Rise to his view, and in his fancy swell,
And guards and courtiers crowd his empty cell.
See how he walks majestic through the throng!
(Behind he trails his tatter'd robes along)
And cheaply blest, and innocently vain,
Enjoys the dear defusion of his brain:
In this small spot expatiates unconfin'd,
Supreme of monarchs, first of human kind.
Such joyful ecstacy as this possest

On some triumphal day great Cæsar's. breast:.
Great Cæsar scarce beneath the gods ador'd,
The world's proud victor, Rome's imperial lord,
With all his glories in their utmost height,
And all his pow'r display'd before his sight:
Unnumber'd trophies grace the pompous train,
And captive kings indignant drag their chain.
With laurel'd ensigns glitt'ring from afar,
His legions, glorious partners of the war,

His conqu'ring legions march behind the golden car;
While shouts on shouts from gather'd nations rise,
And endless acclamations rend the skies.
For this to vex mankind with dire alarms,
Urging with rapid speed his restless arms,
From clinie to clime the mighty madman flew,
Nor tasted quiet, nor contentment knew,
But spread wild ravage all the world abroad,
The plague of nations, and the scourge of god

THE meanest mechanic who employs his best affections his love and gratitude, on god, the best of beings; who retains a particular regard and esteem for the virtuous few, compassion for the distressed, and a firm expansive good-will to all; who, instead of triumphing over his enemies, strives to subdue the greatest enemy of all, his unruly passions; who promotes a good understanding between neighbours, appeases disputes and adjusts, differences; exercises candour to injured character, and cha rity to distressed worth; who, whilst he cherishes his friends, forgives, and even serves in any pressing exigen

cy,

his enemies; who abhors vice, but pitics the vicions : such a man, however low his station, has juster pretentions to the character of heroism,-(that heroism which implies nobleness and elevation of soul, bursting forth into correspondent actions,) than he who conquers armies, or makes the most glaring figure in the eyes of an injudicious world. He is like one of those fixed stars, which, through the remoteness of its situation, may be thought extremely little, inconsiderable, and obscure, by unskilful beholders, but yet is as truly great and glorious in itself, as those heavenly lights which, by being placed more obviously to our view, appear to shine with more distinguished lustre.

XXII. Junius Brutus's Invective on Tarquin's Rape of Lucretia.

YES, noble lady, I swear by this blood which was once so pure, and which nothing but royal villainy could have polluted, that I will pursue Lucius Tarquinius the proud, his wicked wife, and their children, with fire and sword: nor will I suffer any of that family, or of any other whatsoever to be king in Rome.-Ye gods, I call you to witness this my oath!

There, Romans, turn your eyes to that sad spectacle! -the daughter of Lucretius, Collatinus's wife-she died by her own hand! See there a noble lady, whom the lust of a Tarquin reduced to the necessity of being her own executioner, to attest her innocence. Hospitably entertained by her as a kinsman of her husband, Sextus, the perfidious guest, became her brutal ravisher. The chaste, the generous Lucretia could not survive the insult. Glorious woman! but once only treated as a slave, she thought life no longer to be endured. Lucretia, a woman, disdained a life that depended on a tyrant's will; and shall we, shall men, with such an example before our eyes, and after five-and-twenty years of ignominious servitude, shall we, through a fear of dying, defer one single instant to assert our liberty? No, Romans; now is the time; the favourable moment we have so long waited for is come. Tarquin is not at Rome: the patricians are at

the head of the enterprize: the city is abundantly provided with men, arms, and all things necessary: there is nothing wanting to secure success, if our own courage docs not fail us. And shall those warriors, who have ever been so brave when foreign enemies were to be subdued, or when conquests were to be made to gratify the ambi tion and avarice of Tarquin, be then only cowards, when they are to deliver themselves from slavery?

Some of you are perhaps intimidated by the army which Tarquin now commands: the soldiers, you ima. gine, will take the part of their general. Banish such a

groundless fear: the love of liberty is natural to all men. Your fellow citizens in the camp feel the weight of oppression with as quick a sense as you that are in Rome; they will as eagerly seize the occasion of throwing off the yoke. But let us grant there may be some among them who, through baseness of spirit, or a bad education, will be disposed to favour the tyrant; the number of these can be but small, and we have means sufficient in our hands to reduce them to reason. They have left us hostages more dear to them than life; their wives, their children, their fathers, their mothers, are in our city. Courage, Romans, the gods are for us; those gods, whose temples and altars the impious Tarquin has profaned by sacrifices and libations made with polluted hands, polluted with blood, and with numberless unexpiated crimes committed against his subjects.

Ye gods, who protected our forefather's! ye genii, who watch for the preservation and glory of Rome! do you inspire us with courage and unanimity in this glerious cause; and we will to our last breath defend your worship from all profanation.

XXIII. Brutus's Oration on the Death of Caesar.

ROMANS, Countrymen, and friends! hear me for my cause; and be silent that you may hear. Believe me for my honour, and have respect to my honour, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I

say, that Brutus's love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand,-why Brutus rose against Cæsar?-this is my answer:-Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, and live all freemen? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be à Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love. his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. -I pause for a reply.

None?

The

--then none have I offended.-I have done no more to Cæsar than you should do to Brutus. question of his death is enrolled in the capitol; his glory not extenuated wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced for which he suffered death.

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth, as which of you shall not? With this I depart; that as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.

XXIV. Mr. Sheridan's Eulogium on Mr. Fox.

GENTLEMEN,

UPON the one great subject, which, at this moment, I am confident, has possession of the whole feelings of every man, whom I address-the loss, the irreparable loss, of the great, the illustrious character, whom we all deplore-I shall, I can, say but little. A long Interval must take place between the heavy blow which has been struck, and the consideration of its effect, before any one (and how many are there!) of those who have revered and loved Mr. Fox, as I have done, can

speak of his death with the feeling, but manly compo sure, which becomes the dignified regret it ought to inspire. To say any thing to you at this moment, in the fresh hour of your unburthened sorrows-to depict, to dwell upon the great traits of his character-must be unnecessary, and almost insulting. Ilis image still lives before your eyes-his virtues are in your hearts-his loss is your despair. I have seen in a public print, what are stated to have been his last words and they are truly stated. They were these-"I die happy." Then, turning to the more immediate objects of his private affections, he added, "but, I pity you." Gentlemen, this statement is precisely true. But, oh! if the solemn fleeting hour had allowed of such considerations, and if the unassuming nature of his dignified mind had not with held him, which of you will allow his title to have said, not only to the sharers of his domestic love, hanging in mute despair upon his couch-" I pity you;" but pro phetically to have added, "I pity England-I pity Europe-I pity human nature"? He died in the spirit of peace; tranquil in his own expiring heart, and cherish. ing to the last, with a parental solicitude, the consoling hope, that he should be able to give established tranqui lity to harassed, contending nations. Let us trust that, that stroke of death which has borne him from us, may not have left the peace of the world, and the civilised charities of man, as orphans upon the earth.

From this afflicting consideration I pass to one comparatively insignificant-yet it is the question we are met this day to consider-namely, the pretensions of those who have the presumption to aspire to succeed him. An honourable friend has proposed me as a person worthy of that proud distinction: and I cannot deny but that it is an object of ambition-unmixed, I think, with one unworthy motive-very near my heart.

Having thus avowed my ambition, or my presumption, as some have been pleased to call it, I have now to speak of my pretensions. Egotism is always offensive; and I am happy that my honourable friend, who has proposed me, has left me little or nothing to say on this head. He has stated and I avow and adopt his statementthat my claim to your favour rests on the fact, that. I have, step by step, followed Mr. Fox through the whole