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name of Heaven is it, if it is not the establishment of a revolutionary tribunal? It drives the judge from his bench; it does away with that which is more sacred than the throne itself, that for which your king reigns, your lords deliberate, your commons assemble. If ever I doubted before of the success of our agitation for repeal, this bill,—this infamous bill, the way in which it has been received by the House; the manner in which its opponents have been treated; the personalities to which they have been subjected; the yells with which one of them has this night been greeted, — all these things dissipate my doubts, and tell me of its complete and early triumph. Do you think those yells will be forgotten? Do you suppose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured and insulted country; that they will not be whispered in her green valleys, and heard from her lofty hills? O, they will be heard there! yes; and they will not be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bound with indigtion, they will say, "We are eight millions; and you treat us thus, as though we were no more to your country than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey!"

I have done my duty. I stand acquitted to my conscience and my country. I have opposed this measure throughout; and I now protest against it as harsh, oppressive, uncalled for, un• just; as establishing an infamous precedent, by retaliating crime against crime; -as tyrannous, cruelly and vindictively tyrannous !

D. O'Connell.

XLV.

CESAR'S PAUSE UPON THE RUBICON.

AN advocate of Caesar's character, speaking of his benevolent

disposition, and of the reluctance with which he entered into the civil war, observes, "How long did he pause upon the brink of the Rubicon!" How came he to the brink of that river? How dared he cross it? Shall private men respect the boundaries of private property, and shall a man pay no respect to the boundaries of his country's rights? How dared he cross that river?-Oh! but he paused upon the brink! He should have perished on the brink, ere he had crossed it! Why did he pause? Why does a man's heart palpitate when he is on the

point of committing an unlawful deed? Why does the very murderer, his victim sleeping before him, and his glaring eye taking measure of the blow, strike wide of the mortal part? Because of conscience! "T was that made Cæsar pause upon the brink of the Rubicon. Compassion!-What compassion? The compassion of an assassin, that feels a momentary shudder as his weapon begins to cut!

Cæsar paused upon the brink of the Rubicon! -What was the Rubicon?-The boundary of Cæsar's province. From what did it separate his province? From his country. Was that country a desert? No: it was cultivated and fertile; rich and populous! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and generosity! Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and chaste! Friendship was its inhabitant! - Love was its inhabitant!-Domestic affection was its inhabitant! - Liberty was its inhabitant! — All bounded by the stream of the Rubicon! What was Cæsar, that stood upon the brink of that stream? —A traitor, bringing war and pestilence into the heart of that country! No wonder that he paused! No wonder if, in his imagination, wrought upon by his conscience, he had beheld blood instead of water; and heard groans instead of murmurs. No wonder if some Gorgon horror had turned him into stone upon the spot. But, no! — he cried, "The die is cast!" He plunged! - he crossed! - and Rome was free no more.

J. S. Knowles.

SWED

XLVI.

GUSTAVUS VASA TO THE DALE CARLIANS.

WEDES! countrymen! behold at last, after a thousand dangers past, your chief, Gustavus, here! Long have I sighed 'mid foreign lands; long have I roamed in foreign lands; at length, 'mid Swedish hearts and hands, I grasp a Swedish spear ! Yet, looking forth, although I see none but the fearless and the free, sad thoughts the sight inspires; for where, I think, on Swedish ground, save where these mountains frown around, can that best heritage be found the freedom of our sires? Yes, Sweden pines beneath the yoke; the galling chain our fathers broke is round our country now! On perjured craft and ruthless

guilt his power a tyrant Dane has built, and Sweden's crown, all blood-bespilt, rests on a foreign brow.

On you your country turns her eyes

on you, on you, for aid relies, scions of noblest stem! The foremost place in rolls of fame, by right your fearless fathers claim; yours is the glory of their name, - 't is yours to equal them. winter reigns, resistless to the shaking

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As rushing down, when

plains, the torrent tears

its way, and all that bars its onward course sweeps to the sea with headlong force, so swept your sires the Dane and Norse;

can ye do less than they?

Rise! reässert your ancient pride, and down the hills a living tide of fiery valor pour. Let but the storm of battle lower, back to his den the foe will cower; - then, then shall Freedom's glorious hour strike for our land once more! What! silentmotionless, ye stand? Gleams not an eye? Moves not a hand? Think ye to fly your fate? Or till some better cause be given, wait ye? Then wait! till, banished, driven, ye fear to meet the face of Heaven;

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- till ye are slaughtered, wait.

