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wild-bird in spring; while her laugh, full of life, Gaiety
XVI.—THE SLAVE'S REMONSTRANCE. -Knowles. That I were dead! Oh, what is death compared to Deprecation slavery! Brutes may bear bondage—they were made for it, when Heaven set man above them! but Indignant no mark, definite and indelible, it put upon one man to mark him from another, that he should live his slave. Oh, heavy curse! To have thought, reason, Anguish judgment, feelings, tastes, passions, and conscience, like another man, and not have equal liberty to use them, but call his mood their master! Why was reflection I born with passion to be free-with faculties to use enlargement—with desires that cleave to high achievements and with sympathies attracting me to objects fair and noble,—and yet with power over Humiliation myself as little as any beast of burden? Why should I live? There are of brutes themselves that Proudly will not tame, so high in them is nature; whom the spur and lash, instead of curing, only chafe into a prouder mettle ;—that will let
kill them, ere they will suffer you to master them. I am a man,
Self-reproach and live!
XVII.- ALEXANDER'S FEAST.—Dryden. 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won by Philip's Pompous warlike son:
:-aloft, in awful state, the god-like hero sat on his imperial throne. His valiant peers Loftiness were placed around, their brows with roses and with myrtles bound: so should desertin arms be crowned. The lovely Thais, by his side, sat, like a blooming Admiration Eastern bride, inflower of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, Rapture none but the brave, none but the brave-deserves the fair.
Timotheus-placed on high amid the tuneful Delight
choir—with flying fingers touched the lyre; the trembling notes ascend the sky, and heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove, who left his blissful
seat above-such is the power of mighty Love!Solemnity
A dragon's fiery form belied the god : sublime on Surprise radiant spheres he rode.-The listening crowd
admire the lofty sound : “A present deity!” they
shout around; "A present deity!" the vaulted roofs Haughtiness rebound!— With ravished ears, the monarch hears,
assumes the god, affects to nod, land seems to shake
the spheres. Jovially The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet Musician Delight sung; of Bacchus, ever fair and ever young!—"The
jolly god in triumph comes ! sound the trumpets ! beat the drums! Flushed with a purple grace he
shows his honest face! Now, give the hautboys Rapture breath!—he comes ! he comes ! Bacchus, ever
fair and young, drinking joys did first ordain; Bacchus' blessings are a treasure; drinking is the
soldier's pleasure: rich the treasure; sweet the Increasing pleasure; sweetis pleasure, after pain!" -Soothed
with the sound, the king grew vain-fought all his
battles o’er again—and thrice he routed all his foes, 1 Playfulness and thrice he slew—the slain! Watching The Master saw the madness rise, his glowing
cheeks, his ardent eyes; and, while he heaven and Sympathy earth defied-changed his hand, and checked his
pride. He chose à mournful muse, soft pity to infuse: he sang—"Darius, great, and good! by too
severe a fate, fallen! fallen! fallen! fallen! fallen Reproachful from his high estate—and weltering in his blood !
Deserted, at his utmost need, by those his former bounty fed, on the bare earth, exposed, he lies, with not a friend to close his s!" -With downcast look the joyless Victor sat, revolving, in his altered soul, the various turns of fate below; and, now and then, a sigh he stole, and tears began to flow !
The mighty Master smiled, to see that Love was
in the next degree: 'twas but a kindred sound to Delight move; for Pity melts the mind to Love. Softly
sweet, in Lydian measures, soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. “War” he sung, “is toil and trouble;
honour, but an empty bubble; never ending, still beginning, fighting still
, and still destroying. If the world be worth thy winning, think, oh! think it worth enjoying! Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
Rapture take the good the gods provide thee!". -The many rend the skies with loud applause. So Love was crowned; but Music won the cause.
“Now, strike the golden lyre again ! a louder Strong whisper yet, and yet a louder strain ! break his bands of sleep asunder, and 'rouse him, like a rattling peal 1 Startling of thunder!” Hark! hark !—The horrid sound Energy has raised up his head, as awaked from the dead; and, amazed, he stares around ! Revenge! re- Fury venge !” Timotheus cries :-See the furies arise! see the snakes that they rear, how they hiss in their hair, and the sparkles that flash from their eyes! Behold a ghastly band, each a torch in his Horror hand! these are Grecian ghosts that in battle were slain, and, unburied, remain inglorious on the plain! Give the vengeance, due to the valiant Wild transport crew! behold! how they toss their torches on high, how they point to the Persian abodes, and glittering temples of their hostile gods!" -The Eagerness princes applaud, with a furious joy; and the King seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy; Thais led the way to light him to his prey; and, like another Delight Helen,--fired another Troy!
