back, and tell the new-born child, who sitteth on the Alleghanies, laying his either hand upon a tributary sea, a crown of thirty stars above his youthful brow-tell him there are rights which states must keep, or they shall suffer wrongs. Tell him there is a God who keeps the black man and the white, and hurls to earth the loftiest realm that breaks his just, eternal law! Warn the young empire that he come not down dim and dishonored to my shameful tomb! Tell him that Justice is the unchanging, everlasting will to give each man his Right. I knew it, broke it, and am lost. Bid him to keep it and be safe!"

Ex. CLXII-SPIRIT OF LIBERTY IN 1772.

JOSEPH WARREN.

You have, my friends and countrymen, frustrated the designs of your enemies, by your unanimity and fortitude: it was your union and determined spirit which expelled those troops, who polluted your streets with innocent blood. You have appointed this anniversary as a standard memorial of the bloody consequences of placing an armed force in a populous city, and of your deliverance from the dangers which then seemed to hang over your heads; and I am confident that you will never betray the least want of spirit when called upon to guard your freedom. None but they who set a just value upon the blessings of liberty, are worthy to enjoy her-your illustrious fathers were her zealous votaries— when the blasting frowns of tyranny drove her from public view, they clasped her in their arms; they cherished her in their generous bosoms; they brought her safe over the rough ocean, and fixed her seat in this then dreary wilderness; they nursed her infant age with the most tender care; for her sake, they patiently bore the severest hardships; for her support, they underwent the most rugged toils; in her defense, they boldly encountered the most alarming dangers; neither the ravenous beasts that ranged the woods for prey, nor the more furious savages of the wilderness, could damp their ardor! Whilst with one hand they broke the stubborn glebe, with the other they grasped their weapons, ever ready to protect her from danger. No sacrifice, not even their own blood, was esteemed too rich a libation for her altar! God prospered their valor; they preserved her brilliancy unsul

lied; they enjoyed her whilst they lived, and dying, be

queathed the dear inheritance to your care. And as they left you this glorious legacy, they have undoubtedly transmitted to you some portion of their noble spirit, to inspire you with the virtue to merit her, and courage to preserve her. You surely can not, with such examples before your eyes, as every page of the history of this country affords, suffer your liberties to be ravished from you by lawless force, or cajoled away by flattery and fraud.

PUNCH.

Ex. CLXIII.-CRITIQUE ON HIAWATHA.

You, who hold in grace and honor,
Hold, as one who did you kindness
When he published former poems,
Sang Evangeline the noble,
Sang the golden Golden Legend,
Sang the songs the Voices utter
Crying in the night and darkness,
Sang how unto the Red Planet

Mars he gave the Night's First Watches,
Henry Wadsworth, whose adnomen
(Coming awkward, for the accents,

Into this his latest rhythm)

Write we as Protracted Fellow,
Or in Latin, Longus Comes-
Buy the Song of Hiawatha.

poem

Should you ask me, Is the
Worthy of its predecessors,
Worthy of the sweet conception,
Of the manly nervous diction,
Of the phrase, concise or pliant,
Of the songs that sped the pulses,
Of the songs that gemmed the eyelash,
Of the other works of Henry?
I should answer, I should tell you,
You may wish that you may get it-
Don't you wish that you may get it?

Should you ask me, Is it worthless,
Is it bosh and is it bunkum,

Merely facile flowing nonsense,
Easy to a practiced rhymist,
Fit to charm a private circle,
But not worth the print and paper,
David Bogue hath here expended?
I should answer, I should tell you,
You're a fool and most presumptuous.
Hath not Henry Wadsworth writ it?
Hath not Punch commanded "Buy it ?"

Should you ask me, What's its nature?
Ask me, What's the kind of poem?
Ask me in respectful language,
Touching your respectful beaver,
Kicking back your manly hind-leg,
Like to one who sees his betters;
I should answer, I should tell you,
'Tis a poem in this meter,
And embalming the traditions,
Fables, rites, and superstitions,
Legends, charms, and ceremonials
Of the various tribes of Indians,
From the land of the Ojibways,
From the land of the Dacotahs,

From the mountains, moors, and fenlands,
Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,

Finds its sugar in the rushes:

From the fast-decaying nations,
Which our gentle Uncle Samuel
Is improving, very smartly,
From the face of all creation,
Off the face of all creation.

Should you ask me, By what story,
By what action, plot, or fiction,
All these matters are connected?
I should answer, I should tell you,
Go to Bogue and buy the poem,
Published neatly, at one shilling,
Published sweetly, at five shillings.
Should you ask me, Is there, music
In the structure of the verses,
In the names and in the phrases?
Pleading that, like weaver Bottom,

You prefer your ears well tickled;
I should answer, I should tell you,
Henry's verse is very charming;
And for names-there's Hiawatha,
Who's the hero of the poem;
Mudjeckeewis, that's the West Wind,
Hiawatha's graceless father;

There's Nokomis, there's Wenonah—
Ladies both, of various merit;
Puggawangum, that's a war-club;
Pau-puk-keewis, he's a dandy,

"Barred with streaks of red and yellow
And the women and the maidens
Love the handsome Pau-puk-keewis,"
Tracing in him Punch's likeness.
Then there's lovely Minnehaha—
Pretty name, with pretty meaning—
It implies the Laughing-water;
And the darling Minnehaha
Married noble Hiawatha;

And her story's far too touching
To be sport for you, you donkey,
With your ears like weaver Bottom's,
Ears like booby Bully Bottom.

Once upon a time in London,
In the days of the Lyceum,
Ages ere keen Arnold let it

To the dreadful Northern Wizard,
Ages ere the buoyant Mathews
Tripped upon its boards in briskness-
I remember, I remember

How a scribe, with pen chivalrous,
Tried to save these Indian stories
From the fate of chill oblivion.
Out came sundry comic Indians
Of the tribe of Kut-an-hack-um.
With their Chief, the clean Efmatthews,
With the growling Downy Beaver,
With the valiant Monkey's Uncle,

Came the gracious Mari-Kee-lee,

Firing off a pocket-pistol,

Singing, too, that Mudjee-keewis

(Shortened in the song to "Wild Wind,")

Was a spirit very kindly.

Came her sire, the joyous Kee-lee,
By the waning tribe adopted,
Named the Buffalo, and wedded
To the fairest of the maidens,
But repented of his bargain,
And his brother Kut-an-hack-ums
Very nearly chopped his toes off-
Serve him right, the fickle Kee-lee.
If you ask me, What this memory
Hath to do with Hiawatha,

And the poem which I speak of?
I should answer, I should tell you,
You're a fool, and most presumptuous;
'Tis not for such humble cattle
To inquire what links and unions
Join the thoughts, and mystic meanings,
Of their betters, mighty poets,

Mighty writers-Punch the mightiest ;
I should answer, I should tell you,
Shut your mouth, and go to David,
David, Mr. Punch's neighbor,
Buy the Song of Hiawatha,

Read, and learn, and then be thankful
Unto Punch and Henry Wadsworth,

Punch and noble Henry Wadsworth,
Truer poet, better fellow,

Than to be annoyed at jesting,

From his friend, great Punch, who loves him.

Ex. CLXIV.-HAMLET TO THE PLAYERS.

SHAKSPEARE.

;

SPEAK the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly, on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of the players do, I had as lief the town-crier had spoke my lines. And do not saw the air too much with your hand but use all gently: for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beset a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh!`it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious, periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears