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631. BRUTUS' HARANGUE ON CESAR's Dioptrics, optics, katoptrics, carbon, DEATH. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! Chlorine, and iodine, and aerostatics; hear me--for my cause; and be silent, that Also,—why frogs, for want of air, expire; you may hear. Believe me—for mine honor; And how to set the 'Tappan sea on fire! and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and In all the modern languages, she was awake your senses, that you may the better Exceedingly well versed; and had devoted, judge. If there be any, in this assembly, any To their attainment, far more time than has, dear friend of Cesar's, to him I say that Brutus’ love to Cesar-was no less than his. If, For she had taken lessons, twice a week,
By the best teachers lately, been allotted; then, that friend demand, why Brutus-rose For a full month in each; and she could speak against Cesar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cesar--less, but, that I loved Rome French and Italian, equally as well more. Had you rather Cesar were living, and As Chinese, Portuguese, or German; and die all slaves; than that Cesar were dead, to What is still more surprising, she could spell live all freemen ? As Cesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; was quite familiar in Low Dutch and Spanish,
Most of our longest English words, off hand; as he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears And tho't of studying modern Greek and Danish. for his love, joy-for his törtune, honor—for She sang divinely: and in “Love's young dream,” his valor, and death—for his ambition. Who's here so base, that would be a bondman? if And every song whose dear delightful theme,
And "Fanny dearest," and "The soldier's bride;" any, speak; for him--have I offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman? if
Is “Love, still love," had oft till midnight tried any, speak? for him-have I oflended. Who's Her finest, loftiest pigeon-wings of sound, here so vile, that will not love his country? if Waking the very watchmen far around.-Halleck. any, speak; for him--have I offended. -I 633. Charity. Though I speak--with pause for a reply.
the tongues of men, and of angels, and have None! then none--have I offended. I have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, done no more to Cesar, than you should do to or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the Brutus. The question of his death-is en- gift of prophecy, and understand all mysterolled in the capitol; his glory not extenuated, ries, and all knowledge; and though I have wherein he was worthy; nor his oflences en- all faith, so that I could' remove mountains, forced, for which he suffered death.
and have not charity, I am nothing. Here comes his body, mourned by Mark
And though I bestow all my goods to feed Antony; who, though he had no hand in his the poor, and though I give my body to be death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me place in the commonwealth; as, which of you nothing. Charity-suffereth long, and is kind; shall not ?-With this I depart—that as I charity--envieth not; charity-vaunteth not slew my best lover-for the good of Rome, i itself; it is not pusled up; doth not behave ithave the same dagger for myself, when it shall self unseemly; seeketh not her own; is not please my country to need my death. easily provoked; thinketh no evil; rejoiceth
not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; 632. ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG LADY. beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth She shone, at every concert; where are bought
all things, endureth all things.
Charity--never faileth: but whether there Tickets, by all who wish them, for a dollar;
be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there She patronised the theatre, and thought,
be tongues, they shall cease; whether there That Wallack looked extremely well in Rolla; be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we She fell in love, as all the ladies do,
know, in part, and we prophecy, in part. But, With Mr. Simpson-talked as loudly, too,
when that which is perfect, is come, then that,
which is in part, shall be done away. As any beauty of the highest grade,
When I was a child, I spake as a child, I To the gay circle in the box beside her; understood as a child, I thought as a child; And when the pit-half vexed, and half afraid, but when I became a man, I put away child
With looks of smothered indignation eyed her; ish things. For now, we see through a glass, She calmly met their gaze, and stood before 'em,
darkly; but then, face to face: now, I know Smiling at vulgar taste, and mock decorum.
in part; but then, shall I know, even as also
I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, And though by no means a “Bas bleu,” she had charity, these three; but the greatest of these For literature, a most becoming passion;
is charity.–St Paul. Had skimmed the latest novels, good, and bad, And read the Croakers, when they were in When first thy eyes unvail, give thy soul leave fashion;
To do the like; our bodies—but forerun And Dr. Chalmers' sermons, of a Sunday; (gundi. The spirit's duty; true hearts-spread and heave And Woodworth's Cabinet, and the new Salma- Unto their God, as flowers do--to the sun;
Give him thy first tho'ts then, soshalt thou keep
Him company-all day, and in him-sleep.
Dawn with the day; there are set--awful hours
'Twixt heaven and us; the manna-was not good Themselves for acting well, in life, their part, As wives and mothers. There she learn’d by heart
Afier sun rising; for day-sullies flowers:
Rise—10 prevent the sun ; sleep-doth sins glut, Words, to the witches in Macbeth unknown, And heaven's gate opens, when the world's is shut. Hydraulics, hydrostatics, and pneumatics,
Converse with nature's charms, and see her stores unrolld.
