battles! Such horrible notions shock every precept of religion, divine or natural, every generous feeling of humanity, and every sentiment of honor. These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. I call upon that right reverend bench, those holy ministers of the gospel, and pious pastors of our church; I conjure them to join in the holy work, and vindicate the religion of their God. I appeal to the wisdom and the law of this learned bench, to defend and support the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops, to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn; upon the learned judges, to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from this pollution. I call upon the honor of your lordships, to reverence the dig nity of your ancestors, and maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my country, to vindicate the national character. I invoke the genius of the Constitution. From the tapestry that adorns these walls, the immortal ancestors of this noble lord frown with indignation at the disgrace of his country. In vain he led your victorious fleets against the boasted armada of Spain; in vain he defended and established the honor, the liberties, the religion, the Protestant religion, of this country, against the arbitrary cruelties of Popery, and the Inquisition, if these more than popish cruelties and inquisitorial practices are let loose among us.-To turn forth into our settlements, among our ancient connections, friends, and relations, the merciless cannibal, thirsting for the blood of man, woman, and child! to send forth the infidel savage,-against whom? against your Protestant brethren; to lay waste their country, to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their race and name, with these horrible hell-hounds of savage war !— hell-hounds, I say, of savage war. [Chatham. MOLOCH AND SATAN BEFORE THE POWERS ONE there was there, whose loud defying tongue Half sprang his eyes, that cast a flamy ray. "This comes," at length burst from the furious chief, "This comes of dastard counsels! Here behold The fruits of wily cunning! the relief Which coward policy would fain unfold To soothe the powers that warred with heaven of old. And lo! our prince, the mighty and the bold, Here, as recovered, Satan fixed his eye Full on the speaker; dark as it was stern; He wrapped his black vest round him gloomily And stood like one whom weightiest thoughts concern. The spear of just revenge, and shrinks, by man defied." Thus ended Moloch, and his burning tongue THE SAME, CONTINUED. "YE powers of hell, I am no coward. I proved this of old. Who led your forces against the armies of Jehovah? Who coped with Ithuriel, and the thunders of the Almighty? Who, when stunned and confused ye lay on the burning lake, who first awoke and collected your scattered powers? Lastly, who led you across the unfathomable abyss to this delightful world, and established that reign here which now totters to its base? How, therefore, dares yon treacherous fiend to cast a stain on Satan's bravery? He, who preys only on the defenseless, who sucks the blood of infants, and delights only in acts of ignoble cruelty and unequal contention! Away with the boaster who never joins in action; but, like a cormorant, hovers over the field, to feed upon the wounded and overwhelm the dying. True bravery is as remote from rashness as from hesitation. Let us counsel coolly, but let us execute our counseled purposes determinately. In power, we have learned by that experiment which lost us heaven, that we are inferior to the thunder-bearer: in subtilty, in subtilty alone, we are his equals. Open war is im Dossible. Thus shall we pierce our conqueror through the race [White. MARULLUS TO THE MOB. WHEREFORE rejoice that Cæsar comes in triumph? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome! And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now call out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague, That needs must light on this ingratitude. [Shakspeare. SPEECH OF RAAB KIUPRILI. HEAR me, Assembled lords and warriors of Illyria, Hear, and avenge me! Twice ten years have I Stood in your presence, honored by the king, Or one false whisper in his sovereign's ear? A bought-bribed wretch, who, being called my son, A recreant ingrate !— What means this clamor? Are these madmen's voices? Or is some knot of riotous slanderers leagued With a black falsehood? Unmanly cruelty, |