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chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations. All they shall speak and say

unto thee, art thou also become weak as we? art thou be. come like unto us? Thy pomp is brought down to the

grave, and the noise of thy viols; the worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover thee. How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground which didst weaken the nations ! For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the Most High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit. They that see thee shall narrowly look upon thee, and consider thee, saying, is this the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake kingdoms; that made the world as a wilderness, and destroyed the cities thereof; that opened not the house of his prisoners ? all the kings of the nations, even all of them, lie in glory, every one in his own house. But thou art cast out of thy grave like an abominable branch, and as the raiment of those that are slain, thrust through with a sword, that go down to the stones of the pit, as a carcass trodden under feet.

ISAIAH, 14th chap.

“He stood, and measured the earth : he beheld, and drove asunder the nations; and the everlasting mountains were scattered, the perpetual hills did bow: his ways are everlasting. The mountains saw thee, and they trembled; the overflowing of the water passed by; the deep uttered his voice, and lifted up his hands on high,”

HABAKKUK, iü. 6th & 10th.

" These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty, thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then!
Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heav'ns
To us invisible, or dimly seen
In these thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodness, beyond thought, and pow'r divine.
Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light,
Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heav'n,
On earth, join all ye creatures, to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. .
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,

If better thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere,
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul,
Acknowledge him thy greater, sound bis praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st.
Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies;
And ye five other wand'ring fires that move
In mystic dance not without song, resound
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth
Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix
And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye mists and exhalations that now rise
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rise,
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rising or falling still advance his praise.
His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines,
With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Join voices all ye living souls: Ye birds,
That singing up to heaven-gate ascend,
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep;
Witness if I be silent, worn or even,
To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.
Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.

MILTON

XXI. APOSTROPHE.

Apostrophe is a figure so much like the above, that very few shades of difference are discernable. It is an address to a real person who is absent, or one dead, as though he were present and listening to us. The rules already offered, bear upon this, and all oratorical ornaments, and only require the good sense or taste of the reader to apply them.

Examples. With what spirit, and how much to the admiration of the physicians, did he bear throughout eight months his lingering in distress! With what tender attention did he study, even in the last extremity, to comfort me! And when no longer himself, how affecting was it to behold the disordered efforts of his wandering mind, wholly employed on subjects of literature! Ah! my frustrated and fallen hopes! Have I then beheld your closing eyes, and heard the last groan issue from your lips? After having embraced your cold and breathless body, how was it in my power to draw the vital air, or continue to drag a miserable life? When I had just beheld you raised by consular adoption to the prospect of all your father's honors, destined to be son-in-law to your uncle, the Prætor, pointed out by general expectation as the successful candidate for the prize of attic eloquence, in this moment of your opening honors must I lose you forever, and remain an unhappy parent, surviving only to suffer woe?

- QUINTILIAN.

With you, Agricola, we may now congratulate : you are blessed, not only because your life was a career of glory, but because you were released, when it was happiness to die. From those who attended your last moments, it is well known that you met your fate with calm serenity; willing as far as it depended on the last act of your life, that the prince should appear to be innocent. To your daughter and inyself you left a load of affliction. We have lost a parent, and, in our distress, it is now an addition to our heartfelt sorrows, that we had it not in our power to watch the bed of sickness, to sooth the langour of declining nature, to gaze upon you with earnest affection, to see the expiring glance, and receive your last embrace. Your dying words would. have been ever dear to us ; your commands we should have

treasured up, and graved them on our hearts. This sad comfort we have lost, and the wound, for that reason, pierces deeper. Divided from you by a long absence, we had lost vou four years before. Every tender office, we are well convinced, thou best of parents ! was duly performed by a most affectionate wife ; but fewer tears bedewed your cold remains; and, in the parting moment, your eyes looked up for other objects, but they looked in vain, and closed forever.

If in another world there be a pious mansion for the blessed; if, as the wisest men have thought, the soul be pot extinguished with the body; may you enjoy a state of eternal felicity! From that station behold your disconsolate family; exalt our minds from fond regret and unavailing grief, to the contemplation of your virtues. Those we must not lament; it were impiety to sully them with a tear. To cherish their memory, to embalm then with our praises, and, if our frail condition will permit, to emulate your bright example, will be the truest mark of our respect, the best tribute your family can offer. Your wife will thus preserve the memory of the best of husbands, and thus your daughter will prove her filial piety. By dwelling constantly on your words and actions, they will have an illustrious character before their eyes, and, not content with the bare image of your mortal frame, they will have, what is more valuable, the form and features of your mind. I do not mean by this to censure the custom of preserving in brass or marble the shape and stature of eminent men; but busts and statues, like their originals, are frail and perishable. The soul is formed of finer elements, and its inward form is not to be expressed by the hand of an artist with unconscious matter; our manners and our morals may in some degree trace the resemblance. All of Agricola, that gained vur love, and raised our admiration, still subsists, and will ever subsist, preserved in the minds of men, the register of ages, and the records of fame. Others who figured on the stage of life, and were the wors thies of a former day, will sink for want of a faithful historian, into the common lot of oblivion, inglorious and unremembered; whereas Agricola delineated with truth, and fairly consigned to posterity, will survive himself, and triumph over the injuries of time.”

Tacitus

XXII. ACTION.

Upon this subject, which at first sight may here appear irrelative, although in reality it is very material, the writer differs from those who have

gone before him, and by whom systems have been laid down for the movement, not only of every feature of the human face, and limb of the human form, but even their every muscle. Those systems are fallacious; for while the mind of the Tyro is busied in the consideration of how, or when, he shall point the toe, extend the arm, or knit the brow, the main spring, that very mind, which should give all-life, motion, and effect, is employed, in a worse than secondary, while the primary cause is totally neglected. After a young man of education has been well instructed in those exercises which form a part of the external accomplishments of a gentleman, fencing and dancing, for instance, but particularly the former, to acquire a just expression, action, and deportment, it will be necessary that he should leave both face and figure untrammeled, and thoroughly understand and feel his author ; then the proper expression of face, and truth of deportment in action, will, necessarily, spring out of the subject. By this procedure, he is sure to be right, for nature is never wrong. Then the monotonous habit of sawing the air, and indeed all other bad habits in action, will be avoided. If we look into real life, the true school of good acting as well as oratory, we shall find gesture rather unfrequent than redundant. An avoidance of exuberance in action, was always observable in that unrivalled ornament of the British stage, Mrs. SIDDONS.

A history of language from its barbarous origin to its present perfection, and the various laborious efforts by which it has advanced, is not the object of this Essay; but, now that the materials are abundantly supplied, the author trusts that he has shown how those materials may be used for the advantage of our youth, in the display of one of the most noble structures that the genius of man can produce, or the perception of man can enjoy. The component parts of Eloquence are, sound judgment, well ar

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