University of Virginia Library

Genius of British law, who lov'st the smile
Of freedom's open aspect; tho' deduc'd
From Norman ancestry—a warrior-brood
Stern-featur'd—Genius, whose parental eye
Kindles in triumph o'er thy studious dome
Fast by the banks of Thames, where many a youth
Still adds new treasure to his mental stores,
Foster'd by thee!—O hear, nor slight the muse
Who, erst, an humble visitant, aspir'd
To ope persuasion's portals, and unveil
Her living altar!—hear, and bid thy sons
Attend: for them I reassume the lyre.

If, then, my pupil, thou hast trac'd thy sphere
Peculiar, in my various verse; and view'd
The oration's first essential, as it suits
Thy favourite aims; still sedulous, revolve
That first essential—argument: its source
Explore; pursue it to its ends; and, last,
Its object with attentive care survey.

Thus, shall thine emulous instructor lead
Thy steps to scenes of contest; mark thy cause,
Thine audience, and opponent; and inspire
The quick adroitness that elicits truth.

Wide is the extent of reasoning; yet observe
Its legal limits. Tho' thine active mind
Dive into deepest argument, and draw
From its internal fount of reason, truths
That carry strong conviction; 'tis in vain
They flow, unless united with the stream
Sprung from that other source extrinsic judg'd—
Authority. Here fix thy studies; here
Approach the laws of Albion, and her acts
Of senatorial wisdom: Here behold
Thy circumscribing circle: Hence the strength
Of argument, whate'er its destin'd end,
Educe; and to the litigated point
Apply, not careless of forensic forms.

For, vainly think not, tho' the classic school
Of eloquence hath charm'd thy tranced hours,
That, there, the just—the appropriate model claims
Thine imitative labours. Unconstrain'd,
From equity's intrinsic source, (to all
Perspicuous), and the heart's decisions stamp'd
By Nature's seal, and man's primæval laws,
The immortal champions of the forum drew
Their more persuasive numbers. Short their code,
And simple; wedded to no toil austere;
Nor asking many a lustrum, to devote
The midnight lamp to musing. To combine
The quick varieties of thought; to snatch
From elocution all the heightening grace
Of diction; and amuse the million's eye
By each external impulse; this their boast,
This was their aim. No deep immuring pile
(The science of innumerous tomes) opprest
The mental strength elastic; nor perplex'd
By facts from mazy records, the free flow
Of speech, that never hesitating ran
Thro' easy vein. And while (the rare result
Of letter'd art) the precious volume gave
Its treasures to the few—perhaps no more
Accessible, and barr'd from vulgar gaze;
They bade retentive memory on their mind
Impress each image, in distinctive lines
That mock'd erasure. Hence the pleader, bold
In vigorous thought, and trusting to those powers
Which knew no ready refuge in the means
Of foreign aid, unlock'd with nature's key
The secret springs that agitate the soul!

But, not here only the civilian, proud
Of high untramel'd eloquence, gave scope
To daring declamation: his career
Brav'd every check, impetuous; whilst in groupes
Distinct thro' varied character or age,
Or feelings or opinion, the mixt tribe
Of numerous judges, by the changeful mien,
The assenting nod, the favouring murmur, looks
Applausive, and full many a sign yet dash'd
With frowns and not unanimous, betray'd
The judgment's feeble rule amidst a crowd
Of warring wills, and passion's lawless sway,
And fond caprice that fluctuates as it feels
Its own reactive impulse! Hence the fire
That wing'd each word; and all the enticing arts
Which Albion's philosophic taste condemns,
As rant or artifice. Her temperate eye
Turns from the flaming picture, where (perchance
In guilt's dark cause) amid the stoled tribe
Persuasion's swift-descending genius swells
The oration's period; rolls the indignant orb
Against the accusing witnesses; in rage
Adverts to fabricated injuries; asks
Forgiveness from the sympathetic soul,
In gestures that seem trembling at the touch
Of agony severe; and scattering round
The illusion of theatric forms, convokes
Haply some parent and his little race
In sorrow's weeds; 'till, dup'd into belief
Of all his fancy fabled, he o'erwhelms
Ev'n wary wisdom; and bids vanquish'd hosts
Sink in the mighty magic of the scene!

