Speeches in the Roman Senate.
Cato. Fathers! we are once again met in
Cæsar's approach has summon'd us together, And Rome attends her fate from our resolves. How shall we treat this bold, aspiring man? Success still follows him, and backs his crimes. Pharsalia gave him Rome. Egypt has since Receiv'd bis yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæsar's. Why should I mention Juba's overthrow, And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sands Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should de-
What course to take. Our foe advances on us, And envies us even Lybia's sultry deserts. Fathers, pronounce your thoughts.
To hold it out and fight it to the last? Or, are your hearts subdued at length, and
By tine and ill success to a submission? Semphronious, speak.
Semphronius. My voice is still for war. Gods! can a Roman senate long debate Which of the two to choose, slavery or death? No-Let us rise at once; gird on our swords, And, at the head of our remaining troops, Attack the foe; break through the thick array Of his throng'd legions; and charge home upon
Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, May reach his heart, and free the world from
Rise, Fathers, rise! Tis Rome demands your
Risc, and revenge her slaughtered citizens,
Or share their fate! The corpse of half hersen
Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we Sit here, deliberating in cold debates: If we should sacrifice our lives to honor, Or wear them out in servitude and chains. Rouse up, for shame! Our brothers of Pharsalia Point at their wounds, and cry aloud to battle! Great Pompey's shade complains that we are
And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us.
Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason. True fortitude is seen in great exploits, That justice warrants and that wisdom guides; All else is towering frenzy and distraction. Are not the lives of those who draw the sword In Rome's defence, entrusted to our care? Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter, Might not the impartial world, with reason, say We lavish'd, at our deaths, the blood of thou
To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious? Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion.
Lucius. My thoughts, Imust confess, are turn'd
Already have our quarrels fill'd the world With widows and with orphans. Scithia mourns Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome.
'Tis time to sheath the sword, and spare man
It is not Cæsar, but the Gods, my fathers! The Gods declare against us and repel our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle. (Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair) Were to refuse the awards of Providence, And not to rest in heaven's determination. Already have we shewn our love to Rome: Now let us shew submission to the Gods. We took up arms not to revenge ourselves, But free the commonwealth.
Arms have no further use. That drew our swords, now wrests 'em from our
And bids us not delight in Roman blood Unprofitably shed. What men could do Is done already. Heaven and earth will witness, If Rome must fall, that we are innocent.
Cato. Let us appear, not rash, nor diffident Immoderate valor swells into a fault; And fear. admitted into pablic councils, Betrays like freason. Let us shun 'em both.-- Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs
Are grown thus desporate.
Within our walls are troops inur'd to toil In Afric heats, and season'd to the sun. Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us, Ready to rise at its young prince's call. While there is hope, do not distrust the Gods; But wait, at least, till Cæsar's near approach Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late
To sue for chains and own a conquerer. Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time ? No-let us draw our term of freedom out In its full length, and spin it to the last; So shall we gain still one day's liberty. And let me perish; but in Cato's judgment, A day, an hour of virtuous liberty,
Is worth a whole eternity of bondage.
COLUMBUS wasa considerable number of years engaged in solicit. ing the court of Spain to fit him out, in order to discover a new continent, which he imagined existed some where in the we tern parts of the ocean. During his negociations, he is supposed to address king FERDINAND in the following stanzas :
ILLUSTRIOUS monarch of Iberia's soil, Too long I wait permission to depart : Sick of delays, I beg thy list'ning car- Shine forth the patron and the prince of art. While yet Columbus breathes the vital air, Grant his request to pass the western main : Reserve this glory for thy native soil,
And what must please thee more for thy own
Of this huge globe how small a part we know- Does heaven their worlds to western sons deny ? How disproportion'd to the mighty deep The lands that yet in human prospect lie! Doss Cynthia, when to western skies arriv'd, Spend her sweet team upon the barren main, And ne'er illume with midnight splendor, she, The native dancing on the lightsome green ?
Should the vast circuit of the world contain Such wastes of ocean, and such scanty land ? 'Tis reason's voice that bids me think notso; I think more nobly of the Almighty band. Does you fair lamp trace half the circle round To light the waves and monsters of the seas ? No-be there must, beyond the billowy waste, Islands, and men, and animals and trees. To seek new lands amidst the barren waves, Where falling low, the source of da y descends, And the blue sea his evening visage laves. Hear, in this tragic lay, Cordova's sage : * "The time shall come when numerous years are
past, The ocean shall dissolve the band of things, And an extended region rise at last : And Typhis shall disclose the mighty land, Far, far away where none have rov'd before; Nor shall the world's remotest regions be Gibraltar's rock, or Thule's savage shore." Fir'd at the theme, I languish to depart, Supply the barque, and bid Columbus sail; Ile fears no storms upon the untravell'd deep; Reason shall steer, and skill disarm the gale. Nor does he dread to lose the intended course, Though far from land the reeling galley stray, And skies above, and gulfy seas below Be the sole object seen for many a day. Think not that nature has unveil'd in vain The mystic magnet to the mortal eye, So late have we the guided needle plann'd Only to sail beneath our native sky ? Ere this was found the ruling power of all,
Seneca, the poet, native of Cordova, in Spain.
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