shudder to think the oppressed may have thèir turn! Let cruelty turn pàle at the thought of redder hands than his ! Begòne! Prepàre the Eternal City for our games!

4. If you are men follow me! Strike down yon guàrd, gàin the mountain pàsses, and there do bloody work, as did your sires at old Thermòpylæ!† Is Sparta dead? Is the old Grecian spirit frozen in your veins, that you do crouch like a belabored hound beneath his master's lash? O comrades! wàrriors! Thracians! § If we must fight, let us fight for ourselves! If we must slaughter, let us slaughter our opprèssors! If we must die, let it be under the clear sky, by the bright wàters, in noble, honorable battle! 5. Haste, brave men !

Collect your friends to join us on the instant;
Summon our brethren to their share of conquest,
And let loud Echo from her circling hills
Sound freedom, till the undulation shake
The bounds of utmost Swèden!

6. Freedom calls you! quick, be ready,
Think of what your sires have done;
Onward, onward! strong and steady,
Drive the tyrant to his den;

On, and let the watchword be,
Country, home, and liberty.

7. Grasp the sword! its edge is keen;

Seize the gun! its ball is true;

Sweep your land from tyrants clean;

Haste, and scour it through and through!
Onward, onward! freedom cries;

Rush to arms! - the tyrant flies.

• Eternal city, the city of Rome.

+ Ther-mop'y-læ, a narrow defile in ancient Greece, where Leonidas and his 300 Spartans fell, in a desperate resistance against the Persian army under Xerxes. Sparta, an ancient city of Greece.

Thracians, inhabitants of Thrace, one of the Grecian states, east of Macedonia


Denunciation and Reprehension.

1. Avàunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are màrrowless; thou hast no speculation in thine eyes which thou dost glàre with!

2. Thou slàve, thou wrètch, thou còward!
Thou little valiant, grèat in villainy!

Thou ever stròng upon the stronger side!

Thou fortune's champion, thou dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by,

To teach thee safety! thou art pèrjured too,
And soothest up thy greatness.

3. What a foòl art thou,

A ràmping fool, to bràg, to stàmp, and swear,
Upon my party! thou cold-blooded slàve!
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side,
Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
And dost thou now fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a lion's hide? dòff it for shame,
And hang a calf's skin on thy recreant limbs.

4. Thou art a tràitor to the rèalm,

Lòrd of a lawless band!

The bold in speech, the fierce in broil,

The troubler of our land!

Thy castles and thy rebel towers

Are forfeit to the crown;

And thou, beneath the Norman ax,*

Shalt end thy base renown!

Beneath the Norman ax, implies beheading him.

5. The spirit of rational liberty is moving all Europe. It is human nature, waking in her might from the slumber of ages, shaking herself from the dust of antiquated institutions, girding herself for combat, and going forth conquering and to conquer; and woe unto the man, woe unto the dynasty, woe unto the party, and woe unto the policy, on whom shall fall the scath of her blighting indignation!



1. O wretched prince! O cruel reverse of fortune! O father Micìpsa! * Is this the consequence of thy generosity; that he whom thy goodness raised to an equality with thy own children, should be the murderer of thy children?

2. Whither- oh! whither shall I fly? If I return to the royal palace of my ancestors, my father's throne is seized by the murderer of my brother. Oh, murdered, butchered brother! Oh, dearest to my heàrt my sight!

now gone forever from

Wrètch that I am! to what
Shall I go to the cápitol?

3. Whither shall I retùrn? place shall I betàke myself? Alas! it is overflowed with my brother's blood! Or shall I return to my house? Yet there I behold my mother, plunged in misery, wèeping, and despairing. I am ròbbed! I am rùined! O my money! my guineas! my support! my all is gone!

4. What a splendid piece of workmanship! What a majestic scène! What a piece of work is màn! How glorious are all the works of God! What splendid views of sun wheels his mighty

heaven! How majestically the

course! Behold the daughter of innocence! what a look!

Mi-cip'sa, the king of Numidia. See note (*), page 100.

what beauty! what sweetness! Behold that great and good màn! what majesty! how graceful! how commànding!

5. How serenely slept the starlight on thy lovely city! How breathlessly its pillared streets reposed in their security! How softly rippled the dark, green waves beyond! How cloudless, spread aloft, and blue, the dreaming Campanian * skies! Yet this was the last night for the gay Pompeii!† the colony of the hoar Chaldean! ‡ the fabled city of Hercules ! § the delight of the voluptuous Roman! Age after age had rolled, indestructive, unheeded, over its head; and now the last ray quivered on the dial-plate of its doom!

6. See what discoveries God causes to spring from the human brain, all tending to the great end of peace! What progress! What amplifications! How nature more and more suffers herself to be vanquished by man! How matter becomes more and more a slave of intelligence, and the servant of civilization! How the causes of war vanish with the causes of suffering! How remote nations are brought near! How distance is abridged! And how this abridgment makes men more like brothers!


Exclamatory Questions and Tender Emotion.

1. What! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and Nature to the massacres of the Indian scálping-knife! to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, devouring, and drinking

* Cam-paʼni-an skies, Campania is a delightful extent of country in the western part of Italy.

↑ Pom-pe'ii, (pom-pe'yi,) an ancient city of Italy, buried by an eruption of Vesuvius in the year 79, discovered and disentombed in 1748, since which time many things have been taken out, and deposited in the museum at Naples.

Chal-de'an, an inhabitant of Chaldea, a country between the Euphrates and


Her'cu-les, the most celebrated hero in the mythological age of Greece, sup. posed to have died about 925 B. C.

the blood of his mangled víctims! Such notions shock every precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor.

2. What does the word come more powerfully from the dignitary in purple and fine linen, than it came from the poor apóstle? What! my lords, not cultivate barren land; not encourage the manufactories of your country; not relieve the poor of your flóck, if the church is to be at any expense théreby!

3 Ah, little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, déath, And all the sad variety of paín!

How many sink in the devouring flood,

- Or more devouring fláme! How many bleed
By shameful variance betwixt man and mán!

4. How many pine in wánt, and dungeon gloóms,
Shut out from the common aír, and common use
Of their own límbs! How many drink the cup
Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread
Of misery! Sore pierced by winter's winds,
How many shrink into the sordid hut
Of cheerless poverty! How many shake
With all the fiercer tortures of the mind,
Unbounded passion, madness, guilt, remorse!

5. How many, racked with honest passions, droop
In deep, retired distress! How many stand
Around the death-bed of their dearest friends,
And point the parting anguish! Thought fond man
Of these, and all the thousand, nameless ills,
Vice, in his high career, would stand appalled,
And heedless, rambling impulse learn to think.

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