same gentlemen are equally alarmed, because they believe that in concurring in this measure they would be conferring a gift but I will tell them that the belief is as visionary as the Protestant ascendency which is the object of their admiration. "What," say they, are we now to be called upon to confer honours and liberty on the Catholics, and at this crisis, when the king's ministers have been subdued by their intimidation and their threats?" But though these gentlemen talk of giving power to the Catholics, I will tell them, that it is not in their power to make that gift ; the Catholics of Ireland possess a power beyond theirs-a power independently of theirs-a power that, though we have not called it into existence, we may at least hope, with proper care, to regulate, since it does exist. In the course of the debate upon this question, there have been a good many allusions to what has been called "brute force," and military power. Sir, I might follow up this allusion by telling the honourable gentleman who used the expression that the question is, Whether we are to extinguish the brute but energetic power of the Catholic multitude of Ireland, or whether we are to enlist it, with all its strength and all its magnitude, into the service of the state? I might tell him, that the question is, Whether that force is to be turned, through despair, to unlawful purposes, or whether it is to be made to contribute to the prosperity and happiness of the whole empire? An honourable gentleman who has spoken this evening against the measure, has adverted to the bill which the legislature has just passed, for the purpose of putting down the Catholic association. Now, sir, I must beg leave to tell that honourable gentleman that there was no part of his speech that did not manifest the most entire ignorance of the actual condition of Ireland; and above all did the honourable gentleman display his ignorance when he spoke of this measure as the price paid for the putting down of the Catholic association. Does that honourable gentleman think, in his ignorance, that the Catholic association and agitation are the same, and may be used synonymously? I can tell the honourable gentleman this the doors of the Catholic association may be shut up-its orators, from the first to the last, may be silenced-but still the direst agitation may exist and flourish. Will they still let the tribunals of Ireland be open? If they will, then still will there be open a theatre for agitation. A father brings his action into court: it is for the seduction of his daughter-a

circumstance wholly domestic, and apparently unconnected with anything public; but no sooner does it make its appearance, than it is taken up as a political case, and the streets of the capital are crowded with persons taking a feverish interest in the decision. An Irish magistrate summons a rioter, or a man for an assault, to appear before him: in his official capacity he either takes or refuses bail for his appearance; he may have decided right or wrong; but whichever way it may be, it occasions a discussion of the Catholic question. Is the honourable gentleman ignorant, that if his measure-his unexplained measure, I believe I must call it should have the effect of shutting up the doors of the Catholic association, it will still leave open the door of every Catholic chapel in Ireland? Does he believe that there is no popular priest ready to ascend the pulpit in such a cause, or that he will be listened to with the less attention, because he directs one hand towards the silent orators of the association, while with the other he points to the altars of their common faith, which are also the emblems of their common suffering. Sir, I tell the honourable gentleman, it is not the Catholic association-it is not this man or that-upon whom the question depends. Destroy the individuals as often as you please, and others will as often spring up in their places; or if the association itself be destroyed, other scenes of agitation will be opened. For these things there is but one remedy, one complete, all sufficient remedy-and it is that which the wisdom and prudence of the government, and the gracious kindness and condescension of the sovereign, have proposed. The Catholic association will be extinguished when it is transferred to this house. Bring it here! Let us graft their wild and energetic shoots on our more mature and nurtured English stock, and rely upon it, of the fruit which it will produce you need not be ashamed.

SECTION LXXXIX.

MOSES-CALEB-JOCHANI-MAMRI-RAMPSINITIS.

Anonymous.

Caleb. Is it thy will, that longer we remain Upon this mountain's summit? Lo! young day Doth wearily unclose his sleepy eye,

For slowly comes the radiance which it sheds
On our oppressed land! No joy to Jacob

Brings the bright sun-beam; for, with his first glance,
Comes the fierce tasker, and with goad and lash,
Drives to the stubble-field the weeping race
Of him, Jehovah's chosen, the loved friend
Of angels, and of spirits! Their bound limbs
Are tortur'd by the beam, their free-born sires
Were wont to court and bless; and when they sink
Worn by th' intolerable burthen down,

The scorpion-whip doth lash them to new life,
Or rob them of the wretched remnant left.
But let us down, and bid them stand prepared,
Nor murmur when they are required to raise
New treasure-domes for Pharaoh.

Moses. (not heeding him.) Yes, thou art
The terrible! the just!-The might of man,
What is it, Lord, before thee! Thou dost close
Thine eye of glory, and dark night descends;
Thou ope'st it, and 'tis light. Thy breathing is
The rage of tempests; and thy face, O God,
Who can behold and live!

