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At the footstool of Po'wer let Flattery fa'wn,
Let Fa'shion/ her i'dols/ exto'l to the ski’es ; To vi’rtue (in humble retire'ment withdr'awn,
Unbla'med/ may the a'ccents of gʻratitude ris'e. And shall not hi's-memory/ to Britons be d'ear,
Whose exa'mple/ with envy all nations behold; A statesman/ unb'iassed by in'terest or fear,
By po'wer uncorrupted, untai'nted by go'ld? Wh'o, when terror and doubt/ through the universe reigned,
While ra'pine and treason, their ensigns unfu’rled, The he'art and the hop'es/ of his cou'ntry maintained,
And on'e-kingdom pres'erved/'midst the wr'ecks of the wo'rld. Unhe'eding, untha'nkful, we ba'sk in the blaʼze,
While the beams of the su'n/ in full majesty sh'ine ; When he sinks into twi'light/ with fondness we gaʼze,
And mark the mild lus'tre/ that gilds his decli'ne.
Thy talents, thy vir'tues/ we fondly rec'al ;
Admi'red in thy ze'nith, belov'ed in thy fa'll !
For evils/ by cou'rage and con'stancy bra'ved; O ! tak’e, for a thr'one) by thoy-counsels-upheld, *
The th’anks of a peo'ple/ thy firm'ness has s'aved. And o'h ! if aga'in the rude whirlwind should r'ise,
The dawning of peace should fresh darkness def'orm ; The regrests of the go'od), and the fea'rs of the woise,
Shalì tu’rn to the Pilot/ that weathered the sto'rm.
EULOGY ON FOX AND PITT.
Sir WALTER Scott, BART.
* “ Thy counsels upheld” pronounced as one rhetorical word, with the emphatic impulse upon “ thy."
Like fabled go‘ds, their mig'hty-war/:
the noblest of the la'nd,
concluding voice, and “ Speak not for those/ a separate do'om, " Whom F’ate made broth'ers/ in the toomb." )
Pronounced with the
in an altered tone,
SPEECH AGAINST MR. WARREN HASTINGS.
R. B. SHERIDAN. Had a stra'nger, at this ti'me, gone into the pro'vince of O’ude, ignorant of what had happened, since the deʼath of Sujah Do'wla, tha't-man, who, (with a sa'vage-heart,) had still great lin'es of ch'aracter, and wh'o, (with all his fero'city in war,) had st’ill, (with a cultivating ha'nd,) preserved to his count'ry the riches/ which it derived from benignant ski'es and a proli'fic-soil—if this str'anger, ig'norant of all that had ha'ppened in the short in'terval, and/ observing the wi'de and ge'neral-devastation, and all the horsrors of the scene of pla'ins/ unclothed and brown-of vegetables/ burn't-up and extinguished — of villages depoʻpulated and in ru'in - of tem'ples/ unro'ofed and per'ishing-of reservo'irs/ broken do'wn
and dry,-- he would naturally inq'uire, wh'at wa'r has thus laid waste the fertile fields of this once be’autiful and oʻpulent cou'ntry—what ci'vil-dissensions have ha'ppened, thus to tear as'under and se'parate the happy soci'eties that on'ce possessed those vi'llages—what disputed succes'sion--what religious ra'ge/ ha's, (with unho'ly vi’olence,) demolished those temʻples, and distu'rbed fe'rvent, (but unobtr’uding) pi'ety, in the e'xercise of its du'ties ?—What merciless enemy has thus spread the ho'rrors of fi're and swo'rd—what severe visitation of Provi. dence has dri'ed-up the fountain, and taʼken from the face of the e’arth every ves'tige of ve'rdure ?-Or ra'ther, what monsters have stalked over the cou'ntry, ta'inting and po'isoning, (with pestiferous breath,) what the voracious ap'petite/ could not devo'ur ? To such queʼstions, what must be the an`swer ? No wars have ravaged these la'nds and depo'pulated these vi'llagesno ci'vil-discords have been fe'lt—no dispu'ted-succession-no reli'gious-rage—no merciless en'emy-no afflic'tion of Pr'ovidence, wh'ich, (while it scou'rged for the mo'ment,) cut off the sou'rces of resuscitation--no vora cious and poi'soningmo'nsters—n'o, all'-this/ has been accom'plished by the friend ship, generos'ity, and kindness of the English na'tion.* They have embra'ced us with their protecting a'rms, and l'o! thoʻse are the frouits-of their all'iance. Wh'at, th'en, shall we be to'ld, thʼat, un'der such cir'cumstances, the exas'perated-feelings of a whole pe’ople (thus goaded and spurred on to cla'mour and res'istance,) were excited by the poʻor and fe'eble-influence of the Beg'ums! When we hear the description of the pa'roxysm, fe'ver, and deli'rium, into wh'ich despa'ir had thrown the na’tives, whe'n on the ba'nks of the polluted G'anges, (panting for d'eath,) they toʻre/ more widely open the lip's of their gaping wo’unds, to acce'lerate their dissolution, a’nd, while their blood was is'suing, presented their ghast'ly-eyes to H'eaven, breathing their la'st and fervent-prayer, that the dry eart'h/ might not be suffered to drink their blo'od, but that it might rise up to the thro'ne of Good, and rou'se the Ete'rnal-Providence) to avenge the wro'ngs of their country. Will it be sa'id/ that this was brought about by the incantations