formed; but its dictates are essentially the same in every age. The variations of which it is accused, will be found much less numerous, upon careful examination, than is generally imagined, or has been assumed for the purpose of establishing other rules, apart from, or opposed to, its sentence; and, wherever they do occur, they may be traced to other causes, (some of which we have enumerated,) than the natural imperfection of the standard.

We have regarded Relation as the basis, and Conscience as ' the law of morals. We have so called it, as the natural law, and the only natural law, we confess, which we have been able to discover; into which also the various systems of morals, modern, (expediency always excepted,) but especially ancient, are ultimately resolvable. Whether it be of itself sufficient, -whether, as a law of morals, it is wholly adequate, upon any admitted basis, to guide in every instance, is another question to be disposed of in a future discussion, when we shall inquire into the necessity of a revealed standard of morals. But every law must be supported, to render it effectual, by sanctions proportionate to its claims and prescriptions. The sanction of a moral law, supposed by conscience, and inseparable from relation, is responsibility. This is necessarily implied in the existence of a moral system. It is inseparable from the admission of the being of a God. If that Being supposes relation,-that relation, obligation,-that obligation, consciousness; by a parity of reasoning, that consciousness must imply responsibility. Those who wished to silence conscience, began, therefore, by denying responsibility; because the judgment was postponed, and sentence was not speedily executed against an evil work, they blotted futurity from their creed, and assumed that the sleeping thunders of heaven would never be roused. When the conscience was silenced, and the law neutralized by the absence of its just sanctions, relation was denied or trifled with; then came expediency,then Atheism, then anarchy, and then-all the horrors from which Europe is just emerging; a freedom from the last convulsive struggles of which, was purchased for the world by British blood shed on the eternal field of Waterloo.

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Responsibility is in precise proportion to all knowledge,— to that which is possible as well as to that which is actual. A man shall be judged not merely by that which he possesses, but by that also which he might have attained. Every advantage which has fallen within the range of his powers shall be taken into the calculation. We are responsible to each other for our social duties; this is the basis of human governments. We are responsible to conscience in cases to which human laws cannot, from the limitation of their nature,

extend. We are responsible to Deity, the concentration of all relations; and He who knows all things is alone the perfect judge of responsibility. Our relation to Him, the basis of morals, necessarily implying accountableness, is the most awful sanction of the law of conscience, every action lying uncovered, with all its intentions, before him; and that which, rightly considered, must prove the most effectual motive to morals, should, and will, properly followed, induce us to be sparing in our censures of each other. We shall judge nothing before the time.

Such is the system which I have ventured to submit to you. Relation, as the basis of morals; Conscience, as the natural law; and Responsibility, as the sanction of that law. What constitutes the difference between the pleasure which the philosopher feels, in comparison with that of the clown, in the contemplation of the starry heavens, but relation?-relation perceived by the one, and presenting an unity of design unknown to the other; in whom, therefore, no plan being apparent, the mere splendour of the scene excites but a faint and momentary admiration. To behold the magnificent field of heaven unmoved, is impossible; but he who is a stranger to the laws by which those glorious and stupendous orbs are governed-who has no conception of their relation to each other, -wanders over a wilderness of light, unguided to any useful result, and lost in the immensity of space. The astronomer, on the contrary, has grouped them into constellations, reduced the splendid confusion to order, ascertained their laws, and traced their relations. The heavens lie before him as an illuminated map; he ranges free, and satisfied, over the ethereal country, and sees in the harmony of all, no less than in the stupendous character of the parts, the wisdom and goodness, the eternal power and Godhead, of the Creator. To this Being we have led you as the Fountain of morals, as well as the source of creation. We have seen Him, seated on his throne of light, exalted far above human conception, or human praise, all parts of his moral creation moving round Him, each dependent upon Him, every one responsible to Him, the harmony of the parts, and the unity and stability of the whole, alike arising from

"Him first, Him last, Him midst-and without end."

THE BATTLE OF JENA.

GAUL'S victor Eagle now reposed;

His rage was cool'd, his wings were closed;
In peaceful slumber seem'd to lie
The latent terrors of his eye.

