Phar.

Why, thou slave !— Thou most ungrateful to thy parent-land;

I am not blind to thy design; but where,

Where would thy proud ambition lead thy people?
Where is their country?—Where the resting-place
Fairer than Goshen? or the river's wave

More bounteous than our Nile, to which thy spirit,
Thy patriot spirit, roused by the dear cry
Of" native land," is burning to conduct thee,
Defying toil, and danger!-Hypocrite!

Thy parent was the Nile, thy country, Egypt !-
When the false Hebrew woman on the bed
Of mighty Nilus laid thy rush-built ark,
Witness, Osiris, witness, mighty Isis,
With what a care he nestled thy young form
In his broad bosom-he forbade his waves
To rise, lest their ungentle motion should
Break on thy quiet slumbers; he forbade
The wind to howl around thee, but he sent
Soft gentle airs to sing thee to thy sleep,
Mildly to curl his waters, and to bear
Thee, pillow'd on his bosom, to thy home,-

Thy royal home, the arms of Thermutis,

Who made thee great in Egypt. Hence with thee, hence!

Who is the God, for whom thou darest me thus !—

Go-thrust him from my presence-now, take heed

Thine own life be secure; come not again

Before my face, for in the day thou dost,

By Isis, thou shalt die!

Moses.
Thou hast said well,
No more again shall I behold thy face.
Who is the God, for whom I dare thy wrath?
Hear, Pharaoh,-Egypt, hear !--It is the God
Who rules your deities, the moon, the stars,—
Who made them, not for worship, but for service,
The humblest service, service of his creatures.
He is alone, he is the ONE, the ALL,
From all eternity, to all enduring;

The crowned with the sun, circled by fire,

Veil'd in thick clouds, through which the lightnings glance
From his immortal eye. His breath is storm,

His voice the thunder, and a thousand worlds
Are shaken in their spheres, at his stern tread.
His garment is the heavens, and this earth
The signet on his hand!

SECTION LXXVII.

EXTRACT FROM THE WEST INDIAN CONTROVERSY.

Blackwood's Magazine.

Mr. Brougham adopts boldly, in the Edinburgh Review, the very simple and satisfactory argument on which Mr. Clarkson rests the whole substance of his late pamphlet. It amounts to this:-Every man has an in-born indefeasible right to the free use of his own bodily strength and exertion, it follows that no man can be kept for one moment in a state of bondage, without the guilt of robbery: therefore the West Indian negroes ought to be set free. This is an argument of very easy comprehension, and the Edinburgh reviewer exclaims, with an air of very well enacted triumph, "Such plain ways of considering the question are, after all, the best!"

Ingenious Quaker, and most ingenious reviewer! If this be so, why write pamphlets and reviews full of arguments and details, or pretended details of facts? If every West Indian planter is a thief and a robber, why bother our heads about the propriety, the propriety forsooth, of compelling him to make restitution? If the British nation is guilty as an accessary both before the fact, and in the fact, of theft and robbery, why tell the British nation that they are the most virtuous and religious nation in the world, and that they ought to restore what they have stolen and robbed, because they are so virtuous and so religious? The affair is so base, that it will scarcely bear looking at for one second. What! long prosing discussions about whether we ought to cease to be thieves and robbers, now, or ten years, or a hundred years hence! Was ever such a monstrous perversion of human powers? Sir, that estate is not yours-it is your neighbour's estate, and you have no more right to cultivate it, or any part of it, for your own behoof, than the man in the moon. You must restore this estate to its rightful owner-Immediately? No, not immediately. Your neighbour ought to have the acres, and knows that he ought to have them. They are his right, he has been long deprived of the estate -his father was deprived of it before him. The family have all been brought up in a way quite different from what would have been, had they been in possession of their rights. They have formed habits altogether unlike what those of the proprietors of such an estate ought to be. They have

been accustomed to poverty, and they are an ignorant, uneducated family. You must not give up their land immediately. They would be injured in their health and morals, by the immediate possession of their estate. Indeed, it may be doubted whether the present man ought ever to get his land at all.

You therefore must, from a regard for the best interests of this family, continue in the meantime, thief and robber of their goods. Let the young men be hedgers and ditchers on your estate, as they have been; let the young women continue at service. But you must improve the parish school, lower the schoolmaster's wages by degrees, so as to let all these young people have an opportunity of picking up some education. By this means, the family will gradually get up their heads a little; and at some future period, it may be found quite safe and proper to give them all their rights. The present people, to be sure, will be dead ere then-but how can you help that? You are not the original thief, you know, you can't answer for all the consequences of a crime, into which you may be said to have been led by your own parents, and by the whole course of your own education. No, no-it would never do to give up the stolen goods at once. As I said before, it would certainly turn the heads of all these poor people-the parish would be kept in a state of hot water by them. Time must be allowed for taming them; they were always a hot-headed family. In due time you ought to desist from your present crimes.

