That as I have my share of sufferings borne,
I would partake thy fortune,-but thy name
And well-earned glory still remain thine own.
Think! thou hast promised that when first thy plans
Were all fulfill'd, thou would'st not then forget
My faithful services.

Mas.

I would that now

I could forget the monk who stands before me,
For he is like the accurs'd and crafty snake!-
Hence! from my sight-ne'er hast thou understood me!

Gen. Nay, friend, for thine own good I counselled thee, And merit not thine anger. I indeed

Have understood thee better than thou think'st,
But now no more must aid the vision wild
That first inspired thee. True 'twas amiable,
And showed at once a soul that could be fired
By one great thought and reigning principle,
Whether correct or false it matter'd not,-
Nor will the stream of passion pause for reason.
Thou deem'dst it greater, life to sacrifice,
Than here to use it for the weal of men;
I did encourage thee-for I foresaw

Without the visionary confidence,

That thou wert chosen the avenging scourge of Heaven, Thou wouldst not for our liberties contend;

But now as I believe the goal is won

'Tis time that I should from thy sight withdraw

The darkening veil, and from such dreams awake thee;

That in reality thou should'st rejoice,

And grasp the treasure, whereon foolishly

Thou seek'st to close thine eyes. Go, seize it boldly,
For it is thine!

Mas.

Thou, satan, get behind me!

Go from my sight-I hate and I despise thee !—

These were thy pious hopes, and I forsooth,

Was in thy hands a pipe to play upon,

And at thy music my poor soul to death

Should dance before thee! Thou hast err'd. From dreams

Thou hast indeed awoke me. While thou tear'st

The dark veil from my sight, thy mask hath fall'n;
Thou stand'st at length before me undisguised,
Of all earth's grovelling crew the most accursed.
Thou worm! thou viper! to thy native earth
Return! Away! Thou art too base for man
To tread upon. Thy words have not deceived me.
Thou scum! thou reptile!

SECTION LXXV.

EXTRACT FROM PROFESSOR CHANNING'S INAUGURAL
DISCOURSE, Dec. 8, 1919.

WE may account for the power of the ancient orator, from the effects of the false estimates which prevailed on the subject of national grandeur and happiness. Nothing was sooner upon the lips of the old republican, than his love of freedom and of his country. But what were liberty and patriotism then? Did they show themselves in a love of social order, and temperate government, and in a livelier jealousy of a domestic usurper than a foreign rival? Did they lead the citizen to value the comforts of home, the substantial improvements and ornaments of life, the solid institutions of a deliberate and virtuous commonwealth, infinitely more than his sway over other nations, that were too distant even to share his blessings, much less endanger his security? No-through all the splendour which genius has thrown over the old commonwealths, we can easily discern that the spirit of their government was thoroughly warlike-that their love of freedom was another name for ferocious lawlessness, and that their love of country cloaked a boundless ambition of power. He was the favourite who could swell the empire, multiply its resources, crowd the streets with trophies and captives, and make the world itself the prison-house of one master. Society was unsettled and irregular throughout, and seemed to be a combination for extending power, rather than establishing a prosperous security. Here, then, was room for the orator to pamper the pride of conquerors, or rouse the courage and scatter the shame of the defeated. National vanity, national ambition, were the principles he was perpetually called on to address. Were there evils in the state which required sober and thorough reform? The orator could draw the attention of the discontented to some foreign enterprise, or fix it upon a victim at home, and tempt them to waste their irritation upon an unpopular public benefactor, or upon some harmless neighbour, whose liberty gave of fence. Were there factions in the state which threatened its security? The orator was at hand to aid the designing, or rescue his country. Was the invader approaching in an hour of security or despair? The orator was called on to form alliances, negotiate with the enemy, breathe the

spirit of resistance into his countrymen, and sometimes to waste the noblest strains of human eloquence over the last struggles of ill-adjusted and ill-guarded freedom.

We

was a

But oratory, now, is said to be almost a lost art. hear constantly how it has fallen from its old supremacy, and lost its early splendour. Is this that we have learnt to despise our masters? Has their literature lost its hold upon our affections and veneration? Do we throw away their poetry and their eloquence, as the worthless ornaments of a voluptuous and decaying people? There never time when classical learning was held in juster veneration than at this day-a veneration that could be more grateful to those who inspired it. There never was a time when the disposition was stronger to make this learning practically useful; to take it from the sophist, the disputant, the overloaded, slumbering scholar, and put it into the hands of the philosopher, the soldier, the physician, the divine, the jurist, and statesman. It is the spirit of the age to turn every thing to account, and to let no good learning remain idle. How is it that eloquence has gone behind-hand? There are not more who seriously deny its uses now, than there were in the ancient commonwealths. There are

popular governments on the earth now, where ambition, and patriotism, and the free expression of our opinions, are yet countenanced and rewarded, and where honour and usefulness follow influence as surely as they did in the age of Philip or Cæsar.

