Puslapio vaizdai

Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome;
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made a universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in his concave shores ?

I put on your best attire?
cull out a holiday?


And do you now
And do you now
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Begone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague,
That needs must light on this ingratitude!


In slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay,

His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away,

And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers,

And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn; While memory stood sidewise, half covered with flowers, Restored every rose, but secreted its thorn.

The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch,

The swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall; All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,

And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.

A father bends o'er him with looks of delight,

His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite

With the kiss of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,

Joy quickens his pulse-all hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,

"O God! thou hast blessed me,-I ask for no more." Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye? Ah! what is that sound that now 'larms his ear? 'Tis the lightning's red glare painting hell on the sky! "Tis the crashing of thunder, the groan of the sphere ! He springs from his hammock,-he flies to the deck; Amazement confronts him with images dire ; Wild winds and waves drive the vessel a-wreck,

The masts fly in splinters-the shrouds are on fire!

Like mountains the billows tumultuously swell;

In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save ;— Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,

And the death-angel flaps his dark wings o'er the wave.

O, sailor-boy! woe to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frostwork of bliss ;Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright, Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss?

O, sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again

Shall love, home, or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance of thee,
Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge;
But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,
And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge.

On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid,
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below.

Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away,

And still the vast waters shall over thee roll ; Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye

O, sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul !



All the evils which afflict the country are imputed to opposition. It is said to be owing to opposition that the war became necessary; and, owing to opposition also, that it has been prosecuted with no better success. This, sir, is no new strain. It has been sung a thousand times. It is the constant tune of every weak and wicked administration. What minister ever yet acknowledged that the evils which fell on his country were the necessary consequences of his own incapacity, his own folly, or his own corruption? What possessor of political power ever yet failed to charge the mischiefs resulting from his own measures upon those who had uniformly

opposed those measures? The people of the United States may well remember the administration of Lord North. He lost America to his country, yet he could find pretences for throwing the odium upon his opponents. He could throw it upon those who had forewarned him of the consequences, and who had opposed him, at every stage of his disastrous policy, with all the force of truth, reason, and talent. It was not his own weakness, his own love of arbitrary power, that disaffected the colonies. It was not the Tea Act, the Stamp Act, the Boston Port Bill, that severed the empire of Britain. O, no! It was owing to no fault of Administration. It was the work of opposition. It was the impertinent boldness of Chatham, the idle declamation of Fox, the unseasonable sarcasm of Barre. These men, and men like them, would not join the minister in his American war. They would not give the name and character of wisdom to what they believed to be the extreme of folly. They would not pronounce those measures just and honorable which their principles led them to condemn. They declared the minister's war to be wanton. They foretold its end, and pointed it out plainly, both to the minister and to the country. He declared their opposition to be selfish and factious. He persisted in his course; and the result is in history.

Important as I deem it, sir, to discuss, on all proper occasions, the policy of the measures at present pursued, it is still more important to maintain the right of such discussion in its full and just extent. Sentiments lately sprung up, and now growing popular, render it necessary to be explicit on this point. It is

the ancient and constitutional right of this people to canvass public measures, and the merits of public men. It is a homebred right, a fireside privilege. It has ever been enjoyed in every house, cottage, and cabin in the nation. It is not to be drawn into controversy. It is as undoubted as breathing the air and walking on the earth. Belonging to private life as a right, it belongs to public life as a duty; and it is the last duty which those whose representative I am shall find me to abandon. This high constitutional privilege, I shall defend and exercise within this House, and in all places; in this time of war, in time of peace, and at all times. Living, I will assert it; dying, I will assert it; and, should I leave no other legacy to my children, by the blessing of God I will leave them the inheritance of free principles, and the example of a manly, independent, and constitutional defence of them!

2. SUMMER MORNING IN THE COUNTRY.-" The Seasons," Thomson. Music awakes

The native voice of undissembled joy ;
And thick around the woodland hymns arise.
Roused by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves
His mossy cottage, where with Peace he dwells,
And from the crowded fold, in order drives
His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn.

Falsely luxurious, will not man awake,
And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy
The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour,
To meditation due, and sacred song?
For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise?

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