The French had no commander to oppose to the two friends. Dupleix, not inferior in talents for negotiation and intrigue. to any European who has borne a part in the revolutions of India, was not qualified to direct in person military operations. He had not been bred a soldier, and had no inclination to become one. His enemies accused him of personal cowardice; and he defended himself in a strain worthy of Captain Bobadil. He kept away from shot, he said, because silence and tranquillity were propitious to his genius, and he found it difficult to pursue his meditations amidst the noise of firearms. He was thus under the necessity of entrusting to others the execution of his great warlike designs; and he bitterly complained that he was ill served. Among his officers there was not a single man of capacity; and many of them were boys, at whose ignorance and folly the common soldiers laughed. The English triumphed everywhere. The besiegers of Trichinopoly were themselves besieged and compelled to capitulate. Chunda Sahib fell into the hands of the Mahrattas, and was put to death, at the instigation, probably, of his competitor, Mahommed Ali. The spirit of Dupleix, however, was unconquerable, and his resources inexhaustible. From his employers in Europe he no longer received help or countenance. They condemned his policy. They gave him no pecuniary assistance. They sent him for troops only the sweepings of the galleys. Yet still he persisted, intrigued, bribed, promised, lavished his private fortune, strained his credit, procured new diplomas from Delhi, raised up new enemies to the government of Madras on every side, and found tools even among the allies of the English Company. But all was in vain. Slowly, but steadily, the power of Britain continued to increase, and that of France to decline. LORD MACAULAY. LOCHIEL'S WARNING. WIZARD. LOCHIEL, Lochiel ! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array! Oh weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead; LOCHIEL. Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer! Draw, dotard! around thy old wavering sight WIZARD. Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn ! Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth, From his home in the dark-rolling clouds of the north? Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high ! LOCHIEL. False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my clan, WIZARD. —Lochiel, Lochiel! beware of the day ; Now in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight: But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where? Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn, The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier; Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell! LOCHIEL. -Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale : For never shall Albin a destiny meet, So black with dishonour, so foul with retreat. Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe! Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame. WILLIAM PITT. T. CAMPBELL. AT the commencement of the Seven Years' War, a despondency without parallel in our history took possession of our |