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formed into worlds by his power, I and dispersed at intervals, | to which even the imagination cannot travel. In this great theatre of his glory, I a thousand suns, like our own, i animate their respective sys.tems, | appearing, and vanishing at Divine command. We behold our own bright luminary, i fixed in the centre of its system, / wheeling its planets in times proportioned to their distances, and ai once dispensing light, heat, and action. | The earth also is seen with its twofold mo tion; I producing by the one, the change of sea sons; and, by the other, the grateful vicissitudes of day, and night. | With what silent magnificence is all this performed, ! | with what seeming ease! | The works of art are exerted with interrupted force; | and their noisy progress discovers the obstructions they receive. ; ! but the earth, with a silent, steady rotation, successively presents every part of its bosom to the sun'; ; at once imbibing nourishment, and light from that parent of vegetation, and fertility. |

But not only provisions of heat, and light are thus supplied ; l the whole surface of the earth is covered with a transparent atmosphere that turns with its motion, I and guards it from external injury. | The rays of the sun are thus broken into a genial warmth'; } and, while the surface is assisted, I a gentle heat is produced in the bowels of the earth, / which contributes to cover it with verdure. | Waters also are supplied in healthful abundance, I to support life, and assist vegetation. | Mountains rise to diversify the prospect, and give a current to the stream. | Seas extend from one continent to the other, replenished with animals that may be turned to human support'; and also serving to enrich the earth with a sufliciency of vapour. : Breezes fly along the surface of the fields, I to promote health, and vegetation. | The coolness of the evening invites to rest'; and the freshness of the morning renews for labor. 1

Such are the delights of the habitation that has been assigned to man : / without any one of these, he must have been wretched; 1 and none of these could his own industry have supplied. | But while, on the one hand, many of his wants are thus kindly furnished, there are, on the other, numberless inconveniences to excite his industry. | This habitation, I though provided with all the conveniences of air, pasturage, and water, / is but a desert place, without human cultivation. The lowest an'imal finds more conveniences in the wilds of nature, I than he who boasts himself their lord. | The whirlwind, the inundation, and all the asperities of the air, are peculiarly terrible to man, who knows their consequences, I and, at a distance, dreads their approach. The earth itself, where human art has not pervaded, I puts on a frightful, gloomy appearance. | The forests are dark, and tangled ; ! the meadows are overgrown with rank weeds'; / and the brooks stray without a determined channel. | Nature, that has been kind to every lower order of beings, seems to have been neglectful with regard to him, : | to the savage uncontriving man,the earth is an abode of desola tion, where his shelter is insufficient, and his food precarious.

A world, thus furnished with advantages on one side, | and inconveniences on the other, is the proper abode of reason, and the fittest to exercise the industry | of a free, and a thinking creature. | These evils, which art can remedy. and prescience guard against, | are a proper call for the exertion of his faculties ; / and they tend still more to assimilate him to his Creator. I God beholds, with pleasure, I that being which he has made, converting the wretchedness of his natural situation into a theatre of triumph ; : bringing all the head. long tribes of nature i into subjection to his wills; I and producing that order, and uniformity upon earth, / of wnich his own heavenly fabric is so bright an ex. ample. I

• Prè'she-ens.


(ROBERTSON.) The secretary stood alone : ! modern degeneracy had not reached him. Original, and unaccommodating, the features of his character, had the bardihood of antiquity. | His august mind over-awed ma jesty; and one of his sovereigns | thought royalty so impaired in his presence, that he conspired to remove him in order to be relieved from his superiority. | No state chica nery," | no narrow system of vicious politics, no idle contest for ministerial vic'tories, sunk him to the vul. gar level of the great ; | but over-bearing, persuasive, and impracticable, I his object was England, his ambition was fame.

Without dividing, he destroyed party ; | without corrupting, he made a venal age unanimous. | France sunk beneath him. / With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon, / and wielded in the other, the democracy of England. The sight of his mind was in finite; I and his schemes were to affect, not England, not the present age only, but Europe, and posterity. | Wonderful were the means by which these schemes were accom plished — | always seasonable, I always adequate, | the suggestions of an understanding i animated by ardour, , and enlightened by prophecy. 1

The ordinary feelings which make life amiable, and indolent, I were unknown to him. | No domestic difficulties, i no domestic weakness reached him; / but, aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, I and unsul. lied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into our system, to counsel, and to decide.

A character so exalted, so strenuous, / so various, I 80 authoritative, astonished a corrupt age- and the treasury trembled at the name of Pilt through all her classes of venality. | Corruption imagined, indeed,

. Såv'er-ind. She-kå'når-re. • Untractable.


that she had found defects in this statesman, and talked much of the inconsistency of his glory, | and much of the ruin of his victories; | but the history of his country, I and the calamities of the enemy, i answered, and refuted her.

Nor were his political abilities his on'ly talents: his eloquence was an era in the senate, l peculiar, and sponta'neous, familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments, and instinctive wisdom; ( not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully; it resembled sometimes the thunder, I and sometimes the music of the spheres. | Like Murray, | he did not conduct the understanding through the painful subtlety of argumentation; nor was he, like 'Townshend, for ever on the rack of exertion ; / but rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point by the flashings of the mind', / which, like those of his eye, I were felt, but could not be followed.

Upon the whole, there was in this man something that would create', / subvert', / or reform'; / an understanding, I a spirit, / and an eloquence, i to summon mankind to society, / or to break the bonds of slavery asun der, something to rule the wilderness of free minds with unbounded authority; , something that could establish, 1 or overwhelm' empire, I and strike a blow in the world, that should resound through the universe.


SCENE — A Room in the Tower of London.

(Enter CLARENCE and BRACKENBURY.] Brack. Why looks your grace so heav'ily to-day?)

Clar. O I have pass'd a miserable nighti, So full of fearful dreams, I of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, i

I would not spend another such a night, |
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days': 1
So full of dismal terror was the time. I
Brack. What was your dream, my lord'? | I pray

you, tell me.
Clar. Methought that I had broken from the tow'er, !
And had embark'd to cross to Burgundy; |
And, in my company, my brother Gloster,
Who from my cabin, tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York, and Lancaster,
That had befallen us. | As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, |
Methought that Gloster stum bled, I and, in falling,
Struck me that thought to stay him, lo'ver-board
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
O methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears' ! |
What sights of ugly death within mine eves !
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks', 1
A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd' upon,
Wedges of gold', I great anchors, I heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones , ! unvalued jewels, |
All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea . !
'Some lay in dead men's skulls ; / 'and, in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, ! there were crept,
(As 't were in scorn of eyes) / reflecting gems' |
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, !
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.

Brack. Had you such leisure in the time of death, To gaze upon these secrets of the deep'? |

Clar. Methought I had ; and often did I strive
To vield the ghost'; ' but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air,
But smother'd it within my panting bulk, I
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. :

• Mine ears; not mine-nears. . Mine eyes; not inine-nize.

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