ページの画像
PDF
ePub

ether and diviner air, are untried fields for exalted triumphs, more truly worthy the American name, than any snatched from rivers of blood. War is known as the Last Reason of Kings. Let it be no reason of our Republic. Let us renounce and throw off, for ever, the yoke of a tyranny more oppressive than any in the annals of the world. As those standing on the mountain-top first discern the coming beams of morning, let us, from the vantage-ground of liberal institutions, first recognize the ascending sun of a new era!

It is a beautiful picture in Grecian story, that there was, at least, one spot, the small island of Delos, dedicated to the gods, and kept at all times sacred from war, where the citizens of hostile countries met, and united in a common worship. So let us dedicate our broad country! The temple of honor shall be surrounded by the temple of concord, so that the former can be entered only through the portals of the latter; the horn of abundance shall overflow at its gates; the angel of religion shall be the guide over its steps of flashing adamant: while within JUSTICE, returned to the earth, from her long exile in the skies, shall rear her serene and majestic front. And the future chiefs of the republic, destined to uphold the glories of a new era, unspotted by human blood, shall be "the first in peace, and the first in the hearts of their country

men."

But while we seek these blissful glories for ourselves, let us strive to extend them to other lands. Let the bugles sound the Truce of God to the whole world, for ever! Let the selfish boast of the Spartan woman become the grand chorus of mankind, that they have never seen the smoke of an enemy's camp. Let the iron belt of martial music which now encompasses the earth, be exchanged for the golden cestus of Peace, clothing all with celestial beauty. History dwells with fondness on the reverent homage, that was bestowed, by massacring soldiers, on the spot occupied by the sepulcher of the Lord. Vain man! to restrain his regard to a few feet of sacred mold! The whole earth is the sepulcher of the Lord; nor can any righteous man profane any part thereof. Let us recognize this truth; and now, on this Sabbath of our country, lay a new stone in the grand temple of universal peace, whose dome shall be as lofty as the firmament of heaven, as broad and comprehensive as the earth itself.

Ex. CLXXXVIIL-RIENZI TO THE ROMANS

MOORE.

ROMANS! look round you-on this sacred place
There once stood shrines, and gods, and godlike men-
What see you now? what solitary trace

Is left of all that made Rome's glory then?
The shrines are stink; 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,
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?
It can not 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,

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—
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

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!
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,
Before that Papal power, that ghost of her,

The world's imperial mistress-sitting, crowned
And ghastly, on her moldering sepulcher!
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.
'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,
Proclaiming Rome, Rome, Rome, Eternal Rome!

Ex. CLXXXIX.-DESTINY OF OUR COUNTRY.

JOSEPH STORY.

We

We stand the latest, and, if we fail, probably the last experiment of self-government by the people. We have begun it under circumstances of the most auspicious nature. are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has never been checked by the oppressions of tyranny. Our constitutions have never been enfeebled by the vices or luxuries of the old world. Such as we are, we have been from the beginning, -simple, hardy, intelligent, accustomed to self-government and self-respect. The Atlantic rolls between us and any formidable foe. Within our own territory, stretching through many degrees of latitude and longitude, we have the choice of many products, and many means of independence. The government is mild. The press is free. Religion is free. Knowledge reaches, or may reach, every home. What fairer prospect of success could be presented? What means more adequate to accomplish the sublime end? What more is necessary than for the people to preserve what they themselves have created?

Already has the age caught the spirit of our institutions. It has already ascended the Andes, and snuffed the breezes of both oceans. It has infused itself into the life-blood of Europe, and warmed the sunny plains of France, and the low sands of Holland. It has touched the philosophy of Germany and the north; and, moving onward to the south, has opened to Greece the lessons of her better days.

Can it be that America, under such circumstances, can

betray herself? That she is to be added to the catalogue of republics, the inscription upon whose ruins is, "They were, but they are not ?" Forbid it, my countrymen! forbid it, Heaven!

I call upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors, by the dear ashes which repose in this precious soil, by all you are and all you hope to be,-resist every object of disunion; resist every encroachment upon your liberties; resist every attempt to fetter your consciences, or smother your public schools, or extinguish your system of public in

struction.

I call upon you, mothers, by that which never fails in woman -the love of your offspring; teach them, as they climb your knees, or lean on your bosoms, the blessings of liberty. Swear them at the altar, as with their baptismal vows, to be true to their country, and never to forget or forsake her.

I call upon you, young men, to remember whose sons you are--whose inheritance you possess. Life can never be too short, which brings nothing but disgrace and oppression. Death never comes too soon, if necessary in the defence of the liberties of your country.

I call upon you, old men, for your counsels, and your prayers, and your benedictions. May not your gray hairs go down in sorrow to the grave with the recollection that you have lived in vain! May not your last sun sink in the west upon a nation of slaves!

No! I read in the destiny of my country far better hopes, far brighter visions. We who are now assembled here must soon be gathered to the congregation of other days. The time of our departure is at hand, to make way for our children upon the theater of life. May God speed them and theirs! May he who, at the distance of another century, shall stand here to celebrate this day, still look around upon a free, happy, and virtuous people! May he have reason to exult as we do! May he, with all the enthusiasm of truth as well as poetry, exclaim that here is still his country!

Ex. CXC.-DUTIES OF AMERICANS.

G. S. HILLARD.

WE may betray the trust reposed in us-we may most miserably defeat the fond hopes entertained of us. We may

become the scorn of tyrants and the jest of slaves. From our fate, oppression may assume a bolder front of insolence, and its victims sink into a darker despair.

In that event, how unspeakable will be our disgrace! with what weight of mountains will the infamy lie upon our souls ! The gulf of our ruin will be as deep as the elevation we might have attained is high. How wilt thou fall from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! Our beloved country with ashes for beauty; the golden cord of our union broken; its scattered fragments presenting every form of misrule, from the wildest anarchy to the most ruthless despotism; our "soil drenched with fraternal blood;" the life of man stripped of its grace and dignity; the prizes of honor gone, and virtue divorced from half its encouragements and supports;-these are gloomy pictures, which I would not invite your imaginations to dwell upon, but only to glance at, for the sake of the warning lessons we may draw from them.

Remember that we can have none of those consolations which sustain the patriot who mourns over the undeserved misfortunes of his country. Our Rome can not fall, and we be innocent. No conqueror will chain us to the car of his triumph; no countless swarm of Huns and Goths will bury the memorials and trophies of civilized life beneath a living tide of barbarism. Our own selfishness, our own neglect, our own passions, and our own vices, will furnish the elements of our destruction. With our own hands we shall tear down the stately edifice of our glory. We shall die by self-inflicted wounds.

But we will not talk of themes like these. We will not think of failure, dishonor, and despair. We will elevate our minds to the contemplation of our high duties, and the great trust committed to us. We will resolve to lay the foundations of our prosperity on that rock of private virtue which can not be shaken until the laws of the moral world are reversed. From our own breasts shall flow the salient springs of national increase. Then our success, our happiness, our glory, is inevitable. We may calmly smile at all the croakings of all the ravens, whether of native or foreign breed.

The whole will not grow weak by the increase of its parts. Our growth will be like that of the mountain oak, which strikes its roots more deeply into the soil, and clings to it with a closer grasp, as its lofty head is exalted and its broad arms stretched out. The loud burst of joy and gratitude which this, the anniversary of our independence, is breaking

« 前へ次へ »