Qass. 
 
 
 . 
 
 Book 
 
THE VESTIBULE 
 
 OF 
 
 ELOQUENCE. 
 
 ORIGINAL ARTICLES, 
 
 ORATORICAL AND POETICAL, 
 
 As Exercises in Recitation, at the Institution. 
 Bedford Place, Russell Square. 
 
 BY JOHN THELWALL, ESQ. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF THE SCIENCE AND PRACTICE OF ELOCUTION- 
 
 4 - . ;§> 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED, FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 
 BY J. M'CREERY, BLACK HORSE COURT, 
 
 AND SOLD BY MESSRS. ARCH, CORNHILL J RIDGEWAY„ PICCADIILY 
 KENT, HOLBORN, &C. 
 
 1810. 
 
-p^j Lfhoo 
 
THE CONTENTS 
 
 OF THIS VOLUME ARE AS FOLLOWS. 
 
 1. The Plan and Terms of the Institution. 
 
 2. An Introductory Discourse on the Mature and 
 
 Objects of Elocutionary Science ...... 1 
 
 3- The Trident of Albion; an Epic Effusion on 
 
 the Death of Lord Nelson 25 
 
 4- An Oration on Martial Enthusiasm; with the 
 
 Eulogies of Epaminondas and Alfred ... 39 
 5. Odes for Recitation — 
 
 To the energies of Britain^ in behalf of the Spa- 
 nish Patriots 65 
 
 The Negro' s Prayer 75 
 
 For the Anniversary of the Humane Society . , 78 
 To Edward Rush ton, on his restoration to 
 
 Sights after a blindness of thirty years ... 81 
 
 The Song of Ali, the Lion of God 85 
 
 To Peace (written in 1801J 89 
 
 To Benevolence 94 
 
 " From Mate and Nestlings far away" .... 97 
 
 To the English Long Bow 98 
 
 To Despair 102 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 To Fulvia 104 
 
 To Dr. Paley 107 
 
 6. Two Passages translated from the first Book of 
 
 Virgil Ill 
 
 7. Extracts from The Hope of Albion . . . 115 
 
 8. Thefirst Gray Hair; a Moral Rhapsody ... 150 
 The earlier articles, having been printed for some 
 
 years, are already in the hands of many persons, and 
 may, therefore, be had separately. 
 
 The price of this book will shew that it does not aim at 
 extensive circulation. The fact is, that only a very small 
 edition has been printed of the additional articles, merely 
 for the use of the institution; and it is only pub- 
 lished, because it is the wish of the professor that every 
 thing relating to the exercises of his pupils should be open 
 to public inspection. For satisfaction on more important 
 points, the reader is referred to the Letter, just published, 
 by the same author, " To Henry Cline, Esq. on 
 imperfect developements of the Faculties, mental and 
 moral, as well as constitutional and organic ;" and to 
 the miscellaneous articles assembled in the Appendix to 
 that Letter. 
 
PLAN AND OBJECTS, &e. 
 
 1 HE imperfect state of Elocution, in this country, — so incon- 
 sistent with the state of knowledge and refinement, in every 
 other respect, — and the deficiency of grace, harmony and facility, 
 even in the tones and enunciation of our professed Instructors, 
 our Advocates and public speakers, are 'phenomena that cannot 
 have escaped the animadversion of critical observers ; and that 
 have even brought a stigma upon our language itself, for which 
 there is no other foundation ; while the frequent occurrence of 
 every species of degrading and troublesome impediment, has 
 been noticed by foreigners, as one of the unfortunate peculiari- 
 ties of the English nation. These considerations have induced 
 Mr. Thelwall to devote several years of his life, to a Theo- 
 retical and Practical Analysis of the Phenomena of Spoken 
 Language; — to a minute examination of the organization, on 
 which those Phenomena depend ; and an accurate investigation 
 of the Physiological, Rational, and Musical Principles, by which 
 the powers, both of Conversational and Oratorical Delivery, 
 may, most effectually, be regulated and improved. 
 
 Of the point of view in which these researches have led him 
 to consider the subject, the principles that form the basis 
 of his general system of Instruction, and the progressive 
 developemeut and practical operation of those principles, some 
 sketches will be found in his " Vestibule of Eloquence"-— 
 
 A 
 
2 INSTITUTION FOR THE CURE 
 
 his " Illustrations of English Rhythmus," and his " Letter to- 
 Mr.Cline, on Defective Developements of the Faculties, Mental 
 and Moral, as well as constitutional and organic ; and the treat- 
 ment of Impediments of Speech." 
 
 IMPEDIMENTS. In practical application, the system is 
 not only adapted to the ordinary purposes of superinducing a dis- 
 tinct and intelligible delivery, and to the removal of those defects, 
 usually considered under the denomination of Impediments ; but, 
 also, to the remedy of Feebleness and Dissonance of Voice ; to 
 the correction of Foreign and Provincial Accents, and every of- 
 fensive peculiarity of Tone and Enunciation : nor are even those 
 cases precluded from relief, in which there are actual Deficien- 
 cies and Malconformations, in the Natural Organs of Utterance : 
 particularly of the palate and uvula-. 
 
 To cases of this last description, hitherto universally regarded 
 as beyond all hope of remedy, he has paid, indeed,, a very parti- 
 cular attention ; several such cases having been referred to his 
 management by Surgeons and Medical practitioners of the very 
 first respectability. In every one of those his success has been 
 such as to surpass even his own most sanguine expectations ; a 
 completely intelligible distinctness having been produced in all ; 
 and where time and perseverance has not been denied, even an 
 agreeable utterance and harmonious intonation ; so that the ex- 
 pectation may confidently be encouraged, that, wherever the 
 pupil is put under proper management at a sufficiently early 
 period, a delivery so complete and perfect may be produced, as 
 scarcely to leave a vestige of peculiarity : and this without 
 the troublesome and dangerous application of any artificial organ 
 whatever. 
 
 At the same time, by a felicity, that frequently belongs 
 to the discoveries of real Science, the principles most con- 
 ducive to the obvious purposes of utility, are found to be no less 
 applicable to the highest refinements of grace and elegance ; and 
 the system of Instruction, that gives Speech to the Mute, and 
 
OF IMPEDIMENTS, &C. $ 
 
 Fluency to the convulsive Stammerer, may be applied to the im- 
 provement of all the Harmonies of Language ; to the rhythmus 
 of Poetry and elegant Composition, the easy flow of Conversa- 
 tional Eloquence, and the energies of Public Oratory. 
 
 Nor is the process adopted, either tedious or precarious. 
 The time necessary to the attainment must, of course, depend, 
 hi a considerable measure, upon the extent of accomplishment 
 desired, — the nature and degree of the impediment or habit to 
 be encountered, and the susceptibility, diligence, previous at- 
 tainments, and dispositions of the pupil : — but frequently, a 
 single quarter, and generally, a single year, — will be found 
 sufficient, for the removal of the most troublesome defects : — 
 especially, where the mental habits, of the Pupil, have been 
 such as are at all favourable to intellectual expansion, and 
 scientific and literary accomplishment. In some instances, 
 indeed (even where there were Impediments of a very formi- 
 dable description), afezv weeks have been sufficient, for attaining 
 the essential objects of tuition. Such instances, however, ought 
 rather to be regarded as the miracles of the art, than to be cal- 
 culated upon, as in the ordinary occurrence of events ; and, upon 
 the whole, it were to be wished — that every person, afflicted with 
 any serious Impediment, before he embarks at all in so impor- 
 tant an undertaking as the remedy of such a defect, should have 
 previously made up his mind to persevere, with diligence, for a 
 reasonable time, in the plans of the Institution. It is for this 
 reason (among others, sufficiently obvious,) that so marked a dif- 
 ference is made, in such cases, between the terms of shorter, 
 and of longer engagements. It is equally important to the re- 
 putation of the Science, and to the interest of the pupil, that, 
 in every case, the cure (if attempted) should be perfected and 
 confirmed ; and tho this has sometimes been accomplished 
 with a celerity surpassing the most sanguine expectation, it can- 
 not be denied — that serious, tho not insurmountable difficulties, 
 do occasionally occur ; and altho, in almost every instance (in 
 A 2 
 
4 INSTITUTION FOR THE CURE 
 
 every one, indeed, in which there has been tolerable persever- 
 ance,) the advantages once gained by any pupil of this establish- 
 ment, have been as permanent as they have been satisfactory ; 
 yet absolute security from relapse, can only reasonably be ex- 
 pected, where time and practice are suffered to confirm, what 
 science and discipline have taught. Uniform experience, how- 
 ever, has authorized the assertion — that, wherever the Student 
 has capacity, leisure and inclination, to give the same attention 
 to the subject, which other sciences, and much more frivolous 
 accomplishments require, a correct and impressive elocution is 
 universally attainable. , 
 
 Only one single instance of failure (where any reasonable time 
 has been allowed to the experiment) has occurred during the 
 whole twelve years of Mr. Thelwall's practice ; and even in this 
 instance, as far as relates to reading, the object was accomplished 
 to a degree that might have been considered as highly satisfac- 
 tory. But as nothing could arouse the mind of the Pupil in 
 question to the state of cheerful and social activity, by which 
 alone the conversational faculties can be developed, it must be 
 confessed that in this individual case very little was attained in 
 what relates to spontaneous utterance. But all circumstances 
 considered, this solitary instance can scarcely be considered as 
 impeaching the infallibility of the general system. 
 
 The difficulty, indeed, will generally be increased, in pro- 
 portion as the pupil advances towards the maturity of life : 
 tho the system and discoveries exclusively acted upon in this 
 Institution, have even been found successful in removing the im- 
 pediments of persons who were upwards of thirty, and even of 
 forty years of age. Parents, however, will do wisely, to seek 
 for proper remedies, on the first appearance of difficulty or he- 
 sitation ; since it is not to be concealed — that impediments of 
 speech frequently originate in, and still more frequently produce, 
 defects or peculiarities of a mental or moral description ; which 
 are more easily, if not more efficaciously remedied; in the earli- 
 
OF IMPEDIMENTS, &C. 5 
 
 est stages of youth and ductility, than when the passions have 
 began to exert their dominion, and the business and the plea- 
 sures of life, to complicate the malady, and distract the attention. 
 Nor let it be regarded as invidious, if it be added — that the cus- 
 tomary modes of initiating children in the first elements of lite- 
 Tature, have a lamentable tendency to aggravate, and even to 
 produce this calamity ; while the system of initiation adopted in 
 this institution, will inevitably preclude (even in instances of the 
 most unfavourable conformation,) the possibility of such an oc- 
 currence : at the same time, — that system is so methodical, 
 and proceeds upon such solid principles of reason and of nature,, 
 as cannot fail of a beneficial operation, on the understanding and 
 general faculties of the pupil. Neither ought it to be forgotten, 
 that Impediments are, in a great degree, contagious ; and that, 
 consequently, wherever they are suffered, in an individual in- 
 stance, to grow into confirmed habit, they are very apt to infect 
 the whole of the younger members of a family. What are some- 
 times called hereditary impediments, are, in reality, nothing more 
 than demonstrations of the contagious influence of early, and per- 
 haps, unconscious imitation : a circumstance, which might suggest 
 to a conscientious parent, the injustice, as well as the impolicy, of 
 sending any child infected with this malady, to any ordinary se- 
 minary ; — where, r while the customary discipline must, in all pro- 
 bability, considerably aggravate the disease, the calamity is most 
 likely to be propagated thro' a much wider circle. 
 
 Other considerations might, also, be insisted on, to evince the 
 impropriety of placing young persons afflicted with Impediments, 
 in any seminary of that description ; where, as it is utterly im- 
 possible (without manifest injustice to other pupils) that the tutor 
 should devote to them the extended portions of time and atten- 
 tion, which the performance, even of the ordinary scholastic 
 exercises must require, — the obstruction of the utterance, too 
 frequently, becomes a cause of still more calamitous deficiency. 
 Instances are not wanting, in which the intellectual powers, have 
 
O INSTITUTION FOR THE CURE 
 
 been suffered thus to languish into imbecility, till organic impe- 
 diment has been confounded with physical or mental idiocy. 
 Nor would it be difficult to demonstrate — (as has been, perhaps, 
 already sufficiently done, in the letter to Mr. Cline,) the almost 
 equal impropriety of placing the pupil who either labours under 
 an impediment, or is even absolutely speechless, without being 
 destitute of hearing — (and such cases, though rare, most un- 
 doubtedly exist) in seminaries for the deaf-born dumb ; where 
 habits must inevitably be acquired, from which the pupil whose 
 defect of utterance does not originate in deafness, should be jea- 
 lously and absolutely precluded. 
 
 To avert, effectually, the danger of these calamities, and ob- 
 viate every disadvantage, under which so numerous a class of 
 persons will be found to labour, it appeared to be indispensable, 
 that the Institution for the Cuie of Impediments, should not 
 only extend its views to every object and consideration that 
 might challenge the attention of more adult pupils, — but that it 
 should be conducted upon such a plan, that even the first rudi- 
 ments, as well as the last finishing accomplishments, and the in- 
 termediate gradations of liberal instruction, might be secured 
 within its walls. 
 
 JUNIOR PUPILS. The superintendence of Junior Pupils, 
 is therefore, undertaken by Mrs. Thelwall; who will initiate them 
 in the rudiments of the English, French, Latin and Italian Lan- 
 guages ; and, in the elements of such other parts of erudition, as 
 are necessary for the early developement of the faculties, and the 
 introduction of youth to the higher walks of scientific and literary 
 instruction. 
 
 LADIES. Three or four female Pupils (either Adults or 
 Juniors) may also be accommodated, under the immediate su- 
 perintendence of Mrs. Thelwall, in the apartments reserved for 
 the accommodation of her own daughters : where they will be 
 treated, in every respect, with maternal care and attention, and 
 
OF IMPEDIMENTS, &C. 7 
 
 assisted in every attainment and accomplishment adapted to their 
 sex and circumstances. 
 
 CLASSICS, &c. To promote still further the studies and im- 
 provement of those pupils who may have advanced beyond the 
 proper age for female instruction, the classical and scientific 
 departments are conducted (with proper assistants) by Mr. 
 Thelwall, junior, upon a plan that renders even those attainments 
 promotive of the essential object of remedying the defects of ut- 
 terance : so that the prosodies of the Greek and Latin languages 
 are made to co-operate with the demonstrated principles of 
 English Rhythmus, and the perceptions of musical inflection and 
 proportion, in remedying the impediments, and improving the 
 elocution of the pupils. Further provision is also made for the 
 ultimate accomplishment of more adult students, in every branch 
 of scholastic erudition, and elegant attainment : Classical and 
 Mathematical Teachers, of the first respectability, being pro- 
 cured, wherever such assistance is found necessary ; and proper 
 Masters for the pronunciation and critical composition of the 
 living Languages ; and for Music, Dancing, Fencing, Drawing, 
 and every species of erudition and exercise, that can contribute to 
 mental expansion, to dignity and elegance of deportment, and 
 to the appropriate graces and accomplishments of ingenuous or il- 
 lustrious youth. So that young pupils committed to the care of 
 Mrs. Thelwall, and those of more advanced years, placed under 
 the superintendence of Mr. Thelwall, may confidently expect 
 (besides the effectual remedy of their elocutionary defects) all the 
 advantages, respectively, to be secured, at a preparatory, or at a 
 classical School; together with those that might be expected in a 
 Seminary (hitherto a desideratum among our Initiatory Institu- 
 tions) for the practical completion of a manly education : a Ves- 
 tibule of Probation, between the studious retirement of the Aca- 
 demy, or the College, and the decisive intercourses of Polished, 
 or of Public Life. 
 
S INSTITUTION FOR THE CURE 
 
 FOREIGNERS, also, who are desirous of attaining the 
 idiom and pronunciation of the English Language, and of being 
 rendered familiar with the best models of English Literature, 
 without the forms and restrictions of scholastic discipline, may 
 enjoy, at once, the advantages of instruction, and the pleasures 
 of social and literary intercourse ; and Students for the Pulpit, 
 the Senate, or the Bar, — Professors of Liberal Sciences, and 
 candidates for Oratorical Distinction, in any of the eligible de- 
 partments of popular emulation, may be assisted in the prosecu- 
 tion of their respective studies, and directed in the attainment of 
 the habits and accomplishments most intimately connected with 
 their respective views. 
 
 CLERGYMEN.— For the edification of the Clerical Pupil, 
 in particular, a copy of the entire Service of the Church of 
 England has been carefully prepared, with an accurate and intel- 
 ligible notation of the quantities, pauses, tones and emphases, 
 best calculated to produce impressions correspondent with the 
 language and sentiments of that sublime composition. 
 
 BARRISTERS. — Gentlemen designed for the profession of 
 the Law (which was formerly intended to have been the profes- 
 sion of Mr. Thelwall himself) • and those who aspire, or are des- 
 tined to the rank of Senators, it is presumed, will find particular 
 advantages in this Institution : — from the opportunities it affords, 
 and the plans that are dictated, for a liberal course of preparatory 
 study, and for the acquisition or improvement of those habits of 
 impressive aud graceful oratory, which lay the foundations, or 
 complete the superstructure of professional, or of parliamentary 
 erudition ; and which, tho best to be attained as preliminaries to 
 those studies which are more strictly technical or official, may be 
 either pursued in conjunction with the ordinary attentions to pro- 
 fessional preparation, or superadded as final qualifications for the 
 commencement of the meditated career. 
 
OF IMPEDIMENTS, &C. 9 
 
 MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT.— With respect to such 
 young Noblemen or Gentlemen, as are either in Parliament, or 
 in expectation of so being, — : it will be evident, from what is said 
 in the ensuing paragraph, and from the outlines of the Courses of 
 Lectures delivered at the Institution, that particular provision is 
 made for their accommodation; and students of this particular 
 class may depend upon every attention that can be instrumental 
 either to the improvement of their oratorical powers, or the di- 
 rection of their studies, in the pursuit of such particular species 
 of information as may accord with their respective views and 
 principles. At the same time gentlemen of this description, who 
 may wish to be attended privately, either at the Institution, or at 
 their own houses, may rely upon every delicacy of precaution, 
 and all the punctilios of confidence, relative to such communica- 
 tions and circumstances, as may either indispensably or inciden- 
 tally, arise out of the intercourse requisite for the accomplish- 
 ment of the specific object. 
 
 LIBRARY. — Pupils of the two preceding classes, and the 
 house pupils in general, have the use of a select and extensive 
 Library. This collection consists of between three and four 
 thousand volumes, upwards of five hundred of which are in the 
 department of English History, (including the most esteemed 
 collections of State Papers, standard works upon Government, 
 Political economy, and Constitutional Law). The selection is at 
 least equally numerous, in the department of Poetry, Criticism 
 and Polite Literature ; besides works on Rhetoric, Logic, Ora- 
 tory and Elocution ; and such as lay in the beaten, and the more 
 untrodden paths of the profession of the Grammarian and Rhe- 
 torician ; approved editions of the Greek and Roman Classics : 
 and Books of Science, Philosophy, Natural History, Ethics, and 
 general erudition ; with complete Astronomical Apparatus, &c. 
 
 In the department of English Classics, — many portions of 
 these volumes (including the entire works of Milton, the finest 
 
10 INSTITUTION FOR THE CURE 
 
 scenes and plays of Shakspeare, and many of the entire poems 
 of Dryden, Pope, Akenside, &c, and several of the most inter- 
 esting passages and productions of the more elegant of our prose 
 writers,) have been elaborately illustrated, with a notation of the 
 quantities and prosodial qualities of the syllables, for the purpose 
 of initiating the student into a ready and perfect acquaintance with 
 the rhythmus, structure and mechanism of our language ; and of 
 demonstrating the nature and perfection of its harmonic propor- 
 tions, under circumstances of happy arrangement of its elements, 
 and a judicious and unsophisticated mode of utterance. So 
 that, at the same time that the Pupil is improving his elo- 
 cution, or prosecuting the remedy of any habitual or organic 
 defect, he may be extending his acquaintance with the English 
 language, and with the best models of composition ; and cultivat- 
 ing a taste for those innocent and elegant delights which at once 
 refine the conversation and elevate the understanding. 
 
 COMPOSITION AND ORATORY.— For the further 
 improvement of the pupils, both in the correctness of English 
 Composition, and the fluency of spontaneous Oratory, an even- 
 ing in every week, is appropriated, during the winter season, to 
 the purposes of Historical, Literary and Scientific Discussion ; at 
 which time, written Disquisitions are presented, Debates are 
 held, and Orations pronounced by the pupils, on subjects con- 
 nected with the particular objects of their respective studies and 
 pursuits : and, more particularly, on the antiquities and leading 
 events of English History. 
 
 To these 'Discussions, (at which Mr. Thelwall constantly pre- 
 sides^ — to regulate the proceedings, point out the requisite 
 sources of information, and correct, when necessary, the style 
 and manner of the respective speakers) no person can be admitted 
 (except, occasionally, the fathers or immediate guardians of the 
 pupils) who has not been regularly entered as a member of the 
 Institution, either as a domestic or as a private pupil. Gentle- 
 
OF IMPEDIMENTS, &C. 11 
 
 men of respectability, however, who require no other instruction 
 than these meetings and exercises may be expected to furnish, 
 may be entered as Oratorical Pupils only, on registering their 
 names, descriptions and piaces of residence, in the Journal of 
 the Society, and conforming to the respective regulations. 
 
 This part of the Institution may perhaps, upon consideration 
 be regarded as particularly important to gentlemen who are study- 
 ing for the Bar : The degradation into which the Societies for 
 public discussion have fallen, rendering it no longer consistent 
 with the respectability of such students to exercise their orato- 
 rical talents in those popular assemblies ; while the private So- 
 cieties that have been substituted in their place, (whatever advan- 
 tages they may have in certain respects) being resorted to only by 
 the invited friends of the speakers, who, of course, are bound by 
 partiality or politeness to gratify the self-opinion of their entertain- 
 ers ; and being directed and admonished by no competent authority, 
 have, but too much tendency to encourage the substitution of flippant 
 declamation for logical inquiry, and newspaper politics in the 
 place of philosophical investigation. The manner in which this 
 Society is conducted precludes at least these disadvantages : the 
 subjects investigated being always such as require the accuracy of 
 historical research, and as are connected not with the Party pas- 
 sions of the day, but with the historical antiquities of the country 
 — the facts that form the solid bases of legal and constitutional 
 knowledge ; while at the same time, the high point of decorum 
 is insisted upon and preserved to the full extent in which it would 
 be required before the tribunals of justice, and in the congrega- 
 tions of the senate. But for further particulars upon this head, 
 the reader is referred to the Appendix to the Letter to Mr, 
 Cline. 
 
 LECTURES. — Two or three evening Courses of Public 
 Lectures are also generally delivered at the Institution, in the 
 course of every season, — on the Science and Practice of Elocu- 
 
12 INSTITUTION IOR THE CURE 
 
 don ; on the Philosophy of English History ; on the Genius and 
 Rhythmus of the English Language ; the Study of the English 
 Classics, &c. — Tl*e publicity of these is principally designed for 
 the purpose of more animating example to the regular pupils : 
 and to increase the opportunities of innocent and profitable re- 
 creation, within the Malls of the Establishment : for which pur- 
 pose, also, several other of the arrangements are equally calcu- 
 lated. The severer studies are, likewise, occasionally relieved, 
 by private Lectures to the pupils and select classes, on various 
 interesting topics of elegant and useful literature. Lectures on 
 Astronomy, and on several branches of Natural Philosophy 
 will, also, hereafter, be delivered to the pupils, by Mr. Thel- 
 wall, junior. 
 
 DISCIPLINE. With respect to the discipline of the In- 
 stitution, it must, of necessity, be different with reference to the 
 different classes and ages of the pupils. Those who are of 
 maturer years, or who place themselves under the care of the 
 professor, can, of course, be governed only thro' the medium 
 of their discretion, and their conviction — that merely paying 
 their fees, and becoming nominal inmates of the Establishment, 
 will not secure the meditated object. Upon them, therefore, no 
 other restrictions can be placed, than such as are necessary for 
 the moral order of the family, and for preventing interruption 
 to the regular studies of the other pupils. With respect to 
 the other classes in general, (tho the strictest attention is paid 
 to all that is connected with the acquisition of knowledge, and 
 the habits of application) the regulations are, altogether, of a 
 liberal description : such as can only be practically adopted in a 
 select seminary ; and are calculated to foster the generous feeling, 
 the high spirit, and the nice sense of honour, that give dignity to 
 the character of the gentleman. The pupils constitute, in all 
 particulars of treatment and attention, a part of the family of 
 their instructors ; Mr. and Mrs. Thelwall are their constant com- 
 panions ; and consider them, in all respects, (according to their 
 
OF IMPEDIMENTS, &C 13 
 
 respective ages,) as entitled to the same attentions, encourage- 
 ments and indulgences as their own children. The sense of 
 honour and generous emulation, and the constant example of 
 studious application, in every member of the family, are the prin- 
 cipal means made use of to enforce the necessary precepts of the 
 instructor ; and, in the education of a large family of their own, 
 and of a succession of pupils intrusted to their care, neither 
 Mr. nor Mrs. T. (in one case of unparalleled refractoriness 
 alone excepted,) have ever yet found it necessary to inflict the 
 chastisement of a blow. Yet they flatter themselves that those 
 who have had opportunities of forming a judgment on the sub- 
 ject, will be ready to admit that some examples at least they may 
 boast, which, in point of customary attainments, and general 
 knowledge, need not shrink from a comparison with any pupils 
 of similar age, in any Seminary or Institution in this country. 
 
 VACATION. — The only Vacation of the Institution, is in 
 the Months of August and September ; and, even during that 
 time, Gentlemen may be superintended, as Travelling Pupils, 
 and received into the family of the Professor, at the watering 
 places, &c, visited by him during the respective seasons. Even 
 during the season of Christmas, the regular courses of Instruc- 
 tion are usually relaxed only for a single week : tho Mr. T. 
 reserves to himself the privilege (which he does not, however, 
 in general exercise) of accompanying any pupils, to whom such 
 introduction to the circles of elegant society may be deemed 
 important, for a fortnight to Bath, during that particular season. 
 
 Students, therefore, from the Universities and Public Schools, 
 may be accommodated, during the vacations of those seminaries, 
 and instructed in the principles of Oratory, Criticism and Eng- 
 lish Composition, and in other accomplishments calculated to 
 give dignity to the elevation of rank, and effective influence to 
 learning and superior talent. 
 
4 INSTITUTION FOR THE CURE 
 
 After having thus developed the plan of the Institution, it is 
 scarcely necessary to add, that for those persons who wish to 
 avail themselves, in the fullest extent, of the instructions and ad- 
 vantages it offers, the most eligible mode, is, unquestionably, 
 that of domestication: especially in those cases where impediments 
 and ungraceful habits of utterance are to be removed ; — or where 
 oratorical accomplishment, or the fluency, grace and correctness 
 of conversational delivery, is the particular object of the Student, 
 In all these cases, much is frequently to be done in the hours of 
 social relaxation, and during the cheerful intercourse of the table, 
 that cannot be fully accomplished by means of stated Lessons, 
 and the ordinary forms of instruction : and, even those, who are 
 precluded, by professional engagements, from attending to the 
 regular studies and exercises of the Institution, may, at such 
 seasons, with the assistance of a few occasional Lessons and ex- 
 planations, do much towards the removal of every difficulty of 
 utterance, and the cultivation of habits of Oratorical Facility and 
 Impressiveness. 
 
 ACCOMMODATIONS. In the Spacious Mansion to 
 which the establishment is now removed, it is presumed, that every 
 requisite accommodation will be found for the convenience of all 
 the different classes of pupils specified : distinct suits of apartments 
 being appropriated for the instruction, &c. of the senior, the ju- 
 nior, and the female Pupils, and separate Tables for the adult and 
 the younger classes ; while the extensive walks of the square in 
 front, and a spacious garden and covered Gymnasium behind, offer 
 every advantage of exercise, health, and recreation to all the 
 Members and Students of the Institution. 
 
 PRIVATE PUPILS. At the same time, it is not the in- 
 tention of Mr. Thelwall to confine the advantages of his science 
 and discoveries to those persons, whose connexions and freedom 
 from indispensable occupations, permit them to conform to such 
 
OF IMPEDIMENTS, &C. 15 
 
 arrangement. Ladies, or Gentlemen may, therefore, be attend- 
 ed, as Private Pupils, at stated hours, either individually, or in 
 classes, at the Institution, or at their own houses ; and Families, 
 (and Seminaries of the first respectability only) in the neighbour- 
 hood of the metropolis, may be visited at stated periods. 
 
 CASES OF AMENTIA, &c— Besides the several descrip- 
 tions of pupils who may be received into the Institution, or 
 otherwise regularly attended by Mr. T., there is, also, another 
 description of young persons, in behalf of whom he tenders his 
 advice, and his assistance, in directing the plans for the manage- 
 ment of their education, and the remedy of their apparent defects 
 — namely, such as independently of any obrious physical cause, 
 appear to be deficient in the developement of the moral and in- 
 tellectual faculties : many of whom, from the want of due discri- 
 mination, are censurably and unnecessarily abandoned to a mode 
 of treatment, or of neglect, that aggravates and confirms a mis- 
 fortune, which judicious treatment might redress. For his ideas 
 upon the subject of the distinction between constitutional or 
 organic, and moral and intellectual Idiotism, or derangement, 
 the reader is referred to the Letter to Mr. Cline, already quoted 
 in the present sketch. It is only necessary here to add — that ad- 
 vice, in such cases, may be had, — on the terms specified in the 
 ensuing sheets, under the head of consultations in cases of defec- 
 tive organization ; and that occasional visits will be made to any 
 family in which such calamity may happen to exist ; and direc- 
 tions given in the progress of the necessary treatment. 
 
