3. You might walk from one end of the city to the other on these terraced roofs, and never once descend into the streets; and the streets themselves were wide and airy, their shops brilliant with the choicest merchandise of the East, and thronged with the noblest chivalry of Europe.

4. It was the gayest, gallantest city in existence; its gilded steeples stood out against the mountains or above the horizon of those bright waters that tossed and sparkled in the flood of southern sunshine, and in the fresh breeze that kissed them from the west; every house was rich with painted glass; for this art, as yet rare in Europe, is spoken of by all writers as lavishly employed in Acre, and was perhaps first brought from thence by the Crusaders. Every nation had its street, inhabited by its own merchants and nobles, and no less than twenty crowned heads kept up within the city walls their palaces and courts.

5. The Emperor of Germany, and the kings of England and France, Sicily, Spain, Portugal, Denmark, and Jerusalem, had each their residence there; while the Templars and the Teutonic Order had establishments as well as the Hospitallers, and on a scarcely less sumptuous scale.

56. THE MARTYRS OF FATHERLAND.

OE, woe to tyrants! Who are they?

WOE

Whence come they? Whither are they sent?

Who gave them first their baleful sway

O'er ocean, isle, and continent?

Wild beasts they are, ravening for aye;
Vultures that make the world their prey;
Pests ambushed in the noontide day;
Ill stars of ruin and dismay.
We heard them coming from afar;
Heard, and rushed into the war:
We kissed our fathers' graves,

And rushed to meet our Country's foes,

2. I trembled when the strife began

Woman (was I), my clasp'd hands trembled
With ill-timed weakness ill dissembled ;
But now beyond the strength of man,
My strength has in a moment grown,
And I no more my griefs deplore

Than doth a shape of stone.

And dost thou (tyrant) make thy boast then, of their lying

All cold upon the mountain and the plain,

My sons whom thou hast slain?

And that no tears nor sighing

Can raise their heads again?

3. My sons not vainly have died, For ye your country glorified!

Each moment as in death ye bowed,

On high your martyred souls ascended; Yea, soaring in perpetual cloud,

This earth with heaven ye blended.

A living chain in death ye wove;

And, rising, raised our world more near those worlds above!

4. They perish idly? they in vain?
When not a sparrow to the plain
Drops uncared for! Tyrant! they
Are radiant with eternal day!
And if, unseen, on us they turn
Those looks that make us inly burn,
And swifter through our pulses flow
The bounding blood, their blood below!

5. How little cause have those for fear

Whose outward forms alone are here!
How nigh are they to heaven, who there
Have stored their earliest, tenderest care!

Whate'er was ours of erring pride,
This agony hath sanctified.

Our destined flower thy blasts but tear
Its sacred seed o'er earth to bear!
O'er us the storm hath passed, and we
Are standing here immovably

Upon the platform of the Right.

DE VERE

WHEN

57. THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC.

HEN we reflect on what has been and what is, how is it possible not to feel a profound sense of the responsi bilities of this Republic to all future ages? What vast motives press upon us for lofty efforts! What brilliant pros pects invite our enthusiasm! What solemn warnings at once demand our vigilance and moderate our confidence! The Old World has already revealed to us, in its unsealed books, the beginning and the end of all marvellous struggles in the cause of Liberty.

2. Greece! lovely Greece! "the land of scholars and the nurse of arms," where sister republics, in fair processions, chanted the praise of liberty and the good, where and what is she? For two thousand years the oppressors have bound her to the earth. Her arts are no more. The last sad relics of her temples are but the barracks of a ruthless soldiery; the fragments of her columns and her palaces are in the dust, yet beautiful in ruins.

3. She fell not when the mighty were upon her. Her sons united at Thermopyla and Marathon; and the tide of her triumph rolled back upon the Hellespont. She was conquered by her own factions-she fell by the hands of her own people. The man of Macedonia did not the work of destruction. It was already done by her own corruptions, banishments, and dissensions. Rome! republican Rome! whose eagles glanced in the rising and setting sun,-where and

what is she? The Eternal City yet remains, proud even in her desolation, noble in her decline, venerable in the majesty of religion, and calm as in the composure of death.

4. The malaria has but travelled in the parts won by the destroyers. More than eighteen centuries have mourned over the loss of the empire. A mortal disease was upon her before Cæsar had crossed the Rubicon; and Brutus did not restore her health by the deep probings of the senate-chamber. The Goths, and Vandals, and Huns, the swarms of the North, completed only what was begun at home. Romans betrayed Rome. The legions were bought and sold, but the people offered the tribute-money.

5. And where are the republics of modern times, which cluster around immortal Italy? Venice and Genoa exis. but in name. The Alps, indeed, look down upon the brave and peaceful Swiss, in their native fastnesses; but the guarantee of their freedom is in their weakness, and not in their strength. The mountains are not easily crossed, and the valleys are not easily retained.

6. When the invader comes, he moves like an avalanche, carrying destruction in his path. The peasantry sink before him. The country, too, is too poor for plunder, and too rough for a valuable conquest. Nature presents her eternal barrier on every side, to check the wantonness of ambition. And Switzerland remains with her simple institutions, a military road to climates scarcely worth a permanent possession, and protected by the jealousy of her neighbors.

7. We stand the latest, and if we fall, probably the last experiment of self-government by the people. We have be gun it under circumstances of the most auspicious nature. We are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has never been checked by the oppression of tyranny. Our Constitutions never have been enfeebled by the vice or the luxuries of the world. Such as we are, we have been from the beginning: simple, hardy, intelligent, accustomed to self-government and self-respect.

8. The Atlantic rolls between us and a formidable foe. Within our own territory, stretching through many degrees of latitude, we have the choice of many products, and many means of independence. The government is mild. The press is free. Religion is free. Knowledge reaches, or may reach, every home. What fairer prospects of success could be presented? What means more adequate to accomplish the sublime end? What more is necessary than for the people to preserve what they themselves have created?

9. Already has the age caught the spirit of our institutions. It has already ascended the Andes, and snuffed the breezes of both oceans. It has infused itself into the life-blood of Europe, and warmed the sunny plains of France and the lowlands of Holland. It has touched the philosophy of Germany and the North, and, moving onward to the South, has opened to Greece the lesson of her better days.

10. Can it be that America, under such circumstances, should betray herself? That she is to be added to the catalogue of republics, the inscription upon whose ruin is, "They were, but they are not !" Forbid it, my countrymen forbid it, Heaven! I call upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors, by the dear ashes which repose in this precious soil, by all you are, and all you hope to be, resist every project of disunion; resist every attempt to fetter your consciences, or smother your public schools, or extinguish your system of public instruction.

11. I call upon you, mothers, by that which never fails in woman, the love of your offspring, to teach them, as they climb your knees, or lean on your bosoms, the blessings of liberty. Swear them at the altar, as with their baptismal vows, to be true to their country, and never forsake her. I call upon you, young men, to remember whose sons you are— whose inheritance you possess. Life can never be too short, which brings nothing but disgrace and oppression. Death never comes too soon, if necessary, in defence of the liberties of our country.

JUDGE STORY.