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theory of penitentiary discipline, Pennsylvania has been the great pioneer. The fame of her penal institutions has crossed the Atlantic. They have engaged the attention of the European legislatures, who are willing to be instructed by our discoveries, in the wide domain of penal philosophy. France, England, Lower Canada, and Prussia, have shown a commendable anxiety to avail themselves of the results of these labors. Their agents have visited these shores, not ministers to our government, but ambassadors to our people. They carry back with them a part of those returns which America, in becoming a nation, had pledged herself to make to the cause of human science.

But the agency of the revolutionary principle is discernible, not merely in laying deep and broad foundations of moral and intellectual superiority, but in imparting activity, enterprise, and energy to the human character. All the departments of life bear witness to its inspiriting effect. It may be seen in the hum of the metropolis, where the instinct of busy life is visible in the stir and bustle of the jostling world. It may be seen on the river, the railway, the canal; the humble village, just rearing its aspiring head into a fancied importance, and in the solitude of rural life. These all pay homage to the principle of the revolution; they all display the effect of unfettered enterprise, and the consciousness of untrammelled freedom. Commerce has spread her sails in the remotest seas, and brought to our doors the luxuries of the most distant and opposite regions. The distant parts of a territory unexampled in extent, have been approximated by the locomotive engine and the steam-boat. Rivers presenting untoward impediments for the one, have been rendered navigable for hundreds of miles; for the other, mountains have been levelled, and valleys bade to rise, as if by the wand of an enchanter. Nature has been penetrated in her wildest recesses, and made to yield her hidden stores. The genius of Fulton could scarcely have foreseen the wonderful effects of his discovery, in ministering to our comforts, in tightening the bonds of human affinity, and knitting together, as one family, the various districts of the globe. It could scarcely have descried in the future, the navigation of the Atlantic and Pacific waters; the Mediterranean, Red Sea, and Indian Ocean; nor the impelling power of steam over the trackless wilds of the Mississippi, and the sandy desert of Suez. Yet of these, some have been realized, and of the others, time will soon witness their accomplishment.

The success of a new order of sentiments in a new hemisphere; the correction of ancient traditional abuses; the rapid strides of science; its universal diffusion by means of the press; and the multiplied facilities of intercommunication; all announce a new era in the history of the world. The influence of these is seen in the altered condition of nearly the whole face of Europe. Calmness and repugnance to change, have been succeeded by a restless and innovating spirit. New ideas of knowledge, improvement, and right, have been awakened. These are teaching to absolutism the proper dignity of human nature; they are teaching the futility of transmitting office, and rank, and privilege, by descent, without relation to merit; they are teaching that the first right of man is to be free, and the first principle of freedom is political equality.

An observer of the events which have occurred on this continent

and in Europe, during the last sixty years, would ascribe to some cause the mighty effects which have been produced. He has seen the downfall of despotism in France, succeeded by a brutality of crime, and a fierceness of cruelty, which fill him with dismay. He has beheld that same France pass through many tribulations to an elective monarchy; and now exempt from domestic disquiet, sitting down in the enjoyment of security and peace. He has seen Greece and Belgium taking their rank as nations, under liberal forms of government. He has beheld the political agitations which have shaken the rest of Europe, in the contests for freedom. He has seen the time-honored institutions of venerable England made obedient to the spirit of the age, and the practice made conformable to the theory of her government. He has beheld, in the American hemisphere, a succession of republics, modelled upon the same principles with our own, rise into existence. He beholds, even now, others attempting to throw off the European yoke, and struggling for independence. Where will the inquirer look for the origin of these stupendous events? Where will he seek the springs of that impulse which has given to the human mind a velocity so increased, a tendency so upward? He will seek it in that potential influence which has opened the rich fountains of personal and civic virtue; which has vivified and expanded the principles of knowledge; which has quickened the spirit, by enlarging the means, of international commerce; in a word, he will seek it in the revolution of 1776. I cannot more beautifully portray the expansive influence which America is destined to exert in the moral regeneration of man, than by concluding in the glowing lines of her own BRYANT:

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THE period to which the following poem relates, is the latter part of the eleventh century. The renowned leaders of the first crusade, with an army diminished more than half, in its disastrous march from Byzantium, had obtained possession of Antioch; but, with their usual improvidence, the Croises had wasted in festivity and excess the stores which had fallen into their hands. In this situation, they were besieged by KERBOGA, the Persian vizier, with the combined hosts of the Moslem world. The equipments of this immense army were on a scale of magnificence extraordinary even in the East; its numbers countless; and yet it was discomfited and utterly destroyed by comparatively a handful of half-starved Christians, animated by the religious enthusiasm which formed the grand feature of that chivalrous era, and the effects of which were sometimes almost miraculous.

BEFORE Stern Antioch's stately towers,
Were camped the Orient's banded powers,
Beneath Kerboga's sway.