Far other task, young orator, be thine;
Strenuous, within the ramparts of the law,
To give thy talents the resistless force
Of legal science. For, here only, lies
The path, where, hastening with her civic wreath,
Fair oratory comes, to crown thy toil.

But not as thy compeers (who oft confine
Their labors to the secondary tome
Compil'd by modern industry) reject
The legends, whose illuminated page
Unveils the painted Briton; or the bird
Of Rome quick-pouncing on the scythed car;
Or treacherous HENGIST, by the pale moon, drench'd
In British blood, or the fire-tressed Dane.
From days of simpler aspect, such as these,
Deduce the ties of law, how multiplied
By vice and various luxury! Yet not long
Let prospects dim'd by fiction's mist, detain
Thy philosophic eye; tho' haply there
The cromlehs of the druid judge uprear'd
Their reverential piles beneath the gloom
Of cavern'd oaks, to strike Cornubia's sons
With chill dismay—tho', there, an OFFA tower'd
High in the lists of legislative fame!
Nor, ev'n amid the relics that record
An ALFRED's or an EDWARD's skill, protract
Thy curious search; content with transient gaze
To mark obscurer systems. No—be thine
To muse on each original, where law
Distinct appears. The feodal tenure trace—
Its rise—its dissolution: from the wreck
Still extant, many a scatter'd relic meets
The observing glance. The historic truth, or scene,
Or incident, with legal science link'd,
Delineate: hail the charter; hail the dawn
Of parliaments—tho' first thy transports see
(The boast of Saxons!) from beneath the weight
Of Normandy's oppressive throne arise
That antient jury—not misdeem'd the mound
Of freedom, stronger than the cliffs that guard
Britannia's cities from the wave! Behold
Thy Albion views it with the tremulous fears
Of fond parental vigilance; alarm'd
Ev'n at a momentary blast, that blows
Where the dark cloud convolves its lurid skirts,
Pavilioning the tyrant!—yet assur'd
Of sheltering safety, while, thro' all the lapse
Of ages, her distinguish'd sons to thwart
The monarch's threat'ning efforts have arisen,
With blushes kindled at the vestal flame
Of honor; with the liberal love of law;
Unblemish'd faith; the high-transmitted sense
Of equity; and all the glowing soul
That lives in truth and feeling! Such thy praise,
O ERSKINE, brightest of those sons!—adorn'd
With laurels that outvie the Grecian palm,
Victor in British eloquence! In vain
The sterner terrors of a MANSFIELD's eye
Frown'd on thy firmness! Tho' the patriarch judge
Sinking thro' venerable years, and sage
In legal wisdom, an attentive awe
Inspir'd; the rights of injur'd Britons claim'd
Thy deeper reverence! Thus, ingenuous youth,
Shall the clear insight penetrate the maze
Of complicated law; whether thy art
Elucidate the darker customs, sprung
From immemorial time, or on the acts
Of senates found its greatness. Yet the task
Claims resolution's firmest force.—How few
Can bid attention sedulously wake
To the pale lamp; while, round, the vacant mirth
Of dissipation roars; while pleasure's voice
Echoes the lulling music through the groves,
That, like some wizard's fabled garden, float
Effusing radiance on the skirts of night;
Or while a SIDDONS, in impassion'd tones
(As her soul rushes thro' her form) transports
And chills; or meretricious beauty rolls
The soft voluptuous eye! How many a youth
Whom all a parent's fondness nurs'd for fame—
How many a youth to late repentance pours
A waste of sighs!—EUGENIO's morn of life
Open'd, in golden prospect, on a mind
Unspotted; on the genuine sense of right;
And plain sincerity; a sparkling ray
From fancy; and pure taste from classic lore;
Enlighten'd sentiment; and no mean thirst
For praise; whilst ardent emulation points
His views not unaspiring, where the dome
Of science mingles with the distant heaven!
And, ah! what visions to a father's eye,
Hope-pencil'd, rise—when now the starting tear
Of filial duty trembles; as he leaves
For proud Augusta the rever'd repose
Of his paternal shade. “Go, my lov'd boy,
“Go to a world, where manners yet unmark'd
“Shall meet thine eye—where strong temptation spreads
“The dazzling charm—where many a specious lure
“May draw thy young simplicity from fame
“And virtue! Yet far other views my hope
“Hath given; and may a bounteous power confirm
“The voice that bids thee, still thyself, repel
“Whate'er may lead thee from the silent path
“Of thy appropriate labours, or relax
“The ties of duty: so may honors croud
“Around thee, riches bless thy toil, and worth
“Conspicuous in a sphere that shall command
“The reverence of mankind, present thy powers
“The shield to guard thy country!” From a sire
Thus eloquent in love—a mother's looks
Where fondness beam'd ineffable, he hastes
To fame's bright area. There, the approv'd pursuit
Show'd, regular awhile, the studious mind.
But, soon, his sprightly fancy overleap'd
The proper limits, fearful as she rov'd,
Nor vagrant long. 'Twas then that elegance,
Which only the poetic bosom feels,
Sported, with an amusive lustre gay;
Rendering the darkness of the abstruser law
More visible—a blank contrasted gloom.
What tho', in tremulous haste, he oft recall'd
Attention to its wonted task; how vain
Each effort, while his fond idea strove
To give imagination proper scope,
And rein it as he will'd; ere use had fix'd
His aims—his studies. Nor the reckless tribe
Amid the festal moment spar'd such strains
As slight the code voluminous, and paint
To passion, all the sweetly-thrilling glow
A Thais boasts. Still undebauch'd, he blames
The rare excess; and hails the chambers, mark'd
For his intense research. There silence lends
Deep meditation aid, as with hush'd wing
Brooding on the sequester'd spot she holds
Her little empire; or with noiseless step
Circling her dome, (whose airy windows front
Thy stream, salubrious Thames, and the green hills
Of open Surry)—chases wild uproar,
The din of wheels, the rabble's deaf'ning shout,
And the harsh confluence of promiscuous sounds;
Where each pent street swarms populous, thro' the shade
Of towering edifices—all involv'd
In murky smoke and putrid stench obscene.