Caleb.
Jehovah's hand
Is on his servant now. From his pale brow
Darts forth the mystic light, whose lustrous blaze
Scorches my human eye-balls. His high form
Becomes gigantic, and his clustering locks,
Darker than night, swept by the mighty spirit,
Wave in wild motion, and their homage pay
To the invisible presence of the power
Which every where surrounds him.

Moses.

Hark! he comes!

The one!-the terrible !-the Lord of wo!
The angel of his terrors !-On the air

I hear the rushing of his mighty wings;

His broad palm bears the darkness, the dire pall
Of miserable Egypt !-hark! he comes!—
Wo, to thee, Egypt, wo.

Caleb.
It is the spirit,
The over-ruling, which is passing o'er us!
The day is bright and clear; yet in the air,
I hear the sound of tempests. All the winds
Girdle his chariot wheels. My brow is cold,
My breath is thick, and o'er my quivering limbs

Breaks the damp glow of fear! I will fall down,
Nor see him pass above me.

Moses.

Hail! O hail !

Thou Lord of judgment!-Lo! he comes; but not
In light-created vestments, nor his brow
Circled by fire ethereal, nor his form
Shooting forth sparkles of immortal light,
Each one a brilliant day; but now he rides
The stern submissive whirlwind, in his purpose
Robed as in some dark garment, like the cloak
Which ancient chaos wore, before the smile
Of God, illumining the dark abyss,
Created light. He comes, the terrible!
In judgment mantled dark, as darkest death!
Before him horror, and behind despair!
Prepare, O Israel, gird your loins, O Jacob!
For now, with the strong arm of power, your God

Doth break your chains, and draw ye forth from bondage:

Now will he show his glory and his terrors!

And thus I stretch mine arm towards the heavens,

And thus I summon from his icy throne,

The pale, cold king, to pour out his chill breath
On miserable Egypt. Come, O come,
Come with thy crown of icicles around

Thy beauteous snowy brow,-Come with thy look
Of still calm majesty-motionless lip
And eye, bright as the crystal, and as still,-
Come, robed in silence, duskiness, and fear,
And with thy sceptre goad thy phantom steed,
Who tramps with noiseless step upon the air
The faster for the touch, which human power
May not endure, and live. Come, Lord of shades,
I call thee by the power of him who reigns
O'er thee, and hath permitted thy dread being,
As the stern doer of his mighty will,

The servant of his vengeance. Come, O come,
I call thee, king of death, approach and strike
All the first-born of Egypt!

Wo, wo, unutterable wo!

Caleb.

It is done!

O, hark:

Whence, leader, is that melancholy sound,
That heavy groan?

Moses.

It is a kingdom's voice,

Lamenting o'er her first born. I can hear

In their vain exercise of pageant power,
Hard and relentless!-Gentle brother, yet,
'Tis in your choice to imitate that heaven
Whose noblest joy is pardon.

Eribert.

'Tis too late.

You have a soft and moving voice, which pleads

With eloquent melody-but they must die.

Ansel. What, die !—for words ?—for breath, which leaves

no trace

To sully the pure air, wherewith it blends,

And is, being utter'd, gone ?-Why, 'twere enough
For such a venial fault, to be deprived

One little day of man's free heritage,

Heaven's warm and sunny light!-Oh! if you deem
That evil harbours in their souls, at least

Delay the stroke, till guilt, made manifest,
Shall bid stern justice wake.

Eri.

I am not one

Of those weak spirits, that timorously keep watch
For fair occasions, thence to borrow hues

Of virtue for their deeds. My school hath been

Where power sits crown'd and arm'd. And, mark me, brother!

To a distrustful nature it might seem

earnestly should plead O'er my being

Strange, that your lips thus
For these Sicilian rebels.
Suspicion holds no power.
-I have said-and they must die.
Ansel.

And yet take note.

Have you no fear?

Eri. Of what ?—that heaven should fall?
Ansel.

No!-but that earth

Should arm in madness. Brother! I have seen
Dark eyes bent on you, e'en 'midst festal throngs,
With such deep hatred settled in their glance,
My heart hath died within me.

Am I then

Eri.
To pause, and doubt, and shrink, because a boy,
A dreaming boy, hath trembled at a look ?

Ansel. Oh! looks are no illusions, when the soul,
Which may not speak in words, can find no way
But theirs, to liberty!-Have not these men

Brave sons, or noble brothers?

Eri.

Yes! whose name

It rests with me to make a word of fear,

A sound forbidden 'midst the haunts of men,