Such substantially is-such cannot be denied to be—the "the plain and simple" argument of these gentlemen; and so is it applied by themselves to the subject which, plain and simple as it is, they have taken such huge pains to elucidate.

It is upon such arguments that a complete revolution of the whole domestic, as well as political relations, in the whole of these great colonial establishments is demanded; a revolution involving, if we are to listen for a moment to the proprietors of these islands, the absolute ruin of all their possessions; a revolution, the perilous nature of which is confessed by these men themselves in the language-the indescribable, ineffable language-which says to all the world, "This revolution must be: Justice demands itReligion demands it: but we confess, that in spite of justice and religion, it must not be now

S

SECTION LXXVIII.

PROCIDA-MONTALBA-RAIMOND-GUIDO.....Mrs. Hemans.

Procida. THE morn lower'd darkly, but the sun hath now, With fierce and angry splendour, through the clouds Burst forth, as if impatient to behold

This, our high triumph. Lead the prisoner in.

[Enter Raimond. Why, what a bright and fearless brow is here! -Is this man guilty ?-Look on him, Montalba! Montalba. Be firm. Should justice falter at a look? Pro. No, thou say'st well. Her eyes are filletted, Or should be so. Thou that dost call thyself

But no! I will not breathe a traitor's name-
Speak! thou art arraign'd of treason.

Raimond.
I arraign
You, before whom I stand, of darker guilt,

In the bright face of heaven; and your own hearts
Give echo to the charge. Your very looks

Have ta'en the stamp of crime, and seem to shrink
With a perturb'd and haggard wildness, back

From the too-searching light. Why, what hath wrought
This change on noble brows?-There is a voice
With a deep answer, rising from the blood
Your hands have coldly shed!-Ye are of those
From whom just men recoil, with curdling veins,
All thrill'd by life's abhorrent consciousness,
And sensitive feeling of a murderer's presence.
Away! come down from your tribunal-seat,
Put off your robes of state, and let your mien
Be pale and humbled; for ye bear about you
That which repugnant earth doth sicken at,
More than the pestilence. That I should live
To see my father shrink!
Pro.

Montalba, speak!

There's something chokes my voice-but fear me not.
Mont. If we must plead to vindicate our acts,

Be it when thou hast made thine own look clear;

Most eloquent youth! What answer canst thou make
To this our charge of treason?

Rai.
I will plead
That cause before a mightier judgment-throne,
Where mercy is not guilt. But here, I feel,

Too buoyantly the glory and the joy

Of my free spirit's whiteness; for e'en now
Th' embodied hideousness of crime doth seem
Before me glaring out. Why, I saw thee,
Thy foot upon an aged warrior's breast,
Trampling out nature's last convulsive heavings.
And thou-thy sword-Oh, valiant chief!-is yet
Red from the noble stroke which pierced, at once,
A mother and the babe, whose little life
Was from her bosom drawn!

For bards to hymu !
Gui. (aside.)

Immortal deeds

I look upon his mien,
And waver. Can it be ?-My boyish heart

Deem'd him so noble once!-Away, weak thoughts!
Why should I shrink, as if the guilt were mine,
From his proud glance?

Pro.
Oh, thou dissembler! thou,
So skill'd to clothe with virtue's generous flush
The hollow cheek of cold hypocrisy,

That, with thy guilt made manifest, I can scarce
Believe thee guilty!-look on me, and say
Whose was the secret warning voice, that saved
De Couci with his bands, to join our foes,
And forge new fetters for th' indignant land?
Whose was this treachery?

(Shows him papers.) Who hath promised here, (Belike to appease the manes of the dead,) At midnight to unfold Palermo's gates,

And welcome in the foe?—Who hath done this,
But thou, a tyrant's friend?

Rai.

Who hath done this?
Father!-if I may call thee by that name—
Look, with thy piercing eye, on those whose smiles
Were masks that hid their daggers. There, perchance,
May lurk what loves not light too strong. For me,
I know but this-there needs no deep research
To prove the truth-that murderers may be traitors
Ev'n to each other.

Pro. (to Mont.) His unaltering cheek
Still vividly doth hold its natural hue,
And his eye quails not!-Is this innocence?
Mont. No! 'tis th' unshrinking hardihood
-Thou bear'st a gallant mien !-But where i
Whom thou hast barter'd fame and life to save
The fair Provençal maid ?—What kn