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pit is false to its trust. I call on the fair merchant, who has reaped his harvest upon the seas, that he assist in scourging from those seas the worst pirates which ever
infested them. That ocean, which seems to wave with 50 a gentle magnificence to waft the burdens of an honest
commerce, and to roll along its treasures with a scious pride ; that ocean, which hardy industry regards, even when the winds have ruffled its surface, as a field
of grateful toil; what is it to the viction of this oppres55 sion, when he is brought to its shores, and looks forth
upon it, for the first time, from beneath chains, and bleeding with stripes ? What is it to him, but a wide spread prospect of suffering, anguish and death? Nor
do the skies smile longer, nor is the air longer fragrant 60 to him. The sun is cast down from heaven. An in
human and accursed traffic has cut him off in his manhood, or in his youth, from every enjoyment belonging to his being, and every blessing which his Creator intended for him.
Dream of Clarence.
I would not spend another such a night,
Methought, that I had broken from the Tower, And was embarked to cross to Burgundy;
And, in my company, my brother Gloster, 10 Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches ; thence we looked toward England,
That had befallen us. As we pac'd along 15 Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought, that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling,
20 What dreadful noise of waters in my ears !
What sights of ugly death within my eyes !
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 25 Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels ;
All scattered in the bottom of the sea.
As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gens,
-Often did I strive
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 35 To find the empty, vast, and wandering air ;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
My dream was lengthened after life ;
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?"
Dabbled in blood ! and he shrieked out aloud50 “ Clarence is come-false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
- That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury ;Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments !”— With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environed me, and howled in mine ears
I trembling waked; and, for a season after,
60. Moral Sublimity.
- What can strive
Such powerful beauty; beauty which the eye 5 Of hatred cannot look upon secure :
Which envy's self contemplates, and is turned
In all the dewy landscapes of the spring,
At harvest home, or in the frosty morn
Whither from highest heaven immortal love 15 His torch etherial and his golden bow
Propitious brings, and there a ternple holds
With smiles and sweet discourse and gentle deeds 20 Adore his power ? What gift of richest clime
E’er drew such eager eyes, or prompted such
Or crosseth danger in his lion walk, 25 A rival's life to rescue ? as the young
Athenian warrior sitting down in bonds,
Teaching her lord how harmless was the wound 30 Of death, how impotent the tyrant's rage,
Who nothing more could threaten to afflict
Wheeling unshaken through the boundless void, 35 Aught that with half such majesty can fill
The human bosom, as when Brutus rose
Aloft extending, like eternal Jove
When guilt brings down the thunder, called aloud 40 On Tully's name, and shook the crimson sword
Of justice in his wrapt astonished eye,
Ask any one man of morals, whether he approves of assassination ; he will answer, No. Would you kill your friend and benefactor ? No. The question is a
horrible insult. Would you practise hypocrisy, and 5 smile in his face, while your conspiracy is ripening, to
gain his confidence and to lull him into security, in
his heart. Yet in this picture we see Brutus. It would 10 perhaps, be scarcely just to hold him up to abhorrence;
it is, certainly, monstrous and absurd to exhibit his conduct to admiration.
He did not strike the tyrant from hatred or ambition; his motives were admitted to be good; but was not the 15 action, nevertheless, bad?
To kill a tyrant is as much murder, as to kill any other man. Besides, Brutus, to extenuate the crime, could have had no rational hope of putting an end to
the tyranny; he had foreseen and provided nothing to 20 realize it. The conspirators relied, foolishly enough,
on the love of the multitude for liberty-they loved their safety, their ease, their sports, and their demagogue favourites a great deal better. They quietly looked on,
as spectators, and left it to the legions of Antony, and 25 Octavius, and those of Syria, Macedonia, and Greece
to decide, in the field of Philippi, whether there should be a republic or not. It was, accordingly, decided in favour of an emperor ; and the people sincerely rejoiced
in the political claim, that restored the games of the cir30 cus, and the plenty of bread.
Those who cannot bring their judgments to condemn the killing of a tyrant must nevertheless agree that the blood of Cæsar was unprofitably shed. Liberty gained
nothing by it, and humanity lost much; for it cost eigh35 teen years of agitation and civil war, before the ambi
tion of the military and popular chieftains had expended its means, and the power was concentrated in one man's hands.
Shall we be told, the example of Brutus is a good one, 40 because it will never cease to animate the race of ty
rant-killers—But will the fancied usefulness of assassination overcome our instinctive sense of its horror ? Is it to become a part of our political morals, that the chief
of a state is to be stabbed or poisoned, whenever a fa45 natic, a malecontent, or a reformer shall rise up and
call him a tyrant ? Then there would be as little calm in despotism as in liberty.
But when has it happened, that the death of an usurper has restored to the public liberty its departed life! 50 Every successful usurpation creates many competitors
for power, and they successively fall in the struggles. In all this agitation, liberty is without friends, without resources, and without hope. Blood enough, and the
blood of tyrants too, was shed between the time of the 55 wars of Marius and death of Antony, a period of abouf
sixty years, to turn a common grist-mill; yet the cause of the public liberty continually grew more and more desperate. It is not by destroying tyrants, that we are
to extinguish tyranny: nature is not thus to be exhaust60 ed of her power to produce them. The soil of a repub
lic sprouts with the rankest fertility ; it has been sown with dragon's teeth. To lessen the hopes of usurping demagogues, we must enlighten, animate and combine
the spirit of freemen; we must fortify and guard the 65 constitutional rainparts about liberty. When its friends
become insolent or disheartened, it is no longer of any importance how long-lived are its enemies : they will