I PS 2197 .K5 AN Copy 1 ESSAY ON THE OKATION, TOGETHER WITH OCTAVIA'S PRAYER, AND OTHER CHOICE POEMS. BY LEOPOLD M. KOHN. PHILADELPHIA : LEOPOLD M. KOHN, 207 SOUTH NINTH STREBT. AN ESSAY ON THE OBATION, TOGETHER WITH OCTAVIA'S PRAYER, AND OTHER CHOICE POEMS. BY LEOPOLD M. KOHN. JUL 2'j iafc6^ / »P^ WASHU)'- PHILADELPHIA : LEOPOLD M. KOHN, 207 SOUTH NINTH STREET. 1886. .K5 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1886, BY LEOPOLD M. KOHN, In the Ofiace of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. I TO THE INTELLIGENT PUBLIC. I take sincere pleasure in offering tliis little book to you for your consideration and judgment. It is made up of strictly original poems and blank verses, some of which, as you may know, have already appeared in print, while others have been changed and improved and new ones added, the whole now going to make up the contents of tlie little book to hand. Owing to its variety of blank verses, I am a little sensitive as to whether it will receive such proper appreciation as was anticipated for it at the outset. If I made use of blank verse at all, it was not because I wanted to differ from other writers in this respect, but because I was constraiaed to do so more from sheer force of circumstances than for any other reason. Tlie English language is deticient in rhyme, and such as may have occasion to harbor a deep thought with an eager, facile pen cannot afford to waste their time looking up a rhyme, or be hampered by what is still worse — a given space of mean dimensions — but must liurry on regardless of everything, being only content to have dignity and harmony place of rhyme. Of course, this applies to deep thought only. Humor, with a moral; dramatic, patriotic, pathetic, spiritual, philosophic, imaginative, narrative — in fact, some- thing for everybody, for the elocutionist, for the spiritual, for the humane, for the human. The essay at the end of the book, drawing a line of de- marcation between poetry, rhetoric and the oration on the one hand, and the disquisition and logic on the other, con- tains a few hints for public speakers and writers I hope worthy consideration. ■■'^^ OCTAVIA'S PKAYER. Time— Directly after the defeat of Brutus and Cassius at Philippi bj' Marc Antony and Octavius Caesar, with the Roman forces. It was an August day — near even time. The sun was great and red, and so sublime Appeared the purple, gray, and streaks of gold, That men looked up, Heaven's grandeur to behold. Just then a courier entered his native gates, Shot past the Forum, through the narrow streets, Up to Octavia's desolate abode. A cavalcade of cits behind him rode— - A wounded gladiator, with drooping head — The mob whom Antonj^'s sly vengeance fed ; A Senator, with hoary head and bowed, Down from the Forum thus addrest the crowd : "Friends, Komans, Countrymen:— At Philippi, Both Brutus and the wretched Cassius lie ; That is, their bodies lie upon the field. And so conspiracy's fate is once more sealed. Octavius Coesar will to-night appear Before you in the Forum to make clear All things—why Silver-tongued Cicero Was doomed to death, with reasons plain to show 'Twas well. Marc Antony, the gossips say. Is booked for Egypt at an early day. Go home, good men, and spread abroad the news, And let its virtue every heart enthuse. Yet on the streets refuse to congregate, But go right home, and shut off all debate." On that mid-night, by her taper, Sat Octavia in her bovver, Heading, thinking o'er the paper Brought her in an evil hour : " Left his friends, familiar faces, Blessings, glories, all behind ; And the many vivid traces Bearing record in my mind. " Now, ye gods, that proved so loving- Loving in the days of old ; Always Vv^ith the righteous moving. Adding goodness manifold— "On my knees, I put a query To ye, gods, that ruled the past : Do ye hearken to the weary. Clinging faithful to the last ? " Kneeling faithful here before ye, Condescend an ear to lend ! Oh, ye gods, I pray ye hear me— Life is ebbing to its end. Like the Druid,* living lowly In the forest antl the cave, I love Nature — Nature solely ! Do