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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ontario Readers: The High School
+Reader, 1886, by Ministry of Education
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Ontario Readers: The High School Reader, 1886
+
+Author: Ministry of Education
+
+Release Date: November 27, 2006 [EBook #19923]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONTARIO READERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, Suzanne Lybarger and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+=The Ontario Readers.=
+
+
+THE
+HIGH SCHOOL READER.
+
+
+AUTHORIZED FOR USE IN THE PUBLIC AND HIGH SCHOOLS
+AND COLLEGIATE INSTITUTES OF ONTARIO BY THE
+DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION.
+
+
+Toronto:
+ROSE PUBLISHING COMPANY.
+1886.
+
+
+
+
+_Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year one
+thousand eight hundred and eighty-six, by the_ MINISTER OF EDUCATION
+_for Ontario, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture._
+
+
+PRINTED AND BOUND BY
+HUNTER, ROSE & CO.,
+TORONTO.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The selections in the HIGH SCHOOL READER have been chosen with the
+belief that to pupils of such advancement as is required for entrance
+into High Schools and Collegiate Institutes, oral reading should be
+taught from the best literature, inasmuch as it not only affords a wide
+range of thought and sentiment, but it also demands for its appropriate
+vocal interpretation such powers of sympathy and appreciation as are
+developed only by culture; and it is to impart culture that these
+institutions of higher learning have been established.
+
+Experience has shown that it is from their ordinary reading books that
+pupils obtain their chief practical acquaintance with literature, and
+the selections here presented have been made with this in remembrance.
+They have been taken from the writings of authors of acknowledged
+representative character; and they have been arranged for the most part
+chronologically, so that pupils may unconsciously obtain some little
+insight into the history of the development of the literary art. They
+have also been so chosen as to convey a somewhat fair idea of the
+relative value and productivity of authorship in the three great
+English-speaking communities of the world--the mother countries, our
+neighbours' country, and our own.
+
+While a limited space, if nothing else, prevents the collection here
+made from being a complete anthology, yet it does pretend to represent
+the authors selected in characteristic moods, and (in so far as is
+possible in a school book, and a reading text-book) to present a
+somewhat fair perspective of the world of authorship. It may be said
+that, if this be so, some names are conspicuously absent: McGee,
+Canada's poet-orator; Parkman, who has given to our country a place in
+the portraiture of nations; William Morris, the chief of the modern
+school of romanticism; Tyndall, who of the literature of science has
+made an art; Lamb, daintiest of humorists; Collins, "whose range of
+flight," as Swinburne says, "was the highest of his generation." Either
+from lack of space, or from some inherent unsuitableness in such
+selections as might otherwise have been made, it was found impossible
+to represent these names worthily; but as they are all more or less
+adequately represented in the _Fourth Reader_, the teacher who may wish
+to correct the perspective here presented may refer his pupils to the
+pieces from these authors there given. It may be added, too, that
+the body of recent literature is so enormous, that no adequate
+representation of it (at any rate as regards quantity) is possible
+within the limits of one book.
+
+The selections in poetry, with but three necessary exceptions, are
+complete wholes, and represent, as fairly as single pieces can, the
+respective merits and styles of their authors. The selections in prose
+cannot, of course, lay claim to this excellence; but they are all
+complete in themselves, or have been made so by short introductions; and
+it is hoped that they too are not unfairly representative of their
+authors. In many cases they are of somewhat unusual length; by this,
+however, they gain in interest and in representative character.
+
+In some of the prose selections, passages have occasionally been
+omitted, either because they interfered with the main narrative, or
+because, as they added nothing to it, to omit them would be a gain of
+space. In most cases these omissions are indicated by small asterisks.
+
+All the selections, both in prose and in verse, have been made with
+constant reference to their suitableness for the teaching of reading.
+They are fitted to exemplify every mode of expression, except, perhaps,
+that appropriate to a few of the stronger passions. It is not pretended
+that they are all simple and easy. Many of them will require much
+study and preparation before they can be read with that precision of
+expression which is necessary to perfect intelligibility. The
+chronological arrangement precludes grading; the teacher will decide
+in what order the selections are to be read.
+
+The introductory chapter is mainly intended to assist the teacher in
+imparting to his pupils a somewhat scientific knowledge of the art of
+reading. Of course the teacher will choose for himself his mode of
+dealing with the chapter, but it has been written with the thought that
+he should use it as a convenient series of texts, which he might expand
+and illustrate in accordance with his opportunities and judgment.
+Examples for illustration are indispensable to the successful study of
+the principles described, and they should be sought for and obtained by
+the teacher and pupils together (whenever possible they should be taken
+from the READER), and should be kept labeled for reference and practice.
+If the application of these principles be thus practically made by the
+pupils themselves, they will receive a much more lasting impression of
+their meaning and value than if the examples were given to them at no
+cost of thought or search on their part.
+
+To the teacher it is recommended that he should not be contented with
+the short and necessarily imperfect exposition of the art of reading
+therein given. The more familiar he is with the scientific principles
+the more successfully will he be able to direct the studies and
+practices of his pupils. Works on elocution are numerous and accessible.
+Dr. Rush's _Philosophy of the Voice_ is perhaps the foundation of all
+subsequent good work in the exposition of voice culture. Professor
+Murdoch's _Analytic Elocution_ is an exhaustive and scholarly treatise
+based upon it, and to the plan of treatment therein fully developed the
+practical part of the introductory chapter has largely conformed.
+
+The pleasing task remains of thanking those authors who have so kindly
+responded to requests for permission to use selections from their works:
+to President Wilson, for a sonnet from _Spring Wild Roses_, and for _Our
+Ideal_; to Mr. Charles Sangster, for two sonnets from _Hesperus_; to Mr.
+John Reade, for two poems from _The Prophecy of Merlin_; to Mr. Charles
+Mair, for the scenes from _Tecumseh_; and to Professor C. G. D. Roberts,
+for _To Winter_.
+
+To Miss A. T. Jones, thanks are due for permission to use _Abigail
+Becker_, recently published in the _Century Magazine_. The heroic acts
+described in this poem seem so wonderful, so greatly superior to woman's
+strength, even to human strength and endurance, to accomplish, that were
+it possible to doubt its truthfulness, doubt one certainly would.
+Nevertheless the poem is not only strictly in accordance with the facts,
+it is even within and below them.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+_(The Titles of the Selections in Poetry are printed in Italics.)_
+
+
+  NUMBER.                   TITLE.                       AUTHOR.     PAGE.
+
+       I. King Solomon's Prayer and Blessing at the
+          Dedication of the Temple.                    HOLY BIBLE      33
+
+      II. Invitation.                                  HOLY BIBLE      39
+
+     III. _The Trial Scene in the "Merchant of
+          Venice."_                                    SHAKESPEARE     40
+
+      IV. Of Boldness.                                 BACON           53
+
+       V. _To Daffodils._                              HERRICK         55
+
+      VI. Of Contentedness in all Estates and
+          Accidents.                                   TAYLOR          56
+
+     VII. _To Lucasta, on Going to the Wars._          LOVELACE        61
+
+    VIII. Angling.                                     WALTON          62
+
+      IX. _On the Morning of Christ's Nativity._       MILTON          67
+
+       X. Character of Lord Falkland.                  CLARENDON       76
+
+      XI. _Veni, Creator Spiritus._                    DRYDEN          81
+
+     XII. _Lines printed under the Portrait of
+          Milton._                                     DRYDEN          82
+
+    XIII. _Reason_                                     DRYDEN          83
+
+     XIV. On the Love of Country as a Principle of
+          Action.                                      STEELE          83
+
+      XV. The Golden Scales.                           ADDISON         88
+
+     XVI. Misjudged Hospitality.                       SWIFT           93
+
+    XVII. _From the "Essay on Man."_                   POPE            96
+
+   XVIII. _Rule, Britannia._                           THOMSON        101
+
+     XIX. The First Crusade.                           HUME           102
+
+      XX. _The Bard._                                  GRAY           111
+
+     XXI. On an Address to the Throne concerning
+          Affairs in America.                          CHATHAM        116
+
+    XXII. From "The Vicar of Wakefield."               GOLDSMITH      127
+
+   XXIII. Meeting of Johnson with Wilkes.              BOSWELL        133
+
+    XXIV. The Policy of the Empire in the First
+          Century.                                     GIBBON         142
+
+     XXV. On the Attacks upon his Pension.             BURKE          147
+
+    XXVI. Two Eighteenth Century Scenes.               COWPER         155
+
+   XXVII. From "The School for Scandal."               SHERIDAN       159
+
+  XXVIII. _The Cotter's Saturday Night._               BURNS          171
+
+    XXIX. _The Land o' the Leal._                      LADY NAIRN     177
+
+     XXX. The Trial by Combat at the Diamond of
+          the Desert.                                  SCOTT          179
+
+    XXXI. _To a Highland Girl._                        WORDSWORTH     202
+
+   XXXII. _France: an Ode._                            COLERIDGE      205
+
+  XXXIII. _Complaint and Reproof._                     COLERIDGE      208
+
+   XXXIV. _The Well of St. Keyne._                     SOUTHEY        209
+
+    XXXV. _The Isles of Greece._                       BYRON          211
+
+   XXXVI. _Go where Glory Waits Thee._                 MOORE          214
+
+  XXXVII. _Dear Harp of My Country._                   MOORE          215
+
+ XXXVIII. _Come, ye Disconsolate._                     MOORE          216
+
+   XXXIX. _On a Lock of Milton's Hair._                HUNT           217
+
+      XL. _The Glove and the Lions._                   HUNT           217
+
+     XLI. _The Cloud._                                 SHELLEY        219
+
+    XLII. _On First Looking into Chapman's Homer._     KEATS          222
+
+   XLIII. _On the Grasshopper and the Cricket._        KEATS          222
+
+    XLIV. The Power and Danger of the Cæsars.          DE QUINCEY     223
+
+     XLV. Unthoughtfulness.                            DR. ARNOLD     227
+
+    XLVI. _The Bridge of Sighs._                       HOOD           234
+
+   XLVII. _A Parental Ode to my Son._                  HOOD           237
+
+  XLVIII. Metaphysics.                                 HALIBURTON     239
+
+    XLIX. _Indian Summer._                             LOVER          246
+
+       L. _To Helen._                                  PRAED          246
+
+      LI. _Horatius._                                  MACAULAY       247
+
+     LII. _The Raven._                                 POE            258
+
+    LIII. David Swan--A Fantasy.                       HAWTHORNE      262
+
+     LIV. _My Kate._                                   MRS. BROWNING  270
+
+      LV. _A Dead Rose._                               MRS. BROWNING  271
+
+     LVI. _To the Evening Wind._                       BRYANT         272
+
+    LVII. Death of the Protector.                      CARLYLE        274
+
+   LVIII. _Each and All._                              EMERSON        282
+
+     LIX. Waterloo.                                    LEVER          284
+
+      LX. _The Diver._                                 LYTTON         294
+
+     LXI. The Plague of Locusts.                       NEWMAN         299
+
+    LXII. _The Cane-bottom'd Chair._                   THACKERAY      306
+
+   LXIII. The Reconciliation.                          THACKERAY      308
+
+    LXIV. _The Island of the Scots._                   AYTOUN         315
+
+     LXV. The Gambling Party.                          BEACONSFIELD   321
+
+    LXVI. The Pickwickians Disport themselves on Ice.  DICKENS        327
+
+   LXVII. _The Hanging of the Crane._                  LONGFELLOW     336
+
+  LXVIII. Earthworms.                                  DARWIN         342
+
+    LXIX. "_As Ships, Becalmed at Eve._"               CLOUGH         346
+
+     LXX. _Duty._                                      CLOUGH         347
+
+    LXXI. _Sonnets._                                   HEAVYSEGE      349
+
+   LXXII. Dr. Arnold at Rugby.                         DEAN STANLEY   350
+
+  LXXIII. _Ode to the North-east Wind._                KINGSLEY       354
+
+   LXXIV. From "The Mill on the Floss."                GEORGE ELIOT   356
+
+    LXXV. _The Cloud Confines._                        ROSSETTI       359
+
+   LXXVI. _Barbara Frietchie._                         WHITTIER       361
+
+  LXXVII. _Contentment._                               HOLMES         364
+
+ LXXVIII. The British Constitution.                    GLADSTONE      367
+
+   LXXIX. _The Lord of Burleigh._                      TENNYSON       370
+
+    LXXX. "_Break, Break, Break._"                     TENNYSON       373
+
+   LXXXI. _The "Revenge"._                             TENNYSON       373
+
+  LXXXII. _Hervé Riel._                                BROWNING       378
+
+ LXXXIII. _Sonnet._                                    DR. WILSON     383
+
+  LXXXIV. _Our Ideal._                                 DR. WILSON     383
+
+   LXXXV. From the Apology of Socrates.                JOWETT         384
+
+  LXXXVI. The Empire of the Cæsars.                    FROUDE         389
+
+ LXXXVII. Of the Mystery of Life.                      RUSKIN         390
+
+LXXXVIII. The Robin.                                   LOWELL         397
+
+  LXXXIX. _The Old Cradle._                            LOCKER         400
+
+      XC. _Rugby Chapel._                              MATT. ARNOLD   401
+
+     XCI. _In the Orillia Woods._                      SANGSTER       408
+
+    XCII. Morals and Character in the Eighteenth
+          Century.                                     GOLDWIN SMITH  409
+
+   XCIII. A Liberal Education.                         HUXLEY         412
+
+    XCIV. _Too Late._                                  MRS. CRAIK     416
+
+     XCV. _Amor Mundi._                                MISS ROSSETTI  417
+
+    XCVI. _Toujours Amour._                            STEDMAN        418
+
+   XCVII. _England._                                   ALDRICH        419
+
+  XCVIII. _Rococo._                                    ALDRICH        420
+
+    XCIX. _Kings of Men._                              JOHN READE     420
+
+       C. _Thalatta! Thalatta!_                        JOHN READE     421
+
+      CI. _The Forsaken Garden._                       SWINBURNE      422
+
+     CII. _A Ballad To Queen Elizabeth
+          of the Spanish Armada._                      DOBSON         424
+
+    CIII. _Circe._                                     DOBSON         426
+
+     CIV. _Scenes from "Tecumseh."_                    MAIR           426
+
+      CV. _The Return of the Swallows._                GOSSE          437
+
+     CVI. _Dawn Angels._                               MISS ROBINSON  438
+
+    CVII. _Le Roi Est Mort._                           MISS ROBINSON  439
+
+   CVIII. _To Winter._                                 ROBERTS        440
+
+     CIX. _Abigail Becker._                            MISS JONES     442
+
+
+
+
+SHORT EXTRACTS.
+
+
+                FIRST LINES.                             AUTHOR.     PAGE.
+
+He that cannot see well                                BACON           54
+
+_Stone walls do not a prison make_                     LOVELACE        55
+
+When the heart is right                                BERKELEY        87
+
+_It must be so--Plato, thou reasonest well_            ADDISON         92
+
+_England, with all thy faults, I love thee still_      COWPER         154
+
+_Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast_       COWPER         158
+
+_Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us_                 BURNS          170
+
+_Life! we've been long together_                       MRS. BARBAULD  178
+
+_Rough wind, that moanest loud_                        SHELLEY        218
+
+_There is a book, who runs may read_                   KEBLE          233
+
+_There is no great and no small_                       EMERSON        245
+
+_Wellington, Thy great work is but begun_              ROSSETTI       293
+
+_Sacrifice and self-devotion_                          LORD HOUGHTON  320
+
+_Flower in the crannied wall_                          TENNYSON       366
+
+_It fortifies my soul to know_                         CLOUGH         369
+
+_And yet, dear heart! remembering thee_                WHITTIER       372
+
+_There is no land like England_                        TENNYSON       377
+
+_The Summum Pulchrum rests in heaven above_            CLOUGH         382
+
+Be of good cheer then, my dear Crito                   SOCRATES       388
+
+_What know we greater than the soul_                   TENNYSON       407
+
+_That is best blood that hath most iron in't_          LOWELL         411
+
+_Such kings of shreds have woo'd and won her_          ALDRICH        419
+
+
+
+
+INDEX OF AUTHORS.
+
+
+                  NAME.                               PAGE.
+
+ADDISON, JOSEPH                                         88, 92
+
+ALDRICH, THOMAS BAILEY                                419, 420
+
+ARNOLD, MATTHEW                                            401
+
+ARNOLD, THOMAS                                             227
+
+AYTOUN, WM. EDMONDSTOUNE                                   315
+
+
+BACON, LORD (FRANCIS)                                   53, 54
+
+BARBAULD, ANNA LÆTITIA                                     178
+
+BEACONSFIELD, LORD (BENJAMIN DISRAELI)                     321
+
+BERKELEY, BISHOP (GEORGE)                                   87
+
+BIBLE, THE HOLY                                         33, 39
+
+BOSWELL, JAMES                                             133
+
+BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT                           270, 271
+
+BROWNING, ROBERT                                           378
+
+BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN                                     272
+
+BURKE, EDMUND                                              147
+
+BURNS, ROBERT                                         170, 171
+
+BYRON, LORD (GEORGE GORDON NOEL)                           211
+
+
+CARLYLE, THOMAS                                            274
+
+CHATHAM, LORD (WM. PITT)                                   116
+
+CLARENDON, LORD                                             76
+
+CLOUGH, ARTHUR HUGH                         346, 347, 369, 382
+
+COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR                              205, 208
+
+COWPER, WILLIAM                                  154, 155, 158
+
+CRAIK, DINAH MARIA MULOCK                                  416
+
+
+DARWIN, CHARLES                                            342
+
+DE QUINCEY, THOMAS                                         223
+
+DICKENS, CHARLES                                           327
+
+DOBSON, AUSTIN                                        424, 426
+
+DRYDEN, JOHN                                        81, 82, 83
+
+
+ELIOT, GEORGE (MARIAN EVANS CROSS)                         356
+
+EMERSON, RALPH WALDO                                  245, 282
+
+
+FROUDE, JAMES ANTHONY                                      389
+
+
+GIBBON, EDWARD                                             142
+
+GLADSTONE, WILLIAM EWART                                   367
+
+GOLDSMITH, OLIVER                                          127
+
+GOSSE, EDMUND WILLIAM                                      437
+
+GRAY, THOMAS                                               111
+
+
+HALIBURTON, THOMAS CHANDLER                                239
+
+HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL                                       262
+
+HEAVYSEGE, CHARLES                                         349
+
+HERRICK, ROBERT                                             55
+
+HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL                                     364
+
+HOOD, THOMAS                                          234, 237
+
+HOUGHTON, LORD (RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES)                   320
+
+HUME, DAVID                                                102
+
+HUNT, LEIGH                                                217
+
+HUXLEY, THOMAS HENRY                                       412
+
+
+JONES, AMANDA T.                                           412
+
+JOWETT, BENJAMIN                                           384
+
+
+KEATS, JOHN                                                222
+
+KEBLE, JOHN                                                233
+
+KINGSLEY, CHARLES                                          354
+
+
+LEVER, CHARLES JAMES                                       284
+
+LOCKER, FREDERICK                                          400
+
+LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH                                336
+
+LOVELACE, RICHARD                                       55, 61
+
+LOVER, SAMUEL                                              246
+
+LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL                                 397, 411
+
+LYTTON, LORD (EDWARD BULWER)                               294
+
+
+MACAULAY, LORD (THOMAS BABINGTON)                          247
+
+MAIR, CHARLES                                              426
+
+MILTON, JOHN                                                67
+
+MOORE, THOMAS                                    214, 215, 216
+
+
+NAIRN, BARONESS (CAROLINA OLIPHANT)                       177
+
+NEWMAN, CARDINAL (JOHN HENRY)                              299
+
+
+POE, EDGAR ALLAN                                           258
+
+POPE, ALEXANDER                                             96
+
+PRAED, WINTHROP MACKWORTH                                  246
+
+
+READE, JOHN                                           420, 421
+
+ROBERTS, CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS                            440
+
+ROBINSON, A. MARY F.                                  438, 439
+
+ROSSETTI, CHRISTINA GEORGINA                               417
+
+ROSSETTI, DANTE GABRIEL                               293, 359
+
+RUSKIN, JOHN                                               390
+
+
+SANGSTER, CHARLES                                          408
+
+SCOTT, SIR WALTER                                          179
+
+SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM                                        40
+
+SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE                                 218, 219
+
+SHERIDAN, RICHARD BRINSLEY                                 159
+
+SMITH, GOLDWIN                                             409
+
+SOUTHEY, ROBERT                                            209
+
+STANLEY, DEAN (ARTHUR PENRHYN)                             350
+
+STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE                                   418
+
+STEELE, SIR RICHARD                                         83
+
+SWIFT, JONATHAN                                             93
+
+SWINBURNE, ALGERNON CHARLES                                422
+
+
+TAYLOR, BISHOP (JEREMY)                                     56
+
+TENNYSON, LORD (ALFRED)                366, 370, 373, 377, 407
+
+THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE                          306, 308
+
+THOMSON, JAMES                                             101
+
+
+WALTON, IZAAK                                               62
+
+WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF                              361, 372
+
+WILSON, PRESIDENT (DANIEL)                                 383
+
+WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM                                        202
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTORY.
+
+
+The ability to read well cannot be attained without much pains and
+study. For even a moderate proficiency in the art of reading two
+requirements are essential: (1) A cultivated mind quick to perceive the
+sequence of thoughts which the words to be read logically express, and
+equally quick in its power sympathetically to appreciate the sentiment
+with which the words are informed--the feeling, emotion, passion, which
+pervades them--but which they suggest rather than actually portray; and
+(2) a voice so perfected that its utterances fall upon the ear of the
+listener with pleasing effect, and so flexible that it can be managed
+skilfully to convey to him the full meaning and force of all the ideas
+and sentiments formally expressed by the words or latent in them. Of
+these two requirements the first is undeniably the more important; and
+that training in the art of reading in which the close, persistent, and
+liberal study of literature for its own sake has not proceeded _pari
+passu_ with the requisite exercises for the development of the powers of
+the voice and with the study of the principles of vocal interpretation,
+has resulted in a meretricious accomplishment of very illusive value.
+
+Nor will the special study and accurate mastery of a number of
+individual selections give that readiness of mental apprehension which
+is indispensable to a good reader. The ability quickly to recognize
+word-forms and to utter them with ease, to catch the drift of ideas, and
+to feel ready sympathy with change and flow in sentiment, is not to be
+had without a long course of wide and varied reading. No one can become
+a good reader by passing through, no matter how carefully, a set of
+reading text-books merely. Pupils should be encouraged to read for
+themselves. They should, of course, be guided in their selection of
+reading matter, and they should be helped to acquire a taste for that
+which is purest and most helpful in literature; but unless they form a
+_habit_ of reading, and of reading thoughtfully and with precision, they
+can never become good readers.
+
+In oral reading, readiness and accuracy depend largely upon the
+alertness and flexibility of the vocal organs, and to secure ease and
+excellence in the working of their delicate mechanism much practice is
+necessary. The pupil should persistently read aloud. A practice of this
+sort, watchfully pursued, with a reasonable degree of self-discipline in
+the correction or avoidance of errors, is helpful not alone in obtaining
+a mastery of the reading art, and in mental culture,--it is equally
+beneficial as a physical exercise. It will, however, be much more
+efficacious of good, both of mind and of body, if pursued in accordance
+with those principles of voice culture and of vocal interpretation,
+which experience and special study have established.
+
+But only a small proportion of all the reading that is done, is oral
+reading. It is _silent_ reading that is universally employed as an
+instrument of study, of business, of amusement. As a rule, however, very
+little provision is made for the acquirement of a facility in silent
+reading; this, it is thought, will result as a by-product of the regular
+training in oral reading. Almost the reverse of this is true. Ease and
+flexibility of articulation, quickness in catching the drift of ideas,
+and readiness in varying the tones of the voice in the utterance of
+words so as impressively to portray their latent sentiment,--all this is
+possible with those alone to whom difficult word-forms, complex
+sentence-structures, and the infinite variety and play of thought and
+emotion, are more or less familiar through such a wide range of reading
+as only the silent prosecution of it makes possible.
+
+The art of oral reading, however, though not so generally needful as
+silent reading, is still of great importance to everyone in respect of
+its practical utility simply,--though few of those whose duty it is to
+read aloud in public, do so either with accuracy or grace; as an
+accomplishment which may be used to give pleasure to others, it is, when
+perfectly possessed, not excelled by any other; so that as an
+acquisition which puts one in a position of vantage either for
+benefitting one's self or for bestowing delight or benefit upon others,
+it is worth every necessary struggle for its attainment.
+
+One of the most valuable results of oral reading when systematically
+pursued as a school study, is the effect which it has in improving the
+tones of the voice for ordinary conversation and discourse, and in
+securing some measure of orthoepy as a fixed habit of utterance.
+Conversational speech is notoriously slovenly. The sonority of our
+vowels is lost, and their distinguishing qualities are obscured;
+and with unnoticed frequency our consonants are either dropped or
+amalgamated with one another. Yet, while amendment in these matters
+is to be striven for, there is nothing that the teacher who wishes
+to establish habits of orthoepy has to be more watchful in guarding
+against, than bestowing upon his pupils an affected or mincing
+utterance, all the more ludicrous and objectionable, it may be,
+in that a certain set of words are pronounced with over-nicety,
+while almost all others are left in a state of neglected vulgarity.
+
+Too frequently the study of oral reading is pursued with reference
+solely to the prospective public use of the art in the declamation of
+prepared passages; and the elocution-master's science has been brought
+into some discredit by wide discrepancies between the performances of
+his pupils in their well-drilled and often hackneyed selections and
+their ability to read unfamiliar pieces at sight. It is quite true that
+voice culture is greatly aided by the close study and frequent rendering
+of selections suitably chosen for the elocutionary difficulties which
+they present; but it should never be forgotten that good reading, the
+sort of reading which the schoolmaster should above all else endeavor to
+make his pupils proficient in, implies the ability so to read a plain
+account, a story, an oration, a play, or what not, _at sight_, with
+absolute correctness as to pronunciation, with such clearness of
+articulation and appropriateness of sentence utterance as will make it
+perfectly audible and intelligible to one's auditors, and with such
+suitable and impressive intonations as will put them in full possession
+of those emotions which may be said to be the essence or spirit of the
+piece;--and, moreover, to do all this with pleasure to one's hearers and
+with ease to one's self. Now as comparatively few readers are ever
+required to read in public, and as in the home-circle everyone ought to
+read, it is plain that the first duty of the teacher of elocution is to
+develop in his pupils a mastery of such a style of reading as is
+appropriate to small audiences; and, _then_, if he have time and
+opportunity, to extend and amplify the practice of his art so as to fit
+such as are capable of fuller mastery of it to appear before greater
+audiences. For though all voices are capable of being much improved
+through cultivation, few only can be adapted to the requirements of
+a large auditorium; and the care and attention which should be devoted
+to the benefit of all should not be spent for the advantage merely of
+the few.
+
+And moreover, those practices and studies which voice culture and the
+attainment of a knowledge of the principles of vocal interpretation
+demand, may be pursued by all in common. That alone which is necessary
+for the public reader or orator, is a more extended, and, perhaps, a
+more earnest and thoughtful practice.
+
+Although practices for the improvement of the voice cannot proceed far
+without attention to the principles of vocal interpretation, and though
+the study of the latter necessarily includes the former, yet for the
+sake of clearness the elementary principles of voice culture may be
+discussed separately from their application in the interpretation of
+thought and sentiment.
+
+With respect both to articulation and expression _the generic properties
+of the voice are five_, namely: _Quality_, _Pitch_, _Force_, _Time_,
+_Abruptness_. Of these properties there are, of course, many modes or
+degrees, but the voice must, in every tone that it utters, manifest
+itself in some mode or other of each; and it is the possibility of
+infinite choice in the ways of combining the modes that gives to vocal
+expression its infinite possibility of variety. The principles of voice
+culture will be best understood, however, if these properties be
+considered separately.
+
+=Quality= has reference to the _kind_ of the voice in respect of its
+smoothness or roughness, sonority or thinness, musicalness or harshness;
+also in respect of the completeness of its vocality.
+
+=Pitch= has reference to the degree of elevation or depression in what
+is called in music the _scale_. It may be used specifically, in
+reference to single tones or syllables (either as to their opening, or
+as to their whole utterance), or generally, as descriptive of the
+prevailing tone or note which the voice assumes in reading a sentence or
+passage.
+
+=Force= has reference to the power or intensity with which the sounds of
+the voice are uttered. When force is used in the utterance of single
+syllables, in whole or in part, it is spoken of as =Stress=.
+
+=Time= is rate of utterance. It is used with reference both to single
+syllables, and to phrases, sentences, and passages. In regard to single
+syllables it is sometimes called =Quantity=. In the consideration of
+time may be included that of _pauses_ and _rhythms_.
+
+=Abruptness= has reference to the relative suddenness with which
+syllables may be uttered. It may vary from the most delicate opening to
+a forcible explosion.
+
+Vocality depends upon respiration. All exercises, therefore, which are
+effective in increasing the vigor, freedom, and elasticity of the
+breathing apparatus, may be taken as initiatory steps in voice culture;
+and, in moderation, they should be practised continually. Full, slow
+inspirations followed by slow, and, as far as possible, complete
+expirations; full, quick inspirations similarly followed; full
+inspirations followed by sudden and forcible expirations; full, deep
+inspirations, followed by slow, slightly but distinctly audible
+expirations, as in deep sighing; these and similar practices may be
+pursued. What is to be aimed at is to secure complete control of the
+breath, especially to the degree that, with perfect deliberateness, it
+can be equably and smoothly effused.