But no! your kindling hearts gainsay the thought. Hark! hear that bloodhound's bay! Yon blazing village see! Rise, countrymen! Awake! Defy the haughty Dane! Your battlecry be Freedom! We will do or die! On! Death or victory!

I

XLVII.

NOBILITY OF LABOR.

CALL upon those whom I address to stand up for the nobility of labor. It is Heaven's great ordinance for human improvement. Let not that great ordinance be broken down. What do I say? It is broken down; and it has been broken down for ages. Let it then be built up again; here, if anywhere, on these shores of a new world, of a new civilization. But how, I may be asked, is it broken down? Do not men toil? it may be said. They do indeed toil; but they too generally do it because they must. Many submit to it as in some sort a degrading necessity; and they desire nothing so much on earth as escape from it. They fulfil the great law of labor in the letter, but break it in the spirit; fulfil it with the muscle, but break

it with the mind. To some field of labor, mental or manual, every idler should fasten, as a chosen and coveted theatre of improvement. But so he is not impelled to do, under the teachings of our imperfect civilization. On the contrary, he sits down, folds his hands, and blesses himself in his idleness. This way of thinking is the heritage of the absurd and unjust feudal system under which serfs labored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and feasting. It is time that this opprobrium of toil were done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou? Ashamed of thy dingy work-shop and dusty labor-field; of thy hard hand scarred with service more honorable than that of war; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which mother Nature has embroidered, midst sun and rain, midst fire and steam, her own heraldic honors? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity? It is treason to Nature; it is impiety to Heaven; it is breaking Heaven's great ordinance. TOIL, I repeat toil, either of the brain, of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true manhood, the only true nobility. 0. Dewey.

XLVIII.

SALATHIEL TO TITUS.

SON
ON of Vespasian, I am at this hour a poor man, as I may in

the next be an exile or a slave: I have ties to life as strong as ever were bound round the heart of man. I stand here a suppliant for the life of one whose loss would embitter mine! Yet, not for wealth unlimited, for the safety of my family, for the life of the noble victim that is now standing at the place of torture, dare I abandon, dare I think the impious thought of abandoning the cause of the City of Holiness.

Titus! in the name of that Being, to whom the wisdom of the earth is folly, I adjure you to beware. Jerusalem is sacred. Her crimes have often wrought her misery; often has she been trampled by the armies of the stranger. But she is still the City of the Omnipotent; and never was blow inflicted on her by man, that was not terribly repaid.

The Assyrian came, the mightiest power of the world; he plundered her temple, and led her people into captivity. How

long was it before his empire was a dream, his dynasty extinguished in blood, and an enemy on his throne? The Persian came; from her protector he turned into her oppressor; and his empire was swept away like the dust of the desert! The Syrian smote her; the smiter died in agonies of remorse; and where is his kingdom now? The Egyptian smote her; and who now sits on the throne of the Ptolemies?

Pompey came the invincible, the conqueror of a thousand cities, the light of Rome; the lord of Asia, riding on the very wings of victory. But he profaned her temple; and from that hour he went down, down, like a millstone plunged into the ocean! Blind counsel, rash ambition, womanish fears were upon the great statesman and warrior of Rome. Where does he sleep? What sands were colored with his blood? The universal conqueror died a slave, by the hand of a slave! Crassus came at the head of the legions; he plundered the sacred vessels of the sanctuary. Vengeance followed him, and he was cursed by the curse of God. Where are the bones of the robber and his host? Go, tear them from the jaws of the lion and the wolf of Parthia, their fitting tomb!

You, too, son of Vespasian, may be commissioned for the punishment of a stiff-necked and rebellious people. You may scourge our naked vice by force of arms; and then you may return to your own land exulting in the conquest of the fiercest enemy of Rome. But shall you escape the common fate of the instrument of evil? Shall you see a peaceful old age? Shall a son of yours ever sit upon the throne? Shall not rather some monster of your blood efface the memory of your virtues, and make Rome, in bitterness of soul, curse the Flavian name ? G. Croly.

XLIX.

AN APPEAL TO THE LOYALTY OF SOUTH CAROLINA.

FELLOW-CITIZENS of my native State! Let me not

only admonish you as the first magistrate of our common country not to incur the penalty of its laws, but use the influence that a father would over his children whom he saw rushing to certain ruin. In that paternal language, with that paternal feel

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