ^^
leased, for ,f he go, '< his old dame will be undone or eomt
one to do her husbandry and her drud^-eiv •" and IZ IT f '
%hf would as lief be hanged as to go." ^ ^ ' ^' '*''''' 'V*'^^''^
' 6. And at no time, down to the present day, has the British
peasant panted for the tented field, or been c'gor to dv
the immment deadly breach." He has always pro'
ery, w, h the home comforts of the English cottage to the
laurels to be won, and the limbs to be 'lost, at Watr loo o
l:tt:f' ^°^ ''' "^-^ P-^' '<^ -uld a; lief be ^iTged
diels fotth?r-rT''"'' •°^"'' ''^ '''^'' ^^"^'"^-t «f Mi-
dlers for the British service. Her sons have been starved
mto the ranks of the army; and.there is more truth than
poetry in the doggerel triplet of Daniel O'Connell : Z^^
"At famous Waterloo,
I ^ Duke Wellington would have looked blue.
If Paddy had not been there too."
B«t Irishmen, though fond of war, have ,.„ love for the
Br.t,sh servoe. They enter .'t „„,y f..„„ „eee..itv ; a„7..-nl::
raiiis 01 the army can no longer be filled iu Ireland.
1 ||-1.<-\M
674
THE SIXTH READER.
8. Great Britain, therefore, cannot raise an army for conti-
nental service ; but has been compelled to resort to the em
ployment of foreign troops, and to enlistments in foreign
countries. Her necessities drove her to try even ours ; and
il^&L^t ^'^^ ^" ^^'' boundless wealth, and with the spindles which
t^- t/conquered Buonaparte quadrupled, she is able to bear but an
Dferior part in the present conflict of mighty nations.
9. It is evident, therefore, that Great Britain, powerful as
she IS on the ocean, is comparatively feeble everywhere oflf
her own soil, and out of the range of the guns of her men-of
war. "Her home is on tiie deep." There, too, was the home
of her predecessors, Tyre, and Carthage, and Venice. Like
them in the days of their prosperity, she has foreign posses-
sions quite disproportioned to the power of her own people ;
and like them she must trust to foreign mercenaries to defend
those possessions, and to hold them in subjection.
10. Besides her inability to raise men, her military arm is
paralyzed by a vice inherent in her system. Her armies are
not well officered. Commissions, up to a certain grade,
are the subject of purchase and sale, not the reward of merit!
By this the morale of the army suffers, and that too even to
the highest in command ; for the General-in-Cliief himself, if
he have military experience, must be selected from those
who have bought their way, instead of those who have
fought their way, to high military rank.
11. Her soldiers are as brave as any on the face of the
earth ; but all who have attended to the details of the war in
the Crimea, must have felt the great superiority of the French
over the English organization and command. The French
commissariat has from the first been better; their medical
staff better; their corps of engineers better; and fewer mis-
takes have been committed by their officers.
12. All this is perceived and felt, and the proud spirit of the
British nation is wounded and revolts at the contrast ; and
the ministry is censured for what is inherent in the system,
*nd not under their control. Great Britain had in times past
a Marl bo
tween th(
they were
which the
13. Hei
ago durin,
hough ^vi
ation, anc
fDoNOSO C
following ext
reception as a
rPHERE
-*- become
in former (
great poets
inspiration,
elevating o
human and
the B(Jok of
it Petrarch 1
fi"om that h
splendid brij
2. In the
and of the h
contained th
In its first ]
things— in it
gins with Ge:
alypse of St.
3. Genesis
the world, as
as the first t
MISCELLANEOUS.
«T5
they JrT'll 1 ^r'"™''"""'''™ »« bat o.oeptfLs:
1^8-1. .vi«,in that time sl,o\„» ,„„,,. ,llf Zt.d 7 '' '
M.on, and treWed he,- ^anufactu... a.^ntlt """"
81. THE BIBLE,
great poela of tho W,.,t.n Tut ' "^ <"'^'"' "■" "»
.plendid brightness of his ZlgT """™ "'^ '"' *""
an'of"tb:;„t^ "r'l'r vts rt r--' "-''^•
contained that which was, „ L; , " ^ ^'.™".'^ "-"■• '»
I., its first pa^e is recorded beinLt: " '°. ™'"°
%p-e Of St. .x;wS;r:z;,i::r ^'"' '•--
3. Genosis is beautiful as tho first br.oze which ---fr-' ^
iiio world as tfio fii-cf a ■ • , " ^^''len ictfcKiiea
576
THE SIXTH READER. •
^^■
, first sun that rose in the East. The Apocalypse is sad, like thp
last throb of nature, like the last ray of light, like the last
glance of the dying; and between that funeral hymn* and
that idyl we behold ail generations pass, one after another
before the sight of God, and one after another, all nations.
4. There all catastrophes are related or predicted, and therr
fore immortal models fur all tragedies are to be found there
There we find the narration of all human griefs, and there
fore tiie Biblical harps resound mournfully, giving the
tone to all lamentations and to all elegies. Who will again
moan like Job, when, driven to the earth by the mighty hand
that afflicted him, he fills with his groanings and waters with
his tears the valleys of Idumea?
6. Who will again lament as Jeremiah lamented, wander
ing around Jerusalem, and abandoned of God and men ? Who
will be mournful and gloomy, with the gloom and mournful
ness of Ezekiel, the poet of great v/oes and tremendous punish
ments, when he gave to the wiuds his impetuous inspiration,
tke terror of Babylon ? Who shall again sing like Moses
when, after crossing the Red Sea, he chanted the victory ol
Jehovah, the defeat of Pharaoh, the liberty of his people f
6. Who shall again chant a hymn of victory like that which
was sung by Deborah, the sybil of Israel, the amazon of the He
brews, the strong woman of the Bible ? And if from hymns ot
victory you pass to hymns of praise, what temple shall evei
resound like that of Israel, when those sweet harmonious
voices arose to heaven, mingled with the soft perfume of the
roses of Jericho, and with the aroma of Oriental incense ?
1. If you seek for models of lyric poetry, what lyre shall we
Qnd comparable to the harp of David, the friend of God, who
listened to the sweet harmonies and ca'ight the soft tones of
the harps of angels ? or to that of Solomon, the wisest and
most fortunate of monarchs, the inspired writer of the song o(
Bongs ; he who put his wisdom into sentences and proverbs,
and finished by pronouncing that all was vanity?
■ 8. If you seek for models of bucolic poetry, where will you
find thei
patriarcl
were fric
the syml
9. A I
race bes
readino- i
yet finish
is com put
which, wi
the origi
studies, tl
without h:
which, wii
vealed.
10. A p
which kno
those whic
that whicl
takes plac
diets all t
tained and
treasures o
11. A bo
shall fold 1
fa'nt away,
pale, will r
word, and a
83. INPI
WHEN it
strono"
sition, when<
MISCELLANEOUS.
577
w,th„„t l.,.tor,cal documems, we are mstruoted in hi Lv f
wh.h, w.tho„t phyaical studies, the >aw. of nt^TZ' Z
10 A prodigious book that, which sees all and knows all.
which knows the thoughts that arise in the heart of ^0!".
those wh,ch are present to the mind of God • whioTv!
that which passes in the abysses of the sea and ^S T
takes place in the bosom of the earth „ , oh rite '^
d.cta all the catastrophes of nations, Inrinwchlrr "■■'■
.a,„ed and heaped together all the tre'asnrl ofme „/ :„r
treasures of justice, and all the treasures of vengr„ce
«l n f u° ■ ? "'°'''' ^<'""<""''°. "Wcl', when the heaven. v .
ball fold together like a gigantic scroll, and the earth sr>'^-
ant away, and the sun withdrawits light, and the sTa,l go "
pale wdl remam alone with God, because it is his eZnZ
word, and shall resound eternally in the heavens.
D0MO80 Cosni.
I
83. raFWENOB OF PAaAN CLASSICS ON RELIGION
..-, when-J .- aXs ThelZr -htclfr : Z
25
578
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
If
heart of the fortress ; and such are the tact'ca craployod by
paganism, which seeks to take revenge upon Christianity.
^ 2. Established on the most favorable ground, that of edu-
^>' cation, we have seen it batter literature, philosophy, the arts
and sciences ; then, under the pretext of regeneration, animate
them with its spirit, enroll them under its banner, and march
upon Christianity itself, which is the heart of the place, the
true aim of all its attacks.
3. To prove the progress of the enemy on this point, and to
show that classic paganism tends to the entire ruin- of Chris-
tianity, is the important matter upon which we shall enter.
4. Classic paganism ruins Christianity in causing it to be
forgotten, to be contemned, to be altered. Let us examine
things as they are. From the family, where, generally speak-
ing, he has received but a Puperficial knowledge of Christian-
ity, the child enters an establishment for public instruction,
where he remains for seven or eight years. If not the first, at
least the second Latin or Greek book put into his hands is
pagan ; the third is pagan, the fourth is pagan, and, in fact,
all are pagan, to the end of his studies.
6. His daily and' hourly occupation is to read, to translate,
and to commit to memory all the doings of paganism, from the
exploits of the gods to those of the warriors, the orators, and
the philosophers. In the classes nothing is heard but iLe
names of Romans and Carthaginians. To identify the students
more completely with these models, the classes are divided
into two camps, and the youth is either Greek or Roman,-^
Scipio or Annibal.
6. The explanations of the professors never, or very rarely
furnish him with Christian notions. He lives in the midst o,
paganism ; his horizon never, except by some unusual circum-
stance, extends beyond the limits of Greece and Italy. The
Holy Mountain, the Palatine, Thebes, Sparta, Sfarathon, the
Thermopylre, the Tribune, the Capitol, the Areopagus, the
Forum, are the only places tipon which his thoughts, his imag.
iifttion and his memory dwell.
MISCELLANEOUS.
579
l-ving college, we kaej t hea t .Jr T" "' "• 0"
""ributes, the adventures o^the L T"' '"" '''""'y' "'^
we k„ew the Danaides I'd tht f ""t ?"*''""™ ""'""«!
Ta.,.al„s with his torme" the f!a ^ :^"''" ''"'' "'» "'-«'
a«d of OlaudiBs. ' ° ^'""'""•'='' '"''^ °f the Capitol U.
8. Without a single mistake, we co„M h, ■
biography of Minos, of ^acus ofRl,;^ , ™ 8''™" "«
of Tarqnin, of Epaminontas ° ; "'^^'^"''™''""'™. of Codrus and
and of De„osthe"erwiti;l'"°°°'°'^™"'^'.°f Cicero
and of Caesar, of OWd rf si 7"^ """ "^ '^'"^''"•ier
Lycnrg„s, Socrates PI '.o,':";!' "' ""''f' '"' "' Hon>or.
An>phitheatre, the sacr.fil ,h r "• *' '"'""» »d »«
»• In a word, T Jew In that "^'" ""'^ ''™'"-- '" "-
of distinction in Rome aM "tlenl thl ^T"' '" ^"""^ ""'■'
of G-cchns, candidates fo, glrf s"^^"'"™'"' """-^
or fn.„re priests of Jnpiter and of sTtntr^"™""' '"""^^'
«a4 a":/c':;ern:rtr::!:"'r '■"" "■" ^"-^ »' c-*-
numbers of the EpisZ; t TVall : ^^"*'' "^ ««'
saints and martyrs on onr T ! '"terrogated on onr
.ostoms, our Angus ine" our aT' ""' ^'"*»' ™' Chry.
on these kings !f ChrTs't.an t*"""""^"'- ""<> ""r Ambrose;,
fathers of the^od^", t^T^ T" P"'™°'>'^- ""^-
life i if we, their children a„d1he.hu °^ ""' '"''•""'' »'
«f the martyrs, had been'asked ^ "" °' ""' '^"""'^ =""»
were the comLts they s„,w„i .. ' °' ""'"■ "'■■«'. "bat
th. actions that commlded th! J ""*' ""=^ <=°-»P'«'"i.
future ages, it would ha.eb ^a"^::"'?' *' ^^"«-'- »'
11. The blush on „„r cheek and th ", " '""^"^ '° "»■
have excited the pitv „r atn oft ™°'.°'°""''P' "°°'<' "^^
the nakedness of onr dassicT »t i '"'o' *'"' """""ced us of "
" ia doubtless that of X otre"rs ■ '"" " °" '■'^'°^^' «
T80
THE SIXTU READER.
12. Will it be said that this deplorable ignorance on tnattori
f religion is to be dissipated later ? Alas 1 how many youuif
people, men of ripe age, in the various conditions of life, do
we know, who, from the time they left college, have dovotoi'
twenty-four hours to the study of religion I
13. How many, on the contrary, may we not cite, who, Hd
far from developing what little they knew of religion, Imvo
long, long since, lost even the elementary notions of tlio Cat-
echism 1 Thus we have shown that classic paganism con-
demns the immense majority of instructed men to an oterriul
ignorance in matters of religion. Qavum,
88. PAGAN AND CHRISTIAN CLASSICS.
TT has often been a subject of astonishment and complaint,
A that a direction almost exclusively classical should bo given
to the studies of youth in modern times ; and though it niiglit
not be difficult to detect the real cause which has operated to
froduce this partiality, which certainly must be sought ©line-
i/here than in the supposed barrenness and barbarism of tho
k.ncient Christian literature, it may be sufficient here to bear
V«8timony to the justice of such complaints.
2. For, in fact, what can be more unreasonable than to
maintain that^an acquaintance with the histories and maiinera
of the ancient Greeks and Romans.is more essential to com-
plete the instruction of ChristianSjthan the like knowledge of
the habits and institutions of their own national ancestors
and fathers in the faith ; that an English student should ba
familiar with Livy without having ever even hoard of Ingul-
phus or a William^of Malmesbury ; that he should know by
heart the sentences of Demosthenes, without being awaro that
St. Chrysostom was, perhaps, his equal in eloquence and
grandeur ; and that he should be afraid of corrupting bis La-
tini'ty by looking into St. Jerome, of wlinm Erasmus said tlisit
if he had a prize to award between him and Cicero, be should
be tem
the gre
8. Al
utteran
answer
from ea
ibnd ad
they wo
when h(
lyiug go
return t(
tain, whi
4. "-
B
O
V»
TJ
Bt
Re
As
6. Now
toms and i
as much £
those Pytt
literature c
may very v
fimystheus
other versei
Hfid thai, tl
nmtter to e
gence and i
pus, who w{
esamplos frc
MISCELLANEOUS.^
581
lro,„ earth to t 7 1^7. f '"""""""^ "" -««<.
f-d ad„,>«. to pica L'rTff '^ """"' '=°""»^' "-'
they would speak tZrtnkf:^ .T "''""' "'■'^•'« !
«heo he first „eets Zt'-wlTt" ^'""'-""«"-
lyi"g gods : we sun. of el'hlvTl . '°/"""' "'' '"^"^ •""»
fetum to this fatal LL ?t f ?"'?■ >■"' "''^ ''"8' thou
t.i«, which is the bZlll. H " "'■' "'•■'"^'""^ "'"»■'•
"«- oegmuiiig and the c«n»6 of all joy f"
A M
4. " —
• At Rome my life waa paat,
^.^
Of fabled Deities and false. A bard
Was I and made Ancbi.^s' upright son . .
« n-uch attention frotu^as thtfH '" J'"-"'''^ "^ O-te
those Pythagorean „ao Jrs spoto of bv ^ ""^ "' ''*' ""'»
"tenure .ight supply .„st i£ tCvatr;„%r' ''"'^
may very well think that fcy have 1 I ^ """"^ "'"'
Eurystheus and the altars of the ..{m ,'"""«'' "' *« """d
other verses which contbTto tr ft' ^""™' """ '"o
""J that these our doraestl , t "^ ™°"°"°i«'is ,
matter to e.ercisr wUh the T'"™ "''"''' '""■"»'' ""Ple
P-, Who was so cuHou/as C^c ™ s^! int7el' '"^^"^
exaoiplos from all history. coUccting vanou«
682
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
6. In whatever direction, on that blessed shore, we turn qui
Bteps, we shall find inexhaustible riches of every virtue of
wisdom and learning, of beauty and grandeur; to cheer the
sage, who may then detect the truth of things in an abyss of
radiance, clear and lofty j to ravish that imagination of the
young which is kindled by the splendor of eternal light : and
to satisfy in all
"The increate perpetual thirst, that draws
Towards the realm of God's own form."
