Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poems

By Mr. Polwhele. In three volumes

Polwhele, Richard (1760-1838)

VOL. I.

THE ENGLISH ORATOR.

II.

VOL. II.

III.

VOL. III.

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I. VOL. I.

THE ENGLISH ORATOR.

BOOK THE FIRST.

In Fancy's day-dream, over classic ground
Oft have I wander'd, where, of old, the sons
Of patriot freedom, with extatic bliss
Imbib'd, fair Eloquence! thy sweetest tones,
And prov'd thy voice was virtue's. From the scenes
Ennobled by thy worth, as I with-drew
My ardent gaze to Albion, I have mourn'd
Thy slighted honors in my native Isle;
And fondly judg'd it no ungenial spot

For thy sublime exertions, would the race
Of Britons, thine auspicious aid implore.

Spirit of Athens, o'er my Albion breathe
The charms of genuine oratory! Here,
Here only, flourish those protecting laws,
In which the freeborn triumph! Here alone
The senate in that threefold power exists
Once deem'd chimerical! Religion, here,
Sheds her pure beams! Hence Eloquence may soar
To heights, which Rome or Athens never knew.

Since, then, the temporal good of man requires
The skill of the forensic tribes; and claims
From legislative wisdom, the rever'd,
The guardian voice; since higher interests ask
The preacher's warning; come, Preceptive muse,
And teach, how varied language may affect
The listening audience with persuasion's force;
Where, eloquent in law, the bar displays
Its council; where the senate boasts its chiefs,

Nobles or delegates; and where, devote
To heaven, the pulpit animates its sons!

Proceed, my song: And thou, ingenuous youth,
To whom thy native talents point the path
Which TULLY trac'd, attend!—for vain the toil
Unblest by Nature. What tho' he, whose voice
Shook PHILIP's throne, had power to brace the nerve
Of faultering speech, as to the dashing waves
With harsh and painful utterance he declaim'd;
Yet in his first wild efforts shone the flame
Of genius, heaven-inspir'd. With kindred powers
Endued, (perhaps inferior) mock not those
Who hold, that classic science best improves
The mental vigor. For, unless thou meet
The eye of wisdom 'midst her olive shade
Where PLATO rov'd; or view the trophied fields
A LIVY painted; or, in fancy, feel
Elysian raptures, such as MARO sung;
Ah! vainly wilt thou boast that polish'd taste—

That knowlege, which, effusing light and warmth,
Charms and invigorates the soul intent
On high pursuits, ambitious to command
Applause, and eager to bid myriads hang
In mute suspension, on attractive sound.

Nor, vers'd in classic volumes, may'st thou scorn
The geometric symbol, fittest found
To rein careering fancy, and the mind,
Tho' wavering, fix to its important aims.

Meanwhile, my British pupil, Albion's tongue
Merits thy study; whether, at its roots
Saxon or Celtic, thou commence thy search,
Or mark its Roman offspring, or observe
Its manly force and copiousness, that seem
To rival energetic Greece; tho' oft
The hissing syllables and uncouth sounds
Its barbarous origin to memory call.

Thus with preparatory knowlege stor'd,
Thy favorite object vig'rously pursue
Thro' regions, where the masters of thy art
Nurture the shoots of blooming genius. There,
The first in critic wisdom shall repress
Each scion's wild exuberance, and prune
Its richly-vegetative growth: tho' harsh
His frowning features, yet, awhile, restrain
Within the limits of his hallow'd walks
Thy footsteps; ere thy far-excursive mind
Wing'd from the portico to distant scenes,
Amidst the turrets of Palmyra, pant
To meet her daring critic, and admire
His animated form! I see—I see
His fervid soul exulting, as he fires
With all the blaze of coloring, at a stroke,
Each image that a rhetor would express
With cold deliberate pencil, less obscure.

But, not impatient of restraint, still yield
Thy genius to the rhetor's forming hand,
Submissive: and, if fair Lyceum's shade
Hath long detain'd thy steps, go, turn thy view
To where the bowers of Tusculum receive
Their liberal father, from a world's applause
Retiring oft, to taste the placid joy
Of philosophic silence. O revere
That spot, where many a salutary rule
Of oratorial wisdom, from his pen
Flow'd in clear sense and harmony of style;
Whose more diffusive elegance shall gain
Thy pleas'd attention; and refresh thy mind
Strengthen'd by argument, and vers'd in laws
Of rigid definition. Nor in vain
Shall he, of later age, whose science strove

To raise the drooping art, while pallid Rome
Cursd her last CÆSAR, claim thy listening ear
Full oft, as studious fancy points the way,
Enter his school with reverence, and attend
His fluent lecture, rising from the source
Of genuine sense—the fountain of thy art.

For deem not these are arbitrary laws
Of vanity, self-plum'd: 'twas Nature's self
Bade them from truth and oratory rise!
To artifical rules, by critics drawn,
Long pre-existent, eloquence o'erwhelm'd
With rapid force the million!—Yet the few,
Whose judgment with a calm undazzled eye
Could note the impetuous energies, resolv'd
Its various form, and trac'd its secret springs
Dispelling wide the obscurity, that veil'd
Its origin, erewhile but dimly seen!

Hence, then, the laws to govern all, but those
Whom liberal nature bids disdain controul,
Pre-eminent in genius. Now, more free,
From rules to models thy attention turn—
Mirrors of imitation! Now releas'd
From frigid rhetors, catch the sacred fire
Of the bright orator, that, rising, steals
With gradual inspiration, thro' the frame!
Mark, how he throws with graceful air, the veil
Of modesty, o'er merits he disclaims
With all the diffidence of eyes afraid
To meet the favouring audience! Mark, how clear,
Concise and unadorn'd the simple facts
He states with seeming artlessness! And, see,
In subtleties of logic how he weaves
The various texture! Mark, how strong, he rolls
Sudden, his awful eloquence; or winds,
How smooth, the soft insinuating stream!
And, lo, the passions his dominion own

In many a quick emotion, while they dart
Electric thro' the crowd, that rous'd, impell'd,
Feel, as he feels; and practice, as he wills!

Thus, while the proud democracy of Greece
Foster'd the flame of liberty; her tribe
Of heroes and of legislators, flush'd
With glory, felt the oratorial strain
Inspire their breasts! Then each emotion throbb'd
Decisive of his patriot worth, who breath'd
In manly phrase that energy of truth—
That greatness which o'ershoots all vulgar aim!

Thus thro' the forum the contagion ran
Where TULLY spoke, who, as each heart disclos'd
Strait at his bidding all its secret views
And sentiments and passions, could address
Its various feelings; soothe its cares; and seem,
Tho' every thought he moulded at his will,
To echo but opinions freely-form'd,
And voluntary wishes!—while he past
In rich diffusion, from the simple strain
To figurative beauties; from the flash

Of sportive wit, to bosom-thrilling tales
Of pathos; master of the melting soul!

Not so the Speakers of our isle command
Their auditors; tho' some may justly claim,
Young Orator, thine imitative toil;
Whether thy ripening genius would explain,
Or frame, the laws, and guard the fleeting forms
Of property; or open, by the keys
Of evangelic writ, the gates of heaven!

Whate'er thy destin'd province, note the modes
Of those who, long conspicuous there, adorn
Solidity of matter, with the grace
Of unaffected eloquence; who, pleas'd
By no adulterate colors, would disdain
The florid decoration: thither turn
Attentive, and observe their beauteous dress
Of thought; yet dare not imitate, ere vers'd
In law's abstruser volume, or the tome
Of sacred wisdom. Rather pause, awhile,

Amid the rich materials that may yield
Thy memory stores of knowlege, to assist
Thy future action: hence the willing words
In just expression never cease to flow,
And luminously paint the living thought!

Instructed in variety of rules
And perfect models, see thy gradual art
Developing her end, persuasion, points
Thy ceaseless studies, to her object, man.

Fix, therefore, on the ways of man, thine eye;
While, at thy voice, philosophy undraws
The mystic curtain, that from vulgar sight
Conceals the springs of action; and explore
The cause of every visible effect
Which strikes the sense, in all the varying modes
Of countenance or mien. The internal mind
Unveil'd, pursue it thro' its outward forms;
Studious to catch the Proteus, as it shifts
In wild variety. But, lest thy search

Obscur'd by complicated views, in vain
Essay from genuine nature to detach
Those adventitious qualities, produc'd
By fashion or by art,—go seek the scenes
Of barb'rous life: survey the uncultur'd breast
How simple in its energies—how pure
From artificial tincture! See yon chief
Beneath his plantain-canopy of shade,
(The hoary father of his Indian tribe)
In attitude to speak! And hark—his voice,
Rude Orator! awards in solemn tones
The fearful sentence; or announces, urg'd
By social spirit, the decrees of law;
And now, in milder strain, of other days
Recounts traditionary tales, well vers'd
In oral lore; or points, while nature glows
Thro' all his artless gestures, to the hills
Whose horizontal azure skreens his heaven!

Meantime the untutor'd hearers, with rude signs
Not inexpressive of the moral sense

Stamp'd on each heart—of fancy tho' enclos'd
By narrow boundaries—of the affections, wild
In native force; the veteran chieftain hail
Their judge, their legislator, father, friend.

And yet, within a space how small, comprest
His various office lies! For few the wants,
Desires, pursuits of life, where nature reigns
Sole arbitress! External objects there
Of good and evil, thinly-scatter'd, give
Few images to sense; while judgment views
The ideas faintly; or young fancy forms
The blissful or the heart-appalling dream;
Or, in alternate hues, the passions throw
The light and shade of pleasure and of pain,
Harsh and unblended, o'er the barb'rous breast;
Whose every vehement emotion speaks
The impulses of love, hope, hatred, fear,
As savage nature dictates, unrestrain'd.

While, thus, the rising image of thy art

Cöeval with the social spirit, dawns
On the rude mind, whose inward motions strike
The sense, in forms unvaried, undisguis'd—
Lo, where refinement spreads, in mingled hues,
Her varnish o'er the character, and opes,
Amidst her world of manners, the warm source
Of nicer feelings! Hence unfolding, start
Such objects into life, as oft defy
Intractable, the whole collected powers
Of eloquence. The self-complacent air
As conscious of equality; the eye
Of critic sapience glanc'd, superior, down;
The coldness, that contemns the richer vein
Of glowing thought; the speculative views
Of reason, too refin'd; the sceptic's doubt
Perplexing truth; and each illusive art
Of specious casuistry, “whose melting tongue,
While all is false and hollow,” soothes the ear;
And penetration's insight that detects
The Orator's design, tho' deeply plann'd;
And interest's venal offspring; and the race

Of prejudice; and all the lurking spawn
Of dark suspicion—these full oft prevail
And “dash maturest counsels.” Nor, meantime,
Doth fancy, vitiated and vain, applaud
Pure unobtrusive elegance, or feel
Simplicity's attractions; and a taste
Too delicately-sensitive, shrinks back
From spots invisible to common eyes!

Here, too, the affections spring from fashion's mould,
How chang'd their features! the constraint, that checks
The fervor of expression nature loves,
And smothers feeling; the deceitful front
Whose eye-brow shews emotions which the heart
Disclaims; and all the variegated train
Of passions in assemblage; such are seen
In polish'd life, requiring the controul
Of energetic genius, that alone
Raises to high pre-eminence thy art.

Yet, who, while such a meed awaits his toil,
Would fly to shades inglorious; idly there
To waste his talents in the lap of ease?
Who, while so great the triumph, would forego
Powers, that might crush corruption; or exalt
The passions into dignity and worth!

Turning from general picture, where appears
The savage haunt or soften'd scene; observe,
How meliorated life o'er Albion's isle
Streams its peculiar colors;—fond to trace
Amid these shores, the wonders of thy art,
That fires the frigid genius of the north
With quick enlivening spirit; can correct
With lenient charm its irritable nerve;
On inborn valor stamp the sterling worth
Of noble sentiment; repress the hopes
And fears of fond credulity; improve
To charity divine the generous bent
Of British tempers; and expand the love

Of freedom, more than patriot, into views
Of universal liberty! Tho' rare
Effects so splendid, yet the impanell'd train,
The conscript worthies, and the mingled race
That catch the sacred oracles, have own'd
Such wonders; while their Orator's keen eye
Search'd, thro' each scene, the little world of man.

And, now, contract thy survey, and approach
The varied manners, as they mark the bar,
The senate, and the fane; and see, from each
Distinct, the essentials of the oration rise.

