1

By their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distilled
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me,
In dreadful secrecy, impart they did;
And I with them, the third night, kept the watch:
Where, as they had delivered, both, in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes. I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.

Ham. But where was this?

Hor. My lord, upon the platform, where we watched.
Ham. Did you not speak to it?

Hor. My lord, I did;

But answer made it none.

Yet once, methought,

It lifted up its head, and did address

Itself to motion, like as it would speak :

But even then the morning cock crew loud;

And, at the sound, it shrunk in haste away,

And vanished from our sight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange!

Hor. As I do live, my honored lord, 'tis true;

And we did think it writ down in our duty,

To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sir, but this troubles me.

Hold you the watch to-night?

Hor. We do, my lord.

Ham. Armed, say you ?

Hor. Armed, my lord.

Ham. From top to toe?

Hor. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. Then saw you not his face ?

Hor. O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.

Ham. What, looked he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance more

In sorrow than in anger.

Ham. Pale, or red ?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there!

Hor. It would have much amazed you.

Ham. Very like, very like-Staid it long?

Hor. While one with a moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Ham. His beard was grizzled?-no?

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,

A sable silvered.

Ham. I will watch to-night;
Perchance 'twill walk again.
Hor. I warrant 'twill.

Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you, sir,
If you have hitherto concealed this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your love; so, fare you well.
Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

LXXX.-DESCRIPTION OF JUNIUS.

Burke.

WHERE, Mr. Speaker, shall we look for the origin of this relaxation of the laws, and of all government? How comes this Junius to have broken through the cobwebs of the law, and to range uncontrolled, unpunished, through the land? The myrmidons of the court have been long, and are still, pursuing him in vain. They will not spend their time upon me, or you; no: they disdain such vermin, when the mighty boar of the forest, that has broken through all their toils, is before them. But, what will all their efforts avail? No sooner has he wounded one, than he lays down another dead at his feet. For my part, when I saw his attack upon the king, I own my blood ran cold. I thought he had ventured too far, and that there was an end of his triumphs; not that he had not asserted many truths. Yes, sir, there are in that composition many bold truths by which a wise prince might profit. But while I expected from this daring flight his final ruin and fall, behold him rising still higher, and coming down souse upon both houses of parliament. Yes, he did make you his quarry, and you still bleed from the wounds of his talons. You crouched, and still crouch beneath his rage. Nor has he dreaded the terror of your brow, sir; he has attacked even you-he has-and I believe you have no reason to triumph in the encounter. In short, after carrying away our royal eagle in his pounces, and dashing him against a rock, he has laid you prostrate. Kings, lords, and commons, are but the sport of his fury. Were he a member of this house, what might not be expected from his knowledge, his firmness, and integrity! He would be easily known by his contempt of all danger, by his penetration, by his vigor. Nothing would escape his vigilance and activity; bad ministers could conceal nothing from his sagacity; nor could promises or threats induce him to conceal any thing from the public.

LXXXI. SPEECH OF KING HENRY V. TO HIS SOLDIERS, BEFORE THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT.

Extract from Shakspeare. King Henry V.-Act 4-Scene 3.

Ir we are mark'd to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.

I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Rather proclaim it now through all my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart: his passport shall be made,
And crowns, for convoy, put into his purse :
We would not die in that man's company,
That fears his fellowship to die with us.

This day is call'd-the feast of Crispian.*

He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil* feast his friends,
And say-to-morrow is Saint Crispian :

Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars,
And say, those wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages,†
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words,
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,-
Be, in their flowing cups freshly remember'd;
This story shall the good man teach his son ;
And Crispin Crispians shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we, in it, shall be remembered ;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition :||
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

* The vigil, the evening preceding this festival.

+ With advantages, i. e. extolling or magnifying the exploits of this

day.

+ Familiar in their mouths, in the mouths of the old men.

§ See note on preceding page.

|| Gentle his condition, advance him to the rank of a gentleman.

Johnson.

LXXXII.-THE TRUE OBJECT OF ERECTING NATIONAL MONU.

MENTS.

Extract from Daniel Webster's Address, delivered at the laying of the Corner Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, June 17th, 1825.

LET it not be supposed, fellow citizens, that, in erecting a monument upon the revolutionary battle-ground, the heights of Bunker, our object is to perpetuate national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit of national independence, and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it for ever. We rear a memorial of our conviction of that unmeasured benefit which has been conferred on our own land, and of the happy influences, which have been produced, by the same events on the general interests of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot, which must for ever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish, that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may behold, that the place is not undistinguished, where the first great battle of the revolution was fought. We wish that this structure may proclaim the magnitude and importance of that event to every class and every age. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection from maternal lips, and that weary and withered age may behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. We wish that labor may look up here, and be proud, in the midst of its toil. We wish that, in those days of disaster, which, as they come on all nations, must be expected to come on us also, desponding patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured that the foundations of our national power still stand strong. We wish that this column, rising towards heaven, among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit.