race, and threw himself with all his heart and soul into the cause of
Republicanism, and never slackened in his efforts till death took him
from his work. His noblest endeavors were directed toward the cause of
suffering humanity, crushed under the weight of despotism; and his
tuneful lyre was ever struck in behalf of the Goddess of Freedom, to
whom, in that soul inspiring "Ode to Liberty," he offers chaplets of
the most glorious verse to rouse the nations from their apathy. He has
given us his reflections on the English Revolution, when Cromwell
crushed royalty under his feet in the person of the tyrant Charles
Stuart, and which, notwithstanding, rose again to befoul, in the
profligacy and debauchery of the second Carolian epoch; on the French
Revolution, when an intelligent people drove out a brood of vampires,
who had drained the blood of France too long, to be replaced by
atrocious demagogues, hateful priest-ridden Bourbons and a Napoleon
Bonaparte, the wholesale Jaffa poisoner, on whose death Shelley wrote
lines pregnant with republican feelings:

"I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan
To think that a most ambitious slave,
Like thou, shouldst dance and revel on the grave
Of Liberty. Thou mightst have built thy throne
Where it had stood even now; thou didst prefer
A frail and bloody pomp, which time has swept
In fragments towards oblivion. Massacre,
For this I pray'd would on thy sleep have crept,
Treason and Slavery, Rapine, Fear and Lust,
And stifled thee, their minister. I know
Too late, since thou and France are in the dust,
That virtue owns a more eternal foe
Than force or fraud; old custom, legal crime,