+
+In all exercises where vocality is required it is best _first_ to use
+the sound of _ä_, as in _far_, for in this sound the quality of the
+human voice is heard in most perfection, and in uttering it the vocal
+organs are most flexible and most easily adapt themselves to change. It
+may be preceded by the aspirate _h_, or by some consonant, as may be
+thought necessary.
+
+In effective speaking or reading, _with respect to the abruptness and
+rapidity of expiration there are three modes of utterance_: the
+=effusive=, by which the voice is poured forth smoothly and equably, the
+=expulsive= and the =explosive=. Of these three modes the effusive is by
+far the most important, but the others, and especially the expulsive,
+have their uses also. These modes will be illustrated in the following
+exercise:
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. After a full and deliberate inspiration let the
+    expiration of the element _h_ be gently effected, until the
+    lungs are exhausted--the aspiration coming from the very depths
+    of the throat. Let this be repeated with the syllable _häh_,
+    audibly whispered. This is _effusive_ utterance.
+
+    2. After a full and deliberate inspiration let the expiration of
+    the element _h_ be suddenly effected, the expiration being
+    continued until the whispering sound vanishes in the bottom of
+    the throat. Let this be repeated with the syllable _häh_,
+    audibly whispered. This is _expulsive_ utterance.
+
+    3. Let the exercise be the same as in (2) except that the
+    expiration is to be much more forcibly effected, and completed
+    almost instantaneously. This is _explosive_ utterance.
+
+In the cultivation of the voice either one of two ends is generally kept
+in view--its improvement for speaking or its improvement for singing;
+but progress may be made towards both ends by the same study, and those
+exercises which benefit the singing voice benefit the speaking voice,
+and _vice versa_. _The distinction between speaking tones and singing
+tones should be clearly understood._ Musical tones are produced by
+isochronous (equal-timed) vibrations of the vocal organs continued for
+some length of time. Hence, a musical tone is a _note_, which may be
+prolonged at will without varying in pitch, either up or down. A
+speaking tone, on the contrary, is produced by vibrations which are not
+isochronous; it is not a _note_, properly so called, and can not be
+prolonged, without varying in pitch. Musical tones are _discrete_,--the
+voice passes from pitch to pitch through the intervals silently. In
+speaking, _every_ tone, however short the time taken in uttering it,
+passes from one pitch to some other through an interval _concretely_,
+that is, with continuous vocality; though, with respect to one another,
+speech syllables, like notes in music, are discrete. This may be
+exemplified by uttering the words, "_Where are you going?_" In singing
+these words, they may be uttered on the same note, or on different
+notes, or, indeed, with different notes for the same word; but the voice
+_skips_ from note to note through the intervals. In speaking the words,
+each is uttered with an inflection or intonation in which the voice
+varies in pitch, but passes through the interval concretely; the
+separate words, however, and the separate syllables (if there were any)
+being uttered discretely. Musical utterance might be graphically
+illustrated by a series of horizontal lines of less or greater length
+succeeding one another at different distances above or below a fixed
+horizontal line. In a similar notation for speech utterance the lines
+would all be curved, to represent the concrete passage through the
+various intervals. _It is the concrete intonation of every syllable and
+monosyllabic word which gives to speech its distinctive character from
+music._ Each syllable and monosyllabic word is called a =concrete=, and
+_it is with the concrete in all its various possibilities of utterance
+that voice culture has mainly to do_.
+
+The intervals traversed by the voice in uttering the concrete are very
+variable. Using the musical scale for reference it may be said that in
+ordinary speech they are generally of but one, or, at most, two notes.
+In animated discourse or passionate utterance the intervals may be
+greater. For illustration, let the pronoun "_I_" be uttered in a tone of
+interrogative surprise; a concrete with a rising interval will be the
+result. The more the surprise is emphasized, especially if indignation
+be conjoined with it, the greater will be the interval that the voice
+passes through in uttering the concrete. If the word "_lie_" be given
+immediately after the pronoun with the same intensity of feeling, the
+voice discretely descends from the high pitch heard at the end of the
+utterance of the pronoun, and in uttering the next concrete, again
+ascends through an interval, of less or more extent according to the
+emphasis which is imparted to it.
+
+Again, in speech of sorrow, murmuring, piteous complaint, and the like,
+concrete intervals of less extent than those used in ordinary discourse
+are often heard. Thus, if the sentence "_Pity me, kind lady, I have no
+mother_," be uttered with a plaintive expression, concretes with small
+intervals will be distinctly noticeable; but it will be also noticed
+that with respect to one another the syllables are discretely uttered,
+just as in the sentence where the concrete intervals were much greater.
+
+Without intending a scientifically accurate and rigid statement, it may
+be said (again borrowing the terminology of music) that in ordinary
+speech the concretes are uttered with intervals of a _second_, or at
+most a _third_; that in very expressive or impassioned utterance
+intervals of a _fifth_ or an _octave_ are frequently used; and that the
+mode of progression from syllable to syllable is _diatonic_, that is,
+not concretely, but discretely from tone to tone; and further, that in
+plaintive language, the syllables are uttered concretely with intervals
+of a _semitone_ only, but that the mode of progression from syllable to
+syllable is still discrete.
+
+Sometimes, but rarely, syllables are uttered _tremulously_, or with a
+_tremor_; that is, with constituent intervals of less than a semitone,
+uttered discretely in rapid succession, and passing, in the aggregate,
+through an interval of more or less width. An exaggerated form of this
+utterance may be heard in the neighing of a horse.
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. Utter the syllable _pä_ as a concrete, with rising
+    and falling intervals, severally, of a _second_, _third_,
+    _fifth_, and an _octave_; also with intervals of a _semitone_;
+    also with a _tremor_. Let the exercise be varied so as to
+    include many degrees of initial pitch. Use a diagram of a
+    musical staff for reference.
+
+    2. Read with exaggerated impressiveness, "_Am_ =I= _to be your
+    slave?_ =No!="
+
+In the pronunciation of the letter [=a], as in _pate_, two sounds are
+heard: the first is that of the name of the letter, which is uttered
+with some degree of fulness; the second is that of _[=e]_ in _mete_,
+but, as it were, tapering and vanishing;--in the meantime the voice
+traverses a rising interval of one tone, that is, of a second. The
+utterance of these two sounds, although the sounds themselves are
+distinct, is completely continuous, from the full opening of the one to
+the vanishing close of the other, and it is impossible to say where the
+first ends and where the last begins. It is essential, however, to
+consider them separately. The first is called the =radical movement=,
+and the second the =vanishing movement=; and these together constitute
+the entire concrete.
+
+All the vowels do not equally well exemplify in their utterance a
+_distinction of sound_ in their radical and vanishing movements, because
+some vowel sounds are less diphthongal than others, and some, again, are
+pure monophthongs; but _these two movements and the concrete variation
+of pitch, the result of one impulse of the voice, are the essential
+structure of every syllable_, and are characteristic of speech-notes as
+contradistinguished from those of song.
+
+When the radical and vanishing movements are effected smoothly,
+distinctly, and without intensity or emotion, commencing fully and with
+some abruptness, and terminating gently and almost inaudibly, the result
+is the =equable concrete=. This of course may be produced with
+intervals, either upward or downward, of any degree--tone, semitone,
+third, fifth, or octave. It must be said, however, that some syllables,
+and even some vowels, lend themselves more easily than others to that
+prolonged utterance which is essential to the production of wide
+intervals and the perfectness of the vanishing movement.
+
+The equable concrete is the natural, simple mode of utterance; but under
+the influence of interest, excitement, passion, and so on, the utterance
+of the concrete may be greatly varied from this by means of _stress_, or
+force applied to some part or to all of its extent. The different
+variations may be described as follows:
+
+(1) =Radical Stress=, where force is applied to the opening of the
+concrete. (It should be said that a slight degree of radical stress is
+given even in the equable concrete, producing its full, clear opening.)
+
+(2) =Loud Concrete=, where force is applied throughout the whole
+concrete, the proportion of the radical to the vanish remaining
+unaltered.
+
+(3) =Median Stress=, where force is applied to the middle of the
+concrete, producing a swell, or impressive fulness.
+
+(4) =Compound Stress=, where force is applied in an unusual degree
+to each extremity of the concrete.
+
+(5) =Final Stress=, where force is applied to the end of the concrete,
+the radical stress being somewhat diminished in fulness.
+
+(6) =Thorough Stress=, where force is so applied that the concrete has
+the same fulness throughout.
+
+    EXERCISE.--With the syllable _pä_ exemplify the _equable
+    concrete_ and the several varieties of _stress_, using different
+    degrees of initial or radical pitch, and the various intervals
+    of the tone, semitone, third, fifth, and octave. The exercises
+    for the radical stress should be first aspirated, then repeated
+    with full vocality.
+
+Besides the forms of the simple rising and falling intervals in which
+the concrete is generally uttered, there is another form, called the
+=wave=, effected by a union of these modes. It is of two varieties: (1)
+where a rising movement is continued into a falling movement, called the
+=direct wave=; (2) where a falling movement is continued into a rising
+movement, called the =inverted wave=. Waves may pass through all
+varieties of intervals, and may be either (1) _equal_, where the voice
+in both members passes through the same interval; or (2) _unequal_,
+where in one flexion the interval traversed by the voice is greater than
+in the other.
+
+    EXERCISE.--With the syllable _p[=a]_ exemplify the different
+    kinds of _waves_, with the same variations of radical pitch,
+    interval, and stress, as before.
+
+The elementary sounds of speech are of three natural divisions; the
+_tonics_, the _subtonics_, and the _atonics_.
+
+The =Tonics= are the simple vowels and diphthongs. They are of perfect
+vocality; they admit the concrete rise and fall through all the
+intervals of pitch; they may be uttered with more abruptness than the
+other elements; and being capable of indefinite prolongation they can
+receive the most perfect exemplification of the vanishing movement. They
+may be said to be: _[a:]_, as in _all_; _ä_, as in _arm_; _[.a]_, as in
+_ask_; _[)a]_, as in _an_; _[=a]_, as in _ate_; _â_, as in _air_;
+_[=e]_, as in _eve_; _[)e]_, as in _end_; _ë_, as in _err_; _[=i]_, as
+in _ice_; _[)i]_, as in _inn_; _[=o]_, as in _old_; _ö_, as in _or_;
+_[)o]_, as in _odd_; _[=u]_, as in _use_; _[)u]_, as in _up_;
+_[=o][=o]_, as in _ooze_; _[)o][)o]_, as in _book_; _oi_, as in _oil_;
+_ou_, as in _out_. (There are various ways of arranging and classifying
+these.)
+
+    EXERCISE.--Exemplify generally the equable concrete, loud
+    concrete, radical stress, and median stress, with upward and
+    downward intervals, with clear, sharp openings, and with
+    gradually attenuated vanishes, upon each of the _tonic
+    elements_.
+
+The =Subtonics= possess the properties of vocality and prolongation in
+some degree, but much less perfectly than the tonics, and their vocality
+(known as the _vocal murmur_) is the same for all. They are as
+follows:--_b_, _d_, _g_, _v_, _z_, _y_, _w_ (as in _woe_), _th_ (as in
+_then_), _zh_ (as _z_ in _azure_), j (as in _judge_, by some considered
+not elementary), _l_, _m_, _n_, _ng_ (as in _sing_), _r_ (as in _ran_),
+and _r_ (as in _far_). They can not, without great effort, be given an
+abrupt opening, and so are not capable of much radical fulness, but from
+their property of vocality they can receive, to a considerable degree,
+an exemplification of the vanishing movement.
+
+    EXERCISE.--Utter the word _bud_ slowly, and detach from the rest
+    of the word the obscure murmur heard in pronouncing the first
+    letter: this is the _subtonic_ represented by _b_. Utter this
+    sound with different degrees of initial pitch, and with
+    different intervals, both downward and upward. Produce as full
+    an opening of the radical movement as possible, but do not
+    attempt to give it much stress. Obtain in every case a distinct
+    vanish. Be careful not to convert the subtonic into a tonic.
+    Proceed in a similar manner with the other subtonics. Then,
+    distinctly obtaining the subtonics, unite them severally with
+    the sound of _ä_, first forcibly, then more gently, producing
+    such syllables as _bä_, _dä_, etc., which may be rendered with
+    upward and downward intervals, and with different degrees of
+    initial pitch. Finally, with such syllables as _äb_, _äd_, _äg_,
+    _äv_, etc., exemplify all the varieties of stress.
+
+The =Atonics= correspond with the first eleven of the subtonics as given
+above, from which they differ almost alone in having _no_ vocality. They
+are _p_, _t_, _k_, _f_, _s_, _h_, _wh_ (as in _when_), _th_ (as in
+_thin_), _sh_, and _ch_ (as in _child_, by some considered not
+elementary).
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. Form a list of such words as _pipe_, _tote_,
+    _kick_, _fife_, _siss_, etc., and severally utter them slowly,
+    holding the final element for a moment, and then letting the
+    breath escape suddenly; then, holding the initial letter firmly
+    for a moment let it come forcibly against the sound of the
+    remainder of the word, producing an abrupt opening, and radical
+    stress of the vowel concrete. 2. Aspirate strongly the atonics
+    as given above.
+
+    EXERCISE RECAPITULATORY.--1. Produce the syllable _pä_ in an
+    articulate whisper in all the different varieties of pitch,
+    interval, and stress. 2. Repeat with such syllables as _paw_,
+    _pooh_, _p[=o]h_, etc. 3. Utter these syllables (1) expulsively,
+    (2) explosively, with varying intervals both upward and
+    downward, and producing distinct and clearly attenuated
+    vanishes. 4. Select some passage of poetry involving passionate
+    thought, and read in articulated whispers, with appropriate
+    intonations, somewhat exaggerated, it may be. Let the intervals
+    and stresses be slowly and distinctly given. 5. Repeat the
+    exercise in a half whisper. 6. Next read the passage over
+    several times in pure vocality, without exaggeration, increasing
+    the strength of the utterance until it is as full and ringing as
+    possible. Care must be taken that the utterance is in reality
+    full and ringing, not sharp and hard. Let the pitch chosen be
+    not too high--as low as possible; and let the tones come mainly
+    from the chest and lower part of the throat.
+
+NOTE.--In all the exercises care should be taken that they be performed
+easily and naturally, with perfect deliberation and without undue force;
+else they will be harmful rather than useful.
+
+    EXERCISE IN CONCRETE INTERVALS CONTINUED.--1. Read with
+    appropriate intonations: "_Did you say [a:], as in all?_"--"_No,
+    I said ä, as in arm_,"--producing in the emphatic syllables
+    suitable rising or falling intervals of _one tone_. Then repeat,
+    but with greater emphasis, producing intervals of a third, a
+    fifth, or an octave. Vary the sentences so as to include all the
+    tonic elements. 2. With each tonic element, severally, produce
+    first a rising and then a falling interval, each of a tone; then
+    intervals of a third, a fifth, and an octave. 3. Extend the
+    exercise so as to produce with each element, and with all the
+    various intervals, a series or succession of rising and falling
+    intervals, thus: _rising, falling, rising, falling_, etc. Use
+    the blackboard and the musical scale for illustration and
+    reference.
+
+Syllables vary greatly in their capacity for prolongation, and in this
+respect are classified into _immutable_, _mutable_, and _indefinite_.
+
+=Immutable Syllables= are almost incapable of prolongation; they are
+those which end in one of the abrupt atonic elements, _p_, _t_, _k_; as
+_tip_, _hit_, _kick_; or in one of the abrupt subtonics, _b_, _d_, _g_;
+as _tub_, _thud_, _pug_. Some syllables that so end, by virtue of tonic
+or subtonic elements which they may contain, are capable of _some_
+prolongation; for example, _warp_, _dart_, _block_, _grab_, _dread_,
+_grog_. These are called =Mutable Syllables=.
+
+=Indefinite Syllables= are capable of almost indefinite prolongation;
+they are those which terminate in a tonic, or any subtonic except one of
+the three abrupt subtonics, _b_, _d_, _g_; for example, _awe_, _fudge_,
+_hail_, _arm_.
+
+NOTE.--It must be remembered that when for the sake of exercise or
+effect syllables are extended in time, they must be so uttered that
+their identity is not impaired,--that is, their enunciation must be
+free from mouthing.
+
+As has been remarked before our pronunciation of vowels is notoriously
+careless; but by a little attention anyone can easily free himself from
+this reproach. Frequent practice in the accurate enunciation of the
+tonic elements as given above, and a habit of watchfulness established
+as to the orthoepy of those which are most easily obscured, in all words
+in which they occur, will soon secure, if not a resonant, sonorous
+utterance with respect to the tonic elements, at least a correct
+pronunciation. But the correct and distinct pronunciation of the
+subtonic, and especially of the atonic, elements, when they occur,
+as is so frequent in English words, in combination, is not so easily
+accomplished; and orthoepy, in this respect, as a _habit_, cannot be
+secured without great care and incessant practice. For example, the
+word _months_ is habitually pronounced by almost everyone as if it
+were spelled _munce_. The following list for practice will afford
+material to begin with; other lists should be prepared by the teacher.
+
+_Plinth, blithe, sphere, shriek, quote, whether, tipt, depth, robed,
+hoofed, calved, width, hundredth, exhaust, whizzed, hushed, ached,
+wagged, etched, pledged, asked, dreamt, alms, adapts, depths, lefts,
+heav'ns, meddl'd, beasts, wasps, hosts, exhausts, gasped, desks,
+selects, facts, hints, healths, tenths, salts, builds, wilds, milked,
+mulcts, elms, prob'd'st, think'st, hold'st, attempt'st, want'st,
+heard'st, mask'st._
+
+    EXERCISE.--Utter the words in the above list in distinct
+    articulate whispers; then with vocality, softly and gently.
+    Avoid hissing and mouthing.
+
+While, in reading, distinct enunciation is an excellence to be aimed at,
+yet the words of a sentence should not be uttered as if completely
+severed from one another. Every sentence falls naturally into _groups_,
+the several groups being composed of words related in sense; and for
+impressive reading the words of each group should be _implicated_, or
+tied together. For example, in the line, _Once upon a midnight dreary,
+while I ponder'd, weak and weary_, there are naturally three groups; in
+the line, _The quality of mercy is not strain'd_, there is but one. In
+these groups the terminal sound of each word is implicated with the
+initial sound of the succeeding word. If the terminal sound is a tonic,
+or a flowing subtonic, the implication consists of a gentle murmuring
+prolongation of the terminal element coalescing with the initial element
+of the next word; if the terminal element is a flowing atonic the
+prolongation will not be accompanied by a murmur; but in either case the
+vocal organs, while prolonging the sound of one word, prepare, as it
+were, to begin the next. If the terminal element be one of the abrupt
+subtonics the vocal murmur is difficult to produce, and in this case,
+and also when the terminal element is an abrupt atonic, there is a
+suspension of the voice for a time equal to that occupied by the
+murmuring prolongation in the other cases; but the organs keep the
+position which they have in finishing the one word until they relax to
+take position for the utterance, with renewed exertion, of the opening
+sound of the next.
+
+It must be added that this implication is not confined to the component
+words of a group; for the sake of impressiveness the groups themselves
+are often implicated,--but by suspension of the voice and a maintenance
+of the vocal organs in their previous position, before they suddenly
+relax to form the opening sound of the first word in their next group,
+rather than by the murmuring prolongation above described.
+
+    EXERCISE.--Read with suitable implication: (1) _O Tiber! father
+    Tiber! to whom the Romans pray, a Roman's life, a Roman's arms,
+    take thou in charge this day!_ (2) _But still the patriot, and
+    the patriot-bard, in bright succession raise, her ornament and
+    guard._
+
+The nicety with which implication should be effected depends, like
+exactness of articulation, upon the gravity, complexity, fervor, grace,
+beauty, or other distinguishing and elevated quality of the thoughts and
+sentiments contained in the words to be read. Common-place ideas are
+couched, as a rule, in common-place language, and require no nice
+discrimination of sounds, or other refinement of utterance, for their
+full rendering; but in true poetry and impassioned prose implication is
+no mean instrument of effectual interpretation.
+
+The speaking voice, like the singing voice, is capable of utterance
+through a considerable range of pitch--in highly cultivated voices, of
+three octaves; in less highly cultivated voices, of one octave; but for
+all voices, not perverted by bad habit, there are three or four notes,
+of moderate height, upon which utterance is most easy and natural, and
+most capable of great and sustained effort. These notes should be
+selected as the =normal pitch= of discourse.
+
+In speaking or reading, except in certain infrequent cases, the _whole_
+of the breath expired from the lungs should be utilized in producing
+=pure vocality=. Should any breath be spent in aspiration, or in
+hissing, or in guttural enunciation, the vocality is said to be
+=impure=. Impure vocality, it is true, has its own appropriate use, in
+the representation of certain emotional states of the mind. Pure
+vocality is heard naturally in the tones of children at play; but in
+adults, through carelessness or injudicious education, it is often
+wanting.
+
+The mechanism of the voice is very complicated and not thoroughly
+understood. It is a matter of common experience, however, that in the
+utterance of tones of low pitch, whether speech tones or musical, the
+voice seems to come from the chest rather than from the head; and, in
+the utterance of tones of high pitch, on the other hand, it seems to
+come from the head rather than from the chest; so that all tones are
+said to belong either to the _lower_ or _chest register_, or to the
+_higher_ or _head register_. As both chest tones and head tones may be
+obscured by impurities, and their resonance diminished or destroyed by
+defective enunciation, the pure, clear, ringing utterance of tones of
+both registers should be constantly striven for. The normal pitch of
+utterance, referred to above, should always be such that the tones
+comprised in it can be produced either from the head or from the chest,
+at will; but for sustained efforts, for the best effects both of reading
+and of oratory, the chest tones are much to be preferred, since, as
+compared with head tones, they are capable of being produced with
+greater resonance and penetrating power, and, for any considerable
+length of time, with greater ease to the speaker.
+
+All tones of the human voice, whether speaking or musical, whether of
+the head or of the chest, are spoken of as having =quality=, or
+=timbre=, and the term is also used more generally in reference to the
+whole compass of utterance. The quality of the voice is its most
+distinguishing characteristic, and it is upon its cultivation and
+improvement that the greatest efforts of the student should be spent.
+Pure voice is usually spoken of as being manifested in two qualities,
+the _natural_ and the _orotund_.
+
+=Natural Quality= may be described as a head tone to which some degree
+of resonance is given by the chest; but the brilliancy of its resonance
+is produced by its reverberation against the bony arch of the mouth. It
+may, of course, vary in pitch, but tones of low pitch that are intended
+to be impressive are most suitably rendered in orotund quality. In its
+perfect manifestations, the natural quality should be clear, ringing,
+light, and sparkling,--if it be possible to describe its characteristics
+by such metaphorical words.
+
+=Orotund Quality= is the result only of cultivation, but no speaker or
+reader can produce those finer effects which are the appropriate symbols
+of strong and deep emotion, whose voice cannot assume this mode at will.
+It differs from the natural mode in obtaining from the chest a greater
+supply of air, and a deeper and fuller resonance, and the reverberations
+seem to be against the walls of the pharynx, or posterior regions of the
+mouth, rather than against the palate, or upper part of the mouth. In
+fulness, strength, and ringing quality, it is superior to the natural
+mode, but not distinct from it; in clearness and smoothness it should be
+equal to it. As it befits a chest tone rather than a head tone, it is
+natural to utterances in medium and low pitch; but it must not be
+confounded with low pitch simply, nor must its characteristic fulness be
+taken for loudness simply. With the orotund, as well as with the natural
+quality, all the voice modes previously described may be conjoined.
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. With the syllable _häh_, make an expiration in the
+    voice of whisper, forcing slowly all air out from the chest.
+    Then give to this expiration vocality, producing the
+    reverberation far back in the mouth: the resulting utterance is
+    a _hoarse exemplification of the orotund_. With the mouth in the
+    position of a yawn, making the cavity of reverberation as large
+    as possible, repeat the exercise until the utterance can be
+    produced smoothly and without hoarseness. 2. Form similar
+    syllables containing other tonic elements, and make similar
+    exercises, taking care to produce a smooth, effusive utterance.
+    3. Select a sentence such as "_Roll on thou deep and dark blue
+    ocean, roll_," abounding in long open vowels and indefinite
+    syllables, and using suitable intonations read it in low pitch,
+    with full, resonant chest tones. Then gradually raise the pitch,
+    still obtaining the tones from the chest and uttering them with
+    full resonance. 4. With such syllables as _häh_, _you_, _now_,
+    _man_, _war_, _hail_, _fool_, practise in orotund voice the
+    various exercises for pitch, concrete intervals, waves, stress,
+    etc., previously suggested. 5. Read with feeling and appropriate
+    intonations selected sentences from compositions of elevated or
+    impassioned diction, as "Solomons's Prayer" (p. 35), "The Hymn"
+    (p. 68), "France" (p. 205).
+
+Of the various qualities (as they are called) of impure voice, the
+=Aspirate=, the =Sibilant=, and the =Guttural= are defined with
+sufficient clearness, by their names. Though these modes can be
+appropriately used only occasionally, nevertheless they are of great
+value to the reader, and the voice should be trained to assume them
+whenever necessary. Great care must be exercised, however, that
+impurities shall never be present as characteristics of _normal_
+utterance; this, whether from the head or chest, should be distinct,
+sonorous, and smooth, and should exhaust every particle of air expired.
+
+Another impure quality is the =Pectoral=, which is an aspiration
+produced, as it were, from the lowest cavities of the chest; and still
+another is the =Falsetto=, an unnatural voice, that seems to be produced
+entirely in the upper cavities of the head. The employment of the
+Falsetto at any time, either in speaking or reading, is of doubtful
+taste.
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. With the syllable _häh_ exemplify severally the
+    aspirate, guttural, and pectoral qualities, first with
+    insufficient vocality, then with sufficient. Exemplify the
+    sibilant impurity with such syllables as _pish_, _false_,
+    _traitress_, _miscreant_. In those exercises employ intervals of
+    varying lengths, different degrees of initial pitch, and the
+    several varieties of stress; and let the utterances be made
+    effusively, expulsively, and explosively. 2. Select appropriate
+    passages in "The Raven" (p. 258) for exercise in natural,
+    orotund, aspirate, guttural, and pectoral qualities. Read the
+    passages severally with appropriate intonations,--it may be
+    somewhat exaggeratingly. Then read the whole poem feelingly,
+    with appropriate, but not exaggerated intonations.
+
+So far, what has been said has had reference mainly to the cultivation
+and improvement of the voice, by the analogies and description of the
+various effective modes in which it can be manifested, and by the
+suggestion of suitable exercises for increasing its endurance, strength,
+flexibility, and resonance. It remains now to discuss shortly some of
+the principles of _vocal interpretation_,--that is, to discuss what
+modes of voice-action are appropriate to the representation of the
+various emotions which the wide range of literature presents to the
+reader.
+
+It must be said in respect of principles that only broad and easily
+verifiable ones are of use, and even these may be abused by a too
+rigorous adherence to them. The best rule that can be given, as indeed
+it is founded on a principle of widest application, is that laid down in
+the _Fourth Reader_:--_To give a faithful sympathetic attention to the
+full meaning and sentiment of what is read, and to manage the voice so
+as effectively to express this meaning and sentiment;_ since this will
+always ensure a certain measure of appropriateness, if not the full
+perfection of it. And it cannot be too much emphasized that even the
+fullest knowledge and most patient study can establish for the reading
+of any selection, or passage, or sentence, _none but general
+directions_, since the same words may very frequently be rendered in
+several ways, with differences of pitch, time, stress, quality,
+implication, and so on, but with equal effectiveness and equal
+appropriateness. And, on the other hand, any whole selection, even the
+simplest, is far too complex in its thought and sentiment to be disposed
+of in one general analysis, which shall predetermine the pitch, tone,
+and stress, and the prevailing width of the intervals, and the direction
+of the inflections; all these will vary from paragraph to paragraph, and
+from sentence to sentence, even from word to word. To sum up, it may be
+said that good reading demands as indispensable, quick-witted
+intelligence, ready sympathy, and a voice so trained as to be flexible
+and resonant; if the reader have this much endowment his reading will
+always be effective, and, moreover, appropriate and impressive.
+
+_All diction may be roughly described as exhibiting one of three states
+of feeling:_ (1) that in which feeling, as it is generally understood,
+is almost wanting; (2) that in which it is present in some considerable
+degree; (3) that in which the feeling is present in an extreme degree,
+dominating the ideas which the several sentences logically express. To
+the first division, which may be called the =diction of discourse=,
+belongs all language indicative of a quiet state of mind--formal
+statement, narrative, description, simple argument or reasoning: it is
+the language of all ordinary writing. To the second division, which may
+be called the =diction of sentiment or feeling=, belongs all language
+which indicates that the mind of the speaker, real or supposed, is in a
+state of moderate excitement; that he is interested in the relation of
+himself to others, and, consequently, in the effect of his utterances
+upon them; or that, subjectively, he is interested in himself: it is the
+language of admiration, reverence, awe, sincerity, dignity, of pathos,
+supplication, penitence. To the third division, which may be called the
+=diction of passion=, belongs all language expressive of deeper
+excitement and more vehement interest than that described as animating
+the diction of feeling: it is the language of earnest or anxious
+interrogation, of passionate ejaculation, of powerful appeal, strong
+accusation, and fierce denunciation; also, of contempt, derision, scorn,
+loathing, anger, hate, and so on.