EARLY RISING AND PRAYER.
634. SAILOR BOY'S DREAM.
635. CHILD HAROLD.-CANTO IV. In slumbers of midnight, the sailor boy lay;
Oh! that the desert-were my dwelling place, His hammock swung loose, at the sport of the wind;
With one fair spirit-for my minister, But watch-worn, and weary, his cares flew away,
That I might all forget the human race, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.
And hating no one, love but only her!
Ye elements !-in whose ennobling stir, He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers,
I feel myself exalted-Can ye not And pleasure that waited on life's merry morn;
Accord me such a being? Do I err While memory-stood sideways, half covered with flowers,
In deeming such—inhabit many a spot ! And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn.
Though with them to converse, can rarely be our lot. Then fancy, her magical pinions spread wide,
There is a pleasure-in the pathless woods, And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise
There is a rapture-on the lonely shore, Now far, far behind him, the green waters glide,
There is society where none intrudes, And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.
By the deep sea, and music in its roar: The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch,
I love not man the less, but nature more, And the swallow sings sweet, from her nest in the wall ;
From these our interviews, in which I steal All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
From all I may be, or have been before, And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.
To mingle-with the Universe, and feel A father bends o'er him, with looks of delight,
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. His cheek is impearled, with a mother's warm tear,
Roll on, thou deep, and dark blue ocean-roll! And the lips of the boy, in a love-kiss unite,
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; With the lips of the maid, whom his bosom holds dear.
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,
Stops with the shore ;- upon the watery plain Joy quickens his pulse—all his hardships seem o'er,
'The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain And murmur of happiness steals through his rest
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own; "O God, thou hast blessed me-I ask for no more.”
When for a moment, like a drop of rain, Ah, what is that fame which now bursts on his eye!
He sinks into thy depths, with bubbling groan, Ah, what is that sound, which now larums his ear!
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. 'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky!
The armaments which thunderstrike the walls 'Tis the crash of the thunder, the groan of the sphere !
of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, He springs from his hammock-he flies to the deck,
And monarchs tremble, in their capitals, Amazement confronts him with images dire
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Wild winds, and waves drive the vessel a wreck
Their clay creator, the vain title takeThe masts fly in splinters—the shrouds are on fire !
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war! Like mountains, the billows tremendously swell
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, In vain the lost wretch calls on Mary to save;
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mår Unseen hands of spirits are wringing his knell,
Alike, the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar, And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave!
Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee Oh! sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight!
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
Thy waters wasted them, while they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts - not so thou Oh! sailor boy ! sailor boy ! never again
Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' playShall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay ;
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow-
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Or redeem form, or frame, from the merciless surge ;
(Calm, or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge.
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime,
Dark-heaving,)-boundless, endless, and sublimeOn beds of green sea-flower, thy limbs shall be laid;
The image of Eternity-the throne Around thy white bones, the red coral shall grow;
of the Invisible; even from out thy slime Of thy fair yellow locks, threads of amber be made,
The monsters of the deep are made ! each zone And every part suit to thy mansion below.
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away,
And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy And the vast waters over thy body shall roll
of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Earth loses thy pattern forever, and aye
Borne like the bubbles, onward ; from a boy, Oh! sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul.-Dimond.
I wantoned with thy breakers-they to me TIME AND ITS CHANGES. Reformation is
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea a work of time. A national taste, however
Made them a terror—'twas a pleasing fear, wrong it may be, cannot be totally changed
For I was, as it were, a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near, at once; we must yield a little to the prepossession, which has taken hold on the mind,
And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here. and we may then bring people to adopt what in the dreams of delight, which with ardor we would offend them, if endeavored to be intro Oft the phantom of sorrow appears ; [seek, duced by violence.
And the roses of pleasure, which bloom on your What's fame? a fancied life in other's breath, Must be steeped in the dew of your tears.(cheek, A thing beyond us, e'en before our death. The aged man, that coffers up his gold, [fits, All fame is foreign, but of true desert,
Is plagu'd with cramps, and gouts, and painful Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart; And scarce hath eyes, his treasure to behold, One self-approving hour, whole years outweighs But still, like pining Tantalus, he sits, Of stupid starers, and of loud hussas :
And useless bans the harvest of his wits,
But torment, that it cannot cure his pain.
