“I sang of war—­but it was the war of freedom, in which death was preferred to chains.  I sang the abolition of the slave trade, that most glorious decree of the British Legislature at any period since the Revolution, by the first Parliament in which you, my Lord, sat as the representative of Yorkshire.  Oh, how should I rejoice to sing the abolition of slavery itself by some Parliament of which your Lordship shall yet be a member!  This greater act of righteous legislation is surely not too remote to be expected even in our own day.  Renouncing the slave trade was only ‘ceasing to do evil;’ extinguishing slavery will be ‘learning to do well.’  Again, I sang of love—­the love of country, the love of my own country; for,

            ’Next to heaven above,
        Land of my fathers! thee I love;
        And, rail thy slanderers as they will,
        With all thy faults I love thee still.’

I sang, likewise, the love of home—­its charities, endearments and relationships—­all that makes ‘Home sweet Home,’ the recollection of which, when the air of that name was just now played from yonder gallery, warmed every heart throughout this room into quicker pulsations.  I sang the love which man ought to bear towards his brother, of every kindred, and country, and clime upon earth.  I sang the love of virtue, which elevates man to his true standard under heaven.  I sang, too, the love of God, who is love.  Nor did I sing in vain.  I found readers and listeners, especially among the young, the fair, and the devout; and as youth, beauty, and piety will not soon cease out of the land, I may expect to be remembered through another generation at least, if I leave anything behind me worthy of remembrance.  I may add that, from every part of the British empire, from every quarter of the world where our language is spoken—­from America, the East and West Indies, from New Holland, and the South Sea Islands themselves—­I have received testimonies of approbation from all ranks and degrees of readers, hailing what I had done, and cheering me forward.  I allude not to criticisms and eulogiums from the press, but to voluntary communications from unknown correspondents, coming to me like voices out of darkness, and giving intimation of that which the ear of a poet is always hearkening onward to catch—­the voice of posterity.”

“FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND TRUTH.”

    When “Friendship, Love, and Truth” abound
      Among a band of brothers,
    The cup of joy goes gaily round,
      Each shares the bliss of others. 
    Sweet roses grace the thorny way
      Along this vale of sorrow;
    The flowers that shed their leaves to-day
      Shall bloom again to-morrow. 
    How grand in age, how fair in youth,
    Are holy “Friendship, Love, and Truth!”