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an eminence, and glory covered him. From that eminence he has fallen, suddenly, forever fallen. His intercourse with the living world is now ended; and those who would hereafter find him, must seek him in the grave. 5 There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which just now was the seat of friendship; there, dim and sightless, is the eye whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with intelligence; and there, closed forever, are those lips on whose persuasive accents we have so often and so lately hung 10 with transport.
From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there proceeds, methinks, a light, in which it is clearly seen that those gaudy objects which men pursue are only phantoms. In this light how dimly shines the splendor of victory! 15 how humble appears the majesty of grandeur! The bubble, which seemed to have so much solidity, has burst; and we again see that all below the sun is vanity.
True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced, the sad and solemn procession has moved, the badge of mourning 20 has already been decreed, and presently the sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpetuate the name of Hamilton, and rehearse to the passing traveller his virtues (just tributes of respect, and, to the living, useful); but to him, mouldering in his narrow and humble habita25 tion, what are they? How vain! how unavailing!
Approach, and behold, while I lift from his sepulchre its covering! Ye admirers of his greatness! ye emulous of his talents and his fame! approach and behold him now! How pale! how silent! No martial bands admire 30 the adroitness of his movements; no fascinating throng weep and melt and tremble at his eloquence! Amazing change! a shroud! a coffin! a narrow, subterraneous cabin! this is all that now remains of Hamilton! And is this all that remains of Hamilton? During a life so 35 transitory, what lasting monument, then, can our fondest hopes erect!
My brethren, we stand on the borders of an awful gulf, which is swallowing up all things human. And is there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing stable, nothing abiding, nothing immortal, on which poor, frail, dying man 5 can fasten? Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you have been accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. He will tell you, did I say? He has already told you, from his death-bed; and his illumined spirit still whispers from the heavens, with well known eloquence, O the solemn admonition: "Mortals hastening to the tomb, and once the companions of my pilgrimage, take warning and avoid my errors; cultivate the virtues I have recommended; choose the Saviour I have chosen; live disinterestedly; live for immortality; and would you rescue anything from final dissolution, lay it up in God."
CIX. -THE INDIANS.
1 YET while, by life's endearments crowned,
2 We call them savage. O, be just!
A voice comes forth, - 't is from the dust,
Think ye he loved not? Who stood by,
The savage had a heart!
He heard the thunders roll,
3 I venerate the Pilgrim's cause,
Yet for the red man dare to plead
We seek our God in prayer;
He saw the cloud, ordained to grow
Strange feet were trampling on his fathers' bones;
And listen to his children's dying groans.
Alas for them! - their day is o'er,
Their children, look! by power oppressed,
4 O, doubly lost! Oblivion's shadows close
There sage and bard have shed a light
Even we, who then were nothing, kneel
In homage there, and join earth's general peal.
Shall link him to a future age,
5 Cold, with the beast he slew he sleeps; O'er him no filial spirit weeps;
No crowds throng round, no anthem notes ascend,
To bless his coming and embalm his end;
Even that he lived, is for his conqueror's tongue;
[Extract from a speech delivered in the House of Representatives by HON. C. NAYLOR, Member of Congress from Pennsylvania.]
THE gentleman, sir, has misconceived the spirit and tendency of northern institutions. He is ignorant of northern character. He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach insurrection to the northern laborers! 5 Who are the northern laborers? The history of your country is their history. The renown of your country is their renown. The brightness of their doings is emblazoned on its every page. Blot from your annals the words and the doings of northern laborers, and the history of 10 your country presents but a universal blank.
Sir, who was he that disarmed the Thunderer; wrested from his grasp the bolts of Jove; calmed the troubled ocean; became the central sun of the philosophical system of his age, shedding his brightness and effulgence on the 15 whole civilized world; whom the great and mighty of the earth delighted to honor; who participated in the achievement of your independence, prominently assisted in moulding your free institutions, and the beneficial effects of whose wisdom will be felt to the last moment of "recorded 20 time?" Who, sir, I ask, was he? A northern laborer, a Yankee tallow-chandler's son, a printer's runaway boy!