"Once draw the sword; its burning point shall bring To thy quick nerves a never-ending sting; The blood they shed thy weight of wo shall swell, And their grim ghosts for ever with thee dwell. Learn hence, ye tyrants, ere ye learn too late, Of all your craft th' inevitable fate. The hour is come, the world's unclosing eyes Discern with rapture where its wisdom lies; From western heav'ns th' inverted Orient springs, The morn of man, the dreadful night of kings. Dim, like the day-struck owl, ye grope in light, No arm for combat, no resource in sight; If on your guards your lingering hopes repose, Your guards are men, and men you've made your foes; If to your rocky ramparts ye repair, De Launay's fate can tell your fortune there. No turn, no shift, no courtly arts avail, Each mask is broken, all illusions fail; Driv'n to your last retreat of shame and fear, One counsel waits you, one relief is near : By worth internal, rise to self-wrought fame, Your equal rank, your human kindred claim; 'Tis Reason's choice, 'tis Wisdom's final plan, To drop the monarch and assume the man."

"And didst thou hope, by thy infuriate quill To rouse mankind the blood of realms to spill? Then to restore, on death devoted plains, Their scourge to tyrants, and to man his chains? To swell their souls with thy own bigot rage, And blot the glories of so bright an age? First stretch thy arm, and with less impious might, Wipe out the stars, and quench the solar light : “For heav'n and earth," the voice of God ordains, “Shall pass and perish, but my word remains," Th' eternal Word, which gave, in spite of thee, Reason to man, that bids the man be free."

"But grant to kings and courts their ancient play, Recall their splendour and revive their sway; Can all your cant and all your cries persuade One power to join you in your wild crusade? In vain ye search to earth's remotest end; No court can aid you, and no king defend."

"Think not, ye knaves, whom meanness styles the Great, Drones of the Church and harpies of the State, — Ye, whose curst sires, for blood and plunder fam'd, Sultans or kings or czars or emp'rors nam'd, Taught the deluded world their claims to own, And raise the crested reptiles to a throne, — Ye, who pretend to your dark host was given The lamp of life, the mystic keys of heaven; Whose impious arts with magic spells began When shades of ign'rance veil'd the race of man; Who change, from age to age, the sly deceit As Science beams, and Virtue learns the cheat; Tyrants of double powers, the soul that blind, To rob, to scourge, and brutalize mankind, Think not I come to croak with omen'd yell The dire damnations of your future hell, To bend a bigot or reform a knave, By op'ning all the scenes beyond the grave. I know your crusted souls: while one defies In sceptic scorn the vengeance of the skies, The other boasts, — “I ken thee, Power divine, “But fear thee not; th' avenging bolt is mine." No! 'tis the present world that prompts the song, The world we see, the world that feels the wrong, The world of men, whose arguments ye know, Of men, long curb'd to servitude and wo, Men, rous'd from sloth, by indignation stung, Their strong hands loos'd, and found their fearless tongue; Whose voice of fire, whose deep-descending steel Shall speak to souls, and teach dull nerves to feel."

"In every clime, thy visage greets my eyes, In every tongue thy kindred accents rise; The thought expanding swells my heart with glee, It finds a friend, and loves itself in thee. Say then, fraternal family divine, Whom mutual wants and mutual aids combine, Say from what source the dire delusion rose, That souls like ours were ever made for foes; Why earth's maternal bosom, where we tread, To rear our mansions and receive our bread, Should blush so often for the face she bore, So long be drench'd with floods of filial gore; Why to small realms for ever rest confin'd Our great affections, meant for all mankind. Though climes divide us; shall the stream or sea, That forms a barrier 'twixt my friend and me, Inspire the wish his peaceful state to mar, And meet his falchion in the ranks of war? Not seas, nor climes, nor wild ambition's fire In nations' minds could e'er the wish inspire; Where equal rights each sober voice should guide, No blood would stain them, and no war divide. 'Tis dark deception, 'tis the glare of state, Man sunk in titles, lost in Small and Great; 'Tis Rank, Distinction, all the hell that springs From those prolific monsters, Courts and Kings."

"The gazing crowd, of glittering State afraid, Adore the Power their coward meanness made; In war's short intervals, while regal shows Still blind their reason and insult their woes."

"Hail Man, exalted title! first and best, On God's own image by his hand imprest; To which at last the reas'ning race is driv'n, And seeks anew what first it gain'd from Heav'n."

"Indignant Man resumes the shaft he gave, Disarms the tyrant, and unbinds the slave, Displays the unclad skeleton of kings, Spectres of power, and serpents without stings."

"GENTLEMEN: Before the Senate adjourns, I desire to return my thanks for the very kind and complimentary resolution unanimously passed on Saturday last, and to assure the Senate that so long as I shall have the honor of continuing Presiding Officer, my highest ambition will be to retain the personal regard and confidence of my colleagues. In pursuance of the resolution adopted on Saturday last, I now declare the Senate adjourned sine die"