love, and for whom I am proud to perish. As men, we must appear, on the great day, at one common tribunal; and it will then remain for the Searcher of all hearts to show a collective universe who was engaged in the most virtuous actions, or actuated by the purest motives-my country's oppressors, or myself.

I am charged with being an emissary of France. An emissary of France! And for what end? It is alleged that I wished to sell the independence of my country! And for what end? Was this the object of my ambition! And is this the mode by which a tribunal of justice reconciles contradictions? No; I am no emissary. My ambition was to hold a place among the deliverers of my country—not in power, not in profit, but in the glory of the achievement. Sell my country's independence to France! and for what? A change of masters? No; but for ambition.

Oh, my country! had it been personal ambition that influenced me-had it been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my education and fortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed myself amongst the proudest of your oppressors? My country was my idol. To it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment; and for it I now offer up my life. No, my lord, I acted as an Irishman, determined on delivering my country from the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting tyranny, and from the more galling yoke of a domestic faction, its joint partner and perpetrator in parricide, whose rewards are the ignominy of existing with an exterior of splendor, and a consciousness of depravity.

It was the wish of my heart to extricate my country from this doubly riveted despotism. I wished to place her independence beyond the reach of any power on earth. I wished to exalt her to that proud station of the world which Providence has destined her to fill.

I have been charged with so great importance, in the efforts to emancipate my country, as to be considered the keystone of the combination of Irishmen, or, as your lordship expressed it, "the life and blood of the conspiracy." You do me honor overmuch -you have given to the subaltern all the credit of a superior. There are men engaged in this conspiracy who are not only superior to me, but even to your own conceptions of yourself, my lord-men before the splendor of whose genius and virtues I should bow with respectful deference, and who would think themselves dishonored to be called your friends who would not dis

grace themselves by shaking your blood-stained hand- [Here he was interrupted by the judge.]

What, my lord, shall you tell me on the passage to that scaffold which that tyranny, of which you are only the intermediary executioner, has erected for my murder, that I am accountable for all the blood that has been, and will be, shed in this struggle of the oppressed against the oppressor shall you tell me this, and must I be so very a slave as not to repel it?—I, who fear not to approach the omnipotent Judge, to answer for the conduct of my whole life-am I to be appalled and falsified by a mere remnant of mortality here? — by you, too, who, if it were possible to collect all the innocent blood that you have shed, in your unhallowed ministry, in one great reservoir, your lordship might swim in it?[Here the judge again interfered.]

Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with dishonor: let no man attaint my memory, by believing that I could engage in any cause but that of my country's liberty and independence; or that I could become the pliant minion of power in the oppression or the miseries of my countrymen. The proclamation of the provisional government speaks my views; from which no inference can be tortured to countenance barbarity or debasement at home, or subjection, or humiliation, or treachery from abroad. I would not have submitted to a foreign invader, for the same reason that I would resist the domestic oppressor. In the dignity of freedom, I would have fought upon the threshold of my country, and its enemy should enter only by passing over my lifeless corpse. And am I, who lived but for my country, who have subjected myself to the dangers of the jealous and watchful oppressor, and now to the bondage of the grave, only to give my countrymen their rights, and my country her independence, to be loaded with calumny, and not suffered to resent and repel it? No; God forbid!

My lords, you seem impatient for the sacrifice. The blood for which you thirst is not congealed by the artificial terrors which surround your victim: it circulates warmly and unruffled through the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you are bent to destroy for purposes so grievous that they cry to Heaven.

Be yet patient. I have but a few words more to say. I am going to my cold and silent grave; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished;

my race is run; the grave opens to receive me; and I sink into its bosom. I have but one request to ask at my departure from this world: it is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph; for, as no man who knows my motives, dares now vindicate them, let not prejudice nor ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose in obscurity, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done.

In this land; or bound
Down, like the whining hound
Bound with red stripes of pain
In our old chains again!"

Oh! what a shout there went
From the black regiment!

"Charge!" Trump and drum awoke, Onward the bondmen broke:

Bayonet and sabre-stroke

Vainly opposed their rush.

Through the wild battle's crush,
With but one thought aflush,
Driving their lords like chaff,
In the guns' mouths they laugh;
Or at the slippery brands
Leaping with open hands,

Down they tear man and horse,
Down in their awful course;
Trampling with bloody heel
Over the crashing steel,
All their eyes forward bent,
Rushed the black regiment.

"Freedom!" their battle-cry,
"Freedom! or learn to die!"
Ah! and they meant the word,
Not as with us 't is heard,
Not a mere party shout:
They gave their spirits out;
Trusted the end to God,
And on the gory sod

Rolled in triumphant blood.

Glad to strike one free blow,

Whether for weal or woe;

Glad to breathe one free breath,
Though on the lips of death.
Praying alas! in vain!

That they might fall again,
So they could once more see
That burst to liberty!

This was what "freedom" lent
To the black regiment.

Hundreds on hundreds fell,
But they are resting well;
Scourges and shackles strong
Never shall do them wrong.
Oh, to the living few,
Soldiers, be just and true!
Hail them as comrades tried;
Fight with them side by side;
Never, in field or tent,

Scorn the black regiment.

THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA.

One poor

At the terrible fight of Buena Vista, Mexican women were seen hovering near the field of death, for the purpose of giving aid and succor to the wounded. woman was found surrounded by the mained and suffering of both armies, ministering to the wants of Americans as well as Mexicans with impartial tenderness.

SPE
PEAK and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away,
O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array,
Who is losing? who is winning? are they far, or come they near?
Look abroad and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we hear.

"Jesu, pity! how it thickens! now retreats and now advances! Right against the blazing cannon shiver Puebla's charging lances! Down they go, the brave young riders: horse and foot together

fall;

Like the ploughshare in its furrow, through them ploughs the

northern ball."

"Oh, my heart's love! oh, my dear one! lay thy poor head on

my knee;

Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Canst thou hear me,

canst thou see?

Oh, my husband, brave and gentle! Oh, my Bernal, look once

more

On the blessed Cross before thee!

Mercy! mercy! all is o'er!"