1. But if a description of the armor of one hero could justly
occupy 80 many verse ^ as those of Homer and Virgil, in ex-
plaining that of Achilles and of ^neas, what indulgence may
not be granted to him who should endeavor to place before
men's eyes the grandeur and holiness of the lives and deaths
of men under the ancient Catholic state ?
8. Guizot, who, in such a question, is an authority not to
be suspected, says of the writers of the Middle Ages, who re-
corded the deeds and thoughts of holy men, "If we consider
them in a purely literary point of view, we shall find their
merit no less brilliant and no less varied. Nature and sim-
plicity are not wanting in them; they are devoid of affectation
and free from pedantry."
9. A slight acquaintance with them will, with most minds
generate a distaste for those innumerable books of later times'
which bear undoubted signs of having been written by men
who were full of themselves, and who, in composing them,
were really no otherwise occupied than in worshipping their
own miserable image.
84 CHRISTIAN ORATORS—FATHERS OP THE CHURCH.
npHE eloquence of the Fathers of the Church has in it somo
-*- 'thing that overawes ; something energetic, something
royal, as it were, and whose authority at once confounds and
MISCELLANEOUS.
583
Almighty. I„ thu midl of ^^ "!"''''' '="™°"'°'' "' ""e
defects, which beh^JT^ ' '" ^^^^P"™ "' ^ fe"
WO..S k. e, J%tt^:4\r irj^e ^rr' "'
-need cf this, the reader „ced „„Iy turn to thj •■ ^Lt ..
Vugmity,.- and the " Praise of the Patria,^l« » St [" "■"
particularly distinsuished f„. „ ■ '"'"■ S'- J^'on'e .s
hia intense kamW „a, ifcanauT""'"''''''""""'' '"'''"'
8. The collection ^„,htaetl'«:l?of'f''''''*-
monuments of patristic literal . CC: '^Zr'T
nat„ro aud delights of solitude. Frortbe rl" jf "V^"
Bethiehe. h„ bCeld the fa,, „f the ita K ^i'Th "
vast subject of rcflectiou for a ho,y auchorite I T .
death aud the vanity of I aman iL Accordingly,
view. " "° "<"■ present to his
i/a;i:r„rTf:-7Ltt-™cr:;.-e,
with everv wave '^aTa k ? ' " "'"™'" P^^^s
.0 TertZrrihe BoLtT ™" '" "^ ''"''"" "' '"^ ^^*'"-.
; 6. Part of his vindication of rplio-i-nn r«,- i *
• nth'T-' "!' "' ---"- '° «■-- Is?'^„ronde.^:
that Chnstianity should now bo oblio-pd fn /7 T°^'^®'^^"*
before her own children, as s^e tnlrV o eS ^
b fore her executioners, and that the '•Apolog-rto the fif
tiles'l^should have become the '^ Apology t! J^^J^,^
6, The most remarkable feature of this work i« fi 7,
tual development which it di«pl ' '' "^' '"*^""* ■ *^'
new order of ideas ; you feel that what
you
ushered into s
is not th*.
584
THK SIXTH READEB.
7. Terlullian speaks like a modem j the subjects of his clo-
queoee are derived from the eircle of eternal truths, a„d no"
fiom the reasons of passion and circumstance employ^ in tl,e
Eo„,an nbune or in the public place at Athens This' pr,,.'
Toly rtli r„n^°°'"' °' P''"°»°P''y « -^'idently the elTect of our
8, Had not the false deities been overthrown, and the true
w„rsh,p of God been established, „,an would have conthued
■n endless mfancy ; for, persevering in error in regard to'he
fi.st pr,nc,ple of all other notions, would have befn more o
less t,nctured with the fundamental vice. The other tracS ,"
Tertnlhan, particularly those on "Patience," the "Shows ■'the
Martyrs," the "Ornaments of Women," ,nd the "Z^rrt
fon of the Body," contain numberless bjautiful passages
females ^Tk 'T ""' "'"°"'' "'f"""'^"'e the Christian
tomed to bracelets will be able to endure the weight of chains
Jamt^er' ^r^r^^ «»^'« will become'habitutd tJ
galhng fetters. I much question whether a head covered with
sword" "'"" "" ''™™''^ ^°"« -"" y»'d '» the
10. These words, addressed to the women who were dailv
conducted to the scaiTold, glow with courage and wfth ftitt
Among the fathers of the Greek Church, two only Tre h 'uv
eloquent-SS. Chrysostom and Basil. The homills of ^e
former on " Death," and the " Disgrace of Eutropius "are r a
masterpieces. ^ ' ^*^
Chatbaubriaio).
85. ■■ I^T THE WATERS BE GATHEBED TOOETHEB "
P....P.CS 0. elocuuon, proposes hio. to youth as one of the ^sS^l!:
MlSqELLANBOUB. 535
flows with the samcrapiai y r he 21^ T'l '''' '''''^ "'""^« '-'"™'
ooMrso . n the text "L.tth fw . '''^ '^'"™ S"^''<^« ^^m it« source. The dls
Of delicto imaged. ^ nd aTd rcv:to wr"'^^''" '° """^ P^-« '" '« ^•^"
which Hhow In fho ;m™r a nrofolfj '?"f ''' ""'' ^"^P^ «-''""l"iriH.,„«,
course is one of anuTjr alt,Tu ^.Tf^' "' "'° ^^''="'^'^«- '^'^'^ d''-
It U said that the rsniml un1«l . r" °° *^° '^* ^^'^P*^'" «^ «"'«"«•
cl«Ul«hted and n^t^nTued S "^ ItTa d :T\'^"^ ''" "°^' '^"^'"^'^ --
pen and InteUisent pious m In 1 Im i f !^^ ''" '^^ '■'»'''^"*^'l ^'^'^t "« aWa
Into English. StU morn ? It t'T ""•^'^'''''^^" "^° t™«l"tl„n of the Father.
Classic ctun.e of our ereges.] "^°"'' '''' ^'"^^ '^^ '^"^ ^'^ "^^o th,
.l,„J f' ^^ """ '"^""''' "'«■■ «<"'«••'• I Bpoak o?
tliosc which are in mdvcmcnt tl,„ c . • ,
wi.,.„ » J . . """'^"•'■'" — the fountains and lirp™
When seated by the fountain from which the hrl„l,. .
gush spontaneously, have you never a A d t,ur d V^ !
.pnn«s fi.™ ti,e earth? Who has cause tfwl^^th
^r i^tzr" "^"^' ^'^ ^^^ ^^^-« ------
torv ^,'':,;;:^''^*h««-P^^' answers all. There is the his-
tory of all the waters on the face of the earth • "Jnt T
waters be ,...ereci together in one plaee/^^^t: tha .^
IZlt^^'^n ":f "^' ''^'" ^"' P^^^'"^^ ^-- -e place
to anothei, they would u.undate the entire continent.
3. Thus we frequen-tly see the ocean agitated by temnests
toucUhe shore when all this impetuosity is reduced to foam
rea.» the Lord? I have set the land the bound for tho
4. What would prevent the Rod Sea from ovorfl...!..-.
wiHclMs lower than is its bed, and uniting if. Z:::i
'08« ••* the Indian Ocean, ii
'sy
V/i
25*
was not chained in ita
f86
I'aa SIXTH BEADlca.
i>arM.«, tf. M..(h., uttemptcd it, but without success. Their
power was uvor.h.own by the power of lli.n who, in collecting
the waters „. such a place, decided that they should not pass
the bounds which lie assigned fbr them *
6. And Ood saw that it was good! Ah I without doubt the
ZZT \ ". . ""*""^ '^'''''''' "^^^" '" ''- «^^'" -pose, its
surface nppled by gentle winds, delicately tinted with pu;ple
or azure, beats not with violence against the neighboring
earth but seems to come with gentle caresses. Yes, God
judged this work good, in its connection with others
6 The waters of the ocean are the common source of all
the humidity on the earth, which it distributes by imper-
ceptible channels. Good, because, being the reservoir of our
rivers, from all parts it receives waters without ever passing
ats bounds. Good, in furnishing the vapors which are con°
verted into refreshing showers for the earth; because it en,
riches the islands, of which it is at the same time the ornament
and the rampart ; because it unites the most distant countries
by the advantages of navigation and commerce ; it enriches
history; furnishes abundantly all the necessaries of life, and bv
transporting different productions into other countries, replaces
what 18 needed in some, by the superabundance of others.
7 But is it possible to understand and fathon/the bea-ties
of the sea, with the same eye as h. who made them ..e,
them? If they obtain the approbation of the Lord, hcu bv
much more should this Christian assembly, whore the united
voices of men. women, and children, like the murmuring of
the wavoH which break against the shore, carry, even to
heaven, the >:iyflr8 which we address to the Most High I
8. A pt..f-; , c dm .^ijelters you from the tempests. The
peace whic. , e ;.. ,« .;;nong yon has not been troubled by the
• Nieueventi has made a most Imninous application of this argument
!a his beautiful " Treatise on the Existeace of God."
MISCELLANEOUS.
«67
St. Buii.
80. "IN THE BEGINOTNO WAS THE VVOllD "
'pIIE ..n.plert ,vo„l„ „r the G,»po| ,„,p,,„ ,„ j ,„, ^
-^ mufcnndcenci, all the other oroeles wh , I, ,h,. Hi 7.,
ha» dimmed ,h,.„„, ,t .heScHp,„„rEs ::"' tul'
w.«d„m, who, i„ his ad„„>„lio„ for f hh oZ -^ , 7""
ap..opriate ••,, a„d to insert it i,^ Ms Z^^'^r ''""^,'"
at .slomed larceuies of tl„. H •. T ■'" "'''-' ""«
riches to ador„ «::„: h': '■ """" """ '■""'™'' ™ "f »•"
adLatVLz:!:::: ,"'■*■" ^^ '"»"«<''' - '>'^" -
on « J word's. ■■ u r^:;:- ^^r ^ d^j ■"^*'^«°°
»
588
THE SIXTH READER.
4. The evangelist, wishing to teach us what pertains to the
knowledge of the Son of God, takes us back to the principle of
a that exists. The Holy Guost knew well those who would
attack one day the glory of the only Son of God; he saw in
futunty the sophisms by which certain men would seek to
overthrow the faith of Christians.
6. "If he was begotten," they say, "he did not exist before •'
and again. "Would that which did not exist have given him
birth F The Holy Ghost has foreseen all these objections; ho
answers a 1 by this one sentence : "In the beginning was the
Word.'' And if they tell you, If he was begotten, he did not
exist before, answer, "In the beginning he was." Before
being begotten, what was he? Reflect on this word, "In the
beginning."
6 Why speak of the beginning, since there is question of
that which has no beginning ? " It is to say that in the begin-
ning, from the origin of things, he loas; he did not hesin-he
was. He was not created-he was not made-/»e was Mn
pnus /actus est, sed erat*
7. " There was nothing before this beginning. Go back to
the begiuning of all things; stretch your thoughts as far as
you can ; go to the first day-farther still-to the beginning-
before all that has ever begun-^e was." And if he was at the
beginning, at what time was he not?
8. "But what was he? He was the Word. Whatdoes this
inean? He who was at the beginning was the Word, the
inward utterance, thought, reason, intelligence, wisdom, inte-
rior speech, sermo; speech which is substantially all truth and
^hich is trntli itself. '
9. Where was the Word ? Not in a certain place ; for that
which )s limitless cannot occupy a determined position He
was with God. Verbum erat apud Z)e«m,t- equally infinite,
beek throughout all space ; everywhere you will find God who
hlla It; ev erywhere, likewise, is the Son, himself as immense
* TT«
"?tS not liiadc, bat ho \.aB first.
t The Word was with God
MISCELLANEOUS.
ins to the
inciple of
ho would
le saw in
'■ seek to
before ;'
iven him
tions; he
was the
3 did not
Before
"In the
Jstion of
e begin-
gin—he
s. Non
back to
3 far as
ining —
> at the
689
The Word was with God"-apud Deum; that is to say, that
he was not something inherent in God-so.ething that affects
God-but somethmg that dwells in him as subsisting in him
as bemg a person in God, and another person than that God in
whom he 18 ; and this person was divine ; it was God.
St. Basiu '
87. LETTER OP ST. BASIL, DESCRIBING HIS HERMITAGE TO
ST. GREGORY NAZIANZEN.
J BELIEVE I may at last flatter myself with having found
the end of my wanderings. The hopes of being united
with thee-or, I should rather say, my dreams for hopes have
been justly termed the waking dreams of men-have remained
unfulfilled.
2 God has suffered me to find a place, such as has often
flitted before our imaginations; for that which fancy has
shown us from afar is now made manifest to me A high
mountain, clothed with thick woods, is watered to the north by
fresh and ever-flowing streams. At its foot lies an extended
plain, rendered fruitful by the vapors with which it is moist-
ened. The siirrounding forest, crowded with trees of different
kwds, encloses one as in a strong fortress.
3. This wilderness is bounded by two ravines : on the one
side the river, rushing in foam down the mountain, forms an
almost impassable barrier, while on the other all access is im-
peded by a broad mountain ridge. My hut is so situated on
the summit of the mountain that I can overlook the whole
plam, and follow throughout its course the Iris, which is
more beautiful, and has a more abundant body of water than
the Strymon, near Amphipolis.
4. The river of my wilderness, which is more impetuous
than any other that I know of breaks a<rainst tho -uttin-
rocks, and throws itself foaming into the abyss below-anTb^]
ject of admiration to the mountain wanderer, and a source of
jnjiMii
590
THE SIXTH HEADER.
profit to the natives from the numerous fishes that are found
m Its waters.
6. Shall I describe to thee the fructifying vapors that rise from
the mo.s. earth, or the cool bree.es wafted over the rippled
face of the waters ? Shall I speak of the sweet song of 1 e
birds or of the rich luxuriance of the flowering^plan
I spot "' "' ''"'"' ^" ''''' '' ''' calm 'repose or
6 It is only visited occasionally by huntsmen ; for my
wilderness nourishes herds of deer and wild goats but no^
b ars and wolves. What other spot could I exchange fo
tinder tiXT' ^'^^ '' ''' ^^"'^^ ''' ^'''-'-' ^^^ -^
V t. When I see every led^e of rock, every valley and plain
^ covered with new-born ^dure, the varied beauty of t
^ trees and the lilies at my feet de^d by Nature with the
douWe charm of perfume and cc5t^;rr;.hen in the distance I
see the ocean, towards which the clouds are borne onward my
spirit IS overpowered by a sadness not wholly devoid of
enjoyment. ^ "t^vuiu ox
8. When in autumn the fruits have passed away, the leaves
have fallen, and the branches of the trees, dried and shrivelled
are everlasting and regular change in Nature, to feel the har'
monyof the wondrous powers pervading all things-he who
contemplates them with the eye of the soul, feels the littleness
ot man among the grandeur of the universe.
St. Basil.
Vv/
88. THOU ART BEAUTIFUL, O SEA!
nnHE Sea offers us a lovely spectacle when its surface is
A . r' ""' ' "'PP'^'"^ ^"^^*'y "°^«^ the wind, it is
tinted with purple and green ; when, without beating violently
upon the shore, it surrounds the earth, and caresses her with
»w wiia embraces. But it is not this which constitutes, in the
MISCELLANEOUS.
are found
Lt rise from
le rippled
ng of tile
r plants?
repose of
; for my
, but not
lange for
vould not
ind plain
7 of the
with tlie
stance I
vard, my
3void of
e leaves
rivelled,
tile liar-
-he who
ttleness
Basil.
591
face is
I, it is
oleutly
ir with
in the
without ZZ , • '""' «='°''i'"=8t between thy shores
U.e most distant countries-because insS ? '""••
them, tho„ joiaest the nations, and belrr';*''' ^'^ -^
wealth, and to life its resources. *" """=''"°' ■""
4. But if the Sea is beautiful before men and before Go<l
.nd Of obildreu, resoundi,,, and rising up": lZnt7GTd"i
St. Bash*
89. VENERABLE BEDE.
■OLIND with old age, the Venerable Bede
Ceased not for that, to preach and publish forth
The news from Heaven-the tidings of great joy.
From town to town-through all the villagesl
With trusty guidance roamed the aged saint, .^
And preached the Word with all the fire of ^outh.
One day, his boy had led him to a vale
That lay all thickly sowed with mighty rocks
In nnschief, more than malice, spake the boy i
, Most reverend father, there are many men
x-ssc'mblcd here, who wait to hear thy voice."
