:

ject to caprice!-chiefly governed by passion!—of course, Sir, I speak of what are generally called, the people the crowd, the mass of the community. But you ask me for a proof of the bad effects that resulted to the Roman people, from the liberty they possessed, of legislating directly for themselves. Look, Sir, to the proceedings of the forum !-What they did, they undid; what they erected, they threw down they enacted laws, and they repealed them; they elected patriots, and they betrayed them; they humbled tyrants, and they exalted them! You will find, that the great converted the undue power, which the people possessed, into the means of subjugating the people. If they feared a popular leader, it was only necessary to spread by their emissaries a suspicion of his integrity, or set the engine of corruption to work, upon that frailest of all fortifications, popular stability and thus, Sir, they carried their point, humbled their honest adversaries, and laughed in the face of the wisest and most salutary laws.

Mr. Chairman, I think that the times in which Cæsar lived, called for, and sanctioned, his usurpation. I think his object was, to extinguish the jealousies of party; to put a stop to the miseries that resulted from them; and to unite his countrymen. I think the divided state of the Roman people exposed them to the danger of a foreign yoke; from which they could be preserved, only by receiving a domestic one. I think that Cæsar was a great man; and I conclude my trial of your patience, with the reply made to Brutus by Statilius, who had once determined to die in Utica with Cato; and by Favonius, an esteemed philosopher of those times. Those men

were sounded by Brutus, after he had entered into the conspiracy for murdering Cæsar. The former said, he would rather patiently suffer the oppressions of an arbitrary master, than the cruelties and disorders which generally attend civil dissensions." The latter declared, that, in his opinion, 66 a civil war was worse than the most unjust tyranny."

JAMES GIBSON Mr. Chairman, As the

opener of

1

this debate, I am entitled to reply; but it is a privilege by which I shall not profit. I leave our cause to the fate it merits. But, allow me to remark, that, how much soever we may disagree in our opinion of Cæsar's character, there is a subject upon which we cannot have the slightest difference of sentiment; namely, that your patience, indulgence, and impartiality, have been great, and claim-our gratitude.

EXTRACTS IN RHYME.

Apostrophe to Love.

O happy love! where love like this is found;
O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare !
I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
And sage experience bids me this declare-
"If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
One cordial in this melancholy vale,

'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,

In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale."

Is there, in human form, that bears a heart-
A wretch a villain ! lost to love and truth! ·
That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,

Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth! Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exiled?

Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,

Points to the parents fondling o'er their child, Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction

wild?

Burns.

The Soldier's Dream.

OUR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lower'd,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die-
When, reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain,
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track:
'Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.
I flew to the pleasant fields, travers'd so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleeting aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledg'd we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little one's kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart

'Stay, stay with us-rest, thou art weary and worn !"
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay-
But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear-melted away!
Campbell,

On True Dignity.

Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, And woo the weary to profound repose! Can passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, And whisper comfort to the man of woes? Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes, And Contemplation soar on seraph wings. O Solitude, the man who thee foregoes, When lucre lures him, or ambition stings, Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs.

Vain man, is grandeur given to gay attire? Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid :To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire? It is thy weakness that requires their aid :To palaces, with gold and gems inlay'd? They fear the thief and tremble in the storm :To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade ? Behold the victor vanquish'd by the worm! Behold what deeds of woe the locust can perform.

True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind
Virtue has rais'd above the things below,
Who, every hope and fear to Heaven resign'd,
Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest blow!
This strain from 'midst the rocks was heard to flow
In solemn sounds. Now beam'd the evening star;
And from embattled clouds emerging slow
Cynthia came riding on her silver car;

And hoary mountain-cliffs shone faintly from afar.

Glenara.

Beattie.

Oh! heard you yon pibroch sound sad in the gale,
Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail?
'Tis the Chief of Glenara laments for his dear;
And her sire and her people are call'd to her bier.
Glenara came first, with the mourners and shroud;
Her kinsmen they follow'd, but mourn'd not aloud;
Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around;
They march'd all in silence-they look'd to the ground.
In silence they reach'd over mountain and moor,
To a heath, where the oak tree grew lonely and hoar,
Now here let us place the grey-stone of her cairn-
"Why speak ye no word ?" said Glenara the stern.
"And tell me, I charge you, ye clan of my spouse,
Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your brows?"
So spake the rude chieftain : no answer is made,
But each mantle unfolding, a dagger display'd.
"I dream'd of my lady, I dream'd of her shroud,"
Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud;
"And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem;
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!"
Oh! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain I ween;
When the shroud was unclos'd, and no body was seen,
Then a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn-
'Twas the youth that had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn-
"I dream'd of my lady, I dream'd of her grief,
I dream'd that her lord was a barbarous chief;
On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem:
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!"