+
+Voice, as we have seen, possesses five generic properties, pitch, force,
+quality, time, and abruptness; and, in every spoken word, it must assume
+some mode of _each_ of these properties, manifesting them in
+co-existence. This conjoint mode, or _vocal sign_, as it is called,
+should be the appropriate expression of the thought and feeling of which
+the word, in its place in the sentence, is the _graphical sign_. Hence,
+as each word in a sentence may be said to have its appropriate vocal
+sign, so each variety of diction may be said to have its appropriate
+vocal expression,--a latitude of choice in the constituent modes, and a
+consequent indeterminateness in the resulting expression, being, of
+course, always conceded.
+
+The appropriate vocal expression for the diction of discourse may be
+said to consist of the following modes:--normal pitch, simple
+intonations, and waves of a second, moderate force, the equable
+concrete varied by slight radical stress, in quality the natural mode,
+in abruptness sufficient sharpness of opening to effect clear
+articulation, and in time a moderate rate with effusive utterance.
+
+As the diction rises above this plain unimpassioned character, and
+becomes more and more informed with feeling and sentiment, the
+constituent vocal signs, and hence the whole vocal expression, become
+more and more expressive. In pitch there is frequent variation: in
+expressions of joy, astonishment, or for command, the voice assumes
+naturally a somewhat higher elevation; and with equal naturalness it
+descends below its normal level to utter the language of grave, solemn,
+and reverential feeling. Again, inasmuch as the interval of the second
+is the plainest and simplest within the command of the voice, in such
+diction as we are now considering, intervals of a third, a fifth, or
+even an octave, may be heard, both in simple intonations and in waves.
+Force, too, will not be unvaryingly applied, but will be greater or less
+according as energy or passion may demand. In stress the equable
+concrete will give place to the radical or to the final, to express
+energetic resolve; or, in the language of pathos, exaltation, reverence,
+supplication, and so on, to the median--the most effective of all modes
+for the expression of such deep feeling as is compatible with slow
+utterance. In time the rate of utterance will vary with the syllabic
+quantities, these being short and crisp in the language of vivacious
+conversation, but extended, and with distinct, attenuated vanishes, in
+grave and important monologue. In quality, whenever the diction,
+departing from its simple character, becomes pervaded by some deep
+emotion, the natural mode will give place to the orotund. And while
+effusive utterance is always the prevalent mode, it will give place to
+the expulsive mode or to the explosive, when energy of thought or force
+of passion requires it so.
+
+Thus, _as the diction rises_ from plain discourse to the language of
+feeling, _the appropriate vocal expression gathers intensity and becomes
+more varied_, assumes, as may be said, brighter colors and displays
+greater contrasts; and so, in the third class of diction, the diction of
+passion, it displays its intensest and most vivid modes--its brightest
+colors, its deepest contrasts.
+
+As it is in a general sense only, that diction can be understood to be
+referrible to three classes, so also, in a general sense only, can it be
+understood that any particular sentence or passage has its appropriate
+vocal expression. All that is intended is simply this: an analysis of
+the sentence, or passage, or selection, gives to the careful student a
+certain conception of the quality and intensity of the feeling or
+passion that pervades it; this is to be interpreted, as well as may be,
+by the most appropriate vocal signs possible--the whole constituting the
+vocal expression suitable to the piece. In respect to its pervading
+emotion, the selection will have what is called a =drift=, or general
+tendency, towards one of those states described as characteristic of the
+diction of discourse, the diction of feeling, and the diction of
+passion, respectively; and it is the business of the reader to watch for
+this drift, which of course may vary from passage to passage, from
+sentence to sentence, and sometimes from word to word, and to interpret
+it as best he may.
+
+To indicate what modes of voice utterance are naturally most appropriate
+to the expression of these various emotional states and drifts, it will
+be best to take up, one by one, the different properties of the voice,
+and the several modes in which they are manifested, and to state
+briefly, and in general terms, the emotional state or drift of which it
+is an appropriate expression. (With respect to quality and abruptness
+this will be sufficiently done indirectly.) The student then must for
+himself, if he wishes to apply these results to the reading of any
+selected passage, first by analysis ascertain what are the emotional
+states which it involves, what are its prevailing drifts, then in
+respect to each property of the voice choose the suitable mode for the
+interpretation of these several states or drifts, conjoin the selected
+modes into appropriate vocal signs, and with these form the vocal
+expression that suitably interprets the whole passage. _The teacher, or
+the teacher and student together, should select from the_ READER, _or
+elsewhere, sentences or passages that fitly exemplify the different
+modes; these should be written upon a black-board, or in some other way
+preserved, and be referred to frequently for practice both in voice
+culture and in vocal interpretation._
+
+
+I. PITCH. Pitch must be considered under three heads: first, as
+referring to the prevailing elevation of tone assumed by the voice in
+the reading of a whole sentence, passage, or selection, called _general_
+or _sentential pitch_; second, as referring to the degree of elevation
+assumed by the voice in the utterance of the opening, or radical, of any
+syllable, called _initial_ or _radical pitch_; third, as referring to
+the tone-width of the intervals in the utterance of the syllable
+concrete.
+
+=Sentential Pitch= in its various modes is descriptive of the general
+position in the scale taken by the tones of the voice in uttering a
+sentence or passage. It may be spoken of as _medium_, _high_, and _low_.
+=Medium Pitch= should correspond with the _normal pitch of discourse_
+previously described. It is natural to the expression of all
+unimpassioned thought, and also of all emotions, except the livelier,
+and the deeper and more intense. =High Pitch= and =Low Pitch= are only
+relative terms. They do not represent fixed and definite modes of
+utterance; and all that can be said is, that for the interpretation of
+what may be called the lighter feelings and emotions, such as
+cheerfulness, joy, exultation, interest, and so on, also for the
+expression of raillery, facetiousness, humorous conversation, laughter,
+and the like, sentential pitch of a degree somewhat higher than normal
+pitch is appropriate; and, on the other hand, for the interpretation of
+what may be called the graver and deeper feelings, such as awe,
+reverence, humility, grief, and melancholy, and the more impassioned
+emotions, as disgust, loathing, horror, rage, despair, as well as for
+the expression of all very serious and impressive thought, sentential
+pitch of a degree somewhat lower than normal pitch is appropriate. The
+degree of elevation and depression must be determined by the judgment
+and good taste of the reader; but it must be borne in mind that this
+degree may vary from passage to passage, and from sentence to sentence,
+and even from phrase to phrase.
+
+In every style of diction, no matter how unimpassioned it may be, there
+will be frequent changes in the train of thought, and frequent changes
+in the intensity of feeling; to represent these changes there should be
+corresponding variations, or =transitions in sentential pitch=. These
+transitions also serve another purpose, namely, to indicate an
+interpolated or parenthetical idea. In making transitions the voice
+follows the general law of all vocal interpretation; strong contrasts in
+thought and feeling are marked by transitions of wide intervals, and
+lesser contrasts by lesser intervals.
+
+_Transitions in pitch are naturally accompanied by corresponding changes
+in force, rate of utterance, and phrasing_; and, like all other modes of
+expression, these receive their color from the intensity of thought and
+feeling of which they are the symbols. For example, in the rendering of
+a parenthetical clause (since, as a rule, the thought expressed in the
+parenthesis is of less gravity than the thought in the main sentence),
+the voice will manifest itself in lighter force and generally in quicker
+movement, that is, in lighter, less contrasting colors; but whether the
+pitch be raised or lowered depends upon the sentential pitch appropriate
+to the main sentence,--it should be in contrast with that. And it may be
+remarked in passing, that the reading of the parenthesis should end with
+a phrase melody similar to that appropriate to the words immediately
+before the parenthesis, so that the ear may naturally be carried back to
+the proper place in the main clause for the continuation of the
+expression of the principal thought.
+
+=Radical Pitch=, that is the pitch with which the opening of a syllable
+is uttered, is, in respect of appropriate employment, the most important
+element of reading or speaking; but all that can be done here, is to
+call attention to this, and leave the student to exercise his taste and
+judgment in regard to its use. The importance of appropriately varying
+radical pitch so as to impart melody to continued utterance will be seen
+at once if a simple sentence (for example, "_Tom and Jim sat on a log_")
+be read, first in that monotonous voice (that is, with unvarying radical
+pitch) so often heard in the labored reading of improperly taught young
+children, and then with those appropriate intonations heard in animated
+colloquy. When properly rendered, even if read with but little
+animation, each syllable, or concrete, passes through an interval of a
+second, and the several syllables are discretely uttered; but the
+_radical pitch varies from syllable to syllable_, forming a diatonic
+melody. _For the rendering of any given sentence in appropriate diatonic
+melody, positive direction as to the order of succession in respect of
+radical pitch cannot be given_; the same words may be uttered with equal
+appropriateness in many varieties of melody. The ignoring of this fact
+has led to the most absurd pretensions.
+
+A group of two or three syllabic concretes is called a =phrase of
+melody=; and as phrases vary with respect to pitch, in the order of
+succession of the radicals of their constituent syllables, they receive
+different names: such as the _monotone_, in which the radicals are all
+on the same pitch; and the _ditone_ and the _tritone_, groups of two
+tones and three tones respectively, with radicals of different pitch;
+and, again, the concretes in these phrases may have upward or downward
+intonations: but fixed rules cannot be laid down for their use. The
+reader must bear in mind, however, that it is upon the tasteful use of
+phrases and cadences, that is, upon the tasteful employment of
+variation in radical pitch, that the melody of uttered language depends;
+and that if it be devoid of this melody, it is both wearisome and
+unimpressive to the hearer.
+
+The intonations of the voice must necessarily be through either rising
+intervals or falling intervals, and there is a generic difference in the
+meaning of these. =The rising interval= is heard naturally at the end of
+a direct question; that is, one to which "_yes_" or "_no_" is an
+expected answer, as "_Are you going home?_" The suspensive tone which
+the voice assumes at the end of the interrogation is indicative of
+incompleteness of thought; and _indication of incompleteness is the
+characteristic function of all rising intervals_.
+
+=The falling interval= is heard naturally at the close of a complete
+statement, as "_I am here_"; and hence, _words indicating completeness,
+positiveness, resolution, are appropriately uttered with downward
+intervals_. In effecting a downward intonation the voice operates in one
+of two ways: either the _weaker mode_, in which it descends from a
+radical pitch at or near the current tone to a lower pitch; or the
+_stronger mode_, in which it assumes discretely a radical pitch as much
+_above_ the current tone as the emphasis requires, and descends
+concretely either to the current tone or below it.
+
+As every sentence is more or less incomplete until the end is reached,
+_rising intervals are the rule in intonation, and falling intervals the
+exception_, and it is this infrequency of use which gives to the falling
+movement its value as a mode of emphasis. But where the emphasis is that
+of doubt, uncertainty, surprise, or interrogation, the suspensiveness of
+these emotional states is appropriately expressed by rising intonations;
+and hence, too, in all sentences in which the interrogative element is
+strongly present, the rising interval should characterize every syllable
+in it, and the sentences be uttered with interrogative intonations
+throughout. If in any such sentence, a particular word is to be
+especially emphasized, this is effected by giving to the word a low
+radical pitch and retaining the rising interval indicative of
+interrogation.
+
+=The width of the interval= depends, as is natural, upon the intensity
+of the thought or emotion of which the concrete is intended to be an
+expression. For example, suppose the statement, "=You= _are the
+culprit_," be answered by the surprised and indignant interrogation,
+"=I?=" The emphatic words here used may be appropriately uttered with
+intervals of a tone, a third, a fifth, or an octave, according to the
+emphasis supposed necessary.
+
+=The Semitone=, as has been said before, is an interval sometimes heard
+in language of distress, complaint, grief, sorrow, tenderness,
+compassion, pity. Occasionally it is introduced in diatonic melody as an
+appropriate emphatic mode of uttering a single word; as, for example,
+"_Other friends have flown before; on the morrow_ HE _will leave me_."
+At times diction may assume what may be called a _pathetic drift_, and
+for the suitable interpretation of this drift semitonic intervals may be
+used, and the mode of progression cease for a space to be diatonic and
+become semitonic, or _chromatic_, as it is called.
+
+=The Wave= is one of the most impressive of the elements of expression;
+but its proper use demands great flexibility in the vocal organs and a
+high degree of taste in the reader. Like all other unusual modes, its
+employment lends color and contrast to utterance; that is, it makes it
+more effective for the purposes of emphasis or distinction. The wave, as
+has been described, is a concrete with an upward and a downward movement
+united; but its last constituent is that which most affects the ear and
+leaves upon it the stronger impression, and hence, especially if it be
+given with a wide interval, _its dominant characteristic will be that of
+the second movement_; for example, if the second movement be upward, the
+wave may express interrogation mingled with surprise or scorn; if the
+second movement be downward, the wave may express astonishment mingled
+with indignation. The intervals which are given to the wave depend upon
+the diction to which it is applied. To express great surprise or
+vehement indignation it may sweep through a fifth or a whole octave. In
+these extreme modes _the wave frequently is given a wider interval in
+the second movement than in the first_, and its effect intensified by
+the appropriate use of stress, and (for the expression of such emotions
+as scorn, contempt, irony, ridicule, and so on) of the impure qualities
+of voice. When used with intervals of the second, the characteristics of
+direct and inverted forms lose some of their distinctness; but in this
+degree the wave is effectively used to put into relief occasional words,
+or, with median stress and long quantities, to give to the otherwise
+short and tripping character of the second a dignified and impressive
+effect suited to the rendering of all serious and important diction that
+is not impassioned.
+
+=The Wave of the Semitone= is generally employed when time, or syllabic
+quantity, is needed as an element in the expression of the language of
+complaint or pathos. The effect is much the same whether it be direct or
+indirect.
+
+=The Tremor= may be used to express grief, supplication, tenderness, in
+which the interval through which it ranges may be wide, or, for a more
+plaintive effect, be limited to the semitone. With constituent intervals
+other than the semitone (that is, of a tone or otherwise), and ranging
+through an aggregate interval of less or greater width, it may be used
+to express laughter; as, for example, in the utterance of the syllables
+"_ha_, _ha_, _ha_, _ha_, _ha_," which, when rapidly effected, resembles
+one syllable uttered with discrete intervals. Combined with stress,
+aspiration, and guttural vibration, in suitable modifications, this
+laughing tone may be made to express scorn, derision, exultation,
+triumph, and so on.
+
+
+II. FORCE. Force must be considered under two aspects: first, as to the
+_degree of its intensity_ in the utterance of syllables, words, phrases,
+and sentences; and second, as to the _form of its application in the
+utterance of the concrete_. When the term is used without qualification,
+the first of these considerations is intended; when the second is
+intended, force is generally spoken of as =stress=.
+
+_Force must be contradistinguished from loudness._ In mere loudness the
+vocal organs are comparatively relaxed--the intensity of sound being
+produced by the violent discharge of a great volume of air from the
+lungs. In forceful utterance the vocal organs are compressed and tense,
+and though the volume of air effused be small, the resulting
+sound-vibrations are strong, and distinct, and of penetrating power.
+
+In respect of intensity, force may be manifested in infinite variation,
+but the degrees usually spoken of are _very light_, _light_,
+_moderate_, _strong_, and _very strong_. As with all other modes, these
+degrees will vary from word to word, and from sentence to sentence; and
+great judgment and taste must be exercised in employing them, so that
+they appropriately represent the intensity of the thought and feeling of
+which they are to be the expression.
+
+=Moderate Force= is the natural expression of tranquillity, and,
+therefore, of all unimpassioned diction. As the diction becomes pervaded
+by the more positive emotions, the tones of the voice naturally become
+stronger. Certainty requires strong force with pure quality. So all the
+passions, the lighter as well as the more vehement, require the degree
+of force to be heightened: cheerfulness, joy, ecstacy, requiring force
+moderately strong; and anger, hate, terror, revenge, being suitably
+rendered by very strong force. Again, doubt, uncertainty, secrecy, as
+well as the gentler and more plaintive emotions, are most suitably
+represented by the lighter shades of force.
+
+As the voice assumes the intenser modes of force, the vocal organs
+become more and more compressed, and utterance is more and more labored;
+the breath forced out cannot all be vocalized; the voice becomes less
+and less pure, and manifests itself in the aspirate and guttural
+qualities. _Hence, strongly suppressed utterance in impure vocality,
+rather than mere loudness in pure vocality, is the appropriate
+expression for all the intenser passions._
+
+
+III. STRESS. Stress is force considered with respect of the form of its
+application to the concrete. Since the equable concrete is the natural
+colorless expression of unimpassioned thought, force applied to any part
+of it changes its character, and gives it a more or less significant
+emphasis. The three most usual forms of stress are the _radical_, the
+_median_, and the _final_; these may be effected in any of the degrees
+of force. _Compound stress_ and _thorough stress_ admit of but little
+variation.
+
+=Radical Stress=, to some extent an essential, but not an expressive
+element in the equable concrete, is, in a somewhat stronger form, an
+element in all utterance that is intended to be vivid and energetic,
+emphasizing these characteristics by its own incisive clearness. The
+more animated and energetic the diction the clearer and more determined
+should be the opening of the concrete, that is, the more distinct and
+forcible should be its radical stress; while in graver language the
+radical stress is less pronounced. In its emphatic degree it ought at no
+time to be allowed to become a current mode, imparting its peculiar
+incisive character to every syllable; though, for especial emphasis, it
+may be appropriately used in this way in the utterance of the several
+words of a phrase.
+
+=Final Stress= differs from radical stress principally in this, that
+while it equally indicates energy and positiveness, it does so as in
+accordance with predetermination and reflection. _Radical stress
+denotes, as it were, an involuntary state of energy; final stress, the
+energy or fixedness of resolve._ Hence, final stress is appropriate to
+the expression of resolution, of obstinacy, of earnest conviction, of
+passionate resolve. It emphasizes the characteristics of wide intervals,
+giving to rising intonations a more decidedly interrogatory character,
+and making falling intonations more vehemently and passionately
+positive.
+
+=Median Stress=, as it can be effectively applied to none but indefinite
+or mutable syllables, is compatible only with such a rate of utterance
+as will permit of these receiving long quantities. It may receive any
+degree of force, from that gentle swell which indicates a tranquil flow
+of emotion, to that firm and swelling energy which is the appropriate
+expression of the language of elevated feeling. With the wider intervals
+it should be used only for occasional emphasis; but in its lighter forms
+it may prevail as a drift of dignified expression. Median stress, being
+always necessarily associated with long quantity in syllables, is not an
+appropriate mode in the language of colloquy, or in vivacious discourse
+of any kind. It is, however, the fit interpreter of that fervid and
+lofty imagination which clothes itself in forms of grace and grandeur;
+and hence, with intonations and waves of the lesser intervals, with
+medium or low sentential pitch, a moderate degree of force, and the pure
+or orotund quality, it is the appropriate expression of all exalted
+prose and poetry, not strongly dramatic.
+
+=Thorough Stress= is effected by continuing the force and fulness of the
+radical stress throughout the whole concrete. Used as a current mode,
+which should be but rarely, it is expressive of bluntness, arrogance,
+bravado; and, with short quantities, of ignorant coarseness.
+Occasionally it may be used instead of final stress to give emphasis to
+a syllable whose vanishing movement is but little capable of receiving
+an increase of force.
+
+=Compound Stress= combines the qualities of both radical and final
+stress; it is therefore of extreme character, and can be only
+occasionally used. With wide intervals, in its stronger modes, it is
+expressive of the utmost intensity of feeling; in its lighter modes it
+is the natural expression of strong surprise.
+
+=The Loud Concrete= is simply the equable concrete uttered with greater
+fulness of breath and loudness of tone. It is used to break a current of
+light force for the sake of emphasizing some word or phrase; and, in
+impassioned discourse, it may be used as a current mode, individual
+words or phrases being then put in relief by receiving the forcible
+radical, or thorough, or compound stress.
+
+In reference to stress it must be remembered that, as with all other
+varieties of emphatic utterance, no one form should prevail as an
+exclusive mode. Even a prevalent drift of thought or feeling will be
+most effectively rendered by vocal signs which change in color and
+intensity from word to word. It must also be borne in mind in reference
+both to force and stress, and to pitch and time as well, that the modes
+which are employed must sustain a suitable relation to the situation and
+surroundings of the speaker. Where considerable space has to be filled
+and distance overcome, the energy of utterance should be correspondingly
+intense; but for great distances, what is called =level speaking= is the
+only effectual mode,--that is, speaking exclusively in those tones of
+normal pitch in which the voice has most penetrating power, with force
+of almost constant intensity, and in a somewhat slow movement with long
+syllabic quantities, but of course with as much needful variation of
+expression as is possible within these limits.
+
+
+IV. TIME. Time is rate of utterance. It comprehends _quantity_, or rate
+considered in reference to the duration of individual syllables; and
+_movement_, or rate considered in reference to the utterance of
+syllables and words in succession. With it may be considered _pauses_,
+or cessations of the voice, helpful in the expression of thought and
+feeling, and necessary to the working of the vocal mechanism.
+
+=Quantity=, as defined above, is an arbitrary thing, dependent almost
+entirely upon the will of the speaker. But many words and syllables are
+more expressive of their meaning when, in uttering them, the voice is
+somewhat prolonged,--hence _quantity is an element of expression_.
+Again, many words and syllables can receive this prolongation of
+utterance more readily than others,--hence _quantity is a natural
+element of spoken language_. As indefinite syllables are much more
+capable of prolongation than mutable or immutable syllables, they are
+said to possess long quantity, or, more shortly, "to possess quantity";
+mutable syllables possess quantity in a less degree, and immutable
+syllables are naturally deficient in quantity.
+
+As an element of expression, quantity (that is, long quantity) lends
+dignity and grace to the movement of the voice, and affords ground for
+the display of those expressive modes of vocal action which are
+incompatible with the rapid or ejaculatory utterance of the concrete;
+and hence, with median stress, the wave, moderate intervals, medium or
+low sentential pitch, it is used as naturally interpretative of
+solemnity, reverence, awe, deep pathos, ardent admiration, and all
+elevated emotion. Colloquial tones, excited argument, wit, raillery, and
+all the lighter emotions, require for their expression, brilliancy
+rather than grace, and so are more fittingly interpreted by short
+quantities and radical stress.
+
+The discerning reader, in his work of vocal interpretation, will not
+fail to take advantage of the inherent character of syllables with
+respect to quantity. Our language abounds in indefinite syllables to
+which he may impart whatever quantity he may desire. On the other hand,
+immutable syllables, while not admitting the wave and the median stress,
+are eminently fitted to receive the more forcible forms of radical
+stress; and mutable syllables, with their abrupt closes, permit of
+perfect exemplifications of thorough and final stress.
+
+=Movement=, though it depends for its slower and more expressive forms
+upon the capacities of syllables for the reception of long quantities,
+is, in its more rapid forms, quite independent of syllabic structure,
+and dependent only on the will of the speaker; hence it may be spoken of
+as being altogether under his control. A medium rate of utterance is,
+with respect to time, the natural expression of an equable flow of
+thought. The livelier emotions should be indicated by quicker rates, and
+hence, cheerfulness, joy, vivacious dialogue, animated narration,
+naturally find their expression in movements more or less brisk, with
+short quantities, varied intonations, and pitch higher than the normal;
+the more vehement emotions, eagerness, anger, excited anxiety, demand
+simply heightened forms of these modes. Contrariwise, thought of grave
+and meditative character, admiration, reverence, and all the deeper and
+calmer feelings, require a deliberative, slow-timed utterance, with long
+quantities for accented syllables, and extended time for even unaccented
+syllables. As these serious emotions become stronger and deeper, the
+syllabic quantities become proportionately longer, and with impressive
+median swells, orotund quality, low pitch, waves and simple intonations
+of the second, frequent phrases in monotone, and an occasional tremor,
+constitute the most impressive utterance of adoration.
+
+_Occasionally an abrupt change in quantity, or movement, may be employed
+as a mode of emphasis_, either positive or negative; for example, in a
+current of rapid movement, a word may be put into strong relief by being
+uttered with quantity much extended; contrariwise, a parenthetical or
+explanatory phrase is usually touched upon lightly and with a more rapid
+movement than that of the current in which it is found.
+
+=Pause= _may be used as an element in the expression of thought simply,
+that is, as a help to the interpretation of the mere sense of the words
+read_; or, _more emphatically, as an element in the expression of
+feeling and emotion_. As interpretative of thought, pauses should
+correspond mainly with the graphical marks of punctuation. Two things,
+however, must be borne in mind: _first_, the use of punctuation marks in
+writing and in printing is always more or less an arbitrary matter,
+scarcely any two authors agreeing in their employment of them; and
+therefore the reader's own good sense must be to him his principal
+authority as to the closeness with which he follows them: and _second_,
+pauses are to an auditor what punctuation marks are intended to be to a
+reader; but, whereas the eye may constantly keep within its vision the
+relation of each word uttered, both to those which preceded it and to
+those which are to follow, the ear hears the words that are read only
+_ictus_ by _ictus_, stroke by stroke, and therefore can not aid the mind
+to grasp this relation--the memory alone helping to do that; and hence,
+in reading, pauses should be more frequent, and perhaps more prolonged,
+than the punctuation marks might seem to necessitate. The reader should
+also bear in mind that even the plainest and simplest diction, or that
+requiring the most rapid utterance, may be so marked by appropriate
+pauses that those stoppages of the voice necessarily required for
+inspiration, shall never occur except when they assist to interpret the
+sense,--they must not interrupt it.
+
+As interpretative of emotion pauses do not necessarily correspond to
+grammatical structure; but, as with all the modes of expression
+previously considered, their frequency and length--their only
+modifications--must harmonize with the feeling which they are to assist
+in interpreting. In length, for example, they should correspond with the
+movement of which they may be said to form a part; when the movement is
+slow, as in the expression of awe, reverence, and the like, they are
+naturally long; in the brisk movement required to interpret the livelier
+emotions, they should be short. As a mode of emphasis pause serves to
+fix the attention of the hearer,--either _backward_ upon a word or
+phrase, that the mind may dwell upon it, or _forward_ to awaken
+curiosity and expectation: it is evident then that a frequent use of it
+for this purpose would destroy its value.
+
+_Pauses may be used in reading to simulate an appropriate labor of
+utterance_, as when the mind is supposed to be overcome by sorrow, or
+disturbed by anger. At such times also, they serve as fit rests for the
+voice in its efforts to express the disturbed condition of the mind, and
+as appropriate avenues for the escape of emotion otherwise than by
+vocality, as by sibling. _Pauses should be used also to indicate sudden
+transitions from one state of caution to another._
+
+
+
+
+_THE HIGH SCHOOL READER_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I. KING SOLOMON'S PRAYER AND BLESSING AT THE DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE.
+
+_From_ THE FIRST BOOK OF KINGS.
+
+_Translated 1611--Revised 1885._
+
+
+Then Solomon assembled the elders of Israel, and all the heads of the
+tribes, the princes of the fathers' houses of the children of Israel,
+unto king Solomon in Jerusalem, to bring up the ark of the covenant of
+the LORD out of the city of David, which is Zion. And all the men of
+Israel assembled themselves unto king Solomon at the feast, in the month
+Ethanim, which is the seventh month. And all the elders of Israel came,
+and the priests took up the ark. And they brought up the ark of the
+LORD, and the tent of meeting, and all the holy vessels that were in the
+Tent; even these did the priests and the Levites bring up. And king
+Solomon and all the congregation of Israel, that were assembled unto
+him, were with him before the ark, sacrificing sheep and oxen, that
+could not be told nor numbered for multitude. And the priests brought in
+the ark of the covenant of the LORD unto its place, into the oracle of
+the house, to the most holy place, even under the wings of the cherubim.
+For the cherubim spread forth their wings over the place of the ark, and
+the cherubim covered the ark and the staves thereof above. There was
+nothing in the ark save the two tables of stone which Moses put there at
+Horeb, when the LORD made a covenant with the children of Israel, when
+they came out of the land of Egypt. And it came to pass, when the
+priests were come out of the holy place, that the cloud filled the house
+of the LORD, so that the priests could not stand to minister by reason
+of the cloud: for the glory of the LORD filled the house of the LORD.
+
+Then spake Solomon, The LORD hath said that he would dwell in the thick
+darkness. I have surely built thee an house of habitation, a place for
+thee to dwell in for ever. And the king turned his face about, and
+blessed all the congregation of Israel: and all the congregation of
+Israel stood. And he said, Blessed be the LORD, the God of Israel, which
+spake with his mouth unto David my father, and hath with his hand
+fulfilled it, saying, Since the day that I brought forth my people
+Israel out of Egypt, I chose no city out of all the tribes of Israel to
+build an house, that my name might be there; but I chose David to be
+over my people Israel. Now it was in the heart of David my father to
+build an house for the name of the LORD, the God of Israel. But the LORD
+said unto David my father, Whereas it was in thine heart to build an
+house for my name, thou didst well that it was in thine heart:
+nevertheless thou shalt not build the house; but thy son that shall come
+forth out of thy loins, he shall build the house for my name. And the
+LORD hath established his word that he spake; for I am risen up in the
+room of David my father, and sit on the throne of Israel, as the LORD
+promised, and have built the house for the name of the LORD, the God of
+Israel. And there have I set a place for the ark, wherein is the
+covenant of the LORD, which he made with our fathers, when he brought
+them out of the land of Egypt.
+
+And Solomon stood before the altar of the LORD in the presence of all
+the congregation of Israel, and spread forth his hands toward heaven:
+and he said, O LORD, the God of Israel, there is no God like thee, in
+heaven above, or on earth beneath; who keepest covenant and mercy with
+thy servants, that walk before thee with all their heart: who hast kept
+with thy servant David my father that which thou didst promise him: yea,
+thou spakest with thy mouth, and hast fulfilled it with thine hand, as
+it is this day. Now therefore, O LORD, the God of Israel, keep with thy
+servant David my father that which thou hast promised him, saying, There
+shall not fail thee a man in my sight to sit on the throne of Israel; if
+only thy children take heed to their way, to walk before me as thou hast
+walked before me. Now therefore, O God of Israel, let thy word, I pray
+thee, be verified, which thou spakest unto thy servant David my father.