 No. 57, West Side of Lincoln' s~Inn-Fichh 
 Feb. 12th, 1S13. 
 
THE 
 
 TRIDENT OF ALBION, 
 
 WITH AN ADDRESS 
 
 TO THE 
 
 SHADE OF JVELSOJV. 
 
 How sleep the Brave, who sink to rest 
 By all their Country's wishes blest ! 
 
 Collins. 
 
THE 
 
 TRIDENT OF ALBION, 
 
 AN EPIC EFFUSION; 
 
 AND AN 
 
 RATION ON THE INFLUENCE 
 
 OF 
 
 ELOCUTION 
 
 ON 
 
 MARTIAL ENTHUSIASM; 
 
 WITH AN 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE SHADE 
 
 OF 
 
 NELSON: 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE 
 
 LYCEUM, LIVERPOOL, 
 
 ON OCCASION OF THE LATE GLORIOUS NAVAL VICTORY. 
 
 To which is prefixed, an Introductory Discourse on the 
 Nature and Objects of Elocutionary Science. 
 
 BY JOHN THELWALL, 
 
 PROFESSOR OF THE SCIENCE AND PRACTICE OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 LIVERPOOL: 
 
 PRINTED, FOR THE AUTHOR, BY G. F. HARRIS; 
 
 AND SOLD BY It. PHILLIPS, BRIDGE-STREET, BLACK.FRIARS, LONDON 
 AND BY THE BOOKSELLERS IN LIVERPOOL. 
 1805. 
 
The Lecturer cannot omit the present opportunity 
 of inscribing his acknowledgments to the President, Vice- 
 President, Committee and Proprietors of the Lyceum; in 
 one of whose apartments Jus Second Course of Lectures in 
 Liverpool (of which the ensuing pages have constituted a 
 part) is delivered. The attentions of those gentlemen to the 
 interests of Literature and Science, manifested in the libe- 
 rality with which their room has been repeatedly conceded 
 to the use of public Lecturers, as well as the extent of their 
 growing library, and the Architectural elegance of the 
 Edifice, contribute to render that Lnstitution one of the 
 principal ornaments of a flourishing and spirited town ; 
 and will, undoubtedly, endear it to posterity. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THO the poetical portion of this little Pamphlet, appear as the 
 prominent subject in the title page, it is no affectation in the Author to 
 declare— that poetical reputation is not his object, in laying it before the 
 world. Such reputation is not to be expected from a hasty effusion, 
 poured out, almost spontaneously, on the spur of the moment, — amidst 
 the throng of interfering thoughts, which necessarily arise out of the 
 public and private duties of a laborious profession. 
 
 The publication arises, as the composition originated, from the echo 
 •f the heart to the last injunction of a departed hero. — " England expects 
 that every man should do his duty ;" and the manifestation of his feelings, 
 under the present exigencies, appeared to the Author to be a part of his. 
 To this manifestation, alone, the ensuing pages would have been restrict- 
 ed,— if it had not been apprehended, that the detached appearance of 
 these temporary effusions, might produce an erroneous impression, of the 
 nature and objects of the undertaking, with which they were, acciden- 
 tally, connected. 
 
 The Lectures on the Science and Practice of Elocution (in illustration 
 ef which the Poem and Oration were repeatedly delivered on the 
 
VI 
 
 11th, 12th, and 14th of November — the first three nights of the 
 Author's Second Course in Liverpool) have, in reality, nothing to do 
 with the popular occurrences of the day : nor, except in the present in- 
 stance, has any thing connected with such occurrences, been permitted 
 to mingle with the subject. The thoughts of the Lecturer have, for 
 several years, been flowing in a current, that leaves him neither taste 
 nor leisure for political disquisition ; and, not to interfere with the pre- 
 judices or opinions of any party, has become one of the settled principles 
 of his conduct. 
 
 One feeling, only, that can be regarded as of a political nature, he 
 
 continues to cherish, in all its vital warmth and activity : a zeal for 
 
 the independence of his country— an indignant abhorrence of the idea 
 of a foreign yoke. It was this feeling (under the influence of an enthu- 
 siasm, which the events referred to had an irresistable tendency to in- 
 spire,) which dictated the ensuing poem,— which suggested the choice 
 of the subject for the opening Oration of his present Course of Lectures, 
 and produced the particular allusions to the glorious exploits and triumph- 
 ant martyrdom of our great Naval Champion ; when arrangements and 
 subjects of a very different description, had already been announced to 
 the public. 
 
 It was the same feeling which prompted him to give still greater 
 publicity to his sentiments, at the numerous and respectable meeting of 
 the Inhabitants of Liverpool, assembled, by invitation of the Mayor, in 
 their Town Hall: — (an invitation in which, as a resident householder, 
 he, of course, considered himself included:) For tho the mite of his 
 contribution could be worthy of no regard, among the large donations, so 
 
Vll 
 
 liberally subscribed, for the Monument of our illustrious Admiral, yet 
 he flattered himself — that it might not be unacceptable, as an example of 
 that unanimity which binds every description of Englishmen, with lints 
 of adamant, to the cause of their endangered country. 
 
 The manner in which his sentiments were received, on that occasion, 
 seemed to justify this supposition: and the public testimony, was still 
 farther confirmed, by the particular acknowledgments of some gentlemen 
 of the highest estimation in the vicinage ; and the flattering declaration 
 —that they regarded the public manifestation of those sentiments as 
 calculated to be highly useful. 
 
 If, for this opinion, there should be the least foundation, — the Poem 
 and Oration here presented, can require no further apology : for the sen- 
 timents they breathe, and those addressed by their author to that respect- 
 able and numerous assemblage, are, in principle and essence, the same". 
 
 But, that the nature of the general subject (of which these effusions 
 were introduced as temporary illustrations) may be seen in its proper 
 point of view ; — that what was, in fact, only an unprecedented deviation, 
 may not be regarded as an essential part of the plan ; the probationary 
 Discourse, which preceded the first delivery of these effusions, is pre- 
 fixed : which, together with the Titles of the ensuing lectures, (to be 
 found at the end of the pamphlet,) will sufficiently evince the objects of 
 the undertaking. 
 
 In the candid appreciation of that undertaking, perhaps mankind at 
 large, may be found to have some interest ; — since (besides the attractive 
 
Vlll 
 
 accomplishments to which the name of Elocution has been generally 
 confined) the Lecturer professes — to illustrate and apply the principles 
 of a Science, that may give speech to the Dumb, and fluency to the con- 
 vulsive Stammerer. 
 
 If to this, on the present occasion, he may hope to add — that, by an 
 excusable deviation from the general tenour of his plan, he has rendered 
 it, in any respect, conducive to that patriotic enthusiasm and deter- 
 mined unanimity, without which we cannot stand, and with which we can^ 
 not fall, the reflection will gild the evening of his days, and increase his 
 attachment to those professional pursuits to which he has been long 
 devoted. 
 
 Brownlow Hill, Liverpool, 
 Dec. A, 1805. 
 
INTRODUCTORY DISCOURSE 
 
 ON THE 
 
 Mature and Objects of Elocutionary Science ; and 
 the Studies and Accomplishments connected with 
 the Faculty of Oral Expression. 
 
 lHE object of the present Course of Lectures, is 
 the improvement of the oral Language of English- 
 men, — as contradistinguished from mere graphic com- 
 position ; and the cultivation of every external grace 
 and accomplishment, with which the delivery of that 
 language should be accompanied; whether in Read- 
 ing, in Recitation, or in Spontaneous utterance. 
 
 In the prosecution of thi^ object^, it is by ^10 meaijs 
 my iiVtentioii to corifine myseli to the limits ofi former 
 example! or to taead in the^eatefo path^ of my torede- 
 
^essors.j |'X shall not satisfy myself with a mere com- 
 pilation from the works of Rhetoricians and Gram- 
 marians; or with detailing the ill-digested and incon- 
 gruous rules of Art, which, it is hazarding little to 
 assert — have more frequently been repeated than un- 
 derstood. I shall, at least, endeavour to go somewhat 
 deeper into the subject ; and (although it is my inten- 
 tion to give a popular form, and a popular colouring, 
 to every portion of thej^juiry) shall attempt to estab- 
 lish my doctrines upon the settled principles of Sci- 
 ence, and demonstrate the essential elements of Elo- 
 cutioA as a branch of\ Natural Phrlosophy.\ 
 
 In such an undertaking, — however popularly 
 treated, (and, indeed, in the outset of every scientific 
 enquiry) some definitions are indispensable: for, in 
 the laxity of general conversation, many terms become 
 indifferently and indistinctly used ; which, in the pre- 
 cision of scientific discussion, must be carefully sepa- 
 rated and placed in contradistinction : — the very ad- 
 mission of synonymies being perfectly inconsistent with 
 the progress and comprehension of Scientific Truth. 
 
 Nor is this the only point of view, in which the im- 
 portance of scientific definitions may properly be con- 
 sidered. The knowledge of words leads to the know- 
 ledge of things ; and every accurate Definition, neces- 
 
sarily, conveys to the mind some important truths of 
 the science to which it refers. 
 
 The Definitions to which it is necessary, in the 
 first instance, to call the attention of the student, are 
 those only that mark the boundaries of signification 
 assignable to three essential terms of discrimination, in 
 the modifications of the faculty of discourse, — Elo- 
 quence — Oratory — and Elocution : — terms which Ety- 
 mological refinement might, perhaps, reduce to one 
 radical meaning, but which the necessities of science 
 have converted into definite representatives of distinct, 
 though relative, ideas. 
 
 ELOQUENCE may be defined— The Art of ex- 
 pressing our thoughts and feelings, with precision, force 
 and elegance ; and of heightening the impressions of Rea- 
 son, by the colourings of imagination. 
 
 It is applicable, therefore, to the whole faculty of 
 verbal discourse ; whether oral, or written : It addresses 
 itself, by the pen, to the eye ; as well as, by the living 
 Organs, to the ear. Thus — we speak (with admitted 
 accuracy) of an eloquent Book, as freely as of an elo- 
 quent Oration; of the eloquent Buffon (alluding to 
 his celebrated work upon Natural History:) and of 
 the eloquent writings, as well as the eloquent speeches of 
 
Edmund Burke. The Apostrophe to the Queen of 
 France, is as genuine a piece of eloquence, as if it had 
 been spoken in the House of Commons. 
 
 ORATORY, on the contrary, is precise and limited, 
 in its application : and, in this respect, even popular 
 usage is pretty generally correct. It may be defined 
 — Oral Eloquence ; or the Art of communicating, by the 
 immediate action of the vocal and expressive Organs, to 
 popular, or to select assemblies, the dictates of our Reason, 
 or our Will; and the workings of our Passions, our Feel- 
 ings and our Imaginations. 
 
 Oratory, therefore, includes the idea of Eloquence : 
 for no man can be an Orator who hath not affluence 
 of thought and language. But Eloquence does not 
 necessarily include the idea of Oratory : since a man 
 may be rich in all the stores of Language and of 
 thought, without possessing the advantages of a grace- 
 ful and impressive delivery. It is, therefore, the 
 name of a more complex idea ; and includes, besides 
 the general notion of Eloquence, the practical part of 
 Elocution : — which, as it constitutes the immediate 
 and essential object of these Lectures, must be spoken 
 of more at large. 
 
 ELOCUTION may be regarded, either as a Science, 
 or as an Act. In the former signification it may be de- 
 
fined — The System of Elementary Facts and Principles, 
 by which the Phenomena of Human Utterance are ex- 
 plained, and the Rides for the just delivery of Eloquence 
 are taught; In the latter — That happy coincidence of vo- 
 cal, enunciative and gesticulative expression, by which 
 Oratorical excitement is superadded to the Eloquence of 
 Thought and Language. 
 
 In other words — Elocution is the Art, or the Act, of 
 so delivering our own thoughts and sentiments, or the 
 thoughts and sentiments of others, as not only to convey 
 to those around us (with precision, force and harmony) the 
 full purport and meaning of the ivords and sentences in 
 which those thoughts are cloathed ; but, also, to excite and 
 impress upon their minds — the feelings, the imaginations 
 and the passions, by which those thoughts are dictated; or 
 with which they should naturally be accompanied. 
 
 Elocution, therefore, (in its more ample and liberal 
 signification) is not confined to the mere exercise of 
 the Organs of Speech. It embraces the whole Theory 
 and Practice of the exterior demonstration of the in- 
 ward workings of the mind. 
 
 In short— Eloquence is the Soul, or animating 
 principle of Discourse ; and is dependent on Intellec- 
 tual Energy, and Intellectual Attainments. Elocution 
 is the embodying Form, or representative power ; and 
 
6 
 
 is the result of certain exterior accomplishments, and 
 of the cultivation of the expressive Organs. Oratory 
 is the complicated and vital existence, resulting from 
 the perfect harmony and cooperation of the two. 
 
 This vital existence, however, in its full perfec- 
 tion, is one of the choicest rarities of Nature. The 
 high and splendid accomplishments of Oratory (even 
 in the most favoured Ages, and the most favoured 
 Countries) have been attained by few; and many are 
 the Ages, many are the Countries, in which those ac- 
 complishments have never once appeared. Generations 
 have succeeded to Generations, and Centuries have 
 rolled after Centuries — during which, the intellectual 
 desert has not exhibited one solitary specimen of the 
 stately growth and flourishing expansion of Oratorical 
 Genius. 
 
 The rarity of this occurrence is, undoubtedly, in 
 part, to be accounted for, from the difficulty of the at- 
 tainment. The Palm of Oratorical perfection is only 
 to be grasped — it is, in reality, only to be desired — by 
 aspiring souls and intellects of unusual energy. It 
 requires a persevering toil — which few will be dis- 
 posed to encounter ; — a decisive intrepidity of charac- 
 ter, and an untameableness of mental ambition, which 
 very — very few can be expected to possess. It re- 
 
quires, also, conspicuous opportunities for the cultiva- 
 tion and display of its essential attributes : Opportu- 
 nities — to which few can have the fortune to be born ; 
 and which fewer still, will have the hardihood effi- 
 ciently to improve. 
 
 But, even the very few, to whom these energies, 
 and these opportunities are dispensed, are, at least, 
 impeded in their pursuit, if not frustrated of their 
 hopes, by the want of sufficient guides in the path of 
 their emulation. In those parts of Oratory, indeed, 
 which relate to the arrangements of thought, and the 
 energies of expressive language, there is no absolute 
 deficiency of existing models ; and, certainly, no pau- 
 city whatever, of pedantic Rules and Treatises. Cicero 
 and Demosthenes still continue to speak to the Eye, 
 in all the eloquence of graphic words ; and Quintil- 
 lian and Blair (like two conspicuous luminaries, in the 
 ancient and modern hemispheres of Oratorical Criti- 
 cism) illuminate the tracks of written language, and 
 may help to inform us — how Orations should be composed: 
 (In this part of Oratory, the present — and even the 
 preceding generation, have, accordingly, something 
 to boast:) But for the theory and practice of those 
 impressive exterior demonstrations, with which the 
 delivery of such Orations should be accompanied ! — to 
 
8 
 
 what systems, or to what models, can the English 
 Student appeal? 
 
 In short — Eloquence has been cultivated, with 
 considerable diligence ; but Elocution has been so 
 much neglected — that the very nature of the Science 
 seems to be entirely forgotten : — so much so, indeed, 
 — that the few fragments of antiquity, that have de- 
 scended to us, upon the subject, are evidently misun- 
 derstood, by those who have pretended to comment 
 upon them ; and many of our most learned Critics 
 have either ingenuously acknowledged, or unwarily 
 betrayed, — their total inability to comprehend some of 
 those very distinctions most indispensable to the ex- 
 pression and harmony of Oratorical delivery : — Such, 
 for example, as the musical accents, or inflections of 
 the voice in the harmonic scale ; the proportions of 
 respondent sounds and cadences, and the essential 
 contradistinctions of percussion, accent and quantity. 
 
 Is it wonderful, therefore — that, while we have so 
 many eloquent speakers, the character of an Orator (if 
 fairly appreciated) is scarcely known among us ? 
 
 After what has been said, however, — if the sublime 
 accomplishments of Oratory (as they are the noblest) 
 were the only objects of my Lectures, 1 could scarcely 
 
look for very extensive patronage. Where few can 
 he the Candidates for attainment, the remunerators 
 of Tuition must, of course, be few. But my subject is 
 not thus confined. The practical application of my 
 principles is extensive — is universal. 
 
 If Oratorical excellence be an object only to the few; 
 Elocutionary Accomplishment is certainly desirable by 
 all. There are few, indeed, to whom it would not be 
 advantageous (at least in point of mental gratification) 
 to be able to read, with expression and harmony, the 
 fine passages of our poets, or the instructive and ele- 
 gant compositions of our historians and moralists, and 
 our amusive writers : — There is, perhaps, scarcely an 
 individual who has not, occasionally, experienced the 
 advantage of delivering what he had to say, with cor- 
 rectness, ease and impressiveness ; or (lacking this ac- 
 complishment) who has not felt the disadvantages re- 
 sulting from such defect. Even in the social intercourses 
 of private life, how great are the benefits of this at- 
 tainment! — How does it multiply the sources of inno- 
 cent pleasure I — What a zest does it impart to the 
 highest, tho most familiar, of our intellectual gratifi- 
 cations ! To the favour of the Fair, it is, perhaps, (of 
 all accomplishments to which, in the gay season of 
 youth and gallantry, we can aspire) the surest pass- 
 
10 
 
 port; and, to the Fair themselves, — it might be recom- 
 mended, as an additional charm, that extends their 
 influence, and secures their dominion ; if its connexion 
 with the sweetest and most essential of Maternal Du- 
 ties, did not present it to them, in colours of more 
 amiable attraction. 
 
 Fortunately for mankind, — this accomplishment, 
 so universally to be desired, needs never to be desired 
 in vain. With those exceptions, only, which result 
 from deafness, or from mental imbecility, — I shall, I 
 think, demonstrate — that (by no greater sacrifice of 
 time and effort, than is usually devoted to less impor- 
 tant Sciences, and much more frivolous accomplish- 
 ments) correct and impressive Elocution is attainable 
 by all. 
 
 To this apparent Paradox, I am aware, it may be 
 objected — that hitherto, at least, the Instances of such 
 attainment have been exceedingly rare : — that few are the 
 Englishmen who converse with fluency and impressive 
 grace ; and fewer still, who can read with tolerable 
 harmony and propriety. Even in our Churches, the 
 sublimest passages lose their impressiveness, from the 
 imperfect manner in which they are delivered ; and 
 those very Preachers, who are most accomplished in 
 every other particular, too frequently obscure, by the 
 
11 
 
 wretchedness of their Elocution, the eloquent Dis- 
 courses they compose. 
 
 But the Causes of this, it is not difficult to dis- 
 cover. We trace them, at once, in the almost uni- 
 versal neglect of this important branch of Education. 
 Even of the professed Teachers, in this department, 
 how few are the instances — nay, where is the indivi- 
 dual — who has properly explored the extent, or the 
 principles of the Science? — The principles of the Sci- 
 ence! ! ! — Where is the individual, who, in modern 
 times, has suspected — that Science had any thing to 
 do with the subject ? It has almost been questioned 
 Whether Elocution were to be considered as an Art? 
 Excellence has been regarded as a mysterious gift of 
 Nature, or of Fortune ; — as the original and unsoli- 
 cited dispensation of a partial Providence; which no 
 education could secure, and which study and applica- 
 tion were scarcely necessary to improve. With re- 
 spect to the constituents of that Excellence, mere Taste 
 and Presentiment have been regarded as the only Arbi- 
 ters; the very Laws of inflection and proportion have 
 been denied all foundation and existence, in the utter- 
 ance of modern speech; and pronunciation, tone and 
 melody, — and even the constituent requisite of percus- 
 sive Accent (upon which the individuality, the cha- 
 
racter and the force of spoken words essentially de- 
 pend) have been abandoned to the lawless rule of 
 Fashion and Caprice. 
 
 To rescue the elements of Elocution from this state 
 of neglect and Chaos — to give form and order to its 
 constituent parts — and to facilitate the general attain- 
 ment of an accomplishment so generally useful and 
 desirable, it is necessary, in the first instance, to take, 
 at least, a cursory survey of the extent and nature of 
 the subject. 
 
 ELOCUTION, then, is partly a Science, founded 
 on ascertainable principles, and susceptible of palpable 
 demonstrations ; partly an Art, attainable by imitative ap- 
 plication and observance, and subject to such Laws as 
 jesult from comparison of general principles with 
 practical Experience; and partly an object of Taste 
 and Sentiment, dependent on acuteness of Perception^ 
 and delicacy and refinement of Feeling. 
 
 As a SCIENCE, its foundations are to be sought, 
 — First — in Physiology; — that is to say, in the Ana- 
 tomical Structure of the Elocutionary Organs, and the 
 Laws of Physical Necessity, by which their actions 
 are regulated and circumscribed: — some knowledge of 
 which seems to be indispensably requisite to the com- 
 
13 
 
 plete developement and exertion of their respective 
 powers; to the supply of accidental and occasional de- 
 ficiencies ; and to the correction of those erroneous and 
 defective modes of utterance, which, originating in 
 negligent or vicious imitation, have ripened into habi- 
 tual Impediments: Secondly — in Music, the essential 
 Laws and Accidents of which (with only one conspi- 
 cuous exception) are as applicable to Elocution as to 
 Song : — All fluent and harmonious speech, (even that 
 of the most easy and familiar conversation) as necessa- 
 rily falling into the rythmical division of musical 
 bars, and into the two generic measures of common 
 and triple time, as the warblings of the most sci- 
 entific singer on the Stage ; while several of the im- 
 pediments which most seriously obstruct and deform 
 the elocution of injudicious speakers, may be proved 
 to originate in no other cause, than the violation of 
 these musical principles ; and the consequent resist- 
 ance of those physical necessities, which limit the fa- 
 cilities of organic action ; and with which the elemen- 
 tary principles of harmonic proportion, so admirably, 
 and so mysteriously conform. In the third place, Elo- 
 cution hath also a basis in Philology — inasmuch as to 
 the philosophy of the structure and composition of 
 Language, and to the acute researches of the Ely mo. 
 
14 
 
 logist, many of those disputed questions of pronunci- 
 ation, quantity and percussive accent, which have hi- 
 therto been surrendered to the arbitrary and fluctuating 
 decisions of Fashion, ought, in reality, to be referred. 
 
 As an ART, the Laws of Elocution are partly 
 Grammatical, — as arising out of the structure and 
 arrangement of sentences, and the consequent degrees 
 of connection and relationship between the different 
 words and members of discourse ; — partly Harmonic, 
 — as connected with the practical regulation of the 
 variations and proportions of harmonic sound ; — and 
 partly Mechanical, or Experimental, — as relating to the 
 motions and positions of the respective Organs, by 
 which the varieties of vocal and enunciative expression 
 are produced. 
 
 As a matter of TASTE, it embraces, of course., 
 the consideration of such peculiar habits, of study, 
 deportment and association, as are favourable to acute- 
 ness and delicacy of susceptibility, both in the In- 
 tellectual and the Organic system, and give them their 
 peculiar bias and direction. In this point of view — 
 all the finer Arts, and all the more intellectual accom- 
 plishments, constitute essential parts of the studies of 
 the finished Elocutionist. He should have an Eye for 
 the glowing tints and flowing lines of Picture, the 
 
15 
 
 proportions of Architecture and the symmetries of 
 Statuary ; an Ear for the ravishing delights of Music ; 
 a perception of the vital graces of look and attitude and 
 motion, — beyond all that the dancing school or the 
 Opera-house can teach him ; and a Soul tremblingly 
 alive to all the enthusiasm, of Poetry, and all the 
 poignancy of Sentiment and Pathos. 
 
 But, above all things, — the individual who aspires to 
 the highest distinctions of the Elocutionary Character, 
 should cherish, with fond solicitude, the generous, the 
 tender, and the noble feelings of the heart : for it is 
 with these that he has most especially to deal: — it is 
 these, in all their shades and varieties, that it is the 
 noblest distinction of his art to regulate and to excite ; 
 and how shall he successfully impart to others, what 
 he does not himself both comprehend and feel ? 
 
 Such is the extent and nature of this neglected 
 subject — Such are the requisite studies and accomplish- 
 ments of the finished Elocutionist : — and such, accord- 
 ingly, is the course of study to which it is the object 
 of these Lectures to initiate the attentive student. 
 
 No precedent, indeed, can be found, in modern 
 times, for the claim of my science to such an ample 
 field of enquiry and illustration: but I appeal to the 
 
16 
 
 example of Classical Antiquity! — I appeal to the 
 practice of those illustrious ages — in which the en- 
 ergies of Elocution are admitted to have been most 
 manifested, and its powers most extensively felt ! — I 
 appeal to facts that stand upon record — to the reliques 
 of ancient criticism that yet remain ; and which (ill 
 understood in many particulars, as they have obviously 
 been) are yet sufficient to demonstrate — that Elocution, 
 among the ancients, was regarded as a musical Science ; 
 and that its cultivation was associated with all the arts, 
 and all the accomplishments, that gave dignity to life, 
 and were connected with the privileges of a liberal 
 education ! 
 
 In the Treatment of this extensive and interesting 
 subject, it is not my intention to overlook those ample 
 sources of amusement, which, on every hand, it so 
 abundantly presents. It will be my constant aim — to 
 make Delight the handmaid of Science, and useful 
 Information a vehicle of Recreation and Pleasure. 
 For this purpose, Variety is as indispensable as Unity; 
 and if, now and then, the excursive flights of Ima- 
 gination should be indulged, or the pursuit of inter- 
 esting illustration should deviate into miscellaneous 
 digression, the candid critic will remember — that it is 
 
17 
 
 not to Men of Science alone, that my Lectures are ad- 
 dressed ; and that my science itself must languish in 
 neglect, if I fail of popular attraction. 
 
 To enlarge, therefore, as much as possible, the 
 sphere of attractive Variety, each Lecture will, gene- 
 rally, be divided into three distinct Parts. 
 
 I. Of these, the priority will generally be given 
 to the Didactic Discourse ; or treatise on the Elements 
 of Science, and the Rules of Art. 
 
 II. The second place will, usually, be occupied by 
 Illustrations — either of the General Principles of 
 Elocutionary Taste, or of the Specific Rules of the 
 preceding Discourse ; and the Readings and Re- 
 citations, introduced for this purpose, will be, still 
 further, diversified — by Strictures, Literary and Cri- 
 tical, on Style and Composition, and on the Genius 
 and peculiar excellences of the respective Authors. 
 
 III. To these will be added, — some specimen of 
 spontaneous Elocution : — that is to say — of that species 
 of eloquence, of which the general Outline, only, is 
 prepared, and the language and embellishments are 
 trusted to the feelings of the moment. The Oratori- 
 cal and Critical Dissertations, destined to occupy this 
 portion of the Lectures, will be devoted to such Mis- 
 cellaneous Parts of the Subject, as do not require the 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 precision of Scientific arrangement; or to such topics 
 of a moral, historical, or a critical description, as may 
 tend to exemplify the importance of the Subject, and 
 to rouse a generous emulation. 
 
 o 
 
 I. The Didactic Discourses will, necessarily, com- 
 mence with the Physiological Portions of the Science. 
 In the first instance, I shall endeavour to explain — 
 the structure and offices of two efficiently distinct clas- 
 ses of Organs, upon which the Functions of Speech 
 depend: — that is to say (1) the Vocal Organs, — or 
 those portions of the Organic system employed by the 
 human (or other animated) being, in the production 
 and variation of tunable sounds; and [2) the Enun- 
 ciative Organs, — which, in the complication and per- 
 fection of their structure, are peculiar to Man, — and 
 are employed in superadding to the Sounds of Voice 
 the elementary characteristics of verbal expression. 
 The Laws of Physical Necessity, under which the 
 functions of these respective Organs are performed, 
 will, in the next place, briefly be investigated ; and 
 the mode of operation by which volition accommodates 
 itself to the restrictions inevitably imposed : an investi- 
 gation which will necessarily lead me into that curious, 
 and hitherto unfathomable, question — The cause of the 
 exclusive satisfaction received, by the human ear, from 
 
19 
 
 sounds that follow each other in certain definite and 
 simple proportions : — that is to say, by a succession 
 of cadences, in Common, or in Triple Time? From 
 Science and theory, we then advance to practice ; and 
 the Physiological portion of these Discourses, termi- 
 nates with an ample exposition of the Causes and 
 Cure of the various Impediments of Speech ; whether 
 originating in Organic Defects, or consisting, only, in 
 the Inveteracy of Erroneous Habit. 
 
 These difficulties removed, and the requisite prin- 
 ciples established, — I proceed to the Education and 
 Management of the Organs of Speech; — the expres- 
 sive powers of Voice and Enunciation; the laws of In- 
 flection, Proportion and Harmony ; and the Graces 
 and Accomplishments, by which the delivery of 
 Speech (whether original or imitative) should naturally 
 be accompanied ; and by which its influence may be 
 rendered more prompt and efficacious, on the senses, 
 the imagination and the heart. 
 
 Among these, — Physiognomical Expression, or the 
 play and sympathy of the features, and the language 
 of Gesticulation, must not be overlooked : for, as Mr. 
 Sheridan has observed, it is a palpable " delusion," to 
 suppose — " that by the help of words, alone, we can 
 ; ' communicate all that passes in the mind of Man — 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 " The Passions and the Fancy have a language of 
 " their own, utterly independent of words, by which 
 " only their exertions can be manifested and commu- 
 " nicated." Led. on Eloc. p. xii. Svo. edit. 
 
 This language, it is my intention at once to vindicate 
 and to explain; and to this Language I shall not scru- 
 ple, in my own particular practice, to appeal, — when- 
 ever the animation of the Subject, the impulse of emo- 
 tion, or the descriptive eloquence of the language, 
 seems either to dictate or require such accompaniment. 
 