If, then, within the precincts of the bar,
Intelligence display the simpler lines
Of reas'ning in the Jury, as, intent
On points of property or life that teem
With various facts, and studious to collect
Unvarnish'd proof, they trace the maze of law;
Here, o'er the mental powers the judgment rules,
In all the sober gravity of thought.

If, too, the senate's dome its gates unbar,
And, opening wide its glories, bid the view
Refinement o'er its elevated sons
Effuse its brilliant polish, and illume
The mind, that orders the domestic cares
Of Albion—that deliberately weighs
The fate of empires—that adjusts the scale
Of universal politics; here smiles
The lively taste! In friendly concord here,
With judgment, glow the imaginative powers!

And, if the vault of gothic gloom o'erarch,
In pillar'd majesty, a mingled crowd
Imprest with characters of various teint,
But, chief, the features of the unletter'd mind;
Who, tho' unform'd to reason, or discern
Truth's star-crown'd summit, or pursue the paths
Of speculative faith, or taste the charms
Of elegance (howe'er their preacher shine
In oratorial gracefulness) yet feel

The light'ning flash—the vehemence of thought—
Yet feel religion's fervors—feel their hopes—
Their fears all trembling, as his voice displays
Her menaces and blessings; here, 'tis here,
Passion, the soul of oratory, reigns!

Since, therefore, evident distinctions mark
These varying provinces, thy threefold art
Bids its discriminated sons inform
The judgment, or delight the keener sense
Of fancy and of taste, or move the springs
Of passion: hence, to each appropriate, flows
Perspicuous argument; fair ornament;
Or pathos, energetic every tone!

Yet, as unaided logic, tho' it link
Its truths in strictest series, but appears
Inanimate and mean; as every show
Of elegance, undignified by sense,
Is but the specious harlotry that shines
To catch, with transitory glare, the sight;

And, as impassion'd accents, that convey
An indistinctive imag'ry untried
By reason, perish like the cymbal's sound;
Still must each orator, with just degrees
Adapted to his proper sphere, unite
Those grand essentials, in one perfect whole!

HASTE, then, my liberal pupil, to unfold,
In full display, the essentials; thro' the means
Of sentiment, invented and arrang'd;
Of language modulated and adorn'd;
And of the voice, the looks, the gesture, wak'd
To high impulsive fervors! Here appears
Invention—with the shadowy tribes of mind
Innumerous! Here, arrangement gives them form;
And elocution, grace; and action, fire!

O come, wherever thou hast fix'd thine aims,
While knowlege bids thee, with an eagle eye
(The master of thy subject) pierce thro' all
Its just divisions, whose assemblage springs

Created at a glance—in transport feel
The lively vigor of invention pour,
As if spontaneous, to thine aid, the stores
Of sentiment, in varying weight and force
Supported, as the oration's topic tends;
In varying aspect model'd, as its parts
Incipient, or in mediate order, flow;
Or, closing, constitute a finish'd whole!

And, strait, arrangement, rising at thy call,
Distributes every sentiment, that sprung
Rich from invention. Hence, concise and clear,
Proceeds the exordium: hence narration links
Perspicuous action, in unbroken chain:
Hence, confirmation gives its argument
To prove each proposition; and repel,
By refutation's power, the casuist's pleas;
Whether, as issuing from the internal fount
Of independent reason, or, deduc'd
From high authority's extrinsic source,
It borrow plain induction's form; or gain,

In shape of enthymeme, the assenting soul:
And, hence, the thoughts that in diffusion flow'd,
Amid the peroration re-appear
In one full view. Thus oft the judgment yields
Convinc'd, to oratory's artless sway.

But, tho' man's judging faculty may feel
Conviction's deep impression, thro' the force
Of argument, in simpler dress; behold,
Thy animated art here scorns to rest—
Ambitious of effects beyond the reach
Of cold conviction, to whose guidance bends
The judgment only, that, too oft o'erborne
By fancy or the passions, owns the truth,
Yet sleeps inactive. No—she rests not here—
Impatient to disclose the means to touch
The imaginative sense, and please the taste.

See, while arrangement regulates the thought
Invention furnish'd; elocution hastes
To decorate the language with the charm
Of periods flowing into rhythm, and give

The embellish'd grace that rises from the source
Of figures and of tropes—the richest fund
Of oratorial beauty! To the scenes
Of classic fame, already, generous youth!
Thy mind recurs; where harmony divine,
With every sweet variety of tone,
To heavenly rapture sooth'd the Grecian ear;
Where DIONYSIUS or DEMETRIUS taught—
And smooth ISOCRATES display'd the power
Of modulated cadence! There alone
Thy art was music! Nor enamour'd Rome
Was idly charm'd by TULLY's tuneful strain,
While, as she listen'd, from his tongue she caught
A softer language, tho' inferior far
To the sonorous melodies of Greece!

If, then, thy art require thee to convey
Its polish'd numbers thro' the finer ear
To fancy's seat;—to chuse appropriate words,
And place them in meet order, be thy care;

Such as, of smoother, and of liquid sounds,
Glide in soft lapse—that, duly cull'd to round
The period, and distributed aright
Thro' all its members, musically rest
At every pause, proportionately-true,
And fill with dignity the swelling close!

Yet, vain each effort, should thine ear, too dull
To feel the varying tones, disown the force
Of musical construction—vain thy toil
To suit the expressive cadence to the parts
The oration opens. But the curious choice,
And apt diffusion of melodious sound,
Govern'd by thy percipient ear, create
That harmony of words, “the numerous style.”

And now, more ardent, elocution pours
O'er the smooth language, that embellish'd grace
Which glows amidst variety of tropes—
Which lives in figures! Fancy paints their hues—

For they are fancy's offspring! Yet are those
Her more peculiar race, whose power transfers
Words newly-plac'd, from their first simple sense
To import, that, analogously-just

Diversifies the style, and throws fresh light
On each conception. Thus the trope displays
The mind's abstracted images transform'd
To sensible ideas, and relieves
Bold as the magic of the clear-obscure
Their heighten'd shapes; while, richest of the train,
And suited to the subject it adorns,
Drawn from a bright and obvious source, yet free
From every mean allusion, unobscur'd
By wild incongruous mixture, nor pursued
Too far, the metaphor its lusture spreads,
Itself a picture!—Passing hence, the mind
Expatiates, where fair allegory robes,
Amid her rich creation, every form
With visionary vesture! But beware
Of charms, that, ill-adapted to the strain
Of graver eloquence, might best inspire
The poet's day-dream! There may fancy sport
On wanton wing—yet o'er thy chaster theme
She scatters all her graces; and to tropes
Adds the strong figures, that contrast, compare,

Heighten by just degrees the rising thought,
Address the dead, or animate still life
With sense and motion, or that paint the past
Distinct before our eyes! Hence language blends
(To modulation's sweetest tone refin'd)
In concert with the numerous, every charm
Of figurative style. Thus taught the means
Of ornament, be sedulous to fix
Its due degrees, as suited to thy sphere,
Thy subject, and thine audience, and the parts
Congenial with its essence; bid it steal
From nature all her negligence of air;
Give it to please the fancy and the taste,
And with persuasive music win the soul!

And yet, tho' more seducing than the sounds
Whose silver sweetness soothes the zephyr, flow
Those strains of elegance and rhythm, thy art
Hurries their melting harmony away,
To where, in all its fervors, passion rolls
Its torrent stream—to agitate—impel

And whelm the ravish'd audience! Every grace
Which softest elocution had effus'd—
(The numerous and the figurative) breathes
New life, as animation's kindling light
Shoots thro' the bloom of beauty! And behold
Action, with sudden energy, calls forth,
Bursting upon the scene, its powers of voice,
Of countenance and gestures, to transfuse
The soul of pathos, thro' the oration, rich
With amplifying swell! The emphatic stress,
The awakening pauses, and pathetic tones,
That mark the speaker's various voice, demand
Thy unrelax'd attention. If he feel
The spirit of the sentiment that springs
From nature and conviction; if he speak
With unaffected efforts to persuade,
Fir'd by the passions, by the truth he strives
To impress upon his audience; (from himself,
From his own soul transmitted into theirs)
Know, all his emphases precisely fall
On each full word, that gives the proper strength

To changeful sentiment; know, every pause
Dwells at distinctive intervals, to point
The lucid sense; or, riveting the mind
To ought of deeper moment rests awhile
Solemnly still; or in suspense retains
The trembling expectation it arous'd
Prelusive: and, assur'd that all his tones
Echoing variety of passion, note
The figures each created; go—nor blush
To emulate a voice whose compass holds
Music's whole melodies! Go—steal his looks,
His gestures, in their every varying mode,
In all their fine transitions, from the calm
To vehement expression; while thy frame,
Strung to spontaneous unison, accords
Responsive, to his feelings! Such the force
Of sympathy, transfus'd into a heart,
Unconscious of the visible effect
That imitation's ductile power displays,

At NATURE's bidding. Yet must she avoid
Those habits of peculiar cast, that, long
Adhesive to her form, too oft betray
Strange quaintness; and, unmeaningly-combin'd
With passion's air, obtrude upon its warmth
Amid its brightest fervors. Hence, correct
The unseemly gesture, not misdeem'd the bane
To pathos, in its eloquent career!

Thus, while a spirit and a manner, caught
From perfect models, into nature's ease,
Assimilating, flow; be thine to suit
The powers of action to the oration's parts:
Whether the exordium bid thy low-key'd voice

Accordant with the tremulous air and eye
O'eraw'd of downcast modesty, deserve
The praise a CRASSUS ev'n from TULLY gain'd
Of unassuming merit; or more calm
Narration lead thy steady tones to meet
A gesture gradually-compos'd and free,
A dignity of attitude, and looks
Of manly candor, and that open brow
Where beams the lov'd sincerity of truth
Anticipating proof. If, here, thou give
In living portraiture, the past event
Full to the sense; the comment of a glance,
And motions fraught with meaning, and a voice
More rais'd, express the vision of the scene.

Still varying, confirmation would adapt
To all the stronger cadences of sound,
Its nervous proofs; while, consonantly-grave,
The speaker's firm demeanor, and his air
Of self-collected wisdom, ev'n imprint
Conviction on his audience. As he reads

Decision in their quick assent, he shews,
Oft by a more majestic port, assum'd
Insensibly, the triumph he foresees.
Then comes the impersonated form; and bold
The climax, heightening the progressive force
Of action, in its native strength ascends!

But if the Peroration, more inspir'd,
In the full energy of pathos rise—
Say, can poetic pencil trace the modes
Of action, spreading o'er the enthusiast's frame;
While the soul rushes thro' the vivid eye;
And while in every motion it appears
Irradiating the gestures; and, as charm
Of wizard spell, the wonders of thy voice
Strike deep persuasion? Then—tis then alone,
The penetrating mind enkindled sees
Its object cloath'd in greatness; and conceives
In all the bold felicity of thought,
The high design; and raises its whole powers
To a proud height of glory not their own!

'Tis then the genius of thy art descends
In rapid light; and, waving o'er the crowd
Its magic effluence, darts thro' ev'ry breast,
Or hatred, as abhorrent of the form,
The averted action loaths; or anger, caught
From the fir'd eye, and agitated air;
Or fear's blank wildness! 'Tis at such an hour,
That quiver ev'n a CÆSAR's pallid lips
In terror, and his palsied hand lets drop
Its papers, vainly-grasping; while the tones
Of TULLY's voice unman the intrepid soul,

That, 'midst the shock of armies, cou'd command
Destruction drench'd in carnage! Then alone—
Then many a passion hovers o'er the fate
Of patriots,—such as tremble in thy traits,
Great artist, where, in all the mellow light
Of glory and of years, a CHATHAM falls;
Still strenuous with his dying voice to save
His Albion's fame, and eloquent in death!
Lo! through the senate glides the pale alarm
In each gradation of distress—the muse
Would feebly copy from the melting teints
The pencil breathes; tho' emulous to draw
Thy shade of filial anguish from the groupe,
Ingenuous YOUTH, as sinks the expiring flame
Of patriot spirit that, erelong, shall burn
Reviv'd in thee! O destin'd soon to rise
With eloquence surpassing ev'n thy sire's,
The saviour of thy country; while no more
The venal hydra fronts thy manly strain,
Thy dignity of aspect, and dismay'd
The host of democratic faction flies!