From hurrying dissonance retir'd, and blasts
Contagious, into calm repose, where fresh
The breezes flow; full oft EUGENIO turns
The abstracted page of knowlege. Yet recurs
Each image of his comrade-train, their jests
And pointed ridicule: while sick distaste
Slackens his toil, nor emulation sees
Its rival objects; and the distant views
Of good sink, lessen'd, into shade; and scenes
Of present pleasure with attractive hue
Slide on the sight. Behold, the dream of joy
Swims round; and, 'midst the fever of the bowl,
Vice, subtile sorceress, lurks, to lure her prey
Unweeting. See her magic touch impels
His madden'd senses to the harlot bowers
That bloom o'er death's dark cave. Still, still, escape—
And life was near, had resolution barr'd
Relapse; while linger'd the repentant blush
Of shame! But repetition blunts the steel
Which, erst, had stabb'd; and each sensation dies
That rose from conscious honor! Heavy hangs
Each hour; and wearisome the couch, where light
His slumbers, at the dawn of morning, flew;
Where his invigorating genius wak'd
Its active fires; where, erst, reflection held
Its friendly mirror, to his ardent eye
Painted with fairy visions! Ah! too soon,
They disappear! while, sad reverse, he sees
For innocence the livid stain of guilt
Impure; for health's gay spirit and warm flush,
The slow-consuming canker of disease;
And, for paternal blessings, as the dew
Of heaven, a parent's rage, a parent's tears.