 In so doing. I am perfectly aware of the Prejudice 
 I have to encounter. The Dulness and Indolence of 
 modern Elocutionists, having conspired, with other 
 causes, hereafter to be explained, to reduce almost all 
 public speaking, but that of the stage, to one sympathe- 
 tic monotony of tone and look and attitude. — the su- 
 perstition of criticism (mistaking sanction for propriety, 
 and established usage for the law of nature) has raised 
 a sort of hue and cry, against all expression of attitude 
 and feature ; as if these were mere Theatrical affecta- 
 tions, and meretricious artifices, that ought to be con- 
 fined to the mummeries for which they are supposed to 
 have been invented. 
 
 To this objection it ought to be sufficient answer, 
 simply to enquire— Whether, upon the stage, the 
 
practices alluded to, when judiciously applied, ad- 
 vance the genuine objects of Elocution ? — whether they 
 rouse, and agitate and impress ? If so — even if they 
 were inventions of Theatrical Art, the Orator would 
 be called upon to appeal to them : — for what is Ora- 
 tory, if it produce not these effects ? 
 
 But tone and look and gesture, are so far from be- 
 ing Theatrical inventions, that they are essential parts 
 of the original language of Nature ; and, perhaps, have 
 been exhibited in their highest perfection, in ages and 
 nations so little removed from original simplicity, that 
 neither Theatres nor Dramatic representations have 
 been known among them. And still does the voice of 
 Nature cry within us, to give latitude to this artless 
 language. Still, when really actuated by any strong 
 and genuine emotion, the tone becomes affected; the 
 physiognomy assumes a sympathetic expression ; and, 
 bursting through the boundaries of fashion, and the 
 chains of unnatural torpor, each limb and muscle 
 struggles with inspiring passion ; and, with efforts, 
 rude and imperfect (because untutored and unaccus- 
 tomed,) endeavours to enforce upon the eye, what the 
 words of the Orator are labouring to communicate to 
 the ear. It is true, indeed, that these vehement 
 bursts of action, are, often, sufficiently ludicrous : the 
 
22 
 
 very maxims of education that prohibit their cultiva- 
 tion, rendering them, when unavoidable, both un- 
 gracious and extravagant. That action may, at once, 
 be temperate, graceful and expressive, it is necessary 
 that it should be attentively cultivated : for, although 
 to move be the universal impulse of animated nature, 
 grace and facility are attributes of cultivation and prac- 
 tice. 
 
 These reflections are, indeed, so obvious, — and the 
 inducements to gesticulative expression are so cogent, 
 that nothing but the practice of shutting up our pub- 
 lic Orators in little boxes, or burying them in a hole, 
 chin deep, amidst a press of auditors and competitors, 
 can account for the entire neglect of this part of our 
 elocutionary education, and the ungraceful inanity 
 that pervades our public speaking. 
 
 If these observations are not sufficient to justify the 
 animated system of elocution, which the Ancients uni- 
 versally practiced, and which it is one of the objects 
 of these Lectures to revive, — I might appeal, for con- 
 firmation, to the universal analogies of nature ; — to all 
 animate, and even inanimate existence ; — to the very 
 phenomena of the Seasons, and the operations of the 
 physical universe : — I might refer to " each gentle, 
 " and each dreadful scene;" and might boldly ask — 
 
23 
 
 Whether universal Nature, in its most tremendous, and 
 its most delightful workings, does not proceed by ge- 
 neral sympathies ? — Whether any thing, but impo- 
 tent and ill-directed Art, ever attempts to operate by 
 the separate impulses of incoherent parts ? 
 
 When Thunder roars, does not the Lightning 
 flash ?■ — When Volcanoes pour forth their destroying 
 fires, and surrounding realms are deluged in the flam- 
 ing torrent ; does not subterranean thunder growl be- 
 neath ? — shakes not the earth in terrible convulsion ? 
 — heaves not the ocean its threatening billows to the 
 sky ? — and stoop not the sulphurous clouds, in cor- 
 respondent fury,— deepening the general horror ? 
 
 Change the prospect. Take some sweet summer's 
 evening — some luxuriant scene, where the nightin- 
 gale yet builds her nest. The twilight fades. The 
 moon, in silver majesty, climbs up the azure vault of 
 heaven* How tranquil ! how serene ! how soothing ! 
 How still the air ! — how soft ! Its whispers are scarcely 
 heard amidst the foliage of the aspine ; whose motions 
 would not be perceived, but for the scintillation of the 
 reflected beam. Where are the sympathies of nature 
 now ? — or, rather, Where are they not ? Glides not 
 the stream in gentler murmurs ? Do not the fields 
 repose ? — the Woodlands cease to wave their leafy 
 
24 
 
 heads ? Yes ; all is still .-—valley and hill and grove, 
 
 and all their countless tenants : save only one — 
 
 the sweetly-plaintive Philomel ! — she tunes the song 
 of sadest ecstasy: — the only song that could sympa- 
 thize with such a scene. 
 
 What are your own sensations at this instant ? Are 
 they not all in sweet abstraction ? Is not the breath 
 almost suspended ? — the voice melted to a whisper ? 
 Are not the softened pulse and the consenting heart 
 attuned to sympathetic harmony? Have they not 
 caught the contagion of the scene ? 
 
 And such is Elocution. — It hath its thunders ! it 
 must have its lightnings too : it hath its explosions ; 
 it must have its war of sympathizing elements. It 
 hath, also, its gentler moods. It would melt to pity ; 
 it would soothe with tenderness ; it would inspire with 
 gaiety ; it would warm to admiration, and to love. To 
 produce these effects, language alone is not sufficient: 
 nature's epitome, like nature's self, must sympathize 
 through every element : motion and look and attitude 
 must manifest the inspiration of genuine feeling ; and 
 every portion of the frame must be vital with expres- 
 sive eloquence. 
 
THE 
 
 TRIDENT OF ALBION: 
 
 EPIC EFFUSION 
 
 Sacred to the Glorious Cause of National 
 Independence. 
 
 ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY.' 
 
27 
 
 THE 
 
 TRIDENT OF ALBION 
 
 WHO first— who last thy Naval Thunder roll'd, 
 And drove thy Water-Chariot o'er the deep 
 Triumphant ? trident-sceptred Albion, say — 
 Glory of Ocean's race ! Unfold to view 
 The Pictur'd records of that dauntless worth, 5 
 
 Which, in full Panoply of glory, guards 
 Thy Sea-girt Strength ; — secure amidst the storm, 
 Or o'er the storm exulting : — from that day 
 When first thy Fasces, o'er the Ocean borne, 
 Controll'd the wayward Fates, even to the time 10 
 When (as with Omnipresent Valour) flew 
 From Pole to Pole — from Orient to the West, 
 Thy aweful Nelson ; still, where Danger lower'd, 
 
28 
 
 For ever found : where Nilus swells his floods, — 
 Where Transatlantic Islands, menac'd, call 15 
 
 His guardian arm ; or proud Trafalgar's Cape 
 Embays the hostile squadrons : Victor still ! — 
 In Science, as in Valour, uncompar'd, 
 And all-pervading — all-controlling mind. 
 
 Unfold .'—unfold the Roll of Ages !— Let 20 
 
 The swelling scenes, in all their pomp array' d, 
 Beam on my favour' cl sight. 
 
 And, lo ! it spreads ! — 
 In tints of living light, that ne'er shall fade, 
 The pictur'd story glows. Distinct and clear, 24 
 
 Time-honour' d Triumphs, and the honour' d dead, 
 In long procession, march ; while, o'er the waves, 
 Sounds the loud Conch, and Pole to distant Pole 
 Reverberates thy fame. 
 
 CARAUSIUS first 
 (His Celtic limbs in Roman arms array'd, 
 And Cerule Robe Imperial) from thy hand 30 
 
 Receives the Trident, by his valour won, 
 When first his Britons to the war he led, — 
 The Ocean- War; and, in the glorious cause 
 Of British Independence, bade his Keels 
 Break thro the chains, by foreign Tyrants drawn 35 
 
29 
 
 Round thy indignant shores. 
 
 Next, shrin'd in light, 
 In constellated glories clad, divine ! 
 Britain's best boast, immortal ALFRED! comes; 
 His country's truest Father! at whose name 
 What knee not bows ? — Avhat head is not inclin'd 40 
 In patriot adoration? 
 
 Ah ! what woes, 
 Albion, were thine, when first his saviour hand 
 Collects thy trampled ensigns. O'er the Realm, 
 Palsied with panic horror, and abas'd 
 In servile shackles, — prowls the inebriate Dane, 45 
 Breathing annihilation : while, upborn 
 On ominous pinion, with blood-dropping beak, 
 O'er many a City sack'd, and waste Champaign, 
 The Raven screams ; and, midst her Song of Death, 
 Rapine and Rape, Pollution, and the Scourge 50 
 
 Of reckless Tyranny — (attendants sure 
 Of Foreign Subjugation) stalk at large. 
 
 The shrieks of Virgins, and the Matron's howl 
 O'er quarter'd Innocents, and Cradles, stain'd 
 With unresisted slaughters, pierce his soul, 
 Awhile in vain deploring. 
 
 But, ere long, 55 
 
 Awful he rises, — in tremendous power 
 
30 
 
 Of Arm and Mind, and strength of Patriot Worth, 
 
 Invincible ; ivhile, — with a voice, might wake 
 
 The soul of Valour from the mouldering tombs 
 
 Of time-envelop'd Ancestry, he calls 60 
 
 His hands compatriot : his compatriot bands 
 
 Hear the glad voice — that, thro each fainting breast, 
 
 Kindles reviving energy. At once, 
 
 Bursting its bonds, in giant force renew'd, 
 
 Stalks forth the Martial Realm ; Briareus like, 65 
 
 Lifting the multitudinous arm, to quell 
 
 Invading Arrogance. 
 
 The Dane is crush' d : 
 Oppression prowls no more. The Peaceful Arts 70 
 Lift up their heads and smile ; — smile to behold 
 The Virgin, in her own pure thoughts secure, 
 Stray thro the sylvan haunts ; the Mother, clasp 
 The Babe, untrembling, to her foodfull breast, 75 
 And Peace with Freedom reign. 
 
 But, these to guard, 
 Behold, the Patriot Monarch, to thy hand, 
 Resuscitated Albion, gives again 
 The Trident-Sceptre ; and, from every Port, 8 
 
 Harbour and Bay of thy indented Shore, 
 His Navy rides, triumphing. 
 
31 
 
 Can the tongue 
 Of varied Eloquence find words to tell 
 The loner succeeding glories ? Can the hand 
 Of chissell'd Artist bid the marble breathe 85 
 
 In adequate proportions, till, emboss'd 
 In living Portraiture, the long — long line 
 Of Naval Worthies rise ? Our Raleighs — who 
 With intellectual energy, inform'd 89 
 
 The Martial mass ; beaming, o'er Valour's breast, 
 The illumin'd warmth of Science I — our brave Bl akes, 
 Who first, with floating bulwarks, overaw'd 
 Embattled Promontories ; whose mural strength 
 (Till then invulnerable to naval war) 
 Shrunk in their fix'd foundations ; while the Sea, 95 
 With borrow'd thunders and wide-wasting; fires, 
 Menac'd the shores, and the deep-rooted pride 
 Of Terrene Empire shook. 
 
 Let Columns rise — 
 Let proud Pantheons spread their storied walls, 
 And give some Gleanings, to the popular gaze, 1 00 
 Of that full Harvest the Historic Muse 
 Upstores in faithful record ; but the hand 
 Of Art sinks powerless — and the o'erwearied Voice 
 Falters, exhausted, o'er the copious theme. 
 
32 
 
 Yet can my Tongue forego thy patriot praise, 105 
 Immortal DRAKE ? Can the big heart, that heaves 
 With proud impatience, at the galling thought 
 Of foreign domination, e'er resign 
 The grateful theme ? 
 
 Lo ! from those cells, abhor' d, 
 Where Papal Superstition, midst the groans 110 
 
 Of tortur'd victims, mutters o'er her spells, 
 Blasting the germs of Reason, — issues forth 
 The fierce Inquisitor. Him Philip hails, — 
 Him and his councils ; and, with Bigot Pride, 
 Prepares the vast Armada. O'er the Sea 1 15 
 
 It spreads — a floating Nation ; and foredooms 
 The approaching fall of Albion. Racks and Chains 
 And ignominious Fetters, ballast deep 
 Each threatening bark, scarce buoyant with the freight 
 Of meditated Vengeance ! 
 
 But, behold!— 120 
 
 Albion, again, the Naval Sceptre shakes, 
 And speaks in all his Thunders ! 
 
 Where are now 
 The hopes of Foreign Spoilers ? Racks and Chains 
 And Warlike preparations, and proud Fleets, 
 Misnam'd Invincible, — or deep-ingulph'd, 125 
 
 In Air exploded, or o'er Ocean strew'd. 
 
33 
 
 Proclaim the Tyrant's folly ; while brave Drake 12/ 
 Hauls, in proud triumph, up the shouting Thames, 
 Iberia's shatter'd relicks : — all that scap'd 
 The avenging tempest, and thy whelming wrath, 130 
 Pride of the fostering Ocean ! 
 
 Humbled thence, 
 The Bigot Power resigns her threatening port 
 Imperious ; nor, resurgent from the shock, 
 The martial brow, even yet, again has rear'd 
 In wonted Majesty. Nor she alone ; — 135 
 
 All Nations, by the dread example taught, 
 Have shunn'd thy vengeful shores. 
 
 But, see ! — the Gaul, 
 Inebriate with success, — and, by the pride 
 Of wide-extended frontier, urg'd to grasp 
 At Universal Sovereignty, — defies 140 
 
 All Elements, and all Examples taught 
 Of over-weening Arrogance, and cries — 
 '•' Empire is mine, alone ! — All Nations else 
 " Shall, as my vassals, at the unquestion'd nod 
 " Of my Ambition, bend the suppliant neck; 145 
 " My Will alone their Law !" 
 
 O fickle race, 
 And abject ! — even amidst thy boundless pride, 
 Most abject ! for the lust of spreading sway 
 
34 
 
 AH else resigning ! and content, thyself, 
 
 To bend beneath a Tyrant's yoke, and own 150 
 
 A foreign Master ! He, (uncurb'd by Law, 
 
 Or Ties of Nature, or what sacred else, 
 
 Good Men, or Wise have reverenc'd, tramples down 
 
 Vassal alike, or Neighbour ; and ensnares, 
 
 With perjur'd treaties, or with inroad dark 155 
 
 Of midnight depredation, whom his pride 
 
 Marks for Destruction D'Enghien orTousaint; — 
 
 In mirky forest! or in dungeon's gloom! 
 
 Where Albion now— where gasping Europe— where, 
 But for our NELSON's providential care 160 
 
 And dauntless Valour — where had been your hopes ? 
 
 For, see — portentous, o'er the Nations, glares 
 The pestilential Scourge, and breathes around 
 Dismay and Subjugation. Panic- struck, 
 The Austrian Eagle, from his powerless grasp, 165 
 Lets fall the extinguish'd Thunder. One deep groan 
 Thrills thro the Continent: and Britain hears, 
 With sympathising horror. On each brow 
 Sits dark Dismay, and heart-corroding Care, 
 And boding Apprehension. 
 
 " Shall thy fields, 
 " Fair Queen of Isles! to the Invader's hoof 171 
 
35 
 
 " Yield its soft verdure? Shall thy bleating hills 170 
 
 " And fertile vallies witness the fierce strife 
 
 " Of doubtful Carnage ? and thy beauteous dames 
 
 " Shriek in the grasp of foreign Ravishers? — 175 
 
 " Or scape pollution only thro the blood 
 
 " Of Husbands and of Brothers, in their sight 
 
 " Nobly expiring?" 
 
 While such thoughts distract, 
 Albion, thy Inland Sons — lo! thro the gloom, 
 Forth from thy darken'd Coasts, indignant flies 180 
 The Naval Thunder: and once more averts, 
 (O'er many a Sea loud pealing) the dread fate 
 Of else-devoted Europe. On thy Car 
 Of Sea-borne Triumph, lo ! the Veteran Chief, 
 By thrice twice twenty Victories renown'd, 185 
 
 Controls the Waves. Iberia feels once more, 
 Leagued with the Gaul, that every league is vain, 
 When sounds thy warrior Conch; and Gaul, that own'd, 
 From rescu'd Nilus, — that " o'er Ocean's realm 
 " Thou reign'st invincible," again bewails 190 
 
 Her impotent presumption. 
 
 From her fears 
 The rescu'd World revives; — the Sea redeems 
 The Land's disasters; and from Albion's shores 
 Ascends the Song of Triumph. 
 d 2 
 
36 
 
 See!— sublime, 
 On his own element resistless still, 195 
 
 The Ocean Monarch rides ; and, from the prow, 
 Gorgeous with recent trophies, calls aloud 
 His Martial Sons : and bids them " form, intense, 
 " With horrent front, along the guarded shore, 
 " The Patriot rampart; — firm and undismay'd; 200 
 " Prepar'd to second what his sea-born sons 
 "So nobly dare; — that (whatsoe'er betide, 
 " From chance, or covert guile, or treasur'd wrath 
 iC Of unappeased Destinies) — secure 
 " In conscious unanimity, and strength 205 
 
 " Of Arms prepar'd, and adamantine links 
 " Of love fraternal, — Britain still may stand, 
 " Free from the infamy of Foreign Bonds, — 
 " Tho all should fall beside." 
 
 Unanimous, 
 From rank to rank, thro all her kindling sons, 210 
 With deep-breath' d vows of emulation, rings 
 The shout responsive — " Tho all else should fall, 
 " Free from the infamy of Foreign Bonds, 
 " Britain shall still remain !" 
 
 But, ah! what gloom 
 Damps the proud Joy, and o'er thy awful brow 215 
 (Victorious Albion !) and fire-darting eye, 
 
37 
 
 Spreads its dark shade? — He falls! — thy Hero falls! 
 Even in the Arms of Victory, he falls ; 
 And NELSON — is a name! 
 
 Mourn, Albion mourn! 
 Mourn midst thy Triumphs. Let the generous tear, 
 The heart-heav'd sigh of pious gratitude 221 
 
 Embalm thy Champion; and thy Laurel Wreaths 
 Mingle with baneful Cypress. He is gone, — 
 Cause of thy Triumph ; in the silent Tomb, 
 With the Time-honour' d dead, for thee he sleeps. 
 He whom thrice forty Victories renown, 226 
 
 Victim himself, thy Nelson is no more ! 
 
 Mourn, Albion mourn! Nor Mersey! thou forget, 
 — Foremost of Tradeful Rivers, to deplore 
 Thy best defender ; — who, from Sea to Sea, — 230 
 From Coast to Coast, — or where Aboukir spreads 
 Her spacious bay, or where thy Western Isles 
 Tempt the proud spoiler, or thy freighted Fleets, 
 Ploughing their homeward course, with fearful keel, 
 Elude the watchful foe : — More watchful he ; 235 
 In providential valour, present still : — 
 Thy shield in every danger. 
 
 But, no more 
 His Saviour arm he spreads: no more upholds 
 
38 
 
 The Fasces of the Main; — to other hands 
 
 (Not unremindful of his last behest 240 
 
 And patriot exhortation) now resign'd. 
 
 Mourn — Mersey mourn! with every tradeful stream 
 That to the Ocean Albion's tribute pours, 
 Join the long Dirge ; and, midst yourTriumphs, mourn. 
 He who o'er every Ocean Victor rode, — 
 Victim himself, — thy Nelson is no more ! 246 
 
ORATION, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 INFLUENCE 
 
 Animated Elocution 
 
 IN AWAKENING 
 
 MARTIAL ENTHUSIASM 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 EULOGIES 
 
 OF 
 
 Epaminondas and Alfred, 
 
 AND AN 
 
 APOSTROPHE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 HEROIC SHADE 
 
 OF 
 
 NELSON. 
 
ORATION 
 
 Ire. 
 
 UN the subject of the present disquisition, it could 
 scarcely have been necessary to address an ancient au- 
 dience. The most venerated nations of antiquity, 
 were sufficiently impressed with the importance of 
 Elocutionary Accomplishment, and its influence upon 
 every thing that is connected with the Intellect, the 
 Glory and the Power of States. Every part of their 
 history, — every record of their habits, their customs 
 and their institutions, evinces their attention to the 
 cultivation of this Science. 
 
 Among the Grecian States, every thing may be 
 said to have been Elocutionary. Poems and Histories 
 were written — not only that they might become the 
 amusements of the studious and retired, but that the 
 strains of instruct ion, of sentiment and pathos, might 
 
42 
 
 be conveyed, in their proper tones, to congregated 
 auditors ; and the rich melody of a finely cultivated 
 rythmus, might be rendered obvious to the popular 
 ear. The speculations of the Philosopher, and the 
 sublime institutions of the Moralist, were not conse- 
 crated to the silent gaze of the unsocialized recluse ; 
 but were poured, in strains of vital eloquence, from 
 the bosom of the Tutor, amidst a throng of emulous 
 Pupils, — as they flocked around him, in the Porch, 
 or in the Grove, and imbibed, at once, his wisdom 
 and his animation. — Even Laws themselves, were pro- 
 mulgated, — and the obligations of social concord, and 
 the sacred zeal of patriotism, disseminated — by the 
 assistance of the Elocutionist : — who, partly from ne- 
 cessity, and partly from a conviction of the animating 
 influence of oral instruction, became the organ of all 
 communication between the enlightened and the un- 
 informed. — We hear, with astonishment, in these 
 days of drawling and monotonous inanity, — that the 
 congregated nations of Greece, at their very highest 
 festivals, — even amidst the emulous sports and page- 
 antries of the Olympic Games, could listen, all ear, to 
 the recitation of the entire Works of Homer and of 
 Hesiod; — to the long poem of Empedocles, on the 
 doctrines of Pythagoras ; and even to the elaborate 
 
43 
 
 History of Herodotus : which the author himself re- 
 peated, amidst the acclamations of the people. 
 
 But while the practical accomplishments of this 
 noble Art, were thus applied to every purpose of 
 Education, of Government, and of Delight, — all other 
 Sciences and Accomplishments seem to have been ren- 
 dered subservient to its cultivation Even the athle- 
 tic exercises of the Gymnasium, by improving the 
 elasticity of the frame, and the carriage of the body, 
 administered to the impressive grace and dignity of 
 Oratory ; and Music itself, — which (among modern 
 nations) has been little regarded, but as a source of 
 frivolous and licentious amusement, — seems, by the 
 Greeks, to have been universally studied, for its ap- 
 plication to the facilities, the grace and the impressive- 
 ness of speech ; and for the assistance they derived 
 from its theory and principles, in the melioration of 
 their Oratorical language. 
 
 Nor was the attention thus paid to Elocutionary 
 cultivation, without its adequate reward. To this may 
 be attributed, in a considerable degree, the pheno- 
 mena of those constellations of talent, that shed a 
 blaze of glory over the history of the petty states of 
 Greece : — among whom (tho so small must have been 
 the number of their educated classes) it is impossible 
 
44 
 
 to contemplate, without emotions of wonder and de- 
 light, the frequent instances of towering energy, and 
 gigantic grasp of mind. 
 
 It is, indeed, in this circumstance, of energy of 
 character, (a circumstance which the animation of an 
 elocutionary system of education is so calculated to 
 produce) that the superiority of the ancients so trans- 
 cendently appears. In the minutiae of mechanical 
 operation and experimental research, we have left 
 them, indeed, at an immeasurable distance ; and our 
 Literati are familiar with many languages more than a 
 Greek would have condescended to study. But the 
 Mind of the modern appears to be dwarfed, by the 
 very process thro which his learning is acquired ; and 
 tho our students are so much more numerous, and 
 our scholars may boast of their more extensive erudi- 
 tion, — that comprehensive dignity of soul, and daunt- 
 less consistency of original character (which constituted 
 the essence of ancient greatness) — have become com- 
 paratively rare. 
 
 But while speaking of the energies of Grecian 
 Mind, can the Elocutionist refuse the tribute of his 
 especial homage to the Intellectual Glory of Athens : — 
 of Athens, the region of Orators and Patriots ; — of 
 
45 
 
 Historians and Poets ; of Statesmen, Philosophers, and 
 Heroes ! — of Athens ! — that birth place of all existing 
 Mind ! — that centre and focus of Elocutionary energy ; 
 where its intensity most burned, and whence its bright- 
 est emanations diverged : and where the ears of the 
 very populace, seem to have become attuned to a nicety 
 of enunciative and harmonic perception, which the 
 most cultivated among us can scarcely comprehend ! 
 Enchanting Athens ! at the very mention of whose 
 name, the heart dilates, — the intellect expands, — and 
 our ideas of the dignity and essence of human nature 
 become, instinctively exalted. — With what delight do 
 we contemplate the trophies and records of thy 
 varied energies i 
 
 o 
 
 " Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs ; 
 " Thy smiling band of Arts ; thy godlike sires 
 " Of civil wisdom ; thy heroic youth, 
 "■ Warm from the fields of glory !" 
 And what was this Athens — so boundless in the 
 Ghart of Intellect ?— 
 
 " Filling so vast a space in Learning's eye !" 
 Search for her, in another Map. Let the Geogra- 
 pher delineate the magnitude of this unrivalled Sove- 
 reign of the World of Mind, and compare her pro- 
 portions, in the general Portraiture of Nations. 
 
46 
 
 " What little body, with a mighty heart!" 
 The whole territory of Attica, would scarcely ri- 
 val, in roods and perches, the individual district of 
 Yorkshire ; and for extent, population, and Com- 
 merce, — the Town and Port of Liverpool, might be 
 the Athens after which we enquire. 
 
 If, from the splendid spectacle of the triumphs 
 of Grecian Mind, we turn our contemplation to the 
 power and aggrandizement of Rome, we shall not, yet, 
 lose sight of the utilities of our science. If (instead of 
 being satisfied with those dull abridgements, that bur- 
 then the memory with mere names and dates, and un- 
 instructive catalogues of sieges and battles) we direct 
 our attention to the original historians, who " trace the 
 "fibres of the Roman strength," and render us fami- 
 liar with the character and habi of the People, — we 
 shall soon perceive, how important an engine was found 
 in Roman Oratory, for the extension of Roman domi- 
 nation. 
 
 Romulus manifested its influence over the minds 
 of a rude and incongruous multitude, while he laid the 
 foundations of the infant state ; his successors alter- 
 nately applied it to the security of their dominion, or 
 the civilization of the people ; and Julius Caesar, at 
 
47 
 
 the head of his veteran Legions, was no less indebted 
 to its energies, — whether controlling the mutinous 
 spirit of the fierce engines of his power, extending the 
 limits of a mighty nation, or trampling on its ancient 
 institutions. 
 
 An Art thus important to individuals and 
 the State, did not languish, for want of cultivation. 
 Even in those early ages when all other arts were yet 
 in embrio, Elocution seems to have been fondly che- 
 rished. While a block of unhewn marble, or of 
 wood, was carried, in their funeral processions, to re- 
 present the effigies of departed ancestors, there is suffi- 
 cient evidence that Oratory nourished in their popular 
 assemblies, and was made an instrument of governance 
 to the people. And during the best days of Roman 
 greatness, — when her Seiplos and her Marcelli pro- 
 moted alike the refinements of intellect and the glory 
 of her arms ; so attentive were these enlightened 
 people to the purity and improvement of their na- 
 tional elocution, — that it has even been affirmed — that 
 no person was permitted, in any family of ingenuous 
 race, even to fill the humble office of a nurse, who 
 had not proved her qualifications — of speaking the 
 language with grammatical propriety, and pronounc- 
 ing it with tolerable correctness and harmony. 
 
48 
 
 If such was, indeed, the attention paid by the Ro- 
 mans to Elocutionary accomplishment, — the uses to 
 which they applied it will be admitted (at least by the 
 advocates of military domination) to justify all their 
 solicitude. 
 
 By the Oratory of the Magistrates, in their po- 
 pular assemblies, the ranks of the Legions were filled, 
 with a willing soldiery ; and by Oratory, in the Camp 
 and in the field of battle, the Commanders excited the 
 courage of their troops ; and breathed, into their bo- 
 soms, that irresistable enthusiasm, — which triumphed 
 over all opposition, and made them masters of the 
 destinies of nations. 
 
 Thus did the Eloquence of the Forum prepare the 
 Triumphs of the Field : and it is scarcely hyperbolical 
 to declare — that the Thunder of the Rostrum beat 
 down the walls of hostile Cities, and annihilated the 
 Armies of opposing nations. 
 
 Nor did the glories of Rome expire but with her 
 elocutionary energy. The system of military ha- 
 rangue, and the discipline it had a tendency to invi- 
 gorate, seem to have declined together; and when, in 
 the degenerate days of the empire, — (while the barba- 
 rians were breaking in upon every hand, and every 
 symptom of debility and disorder, seemed to indicate 
 
49 
 
 approaching dissolution) — even then, — when a tempo- 
 rary gleam of energy and virtue retrieved, for awhile, 
 the lustre and reputation of her arms, and restored 
 the sinking state to a portion of its former grandeur; 
 Elocution had its share of the glory of this achieve- 
 ment. 
 
 Under these circumstances, it was, that Claudius, 
 who, in the language of Mr. Gibbon, " obtained and 
 " deserved, the glorious title of Restorer of the Ro- 
 " man World," as the first step of that meditated re- 
 form, which was to infuse new vigour into the ex- 
 hausted realm, and snatch it from impending destruc- 
 tion, revived the ancient practice of haranguing the 
 Soldiery ; and, ascending the Rostrum, in the assem- 
 bled camp, first breathed into that soldiery the desire 
 of renovated order, and the patriotic enthusiasm, which 
 rendered them the scourge of invading foes, and ter- 
 minated in the triumph of their arms, and the secu- 
 rity of their country. 
 