Meanwhile, can heaven-taught inspire
The gentler tones of gratitude; or raise
The sweet, the smiling aspect of esteem,
In every face; as delicately-touch'd
Thy portrait, meek benevolence, appears;
Or, public virtue, thine! Nor steals in vain
The soft infection thro' the feeling crowd,
When all the sympathizing action pleads
For the poor captive, who in dreary gloom
Pines life away—full many a lingering year
Shut from the light of heaven! There no cool breeze
Refreshes the faint air; nor evening-ray
Gilds his pale cell! Yet pity crowns the strain,
The lusture of her cherub eye suffus'd
With tears! Yet hope o'er all thy audience breathes
(As if the chain of misery were their own)
Ambrosial balms; and bids the lovely scene
Of liberty and life, expanding, hail!
And, often, have the assembled tribes confest
Effects more animating, when, in aid
Of oratorial talents, is unveil'd

The speaker's own peculiar fate, that falls
In nature's tone, and heighten'd by the force
Of corresponding objects, on the sense;
In each fine attitude and air, to strike
The mingling chords of passion! Such the strings
Where quick vibration ran thro' every note;
When, erst (her kingdom tottering) when, pursu'd
By hostile powers, the fair THERESA fled
Amidst the Hungarian council; and display'd
(With all the eloquence of youthful charms
Touch'd by distress) her infant, of her griefs
Unconscious, yet more eloquent than all!
'Twas then, the affections, blending as they rose,
Rush'd forth! Then pity throbb'd in every breast—
And love, dissolving at the sparkling glow
Of beauty's tears—and reverence for the form
Of royalty—(its hallow'd purple rent
Thus rudely) and fierce anger at her foes;
While, drawn aloft to vengeance, in one blaze
The lightning of their fabres flash'd around!
And, “Let us die”—(unanimous they cried)—

“For our THERESA!” Triumph open throws
The sounding portals; as persuasion's voice
The hostile spirit rousing, bids it seize
The plumed casque; and blow the trump of war!

But not restrain'd (tho' high the power) to raise
The affections, either in their simple shape
Or variously-combin'd; thy art aspires
To quench the emotions of the soul—to calm
The turbulence of passion. Many a tale
Of old, will give to thee the million's rage
Charm'd into peace! Thy necromantic wand
Arrests the madness of the monster-crowd;
And lo, as lightning-struck, sedition dies.

And, still, thy art, more potent, (as allay'd
The tumult sinks) can breathe into the soul

Affections that contrast their hues with those
It erst subdued; turn sorrow to delight,
Perplexity to confidence; and soothe
Ev'n vengeance into mercy, while it steals
The ruthless dagger from the despot's grasp!

Yet, as the christian orator unfolds
The radiance of sublimer views to point
Aspiring faith, and (kindling in the soul
The sacred passions) banish earth-born care;
See, where a RAPHAEL paints the uplifted hand
And attitude, alluring to the skies—
See, in the Athenian multitude, the race
Of prejudices, vanity, disdain,
And sceptic wisdom fly! And lo, a band
With cinctures floating in heav'n's light, appears—
Humility; fair hope, that gilds the scene
Of paradise in prospect; holy joy;
And admiration fix'd in eager gaze;
While every pagan from the death of sin
Wakes to new life, and hails the Christian God!

Such are the effects of action, in the fields
Of oratorial fame! And such the powers
(Pure or from foreign or theatric air)
Which nature gives her children; whilst a look,
A tone, can oft transfix the conscious heart.
But if the force of sentiment arrang'd
In beauteous order, and of language drest
In elegant attire, with those combine;
'Tis then, exalted oratory sways,
Wrought to its perfect form, the willing world!

Thus, then, the essentials hath the muse unveil'd
Perceptive:—Studious thou, meanwhile, to trace
Their union and their order, as thy sphere
And genius of the just oration wills;
Except where versatile occasion's turn,
Or sudden impulse of thy audience points
A devious course. For oft, their due degrees
Abandon'd, one essential ev'n excludes
The rest; or argument, perhaps, usurps
The throne of pathos; or the passions, free

From previous forms, as great emergence calls,
Burst on a CATILINE's devoted head
Impetuous. Thus, my liberal youth, thy art
Uunravelled and illustrated, erelong
Shall bid thee seize the moments to persuade,
Soon as thy persevering practice adds
To knowledge, vigor; and to nervous strength
Adroit activity. And now survey
The high importance of persuasion's power—
The power of human conduct! Awful trust!
Yet haply thine! And O! if doom'd to guide,
Blest arbiter of good, the moral scale;
Whether thy care to vindicate the rights
Of outrag'd innocence, and crush the fiends
That weave the specious artifice; or stem,
In evil hour, corruption's torrent tide;
Or shine the sacred delegate of heaven;
O! be thy study to impress on all
The features of thy honest worth, and gain
The fame of virtue! Hence persuasion draws

New dignity and grace! Attention hangs
Enamour'd, on the music of a voice
Inspir'd by genuine probity; and breath'd
From unaffected goodness! Charms, like these,
Are virtue's!—Yet her semblance, uninform'd
By the warm heart, how vain! O feed the fires
That glow in generous bosoms! Be thy care
To give each exemplary deed the force
Of truth, and plain sincerity of soul!
For there's an energy in conscious worth—
A noble daring that excites the flame
Of emulative merit, spreads around
A kindred feeling, and impels the mind
To all that high activity, the source
Of happiest execution. Such the fire
Of ancient days, while Greece survey'd her sons
Crown'd, awful victors, with the double wreath
Of eloquence and virtue! With an eye
Prophetic of its quick-rekindling beams,
Thy Albion to effulgent glory weaves

That wreath: And—“Be it thine, (she raptur'd cries)
“Auspicious youth, to nobler deeds foredoom'd,
“To merit all the renovated rays;
“And, thus, reflected from thy brighter brows,
“Beyond the boast of Greece be Albion's fame!”

END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

BOOK THE SECOND. ON THE ELOQUENCE OF THE BAR.

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!

END OF THE SECOND BOOK.

BOOK THE THIRD. ON THE ELOQUENCE OF THE SENATE.

Ere yet the plains of Marathon were drench'd
In Persia's blood, imperial Athens hail'd
Her system of superior law; elate

With visionary views of freedom's reign.
“Behold (she cried) a system fram'd to suit
“The genius of my democratic tribes
“Whose ancestry were demigods! Behold
“My freedom, hence establish'd, on a throne
“Of adamantine strength!”—Thee, SOLON, thee
The generous transport of Minerva's sons
The universal father term'd, and kiss'd
Thy sacred code. And see, the assembled crowd
With zeal enthusiastic, while they drink
The sounds that flow divinely from the tongue
Of their hoar patriot, snatch the regal robe
And bid it fold his limbs in purple pride,
And in a momentary frenzy clasp
The trappings they had spurn'd indignant! Mark
The patriot's eye: no pleasure sparkles there,
Or darts dishonest glances centering all
In self-applause; but pure parental love,
And pity's mild benignity, and grief
Prophetic, speak him sovereign of the heart.
Presaging ill, he sees the inconstant tribes

The prey of some usurper, whose fair mien
And smooth address and sweet-distilling words
Might lure them into bondage. So disguis'd,
Erelong, PISISTRATUS appear'd. Adorn'd
By all the exterior graces which diffuse
So bright a charm o'er genius that it seems
Persuasion's self embodied, magic hung
Upon his lips—and THESEUS' godlike race
Fell crouching at his feet. The reverend sage
Wept o'er the sudden impulse; and retir'd
From each familiar scene, to distant climes;
Tho' not despairing: for he long had read
Nature's first laws; and trac'd, with curious search,
The lineaments of proud Athenian minds
Yet undefac'd by tyrants. The high sense
Of honor, deaden'd into slumberous rest,
Repos'd, as yet, unsmother'd. And its flame
Rekindling fierce, might burst in vengeful wrath
Round the pale despot; while some daring youth—
Some brave HARMODIUS might arise, to dash
The tottering throne in atoms to the ground,

And give to SOLON's worth, to SOLON's laws,
His rescued Athens. Still, the boding sigh,
And many a melancholy pause, betray'd
The legislator's mind perplex'd by doubts
His wisdom vainly struggled to resolve.
“What tho' my system hath oppos'd (he cried)
“To factious millions a distinguish'd few,
“Meet rulers; yet hath rein'd the oppressive rich
“By universal right of suffrage, lodg'd
“In convocated crowds; some demon lurks
“Beneath the specious fabric! At this hour
“Perhaps the suffering people rous'd to shame
“Murmur revolt: but scarce Minerva's self
“Can bar relapse to thraldom. Many an age
“Shall see the insidious nobles hovering o'er
“Devoted tribes—shall see, with open front,
“The dark designing demagogue arise;
“While spreads a rapid ferment through the throng
“Rais'd by the force of eloquence, whose breath
“E'er shakes tumultuous Athens!” True the sage
Foretold. Full many a revolution shook

The frail construction, whose discordant springs
An ill-communicated motion spoke;
As the fell pomp of one, exulting, crush'd
The many; and the democratic rage
Prevail'd; or aristocracy pursued
With havock its broad track, o'erwhelming all!
Nor Rome survey'd, amidst the changeful shapes
Of civil policy, the blending parts
Of one confederate whole; while senates warr'd
With popular assemblies, whether kings
Pass'd sullen by, or stern dictators frown'd,
Or a decemvirate, in dread array,
Scowl'd o'er her people. Say, when public cares
Engag'd her throng'd comitia; and the voice
Of blustring tribune, of plebeian chief,
Harangu'd the unsteady multitude—impell'd
To incidental judgment by a hint
Ambiguous, by the inflammatory phrase,
By stratagem tho' shallow yet unseen,
By shifted place, a momentary turn,

By a bird's flight—did freedom there preside,
High goddess?—Meantime (to the senate's walls
Upborne on ivory cars of curule pomp)
Her fathers, rude and unenlighten'd, felt
The bold philippic thunder in their ears;
Shuddering at each strong period that display'd
Their trampled rights, the crimes of ruffian crowds,
Their evanescent glories but the shade
Of old patrician grandeur! Thus misrule
And anarchy disclos'd the embowel'd war
Of struggling elements that rent the state.
Yet TULLY's speculative eye perceiv'd
The semblance of a threefold power, combin'd
In compact such as ne'er historic pen
Had trac'd amid the nations. Nor a glimpse
Of empire to perfection brought, escap'd
The sage whose penetrating genius ken'd
The internal movements of the restless mind
In politic societies; and drew
Its features strong and luminous. His soul

Imag'd in fair idea the mixt state,
Where prince and peers in concert with the tribes
Elected from the common mass, exert
Their close-cooperating powers to frame
Man's civil union. Such the form he deem'd
Too pure for mortal eyes; or only meet
For some Atlantic isle, where PLATO's thought
Might fondly brood o'er visionary bliss;
Whose white cliffs glitter to ideal suns,
The haunt of genii! Yes! the Atlantic waves
Kiss that elysian island!—and that isle
Is Albion! Lo her guarded rocks are trod
By spirits that have drank empyreal air,
Light freedom, and philosophy, heav'n-sprung!
Hail genii of the skies! A vagrant guest,
Freedom! thy solitary steps awhile
Pac'd Albion's hills, as opening thro' the ranks
Of rude society with gradual glow,
Shone nature's simple principle, the love
Of independence; and (impell'd by thee,

At fortune's happy crisis) rais'd the state
A complex form.—Erelong, descending slow,
Philosophy her lov'd companion join'd,
And fix'd the work of liberty, on strong
Unshaken basis.—If we mark the essays
Of daring freedom, let us turn our eye
Back to the period; where the Norman, fir'd
With conquest, over Albion's vanquish'd race
And o'er his victor-armies bared the laws
In thunder—sudden, where his out-stretch'd hand
Rent into fiefs unnumber'd the wide realm,
And bade the baron and the slave, alike,
Kneel in the dust. Yet, lo! the sever'd parts
Beneath the pressure of the despot's sway
Crush'd into coalition, give their powers
To blend in one indissoluble mass!
Struck from the monarch's ponderous sceptre, flew
The co-resisting spirit, to renounce
The universal vassalage; while knights
High-helm'd, amid the proudly-scutcheon'd halls