not, then, a hearing waive. Roman, head is ; Druid, heart is ; Yet no cave could be my home ! All the world to her pays tribute ! See how proud I am of Rome ! "Be all loving to my dearest; He hath left me lonely here ; When in danger, be ye nearest — As the Druids ye were near. " Let no Cleopatra's beauty Keep Marc Antony from his Rome Poor Octavia did her duty ; Lead him, gods, I beg you, home ! "Now, ye gods, my query ended, Hear him, if he faintly call, Hanging from a w^eb suspended ; Lift him up, if down he fall." * This may appear at first an anachronism. But when it is remembered that Julius Caesar conquered the country of the Druids and gave an histo- rical account of the people B. C. 100 ; and when it is further remembered that Octavia, sister of Octavius Caesar and closely related to Julius Caesar, was an educated woman, of a patrician family, and acquainted with the toj)ics of the day, it will tend to disprove all anachronism. TO THE PAST. O Ancient Land of Cultiiie and of Lore ! Ancient Greece, tliou Land of Genins And Poesy ! bending at tliy l I can see up in the skies. See them playing peek-a-boo, Like our blue-eyed children do. INNER THOUGHTS. I wonder wliat the world would do, If all tlio good had fled ; I wonder if it wouldn't think Far hetter it were dead. I wouder what its ingrates would, And what the false would say, If God should liarden human hearts, And take their good awa}'. Among the worldly many he Who care, nor think, uor heed ; They push and move and marcli along, Nor pause — except in need. Then find some soul to interpose ; To lend a helping hand ; But spurns for thanks is all he gets. Since thanks are in demaud. Man's tongue oft bends a certain way. His heart oft beats another ; No Charity between the two, How can they love each other? Sweet Charity is Love joined hands With Tongue and Heart and Light ; She rideth on the Morning wind, And putteth Dark to flight. 10 A fileiid in need is friend indeed," A lesson for tlie heart ; For noble deeds can never die, Nor kindly words depart. At this, the shrine of all the shrines, Let souls kneel down and pra}- ; And hei-e commune with Light of Lights, The Light that lit the day. ••O-^O*' HUMANE. In the ocean there is grandeur When its maddest surges I'oar, Mingling spray and foam — commotion — Wrangling with the peaceful shore — Grandeur of Divine devotion — 'Tis a part of very ocean. There is grandeur in the rain-drop, In the summer noon-day beam, Shining forth in rays of glory. Such as haunt a faii-y's dream : And this grandeur, fading never, Liveth on and shines forever. In the zenith of our being Is this beauty plainest seen. Like a twinkling little orb-light, Shining out from 'neatli its screen j And a kind word — falt'iing, broken — Of sucli beauty is a token. li PROGRESSION. Ye ask nie if progressing ig the world ? Well, y^e-s. But, tlien, metliinks not over nuuh, Progression is Progression, and, if true, Steals onwai-d, upward, asking pause nor re?.t. Progression fails where prejudice is rife ! Where Bigotry and Malice lift their heads ! Where Hatred feeds upon the dead, dead Past-^ 'rije i)Utrid cai'casses of ages gone ! And mostly wliere man-made theology Incessant wars against religion felt. Wherever Ignorance lives and teaches sciiool, You there will find his children — as a rule. America! Home of Progressive Thouglit; Civilization and of Libei't}^ INIust not let Ignorance hold her reins too long 1 Her common schools have given her wise men, These, freed from all sectarian bigotry, Like pillars, now support a mighty uation. Let England — prosperous little England^aye And France— ^the stanchest friends Progression hath- Stand up and tell the secret of success I Ye wondrous cables flash it to the world ! Ye free, unti-ammelled Press, oh give it forth ! Oh, keep it not aback ye \A''ondrous powers ! But let it live an axiom of the times : Wherever Darkness lives and teaclics school, You'll find the knave there oft'ner than the fooL 12 OLD LIBERTY BELL. Writteu ou its return from the World's Exposition, New Orleans, La., 18S5, Hail to the bell, ye men who dwell 111 Freedom's