+But will God in very deed dwell on the earth? behold, heaven and the
+heaven of heavens cannot contain thee; how much less this house that I
+have builded! Yet have thou respect unto the prayer of thy servant, and
+to his supplication, O LORD my God, to hearken unto the cry and to the
+prayer which thy servant prayeth before thee this day: that thine eyes
+may be open toward this house night and day, even toward the place
+whereof thou hast said, My name shall be there: to hearken unto the
+prayer which thy servant shall pray toward this place. And hearken thou
+to the supplication of thy servant, and of thy people Israel, when they
+shall pray toward this place: yea, hear thou in heaven thy dwelling
+place: and when thou hearest, forgive. If a man sin against his
+neighbour, and an oath be laid upon him to cause him to swear, and he
+come and swear before thine altar in this house: then hear thou in
+heaven, and do, and judge thy servants, condemning the wicked, to bring
+his way upon his own head; and justifying the righteous, to give him
+according to his righteousness. When thy people Israel be smitten down
+before the enemy, because they have sinned against thee; if they turn
+again to thee, and confess thy name, and pray and make supplication unto
+thee in this house: then hear thou in heaven, and forgive the sin of thy
+people Israel, and bring them again unto the land which thou gavest unto
+their fathers. When heaven is shut up, and there is no rain, because
+they have sinned against thee; if they pray toward this place, and
+confess thy name, and turn from their sin, when thou dost afflict them:
+then hear thou in heaven, and forgive the sin of thy servants, and of
+thy people Israel, when thou teachest them the good way wherein they
+should walk; and send rain upon thy land, which thou hast given to thy
+people for an inheritance. If there be in the land famine, if there be
+pestilence, if there be blasting or mildew, locust or caterpiller; if
+their enemy besiege them in the land of their cities; whatsoever plague,
+whatsoever sickness there be; what prayer and supplication soever be
+made by any man, or by all thy people Israel, which shall know every man
+the plague of his own heart, and spread forth his hands toward this
+house: then hear thou in heaven thy dwelling place, and forgive, and do,
+and render unto every man according to all his ways, whose heart thou
+knowest; (for thou, even thou only, knowest the hearts of all the
+children of men;) that they may fear thee all the days that they live
+in the land which thou gavest unto our fathers. Moreover concerning the
+stranger, that is not of thy people Israel, when he shall come out of a
+far country for thy name's sake; (for they shall hear of thy great name,
+and of thy mighty hand, and of thy stretched out arm:) when he shall
+come and pray toward this house; hear thou in heaven thy dwelling place,
+and do according to all that the stranger calleth to thee for; that all
+the peoples of the earth may know thy name, to fear thee, as doth thy
+people Israel, and that they may know that this house which I have built
+is called by thy name. If thy people go out to battle against their
+enemy, by whatsoever way thou shalt send them, and they pray unto the
+LORD toward the city which thou hast chosen, and toward the house which
+I have built for thy name: then hear thou in heaven their prayer and
+their supplication, and maintain their cause. If they sin against thee,
+(for there is no man that sinneth not,) and thou be angry with them, and
+deliver them to the enemy, so that they carry them away captive unto the
+land of the enemy, far off or near; yet if they shall bethink themselves
+in the land whither they are carried captive, and turn again, and make
+supplication unto thee in the land of them that carried them captive,
+saying, We have sinned, and have done perversely, we have dealt
+wickedly; if they return unto thee with all their heart and with all
+their soul in the land of their enemies, which carried them captive, and
+pray unto thee toward their land, which thou gavest unto their fathers,
+the city which thou hast chosen, and the house which I have built for
+thy name: then hear thou their prayer and their supplication in heaven
+thy dwelling place, and maintain their cause; and forgive thy people
+which have sinned against thee, and all their transgressions wherein
+they have transgressed against thee; and give them compassion before
+those who carried them captive, that they may have compassion on them:
+for they be thy people, and thine inheritance, which thou broughtest
+forth out of Egypt, from the midst of the furnace of iron: that thine
+eyes may be open unto the supplication of thy servant, and unto the
+supplication of thy people Israel, to hearken unto them whensoever
+they cry unto thee. For thou didst separate them from among all the
+peoples of the earth, to be thine inheritance, as thou spakest by
+the hand of Moses thy servant, when thou broughtest our fathers out
+of Egypt, O Lord GOD.
+
+And it was so, that when Solomon had made an end of praying all this
+prayer and supplication unto the LORD, he arose from before the altar of
+the LORD, from kneeling on his knees with his hands spread forth toward
+heaven. And he stood, and blessed all the congregation of Israel with a
+loud voice, saying, Blessed be the LORD, that hath given rest unto his
+people Israel, according to all that he promised: there hath not failed
+one word of all his good promise, which he promised by the hand of Moses
+his servant. The LORD our God be with us, as he was with our fathers:
+let him not leave us, nor forsake us: that he may incline our hearts
+unto him, to walk in all his ways, and to keep his commandments, and his
+statutes, and his judgments, which he commanded our fathers. And let
+these my words, wherewith I have made supplication before the LORD, be
+nigh unto the LORD our God day and night, that he maintain the cause of
+his servant, and the cause of his people Israel, as every day shall
+require: that all the peoples of the earth may know that the LORD, he is
+God; there is none else. Let your heart therefore be perfect with the
+LORD our God, to walk in his statutes, and to keep his commandments, as
+at this day. And the king, and all Israel with him, offered sacrifice
+before the LORD.
+
+
+
+
+II. INVITATION.
+
+_From_ ISAIAH.
+
+_Translated 1611--Revised 1885._
+
+
+Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no
+money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money
+and without price. Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not
+bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently
+unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself
+in fatness. Incline your ear, and come unto me; hear and your soul shall
+live: and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure
+mercies of David....
+
+Seek ye the LORD while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is
+near: let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his
+thoughts: and let him return unto the LORD, and he will have mercy upon
+him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are
+not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD. For as
+the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your
+ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. For as the rain cometh down
+and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the
+earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, and giveth seed to the sower
+and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my
+mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that
+which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. For
+ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and
+the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees
+of the field shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up
+the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree:
+and it shall be to the LORD for a name, for an everlasting sign that
+shall not be cut off.
+
+
+
+
+III. THE TRIAL SCENE IN THE "MERCHANT OF VENICE."[A]
+
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.--1564-1616.
+
+
+_Scene_--A Court of Justice. _Present_--THE DUKE, the Magnificoes,
+ANTONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO, SOLANIO, and others.
+
+_Duke._ What, is Antonio here?
+
+_Antonio._ Ready, so please your grace.
+
+_Duke._ I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer
+A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch
+Uncapable of pity, void and empty
+From any dram of mercy.
+
+_Antonio._         I have heard
+Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify
+His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate,
+And that no lawful means can carry me
+Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose
+My patience to his fury; and am arm'd
+To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
+The very tyranny and rage of his.
+
+_Duke._ Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
+
+_Solanio._ He's ready at the door: he comes, my lord.
+
+_Enter_ SHYLOCK.
+
+_Duke._ Make room, and let him stand before our face.--
+Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
+That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice
+To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought
+Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange
+Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;
+And where thou now exact'st the penalty,--
+Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,--
+Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,
+But, touch'd with human gentleness and love,
+Forgive a moiety of the principal;
+Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
+That have of late so huddled on his back,
+Enough to press a royal merchant down
+And pluck commiseration of his state
+From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,
+From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd
+To offices of tender courtesy.
+We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.
+
+_Shylock._ I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose;
+And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
+To have the due and forfeit of my bond:
+If you deny it, let the danger light
+Upon your charter and your city's freedom.
+You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have
+A weight of carrion flesh than to receive
+Three thousand ducats; I'll not answer that;
+But, say, it is my humor; is it answer'd?
+What if my house be troubled with a rat,
+And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats
+To have it ban'd? What, are you answer'd yet?
+Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
+Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;
+And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose,
+Cannot contain themselves: for affection,
+Master of passion, sways it to the mood
+Of what it likes, or loathes. Now, for your answer:
+As there is no firm reason to be render'd,
+Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;
+Why he, a harmless necessary cat;
+Why he, a woollen bagpipe,--but of force
+Must yield to such inevitable shame
+As to offend, himself being offended;
+So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
+More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing
+I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
+A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd?
+
+_Bassanio._ This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
+To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
+
+_Shylock._ I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
+
+_Bassanio._ Do all men kill the things they do not love?
+
+_Shylock._ Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
+
+_Bassanio._ Every offence is not a hate at first.
+
+_Shylock._ What, would'st thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
+
+_Antonio._ I pray you, think you question with the Jew.
+You may as well go stand upon the beach,
+And bid the main flood bate his usual height;
+You may as well use question with the wolf,
+Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;
+You may as well forbid the mountain pines
+To wag their high tops, and to make no noise,
+When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven;
+You may as well do anything most hard,
+As seek to soften that--than which what's harder?--
+His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,
+Make no more offers, use no further means,
+But, with all brief and plain conveniency,
+Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will.
+
+_Bassanio._ For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
+
+_Shylock._ If every ducat in six thousand ducats
+Were in six parts, and every part a ducat,
+I would not draw them; I would have my bond.
+
+_Duke._ How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none?
+
+_Shylock._ What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?
+You have among you many a purchas'd slave,
+Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules,
+You use in abject and in slavish parts,
+Because you bought them: shall I say to you,
+Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?
+Why sweat they under burdens? let their beds
+Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates
+Be season'd with such viands? You will answer,
+"The slaves are ours:" so do I answer you:
+The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,
+Is dearly bought; 'tis mine, and I will have it:
+If you deny me, fie upon your law!
+There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
+I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?
+
+_Duke._ Upon my power I may dismiss this court,
+Unless Bellario, a learnèd doctor,
+Whom I have sent for to determine this,
+Come here to-day.
+
+_Solanio._        My lord, here stays without
+A messenger with letters from the doctor,
+New come from Padua.
+
+_Duke._ Bring us the letters; call the messenger.
+
+_Bassanio._ Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!
+The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
+Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.
+
+_Antonio._ I am a tainted wether of the flock,
+Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit
+Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me:
+You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio,
+Than to live still, and write mine epitaph.
+
+_Enter_ NERISSA, _dressed like a lawyer's clerk._
+
+_Duke._ Came you from Padua, from Bellario?
+
+_Nerissa._ From both, my lord: Bellario greets your grace.
+
+[_Presents a letter._
+
+_Bassanio._ Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
+
+_Shylock._ To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.
+
+_Gratiano._ Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
+Thou mak'st thy knife keen; but no metal can,
+No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness
+Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
+
+_Shylock._ No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
+
+_Gratiano._ O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog!
+And for thy life let justice be accus'd.
+Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith,
+To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
+That souls of animals infuse themselves
+Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
+Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,
+Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
+And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
+Infus'd itself in thee; for thy desires
+Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous.
+
+_Shylock._ Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
+Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud:
+Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
+To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.
+_Duke._ This letter from Bellario doth commend
+A young and learnèd doctor to our court:--
+Where is he?
+
+_Nerissa._ He attendeth here hard by,
+To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.
+
+_Duke._ With all my heart.--Some three or four of you
+Go give him courteous conduct to this place.--
+Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter.
+
+[Clerk reads.] _Your grace shall understand, that, at the receipt of
+your letter, I am very sick: but, in the instant that your messenger
+came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome; his name
+is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the
+Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o'er many books together: he is
+furnished with my opinion: which, bettered with his own learning, the
+greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him, at my
+importunity, to fill up your grace's request in my stead. I beseech you,
+let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend
+estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave
+him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his
+commendation._
+
+_Duke._ You hear the learned Bellario, what he writes:
+And here, I take it, is the doctor come.--
+
+_Enter_ PORTIA, _dressed like a doctor of laws._
+
+Give me your hand: came you from old Bellario?
+
+_Portia._ I did, my lord.
+
+_Duke._                   You are welcome; take your place.
+Are you acquainted with the difference
+That holds this present question in the court?
+
+_Portia._ I am informèd, throughly of the cause.
+Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?
+
+_Duke._ Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.
+
+_Portia._ Is your name Shylock?
+
+_Shylock._                      Shylock is my name.
+
+_Portia._ Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;
+Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
+Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.--
+You stand within his danger, do you not?      [_To_ ANTONIO.
+
+_Antonio._ Ay, so he says.
+
+_Portia._                  Do you confess the bond?
+
+_Antonio._ I do.
+
+_Portia._        Then must the Jew be merciful.
+
+_Shylock._ On what compulsion must I? Tell me that.
+
+_Portia._ The quality of mercy is not strain'd;
+It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
+Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd;
+It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
+'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
+The thronèd monarch better than his crown;
+His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
+The attribute to awe and majesty,
+Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
+But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
+It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings,
+It is an attribute to God himself;
+And earthly power doth then show likest God's
+When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
+Though justice be thy plea, consider this,--
+That, in the course of justice, none of us
+Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
+And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
+The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
+To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
+Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
+Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.
+
+_Shylock._ My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,
+The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
+
+_Portia._ Is he not able to discharge the money?
+
+_Bassanio._ Yes, here I tender it for him in the court;
+Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,
+I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er,
+On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
+If this will not suffice, it must appear
+That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you,
+Wrest once the law to your authority:
+To do a great right, do a little wrong;
+And curb this cruel devil of his will.
+
+_Portia._ It must not be; there is no power in Venice
+Can alter a decree establishèd:
+'Twill be recorded for a precedent;
+And many an error, by the same example,
+Will rush into the state. It cannot be.
+
+_Shylock._ A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
+O wise young judge, how do I honour thee!
+
+_Portia._ I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
+
+_Shylock._ Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.
+
+_Portia._ Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee.
+
+_Shylock._ An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:
+Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
+No, not for Venice.
+
+_Portia._           Why, this bond is forfeit;
+And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
+A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
+Nearest the merchant's heart.--Be merciful;
+Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.
+
+_Shylock._ When it is paid according to the tenor.
+It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
+You know the law, your exposition
+Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law,
+Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,
+Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear
+There is no power in the tongue of man
+To alter me: I stay here on my bond.
+
+_Antonio._ Most heartily I do beseech the court
+To give the judgment.
+
+_Portia._             Why, then, thus it is:
+You must prepare your bosom for his knife;--
+
+_Shylock._ O noble judge! O excellent young man!
+
+_Portia._--For the intent and purpose of the law
+Hath full relation to the penalty,
+Which here appeareth due upon the bond.
+
+_Shylock._ 'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge!
+How much more elder art thou than thy looks!
+
+_Portia._ Therefore, lay bare your bosom.
+
+_Shylock._                                Ay, his breast:
+So says the bond:--doth it not, noble judge?--
+"Nearest his heart:" those are the very words.
+
+_Portia._ It is so. Are there balance here, to weigh
+The flesh?
+
+_Shylock._ I have them ready.
+
+_Portia._ Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
+To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
+
+_Shylock._ Is it so nominated in the bond?
+
+_Portia._ It is not so express'd; but what of that?
+'Twere good you do so much for charity.
+
+_Shylock._ I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.
+
+_Portia._ Come, merchant, have you anything to say?
+
+_Antonio._ But little: I am arm'd, and well prepar'd.--
+Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!
+Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;
+For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
+Than is her custom: it is still her use
+To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
+To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
+An age of poverty; from which lingering penance
+Of such a misery doth she cut me off.
+Commend me to your honorable wife:
+Tell her the process of Antonio's end;
+Say how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death;
+And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge
+Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
+Repent not you that you shall lose your friend,
+And he repents not that he pays your debt;
+For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
+I'll pay it instantly with all my heart.
+
+_Bassanio._ Antonio, I am married to a wife
+Which is as dear to me as life itself;
+But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
+Are not with me esteem'd above thy life:
+I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
+Here to this devil, to deliver you.
+
+_Portia._ Your wife would give you little thanks for that,
+If she were by, to hear you make the offer.
+
+_Gratiano._ I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love:
+I would she were in heaven, so she could
+Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.
+
+_Nerissa._ 'Tis well you offer it behind her back;
+The wish would make else an unquiet house.
+
+_Shylock._ [_Aside._] These be the Christian husbands! I have a daughter;
+Would any of the stock of Bárrabas
+Had been her husband rather than a Christian!--
+[_To_ PORTIA.] We trifle time; I pray thee, pursue sentence.
+
+_Portia._ A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine:
+The court awards it, and the law doth give it.
+
+_Shylock._ Most rightful judge!
+
+_Portia._ And you must cut this flesh from off his breast:
+The law allows it, and the court awards it.
+
+_Shylock._ Most learnèd judge! A sentence!--Come, prepare.
+
+_Portia._ Tarry a little; there is something else.
+This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
+The words expressly are "a pound of flesh":
+Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;
+But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
+One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
+Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
+Unto the state of Venice.
+
+_Gratiano._ O upright judge!--Mark, Jew:--O learnèd judge!
+
+_Shylock._ Is that the law?
+
+_Portia._                   Thyself shalt see the act:
+For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd
+Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.
+
+_Gratiano._ O learnèd judge!--Mark, Jew:--a learnèd judge!
+
+_Shylock._ I take this offer, then: pay the bond thrice,
+And let the Christian go.
+
+_Bassanio._               Here is the money.
+
+_Portia._ Soft!
+The Jew shall have all justice;--soft! no haste:--
+He shall have nothing but the penalty.
+
+_Gratiano._ O Jew! an upright judge, a learnèd judge!
+
+_Portia._ Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
+Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less nor more
+But just a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more
+Or less than a just pound,--be it but so much
+As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance,
+Or the division of the twentieth part,
+Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn
+But in the estimation of a hair,--
+Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.
+
+_Gratiano._ A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
+Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.
+
+_Portia._ Why doth the Jew pause? Take thy forfeiture.
+
+_Shylock._ Give me my principal, and let me go.
+
+_Bassanio._ I have it ready for thee; here it is.
+
+_Portia._ He hath refus'd it in the open court:
+He shall have merely justice, and his bond.
+
+_Gratiano._ A Daniel, still say I; a second Daniel!--
+I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
+
+_Shylock._ Shall I not have barely my principal?
+
+_Portia._ Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
+To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
+
+_Shylock._ Why, then the devil give him good of it!
+I'll stay no longer question.
+
+_Portia._                     Tarry, Jew:
+The law hath yet another hold on you.
+It is enacted in the laws of Venice,
+If it be prov'd against an alien
+That by direct or indirect attempts
+He seek the life of any citizen,
+The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
+Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
+Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
+And the offender's life lies in the mercy
+Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
+In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st;
+For it appears, by manifest proceeding,
+That, indirectly, and directly too,
+Thou hast contriv'd against the very life
+Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd
+The danger formerly by me rehears'd.
+Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke.
+
+_Gratiano._ Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:
+And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
+Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
+Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.
+
+_Duke._ That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,
+I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
+For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;
+The other half comes to the general state,
+Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.
+
+_Portia._ Ay, for the state; not for Antonio.
+
+_Shylock._ Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that:
+You take my house when you do take the prop
+That doth sustain my house; you take my life,
+When you do take the means whereby I live.
+
+_Portia._ What mercy can you render him, Antonio?
+
+_Gratiano._ A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake.
+
+_Antonio._ So please my lord the duke, and all the court,
+To quit the fine for one half of his goods,
+I am content, so he will let me have
+The other half in use, to render it,
+Upon his death, unto the gentleman
+That lately stole his daughter:
+Two things provided more,--that, for this favor,
+He presently become a Christian;
+The other, that he do record a gift,
+Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,
+Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.
+
+_Duke._ He shall do this; or else I do recant
+The pardon that I late pronouncèd here.
+
+_Portia._ Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say?
+
+_Shylock._ I am content.
+
+_Portia._                Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
+
+_Shylock._ I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
+I am not well: send the deed after me,
+And I will sign it.
+
+_Duke._             Get thee gone, but do it.
+
+_Gratiano._ In christening thou shalt have two godfathers;
+Had I been judge, thou should'st have had ten more,
+To bring thee to the gallows, not the font.      [_Exit Shylock._
+
+_Duke._ Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.
+
+_Portia._ I humbly do desire your grace of pardon:
+I must away this night toward Padua,
+And it is meet I presently set forth.
+
+_Duke._ I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
+Antonio, gratify this gentleman,
+For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.
+
+[_Exeunt omnes._
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] As an introduction read "The Merchant of Venice," FOURTH READER,
+page 311.
+
+
+
+
+IV. OF BOLDNESS.
+
+LORD BACON.--1561-1626.
+
+_From_ ESSAYS.
+
+
+It is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy a wise man's
+consideration: question was asked of Demosthenes, what was the chief
+part of an orator? He answered, action: what next? action: what next
+again? action. He said it that knew it best, and had by nature himself
+no advantage in that he commended. A strange thing, that that part of an
+orator which is but superficial, and rather the virtue of a player,
+should be placed so high above those other noble parts, of invention,
+elocution, and the rest; nay, almost alone, as if it were all in all.
+But the reason is plain. There is in human nature generally more of the
+fool than of the wise; and therefore those faculties by which the
+foolish part of men's minds is taken, are most potent. Wonderful like is
+the case of boldness in civil business; what first? boldness: what
+second and third? boldness. And yet boldness is a child of ignorance and
+baseness, far inferior to other parts: but, nevertheless, it doth
+fascinate, and bind hand and foot those that are either shallow in
+judgment or weak in courage, which are the greatest part; yea, and
+prevaileth with wise men at weak times; therefore we see it hath done
+wonders in popular states, but with senates and princes less; and more,
+ever upon the first entrance of bold persons into action, than soon
+after; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise. Surely, as there are
+mountebanks for the natural body, so are there mountebanks for the
+politic body--men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have been
+lucky in two or three experiments, but want the grounds of science, and
+therefore cannot hold out. Nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times
+do Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people believe that he would call
+a hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers for the
+observers of his law. The people assembled: Mahomet called the hill to
+come to him again and again; and when the hill stood still, he was never
+a whit abashed, but said, "If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet
+will go to the hill." So these men, when they have promised great
+matters, and failed most shamefully, yet, if they have the perfection of
+boldness, they will but slight it over, and make a turn, and no more
+ado. Certainly, to men of great judgment, bold persons are sport to
+behold; nay, and to the vulgar also boldness hath somewhat of the
+ridiculous: for, if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not
+but great boldness is seldom without some absurdity; especially it is a
+sport to see when a bold fellow is out of countenance, for that puts his
+face into a most shrunken and wooden posture, as needs it must--for in
+bashfulness the spirits do a little go and come--but with bold men, upon
+like occasion, they stand at a stay; like a stale at chess, where it is
+no mate, but yet the game cannot stir: but this last were fitter for a
+satire than for a serious observation. This is well to be weighed, that
+boldness is ever blind, for it seeth not dangers and inconveniences:
+therefore it is ill in counsel, good in execution; so that the right use
+of bold persons is, that they never command in chief, but be seconds,
+and under the direction of others; for in counsel it is good to see
+dangers, and in execution not to see them, except they be very great.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _He that cannot see well, let him go softly._
+
+        BACON.
+
+
+
+
+V. TO DAFFODILS.
+
+ROBERT HERRICK.--1594-1674.
+
+
+    Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
+      You haste away so soon;
+    As yet the early-rising sun
+      Has not attain'd his noon.
+                  Stay, stay,
+          Until the hasting day
+                  Has run
+          But to the even-song;
+    And, having pray'd together, we
+          Will go with you along.
+
+    We have short time to stay, as you;
+      We have as short a spring;
+    As quick a growth to meet decay,
+      As you, or anything.
+                  We die
+          As your hours do, and dry
+                  Away,
+      Like to the summer's rain;
+    Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
+          Ne'er to be found again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Stone walls do not a prison make,
+      Nor iron bars a cage;
+    Minds innocent and quiet take
+    That for a hermitage:
+    If I have freedom in my love,
+      And in my soul am free,
+    Angels alone, that soar above,
+      Enjoy such liberty._
+
+        RICHARD LOVELACE.--1618-1658.
+
+
+
+
+VI. OF CONTENTEDNESS IN ALL ESTATES AND ACCIDENTS.
+
+JEREMY TAYLOR.--1613-1667.
+
+_From_ HOLY LIVING.
+
+
+Virtues and discourses are, like friends, necessary in all fortunes; but
+those are the best, which are friends in our sadnesses, and support us
+in our sorrows and sad accidents: and in this sense, no man that is
+virtuous can be friendless; nor hath any man reason to complain of the
+Divine Providence, or accuse the public disorder of things, or in his
+own infelicity, since God hath appointed one remedy for all the evils in
+the world, and that is a contented spirit: for this alone makes a man
+pass through fire, and not be scorched; through seas, and not be
+drowned; through hunger and nakedness, and want nothing. For since all
+the evil in the world consists in the disagreeing between the object and
+the appetite, as when a man hath what he desires not, or desires what he
+hath not, or desires amiss; he that composes his spirit to the present
+accident, hath variety of instances for his virtue, but none to trouble
+him, because his desires enlarge not beyond his present fortune: and a
+wise man is placed in the variety of chances, like the nave or centre of
+a wheel, in the midst of all the circumvolutions and changes of posture,
+without violence or change, save that it turns gently in compliance with
+its changed parts, and is indifferent which part is up, and which is
+down; for there is some virtue or other to be exercised, whatever
+happens, either patience or thanksgiving, love or fear, moderation or
+humility, charity or contentedness, and they are every one of them
+equally in order to his great end and immortal felicity: and beauty is
+not made by white or red, by black eyes and a round face, by a straight
+body and a smooth skin; but by a proportion to the fancy. No rules can
+make amiability; our minds and apprehensions make that: and so is our
+felicity; and we may be reconciled to poverty and a low fortune, if we
+suffer contentedness and the grace of God to make the proportions. For
+no man is poor that does not think himself so: but if, in a full
+fortune, with impatience he desires more, he proclaims his wants and his
+beggarly condition. But because this grace of contentedness was the sum
+of all the old moral philosophy, and a great duty in Christianity, and
+of most universal use in the whole course of our lives, and the only
+instrument to ease the burdens of the world and the enmities of sad
+chances, it will not be amiss to press it by the proper arguments by
+which God hath bound it upon our spirits; it being fastened by reason
+and religion, by duty and interest, by necessity and conveniency, by
+example, and by the proposition of excellent rewards, no less than peace
+and felicity.
+
+Contentedness in all estates is a duty of religion; it is the great
+reasonableness of complying with the Divine Providence, which governs
+all the world, and hath so ordered us in the administration of his great
+family. He were a strange fool that should be angry because dogs and
+sheep need no shoes, and yet himself is full of care to get some. God
+hath supplied those needs to them by natural provisions, and to thee by
+an artificial: for he hath given thee reason to learn a trade, or some
+means to make or buy them, so that it only differs in the manner of our
+provision: and which had you rather want, shoes or reason? and my
+patron, that hath given me a farm, is freer to me than if he gives a
+loaf ready baked. But, however, all these gifts come from him, and
+therefore it is fit he should dispense them as he pleases; and if we
+murmur here, we may, at the next melancholy, be troubled that God did
+not make us to be angels or stars. For if that which we are or have do
+not content us, we may be troubled for every thing in the world which is
+beside our being or our possessions.
+
+God is the master of the scenes; we must not choose which part we shall
+act; it concerns us only to be careful that we do it well, always
+saying, "If this please God, let it be as it is:" and we, who pray that
+God's will may be done in earth as it is in heaven, must remember that
+the angels do whatsoever is commanded them, and go wherever they are
+sent, and refuse no circumstances; and if their employment be crossed by
+a higher decree, they sit down in peace, and rejoice in the event; and
+when the angel of Judea could not prevail in behalf of the people
+committed to his charge, because the angel of Persia opposed it, he only
+told the story at the command of God, and was as content, and worshipped
+with as great an ecstasy in his proportion, as the prevailing spirit. Do
+thou so likewise: keep the station where God hath placed you, and you
+shall never long for things without, but sit at home, feasting upon the
+Divine Providence and thy own reason, by which we are taught that it is
+necessary and reasonable to submit to God.
+
+For is not all the world God's family? Are not we his creatures? Are we
+not as clay in the hand of the potter? Do we not live upon his meat, and
+move by his strength, and do our work by his light? Are we any thing but
+what we are from him? And shall there be a mutiny among the flocks and
+herds, because their lord or their shepherd chooses their pastures, and
+suffers them not to wander into deserts and unknown ways? If we choose,
+we do it so foolishly that we cannot like it long, and most commonly not
+at all: but God, who can do what he pleases, is wise to choose safely
+for us, affectionate to comply with our needs, and powerful to execute
+all his wise decrees. Here, therefore, is the wisdom of the contented
+man, to let God choose for him; for when we have given up our wills to
+him, and stand in that station of the battle where our great General
+hath placed us, our spirits must needs rest while our conditions have
+for their security the power, the wisdom, and the charity of God.
+
+Contentedness in all accidents brings great peace of spirit, and is the
+great and only instrument of temporal felicity. It removes the sting
+from the accident, and makes a man not to depend upon chance and the
+uncertain dispositions of men for his well-being, but only on God and
+his own spirit. We ourselves make our fortunes good or bad; and when God
+lets loose a tyrant upon us, or a sickness, or scorn, or a lessened
+fortune, if we fear to die, or know not to be patient, or are proud or
+covetous, then the calamity sits heavy on us. But if we know how to
+manage a noble principle, and fear not death so much as a dishonest
+action, and think impatience a worse evil than a fever, and pride to be
+the biggest disgrace, and poverty to be infinitely desirable before the
+torments of covetousness; then we who now think vice to be so easy, and
+make it so familiar, and think the cure so impossible, shall quickly be
+of another mind, and reckon these accidents amongst things eligible.
