Pride, pomp, and circumstances of glorious war!
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!
"Othello."

SHAKESPEARE.

5. Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, falling in the great struggle for Independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every State from New England to Georgia; and there they will lie forever. And, Sir, where American Liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it, if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it, if folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed in separating it from that Union by which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked; it will stretch forth its arm with whatever of vigor it may still retain over the friends who gather round it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin. "Massachusetts and South Carolina."

WEBSTER.

6. It took Rome three hundred years to die; and our death, if we perish, will be as much more terrific as our intelligence and free institutions have given to us more bone and sinew and vitality. May God hide me from the day when the dying agonies of my country shall begin! O thou beloved land, bound together by the ties of brotherhood, and common interest, and perils, live forever-one and undivided!

LYMAN BEECHER.

4

7. Thy right hand, O Lord, is become glorious in power; thy right hand, O Lord, hath dashed in pieces the enemy, and in the greatness of thine excellency thou hast overthrown them that rose up against thee; thou sendest forth thy wrath which consumed them as stubble. And with the blast of thy nostrils the waters were gathered together; the floods stood upright as an heap, and the depths were congealed in the heart of the sea.

"Exodus 15; 6, 7,

8."

THE BIBLE.

8. The nation rises up at every stage of his coming; cities and states are his pallbearers, and the cannon beats the hours in solemn progression; dead, dead, dead, he yet speaketh. Is Washington dead? Is Hampden dead? Is David dead? Is any man that was ever fit to live dead? Disenthralled from flesh, and risen in the unobstructed sphere where passion never comes, he begins his illimitable work..

bells and bands Wail and weep

Your sorrows, O people, are his peace; your and muffled drums sound triumph in his ear. here! Pass on! Ye winds that move over the mighty places of the West, chant his requiem! Ye people, behold a martyr whose blood, as so many articulate words, pleads for fidelity, for law, for liberty!

"On the Death of Abraham Lincoln.”

9. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean-roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control
Stops with the shore;-upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,

BEECHER.

When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,
And monarchs tremble in their capitals;
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take

Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war,—

These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee-
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage,-what are they?
Thy waters wasted them when they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou,

Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play-
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow-
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,
Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole; or in the torrid clime

Dark heaving;-boundless, endless, and sublime—
The image of Eternity-the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone

Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. "Childe Harold."

BYRON.

10. Romans, countrymen and lovers! hear me for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer,-Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him: but, as he was ambitious,

I slew him. There are tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honor for his valor; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman ? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

"Julius Cæsar."

SHAKESPEARE.

11. Father of Earth and Heaven! I call thy name!
Round me the smoke and shout of battle roll;

My eyes are dazzled with the rustling flame;
Father, sustain an untried soldier's soul!
Or life, or death, whatever be the goal
That crowns or closes round the struggling hour,
Thou knowest, if ever from my spirit stole

One deeper prayer, 'twas that no cloud might lower
On my young fame!-O hear! God of eternal power.

Now for the fight-now for the cannon peal—

Forward-through blood and toil and cloud and fire! Glorious the shout, the shock, the crash of steel, The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire; They shake,-like broken waves their squares retire,— On them, hussars!-Now give them rein and heel; Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire:Earth cries for blood,—in thunder on them wheel! This hour to Europe's fate shall set the triumph-seal! "Battle Hymn." KARL THEODOR KÖRNER.

ASPIRATED

1. Lady Macbeth. Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed
Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready;
He could not miss them. Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I had done't.

(Enter Macbeth)

My husband!

Macbeth. I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? Lady Macbeth. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak?

Macbeth. This is a sorry sight. (Looking on his hands.)
Lady Macbeth. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

Macbeth. There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried "Murder!"

That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them:
But they did say their prayers, and address'd them
Again to sleep.

"Macbeth."

SHAKESPEARE.

2. Steady, boys, steady!

Keep your arms ready.

God only knows whom we may meet here.
Don't let me be taken-

I'd rather awaken

To-morrow in-no matter where,—

Than lie in that foul prison hole over there.