Mal. Ad Now. Saladin,

The word is given, I have nothing more
To fear from thee, my brother. I am not
About to crave a miserable life.

Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem,
Life were a burden to me. Think not, either,
The justice of thy sentence I would question.
But one request now trembles on my tongue,
One wish still clinging round the heart, which soon
Not even that shall torture, will it, then,

Thinkest thou, thy slumbers render quieter,
Thy waking thoughts more pleasing, to reflect,
That when thy voice had doomed a brother' death,
The last request which e'er was his to utte

Thy harshness made him carry to the gra e?

Sal. Speak, then; but ask thyself if thou hast reason To look for much indulgence here.

Mal. Ad. I have not!

Yet will I ask for it. We part forever;

This is our last farewell; the king is satisfied;
The judge has spoke the irrevocable sentence.
None sees, none hears, save that omniscient power,
Which, trust me, will not frown to look upon
Two brothers part like such. When, in the face
Of forces once my own, I 'm led to death,
Then be thine eye unmoistened; let thy voice
Then speak my doom untrembling; then,
Unmoved, behold this stiff and blackened corse.
But now I ask nay, turn not, Saladin !
I ask one single pressure of thy hand;
From that stern eye one solitary tear

O, torturing recollection!-one kind word

From the loved tongue which once breathed naught but kindness
Still silent? Brother! friend! beloved companion

Of all my youthful sports! are they forgotten? -
Strike me with deafness, make me blind, Ů 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 cherished memory
Would soothe the struggles of departing life!
Yet, yet thou wilt! O, turn thee, Saladin !

Look on my face,

thou canst not spurn me then,

Look on the once-loved face of Malek Adhel

For the last time, and call him

Sal. [seizing his hand]. Brother! brother!
Mal. Al. [breaking away]. Now call thy follow

Death has not now

A single pang in store. Proceed! I'm ready.
Sal. O, 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 -

Mal. Ad O, stay thee, Saladin!

I did not ask for life. I only wished
To carry thy forgiveness to the grave.
No, Emperor, the loss of Cesarea

Cries loudly for the blood of Malek Adhel.
Thy soldiers, too, demand that he who lost
What cost them many a weary hour to gain
Should expiate his offences with his life.
Lo! even now they crowd to view my death,
Thy just impartiality. I go!

Pleased by my fate to add one other leaf
To thy proud wreath of glory. [Going.]

Sal. Thou shalt not. [Enter Attendant.]

Atten. 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.

Nor think I, in this city's spacious round,

Can e'er be found a hand to do the office.

Mal. Ad. O, faithful friends! [To Atten.] Thine shalt Atten. Mine? Never!

The other first shall lop it from the body.

Sal. They teach the Emperor his duty well.

Tell them he thanks them for it. Tell them, too,

'That ere their opposition reached our ears,

Saladin had forgiven Malek Adhel.

Atten. O joyful news!

I haste to gladden many a gallant heart,
And dry the tear on many a hardy cheek,
Unused to such a visiter. [Exit.]

Sal. These men, the meanest in society,
The outcasts of the earth, by war, by nature,
Hardened, and rendered callous, these, who claim
No kindred with thee,- who have never heard
The accents of affection from thy lips, -
O, these can cast aside their vowed allegiance,
Throw off their long obedience, risk their lives,
To save thee from destruction! While I,
I, who cannot, in all my memory,

Call back one danger which thou hast not shared
One day of grief, one night of revelry.

"Brother!

Which thy resistless kindness hath not soothed,
Or thy gay smile and converse rendered sweeter,
I, who have thrice in the ensanguined field,
When death seemed certain, only uttered
And seen that form xe lightning rush between
Saladin and his foes, and that brave breast
Dauntless exposed to many a furious blow
Intended for my own, -I could forget
That 't was to thee I owed the very breath
Which sentenced thee to perish! O, 't is shameful!
Thou canst not pardon me!

Mal. Ad. By these tears, I can!

O, brother! from this very hour, a new,
A glorious life commences! I am all thine!
Again the day of gladness or of anguish
Shall Malek Adhel share; and oft again
May this sword fence thee in the bloody field.
Henceforth, Saladin,

My heart, my soul, my sword, are thine forever!