+
+But no man can be happy that hath great hopes and great fears of things
+without, and events depending upon other men, or upon the chances of
+fortune. The rewards of virtue are certain, and our provisions for our
+natural support are certain; or if we want meat till we die, then we die
+of that disease--and there are many worse than to die with an atrophy or
+consumption, or unapt and coarser nourishment. But he that suffers a
+transporting passion concerning things within the power of others, is
+free from sorrow and amazement no longer than his enemy shall give him
+leave; and it is ten to one but he shall be smitten then and there where
+it shall most trouble him; for so the adder teaches us where to strike,
+by her curious and fearful defending of her head. The old Stoics, when
+you told them of a sad story, would still answer, "_What is that to
+me?_" Yes, for the tyrant hath sentenced you also to prison. Well, what
+is that? He will put a chain upon my leg; but he cannot bind my soul.
+No; but he will kill you. Then I will die. If presently, let me go, that
+I may presently be freer than himself: but if not till anon, or
+to-morrow, I will dine first, or sleep, or do what reason or nature
+calls for, as at other times. This, in Gentile philosophy, is the same
+with the discourse of St. Paul, "I have learned, in whatsoever state I
+am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know
+how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed, both to be
+full and to be hungry; both to abound and suffer need."
+
+We are in the world like men playing at tables; the chance is not in our
+power, but to play it is; and when it is fallen we must manage it as we
+can: and let nothing trouble us, but when we do a base action, or speak
+like a fool, or think wickedly,--these things God hath put into our
+powers; but concerning those things which are wholly in the choice of
+another, they cannot fall under our deliberation, and therefore neither
+are they fit for our passions. My fear may make me miserable, but it
+cannot prevent what another hath in his power and purpose; and
+prosperities can only be enjoyed by them who fear not at all to lose
+them; since the amazement and passion concerning the future takes off
+all the pleasure of the present possession. Therefore, if thou hast lost
+thy land, do not also lose thy constancy; and if thou must die a little
+sooner, yet do not die impatiently. For no chance is evil to him that is
+content: and to a man nothing is miserable unless it be unreasonable. No
+man can make another man to be his slave unless he hath first enslaved
+himself to life and death, to pleasure or pain, to hope or fear: command
+these passions, and you are freer than the Parthian kings.
+
+
+
+
+VII. TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.
+
+RICHARD LOVELACE.--1618-1658.
+
+
+    Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,
+      That from the nunnery
+    Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
+      To war and arms I fly.
+
+    True, a new mistress now I chase,
+      The first foe in the field;
+    And with a stronger faith embrace
+      A sword, a horse, a shield.
+
+    Yet this inconstancy is such
+      As you, too, shall adore,--
+    I could not love thee, dear, so much,
+      Lov'd I not honor more.
+
+
+
+
+VIII. ANGLING.
+
+IZAAK WALTON.--1593-1683.
+
+_From_ THE COMPLETE ANGLER.
+
+
+_Venator._--O my good master, this morning walk has been spent to my
+great pleasure and wonder; but I pray, when shall I have your direction
+how to make artificial flies, like to those that the trout loves best,
+and also how to use them?
+
+_Piscator._--My honest scholar, it is now past five of the clock; we
+will fish till nine, and then go to breakfast. Go you to yon
+sycamore-tree, and hide your bottle of drink under the hollow root of
+it; for about that time, and in that place, we will make a brave
+breakfast with a piece of powdered beef, and a radish or two, that I
+have in my fish-bag: we shall, I warrant you, make a good, honest,
+wholesome, hungry breakfast, and I will then give you direction for the
+making and using of your flies; and in the meantime, there is your rod
+and line, and my advice is, that you fish as you see me do, and let's
+try which can catch the first fish.
+
+_Venator._--I thank you, master; I will observe and practise your
+direction as far as I am able.
+
+_Piscator._--Look you, scholar, you see I have hold of a good fish: I
+now see it is a trout. I pray put that net under him, and touch not my
+line, for if you do, then we break all. Well done, scholar! I thank you.
+
+Now for another. Trust me, I have another bite: come, scholar, come, lay
+down your rod, and help me to land this as you did the other. So now we
+shall be sure to have a good dish for supper.
+
+_Venator._--I am glad of that; but I have no fortune: sure, master,
+yours is a better rod and better tackling.
+
+_Piscator._--Nay, then, take mine; and I will fish with yours. Look you,
+scholar, I have another. Come, do as you did before. And now I have a
+bite at another. Oh me! he has broke all: there's half a line and a good
+hook lost.
+
+_Venator._--Ay, and a good trout too.
+
+_Piscator._--Nay, the trout is not lost; for pray take notice, no man
+can lose what he never had.
+
+_Venator._--Master, I can neither catch with the first nor second angle:
+I have no fortune.
+
+_Piscator._--Look you, scholar, I have yet another. And now, having
+caught two brace of trouts, I will tell you a short tale as we walk
+towards our breakfast. A scholar, a preacher I should say, that was to
+preach to procure the approbation of a parish that he might be their
+lecturer, had got from his fellow-pupil the copy of a sermon that was
+first preached with great commendation by him that composed it; and
+though the borrower of it preached it, word for word, as it was at
+first, yet it was utterly disliked as it was preached by the second to
+his congregation; which the sermon borrower complained of to the lender
+of it; and thus was answered: "I lent you, indeed, my fiddle, but not my
+fiddle-stick; for you are to know, that every one cannot make music with
+my words, which are fitted to my own mouth." And so, my scholar, you are
+to know, that as the ill pronunciation or ill accenting of words in a
+sermon spoils it, so the ill carriage of your line, or not fishing even
+to a foot in a right place, makes you lose your labor; and you are to
+know, that though you have my fiddle, that is, my very rod and tacklings
+with which you see I catch fish, yet you have not my fiddle-stick, that
+is, you yet have not skill to know how to carry your hand and line, nor
+how to guide it to a right place; and this must be taught you; for you
+are to remember, I told you angling is an art, either by practice or a
+long observation, or both. But take this for a rule: when you fish for a
+trout with a worm, let your line have so much and not more lead than
+will fit the stream in which you fish; that is to say, more in a great
+troublesome stream than in a smaller that is quieter; as near as may be,
+so much as will sink the bait to the bottom, and keep it still in
+motion, and not more.
+
+But now let's say grace and fall to breakfast. What say you, scholar, to
+the providence of an old angler? does not this meat taste well? and was
+not this place well chosen to eat it? for this sycamore-tree will shade
+us from the sun's heat.
+
+_Venator._--All excellent good, and my stomach excellent good too. And
+now I remember and find that true which devout Lessius says: "That poor
+men, and those that fast often, have much more pleasure in eating than
+rich men and gluttons, that always feed before their stomachs are empty
+of their last meal, and call for more; for by that means they rob
+themselves of that pleasure that hunger brings to poor men." And I do
+seriously approve of that saying of yours, "that you would rather be a
+civil, well-governed, well-grounded, temperate, poor angler, than a
+drunken lord." But I hope there is none such: however, I am certain of
+this, that I have been at many very costly dinners that have not
+afforded me half the content that this has done, for which I thank God
+and you.
+
+And now, good master, proceed to your promised direction for making and
+ordering my artificial fly.
+
+_Piscator_.--My honest scholar, I will do it; for it is a debt due unto
+you by my promise....
+
+... Look how it begins to rain!--and by the clouds, if I mistake not, we
+shall presently have a smoking shower, and therefore sit close: this
+sycamore-tree will shelter us; and I will tell you, as they shall come
+into my mind, more observations of fly-fishing for a trout....
+
+... And now, scholar, my direction for fly-fishing is ended with this
+shower, for it has done raining: and now look about you, and see how
+pleasantly that meadow looks; nay, and the earth smells as sweetly too.
+Come, let me tell you what holy Mr. Herbert says of such days and
+flowers as these; and then we will thank God that we enjoy them, and
+walk to the river and sit down quietly, and try to catch the other brace
+of trouts.
+
+    Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
+    The bridal of the earth and sky:
+    The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
+                          For thou must die.
+
+    Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
+    Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
+    Thy root is ever in its grave;
+                          And thou must die.
+
+    Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses,
+    A box where sweets compacted lie;
+    Thy music shows ye have your closes;
+                          And all must die.
+
+    Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
+    Like season'd timber, never gives;
+    But, though the whole world turn to coal,
+                          Then chiefly lives.
+
+_Venator._--I thank you, good master, for your good direction for
+fly-fishing, and for the sweet enjoyment of the pleasant day, which is
+so far spent without offence to God or man; and I thank you for the
+sweet close of your discourse with Mr. Herbert's verses, who, I have
+heard, loved angling; and I do the rather believe it, because he had a
+spirit suitable to anglers, and to those primitive Christians that you
+love and have so much commended.
+
+_Piscator._--Well, my loving scholar, and I am pleased to know that you
+are so well pleased with my direction and discourse.... And now, I think
+it will be time to repair to our angle-rods, which we left in the water
+to fish for themselves: and you shall choose which shall be yours; and
+it is an even lay, one of them catches.
+
+And, let me tell you, this kind of fishing with a dead rod, and laying
+night-hooks, are like putting money to use; for they both work for the
+owners, when they do nothing but sleep, or eat, or rejoice; as you know
+we have done this last hour, and sat as quietly, and as free from cares
+under this sycamore, as Virgil's Tityrus and his Meliboeus did, under
+their broad beech tree. No life, my honest scholar, no life so happy and
+so pleasant, as the life of a well-governed angler; for when the lawyer
+is swallowed up with business, and the statesman is preventing or
+contriving plots, then we sit on cowslip banks, hear the birds sing, and
+possess ourselves in as much quietness as these silent silver streams,
+which we now see glide so quietly by us. Indeed, my good scholar, we may
+say of angling as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, "Doubtless, God
+could have made a better berry, but doubtless, God never did;" and so,
+if I might be judge, "God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent
+recreation than angling."
+
+
+
+
+IX. ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.
+
+(1629).
+
+JOHN MILTON.--1608-1674.
+
+
+I.
+
+    This is the month, and this the happy morn,
+    Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King,
+    Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,
+    Our great redemption from above did bring;
+    For so the holy sages once did sing,
+      That he our deadly forfeit should release,
+    And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
+
+
+II.
+
+    That glorious form, that light unsufferable,
+    And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,
+    Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table
+    To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,
+    He laid aside; and, here with us to be,
+      Forsook the courts of everlasting day,
+    And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.
+
+
+III.
+
+    Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein
+    Afford a present to the Infant God?
+    Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,
+    To welcome him to this his new abode,
+    Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod,
+      Hath took no print of the approaching light,
+    And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
+
+
+IV.
+
+    See how from far upon the eastern road
+    The star-led wizards haste with odors sweet!
+    O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
+    And lay it lowly at his blessèd feet;
+    Have thou the honor first thy Lord to greet,
+      And join thy voice unto the Angel Choir,
+    From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE HYMN.
+
+
+1.
+
+    It was the winter wild,
+    While the Heaven-born child,
+      All meanly wrapt, in the rude manger lies;
+    Nature, in awe to him,
+    Had doff'd her gaudy trim,
+      With her great Master so to sympathize:
+    It was no season then for her
+    To wanton with the Sun, her lusty paramour.
+
+
+2.
+
+    Only, with speeches fair,
+    She woos the gentle Air
+      To hide her guilty front with innocent snow,
+    And on her naked shame,
+    Pollute with sinful blame,
+      The saintly veil of maiden white to throw;
+    Confounded, that her Maker's eyes
+    Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
+
+
+3.
+
+    But he, her fears to cease,
+    Sent down the meek-ey'd Peace:
+      She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding
+    Down through the turning sphere,
+    His ready harbinger,
+      With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;
+    And, waving wide her myrtle wand,
+    She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.
+
+
+4.
+
+    No war, or battle's sound,
+    Was heard the world around:
+      The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
+    The hookèd chariot stood,
+    Unstain'd with hostile blood;
+      The trumpet spake not to the armèd throng;
+    And kings sat still with awful eye,
+    As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
+
+
+5.
+
+    But peaceful was the night
+    Wherein the Prince of Light
+      His reign of peace upon the earth began:
+    The winds, with wonder whist,
+    Smoothly the waters kiss'd,
+      Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean,
+    Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
+    While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave.
+
+
+6.
+
+    The stars, with deep amaze,
+    Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze,
+      Bending one way their precious influence;
+    And will not take their flight,
+    For all the morning light,
+      Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence;
+    But in their glimmering orbs did glow,
+    Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
+
+
+7.
+
+    And, though the shady gloom
+    Had given day her room,
+    The Sun himself withheld his wonted speed;
+      And hid his head for shame,
+    As his inferior flame
+      The new-enlighten'd world no more should need;
+    He saw a greater Sun appear
+    Than his bright throne or burning axletree could bear.
+
+
+8.
+
+    The shepherds on the lawn,
+    Or ere the point of dawn,
+      Sat simply chatting in a rustic row;
+    Full little thought they then
+    That the mighty Pan
+      Was kindly come to live with them below:
+    Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,
+    Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.
+
+
+9.
+
+    When such music sweet
+    Their hearts and ears did greet,
+      As never was by mortal finger strook,
+    Divinely-warbled voice
+    Answering the stringèd noise,
+      As all their souls in blissful rapture took:
+    The Air, such pleasure loth to lose,
+    With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.
+
+
+10.
+
+    Nature, that heard such sound
+    Beneath the hollow round
+      Of Cynthia's seat, the Airy region thrilling,
+    Now was almost won
+    To think her part was done,
+      And that her reign had here its last fulfilling:
+    She knew such harmony alone
+    Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.
+
+
+11.
+
+    At last surrounds their sight
+    A globe of circular light,
+      That with long beams the shame-faced Night array'd;
+    The helmèd cherubim,
+    And swordèd seraphim,
+      Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd,
+    Harping in loud and solemn choir,
+    With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-born Heir.
+
+
+12.
+
+    Such music (as 'tis said)
+    Before was never made,
+      But when of old the Sons of Morning sung,
+    While the Creator great
+    His constellations set,
+      And the well-balanced world on hinges hung,
+    And cast the dark foundations deep,
+    And bid the welt'ring waves their oozy channel keep.
+
+
+13.
+
+    Ring out, ye crystal spheres!
+    Once bless our human ears,
+      (If ye have power to touch our senses so,)
+    And let your silver chime
+    Move in melodious time;
+      And let the bass of Heaven's deep organ blow;
+    And with your ninefold harmony
+    Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.
+
+
+14.
+
+    For, if such holy song
+    Enwrap our fancy long,
+      Time will run back, and fetch the Age of Gold;
+    And speckled Vanity
+    Will sicken soon and die;
+      And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould;
+    And Hell itself will pass away,
+    And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.
+
+
+15.
+
+    Yea, Truth and Justice then
+    Will down return to men,
+      Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
+    Mercy will sit between,
+    Thron'd in celestial sheen,
+      With radiant feet the tissu'd clouds down steering;
+    And Heaven, as at some festival,
+    Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall.
+
+
+16.
+
+    But wisest Fate says, No,
+    This must not yet be so;
+      The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy,
+    That on the bitter cross
+    Must redeem our loss;
+      So both himself and us to glorify:
+    Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep,
+    The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.
+
+
+17.
+
+    With such a horrid clang
+    As on Mount Sinai rang,
+      While the red fire and smould'ring clouds out brake:
+    The aged Earth, aghast,
+    With terror of that blast,
+      Shall from the surface to the centre shake;
+    When, at the world's last session,
+    The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.
+
+
+18.
+
+    And then at last our bliss
+    Full and perfect is,
+      But now begins; for from this happy day
+    The Old Dragon under ground,
+    In straiter limits bound,
+      Not half so far casts his usurpèd sway;
+    And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,
+    Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.
+
+
+19.
+
+    The Oracles are dumb;
+    No voice or hideous hum
+      Runs through the archèd roof in words deceiving.
+    Apollo from his shrine
+    Can no more divine,
+      With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
+    No nightly trance, or breathèd spell,
+    Inspires the pale-ey'd priest from the prophetic cell.
+
+
+20.
+
+    The lonely mountains o'er,
+    And the resounding shore,
+      A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
+    From haunted spring, and dale
+    Edg'd with poplar pale,
+      The parting Genius is with sighing sent;
+    With flower-inwoven tresses torn
+    The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
+
+
+21.
+
+    In consecrated earth,
+    And on the holy hearth,
+      The Lars, and Lemures, moan with midnight plaint;
+    In urns, and altars round,
+    A drear and dying sound
+      Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;
+    And the chill marble seems to sweat,
+    While each peculiar Power forgoes his wonted seat.
+
+
+22.
+
+    Peor, and Baälim,
+    Forsake their temples dim,
+      With that twice-batter'd God of Palestine;
+    And moonèd Ashtaroth,
+    Heaven's queen and mother both,
+      Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine:
+    The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn;
+    In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.
+
+
+23.
+
+    And sullen Moloch, fled,
+    Hath left in shadows dread,
+      His burning idol all of blackest hue
+    In vain with cymbals' ring
+    They call the grisly king,
+      In dismal dance about the furnace blue;
+    The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
+    Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.
+
+
+24.
+
+    Nor is Osiris seen
+    In Memphian grove or green,
+      Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud;
+    Nor can he be at rest
+    Within his sacred chest;
+      Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud;
+    In vain, with timbrell'd anthems dark,
+    The sable-stolèd sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark.
+
+
+25.
+
+    He feels from Juda's land
+    The dreaded Infant's hand;
+      The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
+    Nor all the gods beside
+    Longer dare abide,
+      Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:
+    Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,
+    Can in his swaddling bands control the damnèd crew.
+
+
+26.
+
+    So, when the sun in bed,
+    Curtain'd with cloudy red,
+      Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
+    The flocking shadows pale
+    Troop to the infernal jail,
+      Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave;
+    And the yellow-skirted fays
+    Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.
+
+
+27.
+
+    But see! the Virgin blest
+    Hath laid her Babe to rest.
+      Time is our tedious song should here have ending:
+    Heaven's youngest-teemèd star,
+    Hath fix'd her polish'd car,
+      Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;
+    And all about the courtly stable
+    Bright-harness'd Angels sit in order serviceable.
+
+
+
+
+X. CHARACTER OF LORD FALKLAND.
+
+LORD CLARENDON.--1608-1674.
+
+_From_ HISTORY OF THE REBELLION.
+
+
+In this unhappy battle [of Newbury] was slain the Lord Viscount
+Falkland; a person of such prodigious parts of learning and knowledge,
+of that inimitable sweetness and delight in conversation, of so flowing
+and obliging a humanity and goodness to mankind, and of that primitive
+simplicity and integrity of life, that if there were no other brand upon
+this odious and accursed civil war, than that single loss, it must be
+most infamous, and execrable to all posterity.
+
+Before this parliament, his condition of life was so happy that it was
+hardly capable of improvement. Before he came to be twenty years of age,
+he was master of a noble fortune, which descended to him by the gift of
+a grandfather, without passing through his father or mother, who were
+then both alive, and not well enough contented to find themselves passed
+by in the descent. His education for some years had been in Ireland,
+where his father was lord-deputy; so that, when he returned into
+England, to the possession of his fortune, he was unentangled with any
+acquaintance or friends, which usually grow up by the custom of
+conversation; and therefore was to make a pure election of his company;
+which he chose by other rules than were prescribed to the young nobility
+of that time. And it cannot be denied, though he admitted some few to
+his friendship for the agreeableness of their natures, and their
+undoubted affection to him, that his familiarity and friendship, for the
+most part, was with men of the most eminent and sublime parts, and of
+untouched reputation in point of integrity; and such men had a title to
+his bosom.
+
+He was a great cherisher of wit, and fancy, and good parts in any man;
+and, if he found them clouded with poverty or want, a most liberal and
+bountiful patron towards them, even above his fortune; of which, in
+those administrations, he was such a dispenser, as, if he had been
+trusted with it to such uses, and if there had been the least of vice in
+his expense, he might have been thought too prodigal. He was constant
+and pertinacious in whatsoever he resolved to do, and not to be wearied
+by any pains that were necessary to that end. And, therefore, having
+once resolved not to see London, which he loved above all places, till
+he had perfectly learned the Greek tongue, he went to his own house in
+the country, and pursued it with that indefatigable industry, that it
+will not be believed in how short a time he was master of it, and
+accurately read all the Greek historians.
+
+In this time, his house being within little more than ten miles of
+Oxford, he contracted familiarity and friendship with the most polite
+and accurate men of that university; who found such an immenseness of
+wit, and such a solidity of judgment in him, so infinite a fancy, bound
+in by a most logical ratiocination, such a vast knowledge, that he was
+not ignorant in anything, yet such an excessive humility, as if he had
+known nothing, that they frequently resorted and dwelt with him, as in a
+college situated in a purer air; so that his house was a university in a
+less volume; whither they came not so much for repose as study; and to
+examine and refine those grosser propositions, which laziness and
+consent made current in vulgar conversation....
+
+He was superior to all those passions and affections which attend vulgar
+minds, and was guilty of no other ambition than of knowledge, and to be
+reputed a lover of all good men; and that made him too much a contemner
+of those arts, which must be indulged in the transactions of human
+affairs....
+
+He had a courage of the most clear and keen temper, and so far from
+fear, that he seemed not without some appetite of danger; and therefore,
+upon any occasion of action, he always engaged his person in those
+troops which he thought, by the forwardness of the commanders, to be
+most like to be farthest engaged; and in all such encounters, he had
+about him an extraordinary cheerfulness, without at all affecting the
+execution that usually attended them; in which he took no delight, but
+took pains to prevent it, where it was not by resistance made necessary:
+insomuch that at Edge-hill, when the enemy was routed, he was like to
+have incurred great peril, by interposing to save those who had thrown
+away their arms, and against whom, it may be, others were more fierce
+for their having thrown them away: so that a man might think he came
+into the field chiefly out of curiosity to see the face of danger, and
+charity to prevent the shedding of blood. Yet, in his natural
+inclination, he acknowledged he was addicted to the profession of a
+soldier; and shortly after he came to his fortune, before he was of
+age, he went into the Low Countries, with a resolution of procuring
+command, and to give himself up to it; from which he was diverted by the
+complete inactivity of that summer; so he returned into England, and
+shortly after entered upon that vehement course of study we mentioned
+before, till the first alarm from the north; then again he made ready
+for the field, and though he received some repulse in the command of a
+troop of horse, of which he had a promise, he went a volunteer with the
+earl of Essex.
+
+From the entrance into this unnatural war, his natural cheerfulness and
+vivacity grew clouded, and a kind of sadness and dejection of spirit
+stole upon him, which he had never been used to; yet being one of those
+who believed that one battle would end all differences, and that there
+would be so great a victory on one side, that the other would be
+compelled to submit to any conditions from the victor--which supposition
+and conclusion generally sunk into the minds of most men, and prevented
+the looking after many advantages that might then have been laid hold
+of--he resisted those indispositions. But after the king's return from
+Brentford, and the furious resolution of the two Houses not to admit any
+treaty for peace, those indispositions, which had before touched him,
+grew into a perfect habit of uncheerfulness; and he, who had been so
+exactly unreserved and affable to all men, that his face and countenance
+was always present, and vacant, to his company, and held any cloudiness,
+and less pleasantness of the visage, a kind of rudeness or incivility,
+became, on a sudden, less communicable; and thence, very sad, pale, and
+exceedingly affected with the spleen. In his clothes and habit, which he
+had minded before always with more neatness, and industry, and expense,
+than is usual to so great a soul, he was not now only incurious, but too
+negligent; and in his reception of suitors, and the necessary or casual
+addresses to his place, so quick, and sharp, and severe, that there
+wanted not some men--strangers to his nature and disposition--who
+believed him proud and imperious; from which no mortal man was ever more
+free....
+
+When there was any overture or hope of peace, he would be more erect and
+vigorous, and exceedingly solicitous to press anything which he thought
+might promote it; and sitting among his friends, often, after a deep
+silence, and frequent sighs, would, with a shrill and sad accent,
+ingeminate the word _Peace, Peace_; and would passionately profess,
+"that the very agony of the war, and the view of the calamities and
+desolation the kingdom did and must endure, took his sleep from him, and
+would shortly break his heart." This made some think, or pretend to
+think, "that he was so much enamoured of peace, that he would have been
+glad the king should have bought it at any price;" which was a most
+unreasonable calumny. As if a man, that was himself the most punctual
+and precise in every circumstance that might reflect upon conscience or
+honor, could have wished the king to have committed a trespass against
+either....
+
+In the morning before the battle, as always upon action, he was very
+cheerful, and put himself into the first rank of the Lord Byron's
+regiment, then advancing upon the enemy, who had lined the hedges on
+both sides with musketeers; from whence he was shot with a musket in the
+lower part of the belly, and in the instant falling from his horse, his
+body was not found till the next morning; till when, there was some
+hope he might have been a prisoner; though his nearest friends, who knew
+his temper, received small comfort from that imagination. Thus fell that
+incomparable young man, in the four-and-thirtieth year of his age,
+having so much despatched the true business of life, that the oldest
+rarely attain to that immense knowledge, and the youngest enter not into
+the world with more innocency: whosoever leads such a life, needs be the
+less anxious upon how short warning it is taken from him.
+
+
+
+
+XI. VENI, CREATOR SPIRITUS.
+
+JOHN DRYDEN.--1631-1700.
+
+
+    Creator Spirit, by whose aid
+    The world's foundations first were laid,
+    Come, visit every pious mind;
+    Come, pour thy joys on humankind;
+    From sin and sorrow set us free,
+    And make thy temples worthy thee.
+
+      O source of uncreated light,
+    The Father's promis'd Paraclete!
+    Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
+    Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
+    Come, and thy sacred unction bring
+    To sanctify us, while we sing.
+
+      Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
+    Rich in thy sevenfold energy!
+    Thou strength of his Almighty hand,
+    Whose power does heaven and earth command;
+    Proceeding Spirit, our defence,
+    Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
+    And crown'st thy gift with eloquence.
+
+      Refine and purge our earthy parts;
+    But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
+    Our frailties help, our vice control,
+    Submit the senses to the soul;
+    And when rebellious they are grown,
+    Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.
+
+      Chase from our minds the infernal foe,
+    And peace, the fruit of Love, bestow;
+    And lest our feet should step astray,
+    Protect and guide us in the way.
+
+      Make us eternal truths receive,
+    And practise all that we believe:
+    Give us thy self, that we may see
+    The Father and the Son by thee.
+
+      Immortal honor, endless fame,
+    Attend the Almighty Father's name:
+    The Saviour Son be glorified,
+    Who for lost man's redemption died:
+    And equal adoration be,
+    Eternal Paraclete, to thee!
+
+
+
+
+XII. LINES PRINTED UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF MILTON.
+
+DRYDEN.
+
+
+    Three poets, in three distant ages born,
+    Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
+    The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd,
+    The next in majesty, in both the last.
+    The force of Nature could no farther go;
+    To make a third she join'd the former two.
+
+
+
+
+XIII. REASON.
+
+DRYDEN.
+
+_From_ RELIGIO LAICI.
+
+
+    Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars
+    To lonely, weary, wandering travellers,
+    Is Reason to the soul; and as on high
+    Those rolling fires discover but the sky,
+    Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray
+    Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,
+    But guide us upward to a better day
+    And as those nightly tapers disappear,
+    When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;
+    So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;
+    So dies, and so dissolves, in supernatural light.
+
+
+
+
+XIV. ON THE LOVE OF COUNTRY AS A PRINCIPLE OF ACTION.
+
+RICHARD STEELE.--1672-1729.
+
+_From_ THE TATLER, June 10, 1710.
+
+
+When men look into their own bosoms, and consider the generous seeds
+which are there planted, that might, if rightly cultivated, ennoble
+their lives, and make their virtue venerable to futurity; how can they,
+without tears, reflect on the universal degeneracy from that public
+spirit, which ought to be the first and principal motive of all their
+actions? In the Grecian and Roman nations, they were wise enough to keep
+up this great incentive, and it was impossible to be in the fashion
+without being a patriot. All gallantry had its first source from hence;
+and to want a warmth for the public welfare, was a defect so scandalous,
+that he who was guilty of it had no pretence to honor or manhood. What
+makes the depravity among us, in this behalf, the more vexatious and
+irksome to reflect upon, is, that the contempt of life is carried as far
+amongst us, as it could be in those memorable people; and we want only a
+proper application of the qualities which are frequent among us, to be
+as worthy as they. There is hardly a man to be found who will not fight
+upon any occasion, which he thinks may taint his own honor. Were this
+motive as strong in everything that regards the public, as it is in this
+our private case, no man would pass his life away without having
+distinguished himself by some gallant instance of his zeal towards it in
+the respective incidents of his life and profession. But it is so far
+otherwise, that there cannot at present be a more ridiculous animal,
+than one who seems to regard the good of others. He, in civil life,
+whose thoughts turn upon schemes which may be of general benefit,
+without further reflection, is called a projector; and the man whose
+mind seems intent upon glorious achievements, a knight-errant. The
+ridicule among us runs strong against laudable actions; nay, in the
+ordinary course of things, and the common regards of life, negligence of
+the public is an epidemic vice. The brewer in his excise, the merchant
+in his customs, and, for aught we know, the soldier in his muster-rolls,
+think never the worse of themselves for being guilty of their respective
+frauds towards the public. This evil is come to such a fantastical
+height, that he is a man _of_ a public spirit, and heroically affected
+to his country, who can go so far as even to turn usurer with all he
+has in her funds. There is not a citizen in whose imagination such a one
+does not appear in the same light of glory, as Codrus, Scævola, or any
+other great name in old Rome. Were it not for the heroes of so much _per
+cent._ as have regard enough for themselves and their nation to trade
+with her with their wealth, the very notion of public love would long
+ere now have vanished from among us. But however general custom may
+hurry us away in the stream of a common error, there is no evil, no
+crime, so great as that of being cold in matters relating to the common
+good. This is in nothing more conspicuous than in a certain willingness
+to receive anything that tends to the diminution of such as have been
+conspicuous instruments in our service. Such inclinations proceed from
+the most low and vile corruption, of which the soul of man is capable.