 Nor was the influence of Elocution, in the Gre- 
 cian states, confined to the diffusion of literary talent, 
 and the improvement of the soft arts of peace. The 
 stern profession of arms had equal obligations to the 
 inspirations of Grecian Oratory ; and, by the soul- 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 stirring voice of Eloquence, the little bands of Achai'a, 
 — of Lacedemon, Attica and Thebes, were, alternately 
 rendered invincible ; and their renowned Chieftains 
 covered with unfading laurels: while the myriad 
 armies of Persia (among whom a manly elocution 
 was never cherished, and genuine oratory could have 
 no existence,) were consumed, like stubble, in the in- 
 dignation of their wrath ; and the unwieldy state it- 
 self, (a GiaUt without sinews — a Leviathan without 
 fins !) is now only remembered, by the disgraceful de- 
 feats it suffered in. the unequal conflict. 
 
 But this, in reality, is no more than should be ex- 
 pected. The circumstances that are creative of energy 
 of mind, must be decisive in the struggle of nations. 
 For Mind is Man : and the maxim is as applicable 
 to the Camp, as to the Cabinet ; — to the shock of Ar- 
 mies, as to the confluence of Popular Assemblies, and 
 the attainments of studious genius. 
 
 Yes, Mind is Man ! — What is this form with which 
 w T e are invested? — limbs, joints, integuments, — the 
 bones that support — the muscles that move the frame? 
 — Are these the Man ?- — They are but the perishable 
 and ever-changing garment, with which he is invested. 
 The Mind — the conscious principle they enshrine, is 
 his essence and his identity ; and upon the energies 
 
51 
 
 and attributes of this, depend (under whatever circum- 
 stances) his efficient distinctions, and his power. 
 
 There are some, indeed, who, in all that relates 
 to military affairs, will dispute the application of this 
 principle : who, reducing all tactics to mere mechanic 
 art, would discard from the Camp, as perfectly super- 
 fluous, the energies of genius and the cultivation of 
 intellect. " The battalion is a mere machine," say 
 these satyrists, " best guided by mechanical impulse. 
 " — The dread of the halberts, and the cannon planted 
 " in the rear, are the best stimulants to the courage of 
 " rank and file ; and Discipline and Dissipation are 
 " the only occupations of a Soldier !" 
 
 But let me enquire of these new theorists — whence 
 they have derived their models and their facts ? 
 
 What to such maxims would have been said, by 
 any of the celebrated heroes of the ancient, or the mo- 
 dern world ? — from Cadmus (if historical record could 
 carry us so far) to Frederic the Great, of Prussia ? 
 — Had they not mind ? Did they not regard the 
 cultivation, and the energies of intellect ? 
 
 What, in particular, would have been the senti- 
 ments of those illustrious warriors, and war-directing 
 statesmen, to whom we have recently referred ? — of 
 Pericles ? who so long directed the energies of the 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 Athenian people : — of Philip of Macedon ? who laid 
 the foundations of that mighty power, which Alexan- 
 der afterwards acquired : — of Alexander himself? 
 who rose by intellectual energy ; and by dissipation 
 fell : — of Themistocles ? who defended Greece against 
 the mighty hosts of Xerxes : — or of the still more glo- 
 rious Miltiades? — who, with ten thousand brave 
 Athenians, routed upwards of two hundred thousand 
 Persians ; and drove the insolent invaders, with ter- 
 ror and devastation in their rear, before the mighty 
 tempest of that valour, which his inspiring eloquence 
 had first excited ? 
 
 What, finally, would have been the testimony of 
 the Theban Epaminondas ? who repelled the invasion 
 of the domineering Spartan ; — broke the iron sceptre 
 of that ambitious power ; and, restraining it within its 
 proper limits, asserted the menaced liberties of Greece. 
 Brave and virtuous Epaminondas! — thou prop and 
 glory of the Theban State ! — which rose by thy exer- 
 tions, — which stood only by thy efforts, and in thy fall 
 expired. — Thou, — dauntless patriot ! — who, finding 
 thy country in the very reproach of abasement, — the 
 least, in consideration, of the Grecian States ; — down- 
 trodden and despised; and threatened with subjuga- 
 tion, by an aspiring power, that grasped at universal 
 
53 
 
 dominion! — from the very calamities of this degrada- 
 tion, produced the splendour and triumph of that 
 country, and lifted it to the supremacy of the Grecian 
 League! — What wouldst thou have said to the max- 
 ims that discard the accomplishments of Intellect, and 
 the energies of Elocution, from the pursuits of Martial 
 Glory? 
 
 But his biographers have already answered this 
 question; — those biographers — who, proclaiming that 
 Epaminondas was the bravest of the human race, but 
 yet less brave than wise; that he was the wisest of 
 mankind, but was yet less wise than virtuous; have 
 concluded his eulogy, with the emphatic declaration 
 — That his eloquence did more, towards checking 
 the overweening power of Sparta, and preserving the 
 Liberties of Greece, than his Wisdom, his Valour 
 and his Virtue, all combined. 
 
 It is true, indeed, that, in the records of modern 
 heroism, the instances of Oratorical accomplishment 
 are not equally conspicuous. But this has not arisen 
 from any conviction, that the energies of intellect are 
 of no importance to the Character of a Great Com- 
 mander; but, from the unreasonable neglect into which 
 the Science of Elocution has been suffered to fall, 
 
54 
 
 among the nations of modern Europe: — a Science 
 which, tho, in reality, most especially calculated to 
 give energy to every other pursuit of genius and intel- 
 lect; was yet (from circumstances to be explained in a 
 future Lecture) suffered to remain in the torpor of 
 neglect and barbarism ; — even at that very time, when 
 all other sciences were resuscitated and cherished, by 
 the returning illumination of mankind. 
 
 Yet, even among modern conquerors, — and, (what 
 is still more glorious !) among those heroes and patriots, 
 who, in modern times, have asserted the independence 
 of their respective countries, against the tyranny of fo- 
 reign domination ; instances may be found — splendid 
 and magnificent instances! in which the energies of Ora- 
 tory have plumed the crest of Victory: — have inspired 
 the valour which has rendered the arm invincible. 
 
 Why should I speak of the eloquence of Maho- 
 met, and the enthusiasm it kindled in his infatuated 
 followers? — why of the Catholic Mussulmen — the 
 Christian Mamalukes of recent times? — With " Ma- 
 " hornet, the impostor, and impostors like Mahomet ; 
 " with Mirvan the apostate, and apostates like Mir- 
 " van;" — with the deceivers and ravagers of the uni- 
 verse, I would have nothing to do. A more splendid 
 —an irreproachable instance, comes rushing on my 
 
55 
 
 mind. An instance of heroism without oppression; 
 of courage without tyranny; — an instance (if such, in- 
 deed, can be enshrined in human essence) of mind with- 
 out defect, and virtue without a stain. A hero whose 
 power was all beneficence, and all whose dispensa- 
 tions were blessings; — who fought only to vindicate; 
 and conquered, only to benefit — even those whose ag- 
 gressions had forced him to unsheath the sword. A 
 hero no less in science, in polity and in arts, than in 
 the field of conflict : Great in the council, as in the 
 camp ; super-eminent in learning, as in arms ! — who, 
 (bursting, at once, thro the night of Gothic Ignorance, 
 and, superior, in all things, to the barbarism of the 
 times.) — shone forth, amidst the general darkness that 
 overshadowed Europe, with a lustre so bright — with 
 a meridian so unclouded, that the record of the phe- 
 nomenon almost staggers credulity ; and all that relates 
 to him, but for a host of concurring testimony, and the 
 evidence of still-existing vestiges, might, reasonably, 
 be set down among the wildest fictions of romance. 
 
 Is there an Englishman, for whom it can be neces- 
 sary to write a name under the portrait, I have thus 
 delineated? Is there an auditor whose heart has 
 not, already, pronounced the name of Alfred ? — of 
 Alfred, the author of our most venerated Institu- 
 
56 
 
 tions ! — of Alfred, the father of his country's mind! — - 
 of Alfred, our redeemer from a foreign yoke ; and the 
 creator of that navy, whose recent triumphs are the 
 particular objects of our present celebration: — that 
 navy, which has long protected, and will still protect, 
 
 our shores ! Alfred — immortal, all-accomplished 
 
 Alfred ! — " who," in the language of his historians, 
 " when he harangued his army, or endeavoured to 
 " excite the indignation of his nobles, against their 
 " infidel invaders, with the energy and fire of Demos- 
 " thenes, gave weight to his arguments, and rendered 
 " them irresistable !" 
 
 Such are my authorities, for the influence of Ora- 
 tory, in creating Martial Enthusiasm ; and for the con- 
 sequent importance of Elocutionary energy and accom- 
 plishment, to Commanders of Armies, and those who 
 are entrusted with the destinies of nations. Nor 
 should it ever be forgotten — that, tho discipline is in- 
 deed much ; Enthusiasm, when superadded to discip- 
 line, is much more : and that, by means of this enthu- 
 siasm, the eloquent Scipio (tho remarkably lax in all 
 the minutiae of discipline) completely vanquished the 
 illustrious Hannibal ; — the most rigid disciplinarian, 
 and, perhaps, the greatest general, of all antiquity. 
 
57 
 
 But of the importance of enthusiasm, in military 
 operation, there is, surely, no remaining doubt. The 
 parade of military array, — the excitements of Music — 
 the doubling drum, the martial trumpet, the ear- 
 piercing fife, the chearful cymbal ; — the banners, tro- 
 phies, plumes ; " Pride, j>omp and circumstance of 
 £: glorious war;" — are not these, in reality, so many 
 expedients for kindling enthusiasm? and so many ac- 
 knowledgements of its efficacy and its power ? 
 
 But what music so inspiring as the human voice? 
 What strain so animating as the eloquence of a beloved 
 General, prepared, himself, to brave the very dangers 
 he is exhorting his followers to despise? Tho " the 
 " Dorian mood of flutes and soft recorder," as Milton 
 expresses it, " could raise 
 
 " To height of noblest temper heroes old, 
 
 " Arming for battle ; and, instead of rage, 
 
 " Deliberate valour breathe, firm, and unmov'd 
 
 " With dread of death, to flight or foul retreat;" 
 
 yet, what was the enthusiasm inspired by these, in 
 comparison with the emulation excited by the Songs 
 and Poems of Tyrtaeus ? — who (with no other military 
 accomplishment, it should seem, than his elocutionary 
 energy) redeemed the desperate affairs of Lacedemon; 
 
58 
 
 and turned, so completely, the torrent of success, in 
 the famous Messinian war. 
 
 Nor, among the means which Elocution has em- 
 ployed for the diffusion of Martial Enthusiasm, must 
 we forget to enumerate the Funeral Orations of the 
 Greeks: — which, while they embalmed the memory of 
 the dead, kindled the emulation of the living; and 
 occasioned valour, like another phoenix, to rise, in 
 perpetual renovation, from its own funeral pyre. 
 
 For such Martial Eulogies, has Britain had no fit 
 occasions — Might not the virtuous Abercrombie have 
 been so deplored? Might not the memory of the 
 
 gallant Nelson be so embalmed? Nelson! whose 
 
 enthusiastic valour has, at once, preserved his coun- 
 try, and added a prouder pinnacle to the towering 
 fabric of its fame I 
 
 But how shall one, unskilled in the phrase and 
 operations of nautical warfare, do justice to this co- 
 pious theme? — How shall he trace the dawn and pro- 
 gress of that valour, which, with such unrivalled 
 splendour, manifested itself thro all the various cir- 
 cumstances of a hundred and thirty victories ; till it 
 sunk, at last, with a brilliancy so ineffable, as to eclipse, 
 by its evening rays, the remembrance of its meridian 
 glories? 
 
59 
 
 What grasp of mind can comprehend- — —what 
 power of language can do justice, to the invincible 
 spirit — the fertility of invention and resource, under 
 every circumstance of difficulty and danger, displayed 
 by this great commander ? — to that rapidity of concep- 
 tion — that promptitude of thought, which perceived 
 the bearings of every exigency ; and devised and 
 adopted, on the instant, the plans of attack, manceuvre 
 and operation, which the circumstances, however un- 
 expected, might require ? — to that collected boldness 
 and impetuous hardihood, which realised, in action, 
 every project, which his boundless Science and fertile 
 genius had devised ? — and, above all, to that rapidity 
 of evolution, from post to post, from sea to sea, from 
 pole almost to pole, — which seemed, as it were, to con- 
 trol the very elements ; and, like the motion and 
 operations of lightning, gave an appearance of omni- 
 presence to his resistless courage ? 
 
 Eulogy has no metaphor that can do justice to this 
 splendid career ; and panegyric itself, must borrow its 
 language from the simple pages of historical record, 
 if it would paint, even in an individual instance, the 
 enterprising activity of his fiery spirit ; when, yet in 
 a subordinate situation, in the conflict of doubtful 
 battle, he seized the moment of critical conjuncture ; 
 
60 
 
 and, attacking, with his single, smaller vessel, the well- 
 seconded force of a superior foe, he passed, sword in 
 hand, from his own deck, up the towering sides of 
 his enemy ; overpowered the desperate resistance of 
 its crew ; and then made the mastered vessel, a step, 
 as it were, from which, with equal impetuosity and 
 success, he passed to another, of still superior magni- 
 tude, and overwhelmed all opposition with a courage, 
 which appeared to be supernatural. 
 
 But this was only a prelude to those splendid 
 achievements, in every part of which he displayed an 
 equal mixture of enthusiasm and presence of mind. 
 To him, wounds, hardships, sufferings, privations 
 and mutilations, presented no obstructions in the ca- 
 reer of duty. " Victory, or Westminster Abbey !" 
 — a glorious life, or an honourable tomb, seem to have 
 been regarded, almost, as equal blessings ; and the loss 
 of limbs, and the abridgement of the powers of exte- 
 rior sense, appear only to have concentrated the pa- 
 triotic fire that burned within, and to have increased 
 the valour and comprehension of his soul. 
 
 And can we remember, without emotions of grati- 
 tude, the benefits which this comprehension and this 
 valour have conferred upon his country? — whose fate 
 it is, perhaps, too much to say that he has averted — 
 
61 
 
 (since the clanger may yet return ; — and since, even in 
 the last extremities, " come what come may," Britons 
 may surely rely on the energies of their united va- 
 lour !) but whose shores he has, at any rate, for awhile, 
 preserved, from the impending ravages of invasion. 
 And can we, — while we taste (tho but for awhile) the 
 renovated blessing of security, forget — that he, who 
 conferred that blessing, is no more to be a participator 
 of its enjoyments. 
 
 Upon such 4R subject, grief might, assuredly, be 
 eloquent ; and the voice of lamentation might be heard 
 in every street. 
 
 But no — Heroic Spirit ! Not such are the Tears 
 that should embalm thy memory; not such is the 
 mourning with which thy obsequies should be accom- 
 panied. Let effeminate sorrow melt over the pale vic- 
 tims of affliction and disease ! Let the dirges of la- 
 mentation resound over the grave of virgin loveliness, 
 cropped in its vernal bloom : but the Tomb of the 
 Hero, is the Temple of his Triumph ; and the Tro- 
 phies that adorn it, are the Altars on which compa- 
 triot youths should ofFer up their vows of emulation. 
 
 Yes ! thou heroic spirit ! if, yet conscious to the 
 transactions of this fragile world, thou hoverest, with 
 patriotic solicitude, over the country thou hast so 
 
62 
 
 bravely defended Yes, thou wilt exclaim, " By 
 
 44 other actions acknowledge my services and estimate 
 " my loss, than by tears and lamentations ! — by other 
 " offerings consecrate my memory than by the dirges 
 " of desponding sorrow. Proclaim your admiration, 
 " by imitating my example ; and, with pen of adamant, 
 44 engrave upon your hearts — the language of my 
 44 last injunction. Landsmen, as well as seamen, may 
 " yet be summoned to the exertions and the sacrifices 
 " it demands. Even yet, upon your coasts you may 
 11 be called upon to repel the invader : — and, if you 
 " should, — keep then in your recollections — what 
 " England expects of every individual; and write your 
 44 remembrances of me with your swords !'' 
 
 We hear thee, patriotic Spirit ! — We receive thy 
 awful admonitions — not into our ears, but into our 
 hearts : — those hearts, from which we breathe, with 
 determined unanimity, the fervent — the inviolable 
 vow, "To assert,— as thou hast asserted, even in 
 44 death, the independence of our country ; and to 
 44 prove, under all extremities, that we are not forget- 
 44 ful of the injunctions, or the example, of the Heroic 
 44 Martyr of Trafalgar." 
 
 FINIS. 
 
63 
 
 Order of succession of an entire Course of Lectures 
 on the Science and Practice of Elocution. 
 
 I. Introduction. Nature and Objects of Elocutionary Science. 
 
 II. Theory of the origin and propagation of Sounds, and of Vocal 
 Sounds, in particular. Structure and Offices of the Vocal Organs. 
 
 III. Structure and Offices of the Enunciative Organs ; and Anatomy 
 of the Elementary Sounds of English Speech. 
 
 IV. The Laws of physical necessity, which regulate the Actions of 
 the Elocutionary Organs ; and the consequent alternation of light and 
 heavy syllables. 
 
 V. Extent and limits of Volition, in regulating the actions and reac- 
 tions of the primary Organ of Voice ; and the physical Cause of the 
 exclusive pleasure received by the human Ear from sounds reducible to 
 simple proportions of common and triple Time. 
 
 VI. On the Use and Abuse of the Term Nature ; and the Illusive 
 distinction between the Physical and Acquired Powers of Man ; with in- 
 stances of extraordinary developements and of calamitous extinctions of 
 Organic Faculties— Children rendered Speechless by injudicious ma- 
 nagement, 8cc. 
 
 VII. Of Natural Impediments; and the Structure and Application 
 of Artificial Organs. 
 
 VIII. Causes and Cure of Habitual Impediments. 
 
 IX. Causes of the Variety of Human Voices. — Of the cultivation 
 and improvement of the general Tone of the Voice. 
 
 X. Of Power or Force of Voice, and the essential difference between 
 force and loudness. 
 
 XI. Of Compass and Variety, and the management of the pitch and 
 key ; with animadversions on the Pitch-pipe of the Ancients. 
 
 XII. Of Modulative Variety, and the characteristic intonations of 
 pathos, &c. 
 
 XIII. Distinctness, and its opposite defects. 
 
 XIV. Articulation, and its opposite defects ; with strictures on the 
 Definitions of Johnson, Sheridan, &c. 
 
 XV. Of Implication, Continuous Harmony, Sec. 
 
64 
 
 XVI. Application of the physical principle of Pulsation and Re- 
 mission, and the consequent alternations of heavy and light syllables, as 
 the basis of Elocutionary Harmony. 
 
 XVII. Of Accents; the mistakes and incongruities of modern Gram- 
 marians in the application of this term; demonstrations of musical inflec- 
 tion in the pronunciation of English syllables. 
 
 XVIII. Swell and fall of the Voice— Varieties of Strong and Soft, 
 Sec. Recapitulation of the constituents of Elocutionary Melody. 
 
 XIX. Simple Time; or quick or slow— Syllabic Time, or Quantity 
 — Generic Time, or Cadences of Common and Triple Measure. Laws 
 and Principles of English Prosody. 
 
 XX. Of Descriptive and Imitative Time ; with Illustrations from 
 Milton, Dryden, Pope, Sec. and Strictures on the Criticisms of Dr. John- 
 son. 
 
 XXI. Pauses and dwellings of the Voice ; with descriptive definitions 
 of the respective accents of Punctuation. 
 
 XXII. General Principles of Pronunciation. Vindication of the 
 Maxim of Dr. Johnson ; with an examination of the objections of Mr. 
 Walker and other Orthoe'pists. 
 
 XXIII. Laws of Quantity, Poise, and Percussion ; Seat of the per- 
 cussion, inflections— acute, grave, circumflective, Sec. 
 
 XXIV. Provincialisms, Vulgarisms, Cockneyisms, Hibernianisms, 
 Scotticisms. 
 
 XXV. Solecisms ; or authorized and established incongruities : Mu- 
 tation and confusion of the Vowels ; Elision, or Syncope. 
 
 XXVI. Application of the preceding principles to the reading of 
 English Verse; with an analysis of the genuine principles of Poetical 
 Rhythmus. 
 
 XXVII. Of Emphases— their position, characteristic varieties, and 
 degrees. 
 
 XXVIII. Intellectual Requisites, and Preparatory Studies and Attain- 
 ments, indispensable to the oratorical character. 
 
 XXIX. Exterior Accomplishments and Accompaniments of Elocu- 
 tionary delivery. Action, Attitude, Deportment, &c. 
 
 XXX. Of the bolder and more impressive excellencies of Oratorical 
 delivery— Decorous Dignity, Discriminative expression, Energy or Force, 
 Emotion and Enthusiasm, 8cc. 
 
 Printed by G. F. Harris, Liverpool. 
 
MR. THELWALL'S ODE 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 THE ENERGIES OF BRITAIN 
 
 IN BEHALF OF 
 
 THE SPANISH PATRIOTS 
 
 First delivered at. the Free Mason's Tavern, London, 
 on Saint James's Day — %5th July, 1808. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed bij J. M'Creery, Fleet-Street, 
 
 And sold in connexion with the other Publications of the Author, 
 
 By Messrs. Arch, Cornhill; and Kent, corner of Kingsgate-street, Holborn. 
 
 1808. 
 
*** This Ode being intended to accompany the Poem 
 and Oration on the £>eath of Lord Nelson^ the 
 pages are numbered accordingly. 
 
ODE, &c. 
 
 1. 1. 
 
 1 HE glowing dreams of hope are fled, 
 That play'd around the youthful head, 
 
 And rous'd the kindling soul 
 To thoughts of high romantic worth ; — 
 Gave boundless expectation birth, 
 And bade the fragile sons of earth 
 
 Pant for Perfection's Goal. 
 
 O ! thoughts by generous fervour fed, 
 That thro the bounding bosom spread, — 
 Till every selfish passion fled 
 Before your strong control ! — 
 
 Nor fled alone : — for, in that hour, 
 Calm Reason lost her guiding Power, 
 
 And sage Experience old. 
 The incongruous world is form'd again ; 
 And, instant, from the heated brain, 
 
 Starts forth " an Age of Gold !" 
 
6S 
 
 1.2. 
 
 11 Nature no more in conflict writhes. 
 
 " Beat — beat to Ploughshares — beat your Scythes, 
 
 " Ye rattling Cars of War !— 
 " No more Oppression lords around, 
 " Virtue no more in chains is bound, 
 " Nor Vice with Glory's laurel crown'd, 
 
 " Beneath a partial Star ! 
 " For honest Toil the fruitage grows, 
 " The harvest bends, the vintage glows, 
 " And, while the general Paean flows, 
 
 " Astrea mounts the car !" 
 
 o 
 
 Ah ! fond mistake :— for, even there, 
 Where Fancy (with a Mother's care) 
 
 Bent o'er her cradled joy, 
 A changeling Demon lay enswath'd, 
 His infant lips in slaughter bath'd ; 
 
 Foster'd — but to destroy. 
 
69 
 
 1.3. 
 
 Hence, while the enthusiast heart beat hio-h 
 O'er her imagin'd progeny, 
 And in prophetic ecstacy, 
 Chaunted the jocund strain, 
 
 Herculean, from those swathes he broke : — 
 But not to snap Oppression's yoke, 
 
 And bid the World rejoice ; 
 Not over City, Grove and Plain 
 To bid the Halcyon Virtues reign, 
 
 And Freedom lift her voice. 
 
 No : but to bid the ravag'd World, 
 From every social comfort hurl'd, 
 
 Fall prostrate at his Feet ; 
 To loose, more fierce, the Dogs of War ; 
 Doubly to scythe the Iron Car, 
 
 And urge the Coursers fleet ; 
 From realm to trampled realm to fly, 
 With syroch breath and lightning eye, 
 
 Blasting whate'er they meet. 
 
70 
 
 II. l. 
 
 From Norway rocks and Lapland snows, 
 To where Italia's summer glows, 
 
 Wide spreads the prosperous crime. 
 From Lusitania's western bound, 
 The distant Volga hears the sound, 
 That claims all Europe's ample bound, — 
 
 Each region, soil and clime. 
 Nor Asia's fanes unmenac'd stand, 
 Nor thine Columbia, — promis'd land ! 
 Where Freedom's noblest work was plann'd 
 
 Mid native scenes sublime. 
 
 And see — what crimes of deepest die, — 
 
 What deeds of blackest perfidy- 
 Ambition's course attend ! 
 
 Tousaint ! — — thy dungeon: — the dire wood, 
 
 By midnight stain'd with D'Enghien's blood; 
 And Palm's disastrous end ! 
 
71 
 
 II. 3. 
 And sleeps Omnipotence supine? 
 Does his red arm the bolt resign, 
 
 And give Oppression room ? 
 Must the wide world, in abject woe, 
 Yield its torn Fasces to the foe, — 
 And one fell domination know 
 
 Of stern tyrannic gloom ? 
 While, curs'd by intellectual dearth, 
 The feeble Potencies of earth, 
 Scarce give one dawning hope a birthj 
 
 To mitigate the doom. 
 
 But hark: Iberia's genius wakes ; 
 The fetters from her hands she breaks ; 
 
 And (fervid as their clime!) 
 Her martial Sons, too long abas'd, 
 Their manly limbs in steel have brac'd 3 
 
 And helm'd the brow sublime ! 
 
72 
 
 II. 3. 
 
 Wide let the conquering banner fly, 
 Children of ancient Chivalry ! 
 Kindle your wonted energy, 
 
 Nation of high renown 
 
 Thine — thine is every nation's pray'r ; 
 And every generous heart shall share 
 
 The triumphs of thy worthy 
 Shouting — as, with terrific frown, 
 Thy wrath resistless, tramples down 
 
 The tyrants of the earth. 
 
 But chief shall British bosoms beat, 
 And kindle with a patriot heat, — 
 
 In active effort shown. 
 Yes Britain, yes, my native land ! 
 For dauntless heart and liberal hand 
 
 Among the nations known ! — 
 I see thy mighty arm outspread ; — 
 See thee, in nerve and heart and head. 
 
 Make the great cause thy own. 
 
ODES, 
 TRANSLATIONS, &c 
 
 ADAPTED FOR 
 
 RECITATION: 
 
 AS EXERCISES 
 
 FOR THE 
 
 PUPILS OF THE INSTITUTION. 
 
75 
 
 ODE I. 
 
 THE NEGRO'S PRAYER. 
 
 l. 
 
 O Spirit ! thatrid'st in the whirlwind and storm, 
 
 Whose voice in the thunder is fear'd,- — 
 If ever from man, the poor indigent worm, 
 
 The prayer of affliction was heard, — 
 If black man, as white, is the work of thy hand— 
 (And who could create him but thee ?) 
 Ah give thy command, — 
 Let it spread thro each land, 
 That Afric's sad sons shall be free !•— 
 
.76 
 
 2. 
 
 If, erst, when the man-stealer's treacherous guile 
 
 Entrap'd me, all thoughtless of wrong, — 
 From my Nicou's dear love, from the infantile smile 
 
 Of my Aboo, to drag me along ; — 
 If then, the wild anguish that pierced thro my heart 
 Was seen in its horrors by thee, 
 O ease my long smart, 
 And thy sanction impart, 
 That Afric, at last, may be free !— 
 
 3- 
 
 If while in the slave-ship, with many a groan, 
 
 I wept o'er my sufferings in vain ; 
 While hundreds around me, reply'd to my moan, 
 
 And the clanking of many a chain ; — 
 If then, thou but deign'st, with a pitying eye, 
 Thy poor shackled creature to see ; 
 O thy mercy apply 
 Afric's sorrows to dry, 
 And bid the poor Negro be free. 
 

 77 
 
 4- 
 
 If here, as I faint in the vertical sun, 
 
 And the scourge goads me on to my toil, — 
 No hope faintly soothing, when labour is done, 
 
 Of one joy my lone heart to beguile ; — 
 If thou view'st me, great Spirit! as one thou hast made, 
 And my fate as dependent on thee ; — 
 O impart thou thy aid, 
 That the scourge may be stay'd, 
 And the black man, at last, may be free. 
 
 Thus pray'd the poor Negro ; with many a groan, 
 
 Whole nations reecho'd the prayer ; — 
 Heaven bent down its ear, — and the fiat is known, 
 Which Britain, in thunder shall bear. — 
 Yes hear it, ye Isles of the Westering deep ! 
 The Lords of the Ocean maintain, 
 No traffic of blood 
 Shall pollute the green flood, 
 And freedom, for Afric shall reign. 
 
78 
 
 ODE II. 
 
 INTENDED FOR THE 
 
 ANNIVERSARY OF THE HUMANE SOCIETY, 
 
 1808. 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 Amid the savage yell of War 
 Ambition mounts her iron car, 
 The reeking sword, the wasteful brand, 
 Uprear'd in either frantic hand, — 
 While nations groan, and cities flame ; 
 And wondering mortals call it fame ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 And shall the savage yell of war — 
 And shall Ambition's iron car, — 
 The reeking sword — the flaming brand, 
 Alone the pealing shout command ? 
 Alone the palm of triumph claim ? 
 While deeds of Mercy lose their name ? 
 
79 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 No, Britain, no ! — tho firm of heart, 
 Prepar'd to act the Patriot's part, 
 
 Thy mailed bosom glow ; — 
 Prepar'd, where dangers most abound, 
 To deal the iron tempest round, 
 
 And crush the vauntful foe ;- 
 Tho long, in high heroic strain, 
 Trafalgar's cape and Maida's plain 
 
 Shall every tongue employ ; 
 Yet shall thy bounding heart proclaim, 
 How dearer — nobler is the fame 
 
 To save than to destroy. 
 
