T is not because I hold Popery to be innocent that I want the removal of disabilities; but because I hold that, if these were taken out of the way, she would be tenfold more assailable. It is not because I am indifferent to the good of Protestantism that I want to displace these artificial crutches from under her; but because I want that, freed from every symptom of decripitude and decay, she should stand forth in her own native strength, and make manifest to all men how firm a support she has on the goodness of her cause, and on the basis of her orderly and well-laid arguments. It is because I count so much-and will any Protestant say I count too much? on her Bible and her evidences, and the blessing of God upon her churches, and the force of her resistless appeals to the conscience and the understandings of men; it is because of her strength and sufficiency in these that I would disclaim the aids of the statute-book, and own no dependence or obligation whatever on a system of intolerance. These were enough for her in the days of her suffering, and should be more than enough for her in the days of her comparative safety. It is not by our

fears and our false alarms that we do honour to Protestantism. A far more befitting honour to the great cause is the homage of our confidence; for what Sheridan said of the liberty of the press, admits of most emphatic application to this religion of truth and liberty. "Give,” says that great orator, "give to ministers a corrupt House of Commons; give them a pliant and servile House of Lords; give them the keys of the Treasury and the patronage of the Crown; and give me the liberty of the press, and with this mighty engine I will overthrow the fabric of corruption, and establish upon its ruins the rights and privileges of the people." In like manner, give the Catholics of Ireland their emancipation; give them a seat in the Parliament of their country; give them a free and equal participation in the politics of the realm; give them a place at the right ear of Majesty, and a voice in his counsels; and give me the circulation of the Bible, and with this mighty engine I will overthrow the tyranny of antichrist, and establish the fair and original form of Christianity on its ruins.

ΟΝ

(Spenser)

NE day, nigh weary of the irksome way,
From her unhasty beast she did alight;
And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay
In secret shadow, from all men's sight;
From her fair head her fillet she undight,
And laid her stole aside her angel's face,
As the great eye of Heaven, shinèd bright,
And made a sunshine in a shady place;

Did ever mortal eye behold such heavenly grace?

It fortunèd, out of the thickest wood

A ramping lion rushed suddenly, Hunting full greedy after salvage blood: Soon as the royal virgin he did spy,

With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,

To have at once devour'd the tender corpse :
But to the prey, when as he drew more nigh,
His bloody rage assuagèd with remorse,
And, with the sight amazed, forgot his furious
force.

Instead thereof he kiss'd her weary feet,

And lick'd her lily hands with fawning tongue, As he her wrongèd innocence did weet.

O how can beauty master the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!

Whose yielded pride and proud submission,
Still dreading death, when she had markèd long,
Her heart 'gan melt in great compassion,
And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection.

"The lion, lord of every beast in field,"

Quoth she, "his princely puissance doth abate,
And mighty Proud to humble Weak doth yield,
Forgetful of the hungry rage, which late
Him prick'd, in pity of my sad estate :-
But he, my lion, and my noble lord,

How does he find in cruel heart to hate

Her, that him loved, and ever most adored

As the god of my life? why hath he me abhorr'd?"

Redounding tears did choke th' end of her plaint,
Which softly echo'd from the neighbour wood;

And, sad to see her sorrowful constraint,

The kingly beast upon her gazing stood; With pity calm'd, down fell his angry mood.

At last, in close heart shutting up her pain,
Arose the virgin born of heavenly brood,
And to her snowy palfry got again,

To seek her strayèd champion if she might attain.

The lion would not leave her desolate,

But with her went along as a strong guard Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate

Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard: Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward; And when she waked, he waited diligent, With humble service to her will prepared: From her fair eyes he took commandément, And ever by her looks conceived her intent.