Whose grandeur, yet contending with decay, Gleams through the twilight of thy glorious day; Though dimmed thy brightness, riveted thy chain, Yet, fallen Italy! rejoice again! ·

2. Awake, ye Muses of Etrurian' shades, Or sacred Tivoli's' romantic glades;

Wake, ye that slumber in the bowery gloom, Where the wild ivy shadows Virgil's3 tomb; If yet by classic streams ye fondly rove, Haunting the myrtle vale, the laurel grove; Oh! rouse once more the daring soul of song, Seize with bold hand the harp, forgot so long, And hail, with wonted pride, those works revered, Hallowed by time, by absence more endeared. 3. Ye, at whose voice fair Art, with eagle glance, Burst in full splendor from her death-like trance; Whose rallying call bade slumbering nations wake, And daring Intellect his bondage break;

Beneath whose the lords of song arose,

eye

And snatched the Tuscan' lyre from long repose,
And bade its pealing energies resound,

With power electric, through the realms around;
O, high in thought, magnificent in soul!
Born to inspire, enlighten, and control!

O, rise and view your glorious reign once more,
The shrine where nations mingle to adore!

4. There thou,* fair offspring of immortal Mind!
Love's radiant goddess, idol of mankind!
Once the bright object of Devotion's vow,
Shalt claim from taste a kindred homage now.
Oh! who can tell what beams of heavenly light,
Flashed o'er the sculptor's intellectual sight,
How many a glimpse, revealed to him alone,
Made brighter beings, nobler worlds, his own;

Reference is here had to Sculpture.

Ere, like some vision sent the earth to bless,
Burst into life thy pomp of loveliness!

5. Young Genius there, while dwells his kindling eye
On forms, instinct with bright divinity,—
While new-born powers, dilating in his heart,
Embrace the full magnificence of Art;

From scenes, by Raphael's* gifted hand arrayed,
From dreams of heaven, by Angelo portrayed;
From each fair work of Grecian skill sublime,
Sealed with perfection, "sanctified by time;"
Shall catch a kindred glow, and proudly feel
His spirit burn with emulative zeal;
Buoyant with loftier hopes, his soul shall rise,
Imbued at once with nobler energies;
O'er life's dim scenes on rapid pinions soar,
And worlds of visionary grace explore;
Till his bold hand give glory's day-dream birth,
And with new wonders charm admiring earth.

6. Venice, exult! and o'er thy moonlight seas,
Swell with gay strains each Adriatic breeze!
What though long fled those years of martial fame,
That shed romantic luster o'er thy name;
Though quenched the spirit of thine ancient race,
And power and freedom scarce have left a trace;
Yet still shall Art her splendors round thee cast,
And gild the wreck of years forever past.

7. And thou, whose Eagle's towering plume unfurled,
Once cast its shadow o'er a vassal world,
Eternal city round whose curule throne,
The lords of nations knelt in ages flown;
Thou, whose Augustan‡ years have left to time
Immortal records of their glorious prime;
When deathless bards, thine olive-shades among,
Swelled the high raptures of heroic song;

* Consult Note 1, p. 105.

† Rome.

See Note 5, p. 106.

Fair, fallen Empress! raise thy languid head.
From the cold altars of th' illustrious dead,
And once again, with fond delight, survey,

The proud memorials of thy noblest day.

8. Lo! where thy sons, O Rome! a godlike train,
In imaged majesty return again!

Bards, chieftains, monarchs, tower with mien august,
O'er scenes that shrine their venerable dust;
Those forms, those features, luminous with soul,
Still o'er thy children seem to claim control;
With awful grate arrest the pilgrim's glance,
Bind his rapt soul in elevating trance,
And bid the past, to fancy's ardent eyes,
From time's dim sepulcher in glory rise.

9. Souls of the lofty! whose undying names,

Rouse the young bosom still to noblest aims;
Oh! with your images could fate restore
Your own high spirits to your sons once more;
Patriots and heroes! could those flames return,
That bade your hearts with freedom's ardor burn,
Then from the sacred ashes of the first,
Might a new Rome in Phenix grandeur burst!
With one bright glance dispel th' horizon's gloom.
With one loud call, wake empire from the tomb;
Bind round her brows her own triumphal crown,
Lift her dread Ægis with majestic frown,
Unchain her eagle's wing, and guide his flight,
To bathe his plumage in the fount of light.