Lorraine had quail'd before his might,
Vanquish'd in council and in fight;
And buried in his waste of snow,
The hardy Russ, his stubborn foe,
Lay idly waiting for the day
To summon him to southern fray.
-War's pealing roll had sunk and died,
Like tempest on the mountain side;
His lightning flash had ceased to gleam
O'er dying field and crimson stream:
Europe had found a day of rest,

Though bearing many a rankling breast-
And who was rash enough to break
That welcome calm,-again to wake,
To dare the giant to his wrath,
To call him to th' embattled path,
Who often as provok'd, had hurl'd
Destruction on the hostile world?
Was it, when ev'n the highest bow'd,
And sunk defeated, weaken'd, cow'd,-
Was it for Brandenburgh alone
To brave the terrors of that throne,—
To rouse his rage, whose very frown
Could darken or o'erwhelm her crown!
Was it for her such strife to seek,-
The false, the fickle, and the weak ?
She, who had stabb'd her friends, to show
Her fealty to that master foe,-

She, who, with base and greedy guile,
Betray'd and plunder'd with a smile!
Cheating as that deceptive light,

That shows, to mock the traveller's sight,
A fancied stream on burning lands,
While thirst entombs him in the sands.
Bereft of honour, wisdom, strength,
Her weakness dropt the mask at length,
And left her naked to the view,
In all her dark and hateful hue.
She, who had idly slept, while past
The first fair period and the last,

She might have smitten on his way
That foe, and forced him from his prey,-
But then unmov'd, or smiling stood,

While earth was mark'd with flame and blood.

And did she deem her feeble brand Might stay, whom none could yet withstand? Alike in arms and councils vain, She did but blaze to sink again To deeper and more lasting gloom, A meteor flash above her tomb,That transient, fever'd flush of age, Her dotage deem'd the strength of rage: That boast was but an idle dream, And powerless as the wintry beam, That plays along the frozen snow, And dazzles where it cannot glow. Had she but shown that generous ire, That wrongs might waken, strife inspireAnd still have fall'n beneath the shock, Prone like some thunder-sever'd rock ; Thus ventur'd for herself,-for all,Some sympathy had mark'd her fall: But, for that burst of hollow pride, To madness more than sense allied, That glory never lighted there, She found no tear in her despair; Nor when, in ruin, forced to fly, Was sooth'd by one consoling sigh; But felt that cold and bitter smile, That marks the wreck of rashness, guile. As well the pert and froward boy Might dare the mailed breast annoy, As she, unaided, rise to throw Her feeble gauntlet at that foe, Whose iron hand had dash'd away

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The mighty thrones that check'd his sway;
Alas! she found, in desperate hour,

Nor pride was strength, nor madness power.

It was enough, the die was cast-
The storm was rais'd, and must be past!
Reckless she had provok'd that frown,
That never calmly melted down.

His sword was out, and she must dare
Its flashing, cleaving vengeance there!
Choice now she had not, but must meet
That wrath, from whence was no retreat.
Her armies gather'd with that show,
That might appal a weaker foe.

(Not such was he who hasten'd then'
To meet those lines of plumed meu ;
Far other enemy appear'd-

A foe who slacken'd not, nor fear'd-
One who had fought too much to show
Aught but a smile to such a foe,
Though he might shed a passing blow;)
From many a field they hasten'd there,
The great, the final stake to dare;
The line of feathers waved along,
Like flights of birds in countless throng:
Earth shook beneath th' unnumber'd feet
Of those who hurried death to meet ;
With all the blaze, the pomp, the glow,
That marshall'd hosts can feel or show;
The noise, the tumult, and the shout,
That mingles in an army's rout.
The banner'd eagle wav'd on high,
The rallying point to every eye;
The shrill-toned trumpet cleaved the air,
Unpractised yet to sound despair;
The drum, with "spirit-stirring" roll,
Pour'd its wild thunder on the soul;
While music fann'd the martial fire,
Whose magic might the cold inspire;
Breathing upon the wings of sound
Enthusiastic ardour round;
Rousing the pulse to fiercer play,
As forced its witchery to obey.
The swelling charger toss'd his head,
Tore up the ground with iron tread,
And roll'd around his large dark eye,
As if with thought elate and high,-
As though the very earth he spurn'd,
And breathing flame where'er he turn'd.
The glittering arms, in long array,
Seem'd in the light of heaven to play;
A moving line of fitful fire,
Portentous of the coming ire;
And in the distance sank from sight,
Like meteors down the verge of night.
And column after column past,
Till the eye sought in vain the last;
As waves, in ceaseless swell and roar,
Bound on like lions to the shore.
Enclos'd beneath their groves of steel,
In all the strength that numbers feel,
The fearful, in such mighty throng,
For once might feel in courage strong;
VOL. IV. PART 1.