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gour to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts? -No;-you have judged, as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours.-They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended rule:-we, for our country, our altars, and our homes:-They follow an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate;-we serve a monarch whom we love,-a God whom we adore. Whenever they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress!-- Wherever they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship.--They boast they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error!-Yes they--they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride!—They offer us their protection.--Yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs-covering and devouring them!--They call on us to barter all of good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate chance of something better which they promise. -Be our plain answer this: the throne we honour is. the people's choice the laws we reverence are our brave fathers' legacy--the faith we follow teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with the hope of bliss beyond the grave.--Tell your invaders this, and tell them too, we seek no change; and least of all, such change as they would bring us.
"Tis the Divinity that stirs within us ;
[Laying his hand on his sword.]
HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON DEATH.
To be-or not to be?-that is the question.-
To sleep?--perchance to dream!-ay, there's the
and sweat under a weary life,
Marco Bozzarris, the Epaminondas of Modern Greece.
ATHENÆUM. [He fell in an attack upon the Turkish Camp at Laspi, the site of the
ancient Platae, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. His last words were~" To die for liberty is a pleasure
and not a pain.”] At midnight, in his guarded tent,
The Turk was dreaming of the hour, When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his
power; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror;
In dreams his song of triumph heard; Then wore his monarch's signet ring,
Then pressed that monarch's throne,-a king;
As Eden's garden bird.
That bright dream was his last;
with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band; “ Strike-till the last armed foe expires, Strike-for your altars and your fires, Strike-for the green graves of your sires, God-and
your native land!" They fought-like brave men, long and well,
They piled that ground with Moslem slain,
Bleeding at every vein.
And the red field was won;
Like flowers at set of sun.
Come to the mother, when she feels
Come when the blessed seals
With banquet-song, and dance, and wine,
And all we know, or dream, or fear
Of agony, are thine.
Has won the battle for the free,
The thanks of millions yet to be.
Greece nurtured in her glory's time,
Even in her own proud clime.
That were not born to die.
THOMPSON. The lovely young Lavinia once had friends; And fortune smild deceitful on her birth; For, in her helpless years depriv'd of allOf every stay-save innocence and Heaven, She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, And poor, lived in a cottage, far retir'd Among the windings of a woody vale: By solitude and deep surrounding shades, But more by bashful modesty conceal’d. Together thus they shunn’d the cruel scorn Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet From giddy passion, and low-minded pride; Almost on Nature's common bounty fed; Like the gay birds that sung them to repose, Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare. Her form was fresher than the morning rose, When the dew wets its leaves; unstain'd and pure, As is the lily, or the mountain snow: The modest virtues mingled in her eyes, Still, on the ground dejected, darting all Their humid beams into the blooming flowers: