Have forged thy chain; yet while he deems thee bound, The links are shivered, and the prison walls Fall outward: terribly thou springèst fōrth, As springs the flame above a burning pile, And shoutèst to the nations, who return Thy shoutings, while the pale oppressor flies. 4. Thy birth-right was not given by human hands: Thou wert twin-born with man. In pleasant fields, While yet our race was few, thou sat'st with him, To tend the quiet flock and watch the stars, And teach the reed to utter simple airs. Thou by his side, amid the tangled wood, Didst war upon the panther and the wolf, His only foes; and thou with him didst draw The earliest furrows on the mountain side, Soft with the Deluge. Tyranny himself, The enemy, although of reverend look, Hoary with many years, and far obeyed, Is later born than thou; and as he meets The grave defiance of thine elder eye, The usurper trembles in his fastnesses. 5. Thou shalt wax stronger with the lapse of years, But he shall fade into a feebler age ; 6. Feebler, yet subtler: he shall weave his snares, With chains concealed in chaplets. Oh! not yet Of the new Earth and Heaven. But wouldst thou rest These old and friendly solitudes invite And yet the moss-stains on the rock were new, IX. 85. LIBERTY. BRYANT. LIBERTY, gentlemen, is a solemn thing—a welcome, a joyous, a glorious thing, if you please; but it is a solemn thing. A free people must be a thoughtful people. The subjects of a despot may be reckless and gay if they can. A free people must be serious; for it has to do the greatest thing that ever was done in the world-to govern itself. 2. That hour in human life is most serious, when it passes from parental control, into free manhood: then must the man bind the righteous law upon himself, more strongly than father or mother ever bound it upon him. And when a people leaves the leading-strings of prescriptive authority, and enters upon the ground of freedom, that ground must be fenced with law; it must be tilled with wisdom; it must be hållowed with prayer. The tribunal of justice, the free school, the holy church must be built there, to intrench, to defend, and to keep the sacred heritage. 3. Liberty, I repeat, is a solemn thing. The world, up to this time, has regarded it as a bòon—not as a bond. And there is nothing, I seriously believe, in the present crises of human affairs -there is no point in the great human welfare, on which men's ideas so much need to be cleared up-to be advanced-to be raised to a higher standard, as this grand and terrible responsibility of freedom. 4. In the universe there is no trust so awful as moral freedom; and all good civil freedom depends upon the use of that. But look at it. Around ĕvèry human, every rational being, is drawn a circle; the space within is cleared from obstruction, or, at least, from all coërcion; it is sacred to the being himself who stands there; it is secured and consecrated to his own responsibility. May I say it ?—God himself does not penetrate there with any absolute, any coërcive power! He compels the winds and waves to obey him; he compels animal instincts to obey him; but he does not compel man to obey. That sphere he leaves free; he brings influences to bear upon it; but the last, final, solemn, infinite question between right and wrong, he leaves to man himself. 5. Ah! instead of madly delighting in his freedom, I could imagine a man to protest, to complain, to tremble that such a tremendous prerogative' is accorded to him. But it is accorded to him; and nothing but willing obedience can discharge that solemn trust; nothing but a heroism greater than that which fights battles, and pours out its blood on its country's altar-the heroism of self-renunciation' and self-control. 4 6. Come that liberty! I invoke it with all the ardor of the poëts and orators of freedom; with Spenser' and Milton, with Hampden and Sydney,' with Rienzi and Dante,' with Hamilton and Washington, I invoke Come that liberty! come death with iron resolution. His very able "Discourses concerning Government" was a posthumous work. 1 Pre röga tive, an exclusive or peculiar privilege or right. 'Renunciation, ('nun`shi à ́shun). 3 Edmund Spenser, excepting Shakspeare, the greatest poet of his time, author of the "Faerie Queene," was born in London about 1553, where he died on the 16th of January, 1599. 4 John Hampden, celebrated for his resistance to the imposition of taxes without authority of parliament, and to the royal prerogative of Charles I., commander of a troop in the parliamentary army, was born at London in 1594, and was mortally wounded in an affair with Prince Rupert on 18th of June, 1643. 5 Algernon Sydney, second son of Robert, Earl of Leicester, England, was born about the year 1621. In early youth he fought in the ranks of the parliamentary forces. A thorough republican, he was inimical to all monarchy, and opposed to the ascendancy of Cromwell. He was abroad at the Restoration, and was permitted to return to England in 1677. For his supposed connection with the Ryehouse Plot, he was beheaded December 7th, 1683. He met it. 6 Rienzi, (re en'zě), the orator, famous in Roman history for his assumption of dictatorship in that capital, born about 1310, was distin guished by his love of the ancient republican institutions of Rome, and by his profound knowledge of antiquity. He was massacred in 1354. 'Dante, (dån ́te), the poet, author of the "Divina Commedia,” was born at Florence in 1265, and died at Ravenna, in 1321. 9 Alexander Hamilton, distinguished asa statesman, jurist, soldier, and financier, one of the ablest officers in the American Revolution, was born in the West Indies, in 1757. In 1782 he was a member of Congress from New York. In 1789, Washington. the first President, placed him at the head of the Treasury. On the death of Washington, in 1799, his rank made him commander-in-chief of the American army. He was challenged by Aaron Burr, and a duel was the consequence, in which he was mortally wounded, at the age of forty-seven. none that does not lead to that! Come the liberty that shall strike off every chain, not only of iron, and iron-law, but of painful constriction, of fear, of enslaving passion, of mad selfwill; the liberty of perfect truth and love, of holy faith and glad obedience! ORVILLE DEWEY. TEL SECTION XVI. I. 86. THE INQUIRY. weep no more? ELL me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway roar, Do ye not know some spot where mortals Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west, Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, And sighed for pity as it answered—“No.” 2. Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play, Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer-"No." Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded-"No." 4. Tell me, my secret soul;-oh! tell me, Hope and Faith, Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, A II. 87. THE DEATH OF HAMILTON. SHORT time since, and he, who is the occasion of our sorrows, was the ornament of his country. He stood cn an eminence, and glory covered him. From that eminence ho has fallen suddenly, forever fallen. His intercourse with the living world is now ended; and those who would hereafter find him, must seek him in the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which just now was the seat of friendship; there, dim and sightless, is the eye, whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with intelligence; and there, closed forever, are those lips, on whose persuasive accents we have so often, and so lately hung with transport! 2. From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there procoeds, methinks, a light, in which it is clearly seen, that those gaudy objects which men pursue are only phantoms. In this light how dimly shines the splendor of victory-how humble appears the majesty of grandeur! The bubble, which seemed to have so much solidity, has burst; and we again see, that all below the sun is vanity. 3. True, the funeral culogy has been pronounced, the sad and solemn procession has moved, the badge of mourning has already been decreed, and presently the sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpetuate the name of Hamilton, and rehearse to the passing traveler his virtues (just tributes of respect, and to the living useful); but to him, mōldering in his narrow and humble habitation, what are they? How vain! how unavailing! 4. Approach, and behold, while I lift from his sepulcher its covering! Ye admirers of his greatness! ye emulous of his talents and his fame! approach and behold him now. How pale! how silent! No martial bands admire the adroitness of his movemènts; no fascinating throng weep, and melt, and tremble at his eloquence! Amazing change! a shroud! a coîfin! a narrow, subterraneous cabin!-this is all that now remains of Hamilton! And is this all that remains of Hamilton? During a life so transitory, what lasting monument, then, can our fondèst hopes erect! |