Saladin. Assemble quickly My forces in the court. Tell them they come Silent obedience, from his followers. [Exit Attendant.] The word is given; I have nothing more To fear from thee, my brother. About to crave a miserable life. I am not Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem, Think not, either, The justness of thy sentence I would question. That, when thy voice had doom'd a brother's death, Thy harshness made him carry to the grave? Saladin. Speak, then; but ask thyself if thou hast reason To look for much indulgence here, Malek Adhel. I have not! Yet will I ask for it. We part forever; This is our last farewell; the king is satisfied; From the loved tongue which once breathed naught but kindness. Of all my youthful sports!-are they forgotten? Strike me with deafness, make me blind, O Heaven! Let me not see this unforgiving man Smile at my agonies! nor hear that voice Pronounce my doom, which would not say one word, One little word, whose cherish'd memory Saladin. [Seizing his hand.] Brother! brother! A single pang in store. Proceed! I'm ready. Saladin. Oh, art thou ready to forgive, my brother? To pardon him who found one single error, One little failing, 'mid a splendid throng Of glorious qualities Malek Adhel. Oh, stay thee, Saladin ! Pleased by my fate to add one other leaf Saladin. Thou shalt not. [Enter Attendant.] Attendant. My lord, the troops, assembled by your order, Tumultuous throng the courts. The prince's death Not one of them but vows he will not suffer. The mutes have fled; the very guards rebel. Can e'er be found a hand to do the office. Malek Adhel. Oh, faithful friends! [To Attendant.] Thine shalt Attendant. Mine? Never! The other first shall lop it from the body. Saladin. They teach the Emperor his duty well. Tell them he thanks them for it. Tell them, too, That, ere their opposition reach'd our ears, Saladin had forgiven Malek Adhel. Attendant. Oh, joyful news! I haste to gladden many a gallant heart, Saladin. These men, the meanest in society, The outcasts of the earth,-by war, by nature Call back one danger which thou hast not shared, Which thy resistless kindness hath not soothed, Malek Adhel. By these tears, I can! My heart, my soul, my sword, are thine forever! LESSON CLXXXI. NECESSITY OF MILITARY POSTS TO PROTECT THE FRONTIERS BY FISHER AMES. 1. IF any, against all these proofs, should maintain that the peace with the Indians will be stable without the posts, to them I will urge another reply. From arguments calculated to produce conviction, I will appeal directly to the hearts of those who hear me, and ask whether it is not already planted there... I resort especially to the convictions of the Western gentlemen, whether, supposing no posts and no treaty, the settlers will remain in security. Can they take it upon them to say that an Indian peace, under these circumstances, will prove firm? No, sir! it will not be peace, but a sword; it will be no better than a lure to draw victims within the reach of the tomahawk. 2. On this theme my emotions are unutterable. If I could find words for them, if my powers bore any proportion to my zeal, I would swell my voice to such a note of remonstrance, it should reach every log-house beyond the mountains. I would say to the inhabitants, Wake from your false security! Your cruel dangers, your more cruel apprehensions, are soon to be renewed. The wounds, yet unhealed, are to be torn open again. In the daytime, your path through the woods will be ambushed; the darkness of midnight will glitter with the blaze of your dwellings. You are a father, the blood of your sons shall fatten your cornfield. You are a mother, the war-whoop shall wake the sleep of the cradle. 3. On this subject you need not suspect any deception on your feelings. It is a spectacle of horror, which cannot be overdrawn. If you have nature in your hearts, they will speak a language compared with which all I have said or can say will be poor and frigid. 4. Who will say that I exaggerate the tendencies of our measures? Will any one answer, by a sneer, that all this is idle preaching? Will any one deny that we are bound, and I would hope to good purpose, by the most solemn sanctions of duty, for the vote we give? Are despots alone to be reproached for unfeeling indifference to the tears and blood of their subjects? Are republicans unresponsible? Have the principles on which you ground the reproach upon cabinets and kings no practical influence, no binding force? Are they merely themes of idle declamation, introduced to decorate the morality of a newspaper essay, or to furnish pretty topics of harangue from the windows of that State-House? I trust it is neither too presumptuous nor too late to ask, Can you put the dearest interest of society at risk without guilt and without remorse? 5. It is vain to offer, as an excuse, that public men are not to be reproached for the evils that may happen to ensue from their measures. This is very true where they are unforeseen or in evitable. Those I have depicted are not unforeseen; they are sc far from inevitable, we are going to bring them into being by our vote. We choose the consequences, and become as justly answerable for them as for the measure that we know will produce them. 6. By rejecting the posts, we light the savage fires; we bind the victims. This day we undertake to render account to the widows and orphans whom our decision will make. To the wretches that will be roasted at the stake; to our country; and, I do not deem it too serious to say, to conscience and to God, we are answerable; and, if duty be any thing more than a word of imposture, if conscience be not a bugbear, we are preparing to make ourselves as wretched as our country. 7. There is no mistake in this case; there can be none. Experience has already been the prophet of events, and the cries of Our future victims have already reached us. The Western inhabitants are not a silent and uncomplaining sacrifice. The voice of humanity issues from the shade of the wilderness. It exclaims, that, while one hand is held up to reject this treaty, the other grasps a tomahawk. It summons our imagination to scenes that will open. It is no great effort of the imagination to conceive that events so near are already begun. I can fancy that I listen to the yells of savage vengeance and the shrieks of torture! Already they seem to sigh in the western wind! Already they mingle with every echo from the mountains! L. 2 LESSON CLXXXII. WILLIAM TELL'S ADDRESS TO THE MOUNTAINS BY J. S. KNOWLES. YE crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! I hold to you the hands you first beheld, To show they still are free. Methinks I hear I rush to you, As though I could embrace you! Scaling yonder peak, |