Throng'd round their armed barons, at whose board
Nectareous mead from the full goblet glanc'd
Its amber stream—while minstrels harp'd the deeds
Of British heroes, and the vaulted roofs
Echoed the song of glory! Nor the domes
Of each inferior chieftain ceas'd to sound
That echo! Strait, in one confederate band,
Ev'n peasants, as (a vassal-troop) they rose,
To bulwark the baronial rights, entrench'd
With deepening foss, their own. And see, the chain
Of feodal tyranny thro' all its links
Relaxing, the low hamlet's brighten'd wall
Reflects the chearful blaze, at evening-close,
Nor heeds “the far-off curfew.” Village-peace
Smooths, undisturb'd, her pinions, and sits still;
Resting her eye upon the curling smoke
That blends its volume with the sapphire heaven!
But insecure and fleeting was the boon
Of civil harmony, that, scarce enjoy'd,
Fled the vain grasp. The people's threats, the torch
Of dire commotion, fields o'erslow'd with blood,

Perfidious treaties, and rekindled war,
Past, in repeated series, ere the state
Repos'd its quiet on the wills of all.
And lo! to the first HENRY the bold arm
Of popular resistance opes (tho' yet
In dim disclosure) thro' the breaking clouds
The fane of British liberty! Ev'n now
The murky remnant of the gloom rolls off,
While frowns the weak usurper; and its towers
(At the firm bidding of her chosen chiefs)
Flash on the sight! Behold, the portals wide
Expanding, her majestic mien appears!
And, as she waves (the banner of her fame)
The glorious charter, her prophetic eye
Quick glancing o'er her EDWARD's laws, descries
Her infant senate rising into form;
Surveys it struggling with the Tudor race,
And many a despot; sees a STUART strive,
Mad in tyrannic impotence, to curb
Her parliament new-strung with vigorous nerve

At each vindictive stroke; and raptur'd views
Her statesmen glowing with the haughty sense
Of recent victory, which had burst the bounds
Of speech, giv'n eloquence free scope, and brav'd
All mortal check;—'till, now, her triumphs hail
That æra, when the people, peers, and prince,
Thro' acts that fix the limits of their power,
Announce her empire!—Here, 'tis here begun
The period of philosophy, who beam'd
The rising lustre on her conscript tribes;
Gave them to feel their own appropriate rights;
Develope, with precision's clearer ken,
The constitutive principles; and solve
By just analysis, what freedom's force,
Aided by various circumstance, combin'd.
Thus, then, in lineaments distinctly drawn
Prerogative and privilege appear'd;
Objects of vigilance; that claim'd, alike,
The ministerial zeal, the patriot's care.

Hence opposition's spirit, ever bold
To meet the undue preponderance of power
With poising scale: and hence the high debate,
Still with the bounding lines in view that mark
The people's freedom or the sovereign's right.
Thus too, the illuminated mind survey'd
Its own preheminence; while now the crowd
No more assembled to distract the realm
By factious strife, but trusted to a few
(Their delegated chiefs) the common cause—
A few deep-read in history's moral page,
Inform'd by institution, and refin'd
By fashion's winning ease, by luxury's charms.
Hence elegant harangues, in finish'd phrase,
Awakening chaste imagination, stole
Attention; and, that essence of thy speech,
Young pupil, ornament diffus'd its light.
If, then, thy readiest apprehension note

The genius of the state distinctly trac'd;
The groundwork of the senatorial strain
Here opens. Whilst full many a subject meets
Discussion's strength, in prospect bid it lie;
Whether the government's internal springs
Require the regulating hand, or cares
Extrinsic lead thy views to distant realms.
Nor let the genius of the senate fly
Thy search, elusive: here thy art shall build
The structure of the oration, that delights
With polish'd beauty the congenial mind.
VERS'D in forensic knowlege and the powers
Of legal oratory, patriot love—
Perhaps ambition prompts thee to pursue
The bright career of fame; and, tho' enroll'd
With delegates, aspire where Ermine points
Ennobled worth! And well thy merits claim
The proud distinction, while thy mental eye
Clearly the constitution's fabric sees.

100

But if thou join the British senate, rude
From thy paternal mansion—if thou vaunt
Thine independent soul, thy unbrib'd sense
Of ancient virtue, and the heroic blood
That in thy veins devolves the untainted stream,
Tho' arm'd with no preparatory skill
In legal science; ah beware the laugh
“Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn!”
Trust not to plain integrity alone,
To plain uncultur'd talents. Many a sun
Shall o'er thy unremitted toils revolve,
Thy silent observation; ere applause
Shall hail the beauties of thy fluent speech.
Gifted with previous knowlege to discuss
The multifarious subjects that require
Deliberative skill; o'er Britain's isle
Extend thy cares, redress her wrongs, disclose
The internal sources of her wealth, and roll
Thro' broader channels its diffusive tide.

101

Oft, too, with accurate attention watch
The empire's hoary fabric! See, where clings
Corruption, mining deep its massy strength
With slow corrosive canker; nor remit
Thine efforts, to destroy the deadly bane.
Such the high province of the good and great
Thro' many a reign; tho' oft their fancy glow'd
With idle projects, and amusive schemes
Utopian; tho' their fond chimeric fears
Flutter'd o'er weltering Albion, as foredoom'd
To satiate many a harpy with her blood.
Yet hath venality, with frequent clang,
Sounded its pinions ominous, and snuff'd
The promis'd feast. And Britons long had fall'n
Its prey, but for St. AUBYN's honest pride,
And WYNDHAM's worth, and CHATHAM's glorious zeal!
For tho' full oft these patriot spirits strove,
Too feeble to exterminate the foe,

102

Still by reiterated force, they check'd
The venom'd pest, and dash'd its rising rage.
And see thine Albion balancing the scales
Of European politics. Survey
Her trident's strength uplifted o'er the deep;
Where fleets innumerous her wide empire own,
Couch to her passing glories, and announce
Her pride of commerce, and her pomp of war:
While, far as either India, Britain streams
The imperious pendant on the scented breeze;
To bear away the spices of the grove,
The silk's luxuriant lustre, or the pearls
Of Ormuz, softening with their rainbow tints
The diamond's blaze! Meantime, the nations shake
Ev'n to the banks of Ganges, at the shout
Of Britain's martial triumphs—Calpe's rock
Exulting, echoes back the distant sound!
But, O! beyond the riches that attend
Thy proud commercial intercourse, or all
The power of cruel arms that deluge earth;

103

Be thine, ingenuous senator, to prize
The empire of thy legislative sway;
Which wafts its liberal blessings like the hand
Of heaven, amid rejoicing climes! Behold
The angelic shapes thy mandate o'er the wave
Speeds to the extremer countries—candid Truth;
Unfetter'd sentiment, whose growing form
Enlarges, as her steps approach; the mien
Of portly liberty; benevolence,
Her open arms unfolding, as to clasp
Creation! Hark the dæmons of the east
Hurrying to their incarcerate abodes,
Howl at their fell dominion lost, and leave
The enlighten'd tribes to happiness and thee!
See, then, thy glorious delegacy, fraught
With high momentous subjects. 'Tis a task
That claims the intensest energies of mind!
And when thy studies are matur'd, a vein
Of quick expression may, perhaps, be thine,
At every call; since knowledge will suggest,

104

And ready words express perspicuous thought.
But think not readiness enough: the talk
Familiar that attends the mantling bowl
May boast such merits. 'Tis not eloquence—
Whilst neither arm'd with nervous strength, to whelm,
Nor fraught with winning softness, to seduce
The soul: old CATO's sternness would disdain
So mean a language, ev'n tho' CATO mock'd
Each artifice of elegant harangues.
But know, thou hast not CATO to address
With letter'd lore, and language unadorn'd:
For to the sage's philosophic sense
Thy audience add a delicacy, nurs'd
In soft tho' not effeminating ease.
Enter the concave senate; and behold
Its sons with an imaginative warmth,
And with a taste correct endued; a quick
Perceptive keenness in the judging power,
Averse to long and wearisome detail;

105

And passion's glow, tho' not the intemperate heat
That in declamatory diction burns.
Whether, enrob'd amidst the splendid tribe
Of Britain's peers, thou venerate the seats
Where long hath beam'd the hereditary pomp;
(Marking the throne of kings, now first adorn'd
By royal elocution's graceful charm);
Or whether, ranking with the inferior chiefs,
Thou sit obedient to the people's voice;
Still o'er the assembly shines that polish giv'n
By education's gentle hand, which smoothes
The roughnesses adherent oft to minds
Unfashion'd, and precludes the essays so bold
In rude uncultur'd genius—the career
Of talents supereminent and vast.
In such an age, the precepts of the schools
Would vainly to its loftier summit bring
Thy senatorial eloquence. Tho' there
Rules in exactest symmetry, deduc'd

106

From nature, may direct thy infant art;
'Tis not in formal lessons to mature
Its growing strength. The diction critic rules
Prescribe, deserves thine imitative aim:
Yet, tho' in just analysis thou see
The principles of language, and the means
To gain that finish'd elegance of phrase
Adapted to the genius of thy sphere;
Still is that manner wanting which defies
All definition, and is only caught
Thro' actual observation. Thine harangue
Perhaps displeases, by its frigid air,
Precision nicely studied, by a want
Of useful repetition that might seem
Obtrusive matter to the bookworm sage.
Haste, then, where easy conversation sports
With all expression's negligence, whose stream
Redundant flows, tho' fashionably free;
That by a happy mixture of the strain

107

To schools and living circles known, thy art
May rounded to its full perfection rise.
First, be thy efforts guided, liberal youth!
To meliorate thy language, by the laws
Of rhythmic numbers; and enrich its vein
By figurative elegance. A flow
Of clear syllabic harmony, that strikes
With every fine variety of sound
The curious ear, can give ev'n weakness strength;
Set off the tritest subject, and attach
A luring manner to each dry detail.
How few the models of a style that boasts
The veil of ease by simple nature thrown
O'er artificial beauty! TULLY's self,
Whose declamations exquisitely wrought
Melt with a soft diffusion on the ear
Or roll in deep sonorous tones, betrays
Too evident a toil; while midst the pause
Too oft repeated, pleasure's spell dissolves.

108

Yet study those, whose writings have approach'd
The beautiful in harmony. 'Tis thine
With just discernment to select or shun
Each imitable point, each vicious turn.
And, if thy art, that snatches, thus, a charm
From music, in her radiant sister hail
The grace of glowing figures, 'tis in thee
To spread imagination's lovely tint
O'er all thy style. Transcribe the figures meet
For ornament: explore, with studious care,
Their every source, and mark, when best applied.
Oft, in thy solitary hours, essay
To warm thy fancy with ideal scenes
That interest or delight: then give thy speech
Expansive wing; and, far retir'd, declaim
Amid thy patrimonial oaks, whose shade
Embowers thy path. Thy fervent transport fled,
Retrace each image that in rapid flight
Pass'd o'er thy mind. Thus judgment shall perceive

109

That all thy diction's figurative glow
Arose from purest nature, unalloy'd.
But should thy language too luxuriant seem—
Too studied or elab'rate, trust the muse,
'Tis not in cloyster'd science to correct
The blemish. 'Tis in manner'd courts alone
Where observation hangs upon the lips
Of oral elegance, to lend that aid
No philologic theorist can supply.
'Tis in the circles, where exults the power
Of pleasing, (CHESTERFIELD's much-boasted art),
Where spirit joins with gracefulness—'tis there,
Where female wit, in sparkling beauty gay,
Heightens the lustre of exterior charms;
Thy converse shall the metaphor chastize
Too glaring, and relax its stiff attire.
So shalt thou gain simplicity, that gives
The richness of the figurative term

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And all the measur'd melody of sounds
A genuine ease to colleges unknown;
While every decoration shall appear
Thine own spontaneous manner, scorning art.
And so thy style, too close or too concise
For elocution's elegance (tho' meet
For a historic writer) shall acquire
The just diffusion which expands a thought
In diverse lights; impresses it on all
By frequent repetition; by the length
Of flowing periods lends an ampler scope
For ornament, of every varied kind;
And, thus expatiating at large, agrees
With senatorial subjects that demand
The copious stream, the plenitude of words.
Fear not an unconnected style, too lax
In negligent expression; since thy mind,
With previous reading stor'd, hath power to prune
The excrescent phrase familiar converse loves.

