ページの画像
PDF
ePub

They tell us, sir, that we are weak, - unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week I or the next year! | Will it be when we are totally disarmed; and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house,? Shall we gather strength by irresolution, and inac'tion? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, | and hugging the delusive phantom of hope until our enemies shall have bound us hand, and foot? | Sir, | we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. |

"Three millions of people, | 3armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible under any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone: 'there is a just God, who presides over the des tinies of nations; and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigi lant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission, and slavery. Our chains are forged their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable; and let it come! I repeat it, sir let it come !! |

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. | Gentlemen may cry peace! peace! | but there is, no peace. | The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north, will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field.! | Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains, and sla'very? I know not what course others may take; but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me death! |

Is

HYMN TO THE DEITY ON A REVIEW OF THE SEASONS

(THOMSON.)

These, as they change, | Almighty Father, these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of thee. | Forth in the pleasing Spring |
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love. I
Wide flush the fields'; the soft'ning air is balm ; ¦
Echo the mountains round; | the forest smiles. ; |
And ev'ry sense', and ev'ry heart is joy. |

Then comes thy glory in the Summer months, |
With light, and heat refulgent. Then thy sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year; |
And oft thy voice in dreadful thun der, speaks; |
And oft at dawn', deep noon', or falling eve', |
¡
By brooks, and groves, in hollow-whisp'ring gales. |
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd, I
And spreads a common feast for all that live. I
In Winter, awful thou! with clouds, and storms
Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd', }
Majestic darkness! | on the whirlwind's wing, |
Riding sublime, thou bidst the world adore'; ¦
And humblest Nature with thy northern blast. |
Mysterious round! | what skill, what force divine,
Deep felt, in these, appear.! a simple train,
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art,
Such beauty, and beneficence combin'd: |
Shade, unperceiv'd, so soft'ning into shade', |
And all so forming an harmonious whole', |
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still. |

But, wand'ring oft, with brute unconscious gaze,
Man marks not thee, marks not the mighty hand, i
That, ever busy, wheels the silent" spheres, |

• Kind art; not kine dart.

Silent; not silunt.

Works in the secret deep', | shoots, steaming, thence,
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the spring,
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day, |
Feeds ev'ry crea'ture, hurls the tempest forth;|
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves,
With transport, touches all the springs of life. |

Nature, attend! | join ev'ry living soul, |
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky', |
In adoration, join, and ardent raise
One general song! To him, ye vocal gales, |
Breathe soft; whose spirit in your fresh ness breathes:]
O talk of him in solitary glooms! |

Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine |
Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. |
And ye whose bolder note is heard afar', |

Who shake the astonish'd world, lift high to heaven
The impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. |

His praise, ye brooks', attune, ye trembling rills, |
And let me catch it as I muse along.

Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound; |
Ye softer floods that lead the humid maze
Along the vale, and thou, majestic main', |
A secret world of wonders in thyself, |

Sound his stupendous praise, whose greater voice, ¡
Or bids you roar', or bids your roarings fall. |

Soft roll your incense, herbs,, and fruits', and flow'rs',
In mingled clouds to him whose sun exalts'; |
Whose breath perfumes you; and whose pencil
paints. I

Ye forests, bend; ye harvests, wave to him;|
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart', I
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.. |

a Dé-réct'. Ar'dent; not ardunt. gious-saw.

Religious awe; not reli

d Brooks attune; not brooks'sur-tune.

Ye that keep watch in heav'n', | as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams.,
Ye constellations, while your angels strike, |
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. ¡
Great source of day! best image here below,
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
From world to world, the vital ocean round, Į
On Nature write with ev'ry beam, his praise. |

Ye thunders, roll'; | be hush'd the prostrate world, |
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. I
Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye mossy rocks,
Retain the sound; the broad responsive low,
Ye valleys, raise for the Great Shepherd reigns. ; |
And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come. |
Ye woodlands," all, awake! | a boundless song
Burst from the groves; and, when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, |
Sweetest of birds, | sweet Philomela, | charm
The listening shades, and teach the night his praise. Į
Ye chief, for whom the whole crea'tion smiles, |
At once the head, the heart', the tongue of all, |
Crown' the great hymn. In swarming cities vast,
Assembled men, to the deep organ, join
The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At solemn pauses, through the swelling bass; |
And, as each mingling flame increases each,!
In one united ardor, rise to heaven. |
Or, if you rather choose the rural shade,
And find a fane in ev'ry sacred grove, |
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, |
Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll. I

For me, when I forget the darling theme, I
Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray
Russets the plain', inspiring autumn gleams', |
* Wůd'ândź; not wood'luns.

1

Deep organ; not dee-por gan

'Or winter rises in the black'ning east, |

'Be my tongue mute', | my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat! |

Should fate command me to the farthest

verge

Of the green earth'," | to distant barb'rous climes' |
Rivers unknown to song, where first the sun
Gilds Indian moun'tains, or his setting beam
Flames on the Atlantic isles', 't is nought to me, |
1
Since God is ever present, ever felt, |

In the void waste as in the city full; |

And where he vital breathes, there must be joy. |

[ocr errors]

When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come, |
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, |
I cheerful will obey; there, with new pow'rs |
Will rising wonders sing: I cannot go |
Where Universal Love smiles not around, |
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns. ; |
From seeming evil still educing good, |
And better thence again, and better still', |
In infinite progression. But I lose

Myself in Hime, in Light ineffable! |

Come then, expressive Silence, muse His praise. |

THE MARINER'S DREAM.

(DIMOND.)

In slumbers of midnight, the sailor-boy lay; |
His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; `
But, watch-worn, and weary, his cares flew away'; |
And visions of happiness danc'd o'er his mind. |

He dream'd of his home, of his dear native bowers, |
And pleasures that waited on life's' merry morn、; |
While Memory stood sidewise, half cover'd with flowers,
And restor❜d ev'ry rose', | but secreted its thorn. |

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]
« 前へ次へ »