5

That fervent energy must spread,

Till despotism's towers be overthrown;
And in their stead,

Liberty stands alone!
Hasten the day, just Heaven!

Accomplish thy design;
And let the blessings thou hast freely given,

Freely on all men shine ;
Till equal rights be equally enjoyed,
And human power for human good employed;
Till law, not man, the sovereign rule sustain,
And peace and virtue undisputed reign.

LESSON CXCI.--SHAKSPEARE.CHARLES SPRAGUR.

Then Shakspeare rose ! -
Across the trembling strings

His daring hand he flings,

And lo! a new creation glows !
5 There clustering round, submissive to his will,
Fate's vassal train his high commands fulfil.

Madness, with his frightful scream,
Vengeance, leaning on his lance,

Avarice, with his blade and beam, 10 Hatred, blasting with a glance,

Remorse, that weeps, and Rage, that roars,
And Jealousy, that dotes, but dooms, and murders, yet

adores.

15

Mirth, his face with sunbeams lit,
Waking Laughter's merry swell,

Arm in arm with fresh-eyed Wit,
That waves his tingling lash, while Folly shakes his bell.

From the feudal tower pale Terror rushing,

Where the prophet bird's wail

Dies along the dull gale,
And the sleeping monarch's blood is gushing.
Despair, that haunts the gurgling stream,
Kissed by the virgin moon's cold beam,
Where some lost maid wild chaplets wreathes,
And swan-like there her own dirge breathes,

20

Then broken-hearted sinks to rest, Beneath the bubbling wave that shrouds her maniac breast.

Young Love, with eye of tender gloom,

Now drooping o'er the hallowed tomb, 5

Where his plighted victims lie,

Where they met, but met to die :-
And now, when crimson buds are sleeping,

Through the dewy arbor peeping,

Where beauty's child, the frowning world forgot, 10

To youth's devoted tale is listening,

Rapture on her dark lash glistening,
While fairies leave their cowslip cells, and guard the hap-

py spot.

Thus rise the phantom throng,

Obedient to their master's song,
15 And lead in willing chain the wondering soul along.

For other worlds war's great one sighed in vain,-
O'er other worlds see Shakspeare rove and reign!
The rapt magician of his own wild lay,

Earth and her tribes his mystic wand obey; 20 Old ocean trembles, thunder cracks the skies,

Air teems with shapes and tell-tale spectres rise :
Night's paltering hags their fearful orgies keep,
And faithless guilt unseals the lip of sleep:

Time yields his trophies up, and death restores 25 The mouldered victims of his voiceless shores.

The fireside legend, and the faded page,
The crime that cursed, the deed that blessed an age,
All, all come forth,—the good to charm and cheer,

To scourge bold vice, and start the generous tear; 30 With pictured folly gazing fools to shame,

And guide young Glory's foot along the path of fame.

LESSON CXCII.-SPEECH OF RIENZI TO THE ROMANS.-Miss

Mitford.
Rienzi. Friends,
I come not here to talk. Ye know too well
The story of our thraldom. We are slaves !

The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 5 A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam

Falls on a slave : not such as, swept along

By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads
To crimson glory and undying fame,
But base, ignoble slaves,-slaves to a horde

Of petty tyrants, feudal despots ; lords, 5 Rich in some dozen paltry villages,

Strong in some hundred spearmen-only great
In that strange spell,-a name. Each hour, dark fraud,
Or open rapine, or protected murder,

Cries out against them. But this very day,
10 An honest man, my neighbor, there he stands,

Was struck,-struck like a dog, by one who wore
The badge of Ursini; because, forsooth,
He tossed not high his ready cap in air,

Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts,
15 At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men,

And suffer such dishonor? Men, and wash not
The stain away in blood ? Such shames are common.
I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye,

I had a brother once, a gracious boy,
20 Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope,

Of sweet and quiet joy," there was the look
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give
To the beloved disciple.” How I loved

That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years, 25 Brother, at once, and son ! " He left my side,

A summer bloom on his fair cheeks,-a smile
Parting his innocent lips.” In one short hour
The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw

The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 30 For vengeance !-Rouse, ye Romans!—Rouse, ye slaves Have

ye

brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl To see them die. Have ye fair daughters ? Look To see them live, torn from your arms, distained,

Dishonored ; and, if ye dare call for justice,
35 Be answered by the lash. Yet, this is Rome,

That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne
Of beauty ruled the world! Yet, we are Romans.
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman

Was greater than a king! And once again, 40 Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread

Of either Brutus! once again I swear,
The eternal city shall be free! her sons
Shall walk with princes.