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Of this accordant mixture duly mark
In many a mighty master of thine art
The beautiful result; tho', first, observe
Two great exemplars, (whom thy country views
With justest admiration), not unstain'd
By blemishes which our instructive song
Hath clearly pointed. Thro' the shade of years
If thou revert thy transitory gaze;
Where, in the British senate, wilt thou fix
Thy vagrant eye? Few are the chiefs that claim
Our homage. Tho', at CHARLES's fateful day,
Flash'd, as a light meteorous (that quick
Thro' æther passes beyond mortal ken)
The rapid blaze of eloquence; the muse
Perceives no model, who, approaching near
To finish'd oratory, can be trac'd
In lines distinctive. Not that she disdains
A SELDEN's vigor, or a HAMPDEN's rage,
Or the devoted STRAFFORD's last essay
Glorious thro' great emergence! But we haste
To catch the features of a BRUNSWICK's reign

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Where, from a galaxy of speakers bright
With indiscriminated beams, broke forth
A CHATHAM's splendour! Fast the mingled rays
Of the surrounding orators grew pale—
Fainting into the skies! Ev'n WYNDHAM's star
Was dim; and PULTENEY had no lustre, there.
And, lo! the flaming son of genius, bold
In native independence, and impell'd
By strong ambition, seizes at a grasp
The comprehensive subject, that appears
Infinitude to vulgar views! His mind

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Original and vast, his nervous strain
Unlabour'd and irregular, his voice
Commanding, his eye cloath'd with lightnings, stern
His aspect and terrific, as the frown
Of heav'n—sublimity his every nod
Attended, proud of her ministrant powers!
'Twas thus THEMISTOCLES the Athenian tribes
Struck with amazement, as his eagle mind
Intuitive disdain'd the softer arts
Of rhetoric, trusting to its strength alone!
But CHATHAM, tho' not versatile as great,
Could ev'n effuse the insinuating tones
Of sweetness, with so exquisite a grace,
That his enchanted auditory hung
Upon his breath reposing, as the wave
In placid stillness rests upon the shore!
Yet was he not accomplish'd. Nature gave
With prodigality a mental boon,
Which every eye astonish'd. Yet was art—
Yet classic art was wanting there, to smooth

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The asperities of language; to restrain
A copiousness o'erflowing the just bounds
Of order, and give method to the whole—
One dazzling emanation! Rude, verbose,
With incorrectnesses of style, and words
Inaccurately plac'd, no skill he own'd,
To treat the dry unanimated theme;
Nor, in the cooler moment, gain the assent
Of critic judgment to his harsh essays.
But, in his orb our verse unwilling points
These little spots, that almost disappear
Amidst the fadeless glory. Turn we, next,
To living politicians; where stands forth
Conspicuous in the variegated groupe,
Of rhetoric no mean master—more observ'd,
As with a CHATHAM's traits contrasted rise
His strongly-shaded lineaments. Profuse
Of florid declamation, he hath taste
That, with a relish inexpressive, feels
The finer beauties of the Grecian page—

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Say, who, like BURKE, can feel them? All the train
Of classic imag'ry his mind evolves,
And quick into a new creation moulds
The race of fairy fancy!—But too fond
Of erudite allusions—too propense
To draw from antient poesy the tropes,
The figures of his speech, to truth he gives
A fabling air, and buries common sense
Beneath an heap of metaphor. His thoughts
Are methodiz'd by ARISTOTLE's rules;
And (if no rival's irritating sneer
Derange his plan) in regular array
The series of the harangue proceeds—yet stiff
Thro' regularity; and not enough
Savouring of the colloquial—an harangue
That might beseem the academy or school;
Like some inaugural oration, rich
In classic vein, beneath a pedant's eye.
Then be not CHATHAM's oratory, thine—
Nor BURKE's; but, blending their perfections, frame

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Such numbers as a CHATHAM's polish'd son
Might not disdain to own! Tho' in the bloom
Of years yet wiser than maturest age,
Clear amid all the energy of speech,
Ample yet not prolix, and (as he gains
The yielding judgment o'er and captive leads
The passions) rich in figures, which he brings
With nice selection from the stores of taste
To charm imagination—lo! he towers
The pride of Albion!—Nor his active foe
In vigorous talents and a speaker's worth
Shines far inferior; as the deep debate
With well invented argument he guides,
But less embellish'd diction. To his search
While universal politics, the maze
Of European manners, and the intrigues
Of foreign courts are uninvolv'd, his skill
To illuminate his auditory, meets
No rival mind;—unless a SHERIDAN
With all his winning elocution rise—
His keenly pointed satire, and his sport

117

Of quick allusion! But the nobler flights
Are SHERIDAN's—the bold majestic wing.
Witness that unexampled strain sublime,
Which, with an influence undiminish'd, sway'd
(Long as the moon from her meridian heaven
Bends downward to the wave) the senate's sons
Unanimous—now melting into tears—
Now frowning indignation; from their gloom
While full the felonies of India rose,
Nor trembling could escape a beam of day.
Fir'd by those great ideas, can the muse
Observe the senate's cooller aspect, pleas'd
By COURTENAY's sparkling wit; or NORTH's replies—
No more to re-enliven the dull hour?
Or, can she note a STORMONT's solid sense;
A RICHMOND's high inventive talents, led
By patriot zeal, more beauteous than the blaze
Of all his ducal glories? Or the strong—
The rooted principles a THURLOW boasts,

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Unbias'd guardian of our sacred rights,
Immutable—the Briton, truly free?
But let the muse to her didactic path
Reverting, the too rapturous heat allay.
If, then, ingenuous pupil, thou hast read
These rules and models, search into the bent
Of thine own native talents. Here, perchance,
Lies a peculiar bias, to create
An independent manner of thine own;
Or else in friendly unison agree
With some congenial mind, whose features fair
Take for thy just exemplar. Thus, distinct
With every trait original that shews
True genius on a perfect model form'd;
Thy elegant oration shall address
The imaginative faculty; and touch
With great effect the quick percipient taste.
And as that taste to nice precision wrought

119

Contemns the tricks of rhetoric, O beware,
Left in the fervor of thy kindled soul
Thou catch the imperfect word, the flippant strain,
Alas, too current with the conscript tribe;
Who oft the vulgar proverb seize, or coin
The uncouth expression. Hence new syllables
Slide off into the language, and corrupt
By vicious sounds its purity. Despise
Each low attempt at wit; nor intermix,
With legislative science, scripture-shreds.
Nor ever be it thine, correctly-dull,
To weary judgment by the meagre speech
Creeping in all the penury of words;
Whose humble merit scarce o'ershoots the mark
Of base vulgarity. And shun details,
And each prolix discussion; too remote
From the main objects of thy proper sphere,
To interest or instruct. Thus, heedless, oft,
Of yawning somnolence diffus'd around,
The speaker by political harangues

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Fatigues his audience; whilst of Russia's wealth
He talks, perhaps his travels to display.
Then heed not systems never doom'd to prove
The touchstone of experience; but address
The judgment's keen perception, that delights
In the full force of nervous argument,
Tho' solid yet not tedious; tho' arrang'd
In order, from apparent art averse.
Meantime, another attribute of mind
Residing in the senate, claims thy care;
'Tis passion! But 'tis passion so subdued—
So soften'd by the manners, that it seems
All coldness to the fire of Athens' chiefs—
To her alert vivacity, which glow'd
Amidst her Areopagus—the soul
Of sensibilities awaken'd wild
To action, rapid action unconstrain'd!
Yes! 'tis a passion o'er which taste hath breath'd
Her cool soft tints; such as a STRAFFORD's air

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Of plaintive eloquence might haply move,
If aided by his injur'd worth alone;
Nor borrowing ought of adventitious help
From what thy fashionable audience deems
But artificial trick. The feeling scene,
Where stood his little offspring rang'd around—
Lifting their pleading eyes—had yet impell'd
Our senatorial fathers to forgive,
(Ere fashion chas'd pure instinct from the heart)
Had not a persecuting spirit steel'd
Their breasts to momentary pardon prone.
Who could despise his unaffected strain
So arm'd by truth and goodness? Who, the pause,
The tear, the look of pity sweetly-thrown
On his dear artless innocents; the sigh
Light-rising, of a soul resign'd to heaven?
Yet, mark the calmness of thy wiser peers
Whose feelings only vibrate at the touch
Of brighten'd pathos; while the lovelier traits
Of virtue, drawn by delicacy, sink

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Into the heart. Then hope not to affect—
Then fondly trust not thy pathetic powers:
Unless, sweet nature's artist, thou hast skill
To pencil her fine attitudes, her air
Attractive, her free drapery's fluid folds;
And, thro' imagination's medium, paint
To passion. Pathos cools, where fashion reigns.
Far other notions of pathetic speech
The speakers of the Roman senate form'd;
Who ne'er essay'd to steal into the heart,
By painting to the feelings. 'Twas not theirs
To touch by imagery, but to move
By sympathetic strokes—to ope the effect
Of each impression on their own warm mind;
Not shew the mental portraiture itself,
By gradual art, thro' fancy's calmer light.
Pure passion dwells not on description's hues;
But ever lives, (and trembles, as it lives),
In indistinctest energies—a look,
A tone, a gesture! Hence, the speaker's soul

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Enkindled, spreads its own contagious warmth.
'Tis thus the uncultur'd know the affection's force,
Bias'd by nature to admire! to shake
With agony, with rapture! circumscrib'd
By narrow bounds; nor shap'd to scrutinize
The ideas, whose obscure effect they feel.
THO' senates scarce admit the wordy storm,
Yet slight it not: occasions will arise
To favour such a forcible display.
Oft as septennial revolutions call
The electors, gathering in a motley throng
To re-elect or spurn their chiefs; 'tis then
The torrent of thy eloquence may gain
Thy point with sway resistless, and o'erwhelm
The power of opposition, quench the rage
Of party, or repress its smother'd flame.
Image the assembled tribes—in order rang'd
The more distinguish'd commons—the set speech
Formal and faultering, that concisely tells

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The subject of discussion—the still pause—
The whisperings indistinct, that circle round;
While haply an addressing friend presents
The candidate, who, wavering first, perplex'd
For utterance, now relaxes and runs o'er
(Scarce with the breathing pauses) his harangue;
Soliciting—soliciting—unheard—
The people's choice. And led by narrow zeal,
Or poor self-interest, or a patriot flame,
The partizans approach—one, character'd
By rusticated manners roughening o'er
The polish of half-educated youth;
Another, gifted with the exterior mien
More winning; tho' expressing each, in terms
Inert and stiff, his mean embarrass'd thought.
A third, of antient family, comes forth
As his own grandsire's portrait, from its frame
Escap'd, in rigid majesty supreme.

But who yon' figure, with obtrusive air
Shot forward?—Hark, how voluble, he vaunts

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The sudden splendor beam'd upon his brows
By fraudulence, and rapine and chicane,
An Indian upstart!—Many a vulgar sneer
He points at plain hereditary sense;
Mocks unassuming virtue's honest pride,
And bids it seek a refuge in the cells
Of dark retirement from oppression's fangs—
Closing the moated castle's airy hall,
Whose lofty-window'd pomp shall boast no more
The rich reflection of the storied pane,
But frown its horrors on the spectre-tribe
Of ancestry dishonour'd! Such the force
Of eastern opulence, of eastern state
Too menacing!—And see the dazzled throng
O'er-rul'd by peculation's offspring, hail
His insolent pretensions with applause,
Tho' but a fleeting murmur. For hehold!
With mild address and dignity appears
A long-known patriot, of ingenuous birth,
Ingenuous virtue!—O'er his placid mien
A prepossessing lustre softly spreads;

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And each inferior speaker shrinks abash'd:
Whilst with the modesty that e'er adorns
Pure unpretending merit, he unfolds
The topic of discussion in a vein
Of elocution's flowing ease; adverts
To popular opinions, sketching clear
The feature of the times; with keen address
Observes the general temper of the crowd;
Seizes in quick transition (yet with art
Too latent to be visible) the sparks
Of momentary spirit; at a stroke
Lays bare the party-zealot's dark design;
And, lashing the mean agents of intrigue,
On ev'ry point expatiates unrestrain'd—
Till now the oration rises into all
Its energy; and his electric eye
And every animated gesture act
His ardent speech, his vehemence of thought.

He ceases. An extatic pause succeeds,
That bars all utterance—when a mingled shout
Applausive echoes to the concave heaven!