XVIII. -THE BARD.-Gray. “Ruin seize thee, ruthless King! Confusion on thy
imprecation banners wait; though, fanned by Conquest'scrimson wing, they mock the air with idle state! Helm, nor Contempt hauberk's twisted mail, nor even thy virtues— tyrant -shall avail, to save thy secret soul from Prophetic
threatening nightly fears; from Cambria's curse—from Cambria's tears.” Such were the sounds that, o'er the crested pride of the first Edward, scattered wild dis- Fear
as, down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side, he wound, with toilsome march, his long array. Stout Gloucester'stood aghast in speechless trance! 2" To Terror arms !” cried Mortimer, and couched his quivering lance. On a rock, whose haughty brow frowns o’er old Salemin
Conway's foaming flood, rob'd in the sable garb of woe, with haggard eyes the Poet stood : (loose, his beard and hoary hair streamed like a meteor to the troubled air;) and, with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
* Hark! how each giant oak, and desert cave, sighs Prophetic
to the torrent's awful voice beneath! O'er thee,
O King! their hundred arms they wave, revenge on Lamentation thee in hoarser murmurs breathe:-vocal no more,
since Cambria's fatal day, to high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
"Coldis Cadwallo'stongue, thathushed the stormy description
main: brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed: Mountains, ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topped head :-on dreary Arvon's shore they lie, smeared with gore, and ghastly pale: far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail: the famished eagle screams, and passes by. Dear, lost companions of my tuneful art! Dear—as the light that visits these sad eyes! dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart! ye
died amidst your dying country's cries!-No more Rejoicing I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, -a
grisly band, I see them sit! they linger yet, avengers
of their native land : with me in dreadful harmony they join, and weave, with bloody
hands, the tissue of thy line. Authority “Weave the warp,and weave the woof,—the wind.
ing sheet of Edward's race; give ample room, and verge enough, the characters of hell to trace: mark the year, and mark the night, when Severn shall re-echo with affright the shrieks of death, through Berkley's roofs that ring—shrieks of an agonizing
king! She-wolf of France—with unrelenting fangs Piteous horror that tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,-from
thee be born, who, o'er thy country, hangs, the scourge of Heaven. What terrors round him wait! Amazement in his van, with Flight combined; and
Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude, behind. Irony with
"Mighty victor! mighty lord! low on his funeral
couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford a Contempt tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warrior Joyous revenge fled? Thy son is
gone. He rests
among the dead. The swarm that in thy noon-tide beam were born ?
Joy with revenge
Gone to salute the rising Morn. Fair laughs the Loverine
description Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, while, proudly ridingo'erthe azure realm, in gallant trim the gilded vessel goos—Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's Awo sway, that, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Fill high thesparkling bowl, the rich repast pre- Command pare! Reftof a crown, heyet may share the feast:- Irony Close by the regal chair fell Thirst and Famine Joyous horror scowla balefulsmile upon their baffled guest. Heard Triumphant ye the din of battle bray, lance to lance, and horse to horse? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, and through the kindred squadrons mow their way! Ye towers of Julius-London's lasting shame!-with many a foul and midnight murder fed; revere his consort's faith, his father's fame, and spare the meek usurper's holy head. Above, below, the rose of snow, twined with the blushing foe, we spread; the bristled boar, in infant gore, wallows beneath the thorny shade. Now, Brothers, bending Revenge o'er the accursed loom, stamp we our vengeance Joy deep, and ratify his doom.
“Edward, lo! to sudden fate(Weave wethe woof. Revenge The thread is spun.)-half of thy heart we conse- Revenge crate. (The web is wove. The work is done!)Stay, oh stay! nor thus, forlorn, leave me unblessed, Entreally unpitied, here to mourn: in yon bright track, that fires the western skies, they melt—they vanish from my eyes. But oh! whatsolemn scenes on Snowdon's Surprise height descending slow their glittering skirts unroll! Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! ye unborn Entreaty with ages, crowd not on my soul! No more our long- Extreme joy lost Arthur we bewail: all hail, ye genuine Kings, Britannia's issue! hail !
“Girt with many a Baron bold, sublime their starry description fronts they rear; and gorgeous dames, and statesmen old, in bearded majesty appear. In the midst a form admiration divine! her eye proclaims her of the Briton line ; herlion-port, herawe-commanding face, attempered sweet to virgin grace! What strings symphonious tremble in the air! what strains of vocal transports round her play! Hear from the grave, great Talies Joroeste
entreating sin, hear! they breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
Narration with joy with grief
Listening with rapture