“The sword of heaven is not in haste to smite,
Nor yet doth linger.”

We have experience, we have beacons, we have landmarks enough.  We know what the past has cost us, we know how much and how far we have wandered, but we are not left without a guide.  It is true, we have not, as an ancient people had, Urim and Thummim—­those oraculous gems on Aaron’s breast—­from which to take counsel, but we have the unchangeable and eternal principles of the moral law to guide us, and only so far as we walk by that guidance can we be permanently a great nation, or our people a happy people.

Speech by MR. BRIGHT.

* * * * *

HYMN TO DIANA.

       Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
       Now the sun is laid to sleep,
       Seated in thy silver chair. 
       State in wonted manner keep. 
          Hesperus entreats thy light,
          Goddess excellently bright!

       Earth, let not thy envious shade
       Dare itself to interpose;
       Cynthia’s shining orb was made
       Heaven to clear, when day did close. 
          Bless us then with wished sight,
          Goddess excellently bright!

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver: 
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe how short soever;
Thou that mak’st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright!

BEN JONSON.

[Notes:  Ben Jonson (1574-1637), poet and dramatist; the contemporary and friend of Shakespeare, with more than his learning, but far less than his genius and imagination.]

* * * * *

       L’ALLEGRO.

          Hence, loathed Melancholy,
       Of Cerberus and blackest midnight born,
       In Stygian cave forlorn,
          ’Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights
               unholy! 
       Find out some uncouth cell,
          Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings,
       And the night-raven sings;
          There, under ebon shades, and low-brow’d rocks,
       As ragged as thy locks,
          In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 
          But come, thou goddess fair and free,
       In heaven yclep’d Euphrosyne,
       And by men, heart-easing Mirth;
       Whom lovely Venus, at a birth,
       With two sister Graces more,
       To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore: 

* * * * *

          Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
       Jest, and youthful jollity,
       Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,
       Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,
       Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek,
       And love to live in dimple sleek;
       Sport that wrinkled care derides,
       And laughter holding both his sides. 
       Come, and trip it, as you go,
       On the light