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When the fierce mob, with clubs and knives, All vowed that nothing should content them, But that their representatives

Should actually represent them; He interposed the proper checks,

By sending troops with drums and banners,

To cut their speeches short, and necks,

And break their heads to mend their manners.

And when Dissension flung her stain

Upon the light of Hymen's altar,
And Destiny made Cupid's chain
As galling as the hangman's halter;
He passed a most domestic life,
By many mistresses befriended,
And did not put away his wife,

For fear the priest should be offended.

And thus, at last, he sunk to rest,
Amid the blessings of his people;

And sighs were heard from every breast,
And bells were tolled from every steeple;
And loud was every public throng

His brilliant character adorning,

And poets raised a mourning song,

And clothiers raised the price of mourning.

His funeral was very grand,

Followed by many robes and maces,

And all the great ones of the land,

Struggling, as heretofore, for places;

And every loyal minister

Was there, with signs of purse-felt sorrow,

Save Pozzy, his lord chancellor,

Who promised to attend to-morrow.

Peace to his dust! His fostering care

By grateful hearts shall long be cherished; And all his subjects shall declare

They lost a grinder when he perished. They who shall look upon the lead,

In which a people's love hath shrined him, Shall say, when all the worst is said,

Perhaps he leaves a worse behind him!

Ex. CLXXXVII.—THE ABOLITION OF WAR.

CHARLES SUMNER.

66

FAR be from us, fellow-citizens, on this anniversary, the illusions of national freedom in which we are too prone to indulge. We have but half done, when we have made ourselves free. Let not the scornful taunt be directed at us: They wish to be free; but know not how to be just." Freedom is not an end in itself; but a means only; a means of securing justice and happiness, the real end and aim of States, as of every human heart. It becomes us to inquire earnestly if there is not much to be done by which these can be promoted. If I have succeeded in impressing on your minds the truths which I have upheld to-day, you will be ready to join in efforts for the abolition of war, and all preparation for war, as the true and only means of national grandeur.

To this great work let me summon you. That future which filled the lofty visions of the sages and bards of Greece and Rome, which was foretold by the prophets, and heralded by the evangelists, when man in happy isles, or in a new paradise, shall confess the loveliness of peace, may be secured by your care, if not for yourselves,-at least, for your children. Believe that you can do it, and you can do it. The true golden age is before you, not behind you. If man has been driven once from paradise, while an angel with a flaming sword forbade his return, there is another paradise, even on earth, which he may form for himself, by the cultivation of the kindly vir tues of life, where the confusion of tongues shall be dissolved in the union of hearts, where there shall be a perpetual jocund spring, and sweet strains borne on "the odoriferous wings of gentle gales," more pleasant than the vale of Tempe, richer than the garden of the Hesperides, with no dragon to guard its golden fruit.

Let it not be said that the age does not demand this work. The mighty conquerors of the past, from their fiery sepulchers, demand it; the blood of millions unjustly shed in war, crying from the ground, demands it; the voices of all good men demand it; the conscience, even of the soldier, whispers "Peace!" These are considerations, springing from our situation and condition, which fervently invite us to take the lead in this great work. To this should bend the patriotic ardor of the land; the ambition of the statesman; the efforts of the scholar; the pervasive influence of the press; the mild persuasion of the sanctuary; the early teachings of the school. Here, in ampler

ether and diviner air, are untried fields for exalted triumphs, more truly worthy the American name, than any snatched from rivers of blood. War is known as the Last Reason of Kings. Let it be no reason of our Republic. Let us renounce and throw off, for ever, the yoke of a tyranny more oppressive than any in the annals of the world. As those standing on the mountain-top first discern the coming beams of morning, let us, from the vantage-ground of liberal institutions, first recognize the ascending sun of a new era!