For thee beneath a happier planet born,
Never may frantic dissipation lead
Thy judgment from the ponderous tome—the source
Whence all its vigor springs—a source, that shines
Discover'd in clear light; while, now, the cause
Intrusted to thy care and talents, calls
To action. Yet attend the previous rules
That teach, how best invention shall educe
Its arguments from memory's copious stores,
The stores of law. Ere then, the bar invites,
Frame, oft, the ideal cause; and, in deep thought
Musing amid thy closet's stillness, fix
The imaginary client's case, revolv'd
Thro' all its parts; nor in the scales of law
Pois'd with unequal balance; every plea
And every probable objection weigh'd,
Till freely flows invention, (yet more free
To flow, as exercise unceasing swells
Its stronger current), 'till arrangement gives
To all thy argumentative detail
Its due distinctness. But, unless thy skill
Separate and class with care the varying kinds
Of argument, promiscuous will they mar
All useful method. Know, the proper points
Of logical deduction that engage
The speculative powers of man, and bring
His oratorial talents into life,
In three great ends converge—the common theme
Of all—to literary minds, the ground
Of philosophic theories—to the rude,
Of practical pursuit. While PLATO's thought
Soars in the high discussion of the true,
The good, the fair; truth, interest, duty strike
In plainer forms, the multitude. To these
(The universal principles) appeal'd
The orators of old, nor intermix'd
Their arguments of three-fold class; intent
To prove each clear position, ere they prest
What duty dictates—arguing on the sense
Of right, or labour'd to evince the good
They painted. Yet more limited thy care
To weave, in apt accordance with the laws,
The proofs of justice and of truth; adhere
To stated facts; nor vainly interpose,
Intrusive, to persuade the veteran judge
To fair decision, by the full display
Of interest or utility. To truth
Thy path directs thee; first as lightly moves
The series of thy reasoning, but ascends
In potent climax till the weightier force
Conviction. Yet, if doubt hang o'er thy cause,
Instant to thine antagonist oppose
Thy fairest show of reason, nor betray
Thy weakness by the slight attack. If facts
That ask the labour of detail be thine,
Tho' of a trival nature when survey'd
Apart, yet close-connected such as rise
To strong presumptive evidence; here best
Thy subject can determine thee, to form
Those apt conjunctions which may give the power
Of mutual illustration, and the force
Of full-concenter'd light. But, happier thou
To spread in wide expansion every fact
Strong in itself, and meeting the keen search
Of opposition's eye—thro' every point
Tho' various, singly shifted and diffus'd;
Till ev'n suspicion nods assent, and truth
Beams as the splendor of meridian skies.

Thus then the source of argument, the laws,
And thus its ends contemplated, proceed
Bold in the auspicious progress, and address
Its object the judicial powers. From these
The essence of forensic speech arose;
To these direct thine aim. To common sense
Unform'd by institution; or to cool
And deep-deciding wisdom be thy thoughts
Convey'd, in simple unimpassion'd phrase.
For, vainly to the doubting jury shines
The rich allusion: vainly bursting sighs
Assail the unshaken bench. Here fancy feels
Its weakness—here tumultuous passion dies!

Not that forensic eloquence excludes
Imagination, whose peculiar sway
The senate owns: not that the passions, here,
(Whose sacred influence trembling fanes confess)
Invariably exert their force in vain.

Fancy may recommend the abstruser terms
Of law; and o'er austerity diffuse
A winning softness, as she gives the grace
Of numerous elocution to adorn
The subtlest subject. Yet but seldom ask
Imagination's aid: and still more rare
Let specious wit to thy assistance rise;
That, often, when exhausted reason fails,
Catches with momentary glance the crowd.

