of his character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind overawed majesty; and one of his sovereigns thought royalty so impaired in his presence, that he conspired to remove him, in order to be relieved from his superiority. No state chicanery, no narrow system of vicious politics, sank him to the vulgar level of the great; but overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, his object was England, his ambition was fame. Without dividing, he destroyed party; without corrupting, he made a venal age unanimous.

France sank beneath him. With one hand, he smote the house of Bourbon, and wielded, with the other, the democracy of England. The sight of his mind was infinite; and his schemes were to affect, not England, and the present age only, but Europe, and posterity. Wonderful were the means by which these schemes were accomplished; always seasonable, always adequate, the suggestions of an understanding animated by ardor, and enlightened by prophecy.

A

The ordinary feelings which render life amiable and indolent were unknown to him. No domestic difficulty, no domestic weakness reached him; but, aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came, occasionally, into our system, to counsel and to decide. character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, and so authoritative, astonished a corrupt age; and the treasury trembled at the name of Pitt, through all her classes of venality. Corruption imagined, indeed, that she had found defects in this statesman; and talked much of the ruin of his victories; but the history of his country, and the calamities of the enemy, refuted her.

Nor were his political abilities his only talents: his eloquence was an era in the senate; peculiar and spontaneous, familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments, and instinctive wisdam; not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully, it resembled sometimes the thunder, and sometimes the music of the spheres. He did not, like Murray, conduct the understanding through the painful subtlety of argumentation, nor was he, like Townshend, for ever on the rack of exertion; but, rather, lightened upon the subject, and reached the point by flashings of the mind, which, like those of his eye, were felt, but could not be followed.

Upon the whole, there was something in this man that could create, subvert, or reform; an understanding, a spirit, and an eloquence, to summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds of slavery asunder, and to rule the wilder

ness of free minds with unbounded authority-something that could establish or overwhelm empires, and strike a blow in the world, which should resound throughout the universe

Ex. LXXIX.-VISION OF BELSHAZZA R.

THE king was on his throne,

The satraps thronged the hall;
A thousand bright lamps shone
O'er that high festival.
A thousand cups of gold,

In Judah deemed divine-
Jehovah's vessels-hold

The godless heathen's wine!

In that same hour and hall,
The fingers of a hand
Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand:
The fingers of a man,-

A solitary hand

Along the letters ran,

And traced them like a wand.

The monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice;
All bloodless waxed his look,
And tremulous his voice.
“Let the men of lore appear,
The wisest of the earth,
And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth."

Chaldea's seers are good,

But here they have no skill;
And the unknown letters stood
Untold and awful still.
And Babel's men of age

Are wise and deep in lore;
But now they were not sage,
They saw-but knew no more.

BYRON.

A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth,
He heard the king's command,
He saw that writing's truth:
The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view;
He read it on that night,—
The morrow proved it true.

"Belshazzar's grave is made,
His kingdom passed away;
He, in the balance weighed,
Is light and worthless clay.
The shroud his robe of state,
His canopy the stone;

The Mede is at his gate!

The Persian on his throne !"

Ex. LXXX.-THE BURIAL OF ARNOLD.*

YE'VE gathered to your place of prayer,
With slow and measured tread:
Your ranks are full, your mates all there—
But the soul of one has fled.

He was the proudest in his strength,
The manliest of ye all;

Why lies he at that fearful length,

And ye around his pall?

Ye reckon it in days, since he
Strode up that foot-worn aisle,
With his dark eye flashing gloriously,
And his lip wreathed with a smile.
Oh! had it been but told you then,
To mark whose lamp was dim,
From out yon rank of fresh-lipped men,
Would ye have singled him?

Whose was the sinewy arm, which flung
Defiance to the ring?

A member of the Senior Class in Yale College.

WILLIS

Whose laugh of victory loudest rung,
Yet not for glorying?

Whose heart, in generous deed and thought,
No rivalry might brook,
And yet distinction claiming not?
There lies he-go and look!

On now-his requiem is done;
The last deep prayer is said;-
On to his burial, comrades-on,
With the noblest of the dead!
Slow-for it presses heavily ;-
It is a man ye bear!

Slow-for our thoughts dwell wearily
On the noble sleeper there.

Tread lightly, comrades!-ye have laid
His dark locks on his brow-
Like life-save deeper light and shade:-
We'll not disturb them now.
Tread lightly--for 'tis beautiful,
That blue veined eyelid's sleep,
Hiding the eye death left so dull,—
Its slumber we will keep.

Rest now!-his journeying is done,-
Your feet are on his sod ;-
Death's chain is on your champion-
He waiteth here his God!
Ay,-turn and weep,--'tis manliness
To be heart-broken here,—
For the grave of earth's best nobleness
Is watered by the tear.

Ex. LXXXI.-PROCLIVIOR. (A slight Variation on LONGFELLOW'S "EXCELSIOR.")

THE shades of night were falling fast,
As tow'rd the Haymarket there passed
A youth, whose look told in a trice
That his taste chose the queer device-
PROCLIVIOR!

PUNCE

His hat, a wide-awake; beneath
He tapped a cane against his teeth;
His eye was bloodshot, and there rung,
Midst scraps of slang, in unknown tongue,
PROCLIVIOR!

In calm first-floors he saw the light
Of circles cosy for the night;
But far ahead the gas-lamps glow;

He turned his head, and murmured "Slow."
PROCLIVIOR!

"Come early home," his uncle said,
"We all are early off to bed;

The family blame you far and wide ;"
But loud that noisy youth replied-

66

PROCLIVIOR!

66

Stay," said his aunt, come home to sup; Early retire-get early up."

A wink half quivered in his eye;

He answered to the old dame's sigh----
PROCLIVIOR!

"Mind how you meddle with that lamp!
And mind the pavement, for it's damp!"
Such was the peeler's last good-night.
A faint voice stuttered out "All right."
PROCLIVIOR!

At break of day, as far west-ward
A cab rolled o'er the highways hard,
The early mover stopped to stare
At the wild shouting of the fair—
PROCLIVIOR!

And by the bailiff's faithful hound,
At breakfast-time, a youth was found,
Upon three chairs, with aspect nice,
True to his young life's queer device,
PROCLIVIOR!

Thence, on a dull and muggy day,
They bore him to the bench away,
And there for several months he lay,
While friends speak gravely as they say-
PROCLIVIOR!