The blind old man, so bowed, straightway rose up,
2.
592
THE SIXTH READER.
Chose him his text, expounded, then apph'ed ;
Exhorte-d, warned, rebuked, and. comforted,
So fervently, that soon the gushing tears '
Streamed thick and fast down to his hoary beard, if^
3. When, at the close, as seemeth always meet
He prayed, " Our Father," and pronounced aloud,
Ihme IS the kingdom and the power, thine
The glory now and through eternity,"
At once there rang, through all that'echoing vale
A sound of many voices, crying, • '
"Amen I most reverend sire. Amen I Amen !»
4. Trembling with terror and remorse, the boy
Knelt down before the saint, and owned his sin ;
Son," said the old man, "hast thou, then, ne'er read,
When men are dumb, the stones shall cry aloud ?'-
Henceforward, mock not, son, the word of God I
Living It is, and mighty, cutting sharp,
Like a two-edged sword. And when the heart
Of flesh grows hard and stubborn like the stone
A heart of flesh shall stir in stones themselves."'
90. TO THE CHRISTIANS OP ROME.
AJLhr^r^'f °^ AvTiooH:-Thi9 holy bishop governed the Chnrch ot
Antloch for forty years. Having escaped the eruel perseeatlon of Stl„
he^obtalned the crown of martyrdom in the pacific one nnder i^CS
J^' ^"^P^'-orso lauded by Pliny, his panegyrist, and by modern writen,
cruelly commanded the martyrdom of the holy blJhop, whom he sent from
Antioch o Rome under the escort of soldiers more feociouT even than t^
example ^^ at w.-^ the tolerance of pJiilosophic writers. Although Traian
The most celebrated epistle of Ignatius is addressed to the Christians of
*^e^o persuade them not to obtain the revocation of the le2:eo1
u-r.yraom prououucca upon him How often are the la«t words of Socrute.
MISCELLANEOUS.
593
the portion reserved for me, all will be well But nlas^
I foar your too te.ider compassion for me I You will r
cate the Alraightv for me ind tt. • v ^"^P'"
„ 11 " ' '^""^ ^® will 'hear your nravPi-c . p-«
will spare me because you ask it and th./j ^'''^'"'5 ^^
•new my course. ' ^" ^ '""'* commence
Him .^H^ ""f ^'^^^ ' ^ -'^o wish to please God as you please
Uira ; If you love me with a true charity you will ll
to enjoy my God. ^' ^ " '^'" ^^* "^^ g^o
unLd''7o"Hlm " ' '"' ' "°" '™^^^« — •- to be
If ;:' rpearn^jmr; HimThr^ '' ' '-' --'-
Vieldino- tn a M ' ^ ^^''^ ^^ to C["d ; but if
-ueiB, De taithtui to your own precepts
Kea, s bu t oh 1 how speedy ouch a path to heaven I
594
THE SIXTH BEADER.
,^J^
^\
to pieces, that tl.ey may become my t,™b, leaving no fr„
^e.t of my body unc„„«umed, I do not command yo,-
Peter and Paul could do so, for they were aposti buIX
"m I, mve one condemned by wicked men? Th! V
but I am yet a slave. ^ ""="=<"»«'■'? Thoy «-or« free,
1. If I suffer, tkm shall / be a freedman of Christ .1,„.
«h^l I arise ,0 true liberty. Now, in my chains I deir'
"othmg ,n th,s world-only that the beasts may be eLtfo
Imvselr n "'^ '''"■"'• '" '"^^O^-ftendono hZ, ot^^
.^"ioir '^"' '" '"^ "-■' ' '' >-"' -^ «" ■«■-
8 Forgive me but I know my own interests : the price of
victory ,s Jesus Christ , what highe- reward can bebos,^w°d
Now only do I commence to be his disciple ; all create" uli
.n the v,^ble or invisible world are indiL nt o mr^yZ
lesire is to possess my Saviour. ' " ^
9. What, then, is there to dread in the SQprching flro in the
Blow and cruel death of the Cross ; in the jaws of Smll !!
^gers, .n the lions of the amphithe'atre, wifat Z^^X^^
bo scattered, my limbs mangled, my body broken •„
.hough demons exhaust upon me their rage? I am "e'adv
.11 torments, provided I enjoy my Jesus. " '"'
10, Ah 1 what would it serve me to possess all the richc,
my liod, than to reign over the whole world I seek Hi™
who d,ed for me ; I de,,ire Him who rose again for mytak!
n. Leav. me liberty to imitate the sufferings of L 8cd •
do not snatch me from life in seeking to save me from death '■
bt me run towards that pure and vivid light. Ho wh 1'
!f ,h ,^ have compassion on me, for he knows the stS
of the bonds which draw me to my Beloved ^
12. The fire which animates and impels me can suffer m
d,m,nut>on; rather He who liveth and speaketh in me cl 1
rii:'t.fr I*!"'- --^^-^^- if.rf:";::
tiora th. away or Dements, sustain my oourttgo.
MISCELLANEOUS.
Iff no frag.
mid you,—
1 ; but what
' woro free,
Ihrist, then
8, I desiro
J eager for
heretofore,
i to arouHe
»e price of
bestowed ?
ted things
J my only
re, in the
• farnisliod
ray bones
n 5 what
ready for
le riches,
t) die for
sek Him
' lake,
uy God I
3 death ;
e whose
y desire,
strengtli
595
i.i
Av^*'
deign to direct if H "'"^''- ^^^ ^^^^^^ Christ
^n to direct it during my absence; I confide it to Hi«
providence and to your charity ^'^
91. JULIAN THE APOSTATE
rendered the most mai^^'oJ^au'^^^^^^^^^ f', ""' °' "^^•^^"^'"' »"«
This title of theologiafheshares ^thlt. thir ' '"*"'^' '"' '''''''''^'
«.nctua^, aid reUeauentTv brotr ?" T'"^ ^'^P'^"*^^ '""'^ ^-- *»>«
^eat w^' their :d'J!;sr^ftJ^;o;i:t ;'r"%r "^^^'"^"°°' -
equally renowned as a poet and omor?u i ar^'"" ''"''"'°''- "^ *«
the Apostate, we recognize orloreU t^ 2t wlir " -^S^^"^* "^""^"^
andCftJilino A^-1 *t ^ ^•i"''* "> t^" which Wiis opposed to PhillD
yE people, be attentive while 1 address you I Ye who
„ f u^ ?' ^^"^^' ^''^'^'" *° '"^ ^^^'J^ ' ^ call unto you
as from a high mountain in the midst of the world, from whence
I would that my voice should reach to the ends of tlie earth
Hearken unto me people, and tribes, and tongues, men of all
r.on(litions and of every age j ye who dwell now upon the
earth, or ye whom future ages shall bring forth I
696
THE SIXTH READER.
r
2 Let my voice stretch yet further, even unto the heavens
amidst the choirs of angels who have exterminated the tyrant
He,whom their hands are about to in.molate is not a Sihon
king of the Amorrhites, nor an Og, king of Bashan, feeble
monarchs holding under the yoke the land of Juda, a little
country lost in the immensity of the earth ; it is the tortuous
serpent, itis the apostate, that great and rare geniu'^ that
Bcourge alike of Israel and the world ; whose fury and whose
menaces have everywhere left deep traces, and whose insolent
tongue has dared to attack even the Most High
^ 3. Awaken I ashes of the great Constantine I If some feel-
ingyet dwelleth in the tomb, heroic soul, hearken to my
words. Arouse at my voice, ye faithful servants of Jesus
Chnst, who before him ruled the empire. Thou, great
prmce who didst most extend the heritage of Jesus Christ
who didst surpass in glory all thy predecessors, how weri
thou mistaken in thy choice of the man who was to succeed
thee Thus a Christian emperor didst nourish, without know-
ing It, the mortal enemy of Christ ; and thy generosity, blinded
iTast ' ""^^ '^ "'' ^'"^ ""^^ °^ ^" '""^ '"^"^^d it
4 Although the cultivation of the mind is a right common
L"l7.^''' " r'^ ^'*^ '^"^°'^' ^^ ^'«h«d to reserve to
himself this privilege, alleging this ridiculous pretext-thai
the Greek letters belong only to those who follow the Greek
religion (that is, paganism). Bythis astounding assertion, he
exhibits U8 as taking that which in nowise belongs to us.
This, for a man as literary as he pretends U> be, is indeed the
strangest of mistakes I
wtf iJ^^'f °'^ *^*' ""' ^°"^^ notsuspect his secret, and that
be would not appear to be depriving us of a very considerable
gift, considering the trifling importance we attach to these
human letters. His true motive was an apprehension lest we
should use them to refute his impiety j as if our blows derived
their force from the elegance of words and the artifices
«x language, rather than from solid reasoning supplied by
I heavens,
he tyrant
t a Sihon,
an, feeble
a, a little
tortuous
niv" that
nd whose
3 insolent
lome feel-
3n to ray
of Jesua
great
8 Christ,
ow wert
succeed
it know-
, blinded
3rited it
MISCELLANEOUS.
697
md that
derable
) these
lest we
:lerived
irtifices
ied by
•■ad ..r:';:: .^:te„:::::/"^'-^^- - - ^pea.., ^r ,.
bo corroborated by di c : " I '"ZT"'"''"''^''' '"^ "'""'i
PuWio ahould acknowidlhL :„■'"' ^"'"""^' "'»' th«
frage, would show tim ditTra h '"f'^''^ l-^ ""'•'""al suf.
to prove h,a prowes. Orotu a^for T f """ '"" ^'™a
for the spectators : for him 1 '^^ '^''""'atante, and not
J..-^ atrength, not ^0;'!.^:: raS:?,:': f.. """''"' °' ,. '
l>o^J. '*^® ^''^"t but a maimed |vu^-
'"' — «. ^'"ce ,onr wbT^J.l'ri ^^rc^
«S. M4BTTBD0M OF ST. THEODOSIA.
T^Z.t, *'' ■'°"^' ^■•«"-^-'' ^an.e, the da„,bter „, '
"''' t|r:r '""' """'^""^ ^"- -" '»-« -^ea.
And to the temple of their e-ods th^^ u i.
The brazen censer stands afofY ^ ^'' ^'' '"^^'^ «"-
They bid her throw th. "^'" '" ^Itur-stone ;
^ive^or thrtrXtrhisif "^^-^r^-^^^
to give." ^ ^^be,~thy 8on8,-thy life ig thin
Perchancesfce wavered then awhile as fmm K u,
breast ' *^ ^"*™ ^^r blue-veined
Flowed the white stream, where er«t tK i- . ,
had pressed ; '* *^^ ^'^^ ^^ ^^' fair babe
K-„,j,eu daughters and her 8on« »,«
stricken home- sons-her spouse-her
a
^-^VtlJ.*.^
698
THE SIXTH READER.
>'
I «
Her sunny youth in old Amiens, in memory's flood-tides come
Denythy Christ-burn incense here/'ugain they rudely cry-^
Never, Oh tempters of my soull-Never, Oh Christ most hi.W.f
Pensh my body 1-break my heart l-break every earthly
lijik I — SA,^^"--' •
But Christ, the Son of God adored-adored on death's dark
brink — iV'.^.
Is my eternal hope and gain-ho I it will soon be ended
And this poor life, immortal grown, will with His own be
blended. ^fAtM\_
His side was pierced," she murmured low: " Oh, joy to be like
Him I a
But lo 1 it brightens round mo now, while earth grows cold
and dim.
All hail, sweet Lord, and aagels fair P • The crimli^Tlide
flowed fast ;
She waves her hands in triumph high-and lo I the conflict's
past —
The palm is won— the glorious hosts of martyrs greet her now •
And He,lbr whom she died, lifts up the crown upon her brow!
re
Midnight hangs o'er imperial Rome, and through the murky
gloom • ' -
A little band with.stealthy steps, move towards the Catacomb i
They bear upon their trembling arms a pale and shrouded one • '>'
On-on-through all the winding ways-through many an '
arch of stone.
They glide in tears and silence, and with many a wbisper'd
prayer
Lay down the noble martyr's dust, by the red torches' glare.
The sculptured stone, the crystal vase, stained with its crimson
dyes,
To}d where the daughter of Amiens had slept for centuries.
'Tis she I— sought out in that low crypt, far in the Catacoml),
Raised up with honor— touched with kwe-borue from death'i
stilly gloom
Back i
She si
Fes, be
CJntil fr
9
insolence.
Ce. Is it
have violate
Wlent ; othe
(les come
idely cry— .
most high!
ry earthly
ath's dark
»ded,
} own be
to be like
rows cold
!)80D tide
coatiict's
ler now j
er brow.
e murky
itacorab. ^i
led one ; .''
nany an
MISCELLANEOUS.
599
ries.
aco!T)b,
death's
brow I ^ ^'^'^^^ ^^'^" '^i tier lofty
(iBtil fro™ sea to ,oa tho notes of Allohna «won I
Mk8. a. H. Dawboii.
98. ST. CECILIA BEFORE THE ROMAN PREFECT
Mmachius Young girl, what is thy name?
Cecilia. Men call me C^riUu . u /
is Christian. ''"* ' ^"' "^^ "^"«t beautiful name
Al. What is thy condition ?
J. Your .•„,„,>,, .h,„, „,, „„, ^^^^^^ ^.^^^ .^ ^_^^^_^^^ ^^^
a I'Z "'"""" °°""" *'■' •■'»»°™<'e before mef
the 8li,,-htcst idea of it . b J7 ^"" ^°""'="' '""^ "ot
I -n, with olear p.^^ Lpiy toTt ''""'°'' "^ "" *' '""J-^
f ^P;"'. «!>». for I am a„xi„„s to hear thee
- Vi^:z^, ~";° "■'- "■■- - — e
. feathern bag filled with w nd-at ,1 """" "' '""° '' '»■« »
I ,r*'i"ke into nothing , all that i« 1 1 ^ T" ''""^ "^ ° "'»'"« »
K , Al TV speeoh/f^n. he b ;: '"TT"
ineolenco. ^f'""'"?' "M been marked by
l,»f*Jll!°;°'';°™_ *" »'^»rt what ia true? s.„„ , ,
Tii.-iai,uu tne truth than r -n , . " "'"«^»e i
--,otherwiee.theirao'h;::.rt:Lt;r''^
jwlVAA*^
600
THK SIXTH READER.
Al. (Changing the discourse.) Dost thou not know that oar
masters, the invincible eni{)uror8, have decreed that those who
will not deny that they are Christians are punished, and
those who deny it are acquitted ?
Ce. How deceived are your emperors and your excellency
also ! The laws of which you speak only prove your cruelty
uud our innocence. For, if the name of Christian is a crime,
then It would be <.ur place to deny it, and you should oblige us
by tortures to confess it.
Al. Nay, it is in their clemency that the emperors liave so
decree ' ; wishing, by this means, to assure you of a means of
saving your life. , ,
Ge. Could there be more impious conduct, or acts more
fatal to the i inocent, than yours F You employ tortures to force
criminals to confess their guilt— the place, the time, and their
accomplices ; now, with respect to us, all our crime consists
m the name of Christian. And you are satisfied if we deny
that name ! But we know too well all the beauty of that
sacred name, and we cannot deny it. Better die and be happy,
than live to be miserable. You wish us to utter a falsehood ';
and iu proclaiming the truth, we inflict a greater torment on'
you than you can possib.ly make us suffer.
Al. Lot us end this discussioa. I give you two chances for
your life— sacrifice to the gods, or simply deny that you are a
Christian, and you may retire in peace.
Ce. (Smiling.) What a humiliating situation for a magis-
trate—to persuade me to deny the title by which my inno-
cence is proved, and to become guilty of a falsehood ! He
consents to spare me, in order to show more clearly his cruelty
If you admit the accusation, why make these efforts to force
me to deny that with which I am accused? If you wish to
pardon me, why not at least order means to be taken
for it?
Al. Behold your accusers. They testify that you are a
Christian. I repeat, then— deny this, and the accusation shall
immediately be dismissed ; but, if you persist in your denial,
you y
Heiitei
Ce.
my vi
reproai
you coi
Al. 1
if<; and
ilow, tl
Ce. P
but witl
Aiar not
you whe
Al. L(
Ce. Y.
princes h
Al (W
Ce. Ye
you lied i
Al. (W
Ce. Did
the powei
only have
from those
are dead ?
minister of
it, yon lie ^
Al. (Con
ness.) La
(pointing t
Ce. It se
and all thos
brass, and 1
M. My p
•directed agi
against the |
■^
MISCELLANEOUS.