 Then stay, awhile, thy vengeful hand, 
 
 Unhelm thy threatening brow, 
 While high to heaven a grateful band 
 
 Prefer the fervid vow ; — 
 The fervid vow for life renew'd, 
 
 By Hawes's pious care ; — 
 Pale victims once, by Fate pursu'd, 
 
 Or goaded by Despair ! 
 
80 
 
 Behold the Sire — the Husband dear, 
 
 To kindred bliss restor'd ! 
 The Wife — the babe, whom many a tear 
 
 Had else in vain deplor'd. — 
 The agile Youth — the Maid belov'd — 
 
 The Sister, Brother, Friend ! — 
 All, all, (to holy rapture mov'd !) 
 
 In grateful chorus blend. — 
 
 That grateful chorus, heard on high, 
 
 Shall reach the Sapphire throne ; 
 And the wing'd warriors of the sky 
 
 Shall make thy cause their own. 
 Then lift again thy mighty hand ! 
 
 Advance the dauntless breast! 
 For Heaven's own arm shall guard the land 
 
 That Charity has blest.— 
 
8) 
 
 ODE III. 
 
 TO EDWARD RUSHTON, 
 
 OF LIVERPOOL, 
 
 On his Restoration to Sight, after a Blindness of upwards of 
 Thirty Years, by a series of Operations performed by Mr. 
 Gibson, of Manchester. 
 
 And does again the orient day, 
 Pour for my friend the visual ray, 
 
 And gild the vernal scene ? 
 Does Nature, in her Iris vest, 
 Again dilate his bounding breast, 
 
 And wave her robe of green? 
 
82 
 
 2. 
 
 Does she, in linear pomp array'd 
 And varied charm of light and shade, 
 
 Her pictur'd world renew ? 
 And joys of long extinguished sense, 
 As from the bursting grave, dispense— 
 
 Re-kindling to his view ? 
 
 3- 
 
 How beats my heart in transport high, 
 How swell the dew-drops of the eye, 
 
 The joyful tale to hear ! 
 While eager flies the cordial lay, 
 To meet thee on the verge of day, 
 
 With gratulating tear. 
 
 Oh ! as the visions round thee roll, 
 That cheer'd thy once accustom'd soul 
 
 In daily pomp array'd, — 
 Say, if not now, with keener zest, 
 They glad thy long benighted breast ? 
 
 Re-merging from the shade ! 
 
83 
 
 But chief, what joys thy bosom own, 
 New born to raptures never known, 
 
 While flock thy offspring round ! 
 Oft heard — oft felt — but never seen, 
 Till now, with beauty's kindling mien, 
 
 They in thy presence bound ! 
 
 How will the strong poetic fire, 
 
 That, darkling, o'er the wondering lyre 
 
 Could guide thy master hand, 
 Now kindling in a blaze of light, 
 To bolder raptures urge thy flight, 
 
 And with thy joys expand ! 
 
 7. 
 
 Oh friend ! — that I the tear might see 
 That streams, in silent ecstacy, 
 
 O'er every form belov'd ! 
 Might hear the murmurs of that tongue, 
 When first it pours the grateful song, 
 
 By cordial rapture mov'd ! 
 
u 
 
 8. 
 
 But tho forbade the tear to see. 
 That flows in cordial ecstacy, 
 
 Or hear the murmur'd song ; 
 Yet Sympathy's omniscient art 
 In every feeling bears a part 
 
 That warms the circling throng. 
 
 The father's joy, the poet's fire, 
 
 That soon shall wake thy trembling lyre, 
 
 Find, in my conscious breast, 
 A string in unison compleat, 
 A throb, that to thy throb shall beat; — 
 
 Bliss-full, that thou art blest ! 
 
85 
 
 ODE IV. 
 
 THE SONG OF ALI, 
 THE LION OF GOD. 
 
 Tell no\me o^ fragranh bowers, \ 
 Nectarine dews anc^ genialj showers, \ 
 Which to\j:hose tha^ shelter'^ lay, \ 
 Mitiga\e theYervid\ray !\ \ V 
 Be my\shade o^ rattling spears,\ 
 And the\shield the WarrioA rears ;V- 
 \ Dew-drops,Ur-from the limbs of mighc\ 
 Wearie^ in the ^eathfuA fight} 
 And, my fields \with\ showers be\fed \ 
 By my slaughter' (S foemen^shed !l \ \ 
 
86 
 
 2. 
 
 Love-lor^ youths\ the myrtle\ crown,W- \ 
 
 Sloth^ the bed of\ eider\down,-^— \ 
 
 Palaces and robes of state, \ 
 
 And prostrated vassal^ ^oothe the great ^ \ ^ 
 
 Warbling boys an^ dancink girls,\ 
 
 Bounding light in gidd}^ whirls, \ 
 \ Groves ancl lawnfc ancfc cooling springs\ 
 
 Where the taight-birc\ sweetly Vi ngs ;-V— 
 \ These^ iri spacious^ walls erkbrac'd,\ 
 
 Charm the vo^uptuous\sons ol^ taste. \ \\ 
 
 3> 
 
 Loveliek on my nelmea brow,\ 
 
 Shall the iioddink plumag^ bow\ 
 
 Gore-^es^rinkledy;— Vand my ^>ed,\ 
 
 Be the ^eld witl\ slaughter spread ;\ ^ V 
 
 Be my palace^ be my \hrone, \ 
 
 Tent, anc^ warrioV steed aHone ; \ 
 \ And for\pomp oi\Tyrian\vest,\ \ 
 
 Gorgeou^ mail erWrd\my Vreast ;\ 
 \ Slaughters trair^ my yassals\ be, \ 
 
 And their\homagte, yictory ! \ \ \ 
 
S7 
 
 4. - 
 
 For your soft lascivious airs, \ 
 Bid the (trumpet soothe my \ ears ^ \ 
 And my <Jance M with armed, feet, 
 Let the blood-smear'ij soldier^beat;\ 
 \ While.* to Wild a Vnighty\name, \ 
 
 Groves andyravag'^ citi es\ flame !\ \ ^ 
 And for birds o^ amorous \lay, \ 
 Vultures\ screamint o'er theii\prey,\ 
 Let m^heaii ancklet me\see:^— \ 
 * And the yorld myUimit\be !\ \ \ 
 
 5- 
 
 Juice of the forbidder} grapej 
 \ Iri goblets of far^tasti(\ shapej, 
 Frolick'4 o'er with costlylart,\ 
 Giddy joys to^some in^part.\ \ \ 
 Be\myyrinI^theVoeman , s Llood,^ 
 Streaming warm iri copious\flood ;) \ * 
 And, to \satiate\more my isoul, \ 
 \ Be hisjskulimy lpacious\bowl,^ 
 ^ Fiercely in my Vollingleyes, \ \ 
 While the tkindiind raptures\nse.l ^ ^ 
 
ss 
 
 6. 
 
 Yes, be piine\the mailed host ;| \ V 
 Yes,\be )inine\ the Victor'^ boast ; | \ \ 
 YesA be mineythe idreaded^name ;\ ' 
 
 \ Bath'd iri goreV the Wreath o^ fame\; \ 
 Yes,\beyrine\the ^roanl the\tear,i ' 
 Widow's x shrieJ4and^maiden'^ fear.) 1 
 Full enough m^ tide o^ joyi 
 While I ^avage^ and destroy ;\ 
 
 i While the\ nation^ kiss the^rod, \ \ 
 Owning the\Lion-yVrath of\God.| 
 
89 
 
 ODE V. 
 
 TO PEACE. 
 
 1801. 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 She comes. I see the dove-eyed maid! — 
 
 O ! welcome as the morning star, 
 When stormy nights, of deepest shade, 
 
 Scatter before the radiant car. — 
 O ! welcome as the winnowing breeze, 
 
 That, when Columbia's cities mourn 
 
 The desolating pest, forlorn, 
 Springs balmy from Atlantic seas. 
 
 The Atlantic breeze, from winnowing wings 3 
 
 The renovating virtue flings, 
 
 A half-extinguish'd race to save, 
 Chace the mephitic gloom, and close the satiate grave, 
 
 H 
 
90 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 Yes, see — she comes ! — The storm subsides ; 
 
 The maddening pests of War retire ; 
 The Fiend no more the tempest rides 
 
 O'er seas of blood, and realms of fire. 
 She comes, at whose benign command 
 
 Red Murder drops the unwilling knife, 
 
 While Vengeance, from unfinish'd strife. 
 Reluctant stays the uplifted hand: 
 
 Fell Devastation stops, appall'd — 
 
 Her power repeal'd — her doom recall'd ; 
 
 Nor longer, with wide-wasting brand, 
 The smouldering city wraps, or sweeps the ravag'4 
 land. 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 Yes, dove-ey'd Peace ! on Halcyon wing 3 
 Thou com'st, the smiling hours to bring 
 
 Of joy and hope serene ; 
 The Social Virtues, in thy train, 
 Shall bless the harrass'd world again ? 
 
 And cheer the sylvan scene* 
 
91 
 
 No more shall stream the orphan eye : 
 The widow's shriek, the virgin's sigh, 
 
 With modest pang supprest, 
 No more, at War's infuriate yell, 
 Or shout — that peals a myriad's knell, 
 
 Shall rend the feeling breast. 
 
 From Labour's baffled hand, no more 
 Shall nature now withhold her store, 
 
 But all her wealth display ; 
 For thou hast breath'd, o'er hill and plain, 
 Blest power ! the renovating strain, 
 
 And elements obey. 
 
 See, Earth her amplest tribute pours : 
 The Streams unlock their secret stores, 
 
 With latent life impregn'd : 
 While genial Suns, and tepid Rains, 
 For future harvests, dress our plains. 
 
 And Culture's toil befriend, 
 h 2 
 
92 
 
 Old Ocean lifts his brow serene, 
 And smiles, to view the alter'd scene, 
 
 And hold a quiet reign ; 
 Pleas'd that the sanguine stream no more, 
 Amid the slaughter's deafening roar, 
 
 Pollutes the cerule plain: 
 
 Pleas'd that, thro bending mast and shroud, 
 The rival winds may pipe aloud 
 
 To listening shores secure — 
 " Haste Nations ! thro the boundless mart, 
 " The gifts of ail to all impart — 
 
 " Haste, every boon procure. 
 
 " The canvass spread ! — and frozen lands 
 " Shall see, upon their sterile sands, 
 
 " The orient fruitage glow ; 
 " While climes where suns eternal flame, 
 5{ By peace assur'd, the tribute claim 
 
 " That realms of ice bestow." 
 
93 
 
 Yes — these thy blessings, dove-eyed maid !- 
 O ! that the bliss no more might fade, 
 
 But Peace eternal reign ! 
 That Power, for boons of polish'd life, 
 Might change Ambition's rancorous strife :- 
 
 The Soldier for the Swain. 
 
94 
 
 ODE VI 
 
 TO BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 I. l. 
 
 1 ho loudest of the feather'd choir, 
 
 Alauda pour the vocal strain — 
 To heaven, with boldest wing, aspire, 
 
 And (floating thro the ethereal plain) 
 Call up the radiant East, to raise 
 The choral song of pious praise : 
 
 I. % 
 
 Tho down the Heliconian stream 
 
 The stately Swan, in snowy pride, 
 Warbling (as ancient poets deem) 
 
 With more than mortal music, glide- 
 While all the groves of Pindus join, 
 And every Muse, the hymn divine : 
 
95 
 
 I. 3- 
 
 Yet shall the Stork, whose grateful wing 
 Aloft the feeble parent bears^ 
 And kindly shares, 
 And soothes his cares — 
 What tho no labour'd strain she sing ! 
 Or she, whose fond maternal breast 
 To all the younglings of her nest 
 
 Pours, nutritive, the vital stream, 
 (Tho ne'er she sail'd, with stately pride, 
 Down warbling Pindus' sacred tide, 
 To join the Muses' hallow'd lays, 
 And heavenward waft the song of praise ;) 
 More bask in heaven's approving beam. 
 
 II. 1. 
 
 Then — as in the social sphere 
 
 Man a wider range enjoys, 
 Let his hallow'd zeal appear, 
 Service true, and heart sincere, 
 In the blessings it supplies. 
 
96 
 
 II. I 
 
 Vain the Woodlark's hermit strain, 
 
 Musing thro the lone retreat ; 
 All the glowing raptures vain, 
 Floating thro the liquid plain, 
 Of high-poiz'd minstrel, warbling sweet ;- 
 
 II. 3- 
 
 Vain alike the hymn, the pray'r; — 
 
 Pride's full oft, or Sloth's pretence! 
 Would you heaven's best favour share ! 
 Make its suffering sons your care ; 
 And be your suit — Benevolence. 
 
97 
 
 ODE VII. 
 
 Written at Edinburgh (March I804J after reading the 
 following Lines in Graham's Mary Stewart. 
 
 " Look down, and see, in circling flight, yon lark 
 " Reflected in the bosom of the lake ; 
 " It has a home ; it is allow'd to stretch 
 " Its pinions o'er its young." 
 
 I have a nest of callow young : 
 
 What nestlings half so sweet as they? 
 
 And yet, I pour the joyless song, 
 And pant and flutter far away. 
 
 I have a mate of downy breast, 
 
 That throbs to hear the warbled lay ; 
 
 And yet, I quit the widow'd nest, 
 To pant and flutter far away. 
 
 Oh ! gentle mate of anxious breast ! 
 
 Oh ! chirping brood of callow young ! 
 Why must I quit the kindred nest, 
 
 And pour, in alien ears, the song ? 
 
98 
 
 ODE VIII. 
 
 TO THE 
 
 ENGLISH LONG-BOW. 
 
 Vi(jjTORiou4weapo^in the ifields oF Fame!!' 
 To tohich the fcrito^'s sinew^ arm aptoliedA 
 
 Sped the loniA shaftV with ^levervfailinV aimV 
 
 And the whike winjg; iii hostile crimson) dyed \ \ \ 
 
 How oft (wheri martial glorylurg'd the ^soul) \ \ 
 Ou\ RichardsAHenry si Edwards! prov d thylforce ;\ 
 [ Whoste raceV resWlessA to Arribitioii's goal) 
 
 Outoving'd thy tlowint arrow's fata^ course.! ^ \ 
 
 Evelsj nowi(as aistaniscenesV and\ vision^ old\ 
 
 The ijnagic^ powers o\ Fancy)y pleas'd, refoew)\ 
 \Ranft urg'd on\rank\ v&torious^'l bqjiolc^ 
 
 The kallant\band^thei^ scatter'^ foes^pu^me/\ \ \ 
 
99 
 
 Here pold CrMsaders\ urg'd by holy feeal, \ 
 
 Sprea^ swift destruction^ thro the\impious^band.\ 
 I The Istring resounds ^ anA gasping myriadsjieej 
 TheViistarit vigouV of thelarcherj's hand.^ j | 
 
 See Coeur De tionj^ o'er the slaughtering field,\ 
 Likie Mars hijjnselfi directs the^hafts o^ fate :| ' 
 
 Whol^ nation^ shout \ thejgaird ba^talionfj yield, | ( 
 Ano\ hoverind Ruinl threats the Pagaik state.) ( \ 
 
 Full in theWa^ oi Conquests bold career \ 
 Britannia^thundersi and heir sons pursue :.\ 
 
 All Europe^throngs tuimultiiou^ in thehV rear, \ 
 
 To khare theik triumphs^ and theil^ laboui^ view.\ \ \ 
 
 'Tw^s^hus oui^ bowmen^ in the ^ays oJ^ yore\ 
 IA Glory's^ fatal strife\ urjequalUfl stood ;| ( 
 
 O'e^ Asia's\ fieldsi thei^ conquering bannersjborej 
 While thepal^ Crescen^sunk in^seas oflbloodJ ( j 
 
 Butjwhere, my Muse^onlmad An\ibitionVs "wing,\ 
 
 | Wher^ speeds thyiflight^ to What dis^strouslclirae Y\ \ 
 The jflatterink incense of thy Waise\to lfling\ 
 
 Oni War'syfeliyitarA ktain'd with! every Wime !\ { j 
 
100 
 
 What is\this jplory,\nurs'd iri deeds ol[ death H \ 
 The scourge, at\ onceV anch idol of the World \ \ 
 Who ^breathes V- and plagues andi famine \ wait her ^ 
 breath^ \ 
 Who \speaksV-4ncl roun\i are klastin^ thunders; 
 hull d.\ \ \ 
 
 Ah ! \would totfieaven, thafWisdoniJs awful voice \ 
 MigrA 'mid the Vlamours of he^trainbe heard !\ 
 
 That ^Reasons dictatestaiight direct ouii choiceA 
 And Truth and Virtutyo, alone re^er'd !| \ \ 
 
 How might the Ifoil-^-the jkeniusf oft emjploy'di 
 To ravage^ realms ancftthin the Ifiumari race,\ ! 
 
 Havfe macfe whole desart^Vmile in\usefu^pride,\ 
 
 Ano!deck'cl%l&e ^arreri rocks witrJ Culture's grace \ ) 
 
 How might thai wealthi which! War's innumari trade \ 
 
 Hai oft atus'd,\ to Aggravate disVress,^ 
 Ha^E chac'd theVlooni frorA Misery'sVriendless^shade, ' 
 \ Ano\ taught DesV)air\the yberal hand to Kless. | \ \ 
 
 YesAGlory,\yes— ihad it thy Iriumpl^ beenj 
 
 To\heal-V-not\wound ;\ to ^herish-V-not destroy \ 
 \ ThroVnany a pasted realml how ^chang'd a icene\ 
 HaS mefc the teage's\meditati\te eye ! I \ \ 
 
101 
 
 Then had we|seen,-j— iristead olf burning towns, 
 
 0| fields[laia wasted and horrid piles o£ slain, 
 Ancj all that jrlistoryl shudders while she (owns,)— 
 \Faiti smiling Peace| an<i Plenty's^ sylvark reign} \ \ 
 
 Thenl as thy \:hario^ roll'd subilime ajlopg,-4 
 Noiprphai^'s curses,\norfhe ^Vidow^'s tears) 
 
 Shoulcj mix, discordancy with the shouting throng,] 
 Anq pour theiJf anguisll in thy ^voundec\ ears. \ \ \ 
 
 Instead oftheseA to |stre\V thy ^peaceful way\ 
 
 WitrV flowers an$ fruits an<fl leaves oil holy ^palm^ 
 
 TheWillagd youtn before thy feteeds should play,^ \ 
 Ano\ love an<^ music\breathe the\minglety charm ?\ \ * 
 
 There\, too, shoulq Commerce^ pour he^t busy jrain\ 
 To pail theel passing ;V— and eacn artist band| 
 
 And all who jpant the uaure^wreath to tain j 
 
 Oil liberal Science, laud thy high coiAmand.l \ \ 
 
 But chief the Muse J sweet! soother of mylcare ! 
 
 Hei\ gratefui voice\shouloi lift\with} fond acclaim ; j 
 Witf\ hones^ pride|thy snlendicl triumphs) share, 
 
 Anck swell the V:horu^ of thy tuiltless^ame?^ 
 
102 
 
 ODE IX 
 
 TO DESPAIR. 
 
 SUGGESTED ON A DANGEROUS PRECIPICE. 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 O giant fiend ! whose haggard eye, 
 
 Blasting each hope of future joy, 
 In wildering terror restless roves : 
 
 Intent, with savage pride, to seize 
 Whate'er the frantic purpose moves, 
 
 Whate'er may Reason's current freeze, 
 And Resolution's guardian pow'r 
 Pervert, in Sorrow's languid hour, 
 (While keen Regret aloof attends) 
 To fell Destruction's baneful ends i 
 
103 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 O fell Despair ! should e'er my soul 
 
 Dejected feel thy dark controul, 
 May then, as I eccentric stray, 
 
 In lonely grief retir'd to mourn, 
 No yawning chasm cross my way, 
 
 No rapid torrent's winding bourn, 
 No cliff, that o'er the raging main 
 Projecting lours, and turns the brain 
 That, forward bent, with venturous gaze, 
 The foaming surge beneath surveys. 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 There are who, yielding to affliction's smart, 
 Cherish each sullen fiend of Fancy's train ; 
 
 To every scene the darkest hues impart, 
 And conjure phantoms in the working brain ;— ■ 
 Who, all alive in every throbbing vein 
 
 To wild Imagination's la:vless power, 
 The gloomy perturbation scarce restrain, 
 
 When lonely Silence rules the darkling hour. 
 Ah ! ne'er may such, while throbs the wildering brain 3 
 With devious step, this tottering brink attain I 
 
104 
 
 ODE X. 
 
 TO FULVIA. 
 
 Inscribed upon a Fan that had been long in the Author's 
 possession. — (Sept. 1803.^ 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 r ulvia ! — what Time, on troubled pinion sailing,— 
 
 Has flitted by,— 
 Since first this toy (in Fortune's fitful season) 
 To me consign'd, its asking folds expanded, 
 And, from the wayward Muse, if so inspiring, 
 
 Challeng'd some kind memorial: 
 Memorial of those feelings, how awaken'd ! 
 
 And foster'd how ! 
 By many a boon, to Friendship's heart how cordial I 
 
 From thee and thine imparted. 
 
105 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 FulvTa ! — what change, by Time's rude flight affected, 
 
 Has mark'd my lot, — 
 My wayward lot (by Destinies capricious, 
 Wove of strange threads) since that precarious season^ 
 When, with the popular storm in vain contending, 
 
 With winds and billows hostile ! 
 I, sometimes, from the fruitless toil withdrew me,— 
 
 To hail (how sweet !) 
 The social converse of the group fraternal, 
 
 That blest thy father's mansion. 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 Yet, what tho fitful Fortune, ever changing! — 
 
 Time's rapid flight, 
 And tangling web of Destinies capricious, 
 Tissu'd with woes, 
 The cordial strain averted? — 
 Think not that memory fails thy name to hallow J 
 
 Or that the woe-worn Muse, unmindful 
 Of the calm joys of Friendship's treasur'd season^ 
 Her theme foregoes. 
 
106 
 
 No: — to the group, in social love combining, 
 Connubial and fraternal, 
 Round thy hearth, matron rever'd ! 
 (Where little lares, sporting, 
 Enhance the bliss) she tunes a virgin lyre, — 
 As yet unconscious to the notes, unhallow'd, 
 Of lighter themes, — and hails the names, commutual, 
 That blend in holy friendship's kindred bond. 
 
107 
 
 ODE XI. 
 
 To Dr. PALEY, of Halifax. 
 
 (Sept. 1803.) 
 
 STKOPHE. 
 
 r aiey ! — while bigots, with infatuate fury, 
 
 Science proscribe, — 
 While fever'd Ignorance, the cup of knowledge, 
 With senseless howl and hydrophobial frenzy, 
 
 Spurns from her trembling lips ; 
 Shall not the Muse, with cordial rapture hailing 
 
 The liberal few, — 
 Their names inscribe on adamantine tablet ? 
 
 And give to fame — to distant fame, — 
 The independent worth of those, unshrinking, 
 Who brave the clamorous storm, — and, all untainted 
 With party prejudice, or party fears,. 
 Sanction the arts they love? 
 
 The arts that gave — 
 To Greece, her glory ; and to Rome, her power. 
 I 2 
 
108 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 Yes — tho not yet arrive the destin'd season 
 
 Of public praise; — 
 Tho Fame, as yet, from her sonorous trumpet 
 Withhold the breath, that, thro the nation's echoing,. 
 
 Proclaims each virtuous name ; — 
 Yet shall the Muse, in heart-expressive whispers, 
 
 To choicer ears, 
 Convey the strain of generous gratulation: 
 
 Yet sow the seed — the living seed, 
 That, in the soil its wintery season slumbering, 
 Shall wait the destin'd hour, — and, late expanding. 
 Nurture in souls elect, the generous pride 
 That prompts to virtuous deeds : 
 To virtuous deeds — 
 That never but from Independence spring ! 
 
 epode. 
 
 Among the few to such renown predestin'd, 
 Permit an humble Muse, 
 
 Untrain'd in arts of courtly adulation, 
 
 To rank her Paley's name ; 
 
109 
 
 Which, on a Sybil's leaf tho here inscribing, — 
 Shall find, hereafter, 
 A sharper stylus, and a firmer field : 
 For not alone the Esculaplan temple 
 
 Thy praise shall echo ; — 
 But Honour's mansion, and the Muses' grove. 
 
 This and the preceding Ode may be regarded as Metrical 
 experiments: — attempts to free the English Pindaric from the 
 fetters of Rhyme. 
 
 How far commendable or censurable they may be, in this 
 point of view, this is not the proper place to contend: — as exer- 
 cises in recitation, calculated to train and modulate the voice 
 to the practical rhythmus of our Language, they will, at least, 
 be found useful to those who are initiated in the system they are 
 intended to illustrate. 
 
ill 
 
 TWO PASSAGES 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 FIRST BOOK OF VIRGIL. 
 
 THE following fragments were translated to refute a preju- 
 dice, most strangely propagated, and superstitiously fostered, — 
 that the English language is inferior, in point of conciseness and 
 energetic compression, to that of ancient Rome. A strict atten- 
 tion has, therefore, been paid to literal exactness. With the 
 single exception of the exclamation 
 
 " Qua? te tam beta tulerunt 
 Saecula? qui tanti talem genuere parentes!" 
 
 which is, perhaps, too freely rendered by the single line, 
 " Blest age! blest parents! who such virtues bore!" 
 
 every thought, it is presumed, will be found faithfully rendered, 
 without abridgment or omission; and yet (the different lengths 
 of the lines in English and Latin heroics duly compared) both 
 the blank-verse, and the rhyme translation, are shorter than the 
 originals; and it may fairly be questioned, whether there is any 
 passage of equal length, in the whole Mneid, that might not, 
 with equal facility, be faithfully rendered with the same advan- 
 tage of conciseness. 
 
112 
 
 JEn. I. v. 81. Hcec. ubi dicta, &c. 
 
 1 his 'said, \ into the Ipountairji's echoingj side^ 
 He prove the \vhirrind spear ;\when from the ^leffc 
 Wid^ yawnin^(like en\battleo\ legion^) rush\ 
 Scouring the\earth in, whirlwind^, the perde blasts 
 Ii«Vpetuous\; and, ir^cumbenf o'er the[sea,^ 5 
 
 Up-plough itk lowes^ bed! \ purus, ai| once\ 
 Anc( Notus^ and the ktorm-for^entirW rag^ 
 Oil Africa^, the Foaming billows\ vast \ 
 Roll to theishorej iLoucl shriek thejmariners.j 
 Thelcordagej cracks. i All once,\from| Trojan eyes,] 10 
 Day and the (heavens arelsnatch'di Inyolv'd in clouds\ 
 Blacft nighti sits\brooding on thej sea\ [The foole^ 
 Thunderl; andl^Etherj witH fierce-dartink fire's 
 plows! frequent| yDeath^ oni every! side adpears.j [ | 
 
 Cold fear^bedews ^Eneas' shuddering limbsi \ I 15 
 He troans ;\an& lifting to the Wars his hands,\ 
 Suppliant exclaimsy' Oh ! price, and morethaijithrice\ 
 Heaven* favour'd\ they, ^vvEo, in tKeir\ parents' sight,\ 
 \ Befoeath the \ofty V a ^ s of yTroy,\ werk doom'il 
 To Wrish !\\WVhere fore, in, the^liarl campA 2Q 
 
 Ty|jidesy pravest of the\Greciar\race ! \ 
 
113 
 
 I Was I forVdder\ by thy krm to fall ?\-{ \ 
 ThereAwhere^ercelHector,^ victim of the Wcje 
 Off great Achilles,^— and, ir^ kindred dust, \ 
 Ditine Sarpedon\ lies|; While Simois\roUs 25 
 
 Oe'i^ broker^ shields an^f helms, his troubled waves,\ 
 And many a^hero's\bones.'| 
 
 THE SPEECH OF iENEAS ON DISCOVERING 
 HIMSELF TO DIDO.— B. I. v. 594- 
 
 1 hen to the queen] while all irk wondeir stood,| 
 Eager he ^cries^— '\ Snatch'd from the ^ybiari floodj^ 
 Lo! Whom yoii seek, \Trojan Aieas,\ here. \ \\ 
 " O ! I thou, a^one, who^ieed'st the ^uppliar^t teat 
 Ofitoil-ex^iausted\Troyy "and deign'st to zuForo 5 
 
 To the\sad reliqu&s of the Grecianl svvordV 
 (ByuandAbyWaAwitriever^ill orlprest,\ 
 Grief-worri^anck destituted a home o(j rest! 
 Witnin thy Walls-y-thy\palace\l— Ithanks to give* \ 
 \ Such as thy\noble\bounty\should rebeive\ 10 
 
114 
 
 Dido ! exceeds our\ power!:— Uhe Dardafy racejy 
 Thro the jvast^worlo^wid& scatter'd, canndt gracq 
 Thy worth with equa^ praisej! iThe Gods a^on^ 
 (If fieavenly powers make ^pious deeds theijr own,-\- 
 
 \ If they the^good reVere) 1 Vnd thy own jieart, 1$ 
 
 Conscious of worthl can fit rewards in\part.\ \ \ 
 Blest age !\ bles^ parents 1 ^! Who suchWirtues^boreM \ 
 " Wha,teve^reg!oi\call mfe to its lshore,A— 
 
 \ Whil)^ confluen^ rivers^to the ocear^move,^ ^ 
 Roun^ swelling mountain^; while theiik shadows^rove,*\ 
 
 \ White round the\pole^the ^herish'd stars shall shine,\ 
 
 \ Thy tionour\ name anil praisA shal^ne'er decline. \ 
 
 * If the object of the version did not restrict me to literal translation, 
 I should have preferred, in place of v. v. 19, 20, 
 
 " While confluent rivers to the ocean flow, — 
 
 " While towering mountains shade the vales below," &c. 
 
