And so, fellow-gladiators, must you, and so must I, die like dogs. "O Rome! Rome! thou has been a tender nurse to me! Ay, thou hast given, to that poor, gentle, timid shepherd lad, who never knew a harsher tone than a flute-note, musclesof iron and a heart of flint: taught him to drive the sword through plaited mail and links of rugged brass, and warm it in the marrow of his foe! -to gaze into the glaring eye-balls of the fierce Numidian lion, even as a boy upon a laughing girl! And he shall pay thee back, till the yellow Tiber is red as frothing wine, and in its deepest ooze thy life-blood lies curdled! "Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are! The strength of brass is in your toughened sinews; but tomorrow some Roman Adonis, breathing sweet perfume from his curly locks, shall with his lily fingers pat your red brawn, and bet his sesterces upon your blood! Hark! hear ye yon lion roaring in his den? 'Tis three days since he tasted flesh; but to-morrow he shall break his fast upon yours,-and a dainty meal for him ye will be! "If ye are brutes, then stand here like fat oxen, waiting for the butcher's knife: if ye are men,—follow me! strike down yon guard, gain the mountain passes, and there do bloody work, as did your sires at Old Thermopyla! Is Sparta dead? Is the old Grecian spirit frozen in your veins, that you do crouch and cower like a belabored hound beneath his master's lash? O comrades! warriors! Thracians!-if we must fight, let us fight for ourselves; if we must slaughter, let us slaughter our oppressors; if we must die, let us die under the open sky, by the bright waters, in noble, honorable battle!" THE CHESTNUT HORSE. An Eaton stripling, training for the law, "Well, Tom, the road; what saw you worth discerning? How's all at College, Tom?-what is 't you're learning?" "Learning-O, logic, logic!-not the shallow rules Is to say black 's not black."— "Come, let's try it!" "Well, sir; an eel pie is a pie of fish." "Agreed." For every John pie must be a pie-John."-(pigeon.) To show how much I logic love in course, I'll make thee master of a chestnut horse." "A horse!" quoth Tom, "blood, pedigree, and paces! O, what a dash I'll cut at Epsom races!" Tom dreamt all night of boots and leather breeches, But no such animal the meadows cropt, Till under a large tree Sir Peter stopt, There, Tom, take that."—" Well, sir, and what beside ?" "Why, since you're booted, saddle it and ride." THE NATURE OF TRUE ELOQUENCE. When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech further than it is connected with high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness, are the qualities which produce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be marshaled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire after it: they cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the out-breaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and their country, hang on the decision of the hour. Then, words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then, patriotism is eloquent; then, self-devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, out-running the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward, to his object—this, this is eloquence; or, rather it is something greater and higher than all eloquence-it is action, noble, sublime, godlike action. WARREN'S ADDRESS. (REV. JOHN PIERPONT.) Stand! the ground's your own, my braves- Will ye look for greener graves Hope ye mercy still? What's the mercy despots feel? ? Fear ye foes who kill for hire? Who have done it! From the vale Let their welcome be! In the God of battles trust! As where heaven its dews shall shed BELSHAZZAR. (B. W. PROCTER.) Belshazzar is king! Belshazzar is lord! And a thousand dark nobles all bend at his board; Fruits glisten, flowers blossom, meats steam, and a flood Of the wine that man loveth runs redder than blood; Bring forth," cries the monarch, "the vessels of gold Which my father tore down from the temples of old; Bring forth, and we'll drink, while the trumpets are blown, To the gods of bright silver, of gold, and of stone; Now what cometh-look, look!-without menace, or call? Who writes with the lightning's bright hand on the wall? |