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In vain the poor contentious party tries
The feebleness of hesitating tones
And broken periods: Indian pomp in vain
Flutters the ruffled honours of its plumes!
All yield—the multitude borne swift away—
Asia's high chiefs, and “yahoo-squires,” alike,
Sink in the impetuous whirl, ingulph'd and lost!
And great, indeed, that eloquence, empower'd,
Where erst dishonor triumph'd, to oppose
Skill to deep skill; give probity the charms
Which varnish over vice; and her own arts
Against herself direct with dext'rous aim—
Those colourable arts her motley spawn
Vaunt to the world's broad glare. With idle arm
Truth holds the unpolish'd targe against design
And fell oppression. No romantic muse
Would warn thee, that, beneath the senate's roof,
The blustering CLEON claims thy vigilance
Suspicious; the smooth orator, adept

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In tricks theatrical; and he, who points,
Colossal plunderer, with a tyrant's air,
His gorgeous spoils. Since, then, the task were vain
Amid a cumbrous empire's wide display,
Its fashions, luxuries, its commercial pride,
Its opulence and grandeur, to restore
Thy country to primæval plainness—deem'd
Of old the close companion of pure worth;
Since idle every effort to recall
Simplicity of manners, be thy care
To bid magnificence and ornament
Subserve integrity; o'er subject earth
To spread the greatness of the British laws;
With an extensive empire co-extend
The virtues, whose kind influence softens life;
And nurture, with a patron's liberal warmth,
Fancy and taste: hence sprung thy splendid art;
And, lo, to these addrest, thy eloquence
Shall from corruption gain her host of slaves!

END OF THE THIRD BOOK.

129

BOOK THE FOURTH. ON THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.

What time my young unpractis'd muse essay'd,
In harsh prelusive numbers, to unfold
The principles of eloquence, the smile
Propitious of the few that love the lyre,
Nor turn, averse from its didactic sounds,
Waken'd my ardent hopes. Hence Albion heard
The bolder descant on her sapient bar:
Hence was her senate sung: and hence, to close
My theme, the pulpit claims a loftier lay.

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Come, (since the view of oratory meet
For earth hath long precluded from my sight
A nobler prospect), come, æthereal muse,
And with thy friendly rays illume the path
That leads to heaven!—Come, muse of fire, allied
To seraphim—O thou, whom God's own bard
Sounding to epic notes his harp, invok'd
Delighted, whether thy free footsteps rov'd
On Sion-hill, or fast by Siloa's brook;
Come, and the hallow'd oracles unveil
Of inspiration—what the visitant
Of Aganippe's fount or Acidale
Might fly abash'd; as from Ithuriel's spear
The demon started! So shall they, who guide
The unlettered people, mark religion's power
Persuasive, to direct the common mind.

Thus too, sublime inspirer, by thine aid
May I develope subjects undisclos'd
To superstitious Athens, whose dark zeal
“Inscrib'd her altar to the unknown God.”

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For say, my liberal pupil, (not in vain
Nurtur'd amid the hoary domes and walks
Of Cam or Isis, if thy tutor'd mind
Have with the pagan treasures intermix'd
The christian's purer wealth), say hath thine eye
Observ'd in history or in fabling lore,
Topics so greatly solemn as we draw
From sacred wisdom? Say, can ought on earth
Tho' it transport the affections into flame,
Raise and refine their nature, like the heaven
That beams upon the christian saint? Go search
The historic page; and pause amidst the pomp
Of swelling declamation. At the head
Of armies, listen to the leader's voice—
The voice, that from her tented slumber wakes
Ambition to fell havock; and attend
The statesman who applauds the warrior-dead,
And proudly bids the living thus expire
For airy fame!—Not so the gospel trains
The obedient passions; stealing from the scene
Of military pride the humbled soul—

132

Turning from perishable wreaths, its aim
To fadeless crowns! Not so the gospel soothes
The funeral anguish! To the legends turn
Of classic fiction. Say, can pagan draughts
Of Tartarus or elysian skies, affect
The penetrated bosom, like the word
That sounds its awful sanctions, echoing back
The native feelings?—Ah, thy cold assent
Yet hesitates amid Virgilian bliss
Or Plato's splendid vision! Unobserv'd
The scripture's venerable page unfolds
Its chaste simplicity of dress: For thee
Vainly the too familiar lesson flows,
Couch'd under beauteous parables that mock
All human mimickry. Each sacred truth
From immaturest infancy hath play'd
Around thine heedless ears—hence deem'd inert
And vapid—or, too feeble to supply
The stores of eloquence, and warn mankind.

The listless lectures thou hast idly heard

133

Strengthen the false idea. Thou hast seen
The sable-stoled speaker (yet rever'd
For unaffected sanctity) nod o'er
Each freezing word. How lagg'd the heavy phrase!

But ah! misdeem not inspiration's tome,
Frigid and wearisome; nor such a strain
The pattern of thy preaching, tho' the work
Of sages, deeply vers'd in scripture-lore.

O thou, commission'd from above, to lead
An undiscerning multitude to life;
Know, tho' thy active genius may have div'd
Thro' all the depths of science; tho' thou pierce
The gloom of darker history; tho' thy skill
Discuss with perspicuity the points
E'en of abstruser morals; tho' the sense
Of holy writ, that puzzles oft the wise,
Flow, to thy luminous conception clear;
Vain are thy boasted talents, if the springs

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Of human conduct in familiar life—
If living character ne'er met thy views.

Read, then, mankind. Yet o'er the checquer'd scene
Of manners, rove not long with curious search;
Content to study the more simple race
Ungloss'd by fashion's varnish. These, thy flock,
A skilful shepherd, art thou call'd to guide
Safe from the ravening wolf, o'er dreary heaths
Where many a cavern threatens—over lawns
Where bright luxuriance catches the pleas'd eye,
And each voluptuous breeze wafts poison round.

Of every audience, howsoe'er refin'd,
Few are the polish'd, when compar'd with those
By education's hand as yet unshap'd.
And know, the vulgar have a mental strength
Respectable tho' rude. They own a sense
Of right and wrong, and mark the plainer lines
That separate good and evil; yet observe,
Not with the casuist's microscopic eye.

135

With many a superstitious notion fraught
Deadening the finer feelings, (if, perchance
The finer feelings could, a moment, live
Amidst the untutor'd populace), they nurse
Credulity and prejudice so strong
As ne'er to be destroy'd, but, full oft turn'd
To salutary use. Of serious cast,
They brood o'er dull opinions, and reflect
With casual penetration. Tho' not slow
To apprehend an obvious truth, they boast
No quick vivacity. Thus they perceive
Intelligent, but know not to pursue,
With stress of mental faculties, a train
Of argument, tho' evident its source,
And tho' its ends perspicuous; since their minds
Unform'd for reasoning by habitual use
Are yet unexercis'd. Their momories aim
With many a faultering struggle, to retain
The substance of a short harangue, tho' clear
Its few divisions as the unclouded light
Of noon. Nor can they feel the kind address

136

That moves the placid spirit of esteem,
Or in pathetic union mingles pain
And pleasure. Can they see the beauteous form
Of represented virtue; or descry
The character which, amiable and good,
Exhibits only to the kindred mind
Its own attractive beauties?—Can their eye
Glisten thro' pity's tear, when eloquent
In silence, penury lifts its hands, to ask
Our aid?—'Tis true, benevolence inspires
Our universal progeny; and prompts
(If unalloy'd with interest) to relieve
The wretched. Yet, by delicacy rear'd,
Pity in sensibility alone
Exists, refin'd and pure. Did e'er the crowd
Foster that mild tranquillity, so ting'd
By pensive thought, which gentle bosoms deem
Their dearest luxury?—that religious warmth
Which, at the still calm hour of solitude,
Rises, a grateful sacrifice, effus'd
From the full heart; while nature lives around

137

In sweet accordance waving her deep groves,
Pouring her founts, and breathing all her balms
To heaven? These are emotions never known
To the unmanner'd vulgar. Nor to meet
A worthless object with contempt's cold frown,
Or with fastidious dignity that comes
From proud intelligence and cultur'd taste,
E'er character'd their minds. But such thy charge,
Young orator, joint candidate with thee
For God's immortal glories. Know, they feel,
(Tho' soften'd fancy, tho' the mellower train
Of finely-mix'd affection be not theirs),
They feel, in all its energy, the storm
Of ruder passion. Riveted to earth,
They stare blank admiration; beam forth love,
Or scowl dark hatred; for approaching good
Throb with desire; or, oft as ills draw near,
Shrink with antipathy's collapsive shock,
Spontaneous; glow with eager hope, or shake
With fear's convulsing tremour; full of joy
Exult, or sink in grief; smile gratitude

138

(Tho' faint but in the liberal mind) or rage
With anger! Their's is fancy too, amus'd
By strong familiar images, not charm'd
By the soft drapery of aerial forms.

Not that with frequent impulse passion wakes
Self-kindling, from their indolent repose,
The unletter'd herd; while their quiescent minds
The steady love of lucre sways—intent
On temporal good, that actuates oft the wise.

See, then, thy task. To point this common love
Where brighter interest opens, by the strength
Of their arous'd affections, be thy prime
Ambition. What tho', scatter'd thro' the crowd
In splendid interspersion, may appear
A few more penetrating minds, that boast
Superior station and superior taste;
If they have human instinct, they shall feel—
If they have yet a conscience, they shall fear
The pure address from nature and from God.

139

To manage such a multitude, affect
No florid phrase, or curious periods smooth
In measur'd sweetness; nor on airy wing
Of metaphysics hover; nor abstract
Into proud reason's maze perspicuous truths
That, of a practical concern, admit
No philosophic subtleties obscure.

Nor, on too wide canvass represent
The virtues and the vices: nor, in shape
Of formal essay, be it thine to give
Too general admonition, indistinct
Ev'n as a distant prospect that attracts
No eye. Thy office prompts thee to display
The well-known paths of virtue in broad light;
And by persuasion's energies compel
Reluctant crowds to enter, and be blest.

Ill it beseems thee, by ought strange or new
To fascinate thy people. 'Tis a false
Imposing eloquence. A few plain facts—

140

A few plain tenets of the gospel-truth
Adduce; and on thy auditors impress,
With manly zeal: to speculate, were vain.

But, grant, thy meaner audience may prefer
The curious disquisition; be assur'd
Thy subtle system suits not with a race
Busied in occupations that admit
No leisure for research. Still, knowlege grows
An interdicted tree to touch profane.

Behold the uneducated herd approach,
And pluck the fruits. Lo! what a sudden change
Portentous—as a casual glimmering, thrown
Upon their mists of ignorance, stirs desire
Too curious, and their prompt ambition moves
To stray beyond the limits of their lot
Thro' darkest avenues. The common cares
Of life, and each domestic duty, deem'd
Too low for an enlighten'd spirit, sink
Scorn'd and forgone; while penury disarrays

141

The hamlet's humble garniture, where, erst
Trim neatness in her decent russet rang'd
The simple stores, and spread on every cheek
The ruddiness of health. Alas! no more
His children overjoy'd spring forth, to meet
A sire, whose never-erring footsteps cross'd
The smooth-worn threshold, thro' the dews of eve;
Whose vigorous toil sustain'd them, and whose smile
Beam'd to content. Ah! shivering in the garb
Of tatter'd want, they mourn, each lagging hour,
A father lost; and wring their little hands,
And, pining, droop for hunger! He, meanwhile,
Estrang'd to every duty his own roof
Had render'd dear, pursues a light he hails
Heaven's pure effulgence—tho' a faint false gleam
Of superficial knowlege, gendering pride
And brainsick folly and fanatic zeal.

Led by a lying spirit, he no more

142

Listens, an humble hearer, but affects
To teach the “multitude with itching ears;”
While his distorted gestures (that affront
The eye of day) and frenzied rant inspire
The puritanic fear, or idle hope
Wing'd above earthly cares. His whinning strain
Boasts a familiar providence, that bids
Assiduous ravens hover o'er the brook
Where vacant saints expect the unfailing food.

'Tis thus the enthusiastic train disturb
The peace of simple villagers; and rough
In every mimic clown new WESLEYS rise.

Such is the effect of knowlege, misapplied
In scanty measure. And its shadowy shape—

143

Its feeble semblance oft misleads the mind
Thro' PYRRHO's mazes; where chaotic gloom
Involves the blank creation, and each truth
Swims but in airy phantom. Nor more rare,
Hath superficial science puff'd the vain
With infidel opinions, which assail
Heaven's mysteries. Thus, from reasoning too refin'd
Amid the sacred rostrum, hath the crowd
Wrested the rudiments of erring faith,
Or casuist doubt, or the cold deist's dream.

Alas! while difficulties such as these
Obstruct the preacher, who would undertake
But with full many a fear, the preacher's task?
Who would attempt, but with a tremulous hope
Misgiving oft, so arduous an emprize?—
Alas! for him, who with rude hand awakes
To solemn numbers the didactic lyre,
What but sincerity, that fearless trusts
To its own conscious feelings, could excuse
These efforts, all too feeble? Yet he grasps,

144

Tho' weak his powers to execute, the sense
Of what is great and glorious; and, perchance,
Sees, in his art, the principles that form
A perfect model. Nurtur'd in the seat
Of academic ease, he there imbib'd
The love of sacred wisdom; tho' the muse
Of Siloa, uninvok'd, inspir'd not then
His song. But in those avenues that erst
O'erarch'd a BAGOT (proud to embower such worth—
Such virtues in their venerable shade)
There, musing oft on future scenes, he form'd
The prospect of ideal good—to flow
From his impassion'd preaching. Nor unmark'd
His decent fane, nor unreview'd his charge;
That not at distance from his natal spot
Beyond the woody Tamar, fancy trac'd;
And, as she spread the glowing tint, it seem'd
No fairy picture: for young hope reliev'd
With golden rays each figure fancy drew.

'Twas then, with honest independence flush'd,

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Oft would he cry: “Ye visions, tho' so fair,
“Perhaps ye promise vainly! For, the mask
“Of dark deceit, too often worn for you,
“Shall never hide one generous feeling! Far
“From this untainted bosom be the lure
“That leads thro' flattery's maze the cringing crew.

“If my sincerer aims be frustrate all;
“Whilst the corrupt, the versatile ascend
“To rich preferment thro' the path whose dust
“I would disdain to tread—or, treading, shake
“Indignant from my feet; if every wish
“Urg'd by no mean ambition, should arise
“Unsanction'd; then, not sorrowing, would I hail—
“Then would I hail thy bowers, paternal seat,

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“Where I might yet retire, and “eat my bread
“In privacy and peace.” There might I rest,
“My slumbering hopes of honor undisturb'd
“By those who, prone to adulation, pour
“With a deceitful smile the cold applause!—
“Happy (the hollow sycophant unknown
“To those pure shades) as there, where dawning age
“First weav'd its wayward fancies, I review
“Thro' the dim veil of years, each mellow trace
“Of childish joy and youthful bliss serene.

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“There, where the veteran umbrage of the beech
“O'erhangs the cressed brook, that gurgling laves
“Its wreathed roots, or the long-waving limes
“Have darken'd their broad shadows, may I oft
“Attune the pastoral song; or, pondering o'er
“The ruthless times when CROMWELL's hosts opprest
“My loyal fathers, hail in many a tone
“Pensive and deep, the visionary forms
“Of ancestry, that with majestic air
“Swim by the moonbeam, thro' the glimmering trees.”

Such his fond thought: and may his heart retain
Its youthful fires. But tho' the willing muse
His sacred labors may relieve, and chase
With a benign serenity, the gloom
Which settles on the melancholy brow;
Never may indolence inspire the dream
That, first, in a delicious languor creeps
Thro' the dissolving frame, yet gives it o'er
To qualms and ceaseless heart-akes! Then return
Ye hopes, fair-promising, that only wing

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The soul to vigorous action! Then return
The preacher's energetic toils!—And, come
Digressive muse, to note them as they rise.

SINCE, pupil, crouding difficulties dash
Full oft the preacher's efforts, waken all
Thy faculties; and, ruminating deep
Upon the temper and the affections mark'd
In thy plain auditory, think, how best
Thy skill may rule them, by the genuine style—
The genuine air in pathos only seen.

Then deem not (as my previous strains have taught)
Religion, a cold metaphysic form,
Musing o'er moral problems, and confin'd
To wisdom's eyes alone—behold, she sits,
While faith unveils her to the vulgar gaze,
Streaming cherubic effluence o'er her heaven
Of spotless azure! To the dazzling light
Her everlasting robe, the asbestos floats
In vivid folds. Around her emerald throne

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The passions tremble at her awful beck—
“Her ministers as flaming fire,” to waft
Into the mortal bosom the pure spark
Æthereal, that refines our thought! Hence fly
The words that burn; while her impulsive power
Imparts an oratory only less
Than what inspir'd the apostles, when of old
They spake all tongues, and saw confusion's reign,
The curse of jarring Shinar, disappear.

And lo! she hails her Albion as the spot
Auspicious to her orators, tho', long,
Unfriended; whilst, in other climes, the pomp
Of tyranny and superstition frowns,
Ungenial inmates; and in sloth supine
Snores the dark priory, or proud conclaves vaunt
Their hierarchal honors! Here the mind
Shall rise unshackled, if too nice a sense
Fastidious intervene not, to retard
Its flights!—Here pathos may exert its powers.

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First therefore, to produce the pathos, fix
Upon the great emotions of thy soul
The mental eye; and deem thy hearers mov'd

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By similar sensations. Thus the case
Of others may be accurately drawn
From thine assenting heart that feels it true.

Thus intimately versant in the soul's
Quick movements, thou wilt never harshly treat
What should be gently turn'd to virtue's road;
Removing each obstruction that may bar
Persuasion, and preparing every mind
By lenient measures, ere thy art unfold
Doctrines, whose aspect suits not worldly pride,
Or idle vanity, or sensual care.

Free to receive thy lessons, shall the heart
Attend them, unrevolting. Then affect,
And in repeated agitation keep,
By thy displays of sacred truth, the race
Of passion; which, attemper'd into shapes
Resembling scarce their former guise, and held
In close engagement, rarely shall relapse
Again imbruted, amid earthly things.

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Meantime thy style familiar, that alludes
With pleasing retrospect to recent scenes,
Shall interest every bosom. With the voice
Of condescending gentleness, address
Thy kindred people. Shun the distant air,
The formal: shun the flippancy too smooth,
The lightness too theatrical; the starts
That waken for awhile the listening ear,
But waken to antipathy. Be warm,
Yet grave: unite an animated soul
With dignified demeanor; and, untouch'd
By the vainglory that on HEROD beam'd
A momentary rapture, big with death,
Preach not thyself; but nurse an ardent zeal
As for thy offspring rang'd below! The fire
Of exhortation haply may diffuse
Thy piety, thy virtues; as they see
The emotions of a parent. But beware
Of overacted violence, that turns
To ridicule the best-imagin'd strain.

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The pulpit-speakers that arose to fame,
Ere Britain from asperities had clear'd
Her language, opening to thee ample stores
For eloquence, may cool the intemperate warmth
Of passion: but the pulpit might in vain
Adopt their manner. Idly might a SOUTH
His witty turns—his quaintnesses display,
Except to waken laughter. BARROW's style,
Redundant and involv'd, would soon oppress
Thy auditors: even TILLOTSON's were cold,
Tho' thick with oratorial beauties sown;
And CLARKE's exactness, rigorous and precise,
Might vainly torture the protracted thought
No—to thy observation—to thy heart
Recur; nor ever slight them: and, now vers'd
In nature and religion, fix thy choice
Upon the topics that may best enforce
The moral sense, instil into the soul
The christian spirit meek, and mend the heart.

If to the moral system we restrain

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Our search, select such topics as are sure
To suit thy various audience. To one point
That turns on age or station or the modes
Of character, thy apt discussions guide
Unvarying. Many a preacher wanders wild
O'er human life; exhibiting his draughts
Confus'd and transitory—to distract
The attentive eye, that with vain gaze pursues.

Is youth thy subject?—Fix'd within the pale
Of youth, delineate its peculiar bent—
Its failings, its affections; in full strength
Shew its appropriate duties; and address
The young around thee with the feeling tones
That speak the guardian father and the friend.

Or, on the duties of maturer years
Descanting, rove not with digressive wing.

But still to thy selected topic true,
Trace the hoar lineaments of tremulous age

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Dropping into the grave. Trite is the tale
Of mortal frailness; but the gloomy truth
Yet interests and affects: and what affects
Will influence. For, tho' oft the passions, rous'd
By vivid strokes of the pathetic, glow
With but a momentary flush, and faint
Full fast away; still something at the heart
Lingers in feeble pulses inextinct,
That quick recurs to conscience, at the hour
Of meditated evil: the weak sense
By oratorial energies renew'd,
Acquires an active vigor to repel
The power of vice. The pictur'd frown of death
Hath ev'n awak'd from lethargies of sin
The sluggard soul; and bade it trembling fly
The horrors that enwrap the yawning gulph.

Nor seldom, stealing with familiar strain
Into his business and his bosom, paint
The poor man's lot; whilst in the house of God
The virtuous peasant shall beside the peer

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Stand forth, embolden'd. Tell him, if the glow
Of floating purple shade o'erweening pride,
His is the better livery that infolds
The limbs of want: and tell him, tho' his hours
Of still devotional repose are few,
If pious meditation shall await
His steps into the field, the humble vow
Breath'd from amidst his labors, may ascend
The purest incense that embalms the skies.

Thus it behoves thee to inspect with care
Life's shifting circumstance. The social ties,
The duties that reciprocally bind
The human race, shall in strong light appear
Link'd with peculiar stations. Tho' alike
“The tender charities of father, son,
“And brother,” interest all our mortal race;
Lovelier shall they attract the poor, if drawn
Beneath the straw-roof'd dwelling, or the rich,
If shadow'd in the splendor of the dome.

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And human character with no vain force
May arm thy eloquence. Its simple forms
Shall strike the rude spectator, and excite
The conscious feelings. But the draught refin'd
Rarely the vulgar apprehension meets,
Tho' well thy pencil's mimic powers it prove.

Here may the historic instance give effect
To moral portraits. From the sacred fount
Bring forth the forcible example. Show
The grey BARZILLAI's honourable age
Placid, tho' to the minstrel's warbled voice—
To the sweet meltings of luxurious lutes
No more awake! Shew HEZEKIAH frail
In human weakness, and still asking life!
Shew saintly TIMOTHY, tho' young, detacht
From sensual joys. Exhibit LAZARUS poor—
Arimathean JOSEPH rich, yet proud
To bear the christian banner! And describe
The trembling FELIX! Such as these beseem
Thy pulpit oratory, opening tracts

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Recent in various beauties; where the heart
Throbs with the keen emotions of delight
Or fear; and (as the obedient memory stores
The striking incident) beats every pulse
In corresponding tones to nature's sense;
Till, sudden, by an unexpected stroke
At once discover'd to itself, it sees
Its every winding avenue; shrinks back
From its detected vices, (never view'd
Before, but with a transitory glance),
And shudders at the brood it fosters there.

If, in the christian system, we behold
The radiant sun of righteousness arise
With healing in its wings—to stream forth light
Upon the sterner virtues, to relume
By pure effulgence mild the moral world;
'Tis here pathetic eloquence shall greet
Prospects at which ev'n paradise might fade,
Tho' all its bowers hung blooming to the breath
Of innocence!—'Twas Eden's happy pair

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Announc'd creation's blessings. But here burst,
Ineffably benign, redemption's rays,
Whilst in a mute amaze archangels hail
The infinitude of mediatorial love!

Here shall thy glowing oratory charm
With an unwonted lustre, as it meets
The meekness of the christian—his calm eye
Wet with the tear of gratitude! To prove
Religion's firmly-rooted truths, by long
Elaborate deduction, were to freeze
That feeling tear! The unfathomable strain
The vulgar may admire: but not with breath
More idly eloquent, the sainted sage
Gather'd around him on the rocky shore
The scaly race that cleave the hoary deep.

Insist not, therefore, with a tedious length,
On proofs external. The strong leading facts
Concisely representing, quickly bring

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The internal evidence to light, that strikes
Conviction while it sinks into the heart.

Faith is, perhaps, thy topic. Ah beware
Of mazy ambiguities too dark
For letter'd minds. Attempt not to premise
The jarring tenets of innumerous sects;
But in perspicuous enarration touch
The important theme. Clear argument may rise
In short succession: yet the historic draught
Shall occupy attention's stedfast soul.
The weak apostle's unbelief; his doubts
Quick into faith resolving; the despair
Of tortur'd JUDAS, who in bitter shame—
In the black writhing of remorse exclaim'd,
“I have betray'd the blood of innocence”—
These are the potent instances sublime
That best become thy subject and thyself;
The bold examples that command belief;
The judgment and the passions at a stroke
Convince and move; repel with wond'rous force

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The skeptic's rebel reason; and inform
The meanest intellect with instant light.

