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the other those who administer the justice of my country. Could I do this, I would point them to these sad objects. I would entreat them by the agonies of bereaved fondness, to listen to the widow's heartfelt groans; to mark the orphan's sighs and tears — and having done this, I would uncover the breathless corpse of Hamilton — I would lift from his gaping wound his bloody mantle — I would hold it up to heaven before them, and I would ask, in the name of God, I would ask, whether at the sight of it they telt no compunction. Ye who who have hearts of pity - ye who have experienced the an. guish of dissolving friendship — who have wept, and still weep over the mouldering ruins of departed kindred, ye can enter into this reflection.

4. O thou disconsolate widow ! robbed, so cruelly robbed, and in so short a time, both of a husband and a son! what must be the plenitude of thy sufferings! Could we approach thee, gladly would we drop the tear of sympathy, and pour into thy bleeding bosom the balm of consolation, But how could we comfort her whom God hath not comforted! To his throne, let us lift up our voice and weep. O God! if thou art still the widow's husband, and the father of the fatherless — if, in the fullness of thy goodness, there be yet mercies in store for miserable inortals, pity, I pity this afflicted mother, and grant that her hapless orphans may find a friend, a benefactor, a father in Thee !




1. To him, who, in the love of nature holds

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours,


She has a voice of gladness, and a smile,
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his dark musings with a mild,
And gentle sympathy, that steals away

Their sharpness, ere he is aware. 2.

When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour, comes like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;
Go forth into the open sky, and list
To nature's teaching, while, from all around,

Comes a still voice: 3.

“ Yet a few days, and thee,
The all-beholding sun shall see no more,
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go,
To mix forever with the elements,
To be a brother to th' insensible rock,
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain

Turns with his share, and treads upon. 4.

“ The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold.
Yet not, to thy eternal resting place,
Shalt thou retire, alone - nor could'st thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant v orld, with kings,

The powerful of the earth, the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past

All in one mighty sepulchre. 5.

The hills,
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun; the vales,
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods; rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That inake the meadow green ; and, poured round all,
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man.

The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,

Through the still lapse of ages. 6.

6 All that tread
The globe, are but a handful, to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or, lose thyself in the continuous woods,
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save its own dashings — yet the dead are there;
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down

In their last sleep: the dead reign there alone. 7. “So shalt thou rest; and what, if thou shalt fall,

Unnoticed by the living; and no friend
Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh,
When thou art gone; the solemn brood of care
Plod on; and each one, as before, will chase
His favorite phantom; yet, all these shall leave

Their mirth, and their enjoyments, and shall come,
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,
The youth, in life's green spring, and he, who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
The bowed with age, the infant, in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off —
Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side,

By those who, in their turn, shall follow them.
8. “So live, that when thy summons comes, to join

The innumerable caravan that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber, in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams!

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1. Thou art fallen, truest of nations! Thou art thrust dowu under thine own blow! not the weapon of a foreign enemy, which has dug thy grave; not the cannon of the many nations, brought up against thee they have tottered back at thy love to thy Fatherland ! not the Muscovites, who crawled over the Karpathites, have compelled thee to lay down thine arms. 0 no! sold, thou wast, dear Fatherland. Thy sentence of death, beloved Fatherland, was written by him, whose love to his country I never questioned for a single moment. In the bold Alight of my thoughts, I would rather have doubted the existence of a good man, than I should have thought he could have become the traitor to his Fatherland.

2. And thou hast been betrayed by him, in whose hands a few days ago I laid the government of our country, sworn to defend thee with the last drop of his blood. He became a traitor to his country because the color of gold was dearer to him than that of blood, which was shed for the independence of the Fatherland. The profane metal had in his eyes more value than the Holy God of his land, who forsook him, when he entered into a covenant with the associates of the devil!

3. Magyars! my dear fellow-sons of the same country! Do not accuse me, because I was compelled to cast my eye on this man, and to vacate my place for him. I was compelled to do so, because the people confided in him, because the army loved him, and he had already attained to a position, in which he could have proved his fidelity! and yet the man abused the confidence of the nation, and in return for the love of his nation, treated them with contempt. Curse him, people of the Magyars! curse the heart which did not dry up when it attempted to nourish him with the moisture of life!

4. I love thee, Europe's truest nation! as I love the freedom for which thou fought so bravely! The God of liberty will never blot you out from His memory. Be blessed forever more! My principles were those of Washington, though my deeds were not those of William Tell! I wished for a free nation

- free as God only can create man—and thou art dead, because thy winter has arrived; but this will not last so long as thy fellow-sufferer, languishing under the icy sky of Siberia. No, fifteen nations have dug thy grave, the thousands of the sixteenth will arrive to save thee!

5. Be faithful as hitherto, keep to the holy sentences of the Bible, pray for thy liberation, and then chant thy national hymns


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