These are his'-portion - but/ if joined to the se,
Gaunt Po'verty/ should league with deep Dissease,
If the high sp'irit/ must forget to so’ar,
And stoop to strive with Mis ery/ at the door,
To soothe Indig'nity — a'nd, face to face,
Meet sordid Rag'e — and wre'stle with Disgʻrace,
To find in Hop'e/ but the renewed car'ess,
The serpent-fold/ of further Fai'thlessness,
If su'ch may be the i'lls/ which men ass'ail,
What marvel if/ at la'st the mightiest f'ail ?*

But far from us', and from our mimic sce'ne,
Such'-things should b'e—(if such have e'ver be'en ;)
Ou’rs be the gentler wi'sh, the kin'der taʼsk,
To give the tri'bute/ glo‘ry need not a’sk,
To mourn the vanished beam--and add our mi'te/
Of pra'ise/ in p'ayment of a long delig'ht.-
Ye O'rators ! whom ye't our councils yi'eld,
Mourn for the veteran-hero of

your

fi'eld !
The wor'thy-rival/ of the wondrous three !!
Whose words were sp’arks/ of immortality !
Ye Bar'ds ! to whom the Drama's Mu'se is desar,
H'e was your m'aster—e'mulate him he're !
Ye men of wit and social e'loquence !
H'e was your br‘other-bear his a'shes he'nce !
While

powers of mi'nd/ almost of boundless ra'nge,
(Compl’ete in kin'd-as vari'ous in their cha'nge ;)
While e'loquence—wi't-po'esy--and mi’rth,
(That hu'mbler-harmonist of car e on ear'th,)
Šurvi've within our sou'ls—while liv'es our se'nse/
Of pr'ide/ in merit’s-proud-pre-e’minence, I
Long shall we seek his likeness—lo'ng in v'ain, ?
And turn to all of hi'm/ which may rema'in,

Concluding tone. Sighing that Na'ture/ formed but on'e/ suc'h-man And broke the di'e-in mou'lding SHE'RIDAN!

The manner and voice both require a change

at “Ye Orators."

THE MOTHER'S APOSTROPHE TO HER

SLEEPING INFANT.

CAMPBELL.

Lo! at the cou'ch/ where in fant-beauty sle'eps, Her silent watc'h/ the mournful mother keseps ; Sh'e (while the lovely babe/ unconscious li'es) Smiles on her slumbering chi'ld/ with pensive e'yes, And weaves a so'ng/ of me'lancholy-joy“ Sle'ep, (image of thy fath'er,) slee'p, my boy': “No lingering hour of sor'row, shall be th’ine; “ No si'gh that rends thy fa'ther's hea'rt/ and miľne ; “ Bri’ght (as his manly si're) the so'n shall b'e/ “ In for'm and soʻul; but, ah'! more bles'sed than hoe! “ Thy fam'e, thy wo'rth, thy filial-love, at la'st, “ Shall sooth this aching hea'rt/ for all the past, “With many a sm'ile/ my solitude repay, « And ch'ase the world's) ungenerous sc'orn away":

“ And say', (when summoned from the woʻrld and th'ee, “ I lay my he'ad/ beneath the willow tr’ee,) “ Wilt th’ou, (sweet moʻurner !) at my sto'ne app'ear, “ And sooth my parted spirit/ lingering n'ear ? “Oh, wi'lt thou co'me (at evening hoʻur) to sh'ed/ “ The tears of Me'mory/ o'er my narrow b'ed; “ With aching temp'les/ on thy hand recli’ned, “ Muse on the last farewe'll/ I leave beh'ind, “ Breathe a deep sigh/ to winds that murmur l'ow, “ And thi'nk on all my love, and a'll my

w^o ?”
So speaks affection, ere the infant e'ye
Can look regar'd, or brighten in rep’ly ;
But', when the cherub lip/ hath learned to clasim/
A mother's ea'r/ by that endearing-name;
Soon as the playful in `nocent/ can prove/
A tea'r of pit'y, or a smi'le of lo've,
Or cons his murmuring ta'sk/ beneath her ca’re,
Or/ lis'ps (with holy lo'ok) his ev'ening pra’yer,
Or/ gaz'ing, (mutely pen'sive,) sit's to hear'/

Pronounced

The mournful ballad/ warbled in his e’ar ;*
How fondly looks/ admiring Hope the wh'ile,
At every artless tear, and every sm’ile !
How glows the joyous pa'rent/ to desc'ry/ lower voice.
A gui'leless b'osom, tr'ue/ to sym'pathy!

in a

<6

THE CAPTURE OF WARSAW.

CAMPBELL.
OH! s'acred Truth! thy triumph ceased awh'ile,
And Hoʻpe, (thy si'ster,) ceased with the'e to s ́mile,
When leagued Oppression poured to Northern war's
Her whiskered pan'doors/ and her fierce hus'sars,
Waved her dread stan'dard/ to the breeze of m'orn,
Pealed her loud dru`m/, and twanged her trumpet h’orn ;
Tumultuous hor'ror/ brooded o'er her va'n,
Presaging wra'th to Poland—and to ma‘n !

Warsaw's las't-champion, from her heights surv'eyed,
Wi'de o'er the fields, a waste of r'uin laid-
“Oh! He'aven !” (he cr’ied,) “my bleeding cou'ntry sa've !'
“ Is there no hand on hig'h/ to shield the bra’ve ?

Ye't, though destruction/ sweep these lovely pla’ins, “ Ris'e, fellow-men ! our couîntry/ yet rem’ains !

By that drea'd-name, we wave the sword on hi’gh ! “ And sw'ear/ for he'r/ to li've !-with h'er/ to die !"