LESSON CXCIII. SAME SUBJECT.- -Thomas Moore. “ Romans ! look round you,-on this sacred place

There ince stood shrines, and gods, and godlike men, What see you now.? what solitary trace

Is left of all that made Rome's glory then ? 5 The shrines are sunk, the sacred mount bereft

Even of its name,-and nothing now remains
But the deep memory of that glory, left

To whet our pangs and aggravate our chains !
But shall this be ?-our sun and sky the same,
10 Treading the very soil our fathers trod,
What withering curse hath fallen on soul and frame,

What visitation hath there come from God,
To blast our strength, and rot us into slaves,

Here, on our great forefathers' glorious graves ? 15 It cannot be,-rise up, ye mighty dead,

If we, the living, are too weak to crush
These tyrant priests, that o'er your empire tread,

Till all but Romans at Rome's tameness blush !

Happy Palmyra ! in thy desert domes,
20 Where only date-trees sigh, and serpents hiss ;
And thou, whose pillars are but silent homes

For the stork's brood, superb Persepolis !
Thrice happy both, that your extinguished race

Have left no embers,-no half-living trace,25 No slaves, to crawl around the once proud spot,

Till past renown in present shame's forgot;
While Rome, the queen of all, whose very wrecks,

If lone and lifeless through a desert hurled,

Would wear more true magnificence than decks
30 The assembled thrones of all the existing world, -
Rome, Rome alone, is haunted, stained, and cursed,

Through every spot her princely Tiber laves,
By living human things,-the deadliest, worst,

That earth engenders,—tyrants and their slaves ! 35 And we,-oh! shame,—we, who have pondered o'er

The patriot's lesson, and the poet's lay;
Have mounted up the streams of ancient lore,

Tracking our country's glories all the way,
Even we have tamely, basely kissed the ground,
40 Before that Papal Power, that Ghost of Her,
The World's Imperial Mistress, sitting, crowned

And ghastly, on her mouldering sepulchre !

But this is past,—too long have lordly priests

And priestly lords led us, with all our pride
Withering about us,-like devoted beasts,

Dragged to the shrine, with faded garlands tied. 5 "Tis o'er,—the dawn of our deliverance breaks !

Up from his sleep of centuries awakes
The Genius of the Old Republic, free
As first he stood, in chainless majesty,

And sends his voice through ages yet to come,
10 Proclaiming Rome, Rome, Rome, Éternal Rome!”

LESSON cxciv.-GUSTAVUS VASA TO THE SWEDES.—Brooke
Are ye not marked, ye men of Dalecarlia,
Are ye not marked by all the circling world,
As the last stake? What but liberty,
Through the famed course of thirteen hundred

years, 5 Aloof hath held invasion from

your hills,
And sanctified their name? And will

ye,
will

ye
Shrink from the hopes of the expecting world,
Bid your high honors stoop to foreign insult,

And in one hour give up to infamy
10 The harvest of a thousand years of glory?

Die all first!
Yes, die by piecemeal !
Leave not a limb o'er which a Dane can triumph!

Now from my soul Ijoy, I joy my friends, 15 To see ye feared ; to see that even your foes

Do justice to your valor !—There they are,
The powers of kingdoms, summed in yonder host,
Yet kept aloof, yet trembling to assail ye,

And oh! when † look around and see you here, 20 Of number short, but prevalent in virtue,

My heart swells high, and burns for the encounter.
True courage but from opposition grows;
And what are fifty, what a thousand slaves,

Matched to the virtue of a single arm
25 That strikes for liberty ? that strikes to save

His fields from fire, his infants from the sword,
And his large honors from eternal infamy?
What doubt we then? Shall we shall we stand here !

Let us on!
30 Firm are our hearts, and nervous are our arms,