901
Z:Z ""^"''"' ""•' '""^ "'- -"«d to undergo .h,
«o-, the,,, dares tlo,,peaT^":t ''y "--"vindble pri„„« ?
Cfe- Pride isdifferen from fi^ "^ ^ '""'' P'""'
but With /i,™„ess- „ ' M " ^Z'"""- , »P-I' -»' with pHde.
<•<•- »ot .„ hear „„ .t J I^^L °' '" """;■■■■ " ^o„
pri„ee« had eo„,e,red o,, y„u .t "i ''';. ,^°'' """' «-» y»">
^^. (With confusion.) ExDlain-_«v«i •
r- n,--4 "^ ^^P'a'n— explain vourself
on.. ..ave the p„.er ott h. Yo/™; f,';T '"r ^™
from those who enfoy it R„, „. ' "'''""' take life
are dead ? Say then hat ^! ^"" ■■'""" '' '" ""O'" "h"
».i~.-ater„r dea^Cb^'e'ott :;:::T;^r ^'° ^°" "«■
■t, yo„ lie without a„y advanl^e ' ^ '' ""^ '""^ 'o
(p-n^to^hetttwriridt;:::^::;---
.na".v^w;::u:e^t;vt;^^t-"- ^' ■
brass, and lead. ^' °^ °°*^'°^ ^^^-^ but stones,
^[- My philosophy makes me desnis. fh. ,•,.„,,. ,
uctcd against myself. I„,f i „ ' .~ "'"' "'°"'*« ^'neu
• the gods. ' ''"""' ^"PP"'-' % i"8ultH
8«
j:.,-
602
THE SIXTH READPJH.
Ce. You have not uttered one word but I have shown you
either its injustice or its folly. Now, that nothing may be
wanting, you are convicted of having lost your siglit. You
call gods these objects which we see are stones— and the most
useless stones ; touch them, and you will feel what they arc.
Why do you so ridiculously expose yourself to the people?
Every one knows that God is in heaven. These statues of stone
niglit be of some service if you would throw them into a
furnace and convert them into lime ; they are wearing out in
their idleness, and are incapable of defending themselves from
the flames. Christ alone can save from death, and deliver
guilty man from the punishment of fire.
These were Cecilia's last words before the judge. But Al-
raechius, fearing to brave the murmurs of the patricians of
Rome by condemning so illustrious a person to public execi»
tion, ordered her to be reconducted to her own home, where
she could be put to death quietly. By his orders she was to
be confined in the vapor-bath, and a hot fire kindled, by which
she would be suffocated to death.
But. this cowardly expedient was not successful. Cecilia
entered the place of her martyrdom with the most lively joy,
and passed the day and night without being in the slightest
affected by the burning atmosphere. In vain did the cruel
ministers of Almechius heat the furnace to its utmost power.
In vain did the burning steam fill the close, air-tight bath.
Cecilia was invulnerable, calmly waiting until her celestial
spouse would open another route for her to ascend to him.
This wonder frustrated the hope Almechius entertained, of
causing death without being forced to the extremity of shed-
ding the blood of this high-born Roman lady.
He found it impossible to do so. A lictor was accordingly
dispatched to behead Cecilia in the place where she seemed to
be sporting with death. Cecilia saw him enter, and joyfully
knelt to receive the martyr's crown.
The lictor brandiRhed his HwnrH an'^ ofj-or *br«« of-r-i'«a
left the virgin extended on the ground, bathed in blood ; yet,
wonderful to relate, she remained three days in this state.
[St. E:
•ostoin d
those mc
•orreejwi
•lessed s
disting
most pers
charms ai
bining pc
translatioi
vivacity, t
God and t
tality. Tl
the abount
other writ<
majesty, ei
and the tt
of life, the
merit. "Y
which will 1
appear^ bor
uven as the
Is wanting t
living and t
to all the 81
with truth, i
LEND 1
the f(
I am paral
dering the
human lai
cene?
2. The
light, desce
the univere
tribunal I
8. At the
most violen
MISCELLANEOUS.
603
»4. THE SECOND COMING OP JESUS CHRIST.
those n.en of loft, .^Zl^or^ZTTJ'' ■''' ^'"*^^° ^'^"^'='^- ^"^-^
•«rre.ix,uding to the archrS and slT" I" ^" ^^"'^^ °^ <^'^rti?
'l^s^^ed spirits surrounding his thro„e i„ , ! I ''''^ *^^ ^'^'^'^^ «
distinguished rank. His snbUme ° il "' ^^^''^ ''"' '^''^'" ''""^
-ost persuasive and profounCZs uSedw^r'"' ^^^'^^ *'^"^^^*^°» t'^"
Charms and penetrates at ever, ?^e ' No on. "'^ "''''^""^ ""'^""'^ ^^'^^
bining pomp of expression and depth of s^n^ T^"'' ^^*' ^^"^ *° <>«•"-
translation does not deprive his thoullftr'"' . ^'''' *^^ ^''^^^^^ ot
vivacity, Which animat^ them. mtZ^ir r\ ^^« ^""^g^ «* the
God and his angels, in the presence 0700 1^ u T'''' *° ^'^^ P'-^««"'=« <"
tallty. These aspects, which hi minV '' '"^ ^"^"'^'^^ «* "'"•mor-
the abounding nL of ht lan^ag''^^^^^^^^^^^ r "'^"' ""P-- «»
other Writer, leavingyou overp'^rreHX ^eiSt o^fa" ""r"^*^ ''^ ^"^
majesty, enveloping the soul a« it wereln a hI f """^'^ '^"'^ ^"^ble ^^
and the thunder. He depicts wt^ . ""^ '"'"'"'^ ^^'^ the lightning C>»^
Of life, the nothingness of t ts^i^ " ^ T"" " ^'^'^^^^ ^'^^ ^-^'^^'^
mont "You already behold "'vs It flV '"r' "' ^^''''^ '^"^ °f i^dgl
.Wch wmaccompan'y theco^uZaU aS'^^L^T "''? ^"^ ^^^"«
appear, borne upon the clouds of heaven Yo ! I , '"" "^"'"^ ^'^''^^t
uven as the dead ari«... from their tomb! ut tL T ^"''"' ^°"'" «»Pi°cne«,
i« wanting to the picture but he Ictaa , " '"""?"* ""' *'''™P«'' °«"»°g
living and the dead." It L in these 1 ?'' "' ^'"^ ^^^'° '^ *« i^^^o thf
to aU tl.e sublinuty of poe^" The wrrffT ""* '" ^'^^^ ^« ^^-^^^^ ^
withtn.th,.^^.4^,;,J^J„^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^''^^- euU St. Ephre^.
r END an attentive ear to wl.fit 1 ^^ • .
1^ the formidable oo„i„^ J L,d T*. " l':" ^''° "'
lamparalyzd with fear I Ah T , """■""» "^ " .
derinlthedreadf leven^ ctlld ""h?."" "''""" ^^ 1^
human language what ,nn . '"=°""°8^ What 'U,
cenef ° ^^ ' *' '°°»"' "'"' ''«^<"-ibe this mournful '
;-™.;Jrc;-r.::St^trir;:^
604
THE SIXTH READER.
refuse to support me, my eyes fill with tears, my tongue is
paralyzed, my lips tremble, my voice, interrupted by sobs,
stops, and there remains nothing in my ideas but disorder and
confusion.
4. If a clap of thunder which breaks suddenly upon the ear
excites terror in the heart, what will then be the eflfect of tlie
Bound of that trumpet, a thousand times more powerful than
the noise of the thunder? It will be heard even in the depths
of the tombs, awakening all men, the just and the sinner,
who have existed since the creation of the world.
5. The entire human race, reunited at the same time, will
appear before the bar of the Sovereign Judge ! He speaks,
and the trembling earth sends forth the dead whom she had
entombed. The ocean restores those it had ingulfed in its
abyss, and those who had been a prey of ferocious beasts ap-
pear in their proper forms.
6. A torrent of fire, flowing from the Source which gave
hirth to the sun, with the impetuosity of a sea in fury, pours
/tself upon the earth, covering mountain and valley, and con-
fluming the entire universe.
t. No more smiling landscapes, no more refreshing foun-
tains, no more streams nor rivers, bearing afar the abundance
of their waters ; the air is burning, the stars fall from the
heavens, the sun is destroyed and the moon changed into
blood.
8. A short time and all has disappeared ; the heavens rolled
yjp^ back as a scroll ; the angels have received the order to assem-
j,^' ble the faithful servants of God from one extremity to the
other, and they execute it in a moment. A new heaven and
a new earth replace the destroyed heaven and earth.
9. Suddenly the majestic throne advances, the sign of the
Son of Man appears resplendent as the sun, and its brilliancy
fills an immense horizon. All mankind have recognized the
rpyal sceptre of the terrible Monarch, How can they present
f.noiYinolTToa K^i-Trvro .Thalia nViriol" oTi^l '*nff*r ■!»»+'% 4«ti^n*»w»*i*** wifU
himf
MISCELLANEOUS.
eot
11. Each one reads the tahlot ,.e i- .. ,
have walked in the na 1 J „ !< ' '™ '"■"• '^'«"«' "■><>
"- by s,„ce,.e repe" ta J IT'/""^ "''° '"'- ^-f"-" *eir ■
to the poor and.fte raVa" atrr n "f^ '""'"' -"^
% 't„,-„g cutting the air. HeaMhe L-.. tirowT T ""=
amves ; beheld, the Judo-e com,., J ' ""' ^f""""
tte God of the univeree rnl T ° /'•""°"'«» '!» sentence ,
to eve,.y one acoornTto hr:!,^:"^" *^ *«'" -" -"<-
^eitit!r:x;t:"sr ti -•'' "■^'"'"■•"^- ^"^
^t^a.e of light; the choi JJ a Ja" ITr"'' "T" ""^
b.m and .eraphin, chant the hy„n oTJ „rv H t ' f? "'""■
-ailed Him to the ZlL '"'J """ ^'"'- '^^"'o ^^o ^,
habitants of the eanh vlr2°',T ''T' """^ "«= """-" i„. . ^
«ess. The ProphrE:! ^ '^2^^"^"'. '"- "-<>■ "^
words : ^ °*^^^^ ^18 coming in these
are opened accordine to the 1 ! °' ^'"^ ' ""•■ books
»i.-ein are witteTntt oLr t"^ t ''""' ' *™'' ''°°''»
-;w^isa„do„...„ost'se::?;t::„;r' "^ -" ''^^•^'"
'"• '^''"' '""' ""' ''-°™ "f those sinners who no. refuse
606
THE SIXTH READER.
to do penance? This is no tirae, they say, to pray, to fast,
and to give alois. Then the voice of the Judge will be heard
intones of thunder, "Show me what have been your works
and receive the reward they deserve."
n. Alas, how do we deceive ourselves I Ah, my brethren
what tears should we continually shed in anticipation of that
terrible day I
18. Behold all men assembled with pallid, faces and down-
«ast eyes, suspended as it were between life and death, heaven
and hell : before that redoubtable tribunal each one hears him-
self called-cited by name to undergo a rigorous examination.
V\ oe 18 me 1 I would explain the rest, but my voice is mute.
19. All then is examined — discussed — judged in the
presence of angels and of men. Every Christian is examined
on the promises of his baptism ; on the deposit of faith ; on
the renunciation he has made of the devil and all his works
without exception. Happy he who has faithfully fulfilled these
engagements !
20. The examination over, the good are separated from the
bad, the sheep from the goats. To the first is said, " Cmm, ye
blessed of My Mther, possess the kingdom prepared for you/' to
the second, '.' Depart frmn me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire !»
21. fou who were without charity, enemies of God and of
your brethren-you were without mercy, I shall be without
pity-deaf to the voice of my gospel. I say to you now I
know you not I And the division is made for eternity. To
the wicked, hell, with its everlasting torments; to the just,
heaven, with its immortal rewards.
22. The torments of hell I Exterior darkness— tortures-
wailing and gnashing of teeth, the worm that never dies-tbe
pool of fire— the fiery, exhaustless furnace— and to all of these
torments are assigned particular victims corresponding with
the sins of which they were guilty. All banished forever from
the presence of God 1 AH abandoned to despair \ All deli 3red
to everlasting death, who makes them his prey I
("Here Ephrem, weeping bitterly and striking his breasl^
MISCELLANEOUS. qq^
S^oir^ '"' "™^'^«"'™ """ - voice
eeaf;a!rder;ti,t' ' ""' '''" '^^^ "«' ^'^ with „,
monarch, who aboae their power the '0^""""°°' """ '""
and mothers who forget thrin h . ^ '^'"'""''° '"^e™
from the faithful pS from .h ?' T '""""■^"''' '•<'«™'
frieods, without regadL 11. ' ?'^'"' ""^''^ »»»■ *«'
for them. ^ *° """ »"'«"'»l-without one to plead
26. In vain do thev imnlorp aja .
and their flatterers. C^lwi ,, Z "" , """^ "■"'^ "*» 7
".em and force them iato tte I t^ n r T" ""^ "'f"- 1^
thev I„„t t,.„i,....„^ . ."/neaojss. Unfortunate beinn-^ 1 J<i-^.
•*"" luice luem into the ahvoo TT ^ . tf •
they look backward, impl„rir„itv li, ^'"^"""■""« ''-"ff» ' ^ -"'
of the ab^ie of et rnaf tormente ..^ """''"'r "'""'™'' ^"'^
scream, in pluuKina- i,, oh u ' °"'™ ''°P° '" ">«y
the seductions o? the flesh" w.^'^JJ: «. 7™^ -"ay b, "^j^^l
tave served the world f whe^ arl^ If pt:,,: T '"l "» '»
received life f Where are ,.„r „r -i T '^ "™ "''""" we
21. Where onr rinl, J '^'''"' "'"' »"■• f''<-'nd8 ?
forever Santa and " trr., °"/'""^-«» ' ^^-. "^ieu
refnsed' to fonowl^"! Cparr 7°'^:"- «-P-e we
we shall never again eeel a2 , ' "'"''''■''"■ w'"""
martyrs of the Lord 1 ''"'^ ''"'^*^' P™P''''t». and
28. August Mother of the God-Savin,,,. „i
OB «, penance, you who entrel^d^r:^ iTnch".::;''" "°"°'
Farewel, immltf |,tX r^;^,^^'-""' ^ernsalem ,
St. Ephbbm of KnEgaj
■n^^
608
THE SIXTH READER.
96. MY GOD I I LOVE THEE I *
Of the Latin Church According to Bossuet, Augustine U one ottU.mmZ
"^he toTr °" °'"'' ""' -traordlnar, naen wUoh*vob«e„X
MY God I I love Thee I Thou hast struck my heart wftJ. Thy
ITX Word, and I have loved Thee I HeaVen and earth, at.d
all things that are in them, tell me to love Thee ; nor do they
cease to say the same to all men, that they may be inaxcu-
2 But what do I love when I love Thee ? Not the beauty
of the body; not thQ graceful revolutions of time; not the
dazzlmg brilliancy of light, so enchanting to our eyes; not the
sweet melodies of dulcet sounds of every description; not the
aromatic fragrance of flowers and of perfumes; not manna,
and not honey. It is not these I love when I love my God •
and yet I do love light, and harmony, and fragrance; I do en'
- joy the pleasures of food and of endearment; but when I love
r J^y ^°^' ^'Sht, harmony, fragrance, food, endearments, speak
^ to my inward being ; a light shines on my s^rwhj^ri; not
hemmed m by space.
3. Harmonies are there which time interrupts not t fragrance
noc to be dissipated by a breath of wind; pleasures of taate
not to be diminished by indulgence of the palate; abiding ca-
resses endearments, over which satiety has no power to pro-
duce disgust. This is what I love when I love my God And
what IS God ? I asked of Earth, and it answered me s ' " It k
not 1 1" And all the creatures she contains within her bo«om
made the same acknowledgment.
