Instead of the sun, there is the helmet of Darius, which shines like Phœbus himself, and at its top a gem of flame, obscuring the stars and yielding only to the rays of the sun; for, as much as it yields to the latter, so much does it…

Here the poet forgets the recorded excesses of his hero, with Thaïs by his side, and the final orgy, when the celebrated city was handed to the flames at the bidding of a courtesan; but he dwells on an incident of his own invention…

The name of the conqueror becomes a terror, and other nations in this distant region submit voluntarily, without a blow.

Alexander avows that the world is too small for him; that, when it is all conquered, he will push on to subjugate another universe; that he will lead them to the Antipodes, and to another Nature; and that, if they refuse to accompany him…

Nature, indignant that a mortal should venture to penetrate her hidden places, suspends unfinished works, and descends to the lower world for succor against the conqueror.

To him the stranger appeals against the projects of Alexander, which extend on one side to the unknown sources of the Nile and the Garden of Paradise, and on the other to the Antipodes and ancient Chaos.

The universe is in suspense, not knowing to which side he will direct his arms.

And are we not told by an ancient, that it is something, in whatsoever place or corner, to have made one’s self master of a spot big enough for a single lizard?

And, believe me, in these serious days, I should have little heart for literary diversion, if I did not hope to make it help those just principles which are essential to the well-being, if not the safety, of the Republic.

Even justice may relent at the prompting of mercy.

Fail not, then, to cultivate the grace of clemency.

By example we are instructed; and from the great master of clemency we may well learn that the general welfare must not be sacrificed to this indulgence.

And also from the Divine Teacher we may learn, that, even while forgiving enemies, there are Scribes and Pharisees to be exposed, and money-changers who must be scourged from the temple.

But with us are Scribes and Pharisees, and there are also criminals, worse than any money-changers, now trying to establish themselves in the very temple of our Government.

It is not required that you surrender the Republic into the hands of pardoned criminals.

Clemency has limitations; and when it transcends these, it ceases to be a virtue, and is only a mischievous indulgence.

No pardon can be allowed to imperil the nation; nor can any pardon be allowed to imperil those rightfully looking to us for protection.

There must be no vengeance upon enemies; but there must be no sacrifice of friends.

Follow this rule, and the Republic will be safe and glorious.

But forgiveness of offences must not be a letter of license to crime; it must not be recognition of an ancient tyranny, and it must not be stupendous ingratitude.

There is a familiar saying, with the salt of ages, that is addressed to us now: “Be just before you are generous.” Be just to all before you are generous to the few.

Be just to the millions only half rescued from oppression, before you are generous to their cruel taskmasters.

Do not imitate that precious character in the gallery of old Tallemant des Réaux, “who built churches without paying his debts.” Our foremost duties now are to pay our debts, and these are twofold,--first, to the national freedman, and…

Better that they should wait than the general security be imperilled, or our solemn obligations, whether to the national freedman or the national creditor, impaired.

Especially are we bound, by every obligation of justice and by every sentiment of honor, to see that belligerent traitors, who have battled against their country, are not allowed to rule the constant loyalists, whether white or black…