Land ! Hail to the Bell, Ye Freemen all ! Along the line, Ye proud hearts, hail with joy divine ! Y''e cherished sons of Liberty, True homage pay that ye are free 1 For Freedem's sake brave men arose ; 'Twas Freedom's friends beat back lier foes ; For her the fathers bled and died On fields of battle— side by side ? For them, her sons, lier shrine she reared— The Oracle Priestess Liberty. On many fields of strife tliey fought, And gave the world a newborn tliought ; And thou. Good Bell, didst ring it forth To East and West and South and North, Base tyrants trembled and grew pale. Truth loomed up fiercely to assail. With uncrowned heads — defiant, bold — Cropped forth from ruins, ages old, Democracies that fought down caste, And laughed to scorn the Unjust Past, More work of thine, O Liberty, And of thy precious, trophied Bell I 13 jNIu}' Southern friends begin to learn, Before they think to make retui-n, That Nortliern hearts are not as eold As many thought in clays of old, O Bell that tolled for Freedom's race ; And may the furrow in thy face, By Time's liand plowed, still broader grow— A chasm o'er which — for aught we know-= Tile frictions can sliake hands again, Moved on by thee, repentant men. ^J^ SUFFICIENCY. Thou Great Source ! Too much Thy occult works fol' man to know ! Thou Great Original! Tliee the Infidel calls his Great First Cause ! 1 call thee LoVe. 1 see Thee in the tiny blade of grass, And hear Thee in the playful wind, the ocean's awful moan. Hast Thou no history save Nature's obscure page to scan? Aye, who can solve Thy problem ? who loose thine entanglements ? Tliy depths, oh who can sound them, diving down for pearls of thought? And whence art Thou come? and whei'e is Thine alode? My lips are sealed. Sufficed am I to know that Thou art all there is of Love. 14 TO AN EAGLE. " Old Abe" is dead— " Old Abe," the Bird of Wan Let Love a garland lay on Old Abe's grave. His pinions, lifeless dust, no more distend j No more, as was their wont, in majesty Our peaks and crags and liighest mountains scale. The nation's heart feels heavy, sad, And beats for him its Sympathy, while tears Bedim the eyes of thousands of his friends ; Adown the furrows of the patriot's brov/ They furious course, and leave behind a warmth Expressive of the godliness of soul — An outward showing of the heart within. Ah, proud old bird I thy pride is stemmed by pride j The Nation's pride for thee transcends thine own. Aye, all thy friends, admirers, martial comrades, And all the countless eyes that saw thee perched Within those sacred walls of Liberty— The temporar}^ storehouse of the world— The great American Centennial — Have pride enough combined at least with thine To cope. Thy mutfled drum, oh, drummer, beat ^ And homage render to this feathered chief, Who, in the heat of fray, above the men, With loyal screechings, cheered and urged them on, While on the ensign-quarters perched. Few birds--^ Though finer plumed than thou couldst well afford, Outnuinb'iing tliee in feathers, as in hue, Of swifter flight, with stronger pinions blest, And, oliief of all, more lovel}^ to the eye, Could cope with thee for all. They lacked of parts. Here solemn at thy grave the soldier stands, And here and there, in groups, thy comrades weeping, Canst thou not see the doleful list'ner near? Canst thou not hear the falt'iing, stifled voice That eulogizes thee ? — the tender step ? Or breathe the fragrance of the place thou sleepst? Tkine eyes are closed fore'er. No martial strain To thrill thee now^ ; yet, once it was a wont! No drum and fife to bid thee rise a Phoenix, Inspired with life anew. A hero thou — A hero with a multitude of heroes. Who, scattered here and there, bedot the land. Civilization said : " These kindred spirits Laid down their life and so advanced the world." Then History, upon her sacred page, Inscribed each noble deed, and marked the place An ei)Och, near the Daw^n of Liberty. My prayer for thee, Bird of War, is this: Ma}^ peace eternal crown thy ashen home ! And when the furious March wind comes to lop The pines in younger days thou visitedst, 1 pray 