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made to the understanding or to the heart, the sentence is the same that rejects it. In vain you tell me of laws that sanction such a claim! There is a law above all the enactments of human codes-the same throughout the world -the same in all times; such as it was before the daring genius of Columbus pierced the night of ages, and opened to one world the sources of power, wealth, and knowledge, to another all unutterable woes-such is it at this day: it is the law written by the finger of God on the heart of man; and by that law, unchangeable and eternal-while men despise fraud, and loathe rapine, and hate blood-they shall reject with indignation the wild and guilty fantasy, that man can hold property in man! In vain you appeal to treaties-to covenants between nations. The covenants of the Almighty, whether the old covenant or the new, denounce such unholy pretensions. To these laws did they of old refer, who maintained the African trade. Such treaties did they cite-and not untruly; for, by one shameful compact, you bartered the glories of Blenheim for the traffic in blood. Yet, in despite of law and of treaty, that infernal traffic is now destroyed, and its votaries put to death like other pirates. How came this change to pass? Not, assuredly, by parliament leading the way: but the country at length awoke; the indignation of the people was kindled; it descended in thunder, and smote the traffic, and scattered its guilty profits to the winds. Now, then, let the planters beware-let their assemblies beware-let the government at home beware-let the parliament beware! The same country is once more awake-awake to the condition of Negro slavery; the same indignation kindles in the bosom of the same people; the same cloud is gathering that annihilated the slave-trade; and if it shall descend again, they on whom its crash may fall, will not be destroyed before I have warned them: but I pray, that their destruction may turn away from us the more terrible judgments of God.

Peroration to Sheridan's Invective against Warren Hastings.

BEFORE I Come to the last magnificent paragraph, let me call the attention of those who, possibly, think themselves capable of judging of the dignity and character of justice in this country;-let me call the attention of those

who, arrogantly perhaps, presume that they understand what the features, what the duties of justice are here and in India;—let them learn a lesson from this great statesman, this enlarged, this liberal philosopher:-"I hope I shall not depart from the simplicity of official language, in saying, that the Majesty of Justice ought to be approached with solicitation, not descend to provoke or invite it, much less to debase itself by the suggestion of wrongs, and the promise of redress, with the denunciation of punishment before trial, and even before accusation." This is the exhortation which Mr. Hastings makes to his Counsel. This is the character which he gives of British justice.

But I will ask your Lordships, do you approve this representation? Do you feel, that this is the true image of Justice? Is this the character of British Justice? Are these her features? Is this her countenance? Is this her gait or her mien? No; I think even now I hear you calling upon me to turn from this vile libel, this base caricature, this Indian pagod, formed by the hand of guilty and knavish tyranny, to dupe the heart of ignorance,―to turn from this deformed idol, to the true Majesty of Justice here. Here, indeed, I see a different form, enthroned by the sovereign hand of Freedom,-awful, without severity-commanding, without pride-vigilant and active, without restlessness or suspicion-searching and inquisitive, without meanness or debasement-not arrogantly scorning to stoop to the voice of afflicted innocence, and in its loveliest attitude when bending to uplift the suppliant at its feet.

It is by the majesty, by the form of that Justice, that I do conjure and implore your Lordships, to give your minds to this great business; that I exhort you to look, not so much to words which may be denied or quibbled away, but to the plain facts,-to weigh and consider the testimony in your own minds: we know the result must be inevitable. Let the truth appear, and our cause is gained. It is this-I conjure your Lordships, for your own honour, for the honour of the nation, for the honour of human nature, now entrusted to your care,—it is this duty that the Commons of England, speaking through us, claim at your hands.

They exhort you to it by every thing that calls sublimely upon the heart of man-by the Majesty of that

Justice which this bold man has libelled-by the wide fame of your own tribunal-by the sacred pledge by which you swear in the solemn hour of decision; knowing that that decision will then bring you the highest reward that ever blessed the heart of man-the consciousness of having done the greatest act of mercy for the world, that the earth has ever yet received from any hand but Heaven.My Lords, I have done.

Panegyric on the Eloquence of Sheridan.

He has this day surprised the thousands who hung with rapture on his accents, by such an array of talents, such an exhibition of capacity, such a display of powers, as are unparalleled in the annals of oratory; a display that reflected the highest honour on himself-lustre upon letters-renown upon parliament-glory upon the country. Of all species of rhetoric, of every kind of eloquence that has been witnessed or recorded, either in ancient or modern times; whatever the acuteness of the bar, the dignity of the senate, the solidity of the judgment-seat, and the sacred morality of the pulpit, have hitherto furnished; nothing has equalled what we have this day heard. No holy seer of religion, no statesman, no orator, no man of any literary description whatever, has come up, in the one instance, to the pure sentiments of morality; or, in the other, to that variety of knowledge, force of imagination, propriety and vivacity of allusion, beauty and elegance of diction, strength and copiousness of style, pathos and sublimity of conception, to which we, this day, listened with ardour and admiration. From poetry up to eloquence, there is not a species of composition, of which a complete and perfect specimen might not, from that single speech, be culled and collected.

Burke.

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PROMISCUOUS SELECTIONS IN VERSE.

Apostrophe to Love.

O HAPPY' love'! where love' like this' is found;
O heart-felt' raptures'! bliss' beyond compare'!
I've paced much this weary, mortal round',
And sage Experience bids me this' declare'-
If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare',
One cordial in this melancholy vale',

'Tis when a youthful, loving', modest' pair',

In other's' arms' breathe out the tender' tale', Beneath the milk-white` thorn', that scents' the evening' gale'!

Is there, in human form, that bears a heart-
A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth!
That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
Betray sweet Jenny's' unsuspecting youth?
Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling' smooth!
Are honour', virtue', conscience', all' exiled?
Is there no pity', no relenting ruth',

Points' to the parents' fondling' o'er their child';
Then paints' the ruin'd' maid', and their' distraction' wild?`

Burns.

The Soldier's Dream.

OUR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lower'd,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die-

When, reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain,
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track:
"Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,

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And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart

Stay, stay with us-rest, thou art weary and worn!"
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay:-

But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,

And the voice in my dreaming ear-melted away!

Campbell.

On True Dignity.

"HAIL, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast,
And woo the weary to profound repose!
Can Passion's wildest uproar lay to rest,
And whisper comfort to the man of woes?
Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes,
And Contemplation soar on seraph-wings.
O Solitude! the man who thee foregoes,
When lucre lures him, or ambition stings,
Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs.

"Vain man! is grandeur given to gay attire?
Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid :-
To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire?
It is thy weakness that requires their aid:-
To palaces, with gold and gems inlay'd?
They fear the thief, and tremble in the storm:-
To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade?
Behold the victor vanquish'd by the worm!
Behold what deeds of wo the locust can perform!

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