Where art thou, Quintus Fabius? At my side, That there the empire of the world should be, Restrains thy tears. Entranced in silent grief, Nor ever more thine ear shall drink his words Romans, I do not seek, I do not wish to turn your pious grief To sudden fury. I will not disclose How black a crime has been committed. Never, Oh! never may ye know, that ye have lost Your father by a vile assassin's blow. People. Speak. We will know it all. Our limits will not permit us to pursue this scene any farther. The manner in which Opimius uncovers the corse of Scipio, and excites the people by the spectacle, and gradually works them into indignation and fury against their late idol, reminds us frequently of the funeral oration of Antony. The resemblance is however simply in the manner and the circumstances. In another drama Monti has not scrupled to adopt the ideas and language of Shakspeare. Just as the citizens have been led to the conviction that Gracchus was accessary to the strangling of his brother-in-law, Drusus enters, and informs the consul, that a bloody contest was taking place on the Aventine hill, between the soldiery and the people, who had been roused to acts of violence by the oratory of Gracchus. As he is describing the scene of confusion, which had taken place, Lentulus, a venerable patrician, is led wounded across the stage. The senators unite in swearing vengeance over the bier of Emilianus; and while a part of them escort the dead body to the tomb of the Scipios, the rest, conducted by Opimius, and followed by the inflamed citizens, rush to the scene of civil conflict. In the first scene of the fifth act, the forum is deserted, and Licinia appears alone, uncertain of her husband's fate, and distracted with apprehensions for his safety. Licinia. What melancholy silence reigns! Ah me! sved-W The streets deserted--I behold alone The wo-begone and horror-stricken faces I hear not, save the cries of mothers lone, The shrieks and sobs of desolate wives, who call 1 too am here a mourner, and demand From unrelenting heaven, the cruel one, to Who in my grief has thus abandoned me of Yes, thou art cruel, Caius! For thou couldest-Zavaw to unbeliv Thus vaunt? O never! Cor. Let the tyrant Caius. Quick then, oh my mother! A sword-thou hast it-give it me--and save me [Opimius enters, followed by the patricians and soldiers. Opim. Behold him against him let down your arms. [Cornelia throwing herself between Caius and the soldiers. Then through this bosom they must enter first, Ere they pierce his. Licinia. And through mine, ruffians, too. His head must be devoted. Strike! Cornelia. [veiling her head in her mantle with one hand, and with the other extending the dagger to Gracchus.] My son Take it, and die in honour. Caius. By this gift, Know thou thy son! (Stabs himself. Licinia falls senseless on his We have not attempted to introduce any versions of the powerful dialogues of this drama, as it would have protracted our remarks too far. The author has wisely put into the mouth of Opimius cogent arguments against the levelling principles of Gracchus; and though the whole interest of the drama centers in the latter, and his fate is brought on by the machinations of personal enmity, and arbitrary power, we cannot but regard him as a visionary, as well as a martyr. The unities are observed as strictly as they ever can be, without the violation of probability; and the principal characters are preserved throughout with the greatest precision and propriety; being, alike in their grandeur or their weakness,' veri, soli Romani.' LETTER FROM PAUL JONES TO THE AMERICAN COMMISSIONERS AT PARIS. Brest, May 27th, 1778. Gentlemen-I have now to fulfil the promise made in my last, by giving you an account of my late expedition. I sailed from Brest the 10th of April. My plan was extensive. I therefore did not, at the beginning, wish to encumber myself with prisoners. On the 14th I took a brigantine, between Scylly and Cape Clear, bound from Ostend with a cargo of flaxseed for Ireland, sunk her, and proceeded into St. George's Channel. On the 17th I took the ship Lord Chatham, bound from London for Dublin, with a cargo consisting of porter and a variety of merchandize, and almost within sight of her port: the ship I manned and ordered for Brest. Towards the evening of the day following, the weather had a promising appearance, and the winds being favourable, I stood over from the Isle of Man, with an intention to make a de scent at Whitehaven. At 10 o'clock, I was off the harbour with a party of volunteers, and had every thing in readiness to land; but, before eleven, the wind greatly increased and shifted so as to blow directly upon the shore:-the sea increased of course, and it became impossible to effect a landing. This obliged me to carry all possible sail, so as to clear the land and to await a more