'twill murmur by in sacredness, And leave these flowers on thy grave unscathed. TOM MOOKE. Wiirm-hearted Erin once brought fortli a bartl, Of all the Eiiglisli-si)eakino- world the pride ; More worthy he to be her son and charge Tiian such as erred, because more loyal, true And noble in the eyes of Nature's God. At Xatui'e's shrine he worshiped, day by day; A child of light, his soul was lilled wit!i light, And from his heart there stole such gentle rays Of beaat}' and of truth t'.iat men bciield in wonderment, and, wond'ring, nearer di'ew. God meant that thou shouldst be a shining liglit. And set thee on a hill to shine at nioht. •o-^o. xMen come — just stay awhile — and then move on ; But Foets are tiie bees of earthly life ; Tlie}^ sij) the honey from tlie trembling llower, And, humming out tlieir lay, they, too, speed on. So thou, thou tuneful soul, art gone th^' way. To sing thy strains aloud to brighter bands. The bright of earth read thee as best tliey know, Thy outward beauty see ; but what is hid Between tlie lines — th}- soul — they see it not. Thy lamp is on tiie hill and shines undimmed ! Thy harp hung up. Yet. tliough thy tongue be still Thy lamp will shijie forever on the hill ! 17 GEORGE W. CHILDS. Tlioii son of Justice, Truth and Righteousness ! Thou friend of Labor and of Capital ! Thou plain man of a thousand goodly parts, To thee alone the Muse inspiring sings ! To thee both Gutenberg and Schaeffer nod ! Ben Franklin tenders both his hands to thee ! To thee great Greeley looks and says : " Ah, here •'Is true political economy — ''Labor and Capital warmly shaking hands." Kind-hearted men, like Poets, are not made ; Tliey are the outgrowth of a struggling life — A life of toil, of trouble, and of pain. 'Tis all of God and fraught with hidden good, For in their early years the world to them Lay full of obstacles that tried the feet. God placed them there, unseen by eye of man, No doubt to teach the stumbler how to walk ; For men to move along the sunny side Of life must lift their feet and cautious step. 'Twill do to call all such our self-made men. Who, thrown upon their own resources young, Have " run the gauntlet " of a struggling life And wrought success out of adversity. oA^ The searching winds of March the acorn needs To change it to the stalwart forest oak ; Now, if the acorn needs the biting air. Do not brave hearts need nipping from despair ! 18 UNCLE AND THE BOYS. My boyliood home was in the country, And to our viHag-e one day came A band of women, men, and children — Some deaf and blind and some were lame. They struck their tents, like nomads do, And were the plain's contented dwellers : Tlie men bouglit horses and exchanged ; The women thrived as fortune tellers. Tills [)ilgrim band had wondrous power ; T!ie people begged they praj^ for gold ; So down they fell upon their knees And what occurred cannot be told. p]ac!i golden rafter in the sunlight Ketlected back full many a ray, And tiny splints and straws so worthless Produced a light that coped with day. The rocks and stones turned massive nuggets, And as the band moved slowly by, The fanners in the fields adjacent Astonished stood and cried "Oh, m}'^ !" The fruit on ti-ees hung golden fruit, -And gold turned all the leaves and wood, And rye and wheat and grass all gold : The people smiled and deemed it good. 1^ Some garnered up tlieir precious fruit, And stalk and tree cut quickly down ; Some filled gold in potato bags, And had it carted olf to town. This Joy obtained till harvest caine. And tlien a dift'rent aspect bore ; iBeside their iioard they stood and cried : "Kechange these things — we ask no more'/' *' Come back! comeback! ye wonder-workers I Comeback! comeback!" in secret cried ! And sure enough the band came back, Rechanged the scene, and calm replied : ''' We prayed for gold, just as ye asked, And ye, sore troubled, call us back ; Ne'er ask us pray for needless things, But only wliat ye know ye lack !" ■f rue, gold is precious and is useful— But are not also iron bars ? What would you do without your steamsliiiis. Your engines and your railroad cars ? MORAL. Now all you boys have heard the «lory— The Moral now, and all is told — That fireside is the most unhappy Surrounded by its walls of gold. 20 THE POET AND THE FISH, Ah, Little Fish, I'd happy be If I could swim As well as thee. Here from the bank I'll watch thy bends ) I want to learn Some oddg and ends. Ton don't know me? I'm all surprise } Just look again, With opened eyes? Don't bend thy tail So bashfully. But turn about And speak to me. Now, do but speak t 'Tis all I ask > I'll leave thee then In sun to ba&k. FISH. Who are you, sir, That you command? I'll not be ruled. Now understand t 21 POET. Why, Little Fish, Is it a Jest ? Don't thou know oie? Well, I'll he blest. Now, don't thou knoAf That hoar old man Who visits thee Whene'er he can ? Who lifts his cane, And frights thee so r Thy truest friend"- Now don't thee know f FISH. Why, bless you. Poet ! Am glad you've come ; I'm lonely here^ And need a chum. I'll lend an ear 5 What's new today? Be quick, dear sir, Or I'll not stay : You see those men With hook-and-lin'€ ? They can't fool me ! I've things down fine I 2^ POET. 0, silly fish ; Don't cliTe away ! Just stay a bit ? Oh, stay, stay, stay l They won't harm thee ^ A silly thought ! FISH. E'en such, Old Friend^ Are good for aught. I'll trust your word, Yet watch my eye ^ If they come back, You'll see me fly. POET. Ah, Little Fish, It must be sweet, Amid the \vaves. To plash and beat ^ Beside each boat, Each little craft, To swim alongj Or follow aft. But then for thee Men's nets are spread Alive to-day. To-morrow dead. 23 FISH. Too true, Old Man, You are my friend ; O, ^rant me life Without an end ! POET. I can't do that ; Pray ask of God ; I give those life Beneath the sod. There are such wights As breathe to-day, Who long ago Were turned to clay. FISH. I give men brains, Wise men declare ; And so they hunt Me everywhere. Now, prithee Friend, Do grant this wish — Just let me live Beyond the dish. POET. Beyond— Oh— I— Yes, Little Fish, I'll grant thee life Beyond the dish. BE AND DO. Wliat is Deep Thought to the .selfish ! What is Mind to workers ill ! Brain to such is but a creature, Cruelly slaoghtered by the Will. Honest thinkers ! honest toilers! Are of value more than such ! Like t'le tare, they crop up quickly. And amount to just as much. Honest Thought and Honest Action Always have been sorely tried ; Socrates, Aspasia, Bruno, Enimett — stood alone and died ! Be a Fatlier to the Fallen, Be a Mother to the Weak, Be a Brotlier to the Friendless, Be a Sister to the Meek. Do noi be afraid to scatter Honest thoughts, or words, or deeds I Look about you, see what's wanting ! Tell the world Just what it needs ! Home will laugh and some will argue ; But a tliought is never lost ; Even they will some da}^ see it, Take it up and pay the cost! 25 PISCES. Ladies, read it, con and ponder ; Sonietliing pleasant for to read ; I'l is frauf^lit with wisest counsel — Just the veiy thing you need. Yes, a poem — no adventure, With a lieroine so fjiir Just escaping- by a liair's breadtli In tlie moment of despair. Nor about a loving couple — How to catcli a wealthy beau ; I can iell you, but 'tis folly ; 1 believe you better kno^v. I can tell you— do you wisii me? Earnest, now, your true desire? Then remembei* 'tis a hardship ; Art is tedious to acquire. Get a hook-and-line and bait it ; Throw it out as far 'twill go ; Sit upon the bank as patient As at home you were to sew. No mistake, you'll feel a nibbling; Jerk it, quick now ! Ah, too late ! Blame yourself you didn't catch him ; Let him nibble oif your bait. Sometimes where the fish are tliiekest, And the line amid them thrown, Sometimes there is meanest fisliing, As has oftentimes been sliown. Do not weary from impatience, Mind and body passive, still ! 'Sh ! The}' swim in all directions ; One don't bite, another will. Keep on fishino;; 'tis experience, Time and thought with it combined ', Once 'tis learned 'tis ne'er forgotten — Ladies, keep this fact in mind. Some fish are not worth the catchinir ; Sliouhl they fasten on your hook, Do not waste a moment on tliem — Quickly throw them in the brook ! Tliere are things you must remember ; Tilings to learn from time to time ; Things the poet cannot teach you In his golden, jingling rhyme. •' Oft appearance is deceptive," Is an old, inviting thought ; Pretty fishes sometimes worthless — Sometimes worthy being cauglit. 