all the glories of imagination as a garment; to penetrate the soul, and to make men feel as if they were themselves new creatures, to make them conscious of new powers and a new being; to exercise, in the loftiest measure, the only glorious and godlike sway,- that over willing minds; to fill the ear, the eye, the inmost soul, with sounds, and images, and holy visions of beauty and grandeur; to make truth and justice, to make wisdom and virtue and religion, more lovely and majestic things than men had ever thought them before; to delight as well as to convince; to charm, to fascinate, to win, to arouse, to calm, to terrify, to overwhelm,— this is the work of eloquence; and it is a glorious work. 4. The great object of all the liberal arts is to exhibit the mind; to exhibit character, thought, feeling, in their various aspects. In this consists all their power and sublimity. For this, the painter spreads upon the dull canvas the breathing forms of life; the sculptor causes the marble to speak; the architect models the fair and majestic structure, with sublimity enthroned in its dome, with beauty shaped in its columns, and glory written upon its walls; and the poet builds his lofty rhyme; and the eloquent in music, orders his movement and combination of sweet sounds. But, of this mind, the human frame is the appointed instrument. It was designed for this end. For it could have answered all the purposes of physical existence, without any of its present grace and beauty. It was made with no more obvious intent than to be the expression of mind, the organ of the soul, the vehicle of thought. 5. And when all its powers are put in requisition for this purpose, the voice, with all its thrilling tones; the eye, "through which, as a window, the soul darts forth its light;" the lips, on which "grace is poured;" the whole glowing countenance, the whole breathing frame, which, in their ordinary forms, can express more than the majesty of an Apollo, more than the agony of a Laocoön; 2 when every motion speaks, every lineament is more than the written line of genius, every muscle swells with the inspiration of high thoughts, every nerve is swayed to the movings of some mighty theme,-what instrument of music, what glories of the canvas, can equal it? 6. Eloquence is the combination of all arts, and it excels them all in their separate powers. Nor is it confined to the mere gratification of taste. The great and ultimate object of social existence is for man to act on man; and eloquence is the grandest medium of this action. It is not only the highest perfection of a human being, (for "the orator must be a good man,") but it is that perfection in act. It is sublimity, beauty, genius, power, in their most glorious exercise. 1. 0 LESSON CXV. THE VOICE AND THE PEN. D. F. M'CARTHY. H! the orator's Voice is a mighty power As it echoes from shore to shore; And the fearless Pen has more sway o'er men Than the murderous cannon's roar. What bursts the chain far o'er the main, And brightens the captive's den? "Tis the fearless Voice and the Pen of power, (f) Hurrah for the Voice and Pen! 2. The tyrant knaves who deny our rights, Your hills are ours; with our forts and towers 3. Though your horsemen stand with their bridles in hand, And your sentinels walk around, Though your matches flare in the midnight air, And your brazen trumpets sound,— Oh! the orator's tongue shall be heard among And they'll quickly say, "Why should we slay 4. When the Lord created the earth and sea, The Godhead spoke, and the universe woke, Let a word be flung from the orator's tongue, And the chains accursed asunder burst, 5. Oh! these are the swords with which we fight, Which no tyrant hand will dare to brand, When these we bore, we triumphed before,With these we'll triumph again; And the world will say, "No power can stay The Voice and the fearless Pen!" 1. LESSON CXVI. THE BURIAL OF MOSES. ANON. Y Nebo's lonely mountain, For the "Sons of God" upturned the sod, 2. That was the grandest funeral But no man heard the tramping, Comes when the night is done, 3. Noiselessly as the Spring-time Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills Open their thousand leaves; So, without sound of music, Or voice of them that wept, Silently down from the mountain's crown 4. Perchance the bald old eagle, Looked on the wondrous sight; Still shuns that hallowed spot; For beast and bird have seen and heard 5. But when the warrior dieth, His comrades in the war, With arms reversed, and muffled drum, Follow the funeral-car: They show the banners taken, They tell the battles won, And after him lead his masterless steed, 6. Amid the noblest of the land Men lay the sage to rest, And give the bard an honored place, With costly marble dressed, In the great minster transept, Where lights like glories fall; And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings Along the emblazoned wall. |