THE 
 
 HOPE OF ALBION 
 
 Several years ago, — even so early as in the season 
 of my boy-hood, I projected, and laid the plan of an 
 Epic Poem, on the subject of the exile and restoration 
 of Edwin of JVorthumberland, — the earliest of our 
 Saxon princes celebrated for the establishment of laws, 
 and the effective and impartial administration of justice. 
 After an interval of fourteen or fifteen years, in the 
 depths of solitude and irksome seclusion from all active 
 life, the mind recurred to its former project. After 
 much meditative preparation, the pen was resumed; and, 
 during an almost uninterrupted interval of fifteen or 
 sixteen weeks, the subject was prosecuted with devoted 
 enthusiasm; and four or five thousand verses (constitut- 
 ing the matter of the first six books) were composed, and 
 
116 
 
 in part corrected. Circumstances, the remembrance of 
 which it is not desirable to revive (because dishonourable 
 to those who produced them,) interrupted at that time my 
 further progress. The thread once broken, was not 
 easily to be resumed; and event succeeding to event, 
 partly driving, and partly drawing, me from my retire- 
 ment, plunged me again ftho in a new character) into 
 the bustle of professional exertion and public intercourse. 
 In the pursuit of an intricate science, and amid the du- 
 ties of a laborious profession, " The Hope of Albion" 
 became almost entirely banished from my thoughts, — 
 except only, at those moments, " permitted for short in- 
 tervals and rare," when contemplation indulged itself in 
 expatiating with regret, on a delightful employment, 
 which leisure could not be found to resume. 
 
 Whether the remaining books wi 11 ever be written; or 
 even the different transcripts of those already composed, 
 be collated for final revision, is now exceedingly doubtful. 
 Some fragments, however, of a work so long meditated, 
 and so likely, therefore, to preserve a faithful record of 
 settled sentiments and permanent feelings, (feelings and 
 sentiments — which, when faithfully recorded, and accu- 
 rately understood, will not be in danger of being vehement 
 censure .') I am desirous to preserve, in some form that 
 
117 
 
 may give them a degree of permanency and diffusion : and, 
 as there are many portions of that work, which, assum- 
 ing an oratorical form, seem well adapted to the purposes 
 of recitation, I have thought it not amiss to incorporate 
 some of them with the science, which it is my profession 
 to teach. Something of this kind has, indeed, already, 
 been partially and adventitiously accomplished; some small 
 fragments of the poem having been introduced into a 
 former volume of Selections, and the entire second book 
 having been printed in a volume of poems, which, for the 
 sake of variety, has occasionally been us'd as a class- 
 book in my Institution. • But now, that I am printing a 
 volume expressly for the purpose of recitation among my 
 pupils, I am not disposed to lose the opportunity of 
 transferring some further specimens from the silence of 
 my port-folio, to the memory of those, whose voices, 
 hereafter, may give them an expression, not less effective, 
 from their having been used as instruments for the im- 
 provement of the melodies of elocution, and the energies 
 of oratorical delivery. 
 
 It is only necessary further to premise, as an introduc- 
 tion to this extract, that at the entrance of the East An- 
 glian Prince, he finds his friend, (the hero of the poem,) 
 — though not unconscious of the perils that surround 
 
118 
 
 him, rapt in divine and patriotic enthusiasm, tracing with 
 his spear, on the walls of his apartment, an instructive 
 map of his expected and rightful kingdom: a circumstance 
 to which the prefatory lines refer. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 The Friendship of Reijnier, and the Suppression of the 
 Sedition. 
 
 WHILE o'er the pictur'd towers, firm monument 
 Of his preclestin'd fame ! with fix'd regard, 
 Musing high thoughts, abstract, the hero hung, 
 At his so calm deportment, for awhile, 
 Reynier stands pausing; to amazement chang'd — 5 
 Amazement mix'd with awe, his eager haste 
 And hurry'd apprehension. 
 
 But not long 
 Upon the graphic toil, with wondering eye, 
 Silent he gaz'd ; by stronger passion mov'd. 
 " What strange delusion, fate-devoted friend!" 10 
 Exclaims the warm Uffingian, " holds thee here 
 " Infatuate ? — Ah ! fly, disastrous prince. 
 
U9 
 
 " Fly — and for better days preseve a life 
 
 " To Reynier dear, and dear to all the good." 
 
 The son of JElfo paus'd: but not withdrew 15 
 
 The tracing spear, that, o'er the unfinish'd work 
 Still lingering, speaks the mind to other thoughts 
 Reluctant. Yet (as, by the well-known voice 
 Half-rous'd, he turns toward the fervid youth) 
 His eye full orb'd, beams mild, with look divine. 20 
 Ineffable, of Friendship ; all unmov'd 
 By other passion — if not passion call'd 
 That noble sense of infelt dignity, 
 That, from superior virtue, and the force 
 Of fate-subduing energy, serene, 25 
 
 Smiles at surrounding dangers : still secure 
 By god-like effort, m the perilous strife, 
 Greatly to triumph, or more greatly fall. 
 Not so the youth of Uffa's royal line. 
 He, deeply sighing, with tear-swimming eye 30 
 
 Beholds his friend, devoted (so he deems) 
 To unresisted destiny; and, thus, 
 His hand embracing, Avith renewed suit, 
 Urges to flight — " Ah why indifferent thii3 
 " To life — to Friendship? know'st thou not without 
 *' What tumult rages? what vile arts within 36 
 
 " Conspire thy instant Fall? — Hark ! in that shout 
 
120 
 
 " Ruin comes pealing ; while the infatuate crowd, 
 
 " Urg'd on by bosom traitors, fierce, assail 
 
 " The tottering pallace. and with Adelfrid's name40 
 
 " Batter the gates and turrets! while, within, 
 
 " Apostate Egbert, servile Ethelwulph, 
 
 " Woolfhere, unshrinking from confronted vice, 
 
 " Fierce Beornulph, and close Oswin, and their crew 
 
 " Of cringing sophisters, the royal heart 45 
 
 " Mold to their views. The plannets that prevail'd, 
 
 " In their abhorr'd conjunctions, at the birth 
 
 " Of Adelfrid and Acca, triumph still ; 
 
 " And Anglia's court no more is Edwin's refuge. 
 
 " I, powerless, from my father's heart estrang'd, — 60 
 
 " Cannot protect thee — But I may preserve ; 
 
 " And will revenge. By all the Gods I will ! 
 
 " In public council — in the holy Karns 
 
 " Of Thor and Woden, if there only met, — 
 
 " Even at the Altars ! — The vile minion crew! 65 
 
 " Polluters of the hospitable board ! 
 
 " Stains of the race of Uffa !— But, ah ! fly 
 
 " Disastrous Edwin ! from their traitorous snares 
 
 " Timely preserve thee, and our Albion's hope 
 
 " Snatch from their murderous rage ! 
 
 " — Thou know'st the path 70 
 
 " Whose subterraneous windings to the brink 
 
121 
 
 " Of Yar conduct. There faithful Lilla waits, 
 
 " With ready zeal ; from Castor's treacherous walls, 
 
 " As late from Bebba's sea-controuling towers 
 
 V And Acca's lifted poniard, to redeem 75 
 
 " Thy sacred life J—" 
 
 The Son of JElfa hears : 
 But hears unanswering: save with eloquent eye, 
 That flash'd indignant pride ; — disguise, or flight, 
 Alike disdaining. Yet, not so repuls'd, 
 Reynier desists ; but, with heart-heaving sigh, 80 
 And deepen'd voice, with conjuration strong, 
 Urges his suit. 
 
 " By all the Gods !— By him— 
 " The stranger God ! — that solitary power 
 " Thou paint'st in heaven lone thundering,8c with whom 
 " At dawn, or eve, with inward mutter'd prayer, 85 
 " Thou holdst communion awful ! — By that God ! — " 
 (Resumes the fervid youth — his eager tongue 
 Faultering with dread mysterious) — "by our vows 
 " Of undissembled friendship ! — by the hopes 
 " Of love and Emma! — I conjure thee, fly." 90 
 
 At name of that dear maid, a deep-drawn sigh 
 The hero heav'd ; his dauntless brow relax'd, 
 Bow'd pensive ; and o'er every feature rush'd 
 
 K 
 
122 
 
 Conflicting passions. Yet not long, his heart 
 Yields he to amorous frailty: but, anon, 95 
 
 With front erect, and conscious look compos'd, 
 Calm o'er himself towers triumphing. 
 
 " And where," 
 Sternly, he asks, " shall vagrant Edwin fly? — 
 " In what vile den, forest, or bog obscene 
 " Next hide his recreant head, dishonour'd ? No: 100 
 " My Reynier, no: I thank thy friendly zeal — 
 " Thy virtue love, and high heroic pride, 
 " Worthy the race of Uffa : but no more, 
 " Chac'd, like a timid leveret from his lair, 
 " Shall Edwin fly, bewildering; in each breeze 105 
 " List'ning the hunter's cry — a trembling thing! 
 " No: stag-like, rather, here I take my stand, 
 " My warrior antlers trusting. I am tir'd 
 " With tedious chase, and, baited, here, at length, 
 " I turn upon my foes ; resolv'd to brave 110 
 
 " Their utmost daring. Here shall Edwin fall — 
 " If fall lie must — he, or his vile pursuers!" 
 
 Thus as he spoke, upon the ground he struck 
 The martial spear ; while, from his kindling eyes, 
 The fire flash'd awful, and his brow, elate, 1 15 
 
 Spoke inward confidence. Nor uninspir'd 
 
123 
 
 With kindred passion, glows the cordial youth, 
 
 Admiring. Yet once more, with soothing speech, 
 
 Seeks he to shake his purpose, and persuade 
 
 To timely flight ; painting what hopes may rise 120 
 
 In future times; and, in the present hour, 
 
 What hopeless dangers pressing. " Hopeless more !" 
 
 Rejoins the Son of Mih, " if betray'd 
 
 " By dastard fears, desponding; now I fly 124 
 
 " From Red'wald's court — each other tried in vain. 
 
 — " True, I am set with dangers — hem'd around 
 
 " By hell's black agents. Well I know them — know 
 
 " The wily arts, cabals and dark intrigues 
 
 " Of bloody Hermanric : — nor less the hate, 
 
 " Long festering, of the courtier crew, who seize 130 
 
 " With joy the occasion offer'd — doubly sold 
 
 " To malice and corruption: — foreign pelf 
 
 " Their vaunted loyalty — their boasted zeal 
 
 " For Anglia's welfare, rapine, and the spoils 
 
 " Of groaning multitudes: nor yet unknown 135 
 
 " The royal foible, that too oft perverts 
 
 " Virtue to ill ; and, while the unstable mind, 
 
 " In noblest thoughts luxuriating, projects 
 
 " Love and beneficence, oft lends the hand 
 
 " An instrument to deeds his soul abhors — 140 
 
 " By bad men guided will-less. But not less 
 k 2 
 
124 
 
 " Know I his love of justice, and the wish 
 
 " Still in his bosom struggling, to preserve 
 
 " His faith untainted, and his friendship, vow'd 
 
 " At Woden's altar — haply which but needs 145 
 
 " Countenance of firm example, to sustain 
 
 " In virtuous daring: while the minion crew, 
 
 " Now pledg'd to impious purpose, failing here, 
 
 " Shall lose their influence ; thou the rank regain 
 
 " Due to thy virtues ; and East Anglia, purg'd 150 
 
 " From spoil of traitorous sycophants, fore-run 
 
 " Northumbrian promis'd freedom. Seem I bold ? 
 
 " O'erweening of the individual force 
 
 " Of virtuous resolution? — Cheerily! — 
 
 " We'll try, at least, what Energy can do, 155 
 
 " By Justice nerv'd. Nor are we now to learn 
 
 " That one can make the many, easier far 
 
 " Than many make the one. What hardiest seem* 
 
 " Requiring little but the soul that dares 
 
 " Adventure foremost : followers rarely lack'd. 160 
 
 " Believe me, friend ! that Virtue oftner fails 
 
 " Missing example than desire; and Vice 
 
 " Thrives in its boldness, only when the good 
 
 " Want equal daring." 
 
 — "Would it so might prove!" 
 Replies the cordial Youth, his ardent cheek 165 
 
125 
 
 Flushing with hope unwonted, " and thy words 
 
 " With like presumption my reluctant breast 
 
 11 Seem to inflate, infectious. — Yet the stake 
 
 " Is deep, my Edwin ! In one perilous hour, 
 
 " Empire and Love and Glory, Hope and Life ! 17<> 
 
 " Thyself sole pilot!" — 
 
 " Grant it all?" rejoins 
 The Son of iElla dauntless — " Grant beside — 
 " The port is dangerous ; like our Humber's mouth 
 11 When refluent flows the Hygre, and East winds 
 " War with the boisterous torrent; or the shores 1/5 
 " Northward of Tyne, where sands and rocky scars 
 " Threat fearful: yet there is a time, at which 
 " The o'erwearied mariner, with seas and winds 
 " Long warring, cheerless, on his lonely plank, 179 
 " Scap'd from the distant wreck, at length, may cry 
 " Deaths or my home ! uncensur'd. On that plank 
 " I ride, my Reynier; and have duly weigh'd 
 " My state and prospects ; thro the sleepless night 
 " Deep pondering. In the balance I have weigh'd 
 " Life, and its hopes and perils ; and I think 185 
 " I know its price : who pays beyond, is dotard ! 
 " If I can honour'd live, and taste the boons 
 " My heart — my virtue pants for — it is well : 
 " I only mourn 'tis transient : but no more 
 " Upon the watry wilderness I float 190 
 
126 
 
 t; A lonely thing, heart-chill'd, — the passive sport 
 
 " Of A\inds and heaving billows, and the prey 
 
 " Of; feverish apprehension. Death, or home ! — 
 
 " Northumbna freed and Emma's love possess'd, 
 
 " Be mine; or I am nothing. Nor unwarm'd 195 
 
 " By that aspiring hope, which oft creates 
 
 " What it forebodes, feel I my kindling bosom! 
 
 " — Some spirit stirs within me : some still voice, 
 
 " Deep-felt, not heard, whispers — that I was born 
 
 " For high achievements ; not to skulk in woods 200 
 
 " And dens obscure — a nameless vagabond ! 
 
 " But, in the face of nations to display 
 
 " The awful power of Justice ; on the heads - K 
 
 " Of blood-stain'd tyrants pour heav'n's vial'd wrath, 
 
 " And give a people freedom. By such thoughts 505 
 
 " Warm'd to forgetfulness of present ills, 
 
 " Sketch'd I the chart here pictur'd ; and enjoy'd, 
 
 " While planning blessings for my future realm, 
 
 " Such holy visions — such soul-kindling joys 
 
 " And infelt raptures, as, in worth, outweigh 510 
 
 " An age of vulgar being ; and confirm, 
 
 " With more than mortal promise (so I deem) 
 
 11 My hopes pre-cherish'd. On those hopes I act. 
 
 " 'Tis fix'd, my Reynier — fix'd as Albion's rocks 
 
 "' Stand my resolves, which tempests cannot shake. 
 
127 
 
 " I will confront these demons; on themselves, 216 
 " Turn their vile arts ; and, with the awful glance 
 " Of unmov'd virtue, blast them. If I thrive, 
 " Adelfrid totters : to Northumbria strait 
 " With wide-spread banners, side by side, we haste, 
 " Heading East Anglia's phalanx ; and the war 221 
 " The Tyrant's threats provok'd, shall haply burst 
 " Upon his head unlook'd for. If I fail, 
 " My cares are ended : I shall fall alone. 
 " Emma, a widow'd virgin, on thy strand 225 
 
 " Sea-chaff'd Reculver, shall my spirit soothe ; 
 " And my poor Country from some other hand 
 " Must wait its lingering freedom." 
 
 As he spokq 
 Deep sobb'd the brave Uffingian, and his eye, 
 Tearful, yet kindling with heroic rage, 230 
 
 Bewray'd the mingled passion : as the sun 
 Oft, in the unsettled season, when dark clouds 
 Lour transient, and with intermittent shower 
 Deform the vernal day, with ardent beam 
 Breaks thro the storm, and, with refracted tints, 235 
 Colouring the misty air, o'er hill and grove, 
 Mountain and tower, and clear reflecting stream, 
 Sheds two-fold radiance. Such the youth appears — 
 Ardent in grief, — when, in commutual grasp, 
 
128 
 
 Seizing the hand heroic — " Godlike youth ! 240 
 
 " (For not of mortal essence," he exclaims, 
 
 " Appears thy towering virtue !) — to thy foes, 
 
 " Be, as to me, resistless. Hence, no more, 
 
 " With voice of feehle caution, I oppose 
 
 " Thy noble daring, but demand my share : — 245 
 
 " For not alone — by friendship's holy name, 
 
 " Alone thou shalt not perish. If thou fall'st — 
 
 " (As thou hast fill'd me with a strange-born hope 
 
 " Thou shalt not) Reynier, by thy vantage side, 
 
 " Shall perish with thee, and one common grave 250 
 
 " Attest our faithful friendship !" 
 
 " Generous youth ! 
 " Thy ardour warms me with encreasing hope," 
 Replies the Son of iElla, " and I hail 
 " The happy omen. First then, let us seek 
 " This headlong multitude — this frenzy'd herd, 255 
 " Mad for their own undoing. Thee they love; — 
 " And loving, reverence : on thy martial worth 
 " Building proud hopes, well-founded. Nor on me, 
 " Howe'er inflated by the minion crew, 
 " Turn they heart-rancorous. 'Tis delusion all — 260 
 " A short-liv'd madness, kindled by some tale 
 " Of Cambrian triumphs, coupled with the name 
 " Of Adelfrid, by the inventive tongue 
 
129 
 
 " Of crafty Hermanric, I know them well : 
 
 " A fickle throng : enflam'd by plausive speech, 265 
 
 " They shout, mouth valiant! threat'ningEarthScHeav'n 
 
 " And deify their demagogues. — If then, 
 
 " The plot be ripe, and able leaders guide 
 
 " Their headlong passions, while the opposing power 
 
 " Is weak and wavering, who shall bound their rage, 
 
 " When once enflam'd to action? Lose the hour, 27 1 
 
 " You lose them too. Confront them, with firm brow, 
 
 " Calm, but decisive, and they shrink — or turn, 
 
 " Like the gay pennant, on some gusty day, 
 
 " When veers the unstable wind; and oft 'tis found, 
 
 " Follow, with giddy plaudit, whom their breath 276 
 
 " Had sentenc'd to destruction. Hence it is 
 
 " (Themselves so fickle) who, with dauntless front, 
 
 " Stands firm and changeless, awes them as a God ! 
 
 " — They are but limbs and passions: who would rule 
 
 " Must find pervading reason!" — 281 
 
 Thus advis'd, 
 Reynier, well-pleas'd, assents ; and, arm in arm, 
 With smile superior, thro the twilight aisles 
 And loftier hall, they shape their venturous way. 
 
 Mean time, by heaven commission'd, (tho unseen 
 By mortal eyes) hovers, on seraph-wing, 286 
 
130 
 
 Amraphael, tutelary power, decreed 
 
 To illume the hero's mind ; what time, submiss, 
 
 The stern-brow'd Angel (from his office nam'd 
 
 Mozeroth) his perfected task resign'd 290 
 
 Obedient, and to higher powers, for ends 
 
 Of highest import, yields the chasten'd prince : 
 
 Fit instrument of Judgments pre-ordain'd. 
 
 So deem'd the hovering Seraph, since unaw'd 
 By thronging dangers, he, with upright heart, 295 
 Stood firm, and the probationary hour 
 (Test of heroic rectitude !) improv'd 
 With sage election ! prizing perilous strife 
 In Freedom's cause, o'er self-consulting thoughts 
 And timorous safety. Hence, the glorious scenes 300 
 Open'd in holy vision, as he sketch'd 
 The instructive chart soul-cheering! Hence, the voice 
 Internal, that, with sweet approval, cheer'd 
 His manly virtue ; and the mental eye 
 Dilating to superior thoughts, and things 305 
 
 Conceal'd from mortal vision: save from such 
 To whom Amraphael, with permissive hand, 
 Unrolls the direful volume, where are writ, 
 In characters of fire, the hidden things 
 Of Judgment and of Wrath—of Grace decreed, 3 10 
 Or dooms of desolation, that impend 
 
131 
 
 O'er States and Cities — Mysteries sublime ! 
 — Hence too (his course approv'd !) as to the throng 
 He bent his venturous step, with guardian care 
 Hover'd the mission'd Seraph (of his charge 315 
 Not heedless in the perilous hour) and o'er 
 His form expanding, with ambrosial breath, 
 Diffus'd superior splendour — such as seen, 
 Awakes mysterious reverence. 
 
 Thus inspir'd, 
 Edwin proceeds elated. His full eye 320 
 
 Beams with majestic ardour, and his brow, 
 Crown'd with commanding dignity and thought, 
 Spreads god-like; while, with step sublime, he towers, 
 Conscious of triumph ! and his manly limbs, 
 Strong and elastic, with Herculean force 325 
 
 Combine Hyperion's grace. The cordial youth 
 Wondering beholds, and owns the present God ! 
 
 Nor less the crowd : — for now the gates unfold, 
 And, back recoiling, in amazement heap'd, 
 Justles the popular reflux: as of old, 330 
 
 What time the Midian shepherd, with the tribes 
 Of chosen Israel, near the boastful towers 
 Of Baal-Zephon, on the sea-chaff' d beach, 
 Thence call'd Pi-hahi-roth, by Egypt's host 334 
 
132 
 
 Hard-press'd, advanc'd, with heav'n-directed step, 
 
 Frontling the boisterous foam ; — the boisterous foam, 
 
 Awe-struck, retires ; and, huddling wave on wave, 
 
 Upheap'd mysterious, to the dauntless chief 
 
 Yields unobstructed passage : while before 
 
 The tutelary Angel, from the cloud, 340 
 
 Bright flaming, to the land of promise points : 
 
 Reward of toils yet pending. So the throng, 
 
 To right and left disparting, egress yield 
 
 To ^Ella's son, and to the Uffingian Prince, 
 
 His brave compeer belov'd ; the while in air 345 
 
 Sublime Amraphael his impurpled plumes, 
 
 Bedropt with gold, spreads radiant, and reveals 
 
 (As erst to Constantine) the ardent Cross, 
 
 Circled with wreaths of Victory ; and twin'd 
 
 (Meet compact !) with the flourishing palm,whoseblooms, 
 
 (Emblem of Peaceful Arts) their silvery down 35 1 
 
 Shed amiable — first promise of the spring, 
 
 And hope of genial days ! while, over all, 
 
 (Sky-tinctur'd, but irradiated with beams 
 
 Emissive, that the embrion Genius warm — 355 
 
 Kindling high thoughts ; and to the sinewy arm 
 
 Give ten-fold energy,) thy symbol shines, 
 
 Transcendant Freedom ! — Virtue's fondest wish, 
 
 Valour's sole meed, and Albion's better crown! 
 
133 
 
 Within whose mystic circle, well defin'd, 360 
 
 Honour resides, and Power, and Truth, and Laws, 
 And sacred Order ; — vaunted, but not known, 
 By tyrant Domination. 
 
 Warm'd, inspir'd, 
 Edwin, alone, beholds; with inward vows 
 Fostering the Patriot glow, and in his heart 365 
 
 Pondering high thoughts: while, as he onward moves, 
 Thro the admiring multitude, his eye 
 Beams with heart-winning smiles of Social Love 
 And Confidence benign. Their alter'd mind 
 Bursts forth in pealing plaudits; and thy towers, 370 
 Iceman Castor, with the Hero's name 
 Ring, echoing: nor less loud, brave Reynier! thine 
 Shout they with gratiilous rapture ; praising oft 
 Thy generous friendship, and heroic zeal, 
 Shewn for the God-like stranger. 
 
 " Such," they cry, 375 
 
 " In Youth — in Virtue, such the warlike pair, 
 " Hengist and Horsa, with inspiring voice, 
 " When from the Rhine and Elb, the Cimbrtan tribes 
 " (Angles and Jutes and Saxons, — kindred names !) 
 " Cheering, they rous'd; and to the fertile vales 280 
 " Of sloth-enfeebled Britain, led the way, 
 " Resistless. So they Iov'd, and so they fought, 
 
134 
 
 " With emulous strife unenvying, till the foe, 
 " With abject terror, to their western wilds 
 " Fled, hopeless; and their smiling pastures left 385 
 " To Woden's conquering Sons. They live again : 
 " Hengist and Horsa, in the Godlike pair 
 " Again revive; and o'er the Grampian hills 
 " And heights of Morven, with resistless march, 
 ; ' Shall wave the conquering banner." 390 
 
 Thus elate, 
 Struck with the fond similitude. From mouth 
 To mouth swift flies the flattering fantazy, 
 Reverberate; as when, from rock to rock, 
 Awaken'd Echo, at still eve, prolongs 
 The shout of lonely traveller, — well pleas'd 395 
 
 With sounds of babbling vacancy to cheer 
 The darkling way. Abash'd, the demon throng 
 (Cowering on heavy wing) their hideous arts 
 Ply fruitless, and confess superior power. 
 
135 
 
 THE SPEECH OF EDWIN, 
 
 Appeasing the tumult excited by the Northumbrian Am- 
 bassadors, at the Nuptial Banquet. 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 FIFTH BOOK OF THE HOPE OF ALBION. 
 
 Now deafening uproar rules: 
 The hall resounds with taunts and factious shouts, 
 And female shrieks, unheeded. Heeded less 
 The royal mandate, and the voice that claims 
 Plighted allegiance, awe and reverence due 695 
 
 To present majesty. Such feeble call 
 Meribah with her clattering wings confounds, 
 Or with her breath disperses. Vain the hands 
 Outstretch'd imploring ; vain the ermin'd robe 
 Wav'd, as for pleaded silence, and the sign 700 
 
 Of royal intercession. King nor sire 
 Attracts obedience. Loyalty is deaf, 
 And filial reverence ; and the furies reign 
 O'er all alike infatuate : all, alike, 
 Thirsting for civil slaughter. To the side 705 
 
 Of Reynier, with fraternal ardour, rush 
 
136 
 
 Erpwold and Sigebert, with eagle rage, 
 Tho yet of callow years ; and many a chief 
 Burning with loyal zeal, and hate (conceal'd) 
 Against Northumbrta's faction. These confront 7 10 
 Beornulph and Egbert, and their minion crew, 
 And many a vassal, turbulent, and proud 
 Of courtly servitude. In many a group 
 Detach'd and orderless, they foam, distract ; 
 Unsheath the gleaming sax, or, from the walls, 7 15 
 Snatch the suspended lance and bossy shield, 
 Or brace the hasty helm. The demon sees, 
 And, with malignant rapture, vulture like, 
 Screams o'er the promis'd fray. 
 
 And now, uncurb'd, 
 Had maddening Havock,and red Slaughter rag'd 720 
 Thro the late festive scene ; and groans, and wounds, 
 And writhing Anguish, and convulsive Death 
 Sung the dread hymeneal : as of old, 
 Whom fabling bards record, the monstrous brood, 
 (Sprung from Ixion, when his baffled rape 725 
 
 Compress'd, in Juno's form, the illusive cloud, 
 Aveng'd in sulphurous Phlegethon) enflam'd 
 By wine to madness, at the genial board, 
 Slaughter'd the Lapithae, and from their bows 
 Dealt winged deaths, resistless: till the arm 730 
 
137 
 
 Of Theseus, with exterminating ire, 
 
 Levell'd the biform'd archers. Such the scene 
 
 Had stain'd the walls of Castor: festal robes 
 
 Had blush'd with purple slaughter, and the veil 
 
 Of beauteous Bertha, like the Colchian bride's 735 
 
 (Ah how unlike in virtue !) had been stain'd 
 
 With kindred blood ; but that, with mind, untaint 
 
 With mad infection, in the general storm 
 
 Calm and collected, o'er the raging crowd 
 
 Edwin arose ; and with a voice that peal'd 740 
 
 Like Heaven's own thunder — such a voice as call'd 
 
 Order from Chaos, when crude atoms rag'd 
 
 In uncreated darkness, check'd their wrath. — 
 
 "And whence this madness, whence this brutal rage 
 " That wars with women, with the unborn babe, 745 
 " And latent embrions of a future race, 
 " Whom now the sax endangers ? who, perchance, 
 " When, in the pal-mal havock overset, 
 " These boards lie prostrate, and these lights extinct, 
 " Shall share promiscuous carnage ; and the breast 750 
 " Of female beauty, that to rapture warms 
 " Each manly bosom, be the mortal sheath 
 " Of ruthless poniards — aim'd by frentic hands 
 " Of human furies, rabid wolves, disguis'd 
 
138 
 
 " In lying lineaments, and serablant brow 755 
 
 " Of manhood, now no more ! And what the cause f 
 
 cc Say, generous Reynier ! can thy manly corpse 
 " Bear wounds and death unshrinking, and thy mind, 
 " OF feebler texture, with effeminate pangs, 
 " Writhe at the stab of words?— of words design'd 
 " To stir thy temper's frailty, and confound 761 
 
 " In murderous uproar the polluted board 
 " Of hospitable mirth: that while, at large, 
 " With indiscriminate fury, slaughter stalks 
 " O'er sex and age, the assassin's arm may reach 765 
 " Thy life and mine : — the exile, and his friend !— 
 " Mine chief, because Northumbrian tyrants know 
 " While virtue glows in one distinguished breast 
 " Of all Northumbrian sons, their crimes must quake 
 < { For hovering justice. Therefore, to the heap 770 
 " Of murder'd patriots — murder'd by the steel 
 " Of lurking Ossa, and the poisonous drug 
 " Steep'd in the bowl convivial — murder'd too 
 " By mock tribunals, and exterior forms 
 "Of sacred institutions, long destroy 'd 775 
 
 " In spirit and essence: empty shews, preserv'd 
 " To war against the substance! — Hence, to these— 
 " (Pardon the poignant fury that transports 
 " My soul to wild digression !) — Hence, to these 
 
139 
 
 " Unbodied patriots, fratricidal rage 780 
 
 " My ghost would add ; and, even on the tide 
 
 " Of royal carnage, (while the frentic sword 
 
 " Of sacrilegious slaughter mows alike 
 
 " Nobles and princes and illustrious dames — 
 
 " Matrons and virgins !) thro the unsunn'd breast 785 
 
 " Of maiden purity — the teeming womb — 
 
 " The bridal bosom ! — even thro the breast 
 
 " Of scepter'd Birtha — (virtuous' more than fair ! — 
 
 " Fairer than great ! tho Albion's sea-girt isle 
 
 " Crouch at her feet !) would reach my guiltless life. 
 