Such rules as thy attentive care revolves,
Behold, amid the imaginary cause,
Conscious of still retirement action springs
Uncheck'd—or by the mirror that gives back
Each gesture hence constrain'd—or by the sword's
Impending point—vain puerile conceit!
No—to thy feelings let free action speak
The process of the oration, and express
Passion's quick changes, if thy cause allow.
There, haply, pity may with sighs survey
The suffering client, anger execrate
Oppression's iron fang, or patriot zeal
Rise with a noble vengeance to reclaim
The public freedom, and arrest that arm
Which strove to stab it thro' the bleeding rights
Of trampled individuals.—Such the height
Thy art shall gain, if thine own ardent mind
Befriend thy studies. With no guiding clue
To lead thee through the labyrinth of the laws,
Thine is to seek thy solitary way.
For vain the formal lecture, skimming o'er
The surface of its subject—every sound
By no unmerited proscription doom'd
To waste its echoes in the desert hall.
Not but the templar with unsanction'd wit
Oft deems the lecturer leaden; and, seduc'd
By vagrant fancy, scorns the servile task
Of regular attendance. Be it thine
To vindicate thy veteran, while his care
Claims but a trivial praise. Tho' lax or dull
His superficial manner, join not thou
Each flippant censure. Yet the unheeded schools
Of English jurisprudence, far surpass'd
By ancient seminaries, scarce deserve
Our transient survey. Persia's docile youth,
Nurs'd in the school of justice from the days
Of early childhood, and imbibing there
The principles of right, shone eminent
In reasoning and the faculty of speech.
Thus too the Roman institution form'd
(Tho' by no codes abstruse) the expanding mind
To moral sensibilities; infus'd
The love of beauteous order, by debates
On virtue link'd with policy; and trac'd
For many a little advocate, adroit
In his habitual pleadings, the fair line
Of civic honours. Say, can Britain boast
Such discipline? Her toiling sons that dive
Too late for legal treasures, but emerge
With painful struggles from the depths of law.
Yet, Isis! BLACKSTONE claims thy gratitude:
And, oft, the British barrister hath risen
Deck'd with the pearls of science. We have seen
The templar's unassisted efforts seize
Gems that might dazzle Rome's instructed tribes.
For we have hail'd a BEARCROFT's easy flow,
His clear precision—we have view'd a JONES
In erudition multiform, extend
The British spirit over Indian climes!
Aw'd have we met a LOUGHBOROUGH's eagle eye
Darting vivacious science from the seat
Judicial, while his vigorous thoughts were grac'd
With rich luxuriant language! Nor unmark'd
A BULLER's penetrating sense—his mind,
That with a fierce velocity hath spread
Conviction round, the stern tribunal arms
With active law! To dignities like these,
Young pupil, let thy hopes aspire: nor vain
The proud ambition; if to native power
Of intellect thou add the unwearied toil,
That ere the sun shall gild the horizon opes
The studious tome, nor closes at pale eve.

IF, then, thy animated genius feel,
Thro' frequent composition and the force
Of long habitual practice in the shade
Of privacy, its vigor strung for war—
For high debate—behold the thronged hall
Where justice beckons to her aid thy youth
Now trembling; while thy fine emotions raised
In various perturbation speak thy sense
Of character, thy diffidence of strength
To gain the profer'd honours, and the dye
Just wavering to determine at a cast
The color of thy life! Yet go; nor dread
A liberal audience, whose applause shall hail
Thy first essay. And see, thy subject comes
To take the full possession of thy soul!

And, while a manlier animation stamps
Thy powers, and bids thee to thyself attach
Thy client's cause; each faint misgiving fear
Expires, and genius unembarass'd scorns
Its former aims, and towers to radiant heights
Its solitary efforts never knew!

If knowlege furnish the firm-ton'd reply,
Thy faithful memory prompts thee to display
Each unsophisticated fact advanc'd
By thine antagonist: and tho' the feints
Of disingenuous artifice distort
The objected proof, or labour to suppress
By many a subtle subterfuge the force
Which braves the unmask'd attack; thy candor, bold
In unconcealing openness, admits
Thine adversary's fairer pleas, and spurns
The wreath that circles the deceitful brow.

Hence, then, thy prepossessing cause shall meet
Its just redress; where unperverted law
Repels the false illusion, and enchains
Accurst chicane! thy fluctuating tribes.

But not enough that knowlege of thy cause
(The fruit of previous search) illume thy mind;
That hence thy willing oratory link
Each fact in flowing series; that thy zeal
Arm thee with such an energy as speaks
Thine undissembling spirit; or that truth
(Still more attractive than thy cause) concede
The opponent's fairer plea. Know, many a point
Yet never gain'd amid seclusion, asks
Thy care; and asks it only, where resort
They, whom thy palpitating bosom notes
With emulous warmth—the masters of thy art!

There best shall nice discernment see, and use
Transfer—what never bard essay'd to sing—
The legal Process, and the legal phrase
Of immemorial origin. My song
With vain attempt may separate the shades
Of character that mark the two-fold scene,
Where justice ponders on the civil case,
Or to the criminal withdraws her view:
Here, fix'd in deep decision on the pleas
Of property; there, balancing the scales
Of liberty or durance, life or death.