44. DAMON TO THE SYRACUSANS.- John Banım.

ARE all content?

A nation's rights betrayed, and all content?
What! with your own free willing hands yield up
The ancient fabric of your constitution,

To be a garrison for common cut-throats!
What! will ye all combine to tie a stone,
Each to each other's neck, and drown like dogs?
Are you so bound in fetters of the mind
That there you sit, as if you were yourselves
Incorporate with the marble? Syracusans! -
But no! I will not rail, nor chide, nor curse you!
I will implore you, fellow-countrymen,

With blinded eyes, and weak and broken speech,
I will implore you ·O! I am weak in words,
But I could bring such advocates before you!
Your fathers' sacred images; old men,

That have been grandsires; women with their children,
Caught up in fear and hurry, in their arms;

And those old men should lift their shivering voices

And palsied hands, and those affrighted mothers
Should hold their innocent infants forth, and ask,
Can you make slaves of them?

PART NINTH.

COMIC AND SATIRICAL.

• SPEECH OF SERGEANT BUZFUZ IN THE CASE OF BARDELL AGAINS? PICKWICK.-Charles Dickens.

You heard from my learned friend, Gentlemen of the Jury, that this is an action for a breach of promise of marriage, in which the damages are laid at fifteen hundred pounds. The plaintiff, Gentlemen, is a widow; yes, Gentlemen, a widow. The late Mr. Bardell, some time before his death, became the father, Gentlemen, of a little boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and tranquillity of Goswell-street; and here she placed in her front parlor-window a written placard, bearing this inscription, "Apartments furnished for a single gentleman. Inquire within." Mrs. Bardell's opinions of the opposite sex, Gentlemen, were derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. She had no fear, she had no distrust, all was confidence and reliance. "Mr. Bardell," said the widow, "was a man of honor,- Mr. Bardell was a man of his word, Mr. Bardell was no deceiver,- Mr. Bardell was once a single gentleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for protection, for assistance, for comfort, and consolation; - in single gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first won my young and untried affections; to a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let." Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature, Gentlemen), the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put the bill up in her parlor-window. Did it remain there long? No. The serpent was on the watch, the train was laid, the mine was preparing, the sapper and miner was at work! Before the bill had been in the parlor-window three days, three days, Gentlemen, a being, erect upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house! He inquired within; he took the lodgings and on the very next day he entered into possession of them. This man was Pickwick, Pickwick, the defendant!

Of this man I will say little. The subject presents but few attractions; and I, Gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, Gentlemer,

the men, to delight in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness, and of systematic villany. I say systematic villany, Gentlemen; and when I say systematic villany, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if ne be in Court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decent in him, more becoming, if he had stopped away. Let me tell him, further, that a counsel, in his discharge of his duty, is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put down; and that any attempt to do either the one or the other will recoil on the head of the attempter, be he plaintiff or be he defendant, be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson.

I shall show you, Gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued to reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and prepared it for wear when it came home, and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you that, on many occasions, he gave half-pence, and on some occasions even sixpence, to her little boy. I shall prove to you, that on one occasion, when he returned from the country, he distinctly and in terms offered her marriage: previously, however, taking special care that there should be no witnesses to their solemn contract; and I am in a situation to prove to you, on the testimony of three of his own friends, most unwilling witnesses, Gentlemen,—most unwilling wit nesses, - that on that morning he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing her agitation by his caresses and endearments.

-

And now, Gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have passed between these parties, letters that must be viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye, letters that were evidently intended, at the time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any third parties into whose hands they might fall. Let me read the first: "Garraway's, twelve o'clock. Dear Mrs. B.-Chops and Tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and Tomato sauce! Yours, Pickwick! Chops! Gracious Heavens! And Tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away by such shallow artifices as these? The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. "Dear Mrs. B., I shall not be at home to-morrow. Slow coach." And then follows this very remarkable expression,-"Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan." The warming-pan! Why, Gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere cover for hidden fire-a mere substitute for some endearing word or promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence, artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contempla d desertion? And what does this allu sion to the slow coach mean For aught I know, it may be a reference