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-and manifesting the intelligence-of-the-times/ in which you li've-you will do such an act of m'ercy, and bles'sing to m'an, as n'o-men, but yours'elves/ are a'ble/ to gr'ant.


(With particular reference to his splendid Address in the House of Lords, of which the two preceding Articles form a part.)


HE has this day/ surprised the thousands/ who hung with rapture on his a'ccents, by such an array of talents, such an exhibition of capa'city, such a displa'y of p'owers, as are unparalleled in the a'nnals of or'atory;-a displ'ay/ that reflected the highest honour on himself-lu'stre upon let'ters-renow`n upon parliament-gl'ory upon the country. Of all species of rh'etoric, of every kind of e'loquence/ that has been wi'tnessed or recorded, either in an'cient or mo`dern times; whatever the ac'uteness of the ba'r, the di'gnity of the sen`ate, the solidity of the judgment-seat, and the sacred morality of the pulpit, have/ hitherto/ furnished; nothing has e'qualled/ what we have this day hea'rd/ in We ́stminster-Hall. No holy se'er of reli`gion, no sta'tesman, no o`rator, no man of any literary descr ́iption whatever, has com'e-up, (in the on'e-instance,) to the pure sen'timents of mo'rality, or/ in the other, to that variety of knowledge, for'ce of imagina'tion, propri'ety and viva'city of allus'ion, bea'uty and e'legance of dic'tion, streng'th and co'piousness of style, pa'thos and sublim'ity of conception, to whi`ch/ we, this day, lis'tened, with a'rdour and admira'tion. From poetry up to e'loquence/, there is not a species of composition, of which a compl'ete and perfect-specimen/ migh't-not (from that single-speech) be cu'lled and collected.



It is now s'ixteen or se`venteen-years/ since I saw the Queen of France, then the daup'hiness, at Versailles; and surely

never ligh'ted on this o'rb (which sh`e hardly seemed to touch) a more delightful vi'sion! I saw her just above the horizon, de'corating and che'ering the elevated sph'ere/ she had just begun to move i'n,-glit'tering like the morning-star; full of life, and splendour, and jo`y.

Oh'! wha't a revolu'tion !-and what a heart must I hav'e, to conte'mplate (without em'otion,) that elevation and that fa'll! Little did I dream/ th'at, when she added titles of venera^tion/ to those of enthusiastic, di`stant, respectful love, she should ever be obliged/ to carry the sharp a'ntidote/ against disgrace/ concealed in that bo'som ;-little did I drea'm/ th'at/ I should have lived/ to have seen such disasters fallen-uponher/ in a nation of gallant-men,-in a n'ation of me`n-of-honour/ and of caval'iers. I thought ten thousand swo`rds/ must have leaped from their scabbards/ to have aven'ged/ even a lo^ok, that threatened he'r with i'nsult.-But the age of c'hivalry is gone. That of sophisters, econo'mists, and calculators, has suc'ceeded; and the glory of Europe/ is extinguished for ever. Ne'ver, never mo're, shall we beho ́ld/ that generous lo'yalty to r'ank and se'x,-that pr'oud submission,-that di'gnified obe'dience,-that subordination of the heart, which kept alive (even in servitude its elf,) the spirit of an exalted freedom. The unbought gra'ce of life, the cheap def'ence of nations, the nurse of ma'nly-sentiment and hero'ic-enterprise, is go`ne: It is'-gone, that sensibility of principle,-that cha ́stity of ho`nour, which felt a st'ain/ like a wound,-which inspired courage/ whilst it mitigated ferocity, which enno'bied whatever it touched; and under whic'h/ vice itself/ lost half its e'vil, by lo'sing all its grossness.



ON'CE/ in the flight of ages pa'st,

There lived a ma'n;-and wh'o was he?

M'ortal! how'e'er thy lot be ca'st,

Tha't-man/ resembled the'e.

Unknown the region of his birth,

The la'nd/ in which he d'ied/ unkno`wn ;

His name hath perished from the earth,
Thi's truth/ survives alone;

That jo'y, and gr'ief, and hop'e, and fe’ar,
Altern'ate/ triumphed in his breast;
His bli'ss and w'o,- -a smile, a te'ar;
Oblivion/ hides the res't.

The bounding pulse, the languid lim`b,
The changing spir'its/ rise and fall;
We know that the se/ were felt by him,
For the se/ are felt by a^ll!

He suffered but his pan'gs/ are o'e'r;
Enjoyed-but his deli'ghts/ are fle'd;
Had frien'ds-his friends/ are now no m'ore;
And foe's-his foe's/ are dea'd.

He love`d-but who'm he lo'ved, the grave/
Hath lost in its unco'nscious wo'mb:
O! she was fair! but nought could save/
Her beauty/ from the tomb.
He sa'w/ whatever thou hast seen,
Encountered/ all' that troubles th ́ee;
He wa's-whatever thou hast be'en ;
He is what thou shalt be'.

