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XL.

ORATION ON THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON.

BY HENRY LEE.

How, my fellow-citizens, shall I single' to your grateful hearts his preeminent worth? Where shall I begin in opening to your view a character throughout sublime? Shall I speak of his warlike achievements, all springing from obedience to his country's will-all directed to his country's good?

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Will you go with me to the banks of the Monongahela, to see our youthful Washington supporting in the dismal hour of Indian victory the ill-fated Braddock,' and saving, by his judgment and his valor, the remains 10 of a defeated army, pressed by the conquering savage foe? Or when, oppressed America nobly resolving to risk her all in defence of her violated right, he was elevated by the unanimous vote of Congress to the command of her armies? Will you follow him to the high grounds of Boston, where to an undisciplined, courageous, and virtuous yeomanry' his presence gave the stability of system and infused the invincibility of love of country? Or shall I carry you to the painful scenes of Long Island, York Island, and New Jersey, when, com-20 bating superior and gallant armies, aided by powerful fleets and led by chiefs high in the roll of fame, he stood the bulwark of our safety, undismayed by disasters, unchanged by change of fortune? Or will you view him in the precarious fields of Trenton, where deep gloom, 25 unnerving every arm, reigned triumphant through our

thinned, worn-down, unaided ranks, to himself unknown? Dreadful was the night. It was about this time of winter; the storm raged; the Delaware, rolling furiously with floating ice, forbade the approach of man. Washington, self-collected, viewed the tremendous scene. His 5 country called; unappalled by surrounding dangers, he passed to the hostile shore; he fought, he conquered. The morning sun cheered the American world. Our country rose on the event, and her dauntless chief, pursuing his blow, completed in the lawns of Princeton 10 what his vast soul had conceived on the shores of the Delaware.

Thence to the strong grounds of Morristown he led his small but gallant band; and through an eventful winter, by the high effort of his genius, whose matchless 15 force was measurable only by the growth of difficulties, he held in check formidable hostile legions, conducted by a chief' experienced in the arts of war, and famed for his valor on the ever-memorable Heights of Abraham,* where fell Wolfe, Montcalm,' and since our much lament-20 ed Montgomery," all covered with glory. In this fortunate interval, produced by his masterly conduct, our fathers, ourselves, animated by his resistless example, rallied around our country's standard, and continued to follow her beloved chief through the various and trying scenes to which the destinies of our union led.

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Who is there that has forgotten the vales of Brandywine, the fields of Germantown, or the plains of Monmouth? Everywhere present, wants of every kind obstructing, numerous and valiant armies encountering, 30 himself a host, he assuaged our sufferings, limited our privations, and upheld our tottering Republic. Shall I display to you the spread of the fire of his soul, by rehearsing the praises of the hero of Saratoga and his

much-loved compeer of the Carolinas?" No; our Washington wears not borrowed glory. To Gates, to Greene, he gave without reserve the applause due to their eminent merit; and long may the chiefs of Saratoga and of Eutaw receive the grateful respect of a grateful people.

Moving in his own orbit, he imparted heat and light to his most distant satellites; and combining the physical and moral force of all within his sphere, with irresistible weight, he took his course, commiserating folly, disdaining vice, dismaying treason, and invigorating despond-10 ency; until the auspicious hour arrived when, united with the intrepid forces of a potent and magnanimous ally," he brought to submission the since conqueror' of India; thus finishing his long career of military glory with a luster corresponding to his great name, and in 15 this, his last act of war, affixing the seal of fate to our nation's birth...

First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen," he was second to none in the humble and endearing scenes of private life. Pious, just, hu-20 mane, temperate, and sincere, uniform, dignified, and commanding, his example was edifying to all around him, as were the effects of that example lasting.

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To his equals he was condescending; to his inferiors, kind; and to the dear object of his affections, exempla-25 rily tender. Correct throughout, vice shuddered in his presence, and virtue always felt his fostering hand; the purity of his private character gave effulgence to his public virtues. His last scene comported with the whole tenor of his life. Although in extreme pain, not a sigh, 30 not a groan, escaped him; and with undisturbed serenity he closed his well spent life. Such was the man America has lost! Such was the man for whom our nation mourns!

XLI.

THE BISON TRACK.

BY BAYARD TAYLOR.'

STRIKE the tent! the sun has risen; not a vapor streaks the dawn,

And the frosted prairie brightens to the westward far and wan:

Prime afresh the trusty rifle-sharpen well the hunting-spear—

For the frozen sod is trembling, and a noise of hoofs I hear!

Fiercely stamp the tethered horses, as they snuff the morning's fire;

Their impatient heads are tossing, and they neigh with keen desire.

Strike the tent! the saddles wait us-let the bridle

reins be slack,

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For the prairie's distant thunder has betrayed the 15 bison's track.

See! a dusky line approaches: hark, the onward-surg

ing roar,

Like the din of wintry breakers on a sounding wall

of shore!

Dust and sand behind them whirling, snort the fore

most of the van,

And their stubborn horns are clashing through the crowded caravan.

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Now the storm is down upon us: let the maddened

horses go!

We shall ride the living whirlwind, though a hundred leagues it blow!

Though the cloudy manes should thicken, and the red eyes' angry glare

Lighten round us as we gallop through the sand and rushing air!

Myriad hoofs will scar the prairie, in our wild, resist

less race,

And a sound, like mighty waters, thunder down the

desert space :

Yet the rein may not be tightened, nor the rider's eye look back—

Death to him whose speed should slacken, on the maddened bison's track!

Now the trampling herds are threaded, and the chase is close and warm

For the giant bull that gallops in the edges of the storm:

Softly hurl the whizzing lasso-swing your rifles as

we run:

See! the dust is red behind him-shout, my comrades, he is won!

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Look not on him as he staggers 'tis the last shot he„ will need!

More shall fall, among his fellows, ere we run the mad stampede

Ere we stem the brinded' breakers, while the wolves,

a hungry pack,

Howl around each grim-eyed carcass on the bloody bison track.

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