of old, may not be unavailing here. A conspiracy of profligate men, pandering to the passions of the people, may inflame them to their ruin-and the country, betrayed into the hands of its worst citizens, may be enslaved with all the appearances of freedom. Should that day come, remember never to capitulate-never to compromise-never to yield to the country's enemies. Remember that crime is not the less guilty-it is only the more dangerous by success. If you should see the cause betrayed by those who ought to defend it, be you only the more faithful. Never desert the country-never despond over its fortunes. Confront its betrayers, as madmen are made to quail beneath the stern gaze of fearless reason. They will denounce you. Disregard their outcries-it is only the scream of the vultures whom you scare from their prey. They will seek to destroy you. Rejoice that your country's enemies are yours. You can never fall more worthily than in defending her from her own degenerate children. If overborne by this tumult, and the cause seems hopeless, continue self-sustained and selfpossessed. Retire to your fields, but look beyond them. Nourish your spirits with meditation on the mighty dead who have saved their country. From your own quiet elevation, watch calmly this servile rout, as its triumph sweeps before you. The avenging hour will at last come. It cannot be that our free nation can long endure the vulgar dominion of ignorance and profligacy. You will live to see the laws re-established-these banditti will be Scourged back to their caverns-the penitentiary will reclaim its fugitives in office, and the only remembrance which history will preserve of them, is the energy with which you resisted and defeated them. XXXIII. Soliloquy of Manfred.-BYRON. THE spirits I have raised abandon me- The future, till the past be gulfed in darkness, And thou, fresh breaking day! and you, ye mountains! Art a delight-thou shinest not on my heart. And my brain reels-and yet my foot is firm: If it be life to wear within myself Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister, [An eagle passes. Whose happy flight is highest into heaven, But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, To sink or soar, with our mixed essence make And men are-what they name not to themselves, [The shepherd's pipe in the distance is heard. The natural music of the mountain reed- A pastoral fable-pipes in the liberal air, A living voice, a breathing harmony, XXXIV. The Utility of Spectacles; or, Helps to Read.-BYROM. A CERTAIN artist, I've forgot his name, These in my hand will better suit your eye- So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind: Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ball- XXXV. The Newcastle Apothecary.-COLMAN. A MEMBER of the Esculapian race Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister, Or give a glister. His fame full six miles round the country ran; All the old women called him "a fine man!" Benjamin Bolus, though in trade, (Which often will genius fetter) Read works of fancy, it is said, And cultivated the Belles Lettres. And why should this be thought so odd? Apollo patronizes physic. Bolus loved verse, and took so much delight in 't, That his prescriptions he resolved to write in 't. No opportunity he e'er let pass Of writing the directions on his labels, Or rather like the lines in Hudibras. Apothecary's verse!-and where's the treason? He had a patient lying at death's door, Some three miles from the town-it might be four; And, on the label of the stuff, He wrote this verse, Which one would think was clear enough, "When taken, To be well shaken." Next morning, early, Bolus rose, Who a vile trick of stumbling had : For what 's expected from a horse, The servant lets him in with dismal face, Portending some disaster; John's countenance as rueful looked and grim, "Indeed!-hum!-ha!-that's very odd! He took the draught?"-John gave a nod. "Well?-how?-what then?-speak out, you dunce." Why, then," says John, "we shook him once." "Shook him!-how?" Bolus stammered out. "We jolted him about." |