Had rotted in the dust, from whence it sprung,
And moldered in oblivion, had not Warwick
Dug from its sordid mine the useless ore,
And stamped it with a diadem. Thou knowest,
This wretched country, doomed perhaps, like Rome,
To fall by its own self-destroying hand,
Tossed for so many years in the rough sea
Of civil discord, but for me had perished.

In that distressful hour, I seized the helm,
Bade the rough wave subside in peace, and steered
Your shattered vessel safe into the harbor.

You may despise, perhaps, that useless aid
Which you no longer want; but know, proud youth,
He who forgets a friend, deserves a foe.

Ed. Know too, reproach for benefits received,
Pays every debt, and cancels obligation.

War. Why, that indeed is frugal honesty, A thrifty, saving knowledge; when the debt Grows burdensome, and cannot be discharged, A sponge will wipe out all and cost you nothing. Ed. When you have counted o'er the numerous train

Of mighty gifts your bounty lavished on me,

You may remember next the injuries

Which I have done you; let me know them all,

And I will make you ample satisfaction.

War. Thou canst not; thou hast robbed me of a jewel

It is not in thy power to restore.

I was the first, shall future annals say,

That broke the sacred bonds of public trust,
And mutual confidence: embassadors,
In after times, mere instruments, perhaps,
Of venal statesmen, shall recall my name
To witness, that they want not an example,

And plead my guilt to sanctify their own.

Amidst the herd of mercenary slaves

That haunt your court, could none be found but Warwick,

To be the shameless herald of a lie?

Ed. And wouldst thou turn the vile reproach on me?

If I have broke my faith, and stained the name
Of England, thank thy own pernicious counsels
That urged me to it, and extorted from me

A cold consent to what

my heart abhorred.

War. I've been abused, insulted, and betrayed;
My injured honor cries aloud for vengeance,
Her wounds will never close.

Ed. These gusts of passion

Will but inflame them. If I have been right
Informed, my lord, besides these dangerous scars
Of bleeding honor, you have other wounds
As deep, though not so fatal; such, perhaps,
As none but fair Elizabeth can cure.

War. Elizabeth!

Ed. Nay, start not: I have cause

To wonder most. I little thought, indeed,
When Warwick told me, I might learn to love,
He was himself so able to instruct me;

But I've discovered all.

War. And so have I.

Too well I know thy breach of friendship there,
Thy faithless, base endeavors to supplant me.
Ed. I scorn it, sir! Elizabeth hath charms;
Nor see I aught so god-like in the form,
So all-commanding in the name of Warwick,
That he alone should revel in the rays
Of beauty, and monopolize perfection.

War. 'T is false!

You knew it all, and meanly took occasion-
Whilst I was busied in the noble office

Your grace thought fit to honor me withal,

To tamper with a weak, unguarded woman,
And basely steal a treasure,

Your kingdom could not purchase.

Ed. How know you that? - but be it as it may,

I had a right, nor will I tamely yield

My claim to happiness, the privilege

To choose the partner of my throne:
It is a branch of my prerogative.

War. Prerogative! What's that? the boast of tyrants,
A borrowed jewel, glittering in the crown
With specious luster, lent but to betray.

You had it, sir, and hold it, from the people.

Ed. And therefore do I prize it; I would guard
Their liberties, and they shall strengthen mine:
But when proud faction and her rebel crew
Insult their sovereign, trample on his law,
And bid defiance to his power, the people,
In justice to themselves, will then defend
His cause, and vindicate the rights they gave.
War. Go to your darling people, then; for soon,

If I mistake not, 't will be needful; try

Their boasted zeal, and see if one of them

Will dare to lift his arm up in your cause,
If I forbid him.

Ed. Is it so, my lord?

Then mark my words: I've been your slave too long,

And you have ruled me with a rod of iron;

But henceforth, know, proud peer, I am thy master,
And will be so. The king who delegates

His power to others' hands, but ill deserves

The crown he wears.

War. Look well then to your own:

It sits but loosely on your head; for know,

The man who injured Warwick, never passed
Unpunished yet.

Ed. Nor he who threatened Edward.

You may repent it, sir. My guards there! seize
This traitor, and convey him to the tower;
There, let him learn obedience.

1

LESSON LXXVII.

CENTENNIAL ADDRESS. - STORY.

1. When we reflect on what has been, and is now, is it possible not to feel a profound sense of the responsibleness of this Republic to all future ages? What vast motives press upon us for lofty efforts! What brilliant prospects invite our enthusiasm! What solemn warnings, at once demand our vigilance, and moderate our confidence!

2. The old world has already revealed to us, in its unsealed books, the beginning and end of all its own marvelous struggles in the cause of liberty. Greece, lovely Greece, "the land of scholars, and the nurse of arms," where sister republics, in fair processions, chanted the praises of liberty and the gods, where, and what is she? For two thousand years the oppressor has bound her to the earth. Her arts are no more. The last, sad relics of her temples, are but the barracks of a ruthless soldiery; the fragments of her columns and her palaces, are in the dust, yet beautiful in ruin.

3. Where are the republics of modern times, which clustered around immortal Italy? Venice, and Genoa, exist 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 their strength. The mountains are not easily crossed, and the valleys are not easily retained.

We

4. We stand, the latest, and, if we fail, probably the last experiment of self-government by the people. We have begun it under circumstances of the most auspicious nature. are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has never been checked by the oppressions of tyranny. Our constitutions have never been enfeebled by the vices, or luxuries, of the old world. Such as we are, we have been from the beginning,- simple, hardy, intelligent, accustomed to self-government and selfrespect.

5. The Atlantic rolls between us and any formidable foe. Within our own territory, stretching through many degrees of latitude and longitude, we have the choice of many products, 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 prospect of success could be presented? What means more adequate to accomplish the sublime end? What more is necessary, than for the people tc preserve what they themselves have created?

6. Already has the age caught the spirit of our institutions. 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 onward to the south, has opened to Greece the lessons of her better days.

7. Can it be, that America, under such circumstances, can betray herself? that she is to be added to the catalogue of republics, the inscription of whose ruin is, "They were,