+This effaces not only the practice, but the very approbation of honor
+and virtue; and has had such an effect, that, to speak freely, the very
+sense of public good has no longer a part even in our conversations. Can
+then the most generous motive of life, the good of others, be so easily
+banished the breast of man? Is it possible to draw all our passions
+inward? Shall the boiling heat of youth be sunk in pleasures, the
+ambition of manhood in selfish intrigues? Shall all that is glorious,
+all that is worth the pursuit of great minds, be so easily rooted out?
+When the universal bent of a people seems diverted from the sense of
+their common good, and common glory, it looks like a fatality, and
+crisis of impending misfortune.
+
+The generous nations we just now mentioned understood this so very well,
+that there was hardly an oration ever made, which did not turn upon
+this general sense, "That the love of their country was the first and
+most essential quality in an honest mind." Demosthenes, in a cause
+wherein his fame, reputation, and fortune, were embarked, puts his all
+upon this issue; "Let the Athenians," says he, "be benevolent to me, as
+they think I have been zealous for them." This great and discerning
+orator knew, there was nothing else in nature could bear him up against
+his adversaries, but this one quality of having shown himself willing or
+able to serve his country. This certainly is the test of merit; and the
+first foundation for deserving good-will is, having it yourself. The
+adversary of this orator at that time was Æschines, a man of wily arts
+and skill in the world, who could, as occasion served, fall in with a
+national start of passion, or sullenness of humor, which a whole nation
+is sometimes taken with as well as a private man; and by that means
+divert them from their common sense, into an aversion for receiving
+anything in its true light. But when Demosthenes had awakened his
+audience with that one hint of judging by the general tenor of his life
+towards them, his services bore down his opponent before him, who fled
+to the covert of his mean arts, until some more favorable opportunity
+should offer against the superior merit of Demosthenes.
+
+It were to be wished, that love of their country were the first
+principle of action in men of business, even for their own sakes; for
+when the world begins to examine into their conduct, the generality, who
+have no share in, or hopes of any part in power or riches, but what is
+the effect of their own labor or prosperity, will judge of them by no
+other method, than that of how profitable their administration has been
+to the whole. They who are out of the influence of men's fortune or
+favor, will let them stand or fall by this one only rule; and men who
+can bear being tried by it, are always popular in their fall. Those, who
+cannot suffer such a scrutiny, are contemptible in their advancement.
+
+But I am here running into shreds of maxims from reading Tacitus this
+morning, which has driven me from my recommendation of public spirit,
+which was the intended purpose of this lucubration. There is not a more
+glorious instance of it, than in the character of Regulus. This same
+Regulus was taken prisoner by the Carthaginians, and was sent by them to
+Rome, in order to demand some Punic noblemen, who were prisoners, in
+exchange for himself; and was bound by an oath that he would return to
+Carthage, if he failed in his commission. He proposes this to the
+senate, who were in suspense upon it, which Regulus observing, without
+having the least notion of putting the care of his own life in
+competition with the public good, desired them to consider that he was
+old, and almost useless; that those demanded in exchange were men of
+daring tempers, and great merit in military affairs; and wondered they
+would make any doubt of permitting him to go back to the short tortures
+prepared for him at Carthage, where he should have the advantage of
+ending a long life both gloriously and usefully. This generous advice
+was consented to; and he took his leave of his country and his weeping
+friends, to go to certain death, with that cheerful composure, as a man,
+after the fatigue of business in a court or a city, retires to the next
+village for the air.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _When the heart is right there is true patriotism_.
+
+        BISHOP BERKELEY.--1684-1753.
+
+
+
+
+XV. THE GOLDEN SCALES.
+
+JOSEPH ADDISON.--1672-1719.
+
+_From_ THE SPECTATOR, August 21, 1712.
+
+
+I was lately entertaining myself with comparing Homer's balance, in
+which Jupiter is represented as weighing the fates of Hector and
+Achilles, with a passage of Virgil, wherein that deity is introduced as
+weighing the fates of Turnus and Æneas. I then considered how the same
+way of thinking prevailed in the eastern parts of the world, as in those
+noble passages of Scripture, where we are told, that the great king of
+Babylon, the day before his death, had been weighed in the balance, and
+been found wanting. In other places of the holy writings the Almighty is
+described as weighing the mountains in scales, making the weight for the
+winds, knowing the balancings of the clouds; and, in others, as weighing
+the actions of men, and laying their calamities together in a balance.
+Milton, as I have observed in a former paper, had an eye to several of
+these foregoing instances, in that beautiful description wherein he
+represents the archangel and the evil spirit as addressing themselves
+for the combat, but parted by the balance which appeared in the heavens,
+and weighed the consequences of such a battle.
+
+    The Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray,
+    Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales, yet seen
+    Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign,
+    Wherein all things created first he weigh'd,
+    The pendulous round earth with balanced air
+    In counterpoise; now ponder; all events,
+    Battles and realms: in these he puts two weights,
+    The sequel each of parting and of fight:
+    The latter quick up flew, and kick'd the beam;
+    Which Gabriel spying, thus bespake the fiend.
+
+    "Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st mine,
+    Neither our own, but given; what folly then
+    To boast what arms can do! since thine no more
+    Than Heaven permits; nor mine, though doubled now
+    To trample thee as mire: for proof look up,
+    And read thy lot in yon celestial sign,
+    Where thou art weigh'd, and shewn how light, how weak,
+    If thou resist." The fiend look'd up and knew
+    His mounted scale aloft; nor more: but fled
+    Murm'ring, and with him fled the shades of night.
+
+These several amusing thoughts having taken possession of my mind some
+time before I went to sleep, and mingling themselves with my ordinary
+ideas, raised in my imagination a very odd kind of vision. I was,
+methought, replaced in my study, and seated in my elbow-chair, where I
+had indulged the foregoing speculations, with my lamp burning by me, as
+usual. Whilst I was here meditating on several subjects of morality, and
+considering the nature of many virtues and vices, as materials for those
+discourses with which I daily entertain the public; I saw, methought, a
+pair of golden scales hanging by a chain in the same metal over the
+table that stood before me; when, on a sudden, there were great heaps of
+weights thrown down on each side of them. I found upon examining these
+weights, they showed the value of everything that is in esteem among
+men. I made an essay of them, by putting the weight of wisdom in one
+scale, and that of riches in another, upon which the latter, to show its
+comparative lightness, immediately "flew up and kicked the beam."
+
+But, before I proceed, I must inform my reader, that these weights did
+not exert their natural gravity, till they were laid in the golden
+balance, insomuch that I could not guess which was light or heavy,
+whilst I held them in my hand. This I found by several instances, for
+upon my laying a weight in one of the scales, which was inscribed by the
+word Eternity; though I threw in that of time, prosperity, affliction,
+wealth, poverty, interest, success, with many other weights, which in my
+hand seemed very ponderous, they were not able to stir the opposite
+balance, nor could they have prevailed, though assisted with the weight
+of the sun, the stars, and the earth.
+
+Upon emptying the scales, I laid several titles and honors, with pomps,
+triumphs, and many weights of the like nature, in one of them, and
+seeing a little glittering weight lie by me, I threw it accidentally
+into the other scale, when, to my great surprise, it proved so exact a
+counterpoise, that it kept the balance in an equilibrium. This little
+glittering weight was inscribed upon the edges of it with the word
+Vanity. I found there were several other weights which were equally
+heavy, and exact counterpoises to one another; a few of them I tried, as
+avarice and poverty, riches and content, with some others.
+
+There were likewise several weights that were of the same figure, and
+seemed to correspond with each other, but were entirely different when
+thrown into the scales, as religion and hypocrisy, pedantry and
+learning, wit and vivacity, superstition and devotion, gravity and
+wisdom, with many others.
+
+I observed one particular weight lettered on both sides, and upon
+applying myself to the reading of it, I found on one side written "_In
+the dialect of men_," and underneath it, "CALAMITIES;" on the other side
+was written, "_In the language of the gods_," and underneath,
+"BLESSINGS." I found the intrinsic value of this weight to be much
+greater than I imagined, for it overpowered health, wealth,
+good-fortune, and many other weights, which were much more ponderous in
+my hand than the other.
+
+There is a saying among the Scotch, that "an ounce of mother is worth a
+pound of clergy;" I was sensible of the truth of this saying, when I saw
+the difference between the weight of natural parts and that of learning.
+The observation which I made upon these two weights opened to me a new
+field of discoveries, for notwithstanding the weight of natural parts
+was much heavier than that of learning, I observed that it weighed an
+hundred times heavier than it did before, when I put learning into the
+same scale with it. I made the same observation upon faith and morality;
+for notwithstanding the latter outweighed the former separately, it
+received a thousand times more additional weight from its conjunction
+with the former, than what it had by itself. This odd phenomenon showed
+itself in other particulars, as in wit and judgment, philosophy and
+religion, justice and humanity, zeal and charity, depth of sense and
+perspicuity of style, with innumerable other particulars, too long to be
+mentioned in this paper.
+
+As a dream seldom fails of dashing seriousness with impertinence, mirth
+with gravity, methought I made several other experiments of a more
+ludicrous nature, by one of which I found that an English octavo was
+very often heavier than a French folio; and by another, that an old
+Greek or Latin author weighed down a whole library of moderns. Seeing
+one of my _Spectators_ lying by me, I laid it into one of the scales,
+and flung a twopenny piece in the other. The reader will not inquire
+into the event, if he remembers the first trial which I have recorded in
+this paper. I afterwards threw both the sexes into the balance; but as
+it is not for my interest to disoblige either of them, I shall desire to
+be excused from telling the result of this experiment. Having an
+opportunity of this nature in my hands, I could not forbear throwing
+into one scale the principles of a Tory, and in the other those of a
+Whig; but as I have all along declared this to be a neutral paper, I
+shall likewise desire to be silent under this head also, though upon
+examining one of the weights, I saw the word TEKEL engraven on it in
+capital letters.
+
+I made many other experiments, and though I have not room for them all
+in this day's speculation, I may perhaps reserve them for another. I
+shall only add, that upon my awaking I was sorry to find my golden
+scales vanished, but resolved for the future to learn this lesson from
+them, not to despise or value any things for their appearances, but to
+regulate my esteem and passions towards them according to their real and
+intrinsic value.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _It must be so--Plato, thou reasonest well!--
+    Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
+    This longing after immortality?
+    Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
+    Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
+    Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
+    'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
+    'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
+    And intimates eternity to man._
+
+        _From Cato._--ADDISON.
+
+
+
+
+XVI. MISJUDGED HOSPITALITY.
+
+JONATHAN SWIFT.--1667-1745.
+
+_From_ THE TATLER, March 6, 1711.
+
+_Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes
+Emollit mores._
+
+OVID.
+
+
+Those inferior duties of life which the French call _les petites
+morales_, or the smaller morals, are with us distinguished by the name
+of good manners or breeding. This I look upon, in the general notion of
+it, to be a sort of artificial good sense, adapted to the meanest
+capacities, and introduced to make mankind easy in their commerce with
+each other. Low and little understandings, without some rules of this
+kind, would be perpetually wandering into a thousand indecencies and
+irregularities in behavior; and in their ordinary conversation, fall
+into the same boisterous familiarities that one observeth amongst them
+when a debauch hath quite taken away the use of their reason. In other
+instances, it is odd to consider, that for want of common discretion,
+the very end of good breeding is wholly perverted; and civility,
+intended to make us easy, is employed in laying chains and fetters upon
+us, in debarring us of our wishes, and in crossing our most reasonable
+desires and inclinations. This abuse reigneth chiefly in the country, as
+I found to my vexation, when I was last there, in a visit I made to a
+neighbor about two miles from my cousin. As soon as I entered the
+parlor, they put me into the great chair that stood close by a huge
+fire, and kept me there by force, until I was almost stifled. Then a boy
+came in great hurry to pull off my boots, which I in vain opposed,
+urging that I must return soon after dinner. In the meantime, the good
+lady whispered her eldest daughter, and slipped a key into her hand. The
+girl returned instantly with a beer-glass half full of _aqua mirabilis_
+and syrup of gillyflowers. I took as much as I had a mind for; but madam
+avowed I should drink it off--for she was sure it would do me good,
+after coming out of the cold air--and I was forced to obey; which
+absolutely took away my stomach. When dinner came in, I had a mind to
+sit at a distance from the fire; but they told me it was as much as my
+life was worth, and set me with my back just against it. Although my
+appetite was quite gone, I resolved to force down as much as I could;
+and desired the leg of a pullet. "Indeed, Mr. Bickerstaff," says the
+lady, "you must eat a wing, to oblige me;" and so put a couple upon my
+plate. I was persecuted at this rate during the whole meal. As often as
+I called for small-beer, the master tipped the wink, and the servant
+brought me a brimmer of October. Some time after dinner, I ordered my
+cousin's man, who came with me, to get ready the horses; but it was
+resolved I should not stir that night; and when I seemed pretty much
+bent upon going, they ordered the stable door to be locked; and the
+children hid my cloak and boots. The next question was, what I would
+have for supper. I said I never ate anything at night; but was at last,
+in my own defence, obliged to name the first thing that came into my
+head. After three hours spent chiefly in apologies for my entertainment,
+insinuating to me, "that this was the worst time of the year for
+provisions; that they were at a great distance from any market; that
+they were afraid I should be starved; and that they knew they kept me to
+my loss," the lady went, and left me to her husband--for they took
+special care I should never be alone. As soon as her back was turned,
+the little misses ran backward and forward every moment; and constantly
+as they came in, or went out, made a courtesy directly at me, which, in
+good manners, I was forced to return with a bow, and, "Your humble
+servant, pretty miss." Exactly at eight the mother came up, and
+discovered by the redness of her face that supper was not far off. It
+was twice as large as the dinner, and my persecution doubled in
+proportion. I desired, at my usual hour, to go to my repose, and was
+conducted to my chamber by the gentleman, his lady, and the whole train
+of children. They importuned me to drink something before I went to bed;
+and upon my refusing, at last left a bottle of _stingo_, as they called
+it, for fear I should wake and be thirsty in the night. I was forced in
+the morning to rise and dress myself in the dark, because they would not
+suffer my kinsman's servant to disturb me at the hour I desired to be
+called. I was now resolved to break through all measures to get away;
+and after sitting down to a monstrous breakfast of cold beef, mutton,
+neats' tongues, venison-pasty, and stale-beer, took leave of the family.
+But the gentleman would needs see me part of my way, and carry me a
+short-cut through his own grounds, which he told me would save half a
+mile's riding. This last piece of civility had like to have cost me
+dear, being once or twice in danger of my neck, by leaping over his
+ditches, and at last forced to alight in the dirt; when my horse, having
+slipped his bridle, ran away, and took us up more than an hour to
+recover him again. It is evident that none of the absurdities I met with
+in this visit proceeded from an ill intention, but from a wrong judgment
+of complaisance, and a misapplication in the rules of it.
+
+
+
+
+XVII. FROM THE "ESSAY ON MAN."[B]
+
+ALEXANDER POPE.--1688-1744.
+
+
+    Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate,
+    All but the page prescrib'd, their present state;
+    From brutes what men, from men what spirits know;
+    Or who could suffer being here below?
+    The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
+    Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
+    Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flowery food,
+    And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
+    O blindness to the future! kindly given,
+    That each may fill the circle mark'd by heaven;
+    Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
+    A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,
+    Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,
+    And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
+      Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
+    Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore.
+    What future bliss he gives not thee to know,
+    But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
+    Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
+    Man never is, but always to be, blest.
+    The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
+    Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
+      Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
+    Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
+    His soul proud science never taught to stray
+    Far as the solar walk, or milky way;
+    Yet simple nature to his hope has given,
+    Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heaven;
+    Some safer world in depth of woods embraced,
+    Some happier island in the watery waste,
+    Where slaves once more their native land behold,
+    No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
+    To be, contents his natural desire;
+    He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire;
+    But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,
+    His faithful dog shall bear him company.
+
+      What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread,
+    Or hand, to toil, aspir'd to be the head?
+    What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd
+    To serve mere engines to the ruling mind?
+    Just as absurd for any part to claim
+    To be another, in this general frame;
+    Just as absurd to mourn the tasks or pains
+    The great directing Mind of All ordains.
+      All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
+    Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;
+    That changed through all, and yet in all the same,
+    Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame,
+    Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
+    Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;
+    Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
+    Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
+    Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
+    As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
+    As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,
+    As the rapt seraph that adores and burns:
+    To him no high, no low, no great, no small;
+    He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
+
+      All nature is but art unknown to thee;
+    All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;
+    All discord, harmony not understood;
+    All partial evil, universal good:
+    And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
+    One truth is clear, _Whatever is, is right_.
+
+      Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
+    As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
+    Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
+    We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
+
+      Virtuous and vicious every man must be,
+    Few in the extreme, but all in the degree:
+    The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise;
+    And even the best by fits what they despise.
+
+      Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
+    Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw:
+    Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
+    A little louder, but as empty quite:
+    Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
+    And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age:
+    Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before,
+    Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
+
+      Has God, thou fool! work'd solely for thy good
+    Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food?
+    Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,
+    For him as kindly spreads the flowery lawn.
+    Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings?
+    Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings.
+    Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat?
+    Loves of his own and raptures swell the note.
+    The bounding steed you pompously bestride
+    Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride.
+    Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain?
+    The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain.
+    Thine the full harvest of the golden year?
+    Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer.
+    The hog, that ploughs not, nor obeys thy call,
+    Lives on the labors of this lord of all.
+      Know, Nature's children all divide her care;
+    The fur that warms a monarch warm'd a bear.
+    While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!"
+    "See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose:
+    And just as short of reason he must fall,
+    Who thinks all made for one, not one for all.
+
+      For forms of government let fools contest;
+    Whate'er is best administer'd is best:
+    For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
+    His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
+    In faith and hope the world will disagree,
+    But all mankind's concern is charity:
+    All must be false that thwart this one great end,
+    And all of God that bless mankind or mend.
+
+      Honor and shame from no condition rise;
+    Act well your part, there all the honor lies.
+    Fortune in men has some small difference made,
+    One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade;
+    The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd,
+    The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
+    "What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl?"
+    I'll tell you, friend, a wise man and a fool.
+    You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,
+    Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk,
+    Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow;
+    The rest is all but leather or prunello.
+
+      Go! if your ancient but ignoble blood
+    Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood,
+    Go! and pretend your family is young,
+    Nor own your fathers have been fools so long.
+    What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?
+    Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
+
+      Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
+    Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
+    Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
+    Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,
+    Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
+    Like Socrates,--that man is great indeed.
+
+    An honest man's the noblest work of God.
+
+    Know then this truth (enough for man to know),
+    "Virtue alone is happiness below."
+
+    ... Never elated while one man's oppress'd;
+    Never dejected while another's bless'd....[C]
+
+    See the sole bliss heaven could on all bestow!
+    Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know:
+    Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,
+    The bad must miss, the good untaught will find:
+    Slave to no sect, who takes no private road,
+    But looks through nature up to nature's God;
+    Pursues that chain which links the immense design,
+    Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine:
+    Sees that no being any bliss can know,
+    But touches some above and some below;
+    Learns from this union of the rising whole,
+    The first, last purpose of the human soul;
+    And knows where faith, law, morals, all began,
+    All end, in love of God and love of man.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[B] If the _Essay on Man_ were shivered into fragments, it would not
+lose its value: for it is precisely its details which constitute its
+moral as well as literary beauties.--A. W. WARD, _quoted by_ MARK
+PATTISON.
+
+
+[C] In these two lines, which, so far as I know, are the most
+complete, the most concise, and the most lofty expressions of moral
+temper existing in English words, Pope sums the law of noble life.
+
+RUSKIN, _Lectures on Art_.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII. RULE, BRITANNIA.
+
+JAMES THOMSON.--1700-1748.
+
+
+    When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
+      Arose from out the azure main,
+    This was the charter of the land,
+      And guardian angels sang this strain:
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    The nations not so blest as thee,
+      Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall,
+    Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and free,
+      The dread and envy of them all.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
+      More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
+    As the loud blast that tears the skies,
+      Serves but to root thy native oak.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
+      All their attempts to bend thee down
+    Will but arouse thy generous flame,
+      But work their woe and thy renown.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    To thee belongs the rural reign;
+      Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
+    All thine shall be the subject main,
+      And every shore it circles thine.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    The Muses, still with freedom found,
+      Shall to thy happy coast repair;
+    Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown'd,
+      And manly hearts to guard the fair.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+
+
+
+XIX. THE FIRST CRUSADE.
+
+DAVID HUME.--1711-1776.
+
+_From_ HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
+
+
+After Mahomet had, by means of his pretended revelations, united the
+dispersed Arabians under one head, they issued forth from their deserts
+in great multitudes; and being animated with zeal for their new
+religion, and supported by the vigor of their new government, they made
+deep impression on the eastern empire, which was far in the decline,
+with regard both to military discipline and to civil policy. Jerusalem,
+by its situation, became one of their most early conquests; and the
+Christians had the mortification to see the holy sepulchre, and the
+other places, consecrated by the presence of their religious founder,
+fallen into the possession of infidels. But the Arabians or Saracens
+were so employed in military enterprises, by which they spread their
+empire in a few years from the banks of the Ganges to the Straits of
+Gibraltar, that they had no leisure for theological controversy: and
+though the Alcoran, the original monument of their faith, seems to
+contain some violent precepts, they were much less infected with the
+spirit of bigotry and persecution than the indolent and speculative
+Greeks, who were continually refining on the several articles of their
+religious system. They gave little disturbance to those zealous
+pilgrims, who daily flocked to Jerusalem; and they allowed every man,
+after paying a moderate tribute, to visit the holy sepulchre, to perform
+his religious duties, and to return in peace. But the Turcomans or
+Turks, a tribe of Tartars, who had embraced Mahometanism, having wrested
+Syria from the Saracens, and having, in the year 1065, made themselves
+masters of Jerusalem, rendered the pilgrimage much more difficult and
+dangerous to the Christians. The barbarity of their manners, and the
+confusions attending their unsettled government, exposed the pilgrims to
+many insults, robberies, and extortions: and these zealots, returning
+from their meritorious fatigues and sufferings, filled all Christendom
+with indignation against the infidels, who profaned the holy city by
+their presence, and derided the sacred mysteries in the very place of
+their completion. Gregory VII., among the other vast ideas which he
+entertained, had formed the design of uniting all the Western Christians
+against the Mahometans; but the egregious and violent invasions of that
+pontiff on the civil power of princes, had created him so many enemies,
+and had rendered his schemes so suspicious, that he was not able to make
+great progress in this undertaking. The work was reserved for a meaner
+instrument, whose low condition in life exposed him to no jealousy, and
+whose folly was well calculated to coincide with the prevailing
+principles of the times.
+
+Peter, commonly called the Hermit, a native of Amiens in Picardy, had
+made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Being deeply affected with the dangers
+to which that act of piety now exposed the pilgrims, as well as with the
+instances of oppression under which the Eastern Christians labored, he
+entertained the bold, and, in all appearance, impracticable project of
+leading into Asia, from the farthest extremities of the West, armies
+sufficient to subdue those potent and warlike nations which now held the
+holy city in subjection. He proposed his views to Martin II., who filled
+the papal chair, and who, though sensible of the advantages which the
+head of the Christian religion must reap from a religious war, and
+though he esteemed the blind zeal of Peter a proper means for effecting
+the purpose, resolved not to interpose his authority, till he saw a
+greater probability of success. He summoned a council at Placentia,
+which consisted of four thousand ecclesiastics, and thirty thousand
+seculars; and which was so numerous that no hall could contain the
+multitude, and it was necessary to hold the assembly in a plain. The
+harangues of the Pope, and of Peter himself, representing the dismal
+situation of their brethren in the East, and the indignity suffered by
+the Christian name, in allowing the holy city to remain in the hands of
+infidels, here found the minds of men so well prepared, that the whole
+multitude suddenly and violently declared for the war, and solemnly
+devoted themselves to perform this service, so meritorious, as they
+believed it, to God and religion.
+
+But though Italy seemed thus to have zealously embraced the enterprise,
+Martin knew, that, in order to insure success, it was necessary to
+enlist the greater and more warlike nations in the same engagement; and
+having previously exhorted Peter to visit the chief cities and
+sovereigns of Christendom, he summoned another council at Clermont in
+Auvergne. The fame of this great and pious design being now universally
+diffused, procured the attendance of the greatest prelates, nobles, and
+princes; and when the Pope and the Hermit renewed their pathetic
+exhortations, the whole assembly, as if impelled by an immediate
+inspiration, not moved by their preceding impressions, exclaimed with
+one voice, _It is the will of God, It is the will of God!_--words deemed
+so memorable, and so much the result of a divine influence, that they
+were employed as the signal of rendezvous and battle in all the future
+exploits of those adventurers. Men of all ranks flew to arms with the
+utmost ardor; and an exterior symbol, too, a circumstance of chief
+moment, was here chosen by the devoted combatants. The sign of the
+cross, which had been hitherto so much revered among Christians, and
+which, the more it was an object of reproach among the Pagan world, was
+the more passionately cherished by them, became the badge of union, and
+was affixed to their right shoulder, by all who enlisted themselves in
+this sacred warfare.
+
+Europe was at this time sunk into profound ignorance and superstition.
+The ecclesiastics had acquired the greatest ascendant over the human
+mind: the people, who, being little restrained by honor, and less by
+law, abandoned themselves to the worst crimes and disorders, knew of no
+other expiation than the observances imposed on them by their spiritual
+pastors: and it was easy to represent the holy war as an equivalent for
+all penances, and an atonement for every violation of justice and
+humanity. But amidst the abject superstition which now prevailed, the
+military spirit also had universally diffused itself; and though not
+supported by art or discipline, was become the general passion of the
+nations governed by the feudal law. All the great lords possessed the
+right of peace and war: they were engaged in perpetual hostilities with
+each other: the open country was become a scene of outrage and disorder:
+the cities, still mean and poor, were neither guarded by walls nor
+protected by privileges, and were exposed to every insult: individuals
+were obliged to depend for safety on their own force, or their private
+alliances: and valor was the only excellence which was held in esteem,
+or gave one man the pre-eminence above another. When all the particular
+superstitions, therefore, were here united in one great object, the
+ardor for military enterprises took the same direction; and Europe,
+impelled by its two ruling passions, was loosened, as it were, from its
+foundations, and seemed to precipitate itself in one united body upon
+the East.
+
+All orders of men, deeming the Crusades the only road to heaven,
+enlisted themselves under these sacred banners, and were impatient to
+open the way with their sword to the holy city. Nobles, artisans,
+peasants, even priests, enrolled their names; and to decline this
+meritorious service was branded with the reproach of impiety, or, what
+perhaps was esteemed still more disgraceful, of cowardice and
+pusillanimity. The infirm and aged contributed to the expedition by
+presents and money; and many of them, not satisfied with the merit of
+this atonement, attended it in person, and were determined, if
+possible, to breathe their last in sight of that city where their
+Saviour had died for them. Women themselves, concealing their sex under
+the disguise of armor, attended the camp. The greatest criminals were
+forward in a service, which they regarded as a propitiation for all
+crimes; and the most enormous disorders were, during the course of those
+expeditions, committed by men enured to wickedness, encouraged by
+example, and impelled by necessity. The multitude of the adventurers
+soon became so great, that their more sagacious leaders, Hugh count of
+Vermandois, brother to the French king, Raymond count of Toulouse,
+Godfrey of Bouillon, prince of Brabant, and Stephen count of Blois,
+became apprehensive lest the greatness itself of the armament should
+disappoint its purpose; and they permitted an undisciplined multitude,
+computed at 300,000 men, to go before them, under the command of Peter
+the Hermit and Walter the Moneyless. These men took the road towards
+Constantinople through Hungary and Bulgaria; and trusting that Heaven,
+by supernatural assistance, would supply all their necessities, they
+made no provision for subsistance on their march. They soon found
+themselves obliged to obtain by plunder, what they had vainly expected
+from miracles; and the enraged inhabitants of the countries through
+which they passed, gathering together in arms, attacked the disorderly
+multitude and put them to slaughter without resistance. The more
+disciplined armies followed after; and passing the straights at
+Constantinople, they were mustered in the plains of Asia, and amounted
+in the whole to the number of 700,000 combatants....
+
+After the adventurers in the holy war were assembled on the banks of the
+Bosphorus, opposite to Constantinople, they proceeded on their
+enterprise; but immediately experienced those difficulties which their
+zeal had hitherto concealed from them, and for which, even if they had
+foreseen them, it would have been almost impossible to provide a remedy.
+The Greek emperor, Alexis Comnenus, who had applied to the Western
+Christians for succor against the Turks, entertained hopes, and those
+but feeble ones, of obtaining such a moderate supply, as, acting under
+his command, might enable him to repulse the enemy: but he was extremely
+astonished to see his dominions overwhelmed, on a sudden, by such an
+inundation of licentious barbarians, who, though they pretended
+friendship, despised his subjects as unwarlike, and detested them as
+heretical. By all the arts of policy, in which he excelled, he
+endeavored to divert the torrent; but while he employed professions,
+caresses, civilities, and seeming services towards the leaders of the
+crusade, he secretly regarded those imperious allies as more dangerous
+than the open enemies by whom his empire had been formerly invaded.
