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will behold him with sympathy and respect, and his persecutors with shame and abhorrence; they will feel too, that what is then his situation, may to-morrow

be their own--but their first tear will be shed for him, 20 and the second only for themselves. Their hearts will

melt in his acquittal; they will convey him kindly and fondly to their shore; and he will return in triumph to his country; to the threshold of his sacred home, and to

the weeping welcome of his delighted family. He will 25 find that the darkness of a dreary and a lingering night

hath at length passed away, and that joy cometh in the morning.-No, my lords, I have no fear for the ultimate safety of my client. Even in these very acts of brutal

violence that have been committed against him, do I 30 hail the flattering hope of final advantage to him—and

not only of final advantage to him, but of better days and more prosperous fortune for this afflicted countrythat country of which I have so often abandoned all hope,

and which I have been so often determined to quit for35 ever.

I have repented— I have staid—and I am at once rebuked and rewarded by the happier hopes that I now entertain. In the anxious sympathy of the public-in

the anxious sympathy of my learned brethren, do I catch 40 the happy presage of a brighter fate for Ireland. They

see, that within these sacred walls, the cause of liberty
and of man may be pleaded with boldness and heard
with favor. I am satisfied they will never forget the

great trust, of which they alone are now the remaining 45 depositaries. While they continue to cultivate a sound

philosophy-a mild and tolerating Christianity--and to
make both the sources of a just and liberal, and consti-
tutional jurisprudence, I see every thing for us to hope;

into their hands, therefore, with the most affectionate 50 confidence in their virtue, do I commit these precious

hopes. Even I may live long enough yet to see the
approaching completion, if not the perfect accomplish-
ment of them. Pleased shall I then resign the scene to

fitter actors—pleased shall I lay down my wearied head 55 to rest, and say, “ Lord, now lettest thou thy servant de

part in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have
seen thy salvation.”


Taking of Warsaw.—CAMPBELL. 1 When leagued Oppression poured to northern wars

Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussars, Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn; Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,

Presaging wrath to Poland—and to man! 2 Warsaw's last champion, from her height surveyed,

Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid, -
(©) Oh! Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save;
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?
Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains,
Rise, fellow men! our country yet remains !
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high,

And swear for her to live !-with her to die!
3 (.) He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed

His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed!
Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;
Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly,
Revenge, or death,—the watchword and reply;
(<) Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm!

4 -) In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!

From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew:
Oh! bloodiest picture in the book of Time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her wo!
Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear,
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career!-
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,
And Freedom shrieked-as Kosciusko fell.

5 The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there,

Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air-
On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,
His blood-dyed waters murm'ring far below;

The storm prevails, the ramparts yield away,
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay;
Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall,
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call!
Earth shook-red meteors flashed along the sky,

And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry! 6 Departed spirits of the mighty dead!

Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled!
Friends of the world! restore your swords to man,
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van!
Yet for Samartia's tears of blood atone,
And make her arm puissant as your own!
Oh! once again to Freedom's cause return
The patriot Tell—the Bruce of Bannockburn!

Exercise 107.

Lord Chatham.-BUTLER Of those, by whom Lord North was preceded, none, probably, except Lord Chatham, will be remembered by posterity; but the nature of the eloquence of

this extraordinary man, it is extremely difficult to de5 scribe.

No person in his external appearance was ever more bountifully gifted by nature for an orator. In his look and his gesture, grace and dignity were combined, but

dignity presided; the "terrors of his beak, the light10 nings of his eye,” were insufferable. His voice was both full

and clear; his lowest whisper was distinctly heard, his middle tones were sweet, rich, and beautifully varied; when he elevated his voice to its highest pitch, the

house was completely filled with the volume of the 15 sound. The effect was awful, except when he wished

to cheer or animate; he then had spirit-stirring notes, which were perfectly irresistible. He frequently rose, on a sudden, from a very low to a very high key, but it

seemed to be without effort. His diction was remark20 ably simple, but words were never chosen with greater

care; he mentioned to a friend that he had perused some of Dr. Barrow's Sermons so often as to know them by heart.

His sentiments too, were apparently simple; but sen25 timents were never adopted or uttered with greater skill;

he was often familiar and even playful, but it was the familiarity and playfulness of condescension -- the lion that dandled with the kid. The terrible, however, was

his peculiar power. Then the whole house sunk before 30 him.-Still he was dignified; and wonderful as was his

eloquence, it was attended with this most important effect, that it impressed every hearer with a conviction, that there was something in him even finer than his

words; that the man was infinitely greater than the or35 ator. No impression of this kind was made by the eloquence of his son, or his son's antagonist.

Still, with the great man,- for great he certainly was,-manner did much. One of the fairest specimens which we possess of his lordship’s oratory, is his speech,

in 1776, for the repeal of the stamp act. 40 Most, perhaps, who read the report of this speech, in

Almon's Register, will wonder at the effect, which it is known to have produced on the hearers; yet the report is tolerably exact, and exhibits, although faintly, its lead

ing features. But they should have seen the look of in45 effable contempt, with which he surveyed the late Mr.

Grenville, who sat within one of him, and should have heard him say with that look,-"As to the late ministry,-every capital measure they have taken, has been entirely wrong

They should also have beheld him, 50 when addressing himself to Mr. Grenville's successors,

he said, “As to the present gentlemen, — those, at least, whom I have in my eye,”—(looking at the bench on which Mr. Conway sat,) -" I have no objection; I

have never been made a sacrifice by any of them.55 Some of them have done me the honour to ask my poor

opinion, before they would engage to repeal the act:they will do me the justice to own, I did advise them to engage to do it, but notwithstanding—(for I love to be

explicit,)—I cannot give them my confidence. Pardon 60 me, gentlemen,”—(bowing to them,) — confidence is a

plant of slow growth. Those, who remember the air of condescending protection, with which the bow was made, and the look given, when he spoke these words,

will recollect how much they themselves, at the moment, 65 were both delighted and awed, and what they them

selves then conceived of the immeasurable superiority of the orator over every human being that surrounded

him. In the passages which we have cited, there is 70 nothing which an ordinary speaker might not have said;

it was the manner, and the manner only, which produced the effect.


Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt.-BUTLER. On his first separation from the ministry, Mr. Fox assumed the character of a whig.

Almost the whole of his political life was spent in op, position to his majesty's ministers. In vehemence and 5 power of argument he resembled Demosthenes; but

there the resemblance ended. He possessed a strain of ridicule and wit, which nature denied to the Athenian; and it was the more powerful, as it always appeared to

be blended with argument, and to result from it. To 10 the perfect composition which so eminently distinguish

es the speeches of Demosthenes, he had no pretence. He was heedless of method:-having the complete command of good words, he never sought for better; if

those, which occurred, expressed his meaning clearly 15 and forcibly, he paid little attention to their arrangement or harmony.

The moment of his grandeur was, when, after he had stated the argument of his adversary, with much greater

strength than his adversary had done, and with much 20 greater than any of his hearers thought possible, he

seized it with the strength of a giant, and tore and trampled on it to destruction, If, at this moment, he had possessed the power of the Athenian over the pas

sions or the imaginations of his hearers, he might have 25 disposed of the house at his pleasure; but this was denied to him; and, on this account,

his speeches fell very short of the effect, which otherwise they must have produced.

It is difficult to decide on the comparative merit of 30 him and Mr. Pitt; the latter had not the vehement réasoning, or argumentative ridicule, of Mr. Fox: but he

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