Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, Presaging wrath to Poland - and to man! Warsaw's last champion from her heights surveyed Wide o'er the fields a waste of ruin laid — O Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save! He said; and on the rampart heights arrayed In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, And Freedom shrieked, as Kosciusko fell! O righteous Heaven! ere Freedom found a grave, Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save? Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod, That smote the foes of Sion and of God? Departed spirits of the mighty dead! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled! Friends of the world! restore your swords to man, Oh, once again to Freedom's cause return Yes, thy proud lords, unpitied land! shall see 219. Illustrative: References to man and nature. As a rule, on objects referred to, use a downward bend or inflection (§ 50), and sometimes the circumflex (§§ 69, 70). These objects should be articulated distinctly, which will tend to make the predominating Terminal stress (§ 101) short and sharp, or change it to Initial (§ 100). When, again, there is much Drift (§ 154), the Terminal will become Median stress (§ 102). Orotund Quality (§ 135), 66. SUFFERINGS AND DESTINY OF THE PILGRIMS. Edward Everett. Methinks I see it now, that one | solitary, | adventurous vèssel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hòpe, freighted with the prospects of a future | státe, and bound across the unknown | sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand | misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious m 8 RC up and prone WRC to br W voyage. Súns | rise and sèt, and weeks and mònths pàss, and wìn ter surprises them on the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished-for shore. I see them nów, scantily | supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation | in their ill-stored prison, dem tr RC and w to mf RC layed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route; and now driven in fury h R C pr h RC before the raging témpest, on the high and giddy wave. The awful h RC to 1 RC h RC L O R voice of the storm hówls through the rìgging; the laboring másts C down seem straining from their base; the dismal sound of the pùmps is 1 LO higher mo m heard; the ship léaps, as it were, màdly, from billow to bìllow; the m tr LC W1LC to 1 s 1 L L C O W ocean breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating deck, and beats, with deadening, shivering weight, against the 1 L C staggered vessel. I see them, escaped from these périls, pursuing their all but desperate | undertaking, and landed, at last, after a 1 BO few months' | passage, on the ice-clad rocks | of Plymouth, weak | and weary | from the voyage, | poorly | ármed, | scantily | C wl BC во W h B w ms B C provisioned, without | shelter, without | méans, surrounded by hostile tribes. Shut, now, the volume of history, and tell me, on any principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of ad venturers? Tell me, man of military science, in how many months were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes enumerated within the early limits of New England. Tell me, politician, how lòng did this shadow of a cólony, on which your conventions and W 8 LC 1 tr w B treaties had not smíled, lànguish on the distant coast? Student of history, compare for me the baffled | projects, the deserted | sèttle ments, the abandoned | adventures, of òther | times, and find the во parallel | of this! Was it the winter's stórm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and children? was it hard | labor and spare | méals? was it disease? was it the tómahawk? was it the deep | málady of a blighted | hópe, a rúined | énterprise, and a broken | héart, |áching, in its last | móments, at the recollection of the loved and left, beyond the séa?-was it some, or all of these united, m 8 RC 1RC to m SRC that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate? And is it possible that néither of these causes, that not all | combined, were able to blást | this bud | of hópe! Is it possible that from a beginning so feèble, so fràil, so wórthy not so much of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a progress | so steady, a growth | so ВО h and wider ВО 1 во wonderful, an expansion | so àmple, a reality | so important, a 67. NATIONS AND HUMANITY.-Geo. W. Curtis. It was not his olive valleys and orange groves which made the Greece of the Greek, it was not for his apple orchards or potato fields that the farmer of New England and New York left his plough in the furrow and marched to Bunker Hill, to Bennington, to Saratoga. A man's country is not a certain area of land, but it is a principle; and patriotism. is loyalty to that principle. The secret sanctification of the soil and symbol of a country is the idea which they represent; and this idea the patriot worships through the name and the symbol. So with passionate heroism, of which tradition is never weary of tenderly telling, Arnold von Winkelried gathers into his bosom the sheaf of foreign spears. So, Nathan Hale, disdaining no service that duty demands, perishes untimely with no other friend than God and the satisfied sense of duty. So, through all history from the beginning, a noble army of martyrs has fought fiercely, and fallen bravely, for that unseen mistress, their country. So, through all history to the end, that army must still march, and fight, and fall. But countries and families are but nurseries and influences. A man is a father, a brother, a German, a Roman, an American; but beneath all these relations, he is a man. The end of his human destiny is not to be the best German, or the best Roman, or the best father; but the best man he can be. History shows us that the association of men in various nations is made subservient to the gradual advance of the whole human race; and that all nations work together toward one grand result. So, to the philosophic eye, the race is but a vast caravan forever moving, but seeming often to encamp for centuries at some green oasis of ease, where lux ury lures away heroism, as soft Capua enervated the hosts of Hannibal. But still the march proceeds, slowly, slowly over mountains, through valleys, along plains, marking its course with monumental splendors, with wars, plagues, crimes, advancing still, decorated with all the pomp of nature, lit by the constellations, cheered by the future, warned by the past. In that vast march, the van forgets the rear; the individual is lost; and yet the multitude is but many individuals. The man faints, and falls, and dies, and is forgotten; but still mankind moves on, still worlds revolve, and the will of God is done in earth and heaven. We of America, with our soil sanctified and our symbol glorified by the great ideas of liberty and religion,— love of freedom and love of God,—are in the foremost vanguard of this great caravan of humanity. To us rulers look, and learn justice, while they tremble; to us the nations look, and learn to hope, while they rejoice. Our heritage is all the love and heroism of liberty in the past; and all the great of the Old World are our teachers. Our faith is in God and the Right; and God himself is, we believe, our Guide and Leader. Though darkness sometimes shadows our national sky, though confusion comes from error, and success breeds corruption, yet will the storm pass in God's good time, and in clearer sky and purer atmosphere our national life grow stronger and nobler, sanctified more and more, consecrated to God and liberty by the martyrs who fall in the strife for the just and true. And so, with our individual hearts strong in love for our principles, strong in faith in our God, shall the nation leave. to coming generations a heritage of freedom, and law, and religion, and truth, more glorious than the world has known before; and our American banner be planted first and highest on heights as yet unwon in the great march of humanity. |