favourable opportunity. On the 18th, in Glenbue bay, on the south coast of Scotland, I met with a revenue wherry ;-it being the common practice of these vessels to board merchant ships, and the Ranger then having no external appearance of war, it was expected that this rover would have come alongside. I was, however, mistaken, for, though the men were at their quarters yet, this vessel outsailed the Ranger, and got clear, in spite of a severe cannonade. The next morning, off the Mull of Galloway, I found myself so near a Scotch coasting schooner, loaded with barley, that I could not avoid sinking her. Understanding that there were ten or twelve sail of merchant ships besides a tender brigantine, with a number of impressed men on board, at anchor in Loughryan in Scotland, I thought this an enterprise worth my attention; but the wind, which at the first would have served equally well to sail in or out of the lough, shifted in a hard squall so as to blow almost directly in, with an appearance of bad weather; I was, therefore, obliged to abandon my project. Seeing a cutter off the lee-bow steering for the Clyde, I gave chase in hopes of cutting her off; but, finding my endeavours ineffectual, I pursued no farther than the rock of Elza. In the evening I fell in with a sloop from Dublin, which 1 sunk to prevent intelligence. The next day, the 21st, being near Carrickfergus, a fishing boat came off, which I detained. I saw a ship at anchor in the road which, I was informed by the fishermen, was the British ship of war Drake of 20 guns. I determined to attack her in the night. My plan was to overlay her cable, and to fall upon her bow, so as to have all her decks open and exposed to our musketry, &c.; at the same time it was my intention to have secured the enemy by grapplings, so that, had they cut their cables, they would not thereby have attained an advantage. The wind was high, and, unfortunately, the anchor was not let go so soon as the order was given; so that the Ranger was brought up on the enemy's quarter at the distance of half a cable's length. We had made no warlike appearance ;--of course had given no alarm: this determined me to cut immediately, which might appear as if the cable had parted, and, at the same time, enable me, after making a tack out of the length, to return with the same prospect of advantage, which I had at the first. I was, however, prevented from returning; as I with difficulty weathered the lighthouse on the lee side of the lough, and as the gale increased. The weather now became so very stormy and severe, and the sea so high, that I was obliged to take shelter under the south shore of Scotland. The 22d introduced fair weather; though the three kingdoms, as far as the eye could reach, were covered with snow. I now resolved, once more to attempt Whitehaven ; but the wind became very light, so that the ship could not, in proper time, approach so near as I had intended. At midnight I left the ship, with two boats and thirty-one vo- lunteers. When we reached the outer pier, the day began to dawn. I would not, however, abandon my enterprise; but despatched one boat, under the direction of Mr. Hill and lieutenant Wallingsford, with the necessary combustibles, to set fire to the shipping on the north side of the harbour; while I went with the other party, to attempt the south side. I was successful in scaling the walls, and spiking up all the cannon on the first fort. Finding the sentinels shut up in the guard house, they were secured without being hurt. Having fixed sentinels, I now took with me one man only, (Mr. Green) and spiked up all the cannon on the southern fort, distant from the other a quarter of a mile. On my return from this business, I naturally expected to see the fire of the ships on the north side,--as well as to find my own party with every thing in readiness to set fire to the shipping in the south. Instead of this, I found the boat under the direction of Mr. Hill and Mr. Wallingsford returned, and the party in some confusion; their light having burnt out at the instant when it became necessary. By the strangest fatality, my own party were in the same situation, the candles being all burnt out. The day too came on apace; yet I would by no means retreat, while any hopes of success remained. Having again placed sentinels, a light was obtained at a house disjoined from the town; and fire was kindled in the steerage of a large ship, which was surrounded by at least an hundred and fifty others, chiefly from two to four hundred tons burthen, and laying side by side, aground, unsurrounded by the water. There were, besides, from seventy to an hundred large ships, in the north arm of the harbour, aground, clear of the water, and divided from the rest only by a stone pier of a ship's height. I should have kindled fires in other places, if the time had per |