 " But cease your brutal rage. Behold me here, 791 
 
 " A cheaper purchase. I will spare, at least, 
 
 " Half of your guilt. I will not damn ye so — 
 
 " Inhuman sister ! Edwin shall not lay 
 
 " That load of guilt on thy polluted soul 795 
 
 " To answer for such slaughter. Lo, I come. — 
 
 " (What need of massacres ?) — nor fence, nor foin ! — 
 
 " Unhelm'd, and weaponless. 
 
 " Behold my breast, 
 
 " Naked in innocence. No gorget guards, 
 
 " Hauberk, or plaited steel, or magic charm-— 800 
 
 ' : (Unless my virtue be that talisman) 
 
 " Against fierce Ossa's poniard. I can die : 
 l 2 
 
140 
 
 " But I would die in public : die a death 
 
 " Shall prove me worthy of a happier fate, 
 
 " And even in death would triumph : As I shall, 805 
 
 " If here I perish. Albion's unblench'd eye 
 
 " Shall mark the deed indignant ; Fame shall bear 
 
 " To every cot obscure, each lonely sheel 
 
 " On loftiest mountain — every vale's recess 
 
 " And tracless dingle in Northumbrian realm 810 
 
 " The deed detested. Winds shall spread it wide 
 
 " And bubbling fountains murmur as they flow 
 
 " Of Edwin's murder. Even my scatter'd dust — 
 
 " The stains and sediments of my martyr blood 
 
 " Shall cry aloud for vengeance ; and my death 815 
 
 " Give birth to myriads, who, with vengeful arm 
 
 " Omnipotent for freedom, shall arise 
 
 " And crush my vile oppressors. 
 
 " Strike, then ; strike ! — 
 " This flesh encumbers me — this soul of flame 
 " Would fain, (enfranchis'd from its sluggish mass— 
 " The dregs of matter !) thro unbounded space 821 
 " Spread its fierce influence, and in Freedom's cause 
 " Arouse the slumbering world. 
 
 " Strike, then, secure, 
 " Thy murderous poniard, Ossa, to the heart 854 
 " That pants for glorious martyrdom — and knows — 
 
141 
 
 " And seeks to know, between triumphant death, 
 " And freedom's high-born hope, no servile mean P» 
 
 He said sublime — tearing, with resolute hand, 
 The Saxon robe ; and, obvious to assault, 
 Expos'd Life's marble barrier — broad and firm 8 30 
 With rigid muscle and extended vein ; 
 The ample seat of Fortitude divine, 
 And strength, and manly virtue. 
 
 So he stood, 
 Reckless of hostile fury, and for death 
 Collected. But the arm of Ossa shook 835 
 
 With palsied terror : palsied terror too 
 Shook the fell soul of Hermanric : and they, 
 Who ne'er knew pity, nor the throb humane 
 Of gentle sympathy, nor shrunk from crime 
 At voice of Conscience, with mysterious dread 840 
 Bow'd to his awful virtue. All abash'd 
 The factious herd stood heartless: and the throng — 
 Even they who late were hostile (save the few 
 Whom Power had render'd callous) on his words 845 
 Hung all enraptur'd; for Amraphael breath'd 
 Divinest influence thro the spacious hall 
 And hush'd the obstreperous din. The vaulted roof 
 Bow'd listening, and the charmed air was still — 
 
145 
 
 Still as the breeze of evening, when the voice 85b 
 Of Him, the All-Powerful, bids the world repose, 
 And earth and ocean slumber. 
 
 Thus entranc'd 
 In mute attention on the heroic worth 
 Vassals and chiefs gaze, listening ! — gaze the fair, — 
 Fond admiration in their grateful eyes 855 
 
 Swelling to love — to rapture ! not with dread 
 Unmingled, or the sympathetic thrill 
 Of horror — that thro every gentle vein 
 Crept anxious, and towards the mission' d pair 
 Turn'd oft the glance, keen searching; — every glance 
 A venom'd poniard, that, with festering wound, 86 1 
 Punctur'd their guilty hearts. Such pause, awhile, 
 Thro Castor's dome, ensu'd his closing words, 
 And admiration mute. Then, all at once, 
 With choral hands, and shouts that rose to heaven, 865 
 Bursts forth the peeling plaudit that confirms 
 Undoubted triumph : loud as roll the peels 
 Of echoing thunder, when the noxious weight - 
 Of thick incumbent vapours, fly, dispers'd, 
 Their salutary fury. 870 
 
14S 
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 OF 
 
 REYNIER AND ALWIN, 
 
 Demanding an Assembly of the Wittena-Gemot. 
 
 FROM THE SAME BOOK. 
 
 Meantime the fervid Reynier, to confirm 
 Auspicious triumph, and the throne redeem 
 From minion thraldom, as the plaudit faints 
 From shout to murmur, o'er the croud, uprears 
 His graceful front ; and, with extended hand 960 
 Stilling the busy hum, (that, as the sea 
 When raging storms subside, yet heaves and swells, 
 Panting from late commotion,) thus resumes — 
 
 " Well has illustrious Edwin, like himself, 
 " Or like some God, abash'd the ruffian crewj 965 
 " But not destroy'd. Lurking conspiracy 
 " Still broods remoter treasons, not obscure, 
 " Mark'd on the brows of yonder sullen group : 
 " In whose dejected looks, downcast and dim, 
 
144 
 
 " Embers of plausive hope are yet descried : — 970 
 
 " From dark cabal, and closetted intrigue, 
 
 " And private influence, expecting much: — 
 
 " Countenanc'd by past example. But be sure, 
 
 " If there be laws in Anelia — if the throne 
 
 " Be not subverted, and our rights destroy'd, 975 
 
 " Which from our Cimbrian forests we deriv'd, 
 
 " Nor conquer'd here to forfeit — Be assur'd 
 
 " That not in cabinets, by dark intrigue 
 
 " And authoris'd conspiracy, this cause 
 
 " Shall stand decided. 
 
 " Hear, East Anglians ! hear — 980 
 " The realm shall hear: — I claim theGemot's voice: 
 " The soveran voice of congregate East Anglia. 
 " Let her decide, in her collected states, 
 " For honour, or for infamy ; and weigh 
 " Brave Edwin's worth against the haughty threats 
 ", Of Adelfrid and Acca." 986 
 
 As he spoke, 
 O'er every courtly cheek confusion rush'd — 
 Mingled with sullen fury. But not so 
 Listens the hoary Alwin, sage rever'd 1 
 Time-honour'd Nestor of the Uffingian court ! 990 
 The living chronicle of buried worth 
 And deeds of better days ! He, from his seat, 
 
145 
 
 Deliberate, rising, to his silver hairs 
 Claims mute attention ; and, with measur'd phrase, 
 Pregnant with facts and age-attested saws, 995 
 
 Prolix, with querulous voice, supports the claim. 
 
 " Blest is that land, from popular rage secure, 
 " The last of ills ! whose princes plead the cause 
 " Of public freedom ; and, with anxious zeal, 
 " Against encroaching power, or courtly frauds, 1000 
 " (Too oft destructive !) lift the sacred shield 
 " Of antient charters and establish'd rights. 
 " For still, the admiring multitude revere 
 " (Tho prone to giddy change, and often rous'd 
 " By wrongs or insults to licentious rage) 1005 
 
 " The princely name ; and still, with partial pride, 
 " List to the great ; and to the race belov'd 
 " Of their old chieftains, whom, in rhyme or tale, 
 " By blaze of faggot, round the wintry hearth, 
 " Their veteran fathers, or the sager tongue 1010 
 11 Of hoary grandsires, handed down to fame. 
 " Let them but move for freedom, but in part, — 
 " Some little portion of neglected rights, 
 " Or wish'd indulgence, and, by them confer'd, 
 " Dear is the gift: — the very name is dear, 1015 
 
 " Breath'd from their lips ; and gives a prouder joy 
 
146 
 
 " Than all that factious demagogues can paint, 
 " Or innovation seize. 
 
 " Blest, then, this land! 
 " Whose brave apparent heir, the realm's best hope ! 
 " For antient freedom stands, and antient laws, 1020 
 " And guards the people's rights. 
 
 " For me, whose blood 
 " Full fourscore winters, and the hardships born 
 " In many a rough campaign, have chill'd and drain'd 
 " To the last ebb of nature — Me, no more 
 " Useful in camps, or in the listed field, 1025 
 
 " Where once, conspicuous o'er my youthful peers, 
 " I shone, not unapplauded ! — now my arm 
 " Wields not the pondrous mace; nor can I bear 
 " The weighty helmet, or the iron mail, 
 " Or rein the active steed .-—what can I more 1030 
 " To honour Woden, who, his battles done, 
 " Beneath Hydrassil's shade, — his sacred ash, 
 " Deep-rooted in the dwellings of the Fates, 
 " And spread aloft to heaven, — in judgment sits, 
 " Dispensing laws and right! — what can I more 1035 
 " Than war for freedom, in the wordy strife 
 " Of public councils? and my feeble voice 
 " Join with illustrious Reynier, and demand 
 " The assembled Gemot ?— where, in sage debate, 
 
147 
 
 u Frequent and free, theimportantpointdiscuss'd 1040 
 " May boast the public sanction. So the prince 
 " Advis'd, well-judging. So I give my vote : 
 " Beneath the frost of age, preserving yet 
 M The genial glow of Freedom. 
 
 " I could wish 
 " Some younger chief had shewn the honest zeal 1045 
 " Nobly to second what was nobly mov'd. 
 " But youth degenerates. — I have seen the days 
 " (When Anglia triumph'd, and when UfFa reign'd) 
 " Applauding chieftains would have crack'd their lungs 
 " With honest plaudits, and one general shout 1050 
 " Have echo'd joyous thro the emulous throng 
 " To hear their prince thus advocate their rights."— • 
 
 So Alwin spoke ; and, garrulous with age, 
 Had long proceeded, but, with haughty voice, 
 Vex'd and impatient, from his seat uprose 1055 
 
 Imperious Hermanric, and thus reprov'd — 
 
 " Dotard ! no more. Enough this presence knows 
 " Your plotted treason, and sedition mov'd — 
 " Calling the turbulent council. Shall we hear 
 " The dull rehearsal of your purpos'd saws, 1060 
 " And factious preparation ? or attend, 
 
148 
 
 " Till break of morning, to this old wife's tale 
 " Of days of yore, and Uffa's pious reign? 
 
 " Go drawl your maxims round the wintery hearth 
 " To slavering grey-beards, trembling, like yourself, 
 " On Hela's brink: the misty home of such 1066 
 f\ As die of stale garrulity. For us — 
 " We pause no longer o'er the stagnant bowl, 
 " Slumber who may. But, be it known to all, 
 " We are no triflers. Redowald's voice has fixt 1070 
 " The second sun that the next dawn ensues 
 " For final answer. We expect it then; 
 " Or thundering war shall claim it in these walls 
 " And chase your factious Gemots.' 
 
 As he spoke, 
 With slight observance to the royal chair, 1075 
 
 He left the hall, indignant, with his peer 
 Ferocious Ossa. Then, with gloomy brow, 
 (Brooding dark thoughts, that the protruded lip 
 Close rigid, and the self-communing eye 
 Sink in the socket rayless !) striding slow, 1080 
 
 Beornulph pursues. Intent he seem'd, and big 
 With secret purpose, that his labouring breast 
 Heav'd, as for vent; and, by attraction drawn 
 Of soul congenial, thro the aisle, he thrids 
 
149 
 
 Their steps with equal pace: as thro the air, 1035 
 Noxious with lazy mists, the impregnant cloud ; 
 O'ercharg'd with sulphurous fluid, slowly sails, 
 Darkening mid heaven ; then on some gloomy mass, 
 Latent with like combustion, crashing bursts, 
 With dire explosion: — direful to the swain 1090 
 
 Struck in the hideous contact. 
 
 Round the throne 
 Oswald and Egbert, and the minion crew 
 Throng anxious : for the Gemot's threaten'd call 
 Rang ominous in their ears; lest, not alone 
 Balk'd in their present purpose, the strong light 1095 
 Of popular discussion might reveal 
 Their practic'd treasons ; and avenging wrath, 
 Tho tardy, fall on long-protected crimes. 
 
150 
 
 THE FIRST GRAY HAIR. 
 
 And thou hast ijhang'd thyVhuej^ coripanion^ stak} 
 
 O^ forty* varying years [ thy parkesti browA 
 
 Shifting to [silveryV whiteness^ \\Be ill so : \ \ 
 
 It\js not the\first\time\that I haveViet 
 
 An^ old acquaintances with ak alter' <\ face ;\ 5 
 
 \ And\'twili again betide rad: \or the Yhee\ 
 O^ every giddy ^FortuneVnust for^gcV 
 Hei\old prd|pension\ and noVnore invert 
 My\oft de^uded\hopes\ VBut, of\ thy |cind,\ 
 Not v Fortunys steadiest: favours^ nor hej^ hate, \ 10 
 Can\stay theVlestin'd course^ \yMute\ monitor l\ 
 
 \Thou art, indeed, 'hut as the^harbingerX 
 Onmany a change ajtoroaching\ that shall soon\ 
 To^ali thy \aumerous\trib^ imtoartthy T^ue :\ \ 
 Dappleing, a\^first,\witl\many aVvintery\spotA 15 
 Tilkall is^qual\.snow.\ \ 
 
 Well \ my\firmViindA 
 Tha^many auess ejtoectecfci change hatn, borne,^ 
 Can\bear\that,^also\ \ \ 
 
151 
 
 Hoverinjg Winter! hail *.\- | 
 Hail to the \vrinklecl front an<ii hoary tyrow l\ 
 
 | Not from thy reveren^ aspec\ do I s^hrinlq 20 
 
 Season ot\ { waning life\ ! \if that thy snows^ 
 
 | Incrustinjjr all witfyout,\ leavie yet wi^iin \ 
 
 The genia^ warmth ofy friendship\;^-Aif thou bring 
 -4(So \yvinter\ should) the ^calm and social jo^is 
 OF dear a^france\ and corAmuniori sweet\ 25 
 
 Witl^ few congenial mindq ;janc( not withhold^ 
 Quiet and conipetencel jresjoect and lov^ 
 And literary | eisure- :— Vif\ o'e^ all,\ 
 Thoubot recuse to^hem — m^ infant^ budsV- 
 (Theifiope anq" promise of attuture\springl) 30 
 
 \Kindly pro^ectior\ from theyuffiaA blast^ 
 Migti^ mar theiii tende^ germs.\ ( \ 
 
 O ! Uive met yet I 
 Er^ dull ii^actiomfreeze the Wpia vein,\ 
 0\ numbing languorjcramp the litat powers 
 O^ sedulou^ effortj^-AGive mel yeti to jreai 35 
 
 The sjhelterinW fence o^ competence! to ikuardl 
 These from the plight! ;l and I irill not rejpine\ 
 ThaijNaturels wheel reVolves\;\I jwrill noi mourili 
 My spring o\ stormsL myipumme^ over|past,( \ 
 Or\toils autumna^ that the (wayward year\ 40 
 
 Strive to rejpair \ but the llastl wintery\hour\ 
 
152 
 
 Accept as patui4's boonjf [and evenj then,|— 
 When thyVlim\twilight\ o'er theyudious. eye\ 
 Steals darkling^ and the Wterin& step forgoes 
 The bride o!^ wontec^ firmness^ will I tend 45 
 
 My \inre^ining\ weight^ ;-M§ haply Wopti 
 Upon the \natroi^ arrri| or* per, belov'd \\— 
 
 \ Mypithfufcstayyhro\every\woe of\life !-(- 
 
 \ Or on the^filial shoulder\ rest, aVhile^ 
 My \vaning\ strengtl^, that \each suAcessivd day \ \50 
 Counts by soiije new pri^atior^; \till, atj lengthl 
 (f ach|unctioi^ and each duty|all fulfiH'd)| 
 
 \ Pleas'd with the\thoughtj— I ^iave not\liv'd in[vain,| 1 
 I lay me Vlown ; \and, on the buiei couch! 
 Of\ unrebrovin^ conscience^ pillowing me^ \ 55 
 
 Welcome my aooml an<!^, smiling, sink toirest.l 
 
 THE END. 
 
 J. M'Creery, Printer, 
 BlackJIorse-Court, Fleet-Street, London. 
 
ADDENDA 
 
 THE COTTAGE OF THE WESTERN MOOR. 
 
 SO kvhite was the IcottageJ the thatch was so heat,] 
 
 And theWlantine porch form'd so shady a seat,] 
 
 That I fraz'd and I, sigh'd\ as I Wss'd on the road-j- 
 
 r O li that mine were so itranqui! arid sweet an abode !'[ J ^ 
 
 Tho sVnall was the garden that compass'd ifc round^ 
 And no k aua "y exotics\em|>ellish'd the £round,\ 
 Smoothly\spread the'gree^turitand the \vild-flow'rs wer\^ sweet,\ 
 Tha\ breath 'd their perWAe round the tranquil retreat. | \ \ 
 
 'Twas a come for a ^oeMnPhilpsopher-Vr-Sage ,\ 
 'Twas a Vradle foir youth4— an asvlum for^ age,\ 
 Where theWorld's wilderinj^ carp, and ifjs y>rrows migh^cease; \ 
 \For\ all was huniility, Icomfort and peace. \ \ \ 
 
 Anc\ what are Ambition, and Grandeur, and Pride ?^ 
 Sa;y\ye,\who the potter's low mansion decide. \ \ \ 
 Caii suites of gay^hamber^, ancl liveried parade, \ 
 Exclude the rude\woe^that lifeXs pleasures inyade?^ \ \ 
 
 M 
 
154 
 
 Ah !'. no :\on the brows of the^affluent ana great, \ 
 
 Sii$ soul-cankering Care) in dark: triumph elate ; \ 
 
 Save wheii Folly's lew'cl revels and\Riot arfe sought 3 \ 
 
 To redeem them a^hiPe from the torment oi\ thought.^ ^ > 
 
 Afyay then, ye <^reams of Ambition and Pride ;\ 
 With the fever oV youthl let its passions subside :\ 
 \ Ah !\ grant mel ere ULife's mellow^ Autumn shalAfade,i ) 
 TheVieatly thatch'ii cot and the\eglantirxe shade. \ 
 
 Westmoreland, 1804. 
 
155 
 
 THE TEAR. 
 
 TO MISS GEDDES. 
 
 I TALK'D of the woes of theMays that areWst^ \ 
 
 Of afflictions ana trials seVere ; \ 
 How theViay-morn ot lifejwas with storm oveAcast, \ 
 How the Mossoms ot hope\ were alii nipt in the fylast \ 
 
 — ^And Beautjlt sa&list'ning tolhear.| \ \ 
 
 0\ hardships ana dangers) andmany a w\rong\ 
 
 And oS toils that be^ett me so War ; \ 
 Of treachery^s snarfe and ingratitude's tongue\ 
 l\old,-Vand 'twas pleasant the^tale to proVong,l 
 
 •^For Beauty repaid with a \ear.^ \ \ 
 
 Ah ! [soft form of Beauty !\ that Maddens the soul ! \ 
 
 Is kught as thyi sympathyldear ! | 
 When the bright-beamirig eyesl with benignity jroll ;-^~ 
 Whenheaves thy fulibosoni witA Pity's confroul^ 
 I And thy\ roses are Wash'd with a tear ?j I \ 
 M 2 
 
156 
 
 Whe\jt dark roll the tlouas that o'eA-shadow oui doom,\ 
 
 WheA toils and when, dangers a]War,-4- 
 When the sWm-threateninW wave^ all theii terrors assume J 
 Then the sunbeam on hopk that would scatter the tloom,\ 
 - \ 0\Beauty\! must\shine thro' altear.| \ \ 
 
 Yes peauty ! \ thy tear, that from Sympathj\ flows, \ 
 
 To Manhood shall ever be ^Jear :\ 
 \ 'Tis the balm of al\ illsAand theWre of all\ woes -,\ \ 
 And the neart-ranklin^ wounds of rer^emberande shall close^ 
 
 That peauty has wash'd with a\tear.\ 
 
 Glasgow, 1804. 
 
ODE 
 
 FROM THE LAND OF MOUNTAINS. 
 
 THE first idea of the following Ode, (both in the 
 thoughts and the tarn of expression, as well as with re- 
 spect to the metrical experiment of methodizing the 
 incoherent rhythmus of Ossian ;) was suggested while the 
 author was travelling over the mountains between Haw- 
 ick and Selkirk, in his way to Edinburgh, in the year 
 1803. It has since undergone several revisions ; and 
 whatever merits or defects it may have, as a poetical no- 
 velty, — to the student of elocution it will be found a useful 
 exercise. For such purpose, however, it is to be remem- 
 bered — that every bar fas in a piece of music,) whatever 
 be the number of syllables it may inclose, indicates the 
 same integral admeasurement of time : the grammati- 
 cal pauses, and the emphatic, or rhetorical quantities 
 of particular syllables, (where, in just delivery, they would 
 occur,) and the contractions and dilations of particular 
 elements, as dictated by the facilities of organic action, 
 under particular modes or accidents of combination, 
 constituting, as well as the inherent quantities of those 
 
158 
 
 elements, or of the syllables separately considered, essen- 
 tial parts of the measure. 
 
 English Syllables differing from each other in their 
 quantities, at least, in all the various proportions from 
 eight to one, it is obvious — that nothing less than a 
 complete system of musical notation, from the mi7iim to 
 the semiquaver, or from the semibreve to the quaver, 
 could accurately indicate the respective proportions of 
 every syllable to the eye ; and such notation is, there- 
 fore, occasionally appealed to, in the exercises of the 
 Institution; but for general purposes, it is perhaps suffi- 
 cient, — at least it is all that can conveniently be done 
 in a printed copy, merely to superadd the customary in- 
 dications of quantity to those syllables that are either 
 lengthened, beyond their usual proportion, by a just rheto- 
 rical emphasis, or accelerated in their utterance by acci- 
 dental association ; together with a general notification of 
 grammatical pause, where the quantity of the cadence 
 might else appear imperfect, or the position of a syllable 
 be supposed to indicate something more than its inherent, 
 or just rhetorical quantity. 
 
 It ought however to be observed — that the notations of 
 long and short (" ST w ) indicate, in this specimen, the 
 general quantities of the syllables, not the quantities of 
 the specific elements over which they are placed. Upon 
 minute analysis, it will, I believe, be found — that the em- 
 
159 
 
 phatic quantity of a prolonged syllable, and, indeed, the 
 quantity of spoken syllables in general, much more 
 frequently belongs to the liquid than to the vowel : to the 
 element, for example, zvhich we so awkwardly represent 
 by the compound ng, in the word songs; not to the 
 preceding o. It is, indeed, one of the essential cir- 
 cumstances by which the melody of speech is contradistin- 
 guished from that of song, that the swell and continuity 
 of the voice should he more perceptibly on the vowels in the 
 latter, and upon the sonorous consonants in the former : 
 a distinction which can never be practically disregarded 
 without offence to the ear of taste, tho I do not remember 
 that it has heretofore been insisted upon by the discri- 
 mination of criticism. 
 
 To this notation let the recollection be superadded, 
 that the heavy poise ( ' l) or impulse in Thesis, always 
 belongs to the initial syllable of every cadence, or bar, 
 and to that alone j and that the obvious progress, or me- 
 trical impulse of the voice, (in all graceful and harmo- 
 nious utterance,) is constantly from the heavy to the light 
 syllable, — never from the light to the heavy. These con- 
 siderations premised and understood, — it may safely be 
 affirmed — that there is no pupil who hath either an ear 
 for music, a tolerably accurate idea of its most sim- 
 ple principles, or a clear apprehension of mathemati- 
 cal proportions, zvho may not derive elocutionary advan- 
 
160 
 
 tages from the study and recitation of this compo- 
 sition. 
 
 The reader who shall completely understand this system 
 of rhythmus, — a system not originating in invention, but 
 founded in analysis ! — (the analysis of vocal phenomena 
 and the necessities of organic action ; and of which this 
 specimen is Meant to exhibit one of the most complicated 
 illustrations that can come within the ascertainable limits 
 of versification ;) zoill, most assuredly, never find any 
 difficulty in eliciting the richest harmony from many of 
 those very lines of our immortal Milton, which the igno- 
 rant pedantry of criticism has stigmatized as unrhythmical 
 and prosaic. 
 
 IT is the | voice of | songs, | echoing from the (Land of | Mountains ; 
 
 Its | warblings are the | breath of | Love. [ | | 
 It | calleth, in its | speed, r for the j sounding j wings of j eagles; | 
 
 It would | rival the | track of j winds. | | | 
 It | fle-eth to the | faithful j bosom | r of the bejloved : | 
 
 To the | pillow of j tender | thoughts : | | | 
 There | fain would it | murmur | *~ the soft | message of the j heart; 
 
 There [ whisper of dejlightr and [ peace. | | | 
 
 Thou art the |sunbeam of the] wintery | soul^j mourner of | absence ! 
 Even | thou" 1 the bejloved of my f heart ! | | | 
 
161 
 
 The | sunbeam of | joy*" | scattering the | stormy | clouds, i 
 
 And illumining the | mountain | path. | i | 
 Thy | image is be | fore me"l in the ] lovely | track of | light, | 
 
 And thy | voice") in the i moaning | wind. | | | 
 For | sad" 1 are the | moanings of my ] Love, r | lonely | lingering ! | 
 
 And | mournful" 1 the | lustre of her | eye. [ | | 
 
 When— | when will ye | cease, '"(storm clouds of | wayward | destiny ! j 
 
 Enjvelopping our | joys no j more ? 1 1 1 
 Ah! — | when shall the [ dark-chilling [vapours," 1 ) lightly | scattering,! 
 
 Disjperse from the | hills of | distance ? | | | 
 When, r | welcome to the | way-worn | foot of the | lonely | wanderer j 
 
 Shall the | vale of dejlight exjpand ? | | I 
 Oh ! | sunbeam of the | heart { S |^ shine | forth upon my j dreams ! | 
 
 And be j present" 1 in the | visions of the | day ! J 
 
 IT is the voice of songs, echoing from the Land of Mountains; 
 
 Its warblings are the breath of Love. 
 It calleth, in its speed, for the sounding wings of eagles; 
 
 It would rival the track of winds. 
 It fleeth to the faithful bosom of the beloved : 
 
 To the pillow of tender thoughts : 
 There fain would it murmur the soft message of the heart ; 
 
 There whisper of delight and peace. 
 
m 
 
 Thou art the sunbeam of the wintery soul, mourner of absence! 
 
 Even thou the beloved of my heart ! 
 The sunbeam of joy scattering the stormy clouds, 
 
 And illumining the mountain path. 
 Thy image is before me in the lovely track of light, 
 
 And thy voice in the moaning wind. 
 For sad are the moanings of my Love, lonely lingering ! 
 
 And mournful the lustre of her eye. 
 
 When — when will ye cease, storm clouds of wayward destiny ! 
 
 Envelopping our joys no more ? 
 Ah '.-—when shall the dark-chilling vapours, lightly scattering, 
 
 Disperse from the hills of distance ? 
 When, welcome to the way-worn foot of the lonely wanderer 
 
 Shall the vale of delight expand ? 
 Oh ! sunbeam of the heart ! shine forth upon my dreams ! 
 
 And be present in the visions of the day ! 
 
JEFFERY. 
 
 A RHYTHMICAL EXERCISE: 
 
 BY A PUPIL OF THE INSTITUTION. 
 
 WHILE from the desert coast with lessening oar 
 
 The boat withdrew, upon the beach he sate 
 
 With forc'd and stern composure ; for within 
 
 His heaving breast unwonted passion glow'd, 
 
 And the strong feeling of indignant woe. 5 
 
 But when the horizon and the ocean's verge, 
 
 Bounded his view, and when the distant sail 
 
 Seem'd like a speck in heav'n's bright azure; then, 
 
 Then his heart sunk within him ; on his sight 
 
 Rush'd the full crowd of horrors, and he turn'd 10 
 
 To mark the dismal scene. Barren and dry, 
 
 Heav'd the unfruitful earth ; no living thing 
 
 Dwelt on its rugged surface, and no bird 
 
 Wing'd near its conscious flight. For here, alas ! 
 
 Famine had fix'd her desolate domain. 15 
 
 But still, some glimmerings of delusive hope 
 
 Warm'd his sad breast, and round the desert isle 
 
 Headlong he ran, if haply he might find 
 
 Some herb nutritious, or some bubbling stream 
 
164 
 
 To cool the burning fever of bis blood. 20 
 
 Vain was his anxious search ; then faint and sad, 
 
 His wearied limbs upon the lonely beach 
 
 He laid, in silent anguish ; never yet 
 
 Did wretch so comfortless, so woe- begone, 
 
 Invoke the blessings of refreshing sleep :- — 25 
 
 But not to him, upon her downy wings, 
 
 Refreshment came, nor soft oblivion's balm 
 
 Restorative. 
 