He said, and on the rampart-heightst arra'yed
His trusty wa'rriors, fe'w, but undism'ayed ;
Firm-paced and slo'w, a horrid front they foʻrm,
(Still as the bree'ze, but dreadful as the stoʻrm ;)
Lo'w, murmuring sou'nds/ along their banners fly',
Revenge, or de'ath !-(the watc'hword and reply.)
Then pealed the not'es, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud t’ocsin/ tolled their las't-alarm !

In vai’n, ala's ! in va`in, ye gallant fe'w !
From ran’k to ra'nk/ your volleyed thunder fl’ew!

* " Ear,” like “pre-eminence," -vide preceding selection requires more force than any other preceding rising inflection in the stanza.

+ There are two modes of pronouncing this substantive ; hite, and hate; the former is the most general, and also the most accurate—the latter the most agreeable to the spelling. Milton was the patron of the former ; and Mr. Garrick's pronunciation of the noun, (which is certainly the best) was hite.

Oh ! bloodiest picture/ in the book of Ti'me,
Sarmatia fe'll, unw'ept, without a crim'e ;
Found not a g'enerous fri'end, a pitying fo'e,
Stren'gth in her ar'ms, nor me'rcy in her wooe !
Dropped from her nerveless gra'sp/ the shattered sp'ear,
Closed her bright eyes, and curbed her high car'eer ;-
Ho'pe, for a sea'son, bade the world farew'ell,
And Freedom shri'eked—as Kosci'USKO fe'll !
The sun went dow'n, nor ce'ased the

carnage

th'ere,
Tumultuous murder/ shook the midnight air,
On Prague's proud ar'ch/ the fires of ruin glow,
His blood-dyed wa'ters/ murmuring fa'r below';
The storm prevai'ls, the rampart yields a wa'y,
Burs'ts the wild cry of h'orror/ and disma'y !
Ha'rk ! as the smouldering pil'es/ with thunder fall,
A thousand shr'ieks/ for hopeless-mercy ca'll !
Earth sho'ok-red meteors flashed along the sk'y,
And con'scious Nature/ shuddered at the cry!

Oh! rigʻhteous-Heaven ! ere freedo'm found a gra've,
Why slept the sword, omni potent to s'ave!
Where was thi'ne-arm, (O Ven'geance !) where thoy-rod,
That smote the foes of Zion and of God,
That crushed proud Am'mon, when his iron ca'r/
Was yok'ed in wr'ath, and th’undered from afa'r ?
Where was the stoʻrm, that slum'bered/ till the h'ost/
Of blood-stained Pharaoh/ left their trembling cosast ;
Then bade the deep/ in wild commotion fl’ow,
And hea'ved an oʻcean/ on their m'arch belo'w ?
Departed spir'its of the mighty de'ad !
Ye that at Mar'athon and Leuctra bl'ed ?
Frie'nds of the wor'ld! restore your sw'ords to m'an,
Fight in his sa'cred cau'se, and le'ad the va'n!
Y'et/ for Sarmatia's tears-of-blood/ ato'ne,
And make he'r-arm/ puiss'ant as your owon!
Oh ! once aga'in/ to Freedom's cause retur’n/
The patriot TEL·L—the BRUC'E of BAN'NOCKBURN !*

* Every paragragph in the shape of an apostrophe must be read in a lower tone of voice, which, of course, must be regulated by the nature of the subject ; the penultimate stanza of this touching selection, beginning with “ Oh! righteous Heaven,” requires a considerably lower pitch than the descriptive one immediately preceding it ; and the last, commencing with “ Departed spirits,” requires to be read almost in a whisper.

.!

H

an

REPLY TO HORACE WALPOLE. Right Hon. WILLIAM PITT-(Lord Chatham.)* This illustrious father of English oʻratory, having expressed himself in the House of Commons, with his accustomed e'nergy, in opposition to a bill then before the House, for preventing merc'hants from raising the wages of seamen in time of w'ar, and, ther'eby, inducing them to avoid His Majesty's service ;- his speech produced

answer from Mr. Horace Walpole, wh'o, in the cour'se-of-it, said, " Formidable sou'nds, and furious declama'tion, confident assertions, and lofty p'eriods, may affect the young and u'nexperienced ; and, perhaps, the honourable gentleman may have contracted hi's-habits of oratory, by conversing more with those of his ow'n-age, than with su'ch/ as have had more opportunities of acquiring know·ledge, and more successful m'ethods of communicating their sen'timents.” And he made use of some expre'ssions, such as v'ehemence of ge'sture, theatrical emotion, &c. and applied them to Mr. Pitt's m'anner of spe'aking. As soon as Mr. Walpole had sat do'wn, Mr. Pitt aro'se and replied, as follows :

SIR,—The atroʻcious-crime of being a you’ng-man (which the honourable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, cha’rged-upon-me) I shall neither attempt to pa'lliate, nor den'y,—but content myself with wis'hing, that I may of thoʻse/ whose follies may cea'se with their yoʻuth, and not of that number who are i'gnorant in spite of expe'rience. Whether you'th/ can be imputed to any man as a repr'oach, I will not, Sir, assume the pro'vince of determining ;-but surely ag‘e/ may become justly conte'mptible, if the opportu'nities which it brings/ have passed away without improvement, and vi'ce appears to preva'il, when the pas'sions have sub'sided. The wretch wh'o (after having seen the con'sequences of a thousand eʼrrors) continues still to blun'der, and whose a'ge/ has only added o'bstinacy to stup'idity, is surely the o'bject/ either of abhor'rence or conte'mpt, and deserves not that his gra'y-hairs/ should secure him from i'nsult. Much more, Sir, is h'e to be abhor'red, wh'o, as he has advan'ced

To be read explanatorily, and, of course, parenthetically.