idea, intimately present to the mind, must have a most powerful effect in refining the moral taste. Composed of the richest elements, it embraces, in the character of a beneficient Parent, and Almighty Ruler, whatever is venerable in wisdom, whatever is awful in authority, whatever is touching in goodness. Human excellence is blendid with many imperfections, and seen under many limitations. It is beheld only in detatched and separate portions, nor ever appears in any one character, whole and entire. So that, when, in imitation of the stoics, we wish to form out of these fragments, the notion of a perfectly wise and good man, we know it is a mere fiction of the mind, without any real being in whom it is embodied and realized. In the belief of a Deity, these conceptions are reduced to a reality: the scattered rays of an ideal excellence are concentrated, and become real attributes of that Being, with whom we stand in the nearest relation, who sits supreme at the head of the universe, is armed with infinite power, and pervades all nature with his presence. The efficacy of these sentiments in producing and augmenting a virtuous taste, will indeed be proportioned to the vividness with which they are formed, and the frequency with which they recur; yet some benefit will not fail to result from them, even in their lowest degree. The idea of the Supreme Being has this peculiar property; that as it admits of no substitute, so, from the first moment it is impressed, it is capable of con tinual growth and enlargement. God himself is immutable: but our conception of his character is continually receiving fresh accessions; is continually growing more extended and refulgent, by having transferred upon it new perceptions, of beauty, and goodness; by attracting to itself, as a centre, whatever bears the impress of dignity, order, or happiness. It borrows splendour, from all that is fair, subordinates to itself all that is great, and sits enthroned, on the riches of the universe. ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CESAR'S SHAKSPEARE. Friends, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears; I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: N But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept ; Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; I thrice presented him a kingly crown; And sure, he is an honourable man ? I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, You all did love him once; not without cause: I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong; Who, you all know, are honourable men. To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Let but the commons hear this testament, And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood; Yea beg a hair of him for memory, And dying, mention it within their wills, Unto their issue. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Cæsar put it on; "Twas on a summer's evening in his tent; That day he overcame the Nervii : Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through! See what a rent the envious Casca made. For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab, Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart; And in his mantle, muffling up his face, Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell. Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down, O! now you weep; and I perceive, you feel, Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed, are honourable : What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, That made them do it; they are wise, and honoura ble, And will, no doubt, with reason answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts; But as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend, and that they know full well dumb |