SECTION LXXVI.

RAMPSINITIS—PHARAOH-MOSES.....Anonymous.

Rampsinitis. Son of the ancient word, eldest of kings, Let not the light'ning of thy wrath destroy The lowliest of thy servants, if he pray

That, in thy wisdom, thou betray not scorn

Against that God of terrors. Thou dost know him,
And Egypt trembles still, e'en midst this darkness,
At the remembered horrors of his might.

Have mercy, then, dry up thy Egypt's tears,
And let the people go!

affect me;

Pharaoh.
Their pangs
But do they mourn alone? rest I, their king,
On beds of henna flowers!-are my limbs

Refresh'd by perfumed waters!—hath the bread
Of Lotus calm'd mine hunger, or the cup
Of its cool beverage allay'd the fires
That burn within my vitals!-I too sink
With horror, famine, sickness!-But I yield
Not for myself, but them. Go, therefore, now,
Thou eye of Egypt, through this hideous gloom,
And to our presence bid this wondrous chief-
This plague-deriving Magian!

Moses.

Amram's son

Stands face to face with Pharaoh.

Phar.

Hear, son of Levi ! We do repent our anger, and entreat,

By thee, the mercy of thine angry God;

Restore us light!-Light, though before our eyes
It places thee, our foe!-Light, then, wise Magian!
Although I am not used in the tongue

Of mild entreaty, yet I do beseech thee,
If that indeed thy God within his breast
Hath shrouded the bright day, restore it back
To freedom and to Egypt;-thy reward

Shall be thine own accorded prayer. From Chemia
Depart-thou and thy people!

Moses.

Mighty lord!
Angel of darkness! throw thy mantle down,

And clothe thyself in thine own proper robe-
The vestments of bright glory;-let thy seat,
The black thick cloud wherein thou art enthroned,
Sink into chaos, at the pitying glance

Thine angel-eye doth dart upon this spot

This footstool of thy vengeance !-Rise to heaven,
And, as thou mountest, say again those words
Of might, and blessedness" Let there be light!"
And light will gladden Egypt!

Phar.

It is day! A day miraculous, and brighter far

Than hath mine eyes e'er witnessed!-Am I blind?
My senses ache!-it is the lurid flame

Of vivid lightnings that doth blast my sight!
Where art thou, Rampsinitis?—I am faint !—
The subtle slave hath kill'd me!

Our dear lord!

Ramp.
Revive, and all is well!-A moment more,
And to thy sense oppressed strength will come,
To bear the glory of the new-born day;

Look up, my lord, the Magian hath obey'd

Thy sacred will!

Phar. How pale and wan ye are !-O my people, How deeply have ye suffered! If ye come

To greet your sovereign with such looks as these,
My throne will seem the awful seat of death,
And I the crowned spectre sitting there
Encircled by the dead-accursed the cause,
These subtle dealers with us!-let them go!
To draw all nations on us, and to rain
Whene'er it pleases, all these tortures on
My own beloved land!-They say they go
To sacrifice. No more!-Well, let them go;
But I must be assured of their return,

Ere they shall quit our Egypt. Hear, thou son
Of the misguided Thermutis, depart

And pay the sacrifice which thou hast vow'd.
Go with thy people, take their wives, their babes ;
Nought ask I, as the hostage of thy faith,
The pledge of thy return, but that the flocks
Remain in Goshen, till the stranger dust
Be shaken from your feet, on Egypt's soil.

Moses. We must not honour Israel's God by sin;
He doth command that we should sacrifice;
May this be done without our flocks and herds?
We dare not go to sanctify our God,

And show him disobedience.

Ramp.

Amram's son,

Why, thus perverse, provoke the wrath of Pharaoh ?
The king says well, if honestly ye mean

To come back to your master, leave the herds
As hostage of your truth; small is the lot
Ye need for offerings; take what may suffice,
And leave the flocks in Goshen.

Rampsinitis,

Moses.
My soul is sad for thee!-Thou hast drawn down
Upon thine head the wrath of Israel's God,
Who hitherto hath spared thee. O, be silent,
Avoid the coming tempest. But for Pharaoh,

Thus much,-The herds must go; no, not one head
May stay in Goshen's valleys. They shall go,
We may not move without them.

Ramp.

I plead for thee no farther.

Now then, Levi,