Yet, featur'd hence, thy oratory wears
A twofold aspect. If attention trace
The mazy ambiguities of right
Disputed or infring'd, and by the rules
Of simple or of complicated law
Decide;—then stricter logic, to discuss,
And depth in legal science, to apply,
Shall give thy plainer eloquence a cast
Of shade unchequer'd by the intrusive rays
Of metaphoric light—but yet reliev'd
By its more transient lustre. To the pomp
Of fateful retribution if the muse
Guide thy discriminating eye, behold
The law less intricate; and many a case
Ev'n level to the common mind, and fraught
With deeper interest—while terrific “shakes
The mortal urn!” And, hence, a liberal scope
For more impassion'd descant—for the appeal
To juries, who, tho' inexpert and rude
Yet feeling their sublimer function, catch
The instinctive sigh descending in a flow
Of more familiar diction to the heart;
The apostrophe that marks the galling chain
Of the wan prisoner; and the address, that sifts
The story with nice scrutiny, confronts
Each fair-examin'd witness, and detects
Full oft the deep imposture's winding maze.

Yes! tho' the infernal brood of falshood broach
The forged tale; here, unappall'd her cheek!
Here, here protected stands white innocence—
White in her own pure lustre! No fell rack
She fears—no dire inquisitor of death.

YET into other climates if the muse
Excursive wander—since, forensic youths!
She closes, here, the dry preceptive strain—
Full many a sufferer may she note, foredoom'd
To vengeance; while amid concealment's haunts
Triumphs the dark informer, undisturb'd.

From British bosoms oft the generous sigh,
Wafted by sympathizing pity, flows
To Gallia's coast; as her state minions press
Like panthers, thro' the gloom of night, and seize
The wretch untried, and bear him to the cells
Of castled horror—never more to feel
The orient's cheering light and warmth, or taste
One dear domestic pleasure! All unknown
His fate, perhaps the partner of his soul
Pierc'd by the fancied images she paints
(Yet not surpassing truth) shudders and dies!

And see the judges in mock grandeur move
On Tajo's banks, as persecution's blaze
Enwraps the livid culprit; o'er whose frame
Emaciate, each torn nerve and muscle strain'd
By oft repeated torture, had appear'd
Distinctly visible; and every bone
In dislocating agonies shot forth
Thro' all the writhing body, that lay stretch'd
On the dread engine! Thus, in every land
Where tyranny uprears his giant form,
The cries of outrag'd nature loud proclaim—
That his associate cruelty hath steep'd
The dropping sceptre, unappeas'd, in blood.