To err-is human; to forgive-divine.
636. PATRIOTIC TRIUMPH, The citizens of America-celebrate that day, which gave birth to their liberties. The recollection of this event, replete with consequences so beneficial to mankind, swells every heart with joy, and fills every tongue with praise. We celebrate, not the sanguinary exploits of a tyrant, to subjugate, and enslave-millions of his fellow-creatures; we celebrate, neither the birth, nor the coronation, of that phantom, styled a king; but, the resurrection of liberty, the emancipation of mankind, the regeneration of the world. These are the sources of our joy, these the causes of our triumph. We pay no homage at the tomb of kings, to sublime our feelings
we trace no line of illustrious ancesters, to support our dignity -we recur to no usages sanctioned by the authority of the great, to protect our rejoicing; no, we love liberty, we glory in the rights of men, we glory in independence. On whatever part of God's creation a human form pines under chains, there, Americans drop their tears.
A dark cloud once shaded this beautiful quarter of the globe. Consternation, for awhile, agitated the hearts of the inhabitants. War desolated our fields, and buried our vales in blood. But the dayspring from on high soon opened upon us its glittering portals. The angel of liberty descending, dropped on Washington's brow, the wreath of victory, and stamped on American freedom, the seal of omnipotence. The darkness is past, and the true light now shines—to enliven, and rejoice mankind. We tread a new earth, in which dwelleth righteousness; and view a new heaven, flaming with inextinguishable stars. Our feet will no more descend into the vale of oppressions; our shoulders will no more bend-under the weight of a foreign domination, as cruel, as it was unjust. Well may we rejoice-at the return of this glorious anniversary; a day dear to every American; a day-to be had in everlasting remembrance; a day, whose light circulates joy-through the hearts of all republicans, and terror through the hearts of all tyrants.—Maxy. 637.
TIT FOR TAT: COQUETRY PUNISHED.
Whose mirrors-never lie;
A clown could take her eye ?"
The maid design'd to bless;
For village folks will guess.
So bashful was the youth ;
Officially, the truth.
At length, one morn, to taste the air,
A long excursion took.
He could no longer brook.
Seem'd join'd to skies above :
Forbade to speak of love.
With most persuasive tone;
If she'd become his own.
She, tittered in his face;
But he should know his place.
I never dream'd of such a thing."
“ The linch-pin's out!” he cried ;
That we may safely ride.”
In solitude to roam."
Nay, stop, and take me home.”
Or in your bosom spring. [word,
I never dream'd of such a thing !"
638. RECITATIONS INSTEAD OF THEA 639. WATERLOO; THE BALL AND BATTLE. TRES. In its present state, the theatre-de. There was a sound of revelry-by night, serves no encouragement. "It has nourished And Belgium's capital—had gathered then intemperance, and all vice. In saying this, Her beauty, and her chivalry; and bright I do not say that the amusement is radically, The lamps shone o'er fair women, and brave men essentially evil. I can conceive of a theatre, which would be the noblest of all amuse
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when ments, and would take a high rank, among Music arose, with its voluptuous swell, the means of refining the taste, and elevating Soft eyes looked love, to eyes, which spake again, the character of a people. The deep woes, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; [knell! the mighty, and terrible passions, and the But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising sublime emotions—of genuine tragedy, are fitted to thrill us with human sympathies, Did ye not hear it?–No; 'twas but the wind, with profound interest in our nature, with a Or the car, rattling o'er the stony street: consciousness of what man can do, and dare, On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; and sutler, with an awed feeling of the fearful No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet, mysteries of life. The soul of the spectator To chase the glowing hours, with flying feet is stirred from its depths; and the lethargy, But hark! That heavy sound breaks in once more, in which so many live, is roused, at least for a time, to some intenseness of thought, and As if the clouds—its echo would repeat; sensibility. The drama answers a high pur- And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! [roar! pose, when it places us in the presence of the Arm! arm! it is—it is the cannon's opening most solemn, and striking event of human Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, history, and lays bare to us the human heart, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, in its most powerful, appalling, glorious workings. But how little does the theatre and cheeks ali pale, which but an hour ago accomplish its end? How often is it disgra- Blushed-at the praise of their own loveliness : ced, by monstrous distortions of human na- And there were sudden partings, such as press ture, and still more disgraced by profaneness, The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs, coarseness, indelicacy, low wit, such as no Which ne'er might be repeated; for who could woman, worthy of the name, can hear with Ifever more should meet, those mutualeyes, (guess, out a blush, and no man can take pleasure Since upon night, so sweet, such awful morn in-without self-degradation. Is it possible, that a christian, and a refined people, can re