The rolling sea'sons, da'y and night,

(Su'n, mo'on, and stars, the earth and m'ain,)

Ere while his por'tion, lif'e and light,

To him/ exist in vain'.

The clouds and su'n-beams, o'er his eye,

That once their sha'des and glo'ry thr'ew, Lower

Have lef't, (in yonder silent sk'y,)

No ve'stige/ where they fle'w.

The annals of the human race,

Their rui'n/ since the world beg'an,

Of hi'm/ afford no other tra'ce



Lower still.




TO-MORROW, didst thou sa'y?

Methought I heard Horatio sa'y, To-morrow.

Go to -I will not he ar of it-To-morrow!

'Tis a sharper, who stakes his p ́enury

Against thy plen'ty-who takes thy ready ca'sh,
And pays thee nought/ but wishes, ho'pes, and prom`ises,
The currency of i`diots-injurious bankrupt,
That gu'lls the easy cre'ditor!-To-morrow!
It is a period/ no'-where to be fou'nd

(In all the hoary registers of Ti'me,)
Unl'ess (perchan'ce) in the fool's-calendar!
Wi'sdom/ disclaims the word, nor holds society
With tho'se/ who ow'n it. No', my

'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its fa`ther;
Wrought of such stu'ff/ as dreams are, and ba'seless
As the fantastic vi'sions of the e'vening.

But s'oft, my friend-arrest the pre^sent moments;
For, be assured, they all are arrant t'ell-tales;
An'd, (though their flight be silent, and their pa'th/
Trackless, as the winged couriers of the air,)
They post to heaven, and th ́ere/ record thy folly.
Because', though stationed on the important wat'ch,
Tho'u, (like a sle'eping, fai^thless sen'tinel,)
Didst let them pa'ss, unnoticed, unimpro^ved.
And know, for that thou slumberedst on the gua'rd,
Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar
For e^very-fugitive; an ́d, when thou thuˇs/
Shalt stand impl'eaded at the high tribu`nal
Of hood-winked Ju'stice, who/ shall te'll thy au`dit!
Then sta'y the present instant, de^ar-Horatio;
Imprint the marks of wi'sdom/ on its wings.

'Tis of more worth than kiˇngdoms! far more precious
Than all the cri^mson treasures of life's fountain !-
O'! let it not elu'de thy grasp; b'ut, (like

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The good old patriarch upon record,)*

Hold the fleet angel fa'st, until he ble^ss thee !

* We have here another instance of the sovereign power of " Rhythmus," which changes the accent of the noun (as in the previous example) into that of the verb.

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Ar the cl'ose of the da'y, when the ha'mlet is st ́ill,
And m'ortals the swee'ts of forge'tfulness pr'ove;
When nou'ght/ but the to`rrent/ is heard on the h'ill,
And nought/ but the nightingale's son'g in the gr'ove;
'Twas th'us, by the cave of the mountain afʼar,

While his harp rung sympho`nious, a Hermit beʼgan;
No more with himself or with na^ture at w'ar,

He thought/ as a sa ge, though he feˇlt/ as a ma^n.

"Ah! why all abandoned to dark'ness and w'o;


Wh'y, (lone Philom ́ela), that languishing fa'll! "For/ Spring shall return, and a lo`ver best'ow, "And so'rrow/ no longer thy bo`som inth ́ral. "But, if pity inspi're thee, rene'w the sad la'y,

"Mo'urn, (sweetest compl'ainer), ma^n/ calls thee to mo'urn; "O sooth him, whose ple'asures/ like thi'ne pass away: "Full quickly they pa'ss-but they never return.

"Now gliding rem'ote, (on the verge of the sky),
"The moon (half extinguished) her crescent displays :
"But lately I mar'ked/ when majestic on high

"She sh'one, and the pla'nets were lo ́st in her blaz`e.
"Roll o'n, (thou fair o'rb), and with gladness pur'sue
"The pa'th/ that conducts thee to splendour again:
"But man's faded glory, wha't change shall rene ́w !
Ah, fool! to exult in a glo`ry so vain!


"'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more:


"I mo'urn, but ye woodlands, I mou'rn not for you; "For m'orn is appro`aching, yo^ur charms to rest'ore, "Perfum'ed with fresh fra'grance, and glittering with dew'. "Nor yet for the ravage of Wi^nter I mo'urn;


"Kind na'ture the embryo blo'ssom will sa ́ve:

But/ when shall Spring visit the mouldering uˇrn!

"O/ when shall day da'wn/ on the night of the graˇve!

*These four lines should be read in a lower key, because our voice, in reading or speaking, naturally and properly assumes a lower pitch in the first and second, than in the third person.

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