On us hangs all their safety. Night and day
My anxious thoughts are lab'ring in their cause;
And whilst Christ walks the earth, I take no rest;
A watchful spy forever at his side,

Noting each word and deed; sometimes I mix
With the selected Twelve that page his steps;
Of these, though some have waver'd, none is false
Save one alone, Iscariot he by name;

The taint of avarice hath touch'd his heart;
I've mark'd him for my own. Hear, princes, hear!
This night the priests and elders will convene
Their secret conclave: I am in their hearts.
Burning with envy, malice, and revenge,
Their only thought is how to tangle Christ,
In whom of force I own no guile is found,
But gentleness instead, and perfect truth;
A lamb in nature without spot and pure;
Fit victim therefore for their Paschal rites,
Which now are near at hand: apt is the hour,
Apt are the instruments. What now remains
But to send forth a tempter to persuade
Iscariot to betray his Master's life,

And damn himself for gold? Speak, is there one,
One in this patriot circle, whom all eyes
Point out this emprise? Most sure there is;
Belial hath well predicted of our choice:

Mammon, stand forth! on thee the election lights. Mammon. Prince of this world! to whom these armies owe,

(Lost but for thee in everlasting night)
The glorious prospect of yon rising sun,
'Tis not t'evade the labor, but prevent
The failure of your hopes, that I beseech
Your wisdom to correct its choice, and lodge
This arduous embassy in abler hands:
Nathless, if such your will, and my compeers
Adjudge me to this service, I submit.
In me is no repugnance, no delay;

For ever what these toiling hands could do,

Or patient thoughts devise, that I have done;
Whether in heav'n ordain'd to undermine
God's adamantine throne, or doom'd to dig
The solid sulphur of hell's burning soil,
Fearless I wrought, and were there no tongues else
To vouch my services, these scars would speak.
How many daintier spirits do I see

Fair as in heav'n and in fresh bloom of youth,
Whilst I, with shriveli'd sinews, cramp'd and scorch'd,
'Midst pestilential damps and fiery blasts, -
Drag as you see, a miserable load,

Age-struck without the last resource of death:
This for myself: no more. You're not to learn
The snares which I employ are golden snares;
These are my arts; and like the crafty slave,
Who in Rome's circus hurls the fatal net
Over his fierce pursuer, so oft times

Have I entangled the proud hearts of men,
And made their courage stoop to shameful bribes,
Paid for dishonest deeds, perjuries and plots,
That draw them off from God, who else had fill'd
His courts ere now with guests, and peopled heav'n.
These weapons and these hands you still command;
So dear I hold the general cause a heart,
So disciplin'd am I in duty's school,
That reckless of all hazard I present
Myself your servant, or, if so fate wills,
Your sacrifice: for though from mortal man
Discomfiture I dread not; yet if Christ,

Whom the great tempter foil'd not, shall stand forth
The champion of his followers, witness for me,
You, my brave peers, and this angelic host,
I sought not this bold height, whence, if I fall,
I do but fall where Satan could not stand.
Satan. Go then;

Go, brave adventurer, go where glory calls:
Auspicious thoughts engender in my breast,
And now prophetic visions burst upon me:
I see the traitor Judas with a band

Of midnight ruffians seize his peaceful Lord:
They drag him to the bar, accuse, condemn;
He bleeds, he dies! Darkness involves the rest.
Ascend the air, brave spirit, and midst the shout
Of grateful myriads wing thy course to fame.

EXTRACT FROM MR. PITT'S SPEECH IN THE BRIT ISH PARLIAMENT, MAY 13, 1777.

T

My Lords,

HIS is a flying moment; perhaps but six weeks left to arrest the dangers that surround us. It is difficult for government, after all that has passed, to shake hands with defiers of the king, defiers of the parliament, defiers of the people. I am a defier of nobody; but if an end is not put to this war, there is an end to this kingdom. I do not trust my judgment in my present state of health; this is the judgment of my better days; the result of forty years' attention to America. They are rebels! but what are they rebels for? Surely not for defending their unquestionable rights! What have these rebels done heretofore! I remember when they raised four regiments on their own bottom, and took Louisbourg from the veteran troops of France.

But their excesses have been great! I do not mean their panegyric; but must observe, in extenuation, the erroneous and infatuated counsels, which have prevailed. The door to mercy and justice has been shut against them. But they may still be taken up upon the grounds of their former submission. I state to you. the importance of America; it is a double market; a market of consumption, and a market of supply. This double market for millions with naval stores, you are giving to your hereditary rival.

America has carried you through four wars, and will now carry you to your death, if you do not take things in time. In the sportsman's phrase, when you

have found yourselves at fault, you must try back. You have ransacked every corner of lower Saxony; but forty thousand German boors never can conquer ten times the number of British freemen. They may ravage; they cannot conquer. But you would conquer, you say! Why, what would you conquer? the map of America? I am ready to meet any general officer on the subject.

What will you do out of the protection of your fleet? In the winter, if together, they are starved; and if dispersed, they are taken off in detail. I am experienced in spring hopes and vernal promises. I know what ministers throw out; but at last will come your equinoctial disappointment. They tell you-what? That your army will be as strong as it was last year, when it was not strong enough. You have gained nothing in America but stations. You have been three years teaching them the art of war. They are apt scholars; and I will venture to tell your lordships, that the American gentry will make officers enough, fit to command the troops of all the European powers. What you have sent there, are too many to make peace, too few to make war.

If you conquer them, what then? You cannot make them respect you; you cannot make them wear your cloth. You will plant an invincible hatred in their breasts against you. Coming from the stock they do, they can never respect you. If ministers are founded in saying there is no sort of treaty with France, there is still a moment left; the point of honor is still safe. France must be as self-destroying as England, to `make a treaty while you are giving her America, at the expense of twelve millions a year. The intercourse has produced every thing to France; and England, poor old England must pay for all.

I have at different times made different propositions, adapted to the circumstances in which they were offered. The plan contained in the former bill is now impracticable; the present motion will tell you where

you are, and what you have now to depend upon. It may produce a respectable division in America, and unanimity at home. It will give America an option: she has yet made no option. You have said, Lay down your arms, and she has given you the Spartan answer, "Come and take them."

I will get out of my bed, on Monday, to move for an immediate redress of all their greivances, and for continuing to them the right of disposing of their own property. This will be the herald of peace; this will open the way for treaty; this will show that parliament is sincerely disposed. Yet still much must be left to treaty. Should you conquer this people; you conquer under the cannon of France; under a masked battery then ready to open. The moment a treaty with France appears, you must declare war, though you had only five ships of the line in England: but France will defer a treaty as long possible.

You are now at the mercy of every little German chancery; and the pretensions of France will increase daily, so as to become an avowed party in either peace or war. We have tried for unconditional submission; let us try what can be gained by unconditional redress. Less dignity will be lost in the repeal, than in submitting to the demands of German chanceries. We are the aggressors. We have invaded them. We have invaded them as much as the Spanish armada invaded England. Mercy cannot do harm; it will seat the king where he ought to be, throned on the hearts of the people; and millions at home and abroad, now employed in obloquy or revolt, would then pray for him.