Imatges de pÓgina

call for this accumulation of armies and of But we have no election. If we were base navies ? No-she has none. They are enough to desire it, it is now too late to meant for us ; they can be meant for no retire from the contest. There is no reother. They are sent over to bind and treat but in submission and slavery-our rivet upon us those chains, which the Bri. chains are forged their clanking may be tish ministry have so long been forging. heard upon the plains of Boston. The war And what have we to oppose to them ? is inevitable, and let it come. It is in Shall we try argument ? Sir, we have vain to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen been trying that for the last ten years. may cry, peace, peace. But there is no Have we any thing new to offer upon the peace. The war is actually begun. The subject ? Nothing. We have held the next gale that sweeps from the north will subject up in every light of which it is ca. bring to our ears the clash of resounding pable, and all has been in vain. Shall we arms. Our brethren are already in the resort to entreaty and humble supplication ? field! Why stand we here idle ? What is What terms can we find which have not it that gentlemen wish ? What would already been exhausted ? Let us not, I they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so beseech you, Sir, deceive ourselves any sweet, as to be purchased at the price of longer. We have done every thing which chains and slavery! Forbid it, Almighty could be done to avert the storm which is God! I know not what course others may coming on. We have petitioned—we have take; but as for me—(cried he, his arms remonstrated—we have supplicated—we raised aloft, his brow knit, and his whole have prostrated ourselves before the throne, frame as if on fire with the enthusiasm and have implored its interposition to ar. which inflamed him) give me liberty or rest the tyrannical hands of the ministry give me death ! and the parliament. Our petitions have been slighted-our rémonstrances have pro

The appeal was decisive-his produced additional violence and insultour posal was carried in despite of all supplications have been disregarded, and opposition, and the House of Burwe have been spurned with contempt from gesses adjourned to a particular day, the foot of the throne. In vain after these amid the shouts of the Virginians things may we indulge the fond hope of and the impotent denunciations of peace and reconciliation.

There is no Lord Dunmore, their Governor. Inlonger any room for hope. If we wish to deed it is almost impossible, even be free—if we mean to preserve inviolate in this country, and at this distance those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending_if we mean

of time, to read this speech in the not basely to abandon the noble struggle closet, without feeling the force of in which we have been so long engaged, its reasoning, and the sublime intreand which we have pledged ourselves never pidity of its enthusiasm. What must to abandon, until the glorious object of our

it not have done then in such an contest shall be obtained—we must fight! assembly, aided by a delivery which -I repeat it, Sir-we must fight !- an is described almost miracuappeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is lous. The members are representall that is left us. They tell us that we are weak-unable to cope with so formi- of trance for some moments after

ed as having remained in a sort dable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be the next week, by an involuntary echo of his last

he had ceased, which was followed or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard words Liberty or Death !” shall be stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction ? Sir, we are not weak if we make We find it quite impossible to do a proper use of those means which the justice to this interesting subject God of nature hath placed in our power. within the limits of a single article; Three millions of people armed in the holy and we must, although reluctantly, cause of liberty, and in such a country as defer the remainder until our next that which we possess, are invincible by number. It still remains to exhibit any force which our enemy can send against Henry in a new character; to shew us. Besides, Sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who him fertile in resources and vigorous presides over the destinies of nations ; and in enterprise ; to complete our view who will raise up friends to fight our battles of his senatorial and forensic course; for us. The battle is not to the strong alone; and to describe the closing scenes of it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. his active and honourable life.



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Ali was cruel-a most cruel one !

"Tis rumour'd he had strangled his own motherHowbeit such deeds of darkness he had done,

'Tis thought he would have slain his elder brother
And sister too-bút happily that none

Did live within harm's length of one another,
Else he had sent the Sun in all its blaze
To endless night, and shorten'd the Moon's days.


Despotic power, that mars a weak man's wit,

And makes a bad man-absolutely bad,+
Made Ali wicked-to a fault :-'tis fit

Monarchs should have some check-strings; but he had
No curb upon his will - no, not a bit-

Wherefore he did not reign well—and full glad
His slaves had been to hang him—but they falter’d,
And let him live unhang’d-and still unalter’d,


Until he got a sage-bush of a beard,

Wherein an Attic owl might roost-a trail
Of bristly hair-that, honour'd and unsheard,

Grew downward like old women and cow's tail,
Being a sign of age-some grey appear’d,

Mingling with duskier brown its warnings pale ;
But yet, not so poetic as when Time
Comes like Jack Frost, and whitens it in rime.


Ben Ali took the hint, and much did vex

His royal bosom that he had no son,
No living child of the more noble sex

To stand in his Morocco shoes—not one
To make a negro-pollard—or tread necks

When he was gonemdoom'd when his days were done
To leave the very city of his fame
Without an Ali to keep up his name.

Surnamed Brother of the Sun and Moon. + This is better than “ power that makes weak men wicked, makes wicked men mad."(Sce Preface to the Expedition of Orsua, and the Crimes of Aguirre, by Mr. Southey.)

# The ladies may complain here, that they ought to be the distinguished sex ; but in truth they are not so entitled. They must all have heard, fond as they are of China, of mandarines, but who ever heard of icomandarines ?


He knew that man with many years must fail,

And turn old woman, though he still should wear
Breeches like coats,* and totter in proof-male ;

That he himself might be of those that are
Childish, without a child, though they entail

Their likeness on the world, 'tis but an heir
“ Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing,"
Such as Republicans do choose their king. +

Therefore he chose a lady for his love,

Singling from out the herd one stag-eyed dear;
So call’d, because her lustrous eyes, above

All eyes, were dark, and timorous, and clear;
Then, through his Muftis piously he strove,

And drumm’d with proxy prayers Mohammed's ear:
Knowing a boy for certain must come of it,
Or else he was not praying to his Profit.


