Pain hath a wholesome office. Giddy Joy Deranges oft the mind's glad mustered force. In mourning mood the soul is at her best. Serenely then doth Sympathy enthrone Sweet Charity upon the judgment seat. My candid brother, if thy good right hand Become, through reckless, overgrasping use, Diseased, — offensive past medicament, — But ere insidious poison pulsing on, Enleavens dire destruction through thy frame, Some surgeons with unflinching nerve confront, Pounce on the inflated nuisance, cut it off, And then, with burning cautery applied Along the quivering, expiating flesh, Arrest the covert intercourse of death, Are not those faithful fortitudes thy friends? So were our trusty senators convened In conclave o'er the body politic; And searching with unshrinking scrutiny A member boasted to be Rome's right hand, Detected subtle symptoms moribund In its disordered, unrestrained outreach Usurping functions of the corporate whole. To amputate that hand incurable Was a most grievous duty to be done; But its behest the hero statesmen heard, Albeit bemoaned they the exigency. No less they cherished all the memories Of that hand's ministrations to the State; No less they listened to the whisperings Of private friendship's gratitude and grace; But louder came to patriot ears the call Of country. So the consequent response. There needs no prescience to forecast the doom Of commonwealth whenever government Becomes not by and for the people all. — Lo, Brutus now holds forth in yonder street! Go we and listen, for methinks he saith He loved not Ceesar less but Rome the more.
