contrivers of your own ruin. Lives there a man who has confidence enough to deny it? Let him arise, and assign, if he can, any other cause of the success and prosperity of Philip- "But," you reply, "what Athens may have lost in reputation abroad, she has gained in splendor at home. Was there ever a greater appearance of prosperity; a greater face of plenty? Is not the city enlarged? Are not the streets better paved, houses repaired and beautified?" Away with such trifles! Shall I be paid with counters? An old square new vamped up! a fountain! an aqueduct! are these acquisitions to brag of? Cast your eye upon the magistrate under whose ministry you boast these precious im-. provements. Behold the despicable creature, raised, all at once, from dirt to opulence; from the lowest obscurity to the highest honors. Have not some of those upstarts built private houses and seats, vying with the most sumptuous of our public places? And how have their fortunes and their power increased, but as the Commonwealth has been ruined and impoverished?

Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of adventurers.-Tell me, man of military science, in how many months were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes enumerated within the early limits of New England? Tell me, politician, how long did the shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast? Student of history, compare for me the baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventures of other times, and find the parallel of this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and children; was it hard labor and

spare meals;-was it disease,-was it the tomahawk,— was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last moments at the recollection of the loved and left, beyond the sea; was it some, or all of these united, that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate?-And is it possible, that neither of these causes, that not all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope? Is it possible, that, from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy not so much of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so wonderful, an expansion so ample, a reality so important, a promise, yet to be fulfilled, so glorious?

Thou smilest? Smile: 'tis better than to sigh.

You come to take your stand here, and behold
The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?

But wherefore thou alone? wherefore with thee
Came not all hell broke loose? is pain to them
Less pain, less to be fled? or thou than they
Less hardy to endure?

Macd. How does my wife?

Rosse. Why, well.

Macd. And all my children?

Rosse. Well, too.

Macd. The tyrant has not battered at their peace?

Rosse. No; they were well at peace when I did leave them.

Child. Father! father!

Why do you look so terribly upon me?

You will not hurt me?

Father. Hurt thee, darling? no!

Has sorrow's violence so much of anger,

That it should fright my boy? Come, dearest, come.

C. You are not angry then.

F. Too well I love you.

Did not great Julius bleed for justice's sake?
What villain touched his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers-shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honors
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?

In vain they pushed inquiry to the birth

And spring-time of the world; asked, Whence is man?
Why formed at all? and wherefore as he is?
Where must he find his Maker? with what rites
Adore him? Will he hear, accept, and bless?

Or does he sit regardless of his works?
Has man within him an immortal seed?
Or does the tomb take all? If he survive
His ashes, where? and in what weal or woe?
Knots worthy of solution which alone
A Deity could solve.

And could'st thou faithful add? O name,
O sacred name of faithfulness profaned!
Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew?
Army of Fiends!-fit body to fit head!
Was this your discipline and faith engaged,
Your military obedience, to dissolve
Allegiance to the acknowledged Power supreme?
And thou, sly hypocrite, who now would'st seem
Patron of liberty, who more than thou

Once fawned, and cringed, and servilely adored
Heaven's awful Monarch?

What if this cursed hand

Were thicker than itself with brother's blood;

Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy,
But to confront the visage of offence?

And what's in prayer, but this twofold force,

To be forestalled, ere we come to fall,

Or pardoned being down?-Then I'll look up;

My fault is past.-But oh, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? "Forgive me my foul murder?"
That cannot be; since I am still possessed

Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardoned, and retain the offence?

O unexpected stroke, worse than of death!
Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave
Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades,
Fit haunt of gods? where I had hoped to spend,
Quiet though sad, the respite of that day
That must be mortal to us both. O flowers,
That never will in other climate grow,
My early visitation, and my last

At even, which I bred up with tender hand
From the first opening bud, and gave ye names,
Who now shall rear you to the sun, or rank
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?
Thee lastly, nuptial bower, by me adorned
With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower world, to this obscure

And wild? how shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits?

O sleep, O gentle sleep,

Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,

And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,

Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,

Under the canopies of costly state,

And lulled with sounds of sweetest melody?

O thou dull god, whyliest thou with the vile,

In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast

Seal up the ship boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge

And in the visitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamors in the slippery clouds,
That with the hurly death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea boy, in an hour so rude,
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a King?

Ham. But where was this?

Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we watched. Ham. Did you not speak to it?

Hor. As I do live, my honored lord, 'tis true;

And we did think it writ down in our duty,

To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.

Hold you the watch to-night?

Hor. We do, my lord.

Hor. Armed, my lord.

Ham. From top to toe?

Hor. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. Then saw you not his face?

Hor. O yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.

Ham. What, looked he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.