Where lodged the Emir and his train,
A silken city graced the plain;
Pavilion rich and gleaming mosque,
Flaunting bazaar and gay kiosk,

And sumptuous serai.
Broad avenues of living green
Wound the light rainbow walls between;
For on the pastures smooth and wide,
Through which Orontes pours his tide,

Gleamed up that bright array:
While backward from the gorgeous van,
Far as the keenest glance might scan,
The tented myriads lay.

Amid his bearded satraps throned,
His Emir's robe with rubies zoned,
The Persian banqueted :
Spoils of the forest, stream, and fold;
Burdened the trays of massy gold,
Foamed the sherbet in goblets rare,
While burning spices on the air

Voluptuous incense shed.
But little recked the fierce vizier
Of sparkling bowl or smoking cheer;
In thought, his arm was hurling death
Among the ranks of Nazareth,

And 'neath his scowling brow
The fire of vengeful triumph shone,
Af if upon the cross o'erthrown

His foot were planted now.

And, if his spies had spoken sooth,

Men fed upon the reptiles' brood,
The warrior slew his steed for food,

Some on the dead brake fast:
Yet though the strongest 'gan to fail,
Though scarce the knight could lift his

And hope was well nigh past,
The knightly spirit soared untamed,
No craven voice surrender named,
Waved the red cross, triumphant still,
The Christian clarion, wild and shrill,
Answered the Moslem blast!
And every champion vowed his doom
Should be, in Antioch's walls a tomb,
Or victory at last!

From what ignoble germs may shoot
The growth of honor and renown;
And men forget the noxious root,
Shaking the golden fruitage down.
'T was thus in Antioch; rescue, fame,
By fraud and superstition came,

And good grew out of ill.
The nobler chafed with inward scorn,
Yet felt that strength of falsehood born,
Might lead to glory still:
They saw the hands uplifted high,
They heard the wild fanatic cry,
That shook the air, when fraud revealed
The spear* by priestly craft concealed;
They knew 't was free from sacred blood,
They knew 't was Norman steel and wood,
And felt in spirit shamed;
Yet deemed 't were well assent to yield,

Well might such thoughts seem types of While blindly superstition sealed


Well might he trust, ere long, to see

The beacon of Mount Calvary

Before the crescent bow.

And how the while, in Antioch, fared
Th' enduring remnant fate had spared,
To garrison her walls?

As fares the grass a torrid sun
Glares with unshadowed brightness on,
While falls nor dew nor blessed rain,
Its withering fibres to sustain-

So they in Antioch's halls.
Some died by famine's lingering throe,
Some the black pestilence laid low,
And some, in pangs too fierce to bear,
Fell on their falchions in despair,

And died a death like Saul's.

What policy proclaimed.

'Tis dawn! Assyria's radiant dawn!

How Eden-like the scene appears,
As daylight, with a blush, is born,
And earth, that night had caused to mourn,
Looks smiling through her tears!
And now, his golden course to run;
From the red desert, bursts the sun;
A flood of crimson light is sent
Far up the cloudless orient;
Antioch's gray bastions catch the glow,
The Persian banners flash below,

* DURING the siege, it was pretended that the spot where the lance which pierced the Saviour's side was deposited, had been pointed out by St. Andrew, in a vision. It was of course found, according to the saintly direction.

And far o'er all the listed field,
From twinkling spear and flaming shield,
The blinding beams are flung:
The while Orontes in his flight,
Seems like a messenger of light,

Shining the groves among.

Why doth yon tower, like eagle's nest,
Built on the mountain's barren crest,
That banner dark display?
That tower is Antioch's citadel,
And 'neath its walls impregnable
Are gathered all who 'scaped the fight,
When their strong city fell by night

To treachery a prey.

Yon signal streams aloft, to show
The Moslem myriads camped below,
That even now, the Latin foe

Are mustering for the fray.*

The gathering's o'er; a marshalled band
Behind the northern rampart stand,

Sheathed in their shining gear.
There knighthood towers, with ample

O'er light-armed squire, and half-armed

There stalks the priest, with armed heel,
His white robes doffed for twisted steel;
There, wrapped in many a costly fold,
Of broidered silk and cloth of gold,

Is borne the sacred spear:
High over all floats broad and free,
St. Peter's bannered blazonry.
What warrior draws his beaming blade
Beneath its apostolic shade?

Count Hugh of Vermandois!

Around him stand a princely throng,
Raimond, Boëmond, Bouillon,
Tancred, Saint Paul, Bold Normandy,
Stars of a nightly galaxy,

The brightest earth e'er saw!

Stars, but alas how dimmed and pale!
Phantoms of heroes cased in mail:
And for the vassals, though each eye
Gleams with fanatic ecstacy,
How must those shadowy columns reel,
When on them, like a storm of steel,

The Arab horse break down!
They feel no dread - they know no doubt;
Hark! to their loud defying shout!
It drowns the distant Moslem drum :
'Dogs of Mahound, we come! we come!
Before us is Jerusalem!