Beer will grow mothery, and ladies fair

Will grow like beer; so did that stag-eyed dame :
Ben Ali hoping for a son and heir,

Boy'd up his hopes, and even chose a name
Of mighty hero that his child should bear;

He made so certain ere his chicken came :-
But oh! all worldly wit is little worth,
Nor knoweth what to-morrow may bring forth !

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Then strove their stag-eyed mother to calm down

This his paternal rage, and thus addrest:
“ O! Most Serene! why dost thou stamp and frown,

And box the compass of thy royal chest?
Ah! thou wilt mar that portly trunk, I own

I love to gaze on !-Prythee, thou hadst best
Pocket thy fists. Nay, love, if you so thin
Your beard you'll want a wig upon your chin!”

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George Fox, in “ The Fashions of this World made manifest,” says, 66 and further to get breeches like a coat.” He can mean nothing else but a petticoat. Printer's Devil. What does the author mean here? Author. Nothing.


For Ali had a sword, much like himself,

A crooked blade, guilty of human gore-
The trophies it had lopp'd from many an elf

Were stuck at his head-quarters by the score-
Nor yet in peace he laid it on the shelf,

But jested with it, and his wit cut sore ;
So that (as they of Public Houses speak)

He often did his dozen butts a week.


Therefore his slaves, with most obedient fears,

Came with the sack the lady to enclose;
In vain from her stag-eyes “ the big round tears

Coursed one another down her innocent nose;
In vain her tongue wept sorrow in their ears;

Though there were some felt willing to oppose,
Yet when their heads came in their heads, that minute,
Though 'twas a piteous case, they put her in it.

And when the sack was tied, some two or three

Of these black undertakers slowly brought her
To a kind of Moorish Serpentine; for she

Was doom'd to have a winding sheet of water.
Then farewell earth-farewell to the green tree

Farewell the sun—the moon-each little daughter!
She's shot from off the shoulders of a black,
Like a bag of Wall's-End from a coalman's back.


The waters oped, and the wide sack full fill'd

All that the waters oped, as down it fell ;
Then closed the wave, and then the surface rillid

A ring above her like a water knell ;
A moment more, and all its face was still’d,

And not a guilty heave was left to tell
That underneath its calm and blue transparence
A dame lay drowned in her sack like Clarence.


But Heaven beheld, and awful witness bore,

The moon in black eclipse deceased that night,
Like Desdemona smother'd by the Moor-

The lady's natal star with pale affright
Fainted and fell—and what were stars before,

Turn'd comets as the tale was brought to light;
And all look'd downward on the fatal wave,
And made their own reflections on her grave.


Next night a headma little lady head,

Push' through the waters a most glassy face,
With weedy tresses, thrown apart and spread,

Comb'd by 'live ivory, to show the space
Of a pale forehead, and two eyes that shed

A soft blue mist, breathing a bloomy grace
Over their sleepy lids-and so she raised
Her aqualine nose above the stream, and gazed.

* The author is wrong here : Clarence was not drowned in Sack, but in a butt of Malmsbury.-A True Critic.


She oped her lips-lips of a gentle blush,

So pale it seem'd near drowned to a white,
She oped her lips, and forth there sprang a gush

Of music bubbling through the surface light;
The leaves are motionless, the breezes hush

To listen to the air-and through the night
There come these words of a most plaintive ditty,
Sobbing as they would break their hearts with pity.


Farewell, farewell, to my mother's own daughter,

The child that she wetmursed is lapp'd in the wave;
The Mussulman coming to fish in this water
Adds a tear to the flood that weeps over her grave.

This sack is her coffin, this water's her bier,

This greyish bath cloak is her funeral pall;
And, stranger, O stranger! this song that you hear
Is her epitaph, elegy, dirges, and all !

Farewell, farewell, to the child of Al Hassan,

My mother's own daughter—the last of her race-
She's a

a corpse, poor body! and lies in this basin,
And sleeps in the water that washes her face.



Williams's views IN GREECE, &c.

There has been lately exhibited wonder and well-regulated delight. at the Calton Convening room, Edin- It is really a most agreeable novelty burgh, a collection of views in Greece, to the passing visitant, to see the Italy, Sicily, and the Ionian Isles, beauty of the North, the radiant painted in water colours by Mr. beauty of the North, enveloped in Hugh Williams, a native of Scot- such an atmosphere, and set off by land, which themselves do honour to such a back-ground. Oriental skies the talents of the artist, as the at- pour their molten lustre on Caledotention they have excited does to nian charms. The slender, lovely, the taste of the northern capital. It taper waist (made more taper, more is well; for the exhibition in that lovely, more slender by the staytown of the works of living artists maker), instead of being cut in two (to answer to our Somerset House by the keen blasts that rage in exhibition) required some set-off. Prince's street, is here supported by Mr. Williams has made the amende warm languid airs, and a housand honorable, for his country, to the of- sighs, that breathe from the vale of fended genius of art, and has stretch- Tempe. Do not those fair tresses ed out under the far-famed Calton look brighter as they are seen hangHill, and in the eye of Arthur's Seat, ing over a hill in Arcadia, than when fairy visions of the fair land of they come in contact with the hard Greece, that Edinburgh belles and grey rock of the castle? Do not beaux repair to see with cautious those fair blue eyes look more trans

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