It is a beautiful picture in Grecian story, that there was, at least, one spot, the small island of Delos, dedicated to the gods, and kept at all times sacred from war, where the citizens of hostile countries met, and united in a common worship. So let us dedicate our broad country! The temple of honor shall be surrounded by the temple of concord, so that the former can be entered only through the portals of the latter; the horn of abundance shall overflow at its gates; the angel of religion shall be the guide over its steps of flashing adamant while within JUSTICE, returned to the earth, from her long exile in the skies, shall rear her serene and majestic front. And the future chiefs of the republic, destined to uphold the glories of a new era, unspotted by human blood, shall be "the first in peace, and the first in the hearts of their country

men."

But while we seek these blissful glories for ourselves, let us strive to extend them to other lands. Let the bugles sound the Truce of God to the whole world, for ever! Let the selfish boast of the Spartan woman become the grand chorus of mankind, that they have never seen the smoke of an enemy's camp. Let the iron belt of martial music which now encompasses the earth, be exchanged for the golden cestus of Peace, clothing all with celestial beauty. History dwells with fondness on the reverent homage, that was bestowed, by massacring soldiers, on the spot occupied by the sepulcher of the Lord. Vain man! to restrain his regard to a few feet of sacred mold! The whole earth is the sepulcher of the Lord; nor can any righteous man profane any part thereof. Let us recognize this truth; and now, on this Sabbath of our country, lay a new stone in the grand temple of universal peace, whose dome shall be as lofty as the firmament of heaven, as broad and comprehensive as the earth itself.

Ex. CLXXXVIIL-RIENZI TO THE ROMANS

MOORE.

ROMANS! look round you-on this sacred place
There once stood shrines, and gods, and godlike men-
What see you now? what solitary trace

Is left of all that made Rome's glory then?
The shrines are sunk; the sacred mount bereft
Even of its name-and nothing now remains
But the deep memory of that glory, left

To whet our pangs and aggravate our chains!
But shall this be?-our sun and sky the same,
Treading the very soil our fathers trod,-
What withering curse hath fallen on soul and frame,
What visitation hath there come from God

To blast our strength and rot us into slaves,
Here, on our great forefathers' glorious graves?
It can not be-rise up, ye mighty dead,

If we, the living, are too weak to crush
These tyrant priests, that o'er your empire tread,
Till all but Romans at Rome's tameness blush!

Happy Palmyra! in thy desert domes,

Where only date-trees sigh, and serpents hiss;
And thou, whose pillars are but silent homes
For the stork's brood, superb Persepolis!
Thrice happy both, that your extinguished race
Have left no embers-no half-living trace—
No slaves, to crawl around the once proud spot,
Till past renown in present shame 's forgot;
While Rome, the queen of all, whose very wrecks,
If lone and lifeless through a desert hurled,
Would wear more true magnificence than decks
The assembled thrones of all the existing world-
Rome, Rome alone, is haunted, stained, and cursed,
Through every spot her princely Tiber laves,
By living human things-the deadliest, worst,
That earth engenders-tyrants and their slaves!
And we-oh! shame!-we, who have pondered o'er
The patriot's lesson, and the poet's lay;

Have mounted up the streams of ancient lore,
Tracking our country's glories all the way—
Even we have tamely, basely kissed the ground,
Before that Papal power, that ghost of her,

The world's imperial mistress-sitting, crowned
And ghastly, on her moldering sepulcher!
But this is past-too long have lordly priests,
And priestly lords led us, with all our pride
Withering about us-like devoted beasts,

Dragged to the shrine, with faded garlands tied.
'Tis o'er the dawn of our deliverance breaks!
Up from his sleep of centuries awakes

The genius of the old republic, free

As first he stood, in chainless majesty,

And sends his voice through ages yet to come,
Proclaiming Rome, Rome, Rome, Eternal Rome!

Ex. CLXXXIX.-DESTINY OF OUR COUNTRY.

JOSEPH STORY.

We

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 self-respect. 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 to preserve what they themselves have created?

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 low sands 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.

Can it be that America, under such circumstances, can

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