27 Should a lish percluuice deceive you, Ignoi-ancc 'tis of ruling law ; Learn his luiture, 'tis your business ; Then (deceived you'll be no more ! Oh, how many go a-fishing, Wait and wait and wish and wish ; (>f the Art they kiioAv but little — Can't expect to catch a lish ! Now, supi)ose you should prove lucky ; Just suppose you caught a fish ; Just suppose it were a " flounder," ("IMs a most delicious dish) Full of spii-ir— flouncing, flapping — Hard to di-aw from water's crest. Would you do it? would unhook him? Would you do it? do your best? Inexperienced tishers tremble, Quit the sport, and then retreat ; Hut experienced fishers joy it When with such rare luck they meet. Such an one can catch a fine mess — Nicely string them — put on bait — Do a hundred things moreover, While you, poor souls, wish and wait. 28 I have done now with the poem ; Hope you think it very nice ; Study well the Art of Fishing ; Take the poet's kind advice. Do not fear the larger lishes ; Nor the smaller cast away ; Sometimes those that seem tlie wildest. In tlie pan most quiet lay. TIME OF HARVEST AND OF SONG. First the cloud-wreath, then the liglitning Then the thunder loud and long; 'J'hen the rain-storm, then the sunbeam. Tlien the Harvest and tlie Song! No real pleasure. In a measure, Ere the Harvest and the Song ! Oh, await it ! soon or lale it Comes — the Harvest and tlie Song! Ere the Plowman, or the Sov/er, Or the Reaper comes along. Comes the dark cloud with its lesson. Then the Harvest and the Song ! Comes affliction ! Comes conviction ! Then the Harvest and the Song! Oh, await it ! soon or late it Comes — the Harvest and the Song! THE ORATION. To write a good oration is one tliino; • to deliver it i>rop- erly is another. It is tliis liappy combination tliat makes tlie orator. He throws his soul into the work. When Goethe tells us that " Sincerity is the soul of eloquence " he means simply this, for just so soon as oratory ceases to be sincere, just so soon does it cease to be orator}' and merges into something else. Its very derivation (oro, to pray) im- plies this fact — a saciedness in which sincerity plan's a veiy important and essential pait. Hence, it distils its vital influence on the heart, little b}' little, lirst pleasing, then enthusino-, then setiing the soul of the hearer on Are. Dor- mant patriotism is aroused ] the spirit is awakened to new life ; and the latent forces of tlie mind grow rebellious : they declare themselves free and independent — free to think and learn ; independent — being the component i)arts ot Truth herself, which is the mother of Independence. The sacredness of its derivation alone tells us to love the good and to shun the bad ; tells us to hold in high esteem the noble living, and to cherish the memor}^ of the patriotic dead ; tells us that the astute statesman, the sacrificing philanthropist and the crippled soldier, are all entitled to an equal share of our respect. Although it may not be the province of the oration to directly warn against the manifold evils arising out of the partial disregard of these seemingly trivial matters, yet it does, however, lay particular stress in the fact that an 30 absolute neglect of apptireiitl}' iiisignirtcant trifles like these, that the old Roinaii patrician slighted and the statesman never liuve a thought, was one of tlie direct means whicli led to tiie downfall of tlie old Roman Republic, which had existed B. c. for 4G1 years Again, oratory suggests a love for " God, home and native bind"; and tliat in order to attain which we must have good pubUc schools, at once the foundation and the pillars of a republic. Grood public schools make wise men, wise men make good citizens, good citizens are the only pillars upon wdiich our sacied institutions can confidingly and securely I'est. As s[)ecimens of true orations w^e have that of R. H. Leo on Washington, just after the latter's death ; that of Daniel Webstei- ui)on the deat'i of Adams and of Jeft'ei'son ; and, lastly, the speech of Robert Emmett in the Court House, Dublin, aftei- being sentenced to death, Sep- tember 10. 