4. I asked the Sea, and the deep abyss, the reptiles alike
and the animals which live within their depths, and thov
answered me : " We are not thy God ; search thou above what
we are.' I asked the atmosphere we breathe, and the vast
encrchng air, with all its inhabitants, thus answered rno,
Anaximenes was wrong_I am not thy God." I a^ked th«
ir
MISCELLANEO US,
609
-ure sky, the sun, the moon, the stars, and they renlied •
"Neither are we the God whom thou dost seek." "^ ' '
Jr^^'£^ :f ^^^ ?*-'•- ^^ -y '^^y^ -d which
tPll m« \l ^ " ""^ ''^ ""y ^»^' Which you are not •
:tx:r "LTrr ■"■" -" «- ---, :-k
soni ' ;'r°^'"-"' '"^ "y ««= ■■»te.,ti„n framed within my
-onl. They answered me : "By their beauty" I th.r, Td
dressed me t„ myself, and questioned : "What an Th, „ P A„d'
I answered :" A Man r_a bei„. i„ wh„,„ a body and sout
a e co,,,o,„ed tl„ „„e e.terior, the other interior. " I„ t ioh
soulTb""* ' "7 '° ''''' "y "< "h'™ • had already
sought by means of my bodily senses, Ihrouffhout all earth
up to the heavens themselves, whereve'r I oouid 1 "^
as messengers to gather light f" ^ "
Objects refer to that n, judgmg and appreciating the several
responses of earth and heaven, and of all which are con aTned
Within them, sayiriff • "Wpnrp n^f o a u . *»'« ^""tainea
made us" Th/ V *• ^''*^' ^"* ^*^ ''^ was who
made us The interior man knows this by the ministrv of
his ex enor organization ; I myself know these thing b?'
award sense ; I, i. e., my soul, receive impressions through
mg God, and it answered me : " I am not Ho, b„t He made .
St. Auqustinb.
96, DEFiilNCE OP EUTROPID'3.
In the miniatnr of preaching Th« n .i f ^ ^ * °^ ''"""''y '*"^ ^"c*^'^"
2(1*
610
THE SIXTH READEB.
convt.«!n , TV"" P"''"'' °' "'^'•""y- Chryo^tom's word, carried
conyiction to every mind, persuasion to every heart, so well did he ally th«
mo t powerfu reasoning and the tenderest pathos. Involuntary acclama,
nZ'r^ '7, ^ '"^*''' '''°''**^ ^y i>repressible admiration, ordi arily inter-
Zned nf ir""T;, ^''' ''''^'''' ""'^ P^-^^y °^ "^"^ ^°ly Arehbishop com-
plained of this, and his complaints only called forth renewed acclamations.
Other more decisive manifestations testified to his powers. A mournful
rilence, sobs tliat could not be restrained, remarkable conversions, and perma-
nent reformations, accompanied his instructions.
Seditious Antioch, on ihe eve of falling under the wrath of Theodosius, owed
her salvation to the eloquence of Chrysostom But nowhere is the Saint
more subUmo than in the defence of Eutropius.
Afl afavorite of Arcadlus, Eutropius had been elevated to the highest dignities
Ltl'T'"' ,^*' ^"'* '^'^^ ''''^ ^^"«^« ^^«^t«d the populace and army
•gainst him, and the Emperor, as weali in sustaining his ministers as he was
Imprudent in selecting them, found himself obliged to forsake his favorite.
Utterly abandoned, Eutropius fled to the portals of the Church he had so
cruelly persecuted. He sought an asylum at the foot of the altar which he
had labored to abolish. .The public hatred eagerly pursued him; a furious
populace, sustained by an undiscipUned miUtary force, surrounded and filled the
church, demanding the life of Eutropius. At this moment the Archbishop of
Constantinople made his way through the infuriated crowd, and sheltering by
his presence the poor victim, who clung to the altar in all the agony of dfr
•pair, saved for the time being the unfortunate Eutropius.
This discourse of St. Chrysostom is universally regarded as one of the most •
Bubhme specimens of the inspiration of human eloquence; he literally quelled
at his feet the unchained passions of *he enrage! crowd. The proud courtier
the powerful favorite of the Emperor, fallen from the pinnacle of prosperity
to the last excess of misery, insulted in his flight by the same people who the
evening before offered him their homage as the Idol of fortune-now obliged
to beg an asylum in the temple of the God whose minister he had persecuted-
the ferocious multitude ready to drag him from this asylum. Such was the
■cene.]
FN every season of our lives, but most especially in the
present, we may exclaim, "Vanity of vanitiesi all is
vanity!" Where now are the costly insignia of the consul-
ship, and where the blaze of torches ? Where now is the
enthusiasm of applause, and the crowded hall, and the sump-
tuous banquet, and the midnight revelry ? Where is the
tumult that echoed through the city, the acclamations whieb '"'
resounded in the hippodromes, and the flattery of the specta
fnra ? All fl^Aark o««.n ^r^A
MISCELLANEOUS.
6n
^n the g,ou„d. prcsonting to our eyes the naked tree reft of
beeu th sto.rn, so infuriate the blast, that it threaU-ued to
Jr.^ K ^, ! '" ™""' "f ' "«'" "-"i the illusion „f a
' thev"t" ; '"""r"" "^^^ *-« """^^ f— ^»'
del'Jn !J^ r™ °^ "■" ''•""«■ >>"*■ "h™ the spring
departed they were all withered; they were a shadaw and k
passed away; they were a s.noke, and it was disslZd 1 '
were bubbles o water, and they wore broken ; thJy we e a
spider's web, and it was torn '
5 Wherefore, let us proclaim this spiritual sayin. incea
.antly repeating, "Vanity of vanities! all is vanitjl" mist
a saying which should bli inscribed „n „... . .
Forum m th» k ■ , '"''=""'"' "" »'"■ garments, in the
the r I u r"' '° "" ''e^'^^y^' «" the doors, and on
the bresholds; but far more should it be engraven in eac
»an.s conscience, and be made the theme of ce-aaell medu:
tio*nelin/r'' "" "'"f "'"'"'°"' -"J hypocrisy, are all sane
tioned in the commerce of the world, it behooves each man on C»*«
each passing day, at supper, and at dinner, and in the p"'bHo
meetings, to repeat unto his neighbor, and to hea h -LtJl
S slave /b". "f' '">- '° y™ """ -»"h '» »
ingitivc slave ? but my words were not endured Did I not
pe petually remind you that it is u servant void of gratttud" J
I'Ut yoa were not willing to be convinced. ^
tuli,t ' f 'P°™"<"^ '""h P'-O'od to thee that it is not only a
dS ver'Ir ""' ,""'•' '" ""''•'"^'■"' -"■"". •'"t likewise ^
de.troyerof man. It ,s this which hath undone thee, which
wA
612
THE SIXTH READER.
A-
nath abased tl.eo in the dust. Did I not frequently observe
that the wound inflicted by a friend is more worthy of regard
than the kisses of an enemy? If thou hadst endured the
wounds my hands inflicted, perchance their kisses had not
engendered this death to thee.
8. For ray wounds are the ministers of health, but their
isses are the harbingers of disease. Where now are thy
laves and cup-bearers? Where are they who walked
Insolently through the Forum, .obtruding upon all their
encomiums of thee ? They have taken the alarm ; they have
renounced thy friendship ; they have made thy downfall the
foundation of their security. Far diflbrent our practice.
9. In the full climax of thy enormities we braved thy fury ;
and now that thou art fallen, we cover theo with our -nantle
and tender thee our service. The Church, unrelentingly be-
sieged, hath spread wide her arms and pressed thee to her
bosom; while the theatres, those idols of thy soul, which so oft
have drawn thy vengeance upon us, have betrayed thee, have
abandoned thee.
10. And yet, how often did I exclaim, Impotent is thy rao-e
against the Church ; thou seekest to overturn her from her
lofty eminence, and thy incautious steps will be hurried down
the precip.ee; but all was disregarded. The Hippodi.mes
having consumed thy riches, sharpen their swords against
thee, while the Church— poor suffering victim of thy wrath-,
traverses the mountams, valleys, woods, panting to rescue
thee from the snare. 'vm«-
11. I speak not tliese things to trample on a prostrate foe
but more firmly to establish the tipright. I am not to lacer-
ate a wound yet bleeding, but to insure sweet health to those
who are unwounded. I wish not to bury in an abyss of
waters him who is half drowned already, but to caution those .
whose bark glides smoothly on the ocean, lest they should be
wrecked at last. And how shall they be preserved ? Let them
meditat^e on^the vicissitudes of mortals. This very man, had
hs bat feared a change, had j»ot experienced a change.
MISCELLANEOUS.
613
'*A*\4,
reo'ai™ I'lL"';™ :t: ti:'*''" '""■ .""'"^■'"•'= "^'-p'- -"M
calamity, .hi" ; ■ ,: ::rr"™" .■■" -■""■^™™ i---
cile „,■ „„TO erootv tl„n ,r ^ Nothing ,s m.,re imbe.
ti.e.r are k,s ZnZmn, '*"■"" " "''^"''^ °" '"^ ' '-
surpass the universe in wealthf Dd ^ / ^' "°*
meridian of dignities? oTd 1/ ,i """^ ^'''°^ *^«
before him? l!. i f'^ "°^ '^" "^«" t^^mble and bend
egiu wdsiea witn excess of hunger- pipH rJo,, ^ *u u
aattT* """"'^' ^"'^^ ^"^-S. «>o'll a J h" pi"
sage to the grave. '.-a/JJU/, ^
14. Were this moment to be his last, he would be iittprl.
die™ from the imperia, palace ca™ lo YrXrhtfat
tnc altar 1 Pale wa, his cotlntenanoe, as thoiiRh he were an
ye would have thought hia very heart had been congealed to
fan^at.tTr""'' ^ ''t'*""' ""■' '" '■°™" and triumph in hia
tall, but that I may soften your heart's rough surface mav in
useone drop of pity, and persuade yon torfstsatisfied w"! mJ
ZZ'IT^"""' f"^ """ "" P"'^""^ '■" «"■« assembly who
reproach my conduct in admitting him to the altar, to smooth
614
THE SIXTH READER.
^
/
the asperity of thoir hearts, I unfold the history of hia woes
Wherefore, my friend, art thou offended? Because, thou
wilt reply, that man is sheltered by the Church, who waged an
incessant war on it.
16. This is the special reason for which we should glorify
our God, because He hath permitted him to staud in so awful a
necessity as to experience both the powor and the ch«mency
of the Church:— the power of the Church, because his continued
persecutions have drawu down this thunderbolt on his head ;
and her clemency, because, still bleeding from her wounds, she'
extends her shield as a protection ; she covers him with her
wings; she places him in an impregnable security, and, for-
gettiug every past circumstance of ill, she makes her bosom
his asylum and repose.
It. No illustrious conquest, no high-raised trophy, could
reflect so pure a splendor ; this is a triumph which might
cover the infidel with shame, and raise even the blushes of a
Jew. It is this which irradiates her face with smiles, and
'ights up her eye with exultation.
18. She hath received, she hath cherished, a fallen enemy;
and when all besides abandoned him to his fate, she alone,'
like a tender mother, hath covered him with her garment, and
withstood at once tiie indignation of the prince^ the ftiry of
the people, and a spirit of inextinguishable hatred.
.19. This is the glory, tho pride, of our reli-ion I What
^ glory is there, you will exclaim, in receiving an iniquitous
wretch unto the altar? Ah! speak not thus, since even a
harlot took hold of the feet of Christ-a harlot utterly impure;
yet no reproach proceeded from Jesus' lips ; He approved. Ho'
praised her; the impious did not contaminate the holy,' but
the pure and spotless Jesus rendered by His touch the impure
harlot pure. man, remember not thine injuries ; are we
not the servants of a crucified Redeemer, who said, as he was
expiring: "Forgive them, for they know not what they do?"
20. But He interdicted this asylum, you will say, by His
26
Ilia woes
uao, thou
wiiged ail
d glorify
) awful a
ch'tuoMcy
iontinued
is head ;
luda, she
with her
and, for-
sr bosom
y, could
h might
bes of a
iles, and
enemy;
e alone,
ent, and
fury of
What
iquitous
even a
impure;
ved, Ho
oly, but
impure
are we
he was
r do ?"
by His
turc of
MISCELLANEOUS.
615
.uffer, ^ '"""■ ''»' ^"^ »''™W «ufl«r what I
<
cK
97. SUPPLICATION.
|\«v~«<ja-
h\H,
ryjRB for the stubborn steed,
Making its will give heed- '
Wingthatdirecte8trii.,a ' ^•,^
The wild-bird's wai.acring flight}
Helm for the ship.s that keep ^v.^
Their pathway o'er the deep;
Shepherd of sheep that own
Their Mastc. on the throne—
Stir up thy children meek
With . lileless lips to speak,
In hymn and song, thy praise,
Guide of their infant ways.
King of Saints, Lord,
M'ghty, all-conquering Word:
Son of the highest God,
Wielding His Wisdom's rod,
Our stay when cares annoy/
Giver of endless joy;
Of all our mortal race
..avioar^ of boundless grace
Jesus, hear!
'^*VA«Kl/». iWS^
T\
616
THB SIXTH BEADSR.
2. " Shepherd and Sower thou,
Now helm, and bridle now,
Wing for the heavenward flight
Of flock all pure and bright;
Fisher of men, the blest,
Opt of the world's unrest,
Out of sin's troubled sea,
Taking us. Lord, to thee;
Out of the waves of strife
With bait of blissful life, *f^
With choicest fish good store,
Drawing thy nets to shore —
Lead us, Shepherd true,
Thy mystic sheep, we sue. ^uM*li«M
Lead us, Holy Lord,
Who from thy sons dost ward.
With all-prevailing charm.
Peril, and curse, and harm;
Path where Christ has trod,
Way that leads to God, v
Word, abiding aye, »> u>-''**f-
endless Light on high,
Mercy's fresh-springing blood.
Worker of all things good,
glorious life of all
That on their Maker call,
Christ Jesus, hearl
1. " Milk of Heaven, that pressed
From full, o'erflowing breast
Of her, the mystic Bride,
Thy Wisdom hath supplied; 'linyWu
Thine infant children seek.
With baby lips all weak,
Filled with the Spirit's dew
From that dear bosom true.
08. API
[St. Bbr]
To this ext
minds of m
C!ourt, aa th
his life is mx
Europe. Ni
bassadors wi
themselves i
the sons of 1
called upon
many. Evei
grade and ev
T SPEAE
* ymr sa
eration of
him who a
but I earm
Christ. B(
the whole \
to lose tht
as man he
\
MISCELLANEOUS.
Thy praises pure to sing-,
Hymns meet for Thee, our King,-
For Thee, the Christ;'
4. " Our holy tribute this,
For wisdom, life, and bh'ss,
Singing in chorus meet,
Singing in concert sweet,
The Almighty Son.
5. "We, heirs of peace unpriced,
We who are born in Christ,
A people pure from stain.
Praise we our God again,'
Lord of our Peace."
617
M. APPEAL FOR THE CRUSADES, TC THE PEOPLE OP
FRANCONIA.
miud, o( ma.. Helmed from £ „,. , ."'"' "" '"""" •» "«« «"
lump., milon. „d klZ^Zs ;T' J'T, '^^ °'"' "' S"™™'" "l^
th.m.*« „»,.„M„„ o, rlLstl^ Bolt"/ *^'"""' '"'■°""»''
lu lo«„ the land which „a, l.i»abidms:place-;;:7";:r'°'
as ma„ ha parsed .„:. «,» thirt/^™ wittle ehuto
6tS
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
ivJi
Of men; a land illtistrated by his miraoles, consecrated by hia
blood ; a land wherein the first flowers of the Resurrection
appeared.
2. To-day, on account of our sins, the enemies of the Cross
have lifted their sacrilegious heads ; they ravage this Holy
Laud, this Land of Promise, and none resist them ; they throv
themselves upon the city even of the living God ; they over-
turn the monuments of our redemption ; they desecrate the
holy places, reddened with the blood of the spotless Lamb.
8. Grief I their impious zeal burns to invade the very
sanctuary of Christianity, to trample under foot the mysteri-
ous resting-place where Jesus, our Life, slept for us in the
bosom of Death.
4, And you, brave men, you servants of the faith, will you
thus deliver holy things to dogs, thus cast pearls before swine ?
