« AnteriorContinuar »
CHARACTER OF PITT.
( ROBERTSON.) The secretary stood alone : / modern degeneracy had not reached him. | Original, and unaccommodating, I the features of his character, had the hardihood of antiquity. | His august mind over-awed ma jesty; I and one of his sovereignsa | thought royalty so impaired in his presence, that he conspired to remove him in order to be relieved from his superiority. | No state chicanery," | no narrow system of vicious politics, no idle contest for ministerial victories, I sunk him to the vulgar level of the great ; | but over-bearing, persuasive, and impracticable, | his object was Eng’land, I his ambition was fame.
Without dividing, he destroyed party ; l without corrupting, he made a venal age unanimous. | France sunk beneath him. | With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon, I and wielded in the other, the democracy of England. | The sight of his mind was in finite; I and his schemes were to affect, not England, not the present age only, I but Europe, and posterity. | Wonderful were the means by which these schemes were accomplished — | always seasonable, I always ad'equate, | the suggestions of an understanding animated by ardour, and enlightened by prophecy. I
The ordinary feelings which make life amiable, and indolent, I were unknown to him. | No domestic difficulties, | no domestic weakness reached him; | but, aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, I and unsullied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into our system, / to counsel, and to decide.
A character so exalted, I so strenuous, / so various, / so authoritative, I astonished a corrupt age - | and the treasury trembled at the name of Pitt | through all her classes of venality. | Corruption imagined, indeed, 1 that she had found defects' in this statesman, / and talked much of the inconsistency of his glory, and much of the ruin of his victories; 1 but the history of his country, | and the calamities of the enemy, i answered, and refuted her.
a Sův'er-inż. She-ka'nůr-ré. c Untractable.
Nor were his political abilities his on'ly talents:1 his eloquence was an era in the sen,ate, peculiar, and sponta'neous, familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments, and instinctive wis,dom; I not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully; | it resembled sometimes the thunder, I and sometimes the music of the spheres. | Like Murray, he did not conduct the understanding through the painful subtlety of argumentation; | nor was he, like Townshend, for ever on the rack of exertion ; | but rather lightened upon the subject, I and reached the point by the flashings of the mind', / which, like those of his eye, / were felt, but could not be followed. i
Upon the whole, there was in this man something that would create', / subvert', / or reform'; , an understanding, | a spirit, and an eloquence, I to summon mankind to society, I or to break the bonds of slavery asun der, - | something to rule the wilderness of free minds with unbounded author'ity; | something that could establish, / or overwhelm' empire, / and strike a blow in the world, that should resound through the universe.
[Enter CLARENCE and BRACKENBURY.] Brack. Why looks your grace so heav'ily to-day?!
Clar. O I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, I of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, /
I would not spend another such a night,
you, tell me. ,
did once inhabit, / there were crept, (As 't were in scorn of eyes) | reflecting gems' | That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Brack. Had you such leisure in the time of death, | To gaze upon these secrets of the deep'? |
Clar. Methought I had'; | and often did I strive
a Mine ears; not mine-nears. Mine eyes; not mine-nize.
Brack. Awak'd you not with this sore ag'ony?!
Clar. O no, I my dream was lengthen'd after life; O then began the tempest to my soul : / I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood | With that grim ferryman which poets write of, / Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. | The first that there did greet my stranger soul, ! Was my great fa'ther-in-law, I renowned Warwick, | Who cried aloud, - 1" What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy | afford false Clarence ? And so he vanish'd. | Then came wand'ring by A shadow like an, an'gel, / with bright hair Dabbled in blood ; , and he shriek’d out aloud, “Clar'ence is come,– false', fleet'ing, perjur'd Clarence That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;--| Seize on him, fu'ries, I take him to your torments !” | With that, methought a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, I and howled in mine , ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise', I trembling wak’d', / and, for a season after, / Could not believe but that I was in helli, 1 Such terrible impression made my dream!
Brack. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
Clar. O Brackenbury, I have done these things | That now give evidence against my soul, 1,1 For Edward's sake; | and, see how he requites me!I pray thee, gentle keeper, I stay by' me - 1 My soul is heaviy, I and I fain would sleep. ! Brack. I will, my lord.
[Clarence reposes himself on a chair.
T often feel a world of restless cares. : 1
TO THE URSA MAJOR.
(H. WARE, JUN.) With what a stately, and majestic step That glorious constellation of the north Treads its eternal circle! | going forth Its princely way amongst the stars | in slow, And silent brightness. ✓ Mighty one, all-hail'! | I joy to see thee, on thy glowing path, | Walk like some stout, and girded giant | stern, Unwearied, resolute, whose toiling foot Disdains to loiter on its destined way. I The other tribes forsake their midnight track, And rest their weary orbs beneath the wave'; | But thou dost never close thy burning eye, ! Nor stay thy steadfast step. | But on, I still on', / While systems change, I and suns retire, I and worlds Slumber, and wake, I thy ceaseless march proceeds. | The near horizon tempts to rest in vain. I Thou, faithful sentinel, dost never quit Thy long-appointed watch ; | but, sleepless still, | Dost guard the fix'd light of the universe, I And bid the north for ever know its place. I Ages have witness'd thy devoted trust, Unchang’d, unchanging. | When the sons of God | Sent forth that shout of joy, / which rang thro' heaven, 1 And echoed from the outer spheres that bound The illimitable universe, thy voice Join'd the high cho'rus ; | from thy radiant orbs The glad cry sounded, I swelling to his praise, I Who thus had cast another sparkling gem, Little, but beautiful, l amid the crowd Of splendours | that enrich his firmament. As thou art now so wast thou then the same. Ages have roll’d their course; I and time grown grey ; ) The seas have chang'd their beds' ; | the eternal hills