 When silent night had gain'd 
 The middle sky, the miserable man 
 Rose from his troubled slumbers. Not a breath 30 
 Disturb'd the foliage ; no refreshing breeze 
 Play'd o'er the undulating wave : on high, 
 Clouded with noxious vapours, dank and dim, 
 Shone the pale stars. It was a pain to breathe 
 The heavy air ; he trembled as he heard 35 
 
 His own deep sighs heave frequent, and he wish'd 
 Rather to hear the wolf's long howl, the roar 
 Of ravenous lions than to rest alone 
 In that accursed silence. Then each crime, 
 Each lawless sally of intemperate youth, 40 
 
 Each sinful word, with fearful agony . 
 Remember'd, as in terrible array 
 At the tribunal of the all-seeing Judge, 
 
165 
 
 Rush'd on his mind ; and conscience' angry form 
 Assum'd new horrors from the lonely scene. 45 
 
 Clad in the smiling mantle of the spring 
 The morning dawn'd ; but brought, alas ! no joy 
 To his benighted soul. For now the pangs 
 Of raging hunger and insatiate thirst, 
 Prey'd on his wasted frame. Cheerless, again, 50 
 
 He cours'd the desert isle : then, sick at heart, 
 Upon the rugged beach he laid him down, 
 And on his hand reclin'd his aching temples. 
 Deeply he sobb'd, and wept ; if tears they were, 
 That in his burning eyes with scanty drops 55 
 
 Rose scalding ; for his heat-exhausted frame 
 Could yield no more. Over the green expanse, 
 That heav'd and glitter'd in the morning beam, 
 He cast one long, one melancholy look. 
 O might he view some heav'n-directed sail 60 
 
 Swelling above the horizon ! To his mind 
 The image of his birth-place, and his home, 
 Ne'er to be seen again, and every face 
 Of friend belov'd, in sad rememberance, rose. 
 So pass'd the long, the miserable day. 65 
 
 Ideal phantoms thro' the live-long night 
 Disturb'd the wretch's slumbers ; and he saw 
 
166 
 
 The meagre form of famine, ghastly pale, 
 
 In all her terrors clad, and heard her voice 
 
 Yell in his ears, and scream his funeral song. 70 
 
 A second sun arose : the wretched man 
 Felt, cold and chill, the unutterable pang 
 Of comfortless despair. 
 
 O ! it is sweet, 
 Secure ourselves, in pleasing terror rapt, 
 To hear the tale of horror ; but to see, 7-5 
 
 To feel the dread reality, to know 
 No human help, no human comfort near, 
 Alone, and desolate, to pine, and die 
 The lingering death of famine — gracious heav'ns ! 
 Who can with breast of human sympathy, SO 
 
 Dwell on the sad extremity of woe. 
 Full many a time, had the poor sufferer brav'd 
 With manly front and fearless fortitude, 
 Death in his angriest form : when thro' the air 
 Hurtled the death-fraught thunder, and on high 85 
 Stream'd the red ruin ; in Aboukir's bay 
 When Nelson conquer'd ; when Trafalgar's cape 
 Witness'd the triumphs of the martyr chief ; 
 Or when the angry demon of the storm 
 Howl'd in the blast, and o'er the shatter'd bark 90 
 
167 
 
 The mountain wave hung imminent : unmov'd, 
 
 This had he seen and suffer'd; and amid 
 
 The work of death, was wont, with ardent glee, 
 
 To chaunt his naval war-song ; now, alas ! 
 
 With sickly fear and shuddering agony, 9£ 
 
 He shook convulsively. For never yet 
 
 Did death appear so terrible, so full 
 
 Of harrowing anguish, and mysterious dread. 
 
 O had he pour'd his life-blood when he fought 100 
 
 His country's battles, and in freedom's cause 
 
 Had died triumphantly ! 
 
 Another day 
 Succeeds ; slow, and more slow, the tide of life 
 Rolls on its scanty current j his big heart 
 Heaves with unwonted flutterings ; every nerve 
 Thrills with the pang of exquisite distress. 
 And now, so. keen the agony that rends 105 
 
 His tortur'd frame, so fierce the raging fire 
 That burns his inmost vitals, that no more 
 He bears the anguish of protracted death. 
 Swift to the rock, that o'er the raging deep 110 
 
 Incumbent tower'd, with eager haste he rush'd, 
 Firm in the purpose of despair. Awhile, 
 With momentary fearfulness, he stay'd, 
 To mark the setting sun, and one last look 
 
168 
 
 Fix'd on the parting glory. On his sight, 11.5 
 
 That moment burst, in all the pomp of sail, 
 
 The bellying canvas ; loud he rais'd his voice, 
 
 With all the frenzied ecstacy of joy, 
 
 And wav'd his hand on high. They hear, they see, 
 
 They guide the bark to that disastrous shore. 120 
 
 The quick reverse of unexpected bliss 
 His strength o'ercame, and as the rapturous hope 
 Flash 'd on his weak and agitated mind, 
 He fell, exhausted, on the lonely sand. 124 
 
 R. C. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
MONODY 
 
 ON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX 
 
 By Mr. THE L WALL. 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION, CORRECTED, 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 
 BY J. m'creery, black-horse-court, fleet-street. 
 
 And sold by Mr. Phillips, Bridge-Street, Black-friars ; Messrs. Arch, Cornhill ; 
 Mr. Ridgeway, York-Street; Mr. Carpenter, Bond-Street; Mr. Lloyd, 
 Harley-Street ; and Mrs. Lynott, Grenville-Street, Brunswick-Square. 
 
 1806. 
 
MONODY 
 
 OH Friends ! oh Britons ! — if, with tearful eyes, 
 And heaving breast, slow, from your Patriot's grave. 
 You hither turn, — in hopes some strain to hear 
 May soothe your sufferings, — some melodious lay, 
 Fit to embalm his memory, and record 5 
 
 His worth unequall'd, — ah! that hope forego ; 
 For I have nought but sorrow to return 
 To your mute sorrows : I must echo back 
 v(In place of Eulogies of lofty strain) 
 Sighs to your sighs, and to your tears repay 10 
 
 Tears all as fruitless : I, with you, can bend 
 Prone o'er the earth, whose cold — cold breast inurns 
 Nature's chief pride ; — the intellectual boast — 
 The grace — the glory of a widow'd age ; 
 But can, alas ! no more. Or if, amid 15 
 
 My frequent heaving sobs, the struggling voice, 
 
Should, plaintive, force its intermittent way, 
 And the big heart unburthen, — can that voice 
 (By sorrow thus untun'd) e'er reach those notei 
 Of highest rapture, whose accordant swell 20 
 
 Should sound the Patriot's, sound the Statesman's praise, 
 ■ — The Sage — the Orator — the all-inspir'd, 
 And all-inspiring, comprehensive mind ! 
 
 Ah no ! (for me unstrung) the Epic Lyre 
 Passes to other hands. Not mine to wake 25 
 
 The sounding strings — that, with responsive swell, 
 Should ring, — re-echoing to thy matchless praise, 
 Thrice-honour'd Fox !— Yet, may thy loftier Fame 
 Claim its full record from a heart as warm, — 
 A soul as conscious of thy worth sincere 30 
 
 And energy benignant ! — from a hand 
 More skill'd — more free to dwell on every chord 
 May vibrate to thy glory ! I, the while, 
 Will, o'er the plaintive Lute, in humbler strains, 
 Dwell on thy Moral Worth : — thy social praise, $5 
 In the calm walks of Friendship ; — in the scenes 
 Of still retirement, — where each milder grace 
 (That from the heart's warm fountain, undefiTd, 
 Drinks its pure nurture) blossoms into life !^ — 
 My humbler verse (the Statesman's praise foregone) 40 
 
Shall hail the Man ! — the social heart shall haih 
 Benignant and urbane ! — a dearer theme, 
 And less obnoxious to the partial taint 
 Of prejudice and passion ! 
 
 Here, O Fox ! 
 Thy praise resounds unquestion'd : — Here the crest 45 
 Of Envy shrinks, in impotence, abash'd, 
 And all her snakes are stingless. To this theme, 
 In full accordance, every ear shall bend, 
 And every bosom vibrate : nor, "while yet 
 Rememberance in the vital seat remains 50 
 
 Of one who knew thy virtues, e'er shall cease 
 The cordial retrospection. Oft the Friend^ 
 In bursting agony of soul, shall sob, 
 Tear-choak'd, thy praises ; — the Companion gay 
 Of thy unbending hours, — oft as the cup 55 
 
 You wont to pledge, shall take the accustom'd round, 
 Shall pause in musing sadness ; — they who mark'd, 
 At casual distance, or with passing glance, 
 Chance led r thy artless manners, — thy mild port 
 And affable demeanour, shall respond 60 
 
 The grateful theme ; and even thy bitterest foe — 
 (For who thro public scenes and life's turmoil 
 Can walk, with conscious energy erect, 
 Foeless or urn evil'd ?) — thy bitterest foe 64 
 
Shall join with friends and strangers, here, to owa 
 
 Thy praise unrivall'd : — -to thy grave shall press, 
 
 Amid the throng promiscuous : — and, if 
 
 He hath a heart, (remembering what thou wert — 
 
 To friend how ardent ! and to foe how mild !— «■ 
 
 How like a rock, in all the fix'd regards 19 
 
 Of gratitude and kindness ; but to wrongs 
 
 How unretentive J — flexible and soft 
 
 As yielding childhood, that impression takes 
 
 But as a passing shadow !) — even he, 
 
 Shall all his rankling enmities resign, 75 
 
 And weep — he e'er was hostile. 
 
 And O thou !— 
 (Could earth once more reclaim thee !) — even thou 
 — Spirit of fire ! that, in eccentric course, 
 Rov'd thro each sphere of science J — o'er-illum'd 
 With Heaven's too ardent flame ! — intemperate 80 
 Of genius, as of Passion !— even thou, 
 Soul-kindling Burke ! hadst thou beheld this day, 
 Had melted to rememberance ; and, with voice 
 All eloquent of sorrow, had confess d, — 
 With pride, the Pupil ; with despair, the friend. 85 
 
 Yes, such the boundless sympathy shall swell, 
 Thy solemn Dirge— O honour'd ! O rever'4 
 
In every social sphere ! — thy virtues such, — 
 
 Transcending o'er my praise, lamented Fox 1 — 
 
 Virtues — that, thro the tenour of thy Life 90 
 
 Have flow'd unmingled, — save by such alloy, 
 
 As from the untam'd energies of youth 
 
 Too frequent spring : — taints of o'er-vigbrOus sap ; 
 
 That, in the vernal season, burst, too oft, 
 
 The swelling rind, and take a canker in, 95 
 
 That hastens (immature) the autumnal fall. 
 
 And such, perhaps, thy penance ! — Hence, perhaps. 
 So soon we mourn thee lost. — The sentient nerve, 
 First by the error, the contrition next 
 O'erstrain'd and harrass'd, yielded, ere its hour, 100 
 To Time's sure inroad ; and Affection mourns, — 
 Of half her hopes defrauded. 
 
 Yet — to us, 
 If, from the o'erwhelming flood and heedless tide 
 Of youthful ebullition, thus remain 
 Lasting regret ; — yet, not to thee remains 105 
 
 Opprobrium's lasting taint:— how well redeem'd ! — 
 When, in maturer years, and in the hour 
 Of sharp corrosive trial, full appear'd, 
 In Truth's clear mirror, the reflected scene 
 Of Folly's wild career. Resurgent, then, 110 
 
With what elastic energy, upsprung 
 Thy buoyant mind ! and how sublimely soar'd ! 
 Beyond example, constant in resolve : 
 Reforming and atoning. 
 
 Nor in vain, 
 For thine, or Nature's glory, came the hour 115 
 
 Of such afflictive trial : — blest in this — 
 That 'twas thy favouring destiny to prove 
 Friendship no empty name ; — to blend with hearts 
 True to themselves in thee : whose justice prov'd 
 Them not unworthy of the age — the clime 120 
 
 Thy manly worth adorn'd ! — Ah doubly blest — 
 There (where 'tis dearest to the soul, to find 
 A faithful friend) — to find such friend thy own, — 
 Even where the settled Prudence of the world 124 
 Would least have sought; and, the rich treasure prov'd, 
 To have turn'd thy frailty to an act of grace 
 And soar'd to Justice, where no Custom bound. 
 
 But cease, my heaving bosom ! — check the strain, 
 Inadequate and faint ! that vainly seeks 
 To enumerate his virtues ; — to reveal 1 30 
 
 The heart — the soul, that nobly soar'd above 
 The vulgar limits of Tradition's rule — : 
 Expansive and sublime. Let, those who knew, 
 
From intimate affiance, — who have shar'd . 
 
 His bosom's confidence, — the cordial flow I Si 
 
 Of his attractive converse ; — who have seen 
 
 His eye, expressive of the awaken d heart, 
 
 Beaming in all its fulness ; — Let them pour 
 
 From the abundant treasury of their griefs 
 
 The copious eulogy ; in ample Lay, 1 40 
 
 His ampler heart delineate ; and record 
 
 What the swoln breast has treasur'd. Chiefly thou — 
 
 By either Muse, inspir'd ! — by friendship more ; 
 
 O Sheridan ! indulge the mournful theme 
 
 That claims thy flowing verse. Thou, skill'd alike, 
 
 To pour the stream of Heliconian song, 146 
 
 Inspiring ; or the not less rapturous tide 
 
 Of soul-exciting eloquence ! — O seize, 
 
 Once more the Lyre ; and call, from every eye, 
 
 The Tear's full torrent ! — wake in every heart I50 
 
 The glow of admiration : — the strong throb 
 
 Of emulous regret, — that what, it mourns, 
 
 Pants to resemble. In some deathless Lay 
 
 Sound — sound his praises ! that the world may hear, 
 
 And consecrate thy friendship and his worth. 155 
 
 We, sad, the while, will, o'er his hallow'd urn, 
 Pour our full sorrows ; and full oft invoke 
 
10 
 
 His venerable name : with cherish'd love, 
 
 From sire to son (while generations last) 
 
 Transmit his mem5ry : — for, oh ! if e'er 160 
 
 Virtue was sacred held, — if excellence 
 
 Of heart and head, — if large capacious soul, — 
 
 If liberal Feelings join'd with Thought profound, 
 
 And Eloquence with Wisdom's strength sustain'd ; 
 
 — If Knowledge wedded to Simplicity, — 165 
 
 The Maiden's meekness, with the Sage's lore ; — 
 
 If these, can claim our reverence, and command 
 
 A lasting admiration, — then ; as long 
 
 As record lives, — as Memory loves to dwell 
 
 On past example, Fox, in every heart 170 
 
 Shall find a Cenotaph : His image there 
 
 Shall live, inscrib'd with characters of truth ; 
 
 And Time (while Time shall last) preserve the Name 
 
 — To Albion } and to social Virtue dear. 
 
 finis. 
 
 y. M'Creery, Printer, Black-Horse-Court> 
 Fleet- Street. 
 
THIS Monody, being designed as a companion to the Poem, 
 and Oration on the Death of Lord Nelson, is printed, as nearly 
 as practicable, in the same style and type. If the time of the 
 Lecturer should permit, it is intended that the Funeral Ora- 
 tion should be published also : that his humble attempts to com~ 
 memorate tzco of the most interesting events in the records of 
 modern obituary; may be laid before the public in the co?ive- 
 nient form of a small and uniform volume. 
 
THELWALLS SELECTIONS. 
 
 The COUNTRY BUMPKIN and RAZOR SELLER. 
 
 P. PINDAR. 
 
 A fellow, in a market-town, 
 
 Most musical, cried razors up and down, 
 
 Andoffer'd twelve for eighteen pence; 
 
 Which, certainly, seem'd wonderous cheap, 
 
 And, for the money, quite a heap 5 
 
 That every man would buy, with cash and sense. 
 
 A country bumpkin the great offer heard; 
 
 Poor Hodge, — who suffer'd by a broad black beard, 
 That seem'd a shoe-brush stuck beneath his nose : 
 
 With cheerfulness the eighteen-pence he paid, 10 
 
 And, proudly, to himself, in whispers, said — 
 " This rascal stole the razors, I suppose. 
 
 " No matter if the fellow be a knave, 
 
 44 Provided that the razors /have ; 
 44 It certainly will be a monstrous prize." 15 
 
 So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, — 
 
 Smiling, — in heart and soul content, 
 And quickly soap'd himself to ears and eyes. 
 
 Being well lather'd, from a dish or tub, 
 
 Hodge now began, with grinning pain,, to grub — 20 
 Just like a hedger cutting furze : 
 
 'Twas a vile razor! — then the rest he try'd ; — 
 
 All were impostors. — 44 Ah !" Hodge sigh'd, 
 44 I wish'd my eighteen-pence within my purse." 
 
t THELWALL S SELECTIONS. 
 
 In vain, to chase his beard, and bring the graces, 25 
 
 He cut and dug and winc'd and stamp'd and swore ; 
 Brought blood, and danc'd,blasphem'd, and made wry faces, 
 
 And curs'd each razor's body o'er and o'er. 
 
 His muzzle, form'd of opposition stuff, 
 
 Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff; 30 
 
 So kept it — laughing at the steel and suds. 
 
 Hodge, in a passion, stretch'd his angry jaws, 
 Vowing the direst vengeance, with clench'd claws, 
 On the vile cheat that sold the goods. 
 
 "Razors! a vile, confounded dog! — 35 
 
 " Not fit to scrape a hog !" 
 
 Hodge sought the fellow — found him — and begun — 
 " P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue ! to you 'tis fun 
 
 " That people flay themselves out of their lives. 
 
 44 You rascal ! for an hour have I been grubbing, 40 
 44 Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing 
 
 44 With razors just like oyster-knives. 
 44 Sirrah ! I tell you, you're a knave 
 44 To cry up razors that can't shave.'''' 
 
 44 Friend," quoth the razor-man, 44 I'm not a knave. 45 
 44 As for the razors you have bought, — 
 44 Upon my soul, I never thought 
 44 That they would shave." 
 
 4 Not think they'd shave?' quoth Hodge, with wond'ring eyes 
 And voice not much unlike an Indian yell, 50 
 
 4 What were they made for then, you dog?' he cries. 
 44 Made !" quoth the fellow, with a smile — " to fell " 53 
 
THELWALLS SELECTIONS. 
 
 MARTIAL ELOQUENCE. 
 
 HENRTr. before HARFLEUR. 
 
 SHAKESPERE. 
 
 Of the talent of Shakesperefor Oratorical Composition, the 
 Lecturer has delivered his opinion in other parts of the 
 Selections ; and specimens will be found, in their proper 
 places, of the application of this talent to Forensic, and to 
 Popular Elocution. The following is a noble and ani- 
 • mated example of Military Eloquence : It is, there/ore, 
 here introduced, as a proper accompaniment to the "Ora- 
 tion on the tendency of Elocution to kindle Martial En- 
 thusiasm" 
 
 The style of delivery appropriate to compositions of this 
 description, is best characterised by strength, fervour, 
 and emphatic energy. Some parts of the present Speech 
 require a degree of impetuous rapidity : which, under 
 proper regulation of the organs, will by no means interfere 
 with distinctness of enunciation. Other passages require 
 a more deliberate decision: but, as the principal object of 
 the whole is to inspire impetuous enthusiasm, nothing can 
 be more out of place than the measured and pedantic 
 drawl — too frequently considered as the standard excel- 
 lence of public recitation. 
 
 Once more unto the breach, dear friends! once more;— 
 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead. 
 
 In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man 
 
 As modest stillness and humility; 
 
 But, when the blast of war blows in our ears, c 
 
 Then imitate the action of the tyger ; 
 
2 THELWALLS SELECTIONS. 
 
 Stiffen the sinews! — summon up the blood ! — 
 
 Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage : 
 
 Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 
 
 Let it pry thro' the portage of the head, 10 
 
 Like the brass cannon; — let the brow o'erwhelrn it, 
 
 As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
 
 O'er-hang and j titty his confounded base, 
 
 Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
 
 Now set' the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide; 15 
 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 To his full height !— On, on, you noble English I 
 Whose blood is set from fathers of war-proof ; — ■ 
 Fathers — that, like so many Alexanders, 
 Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 20 
 
 And sbeath'd their swords for lack of argument. 
 Dishonour not your mothers. Now attest 
 That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you ! 
 Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 
 And teach them how to war ! 25 
 
 And you, good yeomen ! 
 Whose limbs were made in England, shew us here 
 The mettle of your pasture. Let us swear 
 That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt not; — 
 For there is none of you so mean and base, 30 
 
 That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 
 I see you stand, like greyhounds in the slips, 
 Straining upon the start. 
 
 The game's afoot. 
 Follow your spirit ; and, upon this charge, 
 Cry — God for Harry ! England ! and saint George ! 35 
 
THELWALLS SELECTIONS. 
 
 A CONSULTATION OF PHYSICIANS. 
 
 (From the New Bath Guide.) 
 
 Dear mother, my time has been wretchedly spent, 
 
 With a gripe or a hick-up wherever I went ; 
 
 My stomach all swell'd, till I thought it would burst ; 
 
 Sure never poor mortal with wind was so curst! 
 
 If ever I ate a good supper at night, 5 
 
 I dream'd of the devil, and wak'd in a fright : 
 
 And so, as I grew ev'ry day worse and worse, 
 
 The doctor advis'd me to send for a nurse, 
 
 And the nurse was so willing my health to restore, 
 
 She begg'd me to send for a few doctor's more; iq 
 
 For — when any difficult work's to be done, 
 
 Many heads can dispatch it much sooner than one: 
 
 And I find there are doctors enough at this place, 
 
 If you want to consult in a dangerous case. 
 
 So they all met together, and thus began talking : 1 5 
 
 *' Good doctor, I'm your's — 'Tis a fine day for walking. 
 
 " Sad news in the papers ! — God knows who's to blame! 
 
 " The Colonies seem to be all in a flame : — 
 
 " This Stamp Act, no doubt, might be good for the Crown, 
 
 " But I fear 'tis a pill that will never go down-" 20 
 
 " What can Portugal mean ? — Is she going to stir up 
 " Convulsions and heats in the bowels of Europe? 
 " 'Twill be fatal if England relapses again, 
 " From the ill blood and humours of Bourbon and Spain" 
 
2 THELWALL S SELECTIONS. 
 
 Says I, My good doctors, I can't understand 25 
 
 e Why the deuce you take so many patients in hand. 
 ' You've a great deal of practice, as far as I find ; 
 6 But, since ye're come hither, do pray be so kind 
 4 To write me down something that's good for the wind. 
 6 No doubt ye are all of ye great politicians ; 30 
 
 c But, at present, my bowels have need of phyficians. 
 ' Consider my case in the light it deserves, 
 ' And pity the state of my stomach and nerves.' — 
 
 But a tight little doctor began a dispute 
 About Administrations, Newcastle and Bute ; 35 
 
 Talk'd much of osconnmy, much of profuseness. — 
 Says another — " This case, which at first was a looseness, 
 " Is become a Tenefmuy, and all we can do 
 " Is to give him a gentle carthartic or two. 
 " First get off the phlegm that adheres to the Plicae^ 40 
 " Then throw in a med'eine that's pretty and spicy: — 
 " A peppermint draught, — or a — Come, let's be gone, 
 " We've another bad case to consider at One." 
 So thus they brush'd off, each his cane at his nose, 
 When Jenny came in, who had heard all their prose: 45 
 " I'll teach them," says she, " at their next consultation, 
 " To come and lake fees for the good of the nation." 
 I could not conceive what a devil she meant, 
 But she seiz'd all the stuff that the doctor had sent, 
 And out of the window sht flung it down souce, 40 
 
 As the first politician went out of the house. 
 Decoctions and syrups around him all flew, 
 The pill, bolus, julep, and apozem too; 
 His wig had the luck a carthartic to meet, 
 And squash went the gallipot under his feet. 45 
 
THELWALL S SELECTIONS. 3 
 
 She said, 'twas a shame I should swallow such stuff, 
 When my bowels were weak, and the physic so rough; 
 Declar'd she was shock'd — that so many should come 
 To be doctor'd to death such a distance from home. 
 At a place where they tell you — that water alone 50 
 
 Can cure all distempers that ever were known. 
 But, what is the pleasantest part of the story, 
 She has ordered for dinner a piper and dory; 
 For to-day Captain Cormorant's coming to dine : 55 
 
 That worthy acquaintance of Jenny's and mine. 
 
 'Tis a shame to the army that men of such spirit 
 Should never obtain the reward of their merit; 
 For the Captain's as gallant a man, I'll be sworn, 
 And as honest a fellow as ever was born. 
 After so many hardships and dangers incurr'd, 60 
 
 He himself thinks he ought to be better preferr'd. 
 And Roger, or — whatishis Name? Nicodemus, 
 Appears full as kind, and as much to esteem us. 
 Our Prudence declares he's an excellent preacher, 
 And by night and by day is so good as to teach her; • 65 
 His doctrine, so sound, with such spirit he gives, 
 She ne'er can forget it as long as she lives. 
 I told you before that he's often so kind 
 To go out a riding with Prudence behind ; 
 So he frequently dines here without any pressing; jo 
 
 And now to the fish he is giving his blessing. 
 And, as this is the case, — tho' I've taken a griper, 
 I'll venture to peck at the dory and piper. 
 
 And now, my dear mother, I'm quite at a stand, 
 So I rest your most dutiful son to command. 75 
 
THELWALL S SELECTIONS. 
 
 THE WASHING-DAY. 
 
 MRS. BARBAULD. 
 
 The Muses are turn*d gossips; they have lost 
 The buskin'd step, and clear high-sounding phrase- 
 Language of Gods ! — Come then, domestic Muse, 
 In slip-shod measure, loosely prattling on 
 Of farm or orchard, pleasant curds and cream, 5 
 
 Or drowning flies, or shoe lost in the mire 
 By little whimpering boy with rueful face;— 
 Come, Muse, and sing the dreaded Washing-day. 
 
 Ye, who beneath the yoke of wedlock bend 
 With bow'd-down soul, full well ye ken the day id 
 
 Which week, smooth sliding after week, brings on 
 Too-soon; for to that day nor peace belongs 
 Nor comfort. Ere the first gray streak of dawn, 
 The red-arm'd Washers come and chase repose. 
 Nor pleasant smile, nor quaint device of mirth 15 
 
 E'er visited that day; the very cat, 
 — From the wet kitchen scar'd, and reeking hearth, 
 Visits the parlour, an unwonted guest. 
 The silent breakfast meal is soon dispatch'd, 
 Uninterrupted, save by anxious looks 20 
 
 Cast at the .lowering sky, — if sky should lower. 
 From that last evil, O preserve us Heavns! 
 For should the skies pour down, adieu to all 
 Remains of quiet; then expect to hear 
 
2 THELWALL S SELECTIONS. 
 
 Of sad disasters, dirt and gravel stains 25 
 
 Hard to efface, and loaded lines at once 
 Snapp'd short, and linen by dog-horse thrown down, 
 And all the petty miseries of life. 
 
 Saints have been calm while stretch'd upon the rack; 
 And Montezuma smil'd on burning coals; 30 
 
 But never yet. did housewife notable 
 Greet with a smile a rainy Washing-day. 
 
 But grant the welkin fair, require not thou, 
 Who cairst thyself, perchance, the master there, 
 Or study swept, or nicely dusted coat, 35 
 
 Or usual tendance; ask not, indiscreet, 
 Thy stockings mended, tho' the yawning rents 
 Gape wide as Erebus; nor hope to find 
 Some snug recess impervious: should'st thou try 
 The custom'd garden-walks, thine eye shall rue 40 
 
 The budding fragrance of thy tender shrubs, 
 Myrtle or rose, all crush'd beneath the weight 
 Of coarse check apron, with impatient hand 
 TwitcrTd off when show'rs impend ; or crossing lines 
 Shall mar thy musings, as the wet cold sheet 45 
 
 Flaps in thy face abrupt.—- 
 
 Woe to the friend 
 Whose evil stars have urg'd him forth to claim, 
 On such a day, the hospitable rites. 
 Looks, blank at best, and stinted courtesy, 
 Shall he receive: vainly he feeds his hopes 50 
 
 With dinner of roast chicken, savoury pie 
 Or tart or pudding;— pudding he, nor tart 
 That day shall eat; nor, tho' the huiband try, 
 
Til EI/WALL S SELECTIONS. 3 
 
 (Mending what can't be help'd,) to kindle mirth 
 
 From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow re 
 
 Clear up propitious; the unlucky guest 
 
 In silence dines, and early slinks away. 
 
 I well remember, when a child, the awe 
 This day struck into me; for then the maids, 
 I fcarce knew why, look'd crofs, and drove me from them ; 60 
 Nor soft caress could I obtain, nor hope 
 Usual indulgences;— jelly or creams, 
 Relique of costly suppers, and set by 
 For me their petted one; or butter'd toast, 
 When butter was forbid; or thrilling tale — 6z 
 
 Of ghost, or witch, or murder;— so I went 
 And shelter'd me beside the parlour fire. 
 There my dear Grandmother, " eldest of forms,''' 
 Tended the little ones, and watch'd from harm, 
 Anxiously fond ! — tho' oft her spectacles 70 
 
 With elfin cunning hid, and oft the pins 
 Drawn from her ravell'd stocking, might have sour'd 
 One less indulgent. 
 
 o 
 
 At intervals my Mother's voice was heard, 
 
 Urging dispatch : briskly the work went on; jz 
 
 All hands employ'd to wash, to rinse, to wring, 
 
 To fold and starch and clap and iron and plait. 
 
 Then w r ould I sit me down, and ponder much 
 
 Why washings were. 
 
 Sometimes, through hollow bowl 
 Of pipe, amus'd, we blew, and sent aloft 80 
 
 The floating bubbles, — little dreaming then 
 To see, Mongolfier, thy silkin ball 
 

 
 4 THELWALLS SELECTIONS. 
 
 £/# 1 
 
 Ride buoyant through the clouds. So near approach 
 The sports of children and the toils of men ! 
 
 Earth, air and sky and ocean, have their bubbles; 
 And verse is one of them : this most of all. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 021 100 4952