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3. Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs; but I see clearly through this day's business. You and I indeed may rue it. We may not live to see the time, when this declaration shall be made good. We may die; die colonists; die slaves; die, it may be, ignominiously, and on the scaffold. it so. If it shall be the pleasure of Heaven, that my country shall require the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready at the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may.
4. But, whatever may be our fate, be assured that this dec laration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost blood; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the brightness of the future as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, our children will honor it. They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return, they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy.
5. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment approves this
whole heart is in it. All that I am, all that I have, and all that I hope for in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it: and I leave off as I be gan; sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I am for the declaration : it is my living sentiment; and, by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment,- Independence now and Independence forever!
DREAM OF DARKNESS.
1. I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
and went — and came, and brought no day;
Of the volcanoes and their mountain torch. 2. A fearful hope was all the world contained:
Forests were set on fire — but, hour by hour,
The pall of a past world; and then again,
Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food. 3. And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again; a meal was bought
- all save one,
Which answered not with a caress - he died.
Of an enormous city did survive,
Which was a mockery; then they lifted
5. The rivers, lakes, and ocean, all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
SPEECH IN DEFENSE OF ORR.
1. “Alas! nor wife, nor children more shall he behold, nor friends, nor sacred home!" No seraph mercy unbars his dungeon and leads him forth to light and life; but the minister of death hurries him to the scene of suffering and of shame; where, unmoved by the hostile array of artillery and armed men collected together, to secure, or to insult, or to disturb him, he dies with a solemn declaration of his innocence, and utters his last breath in a prayer for the liberty of his country.
2. Let me now ask you, if any of you had addressed the public ear upon so foul and monstrous a subject, in what language would you have conveyed the feelings of horror and indignation? Would you have stooped to the meanness of qual. ified complaint? Would you have been mean enough —- But
I entreat your forgiveness, I do not think meanly of you ; had I thought so meanly of you, I could not suffer my mind to commune with you as it has done.
3. Had I thought you that base and vile instrument, attuned by hope and by fear into discord and falsehood, from whose vulgar string no groan of suffering could vibrate, no voice of integrity or honor could speak, let me honestly tell you, I should have scorned to string my hand across it; I should have left it to a fitter minstrel. If I do not, therefore, grossly err in my opinion of you, I could use no language upon such a subject as this, that must not lag behind the rapidity of your feelings, and that would not disgrace those feelings if it attempted to describe them.
4. Upright and honest jurors, find a civil and obliging verdict against the printer! And when you have done so, march through the ranks of your fellow-citizens to your own homes, and bear their look as you pass along; retire to the bosom of your families and your children, and, when you are presiding over the morality of the parental board, tell those infants, who are to be the future men of Ireland, the history of this day. Form their young minds by your precepts, and confirm those precepts by your own example; teach them how discreetly allegiance may be perjured on the table, or loyalty be forsworn in the jurybox; and when you have done so, tell them the story of Orr; tell them of his captivity, of his children, of his crime, of his hopes, of his disappointments, of his courage, and of his death; and when you find your little hearers hanging upon your lips,