Just heaven! can he, who boasts the rights of man,
Whether the Seine or Tajo, or the clime
Of pale Byzantium character his soul—
Heaven! can the beings, whose primæval lot
Was freedom, yet survey the despot drench'd
In human gore; and not, indignant, rend
(His demons trembling) the mysterious veil
Of secret machination? Where the mosques
Of MAHOMET high-shoot their gilded spires,
How many a janissary-sabre waves
To the cold shriek of death! An AMURATH nods
Vindictive!—Straight I see the yawning cave
Where clanks the pallid mussulman his chain
To meet the bowstring, or the venom'd draught
That tinctures the dark chalice!—Turn thine eyes
Where gay gondolas glance o'er Adria's gulph:
There mercy sheds an agonizing tear,
Pointing to young FOSCARI; whose sad fate
Told in Venetian story, hath aspers'd
Its page.—DONATO, a Venetian lord,
Not far from his piazza'd dome, at eve,
Fell by a hand unknown; when, sudden, past
A menial of FOSCARI, and, ere morn,
Had fled from Venice. Hence the senate deem'd
The master an assassin, that had sent
His slave to deal the blow. O early lost,
Much injur'd youth! What tho' thy purer fame,
Thy undisguis'd demeanour, and thy looks
Of open candor, mingled every charm
Which might have seal'd the eye, that never felt
The closed lid—suspicion's restless orb;
Yet to thine innocence the fiend affix'd
The guilty stain!—No sigh from virtue's soul
Avail'd to soothe the senatorial voice,
That bade thee fly Venetia's rage, and hide
'Mid Candia's cliffs, an exile—Candia, once
The glorious seat of legislative fame,
The nurse of antient MINOS—the retreat
Of heaven's bright race; where each ambrosial vale
Embower'd a god! Ah, sunk amid the isles,
A den for slavery, whilst oblivion's breath
Spreads o'er its hundred cities, as the dews
Of its own Lethe!—Yet its groves, still rich
With fruits and foliage, wave—its yellow fields,
With various grain; and its purpureal hills
Still swelling with the clustering grape, announce
The promis'd vintage!—But in vain they wave,
In vain they blush, to the poor exile's eye
Which wildly wanders o'er the restless surge;
And straining from the lone beach to the mists
That dim the horizon, asks if some white sail
Might, haply, gain upon the sight—some bark
Streaming the well-known pendant. Many a year
Heavily linger'd, while “thro' hope deferr'd
“Sicken'd his heart”—tho', oft, her golden light
Gleam'd, fleetingly—when, near, Venetian sails
Seem'd o'er his freshen'd spirit, as they came,
To waft the sweetness of his native air!
Alas! his friends, tho' pitying, still declin'd
The mediatorial task. To Milan's duke
(As if his last sole refuge) he entrusts
His prayers for friendly rescue—with a slave,
Who, faithless, to Venetia's lords betrays
The tale of woe. Incens'd the nobles hear—
And (as their law condemns the wretch who flies
To foreign potentates) remand him home
Doom'd to severer anguish. His wan limbs
Bound to the torturing-wheel, the feeble voice
Hangs tremulous upon his bloodless lips:
“May heaven forgive my persecuting foes—
“My heart forgives them! Yet, a moment, hear—
“Yet, but a moment, pity! while I tell
“That him who bore my message I believ'd
“In treachery not unpractis'd; and foresaw
“He would betray the trust! Thus, o'er the seas
“Hurried to meet my judges, I yet hop'd
“Once more to visit the delightful spot
“That gave me birth—to share, thro' racking pain—
“Tho' death repay'd, a friend's fond lingering looks;
“And bathe my bosom in parental tears,
“And die in peace!”—He spoke, and look'd around
In vain, for mercy, thro' the prison-gloom—
She beam'd not, there. Instead of mercy's voice,
The sentence echoed: “That, to Candia's isle
“Returning, he should lie, for one long year,
“Chain'd to the desolated dungeon; thence,
“(The term expir'd) to wander o'er its rocks
“Thro' life an outcast.” Yet, one little space
The despot's pity granted, for the throbs
Of filial duty from its dearest joys
For ever torn. His age-bent parents came—
The venerable father—on whose brow
Hoar time had scatter'd many a silver hair
Distinctly trac'd, and who full thirty years
Had worn the purple—the pale mother, wild
Thro' grief—“My son (exclaim'd the sire) 'tis thine
“To bear thy fate with firmness!” “'Tis a fate
“(Answer'd FOSCARI) which I dread, ah more
“Than the last agonies that rend in death
“The struggling frame! O by this bursting heart
“Which ever own'd affection's purest glow,
“Warm for a parent's welfare—by the tears
“Of innocence, that ask a father's love
“To give it yet unsullied to the world—
“O, by the mercies of a Saviour, shield
“Thy son—nor let each solitary groan
“Beat—the slow knell of his departing soul!”
“Alas! FOSCARI! all my power were vain—
“Submit thee to thy country's laws”—the doge
Replies; and, hurrying from his son's embrace,
'Twas his to suffer every pang from woe,
Till apathy had ic'd his bosom o'er,
Yet left life's feeble spirit!—But to paint
The mother's form—O ye, whose hearts have felt
The fond maternal yearnings—ye, whose eye
Hath caught the last fix'd glances of your child
Just sinking into death's cold dew—'tis yours—
Severe preheminence! to paint that form.
At length, the dire disastrous story ran
Thro' Venice: and the accumulated woe
Touch'd the relenting senate; while remorse,
That strove to borrow the benignant air
Of mercy, the poor exile's pardon seal'd.
Strait flew the mandate of recall:
In Candia's cells immur'd, the youth had mourn'd (for long,
His country lost.) But ah! too late the ray
Of mercy glimmer'd. Lo the hapless youth,
Amidst his dismal durance as he breath'd
The solitary groan, on the drear wall
Had etch'd his tale of misery, and expir'd!

