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with delight, till the morning sun shone on the tapestries of the House of Lords, to the lofty and animated eloquence of Charles Earl Grey, are able to form some estimate of the powers of a race of men among whom he was not the foremost.

The charges and the answers of Hastings were first read. The ceremony occupied two whole days, and was rendered less tedious than it would otherwise have been by the silver voice and just emphasis of Cowper, the clerk of the court, a near relation of the amiable poet. On the third day Burke rose. Four sittings were occupied by his opening speech, which was intended to be a general introduction to all the charges. With an exuberance of thought and a splendor of diction which more than satisfied the highly raised expectation of the audience, he described the character and institutions of the natives of India, recounted the circumstances in which the Asiatic empire of Britain had originated, and set forth the constitution of the Company and of the English presidencies. Having thus attempted to communicate to his hearers an idea of Eastern society, as vivid as that which existed in his own mind, he proceeded to arraign the administration of Hastings as systematically conducted in defiance of morality and public law. The energy and pathos of the great orator extorted expressions of unwonted admiration from the stern and hostile Chancellor, and, for a moment, seemed to pierce even the resolute heart of the defendant. The ladies in the galleries, unaccustomed to such displays of eloquence, excited by the solemnity of the occasion, and perhaps not unwilling to display their taste and sensibility, were in a state of uncontrollable emotion. Handkerchiefs were pulled out; smelling bottles were handed round; hysterical sobs and screams were heard; and Mrs. Sheridan was carried out in a fit. At length the orator concluded. Raising his voice till the old arches of Irish oak resounded, "Therefore," said he, "hath it with all confidence

been ordered by the Commons of Great Britain, that I impeach Warren Hastings of high crimes and misdemeanors. I impeach him in the name of the Commons' House of Parliament, whose trust he has betrayed. I impeach him in the name of the English nation, whose ancient honor he has sullied. I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose rights he has trodden under foot, and whose country he has turned into a desert. Lastly, in the name of human nature itself, in the name of both sexes, in the name of every age, in the name of every rank, I impeach the common enemy and oppressor

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And every Alban burgher

Hath donned his whitest gown; And every head in Alba

Weareth a poplar crown;

And every Alban doorpost

With boughs and flowers is gay; For to-day the dead are living; The lost are found to-day.

They were doomed by a bloody king; They were doomed by a lying priest; They were cast on the raging flood;

They were tracked by the raging beast. Raging beast and raging flood Alike have spared the prey; And to-day the dead are living; The lost are found to-day.

The troubled river knew them,
And smoothed his yellow foam,

And gently rocked the cradle
That bore the fate of Rome.

The ravening she-wolf knew them,
And licked them o'er and o'er,
And gave them of her own fierce milk,
Rich with raw flesh and gore.
Twenty winters, twenty springs,
Since then have rolled away;
And to-day the dead are living;
The lost are found to-day.

Blithe it was to see the twins,
Right goodly youths and tall,
Marching from Alba Longa

To their old grandsire's hall.
Along their path fresh garlands
Are hung from tree to tree;
Before them stride the pipers,
Piping a note of glee.

On the right goes Romulus,
With arms to the elbows red,
And in his hand a broadsword,
And on the blade a head, -
A head in an iron helmet,

With horse hair hanging down,
A shaggy head, a swarthy head,
Fixed in a ghastly frown,
The head of King Amulius
Of the great Sylvian line,
Who reigned in Alba Longa,
On the throne of Aventine.

On the left side goes Remus,
With wrists and fingers red,
And in his hand a boar spear,

And on the point a head,-
A wrinkled head and aged,
With silver beard and hair,
And holy fillets round it,

Such as the pontiffs wear,

The head of ancient Camers,

Who spake the words of doom:

"The children to the Tiber;

The mother to the tomb."

Two and two behind the twins

Their trusty comrades go,

Four and forty valiant men,

With club, and ax, and bow. On each side every hamlet

Pours forth its joyous crowd,
Shouting lads and baying dogs
And children laughing loud,
And old men weeping fondly
As Rhea's boys go by,

And maids who shriek to see the heads,
Yet shrieking, press more nigh.

So they marched along the lake;
They marched by fold and stall,
By cornfield and by vineyard,

Unto the old man's hall.

In the hall gate sat Capys,
Capys, the sightless seer;

From head to foot he trembled

As Romulus drew near.

And up stood stiff his thin white hair,

And his blind eyes flashed fire:

"Hail! foster child of the wondrous nurse! Hail! son of the wondrous sire!

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