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THE DYING GLADIATOR.--Lord Byron.

I see before me the Gladiator lie:

He leans upon his hand,—his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,
And his drooped head sinks gradually low,-
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now
The arena swims around him-he is gone,

Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretet

.

who won.

2.

He heard it, but he heeded not: his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away;
He recked not of the life he lost nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There were his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian mother,-he, their sire,
Butchered to make a Roman holiday,-

All this rushed with his blood.-Shall he expire,

*nd unavenged?—Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire

WILLIAM TELL ON SWITZERLAND.-J. S. Knowles

Once Switzerland was free! With what a pride
I used to walk these hills,-look up to Heaven,
And bless God that it was so! It was free
From end to end, from cliff to lake 't was free!
Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks,

And plough our valleys, without asking leave,
Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow
In very presence of the regal sun!

How happy was I in it, then! I loved
Its very storms. Ay, often have I sat

In my boat at night, when midway o'er the lake,
The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge
The wind came roaring,-I have sat and eyed
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head,
And think I had no master save his own.

You know the jutting cliff, round which a track
Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow
To such another one, with scanty room
For two abreast to pass? O'ertaken there
By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along,
And while gust followed gust more furiously,
As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink,

And I have thought of other lands, whose storms
Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just

Have wished me there;-the thought that mine was free
Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head,
And cried in thraldom to that furious wind,

Blow on! This is the land of liberty!

WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.-J. S. Knowles,

Ye crags
I hold to you the hands you first beheld,

and peaks, I'm with you once again!

To show they still are free. Methinks I hear

A spirit in your echoes answer me,

And bid your tenant welcome to his home
Again!-Oh! sacred forms, how proud you look!
How high you lift your heads into the sky!

How huge you are! how mighty, and how free!
Ye are the things that tower, that shine,-whose smile
Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms,
Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear
Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty,
I'm with you once again!-I call to you
With all my voice!--I hold my hands to you,
To show they still are free. I rush to you
As though I could embrace you!

-Scaling yonder peak,

I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow
O'er the abyss-his broad-expanded wings
Lay calm and motionless upon the air,
As if he floated there without their aid,
By the sole act of his unlorded will,
That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively
I bent my bow; yet kept he rounding still
His airy circle, as in the delight

Of measuring the ample range beneath

And round about; absorbed, he heeded not

The death that threatened him. I could not shoot! « 'Twas liberty!-I turned my bow aside,

And let him soar away!

THE UNION. PERORATION OF THE REPLY TO MR. HAYNE -Daniel Webster.

Mr. President, I have thus stated the reasons of my dissent to the doctrines which nave been advanced and maintained. I am conscious of having detained you, and the Senate, much too long. I was drawn into the debate, with no previous deliberation such as is suited to the discussion of so grave and important a subject But it is a subject of which my heart is full, and I have not been willing to suppress the utterance of its spontaneous sentiments.

2. I cannot, even now, persuade myself to relinquish t, without expressing once more my deep conviction, that since it respects nothing less than the Union of the States, it is of most vital and essential importance to the public happiness. I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and the preservation of our Federal Union. It is to that Union we owe our safety at home, and our consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that Union that we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most proud of our country. That Union we reached only by the discipline of our virtues in the severe school of adversity. It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign influences, these great interests immediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings, and although our territory has

stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It has been to us all a copious fountain of national, social, personal happiness. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the Union, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recesses behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below; nor could I regard him as a safe counsellor in the affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the Union should be best preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the people when it shall be broken up and destroyed. While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratify. ing prospects spread out before us, for us and our chil dren. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil God grant that, in my day at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind. When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once-glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood! Let their last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not

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