Ah I how many confessing their sins with tears, have there
obtained pardon since your fathers' swords purged away the
Pagan hostsl The enemy of the human race saw it, and trem
bled with rage ; he stirred up the vessels of iniquity, and he
will leave no trace, no vestige of so great a piety, if he
succeed (which God forbid I) in making himself master of the
Holy of Holies. What an inconsolable grief for all ages, for
the loss will be irreparable I
5. But above all, what confusion, what eternal reproach for
this perverse generation 1 Meanwhile, my brethren, what shall
we think? That the hand of God is shortened, that His arm
is powerless, that He calls worms of the earth to defend His
inheritance? Could He not send legions of angels, or merely
Bay the word, and the Holy Land would be free ? He can d(
whatsoever He wills. But I say to you, the Lord your Goo
wishes to prove you. He looks to the children of men, to see
whether any will take part in His grief; for the Lord has
mercy upon His people.
6. He prepares means of salvation for those who have
abandoned Him. See with what artifice He endeavors to save
you. Sinners, consider the depth of His tenderness for you,
MISCELLANEOUS.
619
•nd take confidence. He wishes not your death, but only that
cal; ZTT' 7' ''' ' '' '' '- *^^'« ^^-^ H^ -eks L oj
casjon not against you, but for you. What better opportu-'
He recalls to H.s service, as if they had always practised
ust,ee ravishers, homicides, perjurers, and a/ who hat
covered themselves with crimes ?
t. Doubt not, sinners, the Lord is indulgent. If He wished
to punish you, not only would He not demand your slrv te
but He would refuse it when offered. I repeat it, think on he
treasures of the Most High, reflect on His mere;. Whle H
desires to come to your succor, He feigns to need your fo
^imself ; He wishes t. ..pear as your debtor, that He may
-eward your 8ervi< Ae forgiveness of you; sins, and the
Itecompense of etc....^. glory. '
8. Happy generation ! I say unto you, who live iu a time
so rich in indulgence. Since your land is fertile in brave men
m robust youth; since your glory and the fame of your valo;
have filled the world, let your zeal for the Christian name
hasten you to take up those arms which have ever been
crowned with victory. Yes 1 soldiers 1 press forward to the
combat— press onward to the battle !
9. noble and valiant warriors, to-day a war offers itself
wherein you have every thing to gain, and nothing to fear •
your triumph is a true glory ; your fall a real good A,id
yoo, busied in amassing the treasures of this world beware
lest you permit the treasures now offered you to escape Tak<l
up the Cross, and you will obtain the pardon of all the sins
rou have confessed with a contrite heart.
10. This Cross is a little thing in itself, but if you carry it
with devotion, it will purchase for you the kingdom of God
Those who already bear this celestial sign have done well-
those who now follow their example will receive the same re-'
ward. But beware of too much precipitation in this eiiterorise
unooseirom among you experienced and able chieftains'- let
the Army of the Lord move forward together, that thus iu
620
THE SIXTH READER.
their first expedition they may be able to overcome. May
God, who is bU aed forever, preserve you. Amen,
St. Bbbmabd.
99. BOSSTJET AS AN ORATOR.
T>UT what shall we say of Bossuet as an orator? To whom
-■^ shall we compare him ? And which of the harangues
of Cicero and Demosthenes are not eclipsed by his Funeral
Orations f The Christian orator seems to be indicated in
those words of e King:—" There is gold and a multitude of
jewels; but the lips of knowledge are a precious vessel."
2. Looking always upon the grave, and bending as it were
over the gulf of futurity, Bossuet is incessantly dropping the
awful words of time and death, which are re-echoed in the
silent abyss of eternity. He gathers around him an inde-
scribable sadness; he becomes merged in sorrows inconceiv-
able. The heart, after an interval of more than a century, is
yet struck with that celebrated exclamation:—" The Princess
is dyijg— the Princess is dead!"
3. Did monarchs ever receive such lessons? Did philoso-
phy ever express itself with greater independence? The di-
adem is as nothing in the eyes of the preacher; by him the
poor are raised to an equality with the monarch, and the most
absolute potentate in the world must submit to be told, beforo
thousands of witnesses, that all his grandeur is but vanity;
that his power is but a dream, and himself is but dust.
4. There are three things continually succeeding one an-
other in Bossuet's discourses:— the stroke of genius or of elo-
quence; the quotation so admirably blended with the text, as
to form but one piece with it; lastly, the reflection, on the sur
vey taken with eagle eye, of the causes of the event of which
be treitts.
6. Often, too, does this star of the Church throw a light
noon' disCUBSiona in tho mOHl-. n.hafrnao mAf.a|^V.^ol'^.^. ^- 4.U i
Bublime theology. To him nothing is obscure. He has ere
MISCELLANEOUS.
621
pression and the mo«t tr. T ' '"°''* common ex-
?r« tart, that Princess snZl Z "' '^'^'^■^*^ her
tehoU her such ^ Zm ^ ""'' '" '"'<"«"' ' ^^^ yoi
..u^u, ^ter, men as death has made hprt wu j ,
ier low a, the meanest of mankind » ' ""'"'' '""•
<". Of the idea, which a.ittTh "^ ,:: ^ rr,;;'-""
Bcnbe an event so sudden and so nffl,- ,: "y^' '^' *» ^e-
c^.an,ed their si.niaoation;:ta^; "r;.^,? .t™?"'
tirown ,„to oonf„.ioo a, „ei, a, the heart. HZlZT
light
100. THE GREAT CONDE
Cond." The orator Idemlfi^rhiLseU^v^^rtTe '"'f *^' "^^ "^^^"^ «>'
might say that he did not relal hnT! -. ^•«'*tnes8 of his hero ; we
field of battle - sees a"- J l^^^^^:;"^'^^ *^^ P^-"* '^^-elf ; he is on tho
nnites and paints at the samTZrthrpL"™^^^ *'' movement-ha
The last part is the most ivnn^ !i , ^ ' P"^*"'^"*' ''^'^ "i° ^^ture.
In the toucLg peroraZ le sf«T ""'"^""^ "' "" ^"^"^^« -^ Pathetic.
The imposing i^dLTtLU^^^^^^^^^^ orator himself appear upon theseen^
White hai^-^that won Je^ vo e „r t'rem'n^ "T^ *'^ ^^^* '"'^^ = *^-
rospect of the past^th7flrm sldJ ^ ^^ ''''^ ^'"^^"^ ^^^^^-t^^ ret-
doath Of .eoratl. ^^ rCrrrtte^eV" "^"^' "'
C'f ^ay'lLI^''""*^ °' *'' ^"*'- ^^'"^' -*h- «h-W
A say, come princes and lnrfl« i v,,„ _u^ _. , .,
^'" "" ^'^^ '^^*' P"»««« -"d princeH8e«, noble scions of
26*
622
THE SIXTH BEADEB,
SO many kings-lights of France-but to-day ob.cared and
covered with sorrow, as with a cloud.
3 Come and see the little that remains to us of so aiigugt a
b.rth of so much grandeur, of so much glory. Oast your oye«
on all sides ; behold all that magnificence and piety can «ivo
to honor-a herol Titles, inscriptions, vain mark* of that
which no longer exists, figures which seem to weep around a
tomb, and the frail images of a grief which time carries away
with all the rest. '
3. These columns, which seem to wish to elevate ev«n to the
heaven8--then,agnificentevidenceofournothingness; nothinir
18 wanted in all these, honors, except him to whom they ar^
'•endered. ''
4. Weep, then, over these feeble remains of human life
weep over this sad immortality which we gi e tc heroBi ; an
proach. m particular, ye who run with so much ard. r ii the
career of glory-warlike and intrepid souls, who was more
worthy to command you? Where have you found so noble a
chief? Weep, then, for this great captain, and say, in sighing :
Behold him who led us through perils ; under whom m
many renowned captains were formed ; so many renowruid
captains who have been elevated, by his example, to the
first honors of the camp-his shadow might yet have gained
some battles, *
6. Behold his silence-his name even animates us, and warn,
us that If in death we wish to find some repose after onr
labors, and hope to reach happily our eternal residence, wo
must, while serving the kings of the earth, also servo the
King of Heaven. Serve, then, this Immortal King, so full of
mercy, who will reward you for even a cup of cold water given
in His name, more than all the others for all the blood you shod
for them, and commence to count your services as useful from
the day you give yourselves to so generous a Master.
6. And you— will you not come to this sad monument j yoo
I say, whom he loved to rank among his friends r All tn^«tv.«r'
in wnatever degree of confidence he has received you-»ur'
KISOELLASEOCa
623
ronnd th,8 tomb; g,v<, him y„„r teara a„d y„„r prayer,
aod, adm,r„,g ,„ tl.is prince a .Vi,.„d„bip so golenj. af":
tereo„„e so sweet, preserve the memory of a hero whose
goodness equalled his eo„rage. May he ever be to 1 a dear
emembrance, and may y„„ proflt by his virtues, a, d may hi,
a l"d ' '"" 'T'"' """'■ " '"^ ■""- «™. - " 00" s^
ation a..d an example.
1 For myself, if I am permitted, after all the others to
ZlToZT' '"' ''""° "' ''' '™^' 1-''- ih^
etenallvtl "" '™"' "" ""' ''^''*'- ^o" willlive
eternally m my memo,-y ; your image will there be impressed
»ot w,th that air of triumph whioh promises victoryL.r I
msh ,0 sec nothing which death can effa<»_y„„ „il| have in
that ,„age only those traits which are immorul shaTs ^
you sueh as yo,, were on that laa da,, under the hand ol
God, when b,s glory commenced to appear in you
8 There I shall .ee you more triumphant than at Friboursr
or at Rocroy, and, ravished at so beautiful a triumph I sl!i
excla,m m thanksgiving with the beloved apostle: .ihe trul
-tz-: fi" ^" '"^"™ "■'^- "- '■- '^^ ™«'^ -"°
9 Enjoy, then, Prince, this glory ; enjoy it eternally by
^e rmmortal virtue of this sacrifice. Accept these Z t
otters O ' fp"""-"'' ""-" "f deploring tte death of
others, great Prmce, I shall learn from you to make mine
holy ; nappy, , warned by these white hairs of the ac^uuT
must soon render of my adn.inistration. I reserve for the
flock that I must nourish witt the words of life the remainde
of my faihng voice and weakened strength. bomom.
101. CHBIST OOB UOHT.
• TlMnb.!! n, ,,M of Ito blind b. o|i«i,«l.-_I,i., ID,, I
A THOUSAND .years have fleeted,
-'*• And, Saviour, still we ae«
S2i
THE SIXTH RBADKB.
.,(
U^
Thy deed of love repeated
On all who come to Thee:
As he who sat benighted, vvw^ Vvl
Aflflicted, poor and blind, t
So now thy word is plighted,— j^^vj.^. ^
Say, light and peace I find.
2. Dark gloom ray spirit filling,
Beside the way I sat ;
Desire my heart was thrilling.
But anguish more than that.
To me no ray was granted,
Although I heard the psalms
The faithful sweetly chanted.
And felt the waving palms.
I. With grief my heart was aching, Wv^iv>i-
O'erwhelming were my woes.
Till Heaven-born courage taking,
To Thee my cry arose :
David's Son, relieve me,
My bitter anguish quell, ^M^^*^^ "^^
Thy promised succor give me, '
And this dark night dispel I
i. With tears tha' fast were flowing,
I sought Thee through the crowd.
My heart more tender growing,
Until I wept aloud:
1 then my grief diminished.
For then they cried to me,
"Blind man, thy woe is finished;
Arise I He calleth thee !"
>^
V\o
6. I came with steps that faltered.
Thy course I felt the check;
Then straight my mind was altered.
And bowed my stubborn neck.
<*-vl«Jlh_
-^
o\.
vi-
\ yVY/ r Wj
MISCELLANEOUS.
Thou eaida't, "What art thou seeking r
t> I Lord 1 that I may see ;»
1 then I heard thee speaking,
"Beheve. and it shall be."
625
"WJf/VjWl^
«. Our hope, Lord, faileth never ;
When thou thy word dost'pHght
My fears then ceased forever.
And all my soul was light!
Thou gav'st me then Thy blessing,
From former guilt set free ;
Now heavenly joy possessing,
Lord I I follow Thee.
Da LA MOTTB F0UQC4,
103. FUNERAL ORATION OP HENRIETTA OF ENGLAND.
IBosscBT (JAME8 Benignb), born in Diion lf597 nr„
When he sustained his first thesis vrith »,w k'-„ ' ^ '"^""^^^y "^^en,
Parisdefliredtoheartheyoun?i?iritr^,?^''°"^'"'"* the «^ra« o
P^ence of the renowneTcraet o tte^!^ f^T ^"^*- '^^^-' ^° ^<>
Which delighted and astonished hisTudhoL ^^ «^temporized a sermon,
Du^esfoTS;ie:rrGSS2:n^^^ ^"^ '^^ ^"^^-^ t^e
inan^ian^age. BossnrBL?oro1ra::d^l^^^^^^^^
TTE who reigns in heaven, and from whom all empires nro.
ence 18 alone the only one to whom it belongs to make law«
L"^Se:r ''-' ''"^- -'- " ^'-^ ««". ^- ra
2. Whether in raising thrones or in overthrowing them in
!T.rr% ^'^ '7'' *^ ^"■°^^«' - ^" withdrawing U
^.d n^ .hem w the.r own weakness. He teaches tLem
their duties m a sovereign manner worthy of Himself: for u,
87
029
THE SIXTH READER.
giving thorn His power, Ho commanda thorn tf) use it m He
would Himself, for the good of the w..rld ; und, by withdrawing
It, ho convinces them that all their power is only borrowed,
and although seated on thrones, they are uo less under His
hand and supreme authority. It is not by words and dis-
courses alone that He instructs priucos, but still more by
♦vents and examples.
3. Christians, let the memory of a great ^ueen, daughter,
wife, and mother of powerful and sovereign kings in the three
kingdoms, speak on all sides at this sad ceremony. This
discourse will give you one of those awful examples which
displays to the eyes of the world its entire vanity.
4. You will see in a single life the extremes of all things
human— joys without bounds, as well as miseries ; a long and
peaceful enjoyment of one of Hie mosf noble crowns in the
universe ; every thing which could give the greatest glory to
birth and rank, adorning a head which was afterwards ex-
posed to all the outrages of misfortune.
5. The good c..use, at first followed by good success-theu
sudden reverses ; unheard-of changes ; rebellion, checked for a
long time, but finally mastering all order ; unbridled license ;
laws abolished ; the majesty of the throne violated by out-
rages, until then unknown ; usurpation and tyranny under tho
name of liberty; a fugitive queen, who could find no retreat
in the three kingdoms, and to w'.iom her native land was only
a place of exile ;— nine voyages by sea, undertaken by this
princess, in spite of tempests ;— the astonished ocean saw
itself traversed so many times, under so many different cir-
cumstances, and for such opposite causes; a throne ovc^
thrown with iguominy, and again miraculously re-established :
6. Behold, the lesson God gives to kings, showing at the
same time to the world, the nothingness of their pomp and
magnificence. If words fail us, if expressions are powerless
to describe a subject so vast and elevated, the subject will
speak for itgelf
t. The heart of a great queen, formerly exalted by a long
MISCELLANEOUS.
627
TOCcession of prosperities, and then suddenly plunj^ed into an
abyss of misery, will epeak sufficiently loud. And if it is not
permitted to private individuals to give lessons to princes on
events so strange, a king lends me his words to say to them,
Listen, ye great of the earth 1— Be instructed, ye
arbiters of the world I"
BOBSUBT.
108. FUNERAL ORATION OP THE DUCHESS OP ORLEANS.
[Henbietta of Orleans waa tho youngest child of Charles L of England.
When quite young, she married the Duke of Orleans, brother of Louis XIV.
She waa disUnguished by her t^ents and great personal attract.ons; she
d^ed after an Illness of a few hours, at the age of twenty-six, at a period ^hen
SIh Ir i '"'" most popular i;i France by the deUcate tact and
hTZ^^'Ti'TVr'^"'^'^'^ '^' '^''''^ •* Sood understanding between
•• yANITY of vanity, and all is vanity I" Again am I dea-
tined to render the funeral service to the high and
•powerful Princess Henrietta of England. She who was bo
attentive while I rendered this duty to her mother, so soon to
become the subject of a similar discourse I
2. Oh vanity 1 Oh nothingness ! Oh mortals, ignora it of
their destiny 1 Would she have believed it ten months agof
And you, getitlemeu, could you have believed, while she shed
so many tears in this place, that you would so soon be reas-
sembled to weep for her? Princess! worthy object of the
admiration of two great kingdoms I was it not enough for
England to weep your absence, without being reduced to
weep your death ?
