SORROW FOR THE DEAD. And we,-shall we die in our chains, Who once were as free as the wind? 171 SORROW FOR THE DEAD. IRVING. The following extract, as remarkable for the purity of its expression as the justness of its sentiment, should be spoken in a tone of unaffected feeling: There is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is a remembrance of the dead, to which we turn even from the charms of the living. O, the grave! the grave! It buries every errorcovers every defect--extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave, even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb that he should ever have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him? But the grave of those we loved-what a place for meditation ! There it is that we call up, in long review, the whloe history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments, lavished upon us-almost unheeded-in the daily intercourse of intimacy; there it is that we dwell upon the tenderness-the solemn, awful tenderness-of the parting scene. The bed of death, with all its stifled griefs-its noiseless attendance-its mute, watchful assiduities. The last testimonies of expiring love! The feeble, fluttering, thrilling-0, how thrilling!-pressure of the hand! The last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us, even from the threshold of existence! The faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection! Ay! go to the grave of buried love, and meditate! There settle the account with thy conscience, for every past benefit unrequited-every past endearment unregarded-of that departed being, who can never-never-never return, to be soothed by thy contrition! If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent, -if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth,-if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, or word, or deed the spirit that generously confided in thee,-if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart which now lies cold and still be 172 VALEDICTORY ADDRESS. neath thy feet;-then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul; then be sure that thou wilt lie down, sorrowing and repentant, on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear --more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing! Then weave thy chaplet of flowers, and strew the beauties of nature about the grave; console thy broken spirit, if thou canst, with these tender, yet futile tributes of regret; but, take warning by the bitterness of this thy contrite affliction over the dead, and henceforth be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living. VALEDICTORY ADDRESS TO THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES, 1842. HENRY CLAY. This eloquent farewell address of the great Kentuckian should be given with the full, sonorous voice of its author, if possible the figure proudly erect, the arm now sweeping over the Senate, then bearing the good right hand to that brave honest heart, while with heaven-turned eye he appeals to the great Searcher of Hearts as to the integrity of his motives: And now, allow me to announce, formally and officially, my retirement from the Senate of the United States, and to present the last motion I shall ever make in this body. But, before I make that motion, I trust I shall be pardoned if I avail myself, with the permission and indulgence of the senate, of this last occasion of addressing to it a few more observations. I entered the Senate of the United States in December, 1806. I regarded that body then, and still consider it, as one which may compare, without disadvantage, with any legislative assembly, either in ancient or modern times,-whether I look to its dignity, the extent and importance of its powers, the ability by which its individual members have been distinguished, or its organic constitution. If compared in any of these respects with the senates either of France or of England, that of the United States will sustain no derogation. With respect to the mode of constituting those bodies, I may observe, that, in the House of Peers in England, with the exceptions of Ireland and of Scotland,-and in that of France with no exception whatever, the members hold their places in their individual rights, under no delegate authority,-not even from the order to VALEDICTORY ADDRESS. 173 which they belong, but derive them from the grant of the crown, transmitted by descent, or created in new patents of nobility; while here we have the proud and more noble title of representatives of sovereign states, of distinct and independent commonwealths. If we look again at the powers exercised by the senates of France and England, and by the senate of the United States, we shall find that the aggregate of power is much greater here. In all, the respective bodies possess the legislative power. In the foreign senates, as in this, the judicial power is invested, although there it exists in a larger degree than here. But, on the other hand, that vast, undefined, and undefinable power, involved in the right to co-operate with the executive in the formation and ratification of treaties, is enjoyed in all its magnitude and consequence by this body, while it is possessed by neither of theirs besides which, there is another function of very great practical importance-that of sharing with the executive branch in distributing the immense patronage of this government. In both these latter respects we stand on grounds different from the House of Peers either of England or France. And then, as to the dignity and decorum of its proceedings, and ordinarily as to the ability of its members, I may, with great truth, declare that, during the whole long period of my knowledge of this senate it can, without arrogance or presumption, stand an advantageous comparison with any deliberate body that ever existed in ancient or modern times. Full of attraction, however, as a seat in the senate is, sufficient as it is to satisfy the aspirations of the most ambitious heart, I have long determined to relinquish it, and to seek that repose which can be enjoyed only in the shades of private life, in the circle of one's own family, and in the tranquil enjoyments included in one enchanting word-Home. It was my purpose to terminate my connection with this body in November, 1840, after the memorable and glorious political struggle which distinguished that year; but I learned, soon after, what indeed I had for some time anticipated from the result of my own reflections, that an extra session of Congress would be called; and I felt desirous to co-operate with my political and personal friends in restoring, if it could be affected, the prosperity of the country, by the best measures which their united counsels might be able to devise; and I therefore attended the extra session. * * * * * * * From 1806, the period of my entrance upon this noble theatre, with short intervals, to the present time, I have been engaged in the public councils at home or abroad. Of the services rendered during that long and arduous period of my life it does not become me to speak; history, if she deign to notice me, and posterity, if the recollection of my humble actions shall be transmitted to posterity, are the best, the truest, and the most impartial judges. |