180;]. Sometiuies we find so-called orations on analysis to be little else than continual bits of afi'ected elocution, full of insincerity and wholly void of thought, whose object is to pra\' ui)on the [)as5ions of men and win them over to a given cause — oftener an unvvorth}' one. In this category may be placed Marc Antony's Oration over the Dead Body of C'lesar, C;esar's Addre-;s to liis Soldiers on Ci'ossing the Rubicon, and. in more modern times, tiiose of our own l)Olitical demagogues. These fiagitious violators of the sacred oration are little better than the anticiuated school of Sophists who professed to teach the arts of thinking 31 and speakiii"' in public, but more especially as those ai'ts were applied to )>olitical science, thus tittino; men for tlie management of the att'airs of .State. This class of philoso- j)liers (?) held tliat truth was a nonentity ; and that what was popularly denominated trutli was merely the result of combined rhetoric and elocution, with which logic had little or nothing to do ; hence they were the direct i-ause of the looseness of moi-al> in Grecian society at that remote day. What with being the contemners and accuseis of Socrates, the very name of so))hist has long since become a term of repi-oach. and llie modern disciple, whether in politics, science or religion, is pointed out and relentless!}^ scorned hy the thinking world to-day. No wonder that they felt inclined to prefer the false and grievous charges against that good old man who sought to stay the hand of error with his anti(j[ue pi-ecej»ts I No wonder that they pushed the matter so energetically to have the State protTei- him the fatal hendock chalice — all that they might the more remove the obstacle and uninterruptedly pursue their sordid w^ork. Lord liyron. in one of iiis later poems, nobly takes up the defence in the following beautiful apostrophe : "Thy crime was to be kiu.l ; To render with thy precept less The sum of liuman wretchedness. And strengthen man with his own mind." It may be here observed that men with minds adapted for writing dis(j[uisitlons and critiques are seldom, if ever, capable of producing a good oration. The reason for this must seem obvious. The disquisition deals with {dnlosophy 32 and logic, tJie oration with poetry and rlietoric. Wliilst the latter, like critical poetry, is varied with bits of sub- limity and beaut.y and pathos, t!ie former deals wliolly with facts, making indefatigable researches for them and pre- senting them to the minds of men in a strong logical light. Voluminous philosopliical writers, as a class, who have no taste for poetry, show little or no taste in their prose com- position. They use a i)Oor, unpolished diction at best, and lack elegance and persi)icuity of tliought and expres- sion, consequently it is only with difficulty they are undei-- stood. Thoughts from these men are always novelties, and *;Annot be made too plain even to the most intelligent read- ers, inasmuch as tliey are the pearls of thought deep minds have brought forth from the unfathomable depths of Na- ture's vast self ; the}^ are naturally obscure, and to clothe tiiem in other than tlie plain Anglo-Saxon is to make them doubly so. In conclusion, apropos of the subject in hand, let it be argued that the most finished orations, antique or modern, this age has to be proud of, were either the handiwork of a born poet, or of some one with the poetic instinct develoijed to a remarkably high degree. Among the great orators who wrote poetry maj^ be mentioned Cicero, Chat- ham, Fox, Manstield, Curran, Webster, Claj^ Calhoun, Everett, and others. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 016 117 876 7 t Oa many fields of strife they fought, And gave the world a new-born thought ; And thou. Good Bell, didst ring it forth To East, and West, and South, and North.