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Jaouth, and a bribe in his pocket, a champion against the rights of America, the only hope of Ireland, and the only refuge of the liberties of mankind. Thus defective in every relationsbip, whether to Constitution, commerce,'or toleration, I will suppose this man to have added much private improbity to public crimes; that his probity was like his patriotism, and his honor on a level with his oath.
He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. I will interrupt him, and say, "Sir, you are mistaken if you think that your talents have been as great as your life has been reprehensible. You began your parliamentary career with an acrimony and personality which could have been justified only by a supposition of virtue. After a rank and clamorous opposition you became, on a sudden, silent; you were silent for seven years; you were silent on the greatest questions; and you were silent for money! You supported the unparalleled profusion and jobbing of Lord Harcourt's scandalous ministry—the address to support the American war—the other address to send four thousand men, which you had yourself declared to be necessary for the defence of Ireland, to fight against the liberties of America, to which you had declared yourself a friend. You, sir, who manufacture stage-thunder against Mr. Eden for his anti-American principles-you, sir, whom it pleases to chant a hymn to the immortal Hampdenyou, sir, approved of the tyranny exercised against America; and you, sir, voted four thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans figbting for their freedom, fighting for your freedom, fighting for the great principle, LIBERTY; But you found, at last (and this should be an eternal lesson to men of your craft and cunning), that the King had only dishonored you; the court had bought, but would not trust you; and, having voted for the worst measures, you remained, for seven years, the creature of salary, without the confidence of goverment. Mortified at the discovery, and stung by disappointment, you betake yourself to the sad expedients of duplicity. You try the sorry game of a trimmer in your progress to the acts of an incendiary. You give no honest support either to the government or the people; observing, with regard to both prince and people, the most impartial treachery and desertion, you justify the suspicion of your Sovereign, by betraying the government, as you had sold the people, until, at last, by this hollow conduct, and for some other steps, the result of mortified ambition, being dismissed, and another person put in your place, you fly to the ranks of the Volunteers and canvass for mutiny.
Such has been your conduct; and at such conduct every order of your fellow-subjects have a right to exclaim! The merchant may say to you—the constitution. ‘alist may say to you—the American may say to youand I, I now say, and say to your beard, sir," you are not an honest man!"
THE MORMON WIDOIVER'S LAMENT.
From “ The Galaxy."
And she is dead! and slie is dead!
My multitudinous bride!
Her many forms beside.
Shall fondly rest in mine;
My loving arms shall twine.
For she is dead; and from those eyes
Of black, and blue, and gray,
The light has passed away.
Are mingled with my own,
Are inotherless and lone.
And apoplexy, too ;
And dread tic doloureux.
And even then she thought of me,
And sought my grief to quell; And summoned me beside her beds
To say a last farewell. “Good-by, dear John,” she feebly said ;
“I'm going soon,” said she; “But, oh! don't marry Widow Smith,
And, oh, don't mourn for me!
Too many, far, for you ;
And quite designing, too. “And, John, don't leave your flannels off;
And don't catch cold, my dear ; Don't die of grief, but calmly live, —
Your children need you here.
I'd rather be alone;
You'll stay away, my own?"
And fell asleep and died ;
My ten times triple bride.
I know my tears are rude;
He can't feel fortitude.
Thou wert a model wife!
Too many for this life !
Or hear each other cry ;
And sing the lullaby.
I can't get on alone ;
You don't know how they've grown!
Your souls are free from pain; I must relieve my own despair,
And try my luck again.
HUMAN lives are silent teaching,
Be they earnest, mild, and true; Noble deeds are noblest preaching
From the consecrated few. Poet-Priests their anthems singing, Hero-swords on corslet ringing,
When Truth's banner is unfurled; Youthful preachers, genius gifted, Pouring forth their souls uplifted,
Till their preaching stirs the world.
Each must work as God has given
Hero hand or poet soulWork is duty, while we live in
•This weird world of sin and dole. Gentle spirits, lowly kneeling, List their white hands up appealing,
To the Throne of Heaven's King; Stronger natures, culminating In great actions, incarnating
What another can but sing.
Pure and meek-eyed as an angel,
We must strive-must agonize; We must preach the saint's evangel.
Ere we claim the saintly prize. Work for all-for work is holy; We fulfil our mission solely
When, like Heaven's arch above, Blend our souls in one emblazon, And the social diapason
Sounds the perfect chord of love.
Life is combat, life is striving,
Such our destiny belowLike a scythed chariot driving
Through an onward-pressing foe. Deepest sorrow, scorn, and trial
We are struggling in the morning
With the spirit of the night,
Lo! the eastern sky is bright.
With the sunrise into sound,
Seize the palm, nor heed the wound.
Would we strike the Idols down;
Take the Cross, and wait the Crown;
Meekly bear, but nobly try,
Speranza (Mrs. W. R. Wilde).
THE BAYONET CHARGE.
Not a sound, not a breath !
And as still as death,
All is tumult below,
Surging friend, surging foe;
Waiting so grimly.
From the valley, and drists
And a gleam now and then