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shall say out of a pious regard for Milo may be deem. ed impiety against thee--that Clodius not only lived, but were prætor, consul, dictator, rather than be witness to such a scene as this. Shall this man, then, who was born to save his country, die anywhere but in his country? Shall he not at least die in the service of his country? Will you retain the memo rials of his gallant soul, and deny his body a grave in Italy? Will any person give his voice for banishing a man from this city, whom every city on earth would be proud to receive within its wall ? Happy the country that shall receive him! ungrateful this, if it shall banish him! wretched, if it should lose him! But I must conclude ; my tears will not allow me to proceed, and Milo forbids tears to be employed in his defence. You, my Lords, I beseech and adjure, that, in your decision, you would dare to act as you think. Trust me, your fortitude, your justice, your fidelity, will more especially be approved of by him, who, in his choice of judges, has raised to the bench the bravest, the wisest, and the best of men.

Mr. Sheridan on the Increased Assessment of Taxes,

January 4, 1798.

If any minister, of brilliant talents, of splendid endowments, but actuated by principles of the most boundless and colossal ambition, raised up by influence, supported by corruption, should set at nought the rules of parliament, violate the act of appropriation, raise money without the authority of the House, and send it out of the country without the consent of parliament; if he has transgressed the constitution with impunity, if his criminality is suffered to pass even without rebuke,—this is nothing less than a radical change of system. If, by his folly and incapacity, he has raised discontents,-if, by the burdens which he has imposed to support an impolitic and ruinous system, he has alienated the minds of the

people from his government,-if, to suppress the opposition which such a state of things must naturally produce, he has had recourse to military force, and covered the country with barracks, in defiance of the constitution--such practices constitute a radical change of system. If he has distinguished his administration by severity unknown to the laws of this country,-if he has introduced new codes of sedition and treason,-if he has doomed men of talents to the horrors of transportation, the victims of harsh and rigorous sentences,-if he has laboured to vilify and to libel the conduct of juries such proceedings originate in a radical change of system. If he has used the royal prerogative in the creation of peers, not to reward merit, but converting the peerage into the regular price of base and servile support, if he has carried this abuse so far, that, were the indignant, insulted spirit of this nation roused at length to de mand justice on the crimes of which he has been guilty, he would be tried in a house of peers, where the majority of the judges were created by himselfI will tell the honourable gentleman that such a state of things must have originated in a radical change of system. Would it not be right, then, to pull down this fabric of corruption, to recall the government to its original principles, and to re-establish the constitution


its true basis? Will any set of men deny the necessity of a radical change of system, by which these evils shall be corrected, will any do this, except those who already share in its corruptions, or who at some future period expect to promote their personal interests by those very abuses which have exhausted the strength and endangered the safety of their country?

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We intended to introduce a debate on the Catholic Question, but, from want of room, we have been obliged to abandon this part of our original scheme. For the same reason, we have excluded extracts from Lord Erskine, Mr. Grattan, and other Orators. Those on the Catholic Question are principally designed to bear on the present state of society.


How Appalling the Obstacles to Merit !

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar !
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Has felt the influence of malignant star,
And wag'd with Fortune an eternal war;
Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
And Poverty's unconquerable bar,

In life's low vale remote has pin'd alone,
Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown.

And yet, the languor of inglorious days
Not equally oppressive is to all.
Him, who ne'er listened to the voice of praise,
The silence of neglect can ne'er appal.
There are, who deaf to mad Ambition's call,
Would shrink to hear the obstreperous trump of
Supremely blest, if to their portion fall [Fame;

Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim Had he, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.


These beautiful lines, and no less beautiful thoughts, make us wish, how vain soever the wish, that Beattie had dwelt longer on this introduction to his “ Minstrel.” They require, in reading, it is needless to remark, the sorrowful and melancholy tone. Those sublime souls who have experienced any of those checks to which the author alludes, will very naturally give the proper tone.

The Burial of Sir John Moore. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot

O'er the grave where our Hero was buried
We buried him darkly; at dead of night,

The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moon-beams' misty light,

And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast,

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him But he lay-like a warrior taking his rest

With his martial cloak around him!
Few and short were the prayers we said,

And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we stedfastly gazed on the face of the dead,

And we bitterly thought of the morrow-
We thought--as we hollowed his narrow bed,

And smoothed down his lonely pillowHow the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his And we far away on the billow !

[head, Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But nothing he'll reck, if they let him sleep on

In the grave where a Briton has laid him."
But half of our heavy task was done,

When the clock tolled the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun,

That the foe was suddenly firingSlowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory! We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,

But we left him-alone with his glory!

There have been several disputes about the author of these adniirable lines. They are now, we believe, very generally ascribed to the late Rev. C. Wolfe.

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