And should repentance be thy plainer theme,
Discourse not in too general terms that fix
But feebly on the memory. Show its powers
As instanc'd by the roving son, who fled
With sorrow, from the harlot's treacherous smile
To his glad father's bosom. If thy speech
The stronger passions shall address, behold
The everlasting gospel brings to view,
Amid the horrors of the spreading gloom
Miraculous, a dying Saviour nail'd
Upon the cross, while in the midst is rent
The temple's veil; and the pale vaults resign
Their dead! Behold, the gospel blazons forth
The dissolution of a world in flames;
Pictures the bloody sun; the rushing spheres,
The elements that melt with fervent heat;
Portrays the throne of judgment and the crowds
That meet their doom eternal—some ingulph'd

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In fiery depths sulphureous; others high
Among the saints, and crown'd with starry light.

These be thy topics—thy sententious phrase
With each variety of figures fraught
That heighten the pathetic; while exclaim
The affections in apostrophes; suspend
Attention by the well-tim'd pause; contrast
The bold-drawn imag'ry; or break away,
In all the abruptness of transition, wild.

Thus, whilst thy pulpit-oratory lives
In nature, scripture echoes to its strain;
Whether the cheerful or serene shall flow,
Or the devout in feeling beauty breath'd,
The sorrowful, the joyous, the sublime.

And lo! the oration model'd by the rules
Of beautiful arrangement, shall despise
The studied air—the mechanism that marks
A chain of subdivision. Every part

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Shall coalesce with ease; nor passion wait
Invariably, the peroration's call.

Such is the manner only, that becomes
The pulpit. And it strikes with double force,
While dignified demeanor, and a sense
Of duty in the unerring conduct shewn,
And fatherly affection never damp'd
By low pursuits of lucre, o'er thee spread
The sunshine of sincerity. Can they,
Whose inconsistent lives not rarely seem
A very contrast to the truths they preach,
Reform the general morals?—When the light,
The volatile, the modish churchman mounts
The hallow'd rostrum with an airy step
That rivals ev'n a Vestris' ease, and casts
His careless glances on the pews below,
What are his bosom-feelings? Sure, one pause,
One little pause the vanities resign
To serious thought; as to his distant home
Retiring from Augusta, he yet deigns

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To visit, for awhile, his vagrant charge.
Alas! he scarcely knows (nor strives to know)
His blunt unfashion'd people; but to all
Bowing with graceful condescension, pays
An undistinguishing regard; then flies
(Delighted that his tedious task is o'er)
Back to the scenes, while, hailing his approach,
Soft pleasure strews the rosy couch, and clasps,
Familiar, the fond votary to her arms!

And say, tho' yonder bloated priest may lead
Far from the city-smoke his rustic hours;
In the rude science of the chace alone
A finish'd master, is it not his joy
(All duty superseding) to direct
The clamourous pack; or quaff the mellow draught
Of brown October; or by many an oath
Proclaim his manly daring to a mind
Congenial with his own; e'en while he stoops
In fulsome adulation to caress
His patron, who with benefices, fat

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And flowing as the land of Israel's hope,
Repays the homage of the fawning slave?

Yet, not the brightest character that trusts
To its own genuine worth, nor borrows aid
From circumstance exterior, can o'erawe
The servile multitude; obsequious they,
Where adventitious consequence, conferr'd
By wealth alone, corroborates the force
Of fair example. Oft hath merit mourn'd
The transient influence of its duteous toils,
And droop'd unheeded in the sickly shade!
There too, submitted to its humble sphere,
The mind, that might have sprung aloft, sinks down
In feeble acquiescence; never more
To exert the native powers of freeborn man.
'Tis thus the caged lark, denied to soar
Amidst the orient's kindling light, and dip
His pinions in the morning-tinctur'd cloud,
Yet pecks the verdure of his little turf,
Within his narrow bound, content and tame!

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Haply, the pittance of a cure is thine,
The seat of rough rusticity, retir'd
From garish opulence. Even here, thy words
Tho' stamp'd by truth and pathos, and the weight
Of thy unblemisht conduct, shall impel
Not always with an unresisted power
The crowd to virtue's paths. But what avails
Thy every effort with the vulgar crew,
If, circled by the pleasures, and begirt
By gorgeous pomp, a great one hath debauch'd
Their groveling minds, and led them far from thee?

Long by romantic Arun's stream was mark'd
At little distance from a tuft of trees
That half-conceal'd the steeple, a low roof,
Where Villicus, a modest curate, past
Full many a day—tho' unambitious, vex'd
With griefs his spirit knew not to sustain;
And, tho' assiduous in his office, check'd
By feelings that might damp no trivial sense
Of sacred duty. Ever was he seen

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A faithful pastor; whether the return
Of Sabbaths call'd his oratory forth,
(For he was eloquent as one instinct
With heaven's own spirit), whether he was wont
To join, on festivals, a scatter'd few
In pious prayer, while each clear echo told
The vacant pews; whether the wasting sick,
Abandon'd by the help of man, implor'd
The sweet consolatory balm that soothes
The dying; or the last sad office claim'd
His feeling tear that trickled at the sobs
Of funeral woe, what time the evening sun
Flung on the freshness of the new-turn'd grave
A lingering beam. In admonition warm,
Oft did he caution the too thoughtless tribes
Against each sin that easily besets
The heart; and oft, more anxious than their fires,
Taught the surrounding innocents, who lov'd
His friendly smile, the lesson to be good.

Yet inauspicious were his fairest aims,

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While the degenerate villagers despis'd
His fervid exhortation; wantoning oft
Amidst the remnants of luxurious feasts,
Where a contiguous mansion overbrow'd
The curate's little hamlet. In that dome
A lord (begotten, where the Ganges rolls,
By murder on chicane) revell'd uncheck'd;
Nor heeded the dull monitor within
Which points to virtue. Prodigal, yet void
Of any generous feelings, he pour'd forth
A waste of wealth to feed the rich—the poor;
Who, indistinguishably blended, caught
The vices of his menial train, and spread
The quick contagious profligacy round.

Shameless amid lascivious ease, and lost
In pleasure's fond delirium, he display'd
His bosom-barlots to the wondering view
Of rustics; or, enamour'd at a glance,
Vow'd to the simple girl unblushing love!

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Nor strove he in God's hallow'd house (if there
He sacrific'd to form an irksome hour)
To check the look licentious, or the grin
Of levity that, all irreverent, past
Thro' mimic pews—ah, more infectious far
Than chaste devotion's fire, effus'd by thee,
Much injur'd Villicus! who, doom'd to meet
The sneer of dissolute contempt, the taunts
Of menial insolence, yet bending o'er
Thy flock, wert wont with a presageful eye
To mourn the spreading evil. And to mourn—
To preach, were frivolous alike—thy breath
Of eloquence as idle as thy tear!
Thus, the once animated strain, too oft,
Faints into feeble lecture: thus, the ties
Of loosen'd duty languish on our hands,
All interrupted; and we leave our charge,
Care-worn. But Villicus, who brook'd not sin
Tho' drest in fashion's colours gay, oppos'd
Her glaring front with irretorted aim.
Strong was his phrase and ardent; whilst the sight

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Of crouded aisles inspir'd new zeal. And still
He toil'd; when, sudden the proud lordling's rage
Dash'd his sincerest efforts by a power
The wealthy feel—a power to crush the weak;
And, wresting from his grasp the scanty dole
Which unaffected duty had endear'd,
Bade many a sycophantic tongue (that sounds
A great man's echo) spread calumnious tales
To tarnish with the aspersing taint his fame;
Tho' al he preach'd was virtue, and his life
Was but a comment on the truths he preach'd!

Here, pupil, might we rest—the genuine vein
Of pulpit-eloquence already trac'd—
But let us mark occasions that may ask
More argument or elegance than suits
The multitude; and touching on the modes
That in discriminated features shew
Thy art, propose the models which may claim
Thy just regard.—A learned audience loves,
As Granta's, or as Rhedyeina's sons,

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Ev'n the polemic question. Not but there
The champions of the theologic war
Misplace their oratory. For, behold,
Those hearers that await the preacher's nod
In academic bowers, are, chief, the young,
With fancy gay and vigorous. Doth the dry
The strict methodic dissertation suit
Their airy spirits?—Rather note the sting
Of secret vice, exhort to study, point
The prize of honor, and distinctly draw
Virtue's fair outline. Yet, if thus alone
The academic doctor err'd, the blame

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Were trivial to the censure that pursues
His steps, as thro' Saint-Mary's ancient gate

173

Wide-opening to the sable-vested sons
Of Isis, he directs his way; to spread
The dews of Morpheus. Few can Isis boast
Vers'd in thy art! But many a fine discourse
That, dull and clattering, from the pulpit fell,
Flows from the press, a rich transmuted ore.

Nor academic preaching where slow Cam
Rests on its sedges the dark stream, exceeds
The fame of Isis: and Augusta knows
(Tho' there the affected, finical and smooth,
May gain a fleeting plaudit from the slaves
Of fashion) scarce an orator, to charm
Discerning taste. Yet her forensic tribes
Hath sacred eloquence delighted oft
In elegant attire. The templar loves
The truth not unadorn'd, pleas'd to relax
His dry laborious studies; but suspects

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The appeal to passion. Stor'd with jests profane
And fond to vaunt opinions that may wear
A colourable speciousness, he meets
With proud objection the thrice-hallow'd tome;
Tho' he hath never op'd (by other cares
Pre-occupied) the volume he decries!
Point then his mind's acumen to the proofs
Of revelation. O'er thy reasoning throw
The robe of rhetorick. Not that ornament
Should, here, invest thy topics with a glare
Of superficial richness. Rather verge
To SHERLOCK's plain compactness, that admits
No decorating figures, than o'erload
Thy lessons with the metaphor's crude mass.

These, on a general survey, are the modes
Of pulpit-oratory, which agree
With no unletter'd audience. But in these
(Where judgment or the lively fancy reigns
Predominant o'er passion) genius bids
The different mannerists attract the eye

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Of fame. Hence, by an easy process, slides
The species into country-fanes—transcrib'd
By mimic ignorance. What tho' HORNE may clothe
His thoughts in beauteous metaphor, he knows
To discipline his fancy—to command
The heart; and by familiar accents move
The christian soul! Say, what tho' PORTEUS strike
By copious sentiment, condens'd and strong;
Or graceful HURD may reason in a style
Of elegant deduction, as a voice
More musical than ATTERBURY's, holds
The still attention; pathos best accords
With common hearers; nor is misapplied
Ev'n to the more refin'd. The statelier pomp
Of high cathedral dignities may frown
Upon the impassion'd period; and the pride
Of science too pedantic may propose
The closer method of the deep discourse,
As the sole imitable mode. Yet say,
Doth not the fane effuse its holy gloom
O'er various minds, the polisht or unform'd

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In each gradation—o'er the gentle breast
Whence unaffected sentiment aspires;
Whence pure devotion's flame? Is there a heart
Feels not the address from BLAIR; tho' strict, not dull,
Impassion'd and yet temperate, tho' refin'd
Yet rarely florid? Who but owns the charm
As STONEHOUSE gives to sentiment new soul,
From every fine inflexion of a voice
Distinct and sweet? 'Tis thus thy art hath drawn
Persuasion's genuine excellence and force
From nature and the scriptures! These are thine

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These are already open to thy view
In fair display! I see, auspicious youth,

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Thy bosom kindle, as thy sacred guides
Pass in array before thee! I behold
Thine ardors mark a Saviour on the mount
That mocks the rigor of the stoic porch,
And his pathetic look on PETER cast,

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And his heart-breathing accents in the path
To Emmaus, at dim eve! I see thee hail
The martyr's angel-features, all illum'd
By inspiration's lustre, while he bids
Sublimest truths inform the unhallow'd ear!—
I see thee turn to Lystra's prostrate tribes
That fell astonish'd at the feet of PAUL,
And, as the god of eloquence, ador'd
The saint! I see thee trace him, at the throne
Of the half-christian king; or midst the shrines
Of Athens! And thine own exalted mind
I see with transport glowing, as the powers
Of BLAIR and STONEHOUSE meet—combin'd in thee!

Thus then, (thy glorious mission duly view'd
As of eternal moment) be it thine,
Whilst other speakers, less rever'd, pursue
Their own appropriate task, as erst my verse
Instructed; whether at the learned bar
Strict reasoning gain conviction; or the dome

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Of senates echoe to the embellish'd phrase;
(Man's temporal welfare their inferior end);
Be thine the nobler office to persuade
By exhortation, fix in every soul
Its fervor for the immortal scene, and point
The path—tho' here thou walk, yet lent to earth,
Thy heart establish'd in the bliss of heaven!

END OF FIRST VOLUME.