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war and subjugation--the last argument to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies ? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us : they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject ? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find, which have not been already exhausted?

“Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. We have done everything that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned ; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated ; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. Our petitions have been slighted ; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded ; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope.

If we wish to be free—if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending—if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon, until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained—we must fight !—I repeat it, sir, we must fight!! An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us !

"They tell us, sir, that we are weak—unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irreso lution and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying sapinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies have bound us, hand and foot ? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God, who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to 'the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat, but in submission and

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slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable—and let it come!! I repeat it, sir, let it come!!! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace-but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north, will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle ? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take ; but as for me,” cried he, with both his arms extended aloft, his brows knit, every feature marked with the resolute purpose of his soul, and his voice swelled to its boldest note of exclamation—"give me liberty, or give me death !"

He took his seat. No murmur of applause was heard. The effect was too deep. After the trance of a moment, several members started from their seats. The cry, “To arms !" seemed to quiver on every lip, and gleam from every eye ! Richard H. Lee arose and supported Mr. Henry, with his usual spirit and elegance. But his melody was lost amidst the agitation of that ocean, which the master-spirit of the storm had lifted up on high. That supernatural voice still sounded in their ears, and shivered along their arteries. They heard, in every pause, the cry of liberty or death. They became impatient of speech—their souls were on fire for action.

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FOURTH OF JULY.

BY J. PIERPONT.

Day of glory! welcome day!
Freedom's banners greet thy ray ;
See ! how cheerfully they play

With thy morning breeze,
On the rocks where pilgrims kneeld,
On the heights where squadrons wheeld,
When a tyrant's thunder peal'd

O'er the trembling seas.

God of armies ! did thy “stars
In their courses” smite his cars,
Blast his arm, and wrest his bars

From the heaving tide?
On our standard, lo ! they burn,
And, when days like this return,
Sparkle o'er the soldiers urn

Who for freedom died.

God of peace whose spirit fills
All the echoes of our hills,
All the murmurs of our rills,

Now the storm is o'er ;

O, let freemen be our sons ;
And let future WASHINGTONS
Rise, to lead their valiant ones

Till there's war no more.

By the patriot's hallowed rest
By the warrior's gory breast,
Never let our graves be press'd

By a despot's throne ;
By the Pilgrims' toils and cares,
By their battles and their pra ers,
By their ashes-let our heirs

Bow to thee alone!

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