Albion! not thus the umpires of thy laws
Usurp an arbitrary rule, or claim
A latitude of judging, undefin'd:
While each, superior to the servile sense
Of mercenary motives, owns no guide
But law; and, nobly independent, scorns
The practis'd smile of flattery; while no gust
Of passion with uncertain eddy blows;
And while opinion, prankt in gaudy vest,
Shifts no cameleon colors! Generous youth!
Deem not, tho' uncurb'd tyrants round thee wield
In other climes, the bolts of vengeance red
With fiercer fires and lanc'd thro' wider air,
Deem not thy sphere less awful. Tho' represt
Despotic rage, 'tis justice checks that rage—
'Tis mercy—the sweet attribute—the balm
Which drops from heaven! Nor think, tho' antient pomp
Dazzle thine eye—tho' the throng'd Roman bar,
Or Areopagus unfold its tribes
Of purpled judges—think not Albion sees
Abash'd the grandeur of the proud display;
While wisdom far surpassing theirs, the glow
Of freedom, an impartial power diffuse
An all-commanding dignity around
Her high tribunal—her firm-rooted throne.

Thrice happy Britons! while 'tis yours to view
The majesty of justice, undismay'd!
Thrice happy Britons! while 'tis yours to feel,
In every dubious case, the lenient power
Of interposing mercy—happier, still,
O then most happy, if ye knew the worth
Of those pure laws whose energy sustains
The fairest constitution time hath rear'd
Thro' all the works of ages! Britons, wake
To glory—wake to vengeance! In the dust
Trample a felon tribe with candid fronts,
Yet bearing murderous bosoms! Crush to earth
Those prostituted hirelings that o'errun
The land, in treacherous combination leagu'd;
Like Rome's insidious advocates (while Rome
Degenerate sunk to earth) a reptile race,
From the fell hissings of whose viper tongues
The pontic monarch turn'd his wounded ears
Abhorrent! Such to infamy betray
The talents nature in her bounty gave,
And culture might have ripen'd as the shield
Of property and life! Alas! the days
Of innocence are past, that erst secure
Claim'd no protection from the stranger shield
Of legal genius. Vain the formal code,
When liberty alone was law; when all
Was halcyon quiet;—ere corruption marr'd
The fair design of being, or the strife
Of warring tongues arose, on Shinar's plain!

Then, nor ambition ever knew to lure,
Beyond the barrier of their proper sphere,
The grateful progeny; nor wild desire
Of gain infring'd the universal faith
That, as the common right of all, ensur'd
The gifts indulgent heaven supplied, and ask'd
No brighter boon than liberty and love!
'Twas then, the unaspiring shepherd, free
From guilty throbbings, down the palmy vale
Or up the cedar-shadow'd mountain drove
His fleecy charge—innocuous as the lamb
That playful frisk'd before him! Then no fence
Arose to bound their pastures, or protect
The fearless rangers from the unheeded pard
That oft, beneath the inwoven foliage, stretch'd
His spotted length. 'Twas then, the friendly shade
Of night unmark'd by prowling rapine, bore
No pale suspicion on its darksome wing,
To hover at the unbolted gate; where truth
And confidence unlimited, and all
The unalloy'd delight that freely springs
From happiness reciprocally shar'd—
Gave to society its genuine sweets;
And bade (that high prerogative of man)
The power of speech, express the unsullied heart,
And harmonize with virtue. And tho' there
No rostrum to ambition's eye display'd
The palms of oratory, still the glow
Benevolent of patriarchal age
Distinctive in the hoary father, fix'd
Thro' eloquence more amiable, the rules
Of nature and of conscience; while the race
Of earth, in general consonance, confest
Primæval bliss! one language and one law!