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ready by their votes to commit the sin of base ingratitude.
I hope there is yet a redeeming spirit in this House, that · we shall not be guilty of so great an outrage. If we con
cur in this resolution, we shall take upon ourselves an awful responsibility; ay ! a responsibility for which our constituents will call us to strict account.
What, let me ask, shall we answer in excuse for ourselves, when we return to an inquisitive and watchful people? What can we charge to Mr Clinton? Of what has he been guilty, that he should now be singled out as an object of State persecution ? Will some friend of this resolution be kind enough to inform me? Sir, I challenge inquiry. I demand from the supporters of this high-handed measure, that they lay their hands upon their hearts, and answer me truly, for what cause this man is to be removed.
The Senate, it appears, has been actuated by some cruel and malignant passion, unaccounted for, and have made a rush upon this House, and taken us by surprise. The resolution, Sir, may pass; but if it does, my word for it, we are disgraced in the judgment and good sense of an injured and insulted community. Whatever be the fate of this resolution, let it be remembered, and remember I have told you, that De Witt Clinton has acquired a reputation not to be destroyed by the pitiful malice of a few leading par tisans of the day.
When the contemptible party strifes of the present crisis shall have passed by, and the political bargainers and jugglers, who now hang round this capitol for subsistence, shall be overwhelmed and forgotten in their own insignificance; when the gentle breeze shall pass over the tomb of that great man, carrying with it the just tribute of honour and praise, which is now withheld; the pen of the future historian, in better days and in better times, will do him justice, and erect to his memory a proud monument of fame, as imperishable as the splendid works, which owe their origin to his genius and perseverance.
THE CURTIUS AND THE RUSSELL.
In the proud Forum's central space
Earth yawned—a gulf profound !
Rome's bravest gathered round;
Mid plaudits deep-not loud,
In all the circling crowd :-
Was chivalrous and bold;
Our history can unfold ;
When evil tongues were rife;
Assailed his fame and life :-
Her gentle courage gave;
Could she expect or crave;
In virtue's noblest guise :
In night's o'erclouded skies:
Southampton's daughter, Russell's wife ! - Fearless in love, in goodness great,
She rose-her lord to aid ;
And well might he entrust his fate
To one so undismayed,
Spent on one fearful deed !
More lasting worth can plead;
Thy memory aye shall live ; :
A name more glorious give :-
Far, far beyond the Roman's fame?
FREEDOM OF THE ANCIENT ISRAELITES.-Croly.
The state of man in the most unfettered republics of the ancient world was slavery, compared with the magnanimous and secure establishment of the Jewish commonwealth. During the three hundred golden years from Moses to Samuel,-before, for our sins, we were given over to the madness of innovation, and the demand of an earthly diadem,the Jew was free, in the loftiest sense of freedom; free to do all good ; 'restricted only from evil; every man pursuing the unobstructed course pointed out by his genius or his fortune; every man protected by laws inviolable, or whose violation was instantly visited with punishment, by the Eternal Sovereign alike of ruler and people.
Freedom ! twin-sister of Virtue, thou brightest of all the spirits that descended in the train of Religion from the throne of God; thou, that leadest up man again to the early glories of his being; angel, from the circle of whose presence happiness spreads like the sun-light over the darkness of the land ! at the waving of whose sceptre, knowledge, and peace, and fortitude, and wisdom, stoop upon the wing; at the voice of whose trumpet the more than grave is broken, and slavery gives up her dead; when shall I see thy coming? When shall I hear thy summons upon the
mountains of my country, and rejoice in the regeneration and glory of the sons of Judah ?
I have traversed nations; and as I set my foot upon their boundary, I have said, Freedom is not here! I saw the naked hill, the morass steaming with death, the field covered with weedy fallow, the silky thicket encumbering the land ; -I saw the still more infallible signs, the downcast visage, the form degraded at once by loathsome indolence and desperate poverty ; the peasant cheerless and feeble in his field, the wolfish robber, the population of the cities crowded into huts and cells, with pestilence for their fellow ;-I saw the contumely of man to man, the furious vindictiveness of popular rage; and I pronounced at the moment, This people is not free.
In the republics of heathen antiquity, the helot, the client sold for the extortion of the patron, and the born bondsman lingering out life in thankless toil, at once put to flight all conceptions of freedom. In the midst of altars fuming to liberty, of harangues glowing with the most pompous protestations of scorn for servitude, of crowds inflated with the presumption that they disdained a master, the eye was insulted with the perpetual chain. The temple of Liberty was built upon the dungeon.-Rome came, and unconsciously, avenged the insulted name of freedom ; the master and the slave were bowed together; the dungeon was made the common dwelling of all.
SONG OF THE PILGRIM S.
Leave behind our native shore,
The deep may dash, the winds may blow,
Still, as long as life shall last,
For we would rather never be,
Blasts of heaven, onward sweep !
O, see what wonders meet our eyes !
Here, at length, our feet shall rest,
As long as yonder firs shall spread
Shall those cliffs and mountains be
THE SURVIVING WORTHIES OF THE REVOLUTION. Extract from an Oration delivered at Cambridge, July 4, 1826, by
Let us not forget, on the return of this eventful day, the men, who, when the conflict of counsel was over, stood forward in that of arms. Yet let me not, by faintly endeavouring to sketch, do deep injustice to the story of their exploits. The efforts of a life would scarce suffice to paint out this picture, in all its astonishing incidents, in all its mingled colours of sublimity and wo, of agony and triumph.
But the age of commemoration is at hand. The voice of our fathers' blood begins to cry to us, from beneath the soil which it moistened. Time is bringing forward, in their proper relief, the men and the deeds of that high