of these Begu'ms/ in their secluded Zen'ana ? o'r/ that they could inspire this enthu'siasm and this despa'ir, into the breast's of a people/ who felt no grie'vance, and had suffered no toʻrture ? What m'otive, th'en, could have such in'fluence in their bo'som? Wh'at motive? That which n'ature, the common-parent,) plants in the b’osom of m'an, and whi'ch (though it may be less active in the In'dian/ than in the En°glishman,) is still congenial wi'th, and makes part of his be'ing—that feeling which tells him, that m'an/ was never made to be the pro‘perty of m'an; but thʼat, when through pride and in'solence of po'wer, one human creature/ dares to ty'rannise over another, it is a power usu'rped, and resi'stance is a du'ty-that feeling/ which te'lls him, that all'-power/ is delegated for the goʻod, not for the in'jury of the pe'ople, and that/ when it is converted from the original pu’rpose, the compact is broʻken, and the rigʻht/ is to be resu'med-th'at principle/ which tell's him, that resistance to po'wer usur'ped) is not merely a duty which he owes to himse'lf and to his nei'ghbour, but a duty which he owes to his Good, in asser'ting and maintaʻining the ra’nk/ which he ga've him/ in the creation ! to that common-God, wh'o, where he gives the form of m'an, (whatever may be the complexion,) gives also the fee'lings and the rights of m'an—that principle, whi'ch/ neither the rudeness of i'gnorance can stifle, nor the enerva'tion-of-refinement ext’inguish thať principle, which makes it ba'se/ for a man to suffer/ when he ought to ac't, whi'ch, (tending to preserve to the spe'cies the original designa'tions of Pro'vidence,) spurns at the arrogant distin'ctions of moan, and vindicates the independent qu'ality of his ra'ce.
* “Friendship, generosity, and kindness,” are pronounced, of course, ironically, which, perhaps, is most felicitously expressed in a monotone.
PICTURE OF FILIAL DUTY, AND THE MAJESTY
R. B. SHERIDAN. Fi'lial-duty/ it is impossible by woʻrds/ to des'cribe, bu't/ description by words/ is u'nnecessary. It is that duty which we all fe'él and understaʼnd, and which requires not the powers of language to explain. It i's/ in truth/ more properly to be called a principle/ than a d'uty. It requires not the a'id of m'emory—it needs not the exercise of the understaʼnding—it awaits not the slow deliberations of re'asoning. It flo'ws spʻontaneously/ from the fou'ntain of our fee'lings. It is inv'oluntary/ in our na'tures. It is a quality of our be’ing, inna'te and co'eval with li'fe ; whi'ch, (though afterwards ch'erished as a pa'ssion,) is indepe'ndent of our men tal-powers. It is e’arlier/ than all inte'lligence in our soʻuls. It displays itself in the ea'rliest-impulses of the he'art, and is an emotion of ten'derness, that retur'ns, (in smiles of gra'titude,) the aff'ectionate solicitudes—the te'nder anx'ieties—the endea'ring atte'n. tions, (expe'rienced before memory begʻins, but which are not le'ss-dear, for not being remeʼmbered.) It is the sacrament of na'ture in our hea'rts, by which the union of pa'rent and ch'ild is se'aled, and rendered peʼrfect/ in the comm'unity of lo've; and whic'h, (strengthening and rip'ening with liffe,) acquires vigour from the understan'ding, and is most lively and 'active/ when mo'st-wanted -- when those who have supported i'nfancy, are sin'king into a'ge, and when infir'mity and decʻrepitude/ find their best-solace/ in the affections of the children/ they have rea'red.
The Majesty of Ju'stice, (in the ey'es of Mr. Ha'stings,) is a being of terrific ho'rror-a drea'dful-idol, placed in the glo'om of gra'ves, accessible on'ly/to cringing supplic'ation, and whi'ch/ must be approached with offerings, and worshipped/ by s'aerifice. The Majesty of Mr. Hastings/ is a be'ing, whose decre'es are written with blo'od, and whose o'racles/ are at once sec'ure and te'rrible. From such an i'dol, I turn my e'yes with hoʻrror-I turn them he're/ to this dig'nified and hig'h-tribunal, where the Majesty of Ju'stice/ really sits enthro'ned. He're I perceive the Majesty of Jus'tice/ in her proper-robes of tru'th and mercy—chas'te and simple_acce'ssible and patient, a'wful, without seveʼrity—inqui'sitive, without mea'nness. I see her enthr'oned and si'tting in judgment/ on a great and momen'tous-cause, in which the happiness of millions/ is in. vol'ved.-Pa'rdon me, my loʻrds, if I presume to sa'y, th’at/, in the decis'ion of this grea't-cause, you are to be en'vied/, as well as veľnerated. You possess the high'est-distinction of the hua man ch'aracter ; fo'r/ when you render your ultimate, voice on this ca'use, illustrating the di'gnity of the a'ncestors from whom you spring—justifying the solemn ass'everation, which you ma'ke-vin'dicating the pe’ople/ of whom you are a pa'rt