by my decrees and my measures. All these things, Athenians-if any one chooses to examine the matter without prejudice he will find both correctly advised by me, and executed with perfect integrity: and that no opportunity was lost by me, through carelessness, or through ignorance, or through treachery; nor anything neglected which it could fall within the power and the wisdom of one man to do.

But if the favor of some deity, or of fortune, or the remissness of commanders, or the wickedness of traitors -like you, Æschines-in different states, or if all these causes together, have embarrassed our whole affairs, and brought them to ruin-wherein has Demosthenes been to blame? But if there had been found in any Greek state one man such as I have been in my sphere among you rather-if Thessaly had only possessed a single man, and if Arcadia had possessed any one of the same principles with me-none of all the Greeks, whether within Thermopyla or without, would have been suffering their present miseries; but all remaining free and independent, and secure from alarm, would in perfect tranquillity and prosperity have dwelt in their native land, rendering thanks to you and the rest of the Athenian people for so many and such signal blessings conferred on them through me.

PERORATION OF THE ORATION ON THE CROWN.

Two qualities, men of Athens, every citizen of ordinary worth ought to possess: He should both maintain in office the purpose of a firm mind and the course suited to his country's pre-eminence; and on all occasions, and in all his actions, the spirit of patriotism. This belongs to our nature; victory and might are under the dominion of another power.

These dispositions you will find to have been absolutely inherent in me. For observe neither when my head was demanded, nor when they dragged me before the Amphictyons, nor when they threatened, nor when they promised, nor when they let loose on me these wretches like wild beasts, did I ever abate in any particular my affection for you. This straightforward and

honest path of policy, from the very first, I chose the honor, the power, the glory of my country to promote -these to augment-in these to have my being. Never was I seen going about the streets elated and exulting when the enemy was victorious; stretching out my hand, and congratulating such as I thought would tell it elsewhere, but hearing with alarm any success of our own armies, moaning and bent to the earth, like those impious men who rail at this country, as if they could do so without also stigmatizing themselves; and who, turning their eyes abroad, and seeing the prosperity of the enemy in the calamities of Greece, rejoice in them, and maintain that we should labor to make them last forever.

Let not, O gracious God-let not such conduct receive any manner of sanction from thee! Rather plant even in these men a better spirit and better feelings! But if they are wholly incurable, then pursue themyea, themselves by themselves-to utter and untimely perdition by land and by sea; and to us who are spared, vouchsafe to grant the speediest rescue from our impending alarms and an unshaken security.

DENHAM, SIR JOHN, an English poet, born at Dublin in 1615; died at London in 1668. His father was Chief Baron of the Exchequer in Ireland. Denham was educated at Oxford, and intended to practise law, but his uncontrollable passion for gambling made him unsuccessful. During the civil war he was actively engaged on the Royalist side. After the triumph of the Parliament, his estates were confiscated by the victorious party; but he recovered them upon the restoration of Charles II., by whom he was made a Knight of the Bath, and surveyor of the royal buildings. Denham's place in literature rests mainly upon his descriptive poem Cooper's Hill, published in 1642, of which Dryden said, "For majesty of the style it is, and will ever be, the exact standard of good writing." Denham wrote a tragedy entitled The Sophy, which had a temporary success upon the stage, and An Elegy on Mr. Abraham Cowley. Denham commanded the admiration and esteem of all of his contemporaries. Waller says: "He broke out like the Irish rebellion, three-score thousand strong, when nobody was aware of or in the least suspected it." Dr. Johnson says: "Denham is deservedly considered one of the fathers of English poetry." He was buried in Westminster Abbey.

DESCRIPTION OF THE RIVER THAMES.

My eye, descending from the hill, surveys
Where Thames, among the wanton valleys strays;
Thames, the most loved of all the Ocean's sons
By his old sire, to his embraces runs,
Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
Like mortal life to meet eternity.

Though with those streams he no remembrance hold,
Whose foam is amber and their gravel gold,
His genuine and less guilty wealth to explore,
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore,
O'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing,
And hatches plenty for th' ensuing spring,
And then destroys it with too fond a stay,
Like mothers which their infants overlay ;
Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave,

Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave.
No unexpected inundations spoil

The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's toil,
But Godlike his unwearied bounty flows;

First loves to do, then loves the good he does.
Nor are his blessings to his banks confined,
But free and common, as the sea or wind.
When he to boast or to disperse his stores,
Full of the tributes of his grateful shores,
Visits the world, and in his flying tours
Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours:
Finds wealth where 'tis, bestows it where it wants
Cities in deserts, woods in cities plants;

So that to us no thing, no place is strange,
While his fair bosom is the world's Exchange.

Oh! could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
My great example, as it is my theme!

Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
Strong without rage; without o'erflowing, full.
-Cooper's Hill.

ELEGY UPON COWLEY.

Old Chaucer, like the morning star,
To us discovers day from far.

His light those mists and clouds dissolved
Which our dark nation long involved;
But he, descending to the shades,
Darkness again the age invades ;
Next (like Aurora) Spenser rose,
Whose purple blush the day foreshows;
The other three with his own fires
Phoebus, the poet's god, inspires:

By Shakespeare's, Jonson's, Fletcher's lines,
Our stage's lustre Rome's outshines.
These poets, near our princes sleep,
And in one grave their mansion keep.
They lived to see so many days,
Till time had blasted all their bays;
But cursed be the fatal hour

That plucked the fairest, sweetest flower
That in the Muses' garden grew,

And amongst withered laurels threw.
Time, which made them their fame outlive,
To Cowley scarce did ripeness give.
Old mother-wit and nature gave
Shakespeare and Fletcher all they have:
In Spenser and in Jonson, art

Of slower nature got the start;

But both in him so equal are,

None knows which bears the happiest share.

To him no author was unknown,

Yet what he wrote was all his own;

He melted not the ancient gold,

Nor, with Ben Jonson, did make bold
To plunder all the Roman stores
Of poets and of orators:

Horace his wit and Virgil's state

He did not steal, but emulate;

And when he would like them appear,

Their garb, but not their clothes, did wear:

He not from Rome alone, but Greece,

VOL. VIII.-4