Above, the martyr's crown!'
The giant gates were backward cast,
But ere a foot the barriers past,
Ere yet the bugle's fateful breath
Sounded the signal trump of death,
Forth from the ranks Bouillon rode';
Oh! ne'er was warrior's heart bestowed

In more majestic form.

And though that form was wasted now,
Want, its high bearing could not bow,
Nor tame those orbs, so bright, yet deep,
Where, amid sunshine, seemed to sleep

The grandeur of the storm!

His broad chest heaved, and blazed his eye,
As from the star of victory

It caught reflected light,

As thus, while all the host was stilled,
In tones that every bosom thrilled,
He cheered them to the fight:

'Christians! your title, the proudest on earth,
Here, where ye stand, had its glorious birth:
Forth then, and strike, for the home of your name,
Death to the dogs that your birth-right would claim !

'Nobles and knights, the keen swords ye unsheath,
Render ye up to no victor but Death;

Live ye enwreathed, or, with glory illumed,

Die ye like warriors, spurred, harnessed, and plumed!

'Vassals, as warm runs the blood of the west

'Neath your jerkins of buff, as the Paladin's vest;
Deeds may ennoble the meanest that live,

Deeds shall this day mete the honors we give!

'Smite, though your arms be less strong than of yore,
GOD, in the conflict, their might shall restore;
Spears shall by HIM be like thunderbolts driven,
Swords shall leap down like the lightning from heaven!

"Winds from the East spread our standard abroad,
Think! they have swept o'er the city of God!
Blasphemous banners are fanned by their wing,
Shadowing the tomb of your Saviour and King!

'City and tomb shall be ours, and the way
Lies o'er the host ye shall conquer to-day;
Forward! and shout, above trumpet and drum,

WHEN Antioch was sacked by the Crusaders, a few soldiers of the Moslem garrison escaped to the citadel, which held out until the defeat of the beleaguering army under Kerboga. Notice of the attack was given in the manner described.

One mighty voice from all the crowd,
Answers with plaudits long and loud,
That warrior-like appeal.
Then the long lines, in solemn march,
Defile beneath the spacious arch,
Are, for a moment, shadowed there,
Then forth emerge in outer air,

A stream of silk and steel!
As Afric's serpent from its den,
In the bright sun to coil again,

Unwinds its skein of gold,

So from those walls the columns sweep,
To coil, to close - but not to sleep;
No! rather for the fatal leap,

They gather, fold on fold!

Yon bridge that spans the Orontes o'er, Sole passage, must be forced, before

The hosts in battle close; And there all marshalled, sword in hand, Three thousand mounted Paynims stand, The Croises to oppose: Down the long slope from Antioch's moat, At speed, the Latin lances charge! The post is won! their steel has smote Through tempered helm and silk surcoat, Linked mail and painted targe! The bridge is choked with Moslem dead, The stream beneath, in ripples red,

Breaks on its velvet marge.

"Tis scarce a bow-shot from the stream To where the spears of Islam gleam: On, dreadful as the red siroc, Spurs that dense phalanx to the shock; One moment lasts the fearful race, One moment, and the bow-shot's space Is passed, as 'twere a span! 'God for the Cross!' the Latins cry, 'For Mahomet!' the foe reply; Spears meet, swords flash against the sky, And Europe's peerless chivalry

Are on them, horse and man! There are a thousand lives the less; A thousand chargers, riderless,

Leap from the Persian van!

Have ye not seen the waves divide,
When some huge ship, a nation's pride,
Was launched into the deep?
So smitten, did that vast array
To Christian valor yield a way;
But, as the liquid hills rush back,
Tumultuous, on the war-ship's track,
Even so, upon the Latin rear,
With how, and scimetar, and spear,
Recoiling thousands sweep!

At every blow Earl Godfrey deals,
Dead, from his horse, a pagan reels;
Buckler and casque alike are vain,
Where Raimond's lance comes down

And where young Tancred's falchion cleaves,

The fall'n lie thick as perished leaves
In autumn's fading bower.
'Tis vain! 'tis vain! where hundreds die,
Fresh thousands still the loss supply;

New-York, August, 1838.

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'Tis night! and from 'the heavens aboon,'

Looks calmly down the solemn moon,
On what a solemn scene!
For circling leagues her beams beneath,
Is one vast crimson field of death!

Where is the morning's green?
Where is the river, pure and free,
That swept along so brilliantly?
What! is yon dull, discolored tide
The stream the sunbeams beautified?
Where is its morning sheen?
Where are the banners, gorgeous tents,
And all war's glorious ornaments?

The foeman's spoil I ween!
Where are the MEN, the proud, the strong,
Where is the mighty mail-clad throng,
Noble as light e'er looked upon,
That stood beneath the morning sun?
Pale as their plumes, and cold they lie
As their dew-silvered panoply!
Earth's proudest, what is all their fame ?
Time flies, where is their very name?
Men know not they have been!

J. B.

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