3. And France, who with such joy saw you return, snr-
rounded with new splendor, had she no other poiup, no other
triumph for you on the return from this famous voyage-bear-
ing with you so much glory, so many beautiful hopes ? Yan=
ity of vanities, and all is vanity 1 This' is the only word left
for me.
m
028
THE SIXTH READBR.
4. No ; after what we have just seen, health is but a name,
life but a dream, glory but a pliantoni, graces and pleasures
but dinperous amusemeutn All in vain iu us hut the sincere
ftvowal we make -to God of our vanity and nothingness.
6. Consider the mighty ones of the earth I God strikes
them ts a warning to us. . . . God spares them so little
that he fears not to sacrifice them for the instruction of man-
kind. . . . We must be convinced of our nothingness—
and if our hearts, -enchanted by the world, require sudden
chocks, surely the present is sufficiently great and terrible.
6. Oh disastrous night I Oh terrible night I when sudd^'nly,
like a clap of thunder, was heard this astounding news— The
Princess is dying I The Princess is dead !
1. What, then— she must die so soon I Death ordinarily
prepares the greater part of. mankind for its last stroke. The
princess passed from morning until evening like the flower of
the field. In the morning she bloomed with what grace you
rU know 1 In the evening we saw her withered ; and these
strong expressions by which the Sacred Writings exaggerate
the inconstancy of human things became for this princess
exact and literal.
8. Alas ! we composed her history as the most glorious th/.t
can be imagined— the past and the present guaranteed a b.il-
liant future. But in place of the history of such a beautiful
life, we are compelled to give the history of an admirable but
lamented death.
9. Behold her, notwithstanding her great heart, this prin-
cess, 80 admired, so beloved ; behold her, such as death has
made her I A little while, and all will disappear; this shadow
of glory will vanish; we will see her stripped even of its sad
decorations 1
10. She M'ill descend to those gloomy places, to that sub-
terraneous abode, to sleep in dust with the great ones of the
earth, among those dead, kings and princes, where scarcely
can room be found for her, so closely crowded are their ranks,
and so prompt is death to fill these places.
II
MISCELLANEOUS.
629
11. But horo our imagination doceivea us again; death does
not (.ven leave us enough of the body to occupy any place
and we only see the tombs. The fh.h soon changes its .II
turo; the body takes another name-while .o.u^ltZ
yet remains of .t-but even this soon puB«es ; it becx.me _
H that all dies m it. even to the term, by which we could
iesignate its unfortunate remains.
12, In this way does the Divine Power, -.stly irritated
against our pride, destroy it; and iu ..■.;;. I To n'
dit^ons equa forever, reduces us all to : . ..^e dust. Can
any one tuUd on such ruinn ? Can any one erect great ,..nu
ments on such inevitable decay ?
•^ BOMUBT.
104. THE DEATH OF THE SINNER
IJIA88ILLON (John Bapti'st) was boru In Provence 1663 At fh„ . »
eighteen, he was admitted Into the con-re-ration nfVl . ^ ^ **'
wa. 80 briUlant on his first appcaran.el .f ! ■ "''^' ^^' '"^^^^^
Bought a retreat in one oTthTZt " Ur , T" '"' '"'' '" '''' '^""^'"^^ *"'
ho said, "/A«,W« '/ AS '^l 1 K "'' "' "^^ '''■'''•• *° "^^'^P"' -
plaee among the sn.alUu^^or whl ,? '^"'"'^'^ '""' ** pre-emin«t
.tyled the Racine oftLSairaLthTcC^^^^ ^ " ^^'^"^'^"^
.Beru.ons before the Court of Vei^ai^s, Lo^ xiv" ^^ , f ""'' ""'^ **' ^'•
have heard great orators in mTctapel an^I wl' T '" ^'"'r"^«''^«r, 1
with them; but when I hear Z t \ '''''''^* exceedingly satisfied
selt"] ^ "' ^ *"" '^^''J^* «^«/i«y^y <^ma^i^<i with my-
'pHEN, the dying sinner, finding nothing in the remembrance
oi the past but regrets which overwhelm him-nothing in
a 1 objects that are presented to his eyes, but sights which affli t
mn, and in the thought of the future, only horrors which tel
nty. Not knowing where to turn or on whom to call for
creatures fly from him. and the world is fast dlapp Lg"
men cannot deliver him from deatn. A declared enemy of God
-from Him no indulgence can be expected-writhes ir. the u kJ
horrors he has created for him«elf • o^Z n.^*u~- -•. f ^
rii. 111, ' -•••.^ v!i-jUi:ut i3 a> torment.
Oh could he bu. fly ft„„ death, which soi^s hi„„ or, m k^
could he only fly from himself I ^
630
THE SIXTH READER.
2. His dying eyes glare gloomily and savagely, expressing
all the terror of his soul. From his depths of misery he utters
words so interrupted by sobs, that half cannot be understood
and no one knows whether they are the expression of despair
or of repentance. He casts on a cruqified God frightful looks
which leave a doubt in the minds of those who surround him
as to whether it is fear or hope, hatred or love, which they ex-
press.
8. He is seized with horrible convulsions, and they know
not if it is the dissolution of the body or the soul which feels
the approach of its judge. He sighs profoundly, and they know
not if it is the remembrance of his crimes which draw these
sighs, or despair a I leaving life.
4. At length, in the midst of the most painful agony his
eyes become glazed, his features change, his face is distorted
his hvid mouth half opens of itself, his whole frame is con-
vulsed; and with this last effort, his unfortunate soul, drawn
from Its earthly tabernacle, falls into the hands of God and
stands alone at the foot of His awful tribunal. vubsxlloj,
105. ON THE SMALL NUMBER OP THE ELECT.
TMAGINE that it is now your last hour, and the end of the
•*■ world ; that the heavens are about to open above your
heads, and Jesus Christ in all His glory to appear in the mid-
die of this temple; that you are onlj assembled as trembling
criminals, and, in an instant, the sentence of pardon or of
eternal condemnation will he pronounced for you.
2. In vain do you flatter yourselves, for you will die such as
you are toKlay ; all the desires of a change or a future
conversion which dec ve you to-day, will deceive you on your
death-bed. Thia is the experience of all ages. All that you
will then find nevf in vourselves will be an account, perhaps.
Btiil greater than the one you would have to render" ton! ay ;
and by what you would be, ^ere you to be judged this mo
MISCELLANEOUS.
631
ment, you can almost decide what*will be your fate wheu life
will end.
3. Now I ask you, and as I ask you, I am overwhelmed with
terror-for I do not separate my own fate from yours-and
placing myself in the same condition that I so earnestly wish
for you; I ask you, then~If Jesus Christ were to appear in this
temple, in the midst of this assembly, the most august in th
nniverse, to pass sentence of judgment-to make the terrible
distraction between the sheep and the goats ; do you believe
that the greatest number of you who are around me would be
placed on the right? Do you even believe that there ^vould
be an equal number on both sides? Do you believe that He
would find the ten just and holy persons that the Lord in for-
mer times could not find in five entire cities? I ask this ques-
tion—you cannot answer it ; neither can I. Thou only, my
God, knowest those who belong to Thee 1
4. But if we know not who are His, we at least know that
sinners do not belong to Him. Now, who are the faithful here
assembled ? Titles and dignities must be counted as nothing ■
you will be stripped of all of them before Jesus Christ
6. Again I ask, Who are here? Many sinners who do not
wish to be converted ; many more who wish their conversion
but who defer it ; many others who only reform in order to fall
back into their former state ; and, finally, a gioat number who
believe they have no need of conversion. Behold the number
of the reprobates I Take, then, these lour sorts of sinners from
this holy assembly, for they will be assuredly cut off on that
great day.
6. Appear, now, ye ju8l>-where are ye? Remnant of
Isreal, pass to the right. Wheat of Jesus Christ, separate
yourself from this straw destined for the flames ! Oh, God,
where are Thy elect, and what remains for Thy portion ? '
MAssnxoK
632
THE SIXTH HEADER.
106. EXORDlftf AT ST. SULPICE.
Vik
V
m
other fppCe"h?ntei^' No'^I"""^' °° other anccess than conversions, no
talent o/aTestSe^tefZ f'' """'"''''' '"^ " ^'^'^^^ ^^^^^^ '»>« ™re
hlsto^ relaSs of the dec a JaU^^^^^^^^^ T'T ^" "^° "°"^^" -^^'='»
y ten thousand peoJlerC^rirsrrheUT'T" " ^""^'^"^
esoun^ngarch. h! preached rthTSre"ofs\^VC%Tl"?h?r
/many nobles an^pe eons of the fl^^^^^^ congregation
U^Jl^, now I have proclaimed the righteousness of the
ff High m churches covered with thatch. I have
wanted bread. I have declared to the good inhabitants of the
country the mostawful truths of my religion. Unhappyman 1
of mv r V, 7/ ' '^^^ ™^'^ ^^^ *^^P-^' *^« ^-'^nenda
of my God ! I have conveyed terror and grief into those
simple and honest souls, whom I ought to have pitied and con.
soled I It IS here only where I behold the great, the rich the
oppressors of suffering humanity, or sinners daring and hard!
oned. Ah I It IS here only where the sacred Word should be
made to resound with all the force of its thunder ; and where I
should place with me in this pulpit, on the one side. Death
which threatens you, and oa the other, my great God, who is
about o judge you. I hold to-day your sentence in my hand
Tremble, then, in my presence, ye proud and disdainful men
wlio hear me I
2. Tho necessity of salvation, the certainty of death, the
nneertamtyof that hour, so terrifying to you, final im^eni-
tennp thA loaf m^^^. i. ^u _ , _ , '
. " -• T," - J— B"=t:K., i.-ic; number ol the elect, hell, and.
above all, eternity I Eternity I These are the subjects upon
MISCELLANEOUS.
C33
which I am come to discourse, and which I ought, doubtless, to
have reserved for you alone. Ah 1 what need have I of your
commendation, which perhaps might damn me without saving
you ? God is about to rouse you while his unworthy minister
speaks to you ! for I have had a long experience of his
mercies. Penetrated with a detestation of your past iniqui
ties, and shedding tears of sorrow and repentance, you will
then throw yourselves into my arms, and by this remorse you
will prove that I am BuflSciently eloquent.
3. Maury, after citing this exordium of Father Bridaine as
one of the master-pieces of pulpit eloquence, proceeds with
these remarks :— Every thing, then, is In the orator's power,
when he has thus won his audience ; and he ought to take ad-
vantage of this power, which is given to him temporarily, to
complete his work, and to develop and organize in the minds
of the listeners the idea to which he has given birth : this is
the third stage of his undertaking.
4. Strike the iron while it is hot, says the proverb. In the
present instance, there is something more than iron, and better
than iron, to forge and fashion. Eloquence would miss its
aim, if it failed to lead the hearer by some act by which the
idea is to be realized. It is in this last stage, then, that the
practical part of the discourse should be placed along with
the application of the deductions. In these must the speaker
reap the fruits of his labor. After having imparted his feel
ings and thoughts to the listener, he must also make them
partakers of his will. He must imprint his personality upon
them, fashion them in his resemblance, so that they shall feel,
think, and ^vill as he does, in the interest of that truth and
excellence of which he has brought home to them the mani-
festation.
6. He must not take leave of his audience till he has
touched, convinced, and carried it away. It is in the perora-
tion. as we are about to sop tbut tl"> ««'!il mucr i>/. „,.*
work, and that it must receive its plenary completeness.
LU IU13
2t*
634
THE SIXTH READER.
107. BONO OF THE ANGELS OVER THE SKEPTICTf
CONVERSION.
TTAIL to the Spirit
-■"1- That all shall inherit
By childlike belief I
Hai' to the mortal,
Now safe through the portal
That hideth from grief I r^^JU-
S. Crown him with roses,
As glad he reposes
In the garden of love j
No Ipnger forbidden,
The apples of Eden
He findeth above.
8. Angels caress him,
For Jesus doth bless him
With grace freely given;
Seraphs, keep ringing
Your harps, sweetly singing
His welcome to heaven.
4. Tempests have tossed him,
Lower loves crossed him,
Nearly we lost himj
Hardly he won
Escape from the burning j
Hail his returning,
Tne prodigal son I
t Show him the river
Where life wells forever,
As grand as the Giver
He now doth adore;
Fling round him denser
Perfumes from the censw,
MISCELLANEOUS.
635
Till his faith bxirns in^enser
Into light evermore.
%. Clothe him with pinions $'
To Hcale the dominions
Of vision unknown ;
Bid him soar higher
An Angel of fire,
Still higher and nigher,
Till he faints with desire
At the foot of the throne.
Fbom an unpublished Poem by Judge A^xsa.-OM.
108. CHARACTER OF CHAMPLAIN.
TTTHAT we esteem most of all other features in the life of
J T^ our Founder, is that chief virtue of all eminent men-
hi8 indomitable fortitude ; and next to that we revere the
amazing versatility and resources of the man. Ori<>-inally a
naval officer, he had voyaged to the West Indies and to Mexico
and had written a memoir, lately discovered at Dieppe, and
edited both m France and England, advocatir.g among other
things the artificial connection of the Atlantic and Pacific .
"Oceans. From the quarter-deck we trace him to the countings ^^^^
rooms of the merchants of Rouen and Saint Male, who first
intrusted him, in 1603, with the command of a commercial en-
terprise of which Canada was the field. From the service of
the merchants uf Rouen, Dieppe, and Saint Malo, we trac-> him
to the service of his sovereign— Henry IV
2. For several successive years we.find'hia flag glancing n,
all points along the rock-bouud coast on which we are n.v^
assembled, from Port Royal to Massachusetts Bay. Wlienever »
vve do not find it here, we may be certain it has advanced into , I
the interior, that it is unfurled at Quebec, at Montreal, or to- H'^r I
....^ .u,,^3 ^, ,^^ ^^^^^^ ^j^j .^^^ Mohawk. We will
find that this versatile sailor has become in time a founder of
639
THE SIXTH READER.
w
^
. cities, a negotiator of treaties wif'a barbarous tribes an anth. .
makes h,s na,ne so familiar to AmericL ; he „,.. the flit!
Take k"" ?"'' °^""-'" "•'"' """ «""-. "< fi ' .0«h «^
jastlj calls the frerf,-w,-:ter o.a" of Lake Ontario
inenrst while h;,: :!,Hms as a colonizer ruet ou the firm foon.
dafons „ Montreal «.d C„el,ee, .,„:, hi, pr„jectlerr<^rl
an artifical chan,rol „f „ ,„„„„,„atio„. Aa a IcgirSr «^
have no. yet reco,„i,d, if we ever shall reeover hr^Ii
nances he is known to have promnlgated ; b„t asTjautUf
have h,s narrative of transactions in Ne^ France, his vZ«
to Mex.co, h,s treatise on navigation, and son.e o her Zf,
As a d,pl„„,at,st, .e have the Franc^Indian alliances, whch
1... founded, and which lasted a hundred and lifty years orthi.
cont.ne„t, and which exercised so powerfnl an inflnenc^ ^
™>y u. American, bnt on European Affairs. To him al H „..
Z^LT'^f"' '^'°^'*' ^'=^'"''' ""^ Cape Breton ZeZ
claimed by, and restored to Prance under the treaty of 8«i™t
Germam-en-Laye, in 1682. '
*. As to the moral qualities, our Pounder was brave almost '.
o rashness He would cast himself with a single EnroZn*'
o lower ,„ the midst of savage enemies, and mofe thanol
h,s l,fe was endangered by the e.cess of his confidence "^
h,s courage He was enn-„ently social in his habits-Z"'
order of fe fe„ i^j^i„ ,,,,i<^^ J^J"'
wasforoneday host to a„ his comrades, and comm: dedt
turn in those agreeable encounters of which we have just had
> slight skirmish here. He was sanguine as became "' d
venturer, and self^enying . ecame a hero. H« ..
nuaer IH Monte, who tor ,. t;n,„ succeeded to hi, honorw , .1
MISCELLANEOUS.
687
o'^oe, as cheerfully as he had ever acted for htmself, and in '
the end he made a friend of his rival. He encountered, as
to umbus and many others had done, mutiny and impatience
m his own followers, but he triumphed over the bad passions
of men as completely as he triumphed over the ocean and the
wilderness.