could rise ? sort to theatres, where exhibitions of danc- And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed, ing are given, fit only for brothels, and where The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, the most licentious class in the community | Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, throng, unconcealed, to tempt, and destroy? And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; That the theatre should be suffered to exist, in its present degradation, is a reproach to And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar; the community. Were it to fall, a better dra- And near, the beat of the alarming drum, ma might spring up in its place. In the Roused up the soldier, ere the morning star; meantime, is there not an amusement, hav- While thronged the citizens, with terror dumb, ing an affinity with the drama, which might Or whispering with white lips—“The foe! they be usefully introduced among us? I mean,
come! they come !" Recitations. A work of genius, recited by a man of fine taste, enthusiasm, and powers of And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, elocution, is a very pure, and high" gratifica- Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, tion. Were this art cultivated, and encour-Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, aged, great numbers, now insensible to the Over the unreturning brave,-alas ! most beautiful compositions, might be waked Ere evening, to be trodden like the grass, up to their excellence, and power. It is not which now beneath them, but above shall grow, easy to conceive of a more effectual way, of spreading a refined taste through a commu- In its next verdure, when this fiery mass nity. The drama, undoubtedly, appeals more of living valor, rolling on the foe, [and low. strongly to the passions than recitation; but And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold, the latter brings out the meaning of the author Last noon-beheld them, full of lusty life, more. Shakspeare, worthily recited, would be better understood than on the stage. Then, in Last eve-in beauty's circle, proudly gay, recitation, we escape the weariness of listen- The midnight-brought the signal-sound of strife, ing to poor performers; who, after all, fill up 'The morn-the marshaling in arms,—the day, most of the time at the theatre. Recitations, Battle's magnificently-stern array! (rent, sufficiently varied, so as to include pieces of The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which, when, chaste wit, as well of pathos, beauty and The earth is covered thick with other clay, sublimity, is adapted to our present intellect- which her own clay shall cover, heaped, and pent, yal progress, as much as the drama falls below ít. Should this exhibition be introduced Rider and horse,-friend, foe,-in one red burial
blent! among iis successfully, the result would be,
What's in the air? that the power of recitation would be extensively called forth, and this would be added Some subtle spirit-runs through all my veins; to our social, and domestic pleasures. Hope-seems to ride, this morning, on the wind, Thou knowest but little,
And outshines the sun. If thou dost think true virtue-is confined When things go wrong, each fool presumes t' adTo climes, or systems; no, it flows spontaneous, And if niore happy, thinks himelf more wise: (vise, Like life's warm stream, throughout the whole cre All wretchedly deplore the present state; And beats the pulse of every healthful heart. (ation, l And that advice seems best, which comes too late.
640. FEVER DREAM.
Thirst raged within me.--I sought the deepest vale,
Meanwhile the skies, on which they dared not gaze,
" Rend, oh! ye lightninga! the sealed firmament,
Luxurious death! Ye earthquakes, split the globe,
Thus raged the multitude. And many fell
641. NOSE AND THE MAN Kind friends, at your call, I'm come here to sing ;
Or rather to talk of my woes;
The subject's concerning my nose.
For nature's vagaries are such,
Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me!
And by joking, my friends are all foes; And the boys every day, as I
thro' the street, All bellow out—“There goes a nose!'” A woman, with matches one day, I came near,
Who, just as I tried to get by her,
Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me!
To be married we were, the next day;
My nose got too much in the way. For the night before marriage, entranc'd with my
In love, e'er some torment occurs [bliss, I screw'd up my lips, just to give her a kiss, My nose slipp'd, and rubb'd against hers!
Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me! The ring that I gave, at my head soon she throws, And another tipp'd me, 'twas a w-ring on the nose. Like a porter all day, with fatigue fit to crack,
I'm seeking for rest, at each place,
Only my load I bear on my face.
The girls they all blush, like a rose; "I'm afraid to have you!" when I ask 'em for why? Because, you have got such a nose.
Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me! Their cause of refusal I cannot suppose, They all like the man, but they say-blow his nose! Like a large joint of meat, before a small fire,
They say that my proboscis hangsOr, to a brass knocker, nought there can be nigher,
And in length, it a pump-handle bangs. A wag, you must know, just by way of a wipe,
Said, with a grin on his face, t'other night, As he, from his pocket, was pulling a pipe, “At your nose will you give me a light?”
Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me! If I ask any one my way to disclose, If I lose it-they answer, why, follow your nost.