LESSON LXVI.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.-1. RED JACKET was a famous Indian chief of the Seneca nation, who lived near Buffalo. He was distinguished for his extraordinary eloquence. At one time he was hostile to the interests of the Americans, but afterward became warmly attached to them.

2. TECUMSEH was a Shawanee chief, distinguished for his vivid and powerful eloquence, and his constant and bitter enmity toward the whites,

actuated by disinterested patriotism in behalf of his own country and people. He was successful in forming, to a great extent, a union of all the Western Indians against the Americans, and in the war of 1812 he proved a formidable ally of the British, against the Americans. He was exemplary through life in his habits of temperance and adherence to truth. He was killed in the decisive battle of the Moravian towns.

3. CALUMET is the Indian pipe of peace. On all occasions when Indian chiefs or warriors meet in peace, or at the close of a war, or in their talks and treaties, the calumet is handed round, and each one smokes a few whiffs. To accept it, is to agree to terms proposed; to refuse it, is to reject them.

INDIAN ELOQUENCE.

1. A FEW Suns more, and the Indian will live only in history. A few centuries, and that history will be colored with the mellow romantic light, in which time robes the past, and contrasted with the then present wealth and splendor of America, may seem so impossible, as to elicit from the historian a philosophic doubt of its authenticity. The period may arrrive when the same uncertainty which hangs over the heroic days of every people, may attend its records, and the stirring deeds of the battle-field and council-fire, may be regarded as attractive fictions,-at the best, as beautiful exaggerations.

2. As an engrossing subject to an American, as coming to us the only relic of the literature of the Aborigines, and the most perfect emblem of their character, their glory, and their intellect, we should dearly cherish the remains of their oratory. In these we see developed the motives which animated their actions, and the light and shadows of their very soul. The iron incasement of apparent apathy, in which the savage had fortified himself, impenetrable at ordinary moments, is laid aside in the council-room. The genius of eloquence bursts the arbitrary bands of custom, and the Indian stands forth accessible, natural, and legible.. We commune with him, listen to his complaints, understand, appreciate, and even feel his injuries.

3. As Indian Eloquence is the key to their character, so is it a noble monument of their literature. Oratory seldom finds a more auspicious field. A wild people, with an ample region for thought, forbade feebleness,-uncultivated, but intelligent

and sensitive, a purity of idea, chastely combined with energy of expression, a ready fluency, and imagery,—now exquisitely delicate, now soaring to the sublime,-all united to rival the efforts of any ancient or modern orator.

4. What can be imagined more impressive, than a warrior rising in the council-room to address those who bore the same scarred marks of their title to fame and the chieftainship? The dignified stature, the easy repose of limbs, the graceful gesture, the dark speaking eye, excite equal admiration and expectation. We would anticipate eloquence from an Indian. He has animating remembrances,-a poverty of language, which exacts rich and apposite metaphorical allusions, even for ordinary conversation,-a mind which, like his body, has never been trammeled and mechanized by the formalities of society,and passions which, from the very outward restraint imposed upon them, burn, more fiercely within. There is a mine of truth in the reply of RED JACKET,' when called a warrior ;—“ A wárrior!” said he; "I am an orator-I was born an orator."

5. There are not many speeches remaining on record, but even in this small number there is such a rich and varied vein of all the characteristics of true eloquence, that we rise from their perusal with regret that so few have been preserved. Nowhere can be found a poetic thought, clothed in more captivating simplicity of expression, than in the answer of TECUMSEH2 to GOVERNOR HARRISON, in the conference at Vincennes. It contains a high moral rebuke, and a sarcasm, hightened in effect by an evident consciousness of loftiness above the reach of insult.

6. At the close of his address, he found that no chair had been placed for him,-a neglect which Governor Harrison ordered to be remedied as soon as discovered. Suspecting, perhaps, that it was more an affront than a mistake, with an air of dignity, elevated almost to haughtiness, he declined the seat, proffered with the words, "Your father requests you to take a chair," and answered, as he calmly disposed himself on the ground: "My father! The sun is my father, and the earth is my mother. I WILL REPOSE ON HER BOSOM."