5. He touched the extremes of human experience among
Ijverse characters and nations. At one time he sketched
plans of civilized aggrandizement for Henry IV. and Richelieu •
at another, he planned schemes of wild warfare with Huron'
chiefs and Algonquin braves. He united, in a most rare de-
gree, the faculties of action and reflection, and like all highly
reflective minds, his thoughts, long cherished in aecret, ran
often into the mould of maxims, and some of them would form
the fittest possible inscriptions to be engraven upon his monu-
ment.
6. When the merchants of Quebec grumbled at the cost of ^T^
fortifying that place, he said:— "It is best not to obey the
passions of men ; they are but for a season ; it is our duty to
regard the future." With all his love of good-fellowship and
society, he was, what seems to some inconsistent with it, sin-
cerely and enthusiastically religious; among his maxims are
these two— that "The salvation of one soul is of more value
than the conquest of an empire;" and, that "Kings ought not
to think of extending their authority over idolatrous nations,
except for the purpose of subjecting them to Jesus Christ."
Thomas D'Aboi MoGxb.
109. HEROISM OF THE HOSPITAL AND THE PRISON.
rpHERE is a sort of sanctity about the very idea of a Chris-
-■-. tian hospital, second only to that we associate with a
church; and one can well understand that both the proud
Templars, and the gallant Knights of Malta, both bound to
works of corporal mercy, owed much of their early prestige to
088
THE SIXTH READEB.
^■^
their origin upon the very spot where our Lord was believed
to have appeared to his Apostles, and where Ananias and
Sapphira gave up the ghost, according to the doom denounced
on them by the first Apostle. . One of the chief glories of every
civilized country is in its hospitals. Bishops consecrate them;
kings endow them ; artists adorn them ; science seeks them
ou>; travellers celebrate their praises ; Parliaments and Con
gresses have issued commissions to improve and enlarge their
operations.
2. Unquestionably the greatest organizer of this class of in-
stitutions the world has ever seen came out of Gascony, in
the first years of the seventeenth century, from a rank of life
answering to that of our ordinary habitant— yon all know, I am
sure, to whom I allude,*-St. Vincent de Paul, the founder of
the Lazarists, and of the Sisters of Charity. There have been
many orders of hospitallers in the Catholic Church in former
ages, but none near our own time, at all to compare in effi-
ciency and renown with the daughters of Vincent de Paul.
3. Their extraordinary founder was not what the world
would call a man of genius— he was not more than ordinarily
learned, as a, priest ; he was not nobly born ; he was at all
times poor in this world's wealth. Yet, in the sixty years of
his priestly office (1600 to 1660), he became the founder of th«
General Hospital at Paris ; the Foundling Asylum in the same
city ; the Hospital of St. Reine, the Hospital for Galley Slaves
at Marseilles, with the numerous progeny of these institutions
all over Christendom, brought into existence during the great
organizer's lifetime.
4. In sending the first Sisters of Charity forth on their trying
task, to mingle with the world, in all its grossness and all its
weaknesses, yet be not of it, the high-hearted Gascon said:—
'•Your Monasteries are the houses of the sick ; your cell is a
hired room ; your cloister the streets of the city or the wards
of the hospital. Let obedience be your solitude, and a strict
and holy modesty your only veil."
5. I shaii not presume to sketch the sixty years passed by
MISCELLANEOUS.
689
St. Vincent in the 8( , vice of all the heroic charities ; we may
measure his achievements by the fact that at this day— more
than two centuries after his death— more money is paid in
alms, in the name of this humbly-born Gascon, more food and
clothing are given, more criminals are reformed, more sick are
nursed, more foundlings are adopted, more deserted dead are
decently buried, than is done by the governmental expenditure
of the greatest prince or government in Christendom.
6. Of the mere monetary value of those gratuitous and un i»/t31wK.
daunted nurses of the sick— the Sisters of his Order^I leave
those to form an estimate who have seen them in the military
hospitals, after a battle or a siege, who have seen them face to
face with pestilence in its most violent forms, or who have had
the assistance of their gentle and ever-ready hands in the most
trying surgical operations. An order of women, dedicated
from girlhood to God, who should consider the daily labor of
their lives to be to dress wounds, to serve the fallen and the
unfortunate, to harbor the harborless, to heal the bruised spirit;
^uch an Order was a conception possible only for a Christian.
1. Not that I would deny the possession of a spirit of ad-
mirable benevolence to those who are not Christians. Among
all the Mussulman nations the natural virtue of charity has
had many beautiful illustrations, and I remember reading some
years ago an account of a magnificent Parsee merchant who
built in an interior city of India a hospital open to all stran-
gers, whether Christians, or Moslems, or believers in Bramah
or in Buddah — which himself he could never dare to enter. The
only joy, but not, let us hope, the only recompense of this good
Parsee, was to watch from a distant station the numbers who
departed healed, and the numbers who presented themselves
to be cured at the gates of the great establishment he had
founded — where the founder's name was never spoken, and
across whose threshold his footsteps could never pass ! That
was the disinterestedly,-; inseparable from heroism; that was
a degree of spiritual self-denial seldom attained even aiuoug
Christians.
640
THE BIXI'H READER.
8. One of the main helnp ' , m < ' received by St. Vincent
de Paul in all his enterpn .es, ,vaH tlie cordial co-operation in
his plans of women of < vory grade of society. Ladies of the
city or the court, like Madame H^ Legftiiand Madame de Mi-
ramion, gave their wealth, their presence, their prayers and
their time to second all his charitable ur.derUiiJugs ; others
irolunteere J for service in pestilential places, in besieged cities,
and even among the galley-slaves.
9. If the foijlos and u-eaknesses of the sex were conspicu-
ously exhibited ut the court of Louis XIV., never had the
moral courage ind the pure self-sacrifice of woman more
splendid ill,,, rations than in that same age and country. We
should be ungrateful, indeed, in Canada,, for the sound basis
of Christian civilization which we enjoy here, if we were to
overlook that fact; il we were not to recall that we were
speaking of the age and country of MndaniO d'Aigrillon, of
Madame d'Youville, of Mademoiselle Manse, and of that gl. ri-
ous pioneer of religious education on this island— Sister Mar.
guerritte Boargeoys I ^^^^^
110. MENTAL AND MORAL DESTITLTIOK OP DEAP-MUTES.
nUT the peculiar merit vS this charity is - be estimated,
^ not merely by quantity, ^ut also by quality. Usually^
the visit is a penalty for the violation of some natural law'
Buch as the intermarriag. of c ;^; ;3 ; and sor-ctimeH it s.val'
lows up a whole family; we have had here t iree nnd four
Bisters all similarly afflicted. But it is not alone tV, ■ the natural
venues to the heart and brain are closerl agair t the. suffer-
ers— that they can never hear a mother'^ ce the prattle
of playmates, or t^e measured breathing f s ot music, or
the voice of psalm, or organ, or sermon, oi vesper.^ ; but it is,
that thi,. which Johnson calls " one of the most desperate of
human calamities." leatrfin t.hnsp o" ^^rhr^rr^ n- foiio , ...n-
__ ,j !ij, ,., utii^^ mc::L;i:iy
and morally, mere savages, while born in the midst of civili-
MISCELLANEOUS.
641
nation, llioy feel the pbysical wants, and are Huhject to the
tCi.iptations of civilized life.
2. It is a melancholy fact, that of all the deaf-mutes who
have been examined, after iustruction, as to their previous
state, not one in ten thousand had any previous idea of the
existence of a God. As to the history of man's redemption
of course they knew nothing of it whatever. Some, who hud
observed speaking people pray, thought they prayed to the
sun or the sky. With the exception of Mussieu, the cele-
brated pupil of Abb6 Sicard~a man ol mcommon genius^
there is hardly a case in which a deaf-mute, so born, had the
famtest u^tural idea of God. Those, therefore, who rescue one
such creature from the darkness of the soul, find their heathen
in the midst of civilization, and make a conquest not less glo-
nous than if they had sought proselytes at the ends of the
earth.
8. It -vi .y show us how much we ought to value and rever-
enoe language-the ripener, if not the sower of ideas,-the
conductor, ' uot the producer of thought,— tiiat it was on'y
when a . .ostJtut< was found for language— or, perhaps I
should say, when sign-language was invenkid for the
relief of the deaf and dumb, that tbey began to be conscious
of such ideas as God, heaven, hell, soul, judgment, right and
wrong. So that those who devote themselves to the educa-
tion of deaf-mutes, do not, as other teachers do, improve upon
Nature, by making the most ol the materials at hand ; they
actually create their own materials ; they rescue so many
Christian children— by seven years' painful seeking and striv-
ing— for it lakes seven years— from a forlorn state of ■ terior
savagery, in whicl no God reigns, and no law binds.
4. In ancient t'mes, even in the palm^ days of Roman civ-
ilization, the born mute was outcast and outlawed as a nonster
beyond the pile of law; in modern times, until recently,
they hM in most coaiiirius— France < Ac-pled- -no protection
whatev r, as to their natural rights, from the civil law : but it
will be one of the purest glories of the eighteenth century
949
TEK SIXTH BJSADBR.
that It produced such men as the Abb6 do l'Ep6o and Abb.
S.card, who sought out the victims of this calamity, so to
speak, m the cradle, and fillo. the darkened chambers of their
mmds with the glorious images of Qod and His Saviour Sou
before the daugerous days of puberty and passion came upon
6. In this heroic charity, I say it not aggressively nor in a
TL .TTn^^' ^"^ ^ '"^ '* thankfully, as a Catholic,
that we find the Church always in the van, from the old
Spanish Benedictine, De Buce, to the living French Jesuit,
Castel, the inventor of the clavier oculaire, the Catholic clergy
have been among the most studious, mont constant, and most
successful instructors of the deaf and th(i dumb. They have
wrought miracles in thi. behalf-not, indeed, by supernatural
means-but miracles of patience, of industry, and of perseven
•nee m weli-doing I
111. PARADISE.
Q PARADI3E I Paradise I
^^ Who doth not crave for rest?
Who would not seek the happy land
Where they that loved are blessed ;
Where loyal hearts and true
Stand ever in the light,
J All rapture, through and through,
In God's most holy sight?
2. Paradise 1 Paradise 1
The world is growing old;
Who would not be at rest and froe
Where love is never cold;
"-'jrai iicaits u.ilU XrUQ
Stand ever in the light,
Vw
MIS0ELLAN£OU8.
648
80 to
All rapture, throu<ifh and through,
In God's most holy sight?
«. Paradise I Paradise I
Wherefore doth death delay;— ^i;;^\
Bright death, that is the welcome dawn
Of our eternal day ;
Where loyal hearts and true
Stand ever in the light,
All rapture, through and through,
In God's most holy sight?
4. Paradise I Paradise I
'Tis weary waiting here :
I long to be where Jesus is.
To feel, to see Him near ;
Where loyal hearts and true
Stand ever in the light,
All rapture, through and through.
In God's most holy sight.
6. Paradise I Paradise I
I want to sin no more:
I want to be as pure on earth
As on thy spotless shore.
Where loyal hearts and true
Stand ever in the light,
All rapture, through and through.
In God's most holy sight.
«. Paradise I Paradise I
I greatly long to see
The special place my dearest Lord
Is destining for me ;
Where loyal hearts and true
Stand f^p'r in +V>o lJ<Trl^+
~ ■ ■" ' "o"''»
All rapture, through and through.
In God'n most holy sight.
644
THE SIXTH READBB.
1. Paradise I Paradise I
I feel 'twill not be long:
Patience I I almost think I hear
Paint fragments of thy song •
Where loyal hearts and true
Stand ever in the light,
AH rapture, through and througa,
In God's most holy light.
fillBB.
V
.^
^
^
112. THE SONG OP THE COSSACK.
[Rev. Francis Mahony is a native of Pork o.wi „**„»
nOME arouse thee up, my gallant horse, and bear thy
^^ rider on I ^
The comrade thou, and the friend, I trow, of the dweller on^
the Don.
Pillago and Death have spread their wings I 'tis the hour to . .
nie thee forth, ^^^^
And with thy hoofs an echo wake to the trumpets of the
r'orth I
Nor gems nor gold do men behold upon thy saddle-tree ;
But eanh affords the Wealth of lords for thy master and fo,
Then fiercely noigh, my charger gray I-thy chest is proud
and ample ;
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of Prance, and ciie pri.^.
01 ner neiuus traicple i
MISCELLANEOUS.
645
Europe is weak-she hath grown old-her bulwarks an, laid
low ;
She is bath to hear the blast of war-she shrinketh from a ^,
Come, in our turn, let us sojoiirn in her goodly haunts 0/
joy—
I« the pillared porch to wave the torch, and her palaces
destroy I *^
Proud as when first thou slakedst thy thirst in the flow of
conquered Seine,
"° "'"'^" °^«^ ^^^ou Slakedst thy thirst in the flow of
conquered Seine,
Aye Shalt thou lave, within that wave, thy blood-red flanks U
again.
Then fiercely neigh, my gallant gray I-thy chest is strong
and ample 1 °
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of Prance, and the pride
ot her heroes trample I
Kings are beleaguered on their thrones by their own vassal
crew ;
t^^^ And in their den quake noblemen, and priests are bearded
^ too;
. And loud they ^jj^ for the Cossack's help to keep their
bondsmen down,
And they think it meet, while they kiss our feet, to wear a
tyrant's crown I
The sceptre now to my lance shall bow, and the crosier and
the cross
Shall bend alike, when I lift my pike, and aloft that sceptri
toss I vlA^-M-
Then proudly neigh, my gallant gray I_thy chest is broad
and ample ;
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and the pride
of her heroes trample I
In a night of storm I have seen a form l-and the figure wa.
a GIANT,
646
THE SIXTH BEADEB.
"^ ""': re::: si r -^ "»- - - "*
/'" """" 'rr '°™'""' ^"-'"^ '"-. » ""■■c- «He .„nd.
art and science f
Can ™ „„t^„ie.<, our father-a shield F the sa^e war-hatchet
"" Td^Jpt^"' -^ «""-' ^»^' '- '-^ ohe. ,-, ,.o„g
«nd thy hoof, shall prance o'er the fields of Prance, and ,h,
pride of her heroes tiainple I
Fbancis Mahost.
MISCELLANEOUS.
m
113. IRELAND AND 'IBE IRISH.
IITUOH there is in Ireland that we most dearly love. We
11± love its music, sweet and sad, and low and lonely ; it
comes with a pathos, a melancholy, a melody, on the pulses
)f the heart, that no other music breathes, and while it
grieves, it soothes.
2. It seems to flow with long complaint over the course oi
ages, or to grasp with broken sobs through the ruins and
fragments of historic thought. We are glad with the humor
ot Ireland, so buoyant and yet so tender, quaint with smiles,
quivering with sentiment, pursing up the lips while it bedews
the eyelids. -Iv^u^iJU/c
3. We admire the bravery of Ireland, which may have been
broken,' but never has been bent,~-which has often been un-
fortunate, but which never has haien craven. We have much
affection for the Irish character. We give unfeigned praise
to that purity of feeling which surrounds Irish women in the
humblest class, and amidst the coarsest occupations, with anf^*^^
atmosphere of sanctity. /
4. We acknowledge with heartfelt satisfactio i that kindred
love in the Irish poor, that no distance can weaken, and that
no time can chill. We feel satisfied with our humanity, when
we see the lowly servant girl calling for her wages, or draw-
ing on the savings' bank for funds, to take tears from the
eyes of a widowed mother in Connaught, or fears from the soul
of an aged father in Munster.
5. We behold a radiance of grandeur around the head ot
tlio railroad laborer, ss he bounds, three thousand miles away,
at the sound of repeal, at riie name of O'Oonnell, and yet more
as his hand shakes, as he ta'-es a letter from the po8t-o«ce,
which, rude as it may be in superscription^ is a messenger
from the cot in which his childhood lay, is an angel fi-om the
tieids, the hiiJs, the streams, the mountains, and the raoori
wherein his boyhood sported.
y
M
648
THE SIXTH BEADEH.
that to sweetness seem TC he ,?""■'"" "'''"""'"'
wlere the fairies play the vmV.5 T"""' "■" ™'feys
from her wiuds as w^th the ZSIT^^ t"' '^'^"^ "*' »"'"'
of ber ™i„s at m„„„,*ht thTtonI, 7"^' "-^ ^''^»«
^-r appear hke the «h„^t:'„f ::;:/^;:l-:f "''"'^ ^"'^
TBE END.
^\
gtt, too, the
elds that are
le streamlets
the valleys
5, that sound
he shadows
choly spleii
'»' Giun.