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. Be less profuse of words, and name your wish;

If fit, its fitness is the best assurance

That not in vain you sue; but, if unjust,

Thy merits, nor the merits of thy race,

Cannot its nature alter, nor my mind,

From its determined opposition change.

. You hold the fate of my most lov'd of friends;

As gallant soldier as e'er fac'd a foe,

Bless'd with each polish'd gift of social life,

And every virtue of humanity.

To me, a savior from the pit of death,

To me, and many more, my countrymen.

Oh, could my words pourtray him what he is!

Bring to your mind the blessings of his deeds,

While thro' the fever-heated, loathsome holds

Of floating hulks, dungeons obscene, where ne'er

The dewy breeze of morn, or evening's coolness,

Breath'd on our parching skins, he pass'd along,

Diffusing blessings; still his power exerting,

To alleviate the woes which ruthless war,

Perhaps thro' dire necessity, heap'd on us;

Surely the scene would move you to forget

His late intent—(tho' only serving then

As duty prompted)—and turn the rigor

Of War's iron law from him, the best of men,

Meant only for the worst.

. Captain, no more.

. If André lives, the prisoner finds a friend;

Else helpless and forlorn—

All men will bless the act, and bless thee for it.

. Think'st thou thy country would not curse the man

Who, by a clemency ill-tim'd, ill-judg'd,

Encourag'd treason? That pride encourag'd.

Which, by denying us the rights of nations,

Hath caus'd those ills which thou hast now pourtray'd?

Our prisoners, brave and generous peasantry,

As rebels have been treated, not as men.

'T is mine, brave yeomen, to assert your rights;

'T is mine to teach the foe, that, though array'd

In rude simplicity, ye yet are men,

And rank among the foremost. Oft their scouts,

The very refuse of the English arms,

Unquestion'd, have our countrymen consign'd

To death, when captur'd, mocking their agonies.

. Curse them! (Checking himself.) Yet, let not censure fall on André.

O, there are Englishmen as brave, as good,

As ever land on earth might call its own;

And gallant André is among the best!

. Since they have hurl'd war on us, we must show

That by the laws of war we will abide;

And have the power to bring their acts for trial

To that tribunal, eminent 'mongst men,

Erected by the policy of nations,

To stem the flood of ills, which else fell war

Would pour, uncheck'd, upon the sickening world,

Sweeping away all trace of civil life.

. To pardon him would not encourage ill.

His case is singular; his station high;

His qualities admir'd; his virtues lov'd.

. No more, my good young friend: it is in vain.

The men entrusted with thy country's rights

Have weigh'd, attentive, every circumstance.

An individual's virtue is by them

As highly prized as it can be by thee.

I know the virtues of this man and love them,

But the destiny of millions, millions

Yet unborn, depends upon the rigor

Of this moment. The haughty Briton laughs

To scorn our armies and our councils. Mercy,

Humanity, call loudly, that we make

Our now despised power be felt, vindictive.

Millions demand the death of this young man.

My injur'd country, he his forfeit life

Must yield, to shield thy lacerated breast

From torture. (To .) Thy merits are not overlook'd.

Promotion shall immediately attend thee.

. (With contemptuous irony.) Par-