9. In retiring, as I am about to do, forever from the Senate, suffer me to express my heartfelt wishes that all the great and patriotic objects of the wise framers of our Constitution may be fulfilled; that the high destiny designed for it may be fully answered; and that its deliberations, now and hereafter, may eventuate in securing the prosperity of our beloved country, in maintaining its rights and honor abroad, and upholding its interests at home. I retire, I know, at a period of infinite distress and embarrassment. I wish I could take my leave of you under more favorable auspices; but, without meaning at this time to say whether on any, or on whom reproaches for the sad condition of the country should fall, I appeal to the Senate and to the world to bear testimony to my earnest and continued exertions to avert it, and to the truth that no blame can justly attach to me.

10. May the most precious blessings of Heaven rest upon the whole Senate and each member of it, and may the labors of every one redound to the benefit of the nation and the advancement of his own fame and renown. And, when you shall retire to the bosom of your constituents, may you receive that most cheering and gratifying of all human rewards,—their cordial greeting of "well done, good and faithful servants." And now, Mr. President and Senators, I bid you all a long, a lasting, and a friendly farewell.

EXERCISE XCVIII.

1. HENRY, THE FOURTH, on his accession to the French crown, was opposed by a large part of his subjects, under the Duke of Mayenne, with the assistance of Spain and Savoy. In March, 1590, he gained a decisive victory over that party at Ivry. Before the battle, he addressed his troops: "My children, if you lose sight of your colors, rally to my white plume, you will always find it in the path to honor and glory." His conduct was answerable to his promise. Nothing could resist his impetuous valor, and the Leaguers underwent a total and bloody defeat

In the midst of the rout, Henry followed, crying,-"Save the French!" and his clemency added a number of the enemies to his own army.Aikin's Biographical Dictionary.

THE BATTLE OF IVRY.

I.

MACAULAY.

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre!
Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance,
Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vales, O pleasant land of
France !

And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters,
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters;
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,

For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war;
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry, and King Henry of Navarre!

II.

O! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day,
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array;
With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers,
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears!
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land!
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand;
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood,
And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood;
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war,
To fight for His own holy Name, and Henry of Navarre.

III.

The King has come to marshal us, in all his armor dressed,
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest:
He looked upon his People, and a tear was in his eye;

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high.

Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing,

Down all our line, in deafening shout,-" God save our lord, the King!" "And if my standard-bearer fall,,-as fall full well he may,

For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray,—

I'ress where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks of war,
And be your oriflamme,* to-day, the helmet of Navarre."

* The ancient royal standard of France.

IV.

Hurrah! the foes are moving! Hark to the miugled din
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin!
The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's plain,
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne.
Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France,
Charge for the golden lilies now, upon them with the lance!
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest,
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest;
And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star,
Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.

Now, God be praised, the day is ours! Mayenne hath turned his rein,
D'Aumale hath cried for quarter,-the Flemish Count is slain;
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale;
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail;
And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van,-
"Remember St. Bartholomew !" was passed from man to man ;
But out spake gentle Henry, then,-" No Frenchman is my foe;
Down, down with every foreigner! but let your brethren go."
O was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war,
As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre!

VI.

Ho! maidens of Vienna! Ho! matrons of Lucerne !

Weep, weep and rend your hair for those who never shall return!

Ho! Philip, send for charity thy Mexican pistoles,

That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearn en's souls!
Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright!
Ho! burgers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night I
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave,
And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of the brave.
Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre!

EXERCISE XCIX.

1. "PARRHASIUS, a painter of Athens, among those Olynthian captives Philip of Macedon brought home to sell, bought one very old man; and, when he had him at his house, put him to death with extreme torture

and torment, the better, by his example, to express the pain and pas sions of his Prometheus, whom he was then about to paint.--Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy.

PARRHASIUS AND THE CAPTIVE.

N. P. WILLIS.

1. There stood an unsold captive in the mart,
A gray-haired, and majestical old man,
Chained to a pillar. It was almost night;
And the last seller from his place had gone,
And not a sound was heard but of a dog
Craunching beneath the stall a refuse bone,
Or the dull echo from the pavement rung
As the faint captive changed his weary feet.

2. T was evening; and the half-descended sun
Tipped with a golden fire the many domes
Of Athens, and a yellow atmosphere
Lay rich and dusky in the shaded street,
Through which the captive gazed.

3. The golden light into the painter's room
Streamed richly, and the hidden colors stole
From the dark pictures radiantly forth,
And in the soft and dewy atmosphere,
Like forms and landscapes, magical they lay.
Parrhasius stood, gazing, forgetfully,
Upon his canvas. There Prometheus* lay
Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus,
The vulture at his vitals, and the links

Of the lame Lemniant festering in his flesh;

Seo note, p. 156.

The allusion is to Vulcan (see note, p. 156), who, according to the old legend, being thrust by Jupiter from the top of Olympus, fell down on Lemnos, an island in the Egean Sea, and so became lame in ore foot. There, as elsewhere, he is said to have raised enormous forges to work metals, especially to fabricate armor both for gods and men. Ho is represented as being the forger of the chains that bound Prometheus.

4.

5.

6.

7.

And, as the painter's mind felt through the dim,
Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth
With its far-reaching fancy, and with form
And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye,
Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl
Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip,
Were like the winged god's, breathing from his flight

"Bring me the captive now!

My hands feel skillful, and the shadows lift
From my waked spirit airily and swift,
And I could paint the bow

Upon the bended heavens; around me play
Colors of such divinity to-day.

"Ia! bind him on his back!

Look! as Prometheus in my picture here!
Quick! or he faints! stand with the cordial near!
Now, bend him to the rack!

Press down the poisoned links into his flesh!
And tear agape that healing wound afresh!

"So, let him writhe! How long

Will he live thus? Quick, my good pencil, now!
What a fine agony works upon his brow!

Ha! gray-haired, and so strong!

How fearfully he stifles that short moan!
Gods! if I could but paint a dying groan!

"Pity' thee! So I do!

I pity the dumb victim at the altar;

But does the robed priest for his pity falter!
I'd rack thee, though I knew

A thousand lives were perishing in thine ;-
What were ten thousand to a fame like mine!