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the charms of his polished elocution,-it is well enough for me, sitting in this house, to enjoy the scene; but it gives me most gloomy tidings to convey to my constituents in the lobby. For these reasons, sir, I wish, previously to our entering into this war, to be told what event it is that will put an end to it.



Almighty and most merciful Father, we have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our

own hearts. We have offended against thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; and we have done those things I which we ought not to have done and there is no health in us. But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders.

Spare thou those, O God,

who confess their faults. Restore thou those who are penitent; according to thy promises declared unto mankind, in Christ Jesus our Lord. And grant, Q most merciful Father, for his sake, that we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life, to the glory of thy holy name. Amen.


GERTRUDE.-Mrs. Hemans.

The Baron Von der Wart, accused, though it is believed unjustly, as an accomplice in the assassination of the Emperor Albert, was bound alive on the wheel, and attended by his wife Gertrude, throughout his last agonizing moments, with the most heroic fidelity. Her own sufferings, and those of her unfortunate husband, are most affectingly described in a letter, which she afterwards addressed to a female friend, and which was published some years ago at Haarlem, in a book entitled Gertrude Von der Wart, or Fidelity unto Death.'

Her hands were clasped, her dark eyes raised,

The breeze threw back her hair;

Up to the fearful wheel she gazed,

All that she loved was there.

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The night was round her clear and cold,
The holy heaven above;

Its pale stars watching to behold
The night of earthly love.

'And bid me not depart,' she cried,
'My Rudolph! say not so!
This is no time to quit thy side:
Peace, peace! I cannot go.

Hath the world aught for me to fear,

When death is on thy brow?

The world! what means it ?-mine is here--
I will not leave thee now!

'I have been with thee in thine hour
Of glory and of bliss ;

Doubt not its memory 's living power
To strengthen me through this!

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And thou, mine honored love and true,

Bear on, bear nobly on!

We have the blessed Heaven in view,
Whose rest shall soon be won.'

And were not these high words to flow
From woman's breaking heart?
-Through all that night of bitterest wo
She bore her lofty part:
But oh! with such a freezing eye,

With such a curdling cheek—
-Love, love! of mortal agony,

Thou, only thou, shouldst speak!

The winds rose high-but with them rose Her voice, that he might hear;Perchance that dark hour brought repose

To happy bosoms near

While she sat striving with despair
Beside his tortured form,

And pouring her deep soul in prayer
Forth on the rushing storm.

She wiped the death damps from his brow,
With her pale hands and soft,

Whose touch upon the lute chords low,
Had stilled his heart so oft.

She spread her mantle o'er his breast,
She bathed his lips with dew,
And on his cheek such kisses pressed,
As Joy and Hope ne'er knew.

Oh! lovely are ye, Love and Faith,
Enduring to the last!

She had her meed-one smile in Death

And his worn spirit passed.

While even as o'er a martyr's grave,

She knelt on that sad spot,
And, weeping, blessed the God who gave
Strength to forsake it not !




Meanwhile the adversary of God and man,
Satan, with thoughts inflamed of highest design,
Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of Hell
Explores his solitary flight; sometimes

He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left;
Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars
Up to the fiery concave towering high.

As when far off at sea a fleet descried
Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds
Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles
Or Tennate and Tidore, whence merchants bring
Their spicy drugs; they, on the trading flood,
Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape,
Ply stemming nightly toward the pole so seemed
Far off the flying fiend.

At last appear

Hell bounds, high reaching to the horrid roof,

And thrice three fold the gates: three folds were brass,

Three iron, three of adamantine rock
Impenetrable, impaled with circling fire,
Yet unconsumed. Before the gates there sat
On either side a formidable shape;

The one seemed woman to the waist, and fair,
But ended foul in many a scaly fold
Voluminous and vast, a serpent, armed

With mortal sting; about her middle round

A cry of hell-hounds, never ceasing, barked With wide Cerberean mouths full loud, and rung A hideous peal!

Far less abhorred than these Vexed Scylla, bathing in the sea that parts Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore: Nor uglier follow the night hag, when, called In secret, riding through the air she comes, Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance With Lapland witches, while the laboring moon Eclipses at their charms.

The other shape,

If shape it might be called that shape had none
Distinguishable in member, joint or limb;
Or substance might be called that shadow seemed:
For each seemed either; black it stood as night,
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as Hell,

And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.

Satan was now at hand; and from his seat The monster moving, onward came as fast With horrid strides; Hell trembled as he strode.

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