+Having effected that difficult point of disembarking them safely in
+Asia, he entered into a private correspondence with Soliman, emperor of
+the Turks; and practised every insidious art, which his genius, his
+power, or his situation, enabled him to employ, for disappointing the
+enterprise, and discouraging the Latins from making thenceforward any
+such prodigious migrations. His dangerous policy was seconded by the
+disorders inseparable from so vast a multitude, who were not united
+under one head, and were conducted by leaders of the most independent
+intractable spirit, unacquainted with military discipline, and
+determined enemies to civil authority and submission. The scarcity of
+provisions, the excesses of fatigue, the influence of unknown climates,
+joined to the want of concert in their operations, and to the sword of a
+warlike enemy, destroyed the adventurers by thousands, and would have
+abated the ardor of men impelled to war by less powerful motives. Their
+zeal, however, their bravery, and their irresistible force, still
+carried them forward, and continually advanced them to the great end of
+their enterprise. After an obstinate siege they took Nice, the seat of
+the Turkish empire; they defeated Soliman in two great battles; they
+made themselves masters of Antioch; and entirely broke the force of the
+Turks, who had so long retained those countries in subjection. The
+soldan of Egypt, whose alliance they had hitherto courted, recovered, on
+the fall of the Turkish power, his former authority in Jerusalem; and he
+informed them by his ambassadors, that if they came disarmed to that
+city, they might now perform their religious vows, and that all
+Christian pilgrims, who should thenceforth visit the holy sepulchre,
+might expect the same good treatment which they had ever received from
+his predecessors. The offer was rejected; the soldan was required to
+yield up the city to the Christians; and on his refusal, the champions
+of the cross advanced to the siege of Jerusalem, which they regarded as
+the consummation of their labors. By the detachments which they had
+made, and the disasters which they had undergone, they were diminished
+to the number of twenty thousand foot, and fifteen hundred horse; but
+these were still formidable, from their valor, their experience, and the
+obedience which, from past calamities, they had learned to pay to their
+leaders. After a siege of five weeks, they took Jerusalem by assault;
+and, impelled by a mixture of military and religious rage, they put the
+numerous garrison and inhabitants to the sword without distinction.
+
+Neither arms defended the valiant, nor submission the timorous: no age
+or sex was spared: infants on the breast were pierced by the same blow
+with their mothers, who implored for mercy: even a multitude to the
+number of ten thousand persons, who had surrendered themselves
+prisoners, and were promised quarter, were butchered in cold blood by
+those ferocious conquerors. The streets of Jerusalem were covered with
+dead bodies; and the triumphant warriors, after every enemy was subdued
+and slaughtered, immediately turned themselves, with the sentiments of
+humiliation and contrition, towards the holy sepulchre. They threw aside
+their arms, still streaming with blood: they advanced with reclined
+bodies, and naked feet and heads, to that sacred monument: they sang
+anthems to their Saviour, who had there purchased their salvation by his
+death and agony: and their devotion, enlivened by the presence of the
+place where he had suffered, so overcame their fury, that they dissolved
+in tears, and bore the appearance of every soft and tender sentiment. So
+inconsistent is human nature with itself! and so easily does the most
+effeminate superstition ally, both with the most heroic courage and with
+the fiercest barbarity!
+
+This great event happened on the fifth of July in the last year of the
+eleventh century. The Christian princes and nobles, after choosing
+Godfrey of Bouillon king of Jerusalem, began to settle themselves in
+their new conquests; while some of them returned to Europe, in order to
+enjoy at home that glory, which their valor had acquired them in this
+popular and meritorious enterprise.
+
+
+
+
+XX. THE BARD.
+
+_A Pindaric Ode._[D]
+
+THOMAS GRAY.--1716-1771.
+
+
+I. 1.
+
+    "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
+      Confusion on thy banners wait;
+    Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing,
+      They mock the air with idle state.
+    Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
+    Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
+      To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
+      From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"
+    Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
+      Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,
+    As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
+      He wound with toilsome march his long array.
+    Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance:
+    "To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering lance.
+
+
+I. 2.
+
+      On a rock, whose haughty brow
+    Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
+      Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,
+    With haggard eyes the Poet stood;
+    (Loose his beard, and hoary hair
+    Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air),
+    And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
+    Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
+      "Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,
+    Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
+    O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,
+      Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
+    Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
+    To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
+
+
+I. 3.
+
+      "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
+      That hush'd the stormy main:
+    Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:
+      Mountains, ye mourn in vain
+      Modred, whose magic song
+    Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.
+      On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,
+    Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale:
+    Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;
+      The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.
+    Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
+      Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes,
+    Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
+      Ye died amidst your dying country's cries--
+    No more I weep. They do not sleep.
+      On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,
+    I see them sit; they linger yet,
+      Avengers of their native land:
+    With me in dreadful harmony they join,
+    And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
+
+
+II. 1.
+
+      "Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
+    The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
+      Give ample room, and verge enough
+    The characters of hell to trace.
+    Mark the year, and mark the night,
+    When Severn shall re-echo with affright
+    The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring,
+    Shrieks of an agonizing king!
+      She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,
+    That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
+      From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
+    The scourge of heaven. What terrors round him wait!
+    Amazement in his van, with flight combin'd,
+    And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
+
+
+II. 2.
+
+      "Mighty victor, mighty lord!
+    Low on his funeral couch he lies!
+      No pitying heart, no eye, afford
+    A tear to grace his obsequies.
+      Is the sable warrior fled?
+    Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
+    The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born?
+    Gone to salute the rising morn.
+    Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows,
+      While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
+    In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;
+      Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
+    Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway,
+    That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
+
+
+II. 3.
+
+      "Fill high the sparkling bowl,
+    The rich repast prepare;
+      Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:
+    Close by the regal chair
+      Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
+      A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
+    Heard ye the din of battle bray,
+      Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
+      Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course,
+    And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.
+      Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
+    With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
+      Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
+    And spare the meek usurper's holy head.
+    Above, below, the rose of snow,
+      Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread:
+    The bristled boar in infant-gore
+      Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
+    Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursèd loom,
+    Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
+
+
+III. 1.
+
+      "Edward, lo! to sudden fate
+    (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)
+      Half of thy heart we consecrate.
+    (The web is wove. The work is done.)
+    Stay, O stay! nor thus forlorn
+    Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn:
+    In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,
+    They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
+    But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
+      Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
+    Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
+      Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
+    No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
+    All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!
+
+
+III. 2.
+
+      "Girt with many a baron bold
+    Sublime their starry fronts they rear;
+      And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
+    In bearded majesty, appear.
+    In the midst a form divine!
+    Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;
+    Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,
+    Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.
+    What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
+      What strains of vocal transport round her play.
+    Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear
+      They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
+    Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings,
+    Waves in the eye of heaven her many-color'd wings.
+
+
+III. 3.
+
+    "The verse adorn again
+      Fierce War, and faithful Love,
+    And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.
+      In buskin'd measures move
+    Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
+    With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
+      A voice, as of the cherub-choir,
+    Gales from blooming Eden bear;
+    And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
+      That lost in long futurity expire.
+    Fond impious man, thinks thou yon sanguine cloud,
+      Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?
+    To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,
+      And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
+    Enough for me: with joy I see
+      The different doom our fates assign.
+    Be thine despair, and sceptred care;
+      To triumph, and to die, are mine."
+    He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
+    Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[D] This ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward
+the First, when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered
+all the Bards that fell into his hands to be put to death.--GRAY.
+
+
+
+
+XXI. ON AN ADDRESS TO THE THRONE CONCERNING AFFAIRS IN AMERICA.
+
+HOUSE OF LORDS--November 18th, 1777.
+
+LORD CHATHAM.--1708-1778.
+
+
+I rise, my Lords, to declare my sentiments on this most solemn and
+serious subject. It has imposed a load upon my mind, which, I fear,
+nothing can remove, but which impels me to endeavor its alleviation, by
+a free and unreserved communication of my sentiments.
+
+In the first part of the address, I have the honor of heartily
+concurring with the noble Earl who moved it. No man feels sincerer joy
+than I do; none can offer more genuine congratulations on every
+accession of strength to the Protestant succession. I therefore join in
+every congratulation on the birth of another princess, and the happy
+recovery of her Majesty.
+
+But I must stop here. My courtly complaisance will carry me no farther.
+I will not join in congratulation on misfortune and disgrace. I cannot
+concur in a blind and servile address, which approves and endeavors to
+sanctify the monstrous measures which have heaped disgrace and
+misfortune upon us. This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment!
+It is not a time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery cannot now
+avail--cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now
+necessary to instruct the Throne in the language of truth. We must
+dispel the illusion and the darkness which envelop it, and display, in
+its full danger and true colors, the ruin that is brought to our doors.
+
+This, my Lords, is our duty. It is the proper function of this
+noble assembly, sitting, as we do, upon our honors in this House,
+the hereditary council of the Crown. _Who_ is the minister--_where_
+is the minister, that has dared to suggest to the Throne the
+contrary, unconstitutional language this day delivered from it? The
+accustomed language from the Throne has been application to
+Parliament for advice, and a reliance on its constitutional advice
+and assistance. As it is the right of Parliament to give, so it is
+the duty of the Crown to ask it. But on this day, and in this
+extreme momentous exigency, no reliance is reposed on our
+constitutional counsels! no advice is asked from the sober and
+enlightened care of Parliament! but the Crown, from itself and by
+itself, declares an unalterable determination to pursue
+measures--and what measures, my Lords? The measures that have
+produced the imminent perils that threaten us; the measures that
+have brought ruin to our doors.
+
+Can the minister of the day now presume to expect a continuance of
+support in this ruinous infatuation? Can Parliament be so dead to its
+dignity and its duty as to be thus deluded into the loss of the one and
+the violation of the other? To give an unlimited credit and support for
+the steady perseverance in measures not proposed for our parliamentary
+advice, but dictated and forced upon us--in measures, I say, my Lords,
+which have reduced this late flourishing empire to ruin and contempt!
+"But yesterday, and England might have stood against the world: now none
+so poor to do her reverence." I use the words of a poet; but, though it
+be poetry, it is no fiction. It is a shameful truth, that not only the
+power and strength of this country are wasting away and expiring, but
+her well-earned glories, her true honor, and substantial dignity are
+sacrificed.
+
+France, my Lords, has insulted you; she has encouraged and sustained
+America; and, whether America be wrong or right, the dignity of
+this country ought to spurn at the officious insult of French
+interference. The ministers and ambassadors of those who are called
+rebels and enemies are in Paris; in Paris they transact the
+reciprocal interests of America and France. Can there be a more
+mortifying insult? Can even our ministers sustain a more humiliating
+disgrace? Do they dare to resent it? Do they presume even to hint a
+vindication of their honor, and the dignity of the State, by
+requiring the dismission of the plenipotentiaries of America? Such
+is the degradation to which they have reduced the glories of
+England! The people whom they affect to call contemptible rebels,
+but whose growing power has at last obtained the name of enemies;
+the people with whom they have engaged this country in war, and
+against whom they now command our implicit support in every measure
+of desperate hostility--this people, despised as rebels, or
+acknowledged as enemies, are abetted against you, supplied with
+every military store, their interests consulted, and their
+ambassadors entertained, by your inveterate enemy! and our ministers
+dare not interpose with dignity or effect. Is this the honor of a
+great kingdom? Is this the indignant spirit of England, who "but
+yesterday" gave law to the house of Bourbon? My Lords, the dignity
+of nations demands a decisive conduct in a situation like this....
+
+My Lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation, where we can
+not act with success, nor suffer with honor, calls upon us to
+remonstrate in the strongest and loudest language of truth, to
+rescue the ear of majesty from the delusions which surround it. The
+desperate state of our arms abroad is in part known. No man thinks
+more highly of them than I do. I love and honor the English troops.
+I know their virtues and their valor. I know they can achieve
+anything except impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of
+English America _is an impossibility_. You cannot, I venture to say
+it, _you cannot_ conquer America. Your armies in the last war
+effected everything that could be effected; and what was it? It cost
+a numerous army, under the command of a most able general [Lord
+Amherst], now a noble Lord in this House, a long and laborious
+campaign, to expel five thousand Frenchmen from French America. My
+Lords, _you cannot conquer America_. What is your present situation
+there? We do not know the worst; but we know that in three campaigns
+we have done nothing and suffered much. Besides the sufferings,
+perhaps _total loss_ of the Northern force, the best appointed army
+that ever took the field, commanded by Sir William Howe, has retired
+from the American lines. _He was obliged_ to relinquish his attempt,
+and with great delay and danger to adopt a new and distant plan of
+operations. We shall soon know, and in any event have reason to
+lament, what may have happened since. As to conquest, therefore, my
+Lords, I repeat, it is impossible. You may swell every expense and
+every effort still more extravagantly; pile and accumulate every
+assistance you can buy or borrow; traffic and barter with every
+little pitiful German prince that sells and sends his subjects to
+the shambles of a foreign prince; your efforts are forever vain and
+impotent--doubly so from this mercenary aid on which you rely; for
+it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your enemies,
+to overrun them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder,
+devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling
+cruelty! If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a
+foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my
+arms--never--never--never.
+
+But, my Lords, who is the man, that, in addition to these disgraces
+and mischiefs of our army, has dared to authorize and associate to
+our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage? to call into
+civilized alliance the wild and inhuman savage of the woods; to
+delegate to the merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and
+to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren? My
+Lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. Unless
+thoroughly done away, it will be a stain on the national character.
+It is a violation of the Constitution. I believe it is against law.
+It is not the least of our national misfortunes that the strength
+and character of our army are thus impaired. Infected with the
+mercenary spirit of robbery and rapine, familiarized to the horrid
+scenes of savage cruelty, it can no longer boast of the noble and
+generous principles which dignify a soldier, no longer sympathize
+with the dignity of the royal banner, nor feel the pride, pomp, and
+circumstance of glorious war, "that make ambition virtue!" What
+makes ambition virtue?--the sense of honor. But is the sense of
+honor consistent with a spirit of plunder, or the practice of
+murder? Can it flow from mercenary motives, or can it prompt to
+cruel deeds?
+
+The independent views of America have been stated and asserted as the
+foundation of this address. My Lords, no man wishes for the due
+dependence of America on this country more than I do. To preserve it,
+and not confirm that state of independence into which your measures
+hitherto have driven them, is the object which we ought to unite in
+attaining. The Americans, contending for their rights against arbitrary
+exactions, I love and admire. It is the struggle of free and virtuous
+patriots. But, contending for independency and total disconnection from
+England, as an Englishman, I cannot wish them success; for in a due
+constitutional dependency, including the ancient supremacy of this
+country in regulating their commerce and navigation, consists the mutual
+happiness and prosperity both of England and America. She derived
+assistance and protection from us; and we reaped from her the most
+important advantages. She was, indeed, the fountain of our wealth, the
+nerve of our strength, the nursery and basis of our naval power. It is
+our duty, therefore, my Lords, if we wish to save our country, most
+seriously to endeavor the recovery of these most beneficial subjects;
+and in this perilous crisis, perhaps the present moment may be the only
+one in which we can hope for success. For in their negotiations with
+France, they have, or think they have, reason to complain; though it be
+notorious that they have received from that power important supplies and
+assistance of various kinds, yet it is certain they expected it in a
+more decisive and immediate degree. America is in ill humor with France;
+on some points they have not entirely answered her expectations. Let us
+wisely take advantage of every possible moment of reconciliation.
+Besides, the natural disposition of America herself still leans toward
+England; to the old habits of connection and mutual interest that united
+both countries. This _was_ the established sentiment of all the
+continent; and still, my Lords, in the great and principal part, the
+sound part of America, this wise and affectionate disposition prevails.
+And there is a very considerable part of America yet sound--the middle
+and the southern provinces. Some parts may be factious and blind to
+their true interests; but if we express a wise and benevolent
+disposition to communicate with them those immutable rights of nature
+and those constitutional liberties to which they are equally entitled
+with ourselves, by a conduct so just and humane we shall confirm the
+favorable and conciliate the adverse. I say, my Lords, the rights and
+liberties to which they are equally entitled with ourselves, _but no
+more_. I would participate to them every enjoyment and freedom which the
+colonizing subjects of a free state can possess, or wish to possess; and
+I do not see why they should not enjoy every fundamental right in their
+property, and every original substantial liberty, which Devonshire, or
+Surrey, or the county I live in, or any other county in England, can
+claim; reserving always, as the sacred right of the mother country, the
+due constitutional dependency of the colonies. The inherent supremacy of
+the state in regulating and protecting the navigation and commerce of
+all her subjects, is necessary for the mutual benefit and preservation
+of every part, to constitute and preserve the prosperous arrangement of
+the whole empire.
+
+The sound parts of America, of which I have spoken, must be sensible of
+these great truths and of their real interests. America is not in that
+state of desperate and contemptible rebellion which this country has
+been deluded to believe. It is not a wild and lawless banditti, who,
+having nothing to lose, might hope to snatch something from public
+convulsions. Many of their leaders and great men have a great stake in
+this great contest. The gentleman who conducts their armies, I am told,
+has an estate of four or five thousand pounds a year; and when I
+consider these things, I cannot but lament the inconsiderate violence of
+our penal acts, our declaration of treason and rebellion, with all the
+fatal effects of attainder and confiscation.
+
+As to the disposition of foreign powers which is asserted [in the King's
+speech] to be pacific and friendly, let us judge, my Lords, rather by
+their actions and the nature of things than by interested assertions.
+The uniform assistance supplied to America by France suggests a
+different conclusion. The most important interests of France in
+aggrandizing and enriching herself with what she most wants, supplies of
+every naval store from America, must inspire her with different
+sentiments. The extraordinary preparations of the House of Bourbon, by
+land and by sea, from Dunkirk to the Straits, equally ready and willing
+to overwhelm these defenceless islands, should rouse us to a sense of
+their real disposition and our own danger. Not five thousand troops in
+England! hardly three thousand in Ireland! What can we oppose to the
+combined force of our enemies? Scarcely twenty ships of the line so
+fully or sufficiently manned, that any admiral's reputation would permit
+him to take the command of. The river of Lisbon in the possession of our
+enemies! The seas swept by American privateers! Our Channel trade torn
+to pieces by them! In this complicated crisis of danger, weakness at
+home, and calamity abroad, terrified and insulted by the neighboring
+powers, unable to act in America, or acting only to be destroyed, where
+is the man with the forehead to promise or hope for success in such a
+situation, or from perseverance in the measures that have driven us to
+it? Who has the forehead to do so? Where is that man? I should be glad
+to see his face.
+
+You cannot _conciliate_ America by your present measures. You cannot
+_subdue_ her by your present or by any measures. What, then, can you do?
+You cannot conquer; you cannot gain; but you can _address_; you can lull
+the fears and anxieties of the moment into an ignorance of the danger
+that should produce them. But, my Lords, the time demands the language
+of truth. We must not now apply the flattering unction of servile
+compliance or blind complaisance. In a just and necessary war, to
+maintain the rights or honor of my country, I would strip the shirt from
+my back to support it. But in such a war as this, unjust in its
+principle, impracticable in its means, and ruinous in its consequences,
+I would not contribute a single effort nor a single shilling. I do not
+call for vengeance on the heads of those who have been guilty; I only
+recommend to them to make their retreat. Let them walk off; and let them
+make haste, or they may be assured that speedy and condign punishment
+will overtake them.
+
+My Lords, I have submitted to you, with the freedom and truth which I
+think my duty, my sentiments on your present awful situation. I have
+laid before you the ruin of your power, the disgrace of your reputation,
+the pollution of your discipline, the contamination of your morals, the
+complication of calamities, foreign and domestic, that overwhelm your
+sinking country. Your dearest interests, your own liberties, the
+Constitution itself totters to the foundation. All this disgraceful
+danger, this multitude of misery, is the monstrous offspring of this
+unnatural war. We have been deceived and deluded too long. Let us now
+stop short. This is the crisis--the only crisis of time and situation,
+to give us a possibility of escape from the fatal effects of our
+delusions. But if, in an obstinate and infatuated perseverance in folly,
+we slavishly echo the peremptory words this day presented to us, nothing
+can save this devoted country from complete and final ruin. We madly
+rush into multiplied miseries, and "confusion worse confounded."
+
+Is it possible, can it be believed, that ministers are yet blind to this
+impending destruction? I did hope, that instead of this false and empty
+vanity, this overweening pride, engendering high conceits and
+presumptuous imaginations, ministers would have humbled themselves in
+their errors, would have confessed and retracted them, and by an active,
+though a late, repentance, have endeavored to redeem them. But, my
+Lords, since they had neither sagacity to foresee, nor justice nor
+humanity to shun these oppressive calamities--since not even severe
+experience can make them feel, nor the imminent ruin of their country
+awaken them from their stupefaction, the guardian care of Parliament
+must interpose. I shall, therefore, my Lords, propose to you an
+amendment of the address to his Majesty, to be inserted immediately
+after the two first paragraphs of congratulation on the birth of a
+princess, to recommend an immediate cessation of hostilities, and the
+commencement of a treaty to restore peace and liberty to America,
+strength and happiness to England, security and permanent prosperity to
+both countries. This, my Lords, is yet in our power; and let not the
+wisdom and justice of your Lordships neglect the happy, and, perhaps,
+the only opportunity. By the establishment of irrevocable law, founded
+on mutual rights, and ascertained by treaty, these glorious enjoyments
+may be firmly perpetuated. And let me repeat to your Lordships, that the
+strong bias of America, at least of the wise and sounder parts of it,
+naturally inclines to this happy and constitutional reconnection with
+you. Notwithstanding the temporary intrigues with France, we may still
+be assured of their ancient and confirmed partiality to us. America and
+France _cannot_ be congenial.
+
+My Lords, to encourage and confirm that innate inclination to this
+country, founded on every principle of affection, as well as
+consideration of interest; to restore that favorable disposition into a
+permanent and powerful reunion with this country; to revive the mutual
+strength of the empire; again to awe the House of Bourbon, instead of
+meanly truckling, as our present calamities compel us, to every insult
+of French caprice and Spanish punctilio; to re-establish our commerce;
+to reassert our rights and our honor; to confirm our interests, and
+renew our glories forever--a consummation most devoutly to be
+endeavored! and which, I trust, may yet arise from reconciliation with
+America--I have the honor of submitting to you the following amendment,
+which I move to be inserted after the two first paragraphs of the
+address:
+
+    "And that this House does most humbly advise and supplicate his
+    Majesty to be pleased to cause the most speedy and effectual
+    measures to be taken for restoring peace in America; and that no
+    time may be lost in proposing an immediate opening of a treaty
+    for the final settlement of the tranquillity of these invaluable
+    provinces, by a removal of the unhappy causes of this ruinous
+    civil war, and by a just and adequate security against the
+    return of the like calamities in times to come. And this House
+    desire to offer the most dutiful assurances to his Majesty, that
+    they will, in due time, cheerfully co-operate with the
+    magnanimity and tender goodness of his Majesty for the
+    preservation of his people, by such explicit and most solemn
+    declarations, and provisions of fundamental and irrevocable
+    laws, as may be judged necessary for the ascertaining and fixing
+    forever the respective rights of Great Britain and her
+    colonies."
+
+
+
+
+XXII. FROM "THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD."
+
+THE FAMILY USE ART, WHICH IS OPPOSED WITH STILL GREATER.
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH.--1728-1774.
+
+
+Whatever might have been Sophia's sensations, the rest of the family was
+easily consoled for Mr. Burchell's absence by the company of our
+landlord, whose visits now became more frequent and longer. Though he
+had been disappointed in procuring my daughters the amusements of the
+town, as he designed, he took every opportunity of supplying them with
+those little recreations which our retirement would admit of. He usually
+came in the morning, and while my son and I followed our occupations
+abroad, he sat with the family at home, and amused them by describing
+the town, with every part of which he was particularly acquainted. He
+could repeat all the observations that were retailed in the atmosphere
+of the play-houses, and had all the good things of the high wits by rote
+long before they made their way into the jest-books. The intervals
+between conversation were employed in teaching my daughters piquet, or
+sometimes in setting my two little ones to box to make them _sharp_, as
+he called it; but the hopes of having him for a son-in-law, in some
+measure blinded us to all his imperfections. It must be owned that my
+wife laid a thousand schemes to entrap him; or, to speak it more
+tenderly, used every art to magnify the merit of her daughter. If the
+cakes at tea ate short and crisp, they were made by Olivia: if the
+gooseberry wine was well knit, the gooseberries were of her gathering:
+it was her fingers that gave the pickles their peculiar green; and in
+the composition of a pudding, it was her judgment that mixed the
+ingredients. Then the poor woman would sometimes tell the 'squire, that
+she thought him and Olivia extremely of a size, and would bid both stand
+up to see which was tallest. These instances of cunning, which she
+thought impenetrable, yet which everybody saw through, were very
+pleasing to our benefactor, who gave every day some new proofs of his
+passion, which, though they had not risen to proposals of marriage, yet
+we thought fell but little short of it; and his slowness was attributed
+sometimes to native bashfulness, and sometimes to his fear of offending
+his uncle. An occurrence, however, which happened soon after, put it
+beyond a doubt that he designed to become one of our family; my wife
+even regarded it as an absolute promise.
+
+My wife and daughters happening to return a visit to neighbor
+Flamborough's, found that family had lately got their pictures drawn by
+a limner, who travelled the country, and took likenesses for fifteen
+shillings a head. As this family and ours had long a sort of rivalry in
+point of taste, our spirit took the alarm at this stolen march upon us,
+and notwithstanding all I could say, and I said much, it was resolved
+that we should have our pictures done too. Having, therefore, engaged
+the limner, for what could I do? our next deliberation was to shew the
+superiority of our taste in the attitudes. As for our neighbor's family,
+there were seven of them, and they were drawn with seven oranges, a
+thing quite out of taste, no variety in life, no composition in the
+world. We desired to have something in a brighter style, and after many
+debates, at length came to an unanimous resolution of being drawn
+together in one large historical family piece. This would be cheaper,
+since one frame would serve for all, and it would be infinitely more
+genteel; for all families of any taste were now drawn in the same
+manner. As we did not immediately recollect an historical subject to hit
+us, we were contented each with being drawn as independent historical
+figures. My wife desired to be represented as Venus, and the painter was
+desired not to be too frugal of his diamonds in her stomacher and hair.
+Her two little ones were to be as Cupids by her side, while I, with my
+gown and band, was to present her with my books on the Whistonian
+controversy. Olivia would be drawn as an Amazon, sitting upon a bank of
+flowers, dressed in a green Joseph richly laced with gold, and a whip in
+her hand. Sophia was to be a shepherdess, with as many sheep as the
+painter could put in for nothing; and Moses was to be dressed out with
+an hat and white feather. Our taste so much pleased the 'squire, that he
+insisted on being put in as one of the family, in the character of
+Alexander the Great, at Olivia's feet. This was considered by us all as
+an indication of his desire to be introduced into the family, nor could
+we refuse his request. The painter was therefore set to work, and as he
+wrought with assiduity and expedition, in less than four days the whole
+was completed. The piece was large, and it must be owned he did not
+spare his colors; for which my wife gave him great encomiums. We were
+all perfectly satisfied with his performance; but an unfortunate
+circumstance had not occurred till the picture was finished, which now
+struck us with dismay. It was so very large that we had no place in the
+house to fix it. How we all came to disregard so material a point is
+inconceivable; but certain it is, we had been all greatly remiss. The
+picture, therefore, instead of gratifying our vanity, as we hoped,
+leaned, in a most mortifying manner, against the kitchen wall, where the
+canvas was stretched and painted, much too large to be got through any
+of the doors, and the jest of all our neighbors. One compared it to
+Robinson Crusoe's long-boat, too large to be removed; another thought it
+more resembled a reel in a bottle; some wondered how it could be got
+out, but still more were amazed how it ever got in.
+
+But though it excited the ridicule of some, it effectually raised more
+malicious suggestions in many. The 'squire's portrait being found united
+with ours, was an honor too great to escape envy. Scandalous whispers
+began to circulate at our expense, and our tranquillity was continually
+disturbed by persons who came as friends to tell us what was said of us
+by enemies. These reports we always resented with becoming spirit; but
+scandal ever improves by opposition.
+
+We once again therefore entered into a consultation upon obviating the
+malice of our enemies, and at last came to a resolution which had too
+much cunning to give me entire satisfaction. It was this: as our
+principal object was to discover the honor of Mr. Thornhill's addresses,
+my wife undertook to sound him by pretending to ask his advice in the
+choice of an husband for her eldest daughter. If this was not found
+sufficient to induce him to a declaration, it was then resolved to
+terrify him with a rival. To this last step, however, I would by no
+means give my consent, till Olivia gave me the most solemn assurances
+that she would marry the person provided to rival him upon this
+occasion, if he did not prevent it, by taking her himself. Such was the
+scheme laid, which, though I did not strenuously oppose, I did not
+entirely approve.
+
+The next time, therefore, that Mr. Thornhill came to see us, my girls
+took care to be out of the way, in order to give their mamma an
+opportunity of putting her scheme in execution; but they only retired to
+the next room, whence they could overhear the whole conversation: my
+wife artfully introduced it, by observing, that one of the Miss
+Flamboroughs was like to have a very good match of it in Mr. Spanker. To
+this the 'squire assenting, she proceeded to remark, that they who had
+warm fortunes were always sure of getting good husbands: "But heaven
+help," continued she, "the girls that have none. What signifies beauty,
+Mr. Thornhill? or what signifies all the virtue, and all the
+qualifications in the world, in this age of self-interest? It is not,
+what is she? but, what has she? is all the cry."
+
+"Madam," returned he, "I highly approve the justice, as well as the
+novelty, of your remarks, and if I were a king, it should be otherwise.
+It should then, indeed, be fine times for the girls without fortunes:
+our two young ladies should be the first for whom I would provide."
+
+"Ah, sir," returned my wife, "you are pleased to be facetious: but I
+wish I were a queen, and then I know where my eldest daughter should
+look for an husband. But now that you have put it into my head,
+seriously, Mr. Thornhill, can't you recommend me a proper husband for
+her? She is now nineteen years old, well grown and well educated, and,
+in my humble opinion, does not want for parts."
+
+"Madam," replied he, "if I were to choose, I would find out a person
+possessed of every accomplishment that can make an angel happy. One with
+prudence, fortune, taste, and sincerity; such, madam, would be, in my
+opinion, the proper husband." "Ay, sir," said she, "but do you know of
+any such person?"--"No, Madam," returned he, "it is impossible to know
+any person that deserves to be her husband: she's too great a treasure
+for one man's possession: she's a goddess. Upon my soul, I speak what I
+think, she's an angel"--"Ah, Mr. Thornhill, you only flatter my poor
+girl: but we have been thinking of marrying her to one of your tenants,
+whose mother is lately dead, and who wants a manager; you know whom I
+mean, farmer Williams; a warm man, Mr. Thornhill, able to give her good
+bread; and who has several times made her proposals:" (which was
+actually the case) "but, sir," concluded she, "I should be glad to have
+your approbation of our choice."--"How, Madam," replied he, "my
+approbation! My approbation of such a choice! Never. What! Sacrifice so
+much beauty and sense, and goodness, to a creature insensible of the
+blessing! Excuse me, I can never approve of such a piece of injustice!
+And I have my reasons!"--"Indeed, sir," cried Deborah, "If you have your
+reasons, that's another affair; but I should be glad to know those
+reasons."--"Excuse me, madam," returned he, "they lie too deep for
+discovery;" (laying his hand upon his bosom) "they remain buried,
+rivetted here."
+
+After he was gone, upon general consultation, we could not tell what to
+make of these fine sentiments. Olivia considered them as instances of
+the most exalted passion; but I was not quite so sanguine: yet, whatever
+they might portend, it was resolved to prosecute the scheme of farmer
+Williams, who, from my daughter's first appearance in the country, had
+paid her his addresses.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII. MEETING OF JOHNSON WITH WILKES.
+
+(1776).
+
+JAMES BOSWELL.--1740-1795.
+
+_From_ LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D.
+
+
+I am now to record a very curious incident in Dr. Johnson's life, which
+fell under my own observation; of which _pars magna fui_, and which I am
+persuaded will, with the liberal-minded, be much to his credit.
+
+My desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every description
+had made me, much about the same time, obtain an introduction to Dr.
+Samuel Johnson and to John Wilkes, Esq. Two men more different could not
+perhaps be selected out of all mankind. They had even attacked one
+another with some asperity in their writings; yet I lived in habits of
+friendship with both. I could fully relish the excellence of each; for I
+have ever delighted in that intellectual chemistry, which can separate
+good qualities from evil in the same person.
+
+Sir John Pringle, "mine own friend and my father's friend," between whom
+and Dr. Johnson I in vain wished to establish an acquaintance, as I
+respected and lived in intimacy with both of them, observed to me once,
+very ingeniously, "It is not in friendship as in mathematics, where two
+things, each equal to a third, are equal between themselves. You agree
+with Johnson as a middle quality, and you agree with me as a middle
+quality; but Johnson and I should not agree." Sir John was not
+sufficiently flexible; so I desisted; knowing, indeed, that the
+repulsion was equally strong on the part of Johnson; who, I know not
+from what cause, unless his being a Scotchman, had formed a very
+erroneous opinion of Sir John. But I conceived an irresistible wish, if
+possible, to bring Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes together. How to manage
+it, was a nice and difficult matter.[E]
+
+My worthy booksellers and friends, Messieurs Dilly in the Poultry, at
+whose hospitable and well-covered table I have seen a greater number of
+literary men than at any other, except that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, had
+invited me to meet Mr. Wilkes and some more gentlemen on Wednesday, May
+15th. "Pray," said I, "let us have Dr. Johnson." "What, with Mr. Wilkes?
+not for the world," said Mr. Edward Dilly: "Dr. Johnson would never
+forgive me." "Come," said I, "if you'll let me negotiate for you, I will
+be answerable that all shall go well." _Dilly._ "Nay, if you will take
+it upon you, I am sure I shall be very happy to see them both here."
+
+Notwithstanding the high veneration which I entertained for Dr. Johnson,
+I was sensible that he was sometimes a little actuated by the spirit of
+contradiction, and by means of that I hoped I should gain my point. I
+was persuaded that if I had come upon him with a direct proposal, "Sir,
+will you dine in company with Jack Wilkes?" he would have flown into a
+passion, and would probably have answered, "Dine with Jack Wilkes, Sir!
+I'd as soon dine with Jack Ketch." I, therefore, while we were sitting
+quietly by ourselves at his house in an evening, took occasion to open
+my plan thus: "Mr. Dilly, Sir, sends his respectful compliments to you,
+and would be happy if you would do him the honor to dine with him on
+Wednesday next along with me, as I must soon go to Scotland." _Johnson._
+"Sir, I am obliged to Mr. Dilly. I will wait upon him." _Boswell._
+"Provided, Sir, I suppose, that the company which he is to have is
+agreeable to you?" _Johnson._ "What do you mean, Sir? What do you take
+me for? Do you think I am so ignorant of the world as to imagine that I
+am to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at his table?"
+_Boswell._ "I beg your pardon, Sir, for wishing to prevent you from
+meeting people whom you might not like. Perhaps he may have some of what
+he calls his patriotic friends with him." _Johnson._ "Well, Sir, and
+what then? What care I for his _patriotic friends_? Poh!" _Boswell._ "I
+should not be surprised to find Jack Wilkes there." _Johnson._ "And if
+Jack Wilkes _should_ be there, what is that to _me_, Sir? My dear
+friend, let us have no more of this. I am sorry to be angry with you;
+but really it is treating me strangely to talk to me as if I could not
+meet any company whatever, occasionally." _Boswell._ "Pray forgive me,
+Sir, I meant well. But you shall meet whoever comes, for me." Thus I
+secured him, and told Dilly that he would find him very well pleased to
+be one of his guests on the day appointed.
+
+Upon the much expected Wednesday, I called on him about half an hour
+before dinner, as I often did when we were to dine out together, to see
+that he was ready in time, and to accompany him. I found him buffeting
+his books, as upon a former occasion, covered with dust, and making no
+preparation for going abroad. "How is this, Sir?" said I. "Don't you
+recollect that you are to dine at Mr. Dilly's?" _Johnson._ "Sir, I did
+not think of going to Dilly's; it went out of my head. I have ordered
+dinner at home with Mrs. Williams." _Boswell._ "But, my dear Sir, you
+know you were engaged to Mr. Dilly, and I told him so. He will expect
+you, and will be much disappointed if you don't come." _Johnson._ "You
+must talk to Mrs Williams about this."
+
+Here was a sad dilemma. I feared that what I was so confident I had
+secured would yet be frustrated. He had accustomed himself to show Mrs.
+Williams such a degree of humane attention, as frequently imposed some
+restraint upon him; and I knew that if she should be obstinate, he would
+not stir. I hastened down stairs to the blind lady's room, and told her
+I was in great uneasiness, for Dr. Johnson had engaged to me to dine
+this day at Mr. Dilly's, but that he had told me he had forgotten his
+engagement, and had ordered dinner at home. "Yes, Sir," said she,
+pretty peevishly, "Dr. Johnson is to dine at home." "Madam," said I,
+"his respect for you is such, that I know he will not leave you, unless
+you absolutely desire it. But as you have so much of his company, I hope
+you will be good enough to forego it for a day, as Mr. Dilly is a very
+worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his house for Dr.
+Johnson, and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him to-day. And then,
+Madam, be pleased to consider my situation; I carried the message, and I
+assured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnson was to come; and no doubt he has made
+a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted of the honor he expected to
+have. I shall be quite disgraced if the Doctor is not there." She
+gradually softened to my solicitations, which were certainly as earnest
+as most entreaties to ladies upon any occasion, and was graciously
+pleased to empower me to tell Dr. Johnson, "That all things considered,
+she thought he should certainly go." I flew back to him, still in dust,
+and careless of what should be the event, "indifferent in his choice to
+go or stay"; but as soon as I had announced to him Mrs. Williams's
+consent, he roared, "Frank, a clean shirt," and was very soon dressed.
+When I had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, I exulted as
+much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with
+him to set out for Gretna Green.
+
+When we entered Mr. Dilly's drawing room, he found himself in the midst
+of a company he did not know. I kept myself snug and silent, watching
+how he would conduct himself. I observed him whispering to Mr. Dilly,
+"Who is that gentleman, Sir?"--"Mr. Arthur Lee." _Johnson._ "Too, too,
+too" (under his breath), which was one of his habitual mutterings. Mr.
+Arthur Lee could not but be very obnoxious to Johnson, for he was not
+only a _patriot_, but an _American_. He was afterwards minister from the
+United States at the court of Madrid. "And who is the gentleman in
+lace?"--"Mr. Wilkes, Sir." This information confounded him still more;
+he had some difficulty to restrain himself, and, taking up a book, sat
+down upon a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon it
+intently for some time, till he composed himself. His feelings, I dare
+say, were awkward enough. But he had no doubt recollected his having
+rated me for supposing that he could be at all disconcerted by any
+company, and he, therefore, resolutely set himself to behave quite as an
+easy man of the world, who could adapt himself at once to the
+disposition and manners of those whom he might chance to meet.
+
+The cheering sound of "Dinner is upon the table," dissolved his reverie,
+and we _all_ sat down without any symptoms of ill humor.... Mr. Wilkes
+placed himself next to Dr. Johnson, and behaved to him with so much
+attention and politeness, that he gained upon him insensibly. No man ate
+more heartily than Johnson, or loved better what was nice and delicate.
+Mr. Wilkes was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. "Pray
+give me leave, Sir--It is better here--A little of the brown--Some fat,
+Sir--A little of the stuffing--Some gravy--Let me have the pleasure of
+giving you some butter--Allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange;
+or the lemon, perhaps may have more zest"--"Sir; sir, I am obliged to
+you, Sir," cried Johnson, bowing, and turning his head to him with a
+look for some time of "surly virtue," but, in a short while of
+complacency.
+
+Foote being mentioned, Johnson said, "He is not a good mimic." One of
+the company added, "A merry-andrew, a buffoon." _Johnson._ "But he has
+wit too, and is not deficient in ideas, or in fertility and variety of
+imagery, and not empty of reading; he has knowledge enough to fill up
+his part. One species of wit he has in an eminent degree, that of
+escape. You drive him into a corner with both hands; but he is gone,
+Sir, when you think you have got him--like an animal that jumps over
+your head. Then he has a great range for wit; he never lets truth stand
+between him and the jest, and he is sometimes mighty coarse. Garrick is
+under many restraints from which Foote is free." _Wilkes._ "Garrick's
+wit is more like Lord Chesterfield's." _Johnson._ "The first time I was
+in company with Foote was at Fitzherbert's. Having no good opinion of
+the fellow, I was resolved not to be pleased; and it is very difficult
+to please a man against his will. I went on eating my dinner pretty
+sullenly, affecting not to mind him. But the dog was so very comical,
+that I was obliged to lay down my knife and fork, throw myself back in
+my chair, and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir, he was irresistible. He upon
+one occasion experienced, in an extraordinary degree, the efficacy of
+his powers of entertaining. Amongst the many and various modes which he
+tried of getting money, he became a partner with a small-beer brewer,
+and he was to have a share of the profits for procuring customers
+amongst his numerous acquaintance. Fitzherbert was one who took his
+small-beer, but it was so bad that the servants resolved not to drink
+it. They were at some loss how to notify their resolution, being afraid
+of offending their master, who, they knew, liked Foote much as a
+companion. At last they fixed upon a little black boy, who was rather a
+favorite, to be their deputy, and deliver their remonstrance; and,
+having invested him with the sole authority of the kitchen, he was to
+inform Mr. Fitzherbert, in all their names, upon a certain day, that
+they would drink Foote's small-beer no longer. On that day Foote
+happened to dine at Fitzherbert's, and this boy served at table; he was
+so delighted with Foote's stories, and merriment, and grimace, that when
+he went down stairs, he told them, 'This is the finest man I have ever
+seen. I will not deliver your message. I will drink his small-beer.'"
+
+... Mr. Wilkes remarked, that "among all the bold flights of
+Shakespeare's imagination, the boldest was making Birnam-wood march to
+Dunsinane; creating a wood where there never was a shrub; a wood in
+Scotland! ha! ha! ha!" And he also observed, that "the clannish slavery
+of the Highlands of Scotland was the single exception to Milton's remark
+of 'the mountain nymph, sweet Liberty,' being worshipped in all hilly
+countries." "When I was at Inverary," said he, "on a visit to my old
+friend Archibald, Duke of Argyle, his dependents congratulated me on
+being such a favorite of his Grace. I said, 'It is, then, gentlemen,
+truly lucky for me; for if I had displeased the Duke, and he had wished
+it, there is not a Campbell among you but would have been ready to bring
+John Wilkes's head to him in a charger. It would have been only
+
+    "'Off with his head! so much for _Aylesbury_.'
+
+"I was then member for Aylesbury."
+
+... Mr. Arthur Lee mentioned some Scotch who had taken possession of a
+barren part of America, and wondered why they should choose it.
+_Johnson._ "Why, Sir, all barrenness is comparative. The _Scotch_ would
+not know it to be barren." _Boswell._ "Come, come, he is flattering the
+English. You have now been in Scotland, Sir, and say if you did not see
+meat and drink enough there." _Johnson._ "Why, yes, Sir; meat and drink
+enough to give the inhabitants sufficient strength to run away from
+home." All these quick and lively sallies were said sportively, quite in
+jest, and with a smile, which showed that he meant only wit. Upon this
+topic he and Mr. Wilkes could perfectly assimilate; here was a bond of
+union between them, and I was conscious that as both of them had visited
+Caledonia, both were fully satisfied of the strange narrow ignorance of
+those who imagine that it is a land of famine. But they amused
+themselves with persevering in the old jokes. When I claimed a
+superiority for Scotland over England in one respect, that no man can be
+arrested there for a debt merely because another swears it against him;
+but there must first be the judgment of a court of law ascertaining its
+justice; and that a seizure of the person, before judgment is obtained,
+can take place only if his creditor should swear that he is about to fly
+from the country, or, as it is technically expressed, is _in meditatione
+fugæ_;--_Wilkes._ "That, I should think, may be safely sworn of all the
+Scotch nation." _Johnson_ (to Mr. Wilkes). "You must know, Sir, I lately
+took my friend Boswell, and showed him genuine civilized life in an
+English provincial town. I turned him loose at Lichfield, my native
+city, that he might see for once real civility; for you know he lives
+among savages in Scotland and among rakes in London." _Wilkes._ "Except
+when he is with grave, sober, decent people, like you and me." _Johnson_
+(smiling). "And we ashamed of him."
+
+... This record, though by no means so perfect as I could wish, will
+serve to give a notion of a very curious interview, which was not only
+pleasing at the time, but had the agreeable and benignant effect of
+reconciling any animosity, and sweetening any acidity, which, in the
+various bustle of political contest, had been produced in the minds of
+two men, who, though widely different, had so many things in
+common--classical learning, modern literature, wit and humor, and ready
+repartee--that it would have been much to be regretted if they had been
+forever at a distance from each other.
+
+Mr. Burke gave me much credit for this successful _negotiation_; and
+pleasantly said, "that there was nothing equal to it in the whole
+history of the _corps diplomatique_."
+
+I attended Dr. Johnson home, and had the satisfaction to hear him tell
+Mrs. Williams how much he had been pleased with Mr. Wilkes's company,
+and what an agreeable day he had passed.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[E] Johnson's dislike of Mr. Wilkes was so great that it extended
+even to his connections. He happened to dine one day at Sir Joshua
+Reynolds's with a large and distinguished company, amongst whom were
+Mr. Wilkes's brother, Israel, and his lady. In the course of
+conversation, Mr. Israel Wilkes was about to make some remark, when
+Johnson suddenly stopped him with, "I hope, sir, what you are going
+to say may be better worth hearing than what you have already said."
+This rudeness shocked and spread a gloom over the whole party,
+particularly as Mr. Israel Wilkes was a gentleman of a very amiable
+character and of refined taste, and, what Dr. Johnson little
+suspected, a very loyal subject. Johnson afterwards owned to me that
+he was very sorry that he had "_snubbed_ Wilkes, as his wife was
+present." I replied, that he should be sorry for many reasons. "No,"
+said Johnson, who was very reluctant to apologize for offences of
+this nature; "no, I only regret it because his wife was by." I
+believe that he had no kind of motive for this incivility to Mr.
+Israel Wilkes but disgust at his brother's political principles.
+
+    MISS REYNOLDS'S RECOLLECTIONS.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV. THE POLICY OF THE EMPIRE IN THE FIRST CENTURY.
+
+EDWARD GIBBON.--1737-1794.
+
+_From_ THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE.
+
+
+In the second century of the Christian era, the empire of Rome
+comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and the most civilized
+portion of mankind. The frontiers of that extensive monarchy were
+guarded by ancient renown and disciplined valor. The gentle but powerful
+influence of laws and manners had gradually cemented the union of the
+provinces. Their peaceful inhabitants enjoyed and abused the advantages
+of wealth and luxury. The image of a free constitution was preserved
+with decent reverence: the Roman senate appeared to possess the
+sovereign authority, and devolved on the emperors all the executive
+powers of government. During a happy period of more than fourscore
+years, the public administration was conducted by the virtue and
+abilities of Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and the two Antonines.
+
+The principal conquests of the Romans were achieved under the republic;
+and the emperors, for the most part, were satisfied with preserving
+those dominions which had been acquired by the policy of the senate, the
+active emulation of the consuls, and the martial enthusiasm of the
+people. The seven first centuries were filled with a rapid succession of
+triumphs; but it was reserved for Augustus to relinquish the ambitious
+design of subduing the whole earth, and to introduce a spirit of
+moderation into the public councils. Inclined to peace by his temper and
+situation, it was easy for him to discover that Rome, in her present
+exalted situation, had much less to hope than to fear from the chance of
+arms; and that, in the prosecution of remote wars, the undertaking
+became every day more difficult, the event more doubtful, and the
+possession more precarious and less beneficial. The experience of
+Augustus added weight to these salutary reflections, and effectually
+convinced him that, by the prudent vigor of his counsels, it would be
+easy to secure every concession which the safety or the dignity of Rome
+might require from the most formidable barbarians. Instead of exposing
+his person and his legions to the arrows of the Parthians, he obtained,
+by an honorable treaty, the restitution of the standards and prisoners
+which had been taken in the defeat of Crassus.
+
+His generals, in the early part of his reign, attempted the reduction of
+Æthiopia and Arabia Felix. They marched near a thousand miles to the
+south of the tropic; but the heat of the climate soon repelled the
+invaders, and protected the unwarlike natives of those sequestered
+regions. The northern countries of Europe scarcely deserved the expense
+and labor of conquest. The forests and morasses of Germany were filled
+with a hardy race of barbarians, who despised life when it was separated
+from freedom; and though, on the first attack, they seemed to yield to
+the weight of the Roman power, they soon, by a signal act of despair,
+regained their independence, and reminded Augustus of the vicissitude of
+fortune. On the death of that emperor, his testament was publicly read
+in the senate. He bequeathed, as a valuable legacy to his successors,
+the advice of confining the empire within those limits which nature
+seemed to have placed as its permanent bulwarks and boundaries: on the
+west the Atlantic Ocean; the Rhine and Danube on the north; the
+Euphrates on the east; and towards the south, the sandy deserts of
+Arabia and Africa.
+
+Happily for the repose of mankind, the moderate system recommended by
+the wisdom of Augustus was adopted by the fears and vices of his
+immediate successors. Engaged in the pursuit of pleasure, or in the
+exercise of tyranny, the first Cæsars seldom showed themselves to the
+armies or to the provinces; nor were they disposed to suffer that those
+triumphs which _their_ indolence neglected should be usurped by the
+conduct and valor of their lieutenants. The military fame of a subject
+was considered as an insolent invasion of the imperial prerogative; and
+it became the duty, as well as interest, of every Roman general to guard
+the frontiers intrusted to his care, without aspiring to conquests
+which might have proved no less fatal to himself than to the vanquished
+barbarians.
+
+The only accession which the Roman empire received during the first
+century of the Christian era was the province of Britain. In this single
+instance the successors of Cæsar and Augustus were persuaded to follow
+the example of the former, rather than the precept of the latter. The
+proximity of its situation to the coast of Gaul seemed to invite their
+arms; the pleasing, though doubtful, intelligence of a pearl-fishery
+attracted their avarice; and as Britain was viewed in the light of a
+distinct and insulated world, the conquest scarcely formed any exception
+to the general system of continental measures. After a war of about
+forty years, undertaken by the most stupid, maintained by the most
+dissolute, and terminated by the most timid of all the emperors, the far
+greater part of the island submitted to the Roman yoke. The various
+tribes of Britons possessed valor without conduct, and the love of
+freedom without the spirit of union. They took up arms with savage
+fierceness; they laid them down, or turned them against each other, with
+wild inconstancy; and while they fought singly, they were successively
+subdued. Neither the fortitude of Caractacus, nor the despair of
+Boadicea, nor the fanaticism of the Druids, could avert the slavery of
+their country, or resist the steady progress of the imperial generals,
+who maintained the national glory, when the throne was disgraced by the
+weakest or the most vicious of mankind. At the very time when Domitian,
+confined to his palace, felt the terrors which he inspired, his legions,
+under the command of the virtuous Agricola, defeated the collected force
+of the Caledonians at the foot of the Grampian hills; and his fleets,
+venturing to explore an unknown and dangerous navigation, displayed the
+Roman arms round every part of the island. The conquest of Britain was
+considered as already achieved; and it was the design of Agricola to
+complete and insure his success by the easy reduction of Ireland, for
+which, in his opinion, one legion and a few auxiliaries were sufficient.
+The western isle might be improved into a valuable possession, and the
+Britons would wear their chains with the less reluctance, if the
+prospect and example of freedom was on every side removed from before
+their eyes.
+
+But the superior merit of Agricola soon occasioned his removal from the
+government of Britain; and forever disappointed this rational, though
+extensive, scheme of conquest. Before his departure the prudent general
+had provided for security as well as for dominion. He had observed that
+the island is almost divided into two unequal parts by the opposite
+gulfs, or, as they are now called, the Friths of Scotland. Across the
+narrow interval of about forty miles he had drawn a line of military
+stations, which was afterwards fortified, in the reign of Antoninus
+Pius, by a turf rampart, erected on foundations of stone. This wall of
+Antoninus, at a small distance beyond the modern cities of Edinburgh and
+Glasgow, was fixed as the limit of the Roman province. The native
+Caledonians preserved, in the northern extremity of the island, their
+wild independence, for which they were not less indebted to their
+poverty than to their valor. Their incursions were frequently repelled
+and chastised, but their country was never subdued. The masters of the
+fairest and most wealthy climates of the globe turned with contempt from
+gloomy hills assailed by the winter tempest, from lakes concealed in a
+blue mist, and from cold and lonely heaths, over which the deer of the
+forest were chased by a troop of naked barbarians.
+
+Such was the state of the Roman frontiers, and such the maxims of
+imperial policy, from the death of Augustus to the accession of Trajan.
+
+
+
+
+XXV. ON THE ATTACKS UPON HIS PENSION.[F]
+
+EDMUND BURKE.--1729-1797.
+
+
+In one thing I can excuse the Duke of Bedford for his attack upon me and
+my mortuary pension: He cannot readily comprehend the transaction he
+condemns. What I have obtained was the fruit of no bargain, the
+production of no intrigue, the result of no compromise, the effect of no
+solicitation. The first suggestion of it never came from me, mediately
+or immediately, to his Majesty or any of his ministers. It was long
+known that the instant my engagements would permit it, and before the
+heaviest of all calamities had forever condemned me to obscurity and
+sorrow, I had resolved on a total retreat. I had executed that design. I
+was entirely out of the way of serving or of hurting any statesman or
+any party, when the ministers so generously and so nobly carried into
+effect the spontaneous bounty of the crown. Both descriptions have acted
+as became them. When I could no longer serve them, the ministers have
+considered my situation. When I could no longer hurt them, the
+revolutionists have trampled on my infirmity. My gratitude, I trust, is
+equal to the manner in which the benefit was conferred. It came to me,
+indeed, at a time of life, and in a state of mind and body, in which no
+circumstance of fortune could afford me any real pleasure. But this was
+no fault in the royal donor, or in his ministers, who were pleased, in
+acknowledging the merits of an invalid servant of the public, to assuage
+the sorrows of a desolate old man....
+
+I was not like his Grace of Bedford, swaddled, and rocked, and dandled
+into a legislator: "_Nitor in adversum_" is the motto for a man like me.
+I possessed not one of the qualities, nor cultivated one of the arts,
+that recommend men to the favor and protection of the great. I was not
+made for a minion or a tool. As little did I follow the trade of winning
+the hearts by imposing on the understandings of the people. At every
+step of my progress in life--for in every step was I traversed and
+opposed--and at every turnpike I met, I was obliged to shew my passport,
+and again and again to prove my sole title to the honor of being useful
+to my country, by a proof that I was not wholly unacquainted with its
+laws, and the whole system of its interests both abroad and at home.
+Otherwise, no rank, no toleration even, for me. I had no arts but manly
+arts. On them I have stood, and, please God, in spite of the Duke of
+Bedford and the Earl of Lauderdale, to the last gasp will I stand....
+
+The Duke of Bedford conceives that he is obliged to call the attention
+of the House of Peers to his Majesty's grant to me, which he considers
+as excessive and out of all bounds.
+
+I know not how it has happened, but it really seems, that, whilst his
+Grace was meditating his well-considered censure upon me, he fell into a
+sort of sleep. Homer nods, and the Duke of Bedford may dream; and as
+dreams--even his golden dreams--are apt to be ill-pieced and
+incongruously put together, his Grace preserved his idea of reproach to
+_me_, but took the subject-matter from the crown grants to _his own
+family_. This is "the stuff of which his dreams are made." In that way
+of putting things together, his Grace is perfectly in the right. The
+grants to the house of Russell were so enormous, as not only to outrage
+economy, but even to stagger credibility. The Duke of Bedford is the
+leviathan among all the creatures of the crown. He tumbles about his
+unwieldy bulk; he plays and frolics in the ocean of the royal bounty.
+Huge as he is, and whilst "he lies floating many a rood," he is still a
+creature. His ribs, his fins, his whalebone, his blubber, the very
+spiracles through which he spouts a torrent of brine against his origin,
+and covers me all over with the spray--everything of him and about him
+is from the throne. Is it for _him_ to question the dispensation of the
+royal favor?
+
+I really am at a loss to draw any sort of parallel between the public
+merits of his Grace, by which he justifies the grants he holds, and
+these services of mine, on the favorable construction of which I have
+obtained what his Grace so much disapproves. In private life I have not
+at all the honor of acquaintance with the noble Duke; but I ought to
+presume, and it costs me nothing to do so, that he abundantly deserves
+the esteem and love of all who live with him. But as to public service,
+why, truly, it would not be more ridiculous for me to compare myself, in
+rank, in fortune, in splendid descent, in youth, strength, or figure,
+with the Duke of Bedford, than to make a parallel between his services
+and my attempts to be useful to my country. It would not be gross
+adulation, but uncivil irony, to say that he has any public merit of his
+own to keep alive the idea of the services by which his vast landed
+pensions were obtained. My merits, whatever they are, are original and
+personal: his are derivative. It is his ancestor, the original
+pensioner, that has laid up this inexhaustible fund of merit, which
+makes his Grace so very delicate and exceptious about the merit of all
+other grantees of the crown. Had he permitted me to remain in quiet, I
+should have said: "'Tis his estate; that's enough. It is his by law;
+what have I to do with it or its history?" He would naturally have said
+on his side: "'Tis this man's fortune. He is as good now as my ancestor
+was two hundred and fifty years ago. I am a young man with very old
+pensions: he is an old man with very young pensions--that's all."
+
+Why will his Grace, by attacking me, force me reluctantly to compare my
+little merit with that which obtained from the crown those prodigies of
+profuse donation by which he tramples on the mediocrity of humble and
+laborious individuals?... Since the new grantees have war made on them
+by the old, and that the word of the sovereign is not to be taken, let
+us turn our eyes to history, in which great men have always a pleasure
+in contemplating the heroic origin of their house.
+
+The first peer of the name, the first purchaser of the grants, was a Mr.
+Russell, a person of an ancient gentleman's family, raised by being a
+minion of Henry the Eighth. As there generally is some resemblance of
+character to create these relations, the favorite was in all likelihood
+much such another as his master. The first of those immoderate grants
+was not taken from the ancient demesne of the crown, but from the recent
+confiscation of the ancient nobility of the land. The lion, having
+sucked the blood of his prey, threw the offal carcass to the jackal in
+waiting. Having tasted once the food of confiscation, the favorites
+became fierce and ravenous. This worthy favorite's first grant was from
+the lay nobility. The second, infinitely improving on the enormity of
+the first, was from the plunder of the church. In truth, his Grace is
+somewhat excusable for his dislike to a grant like mine, not only in its
+quantity, but in its kind, so different from his own.
+
+Mine was from a mild and benevolent sovereign: his, from Henry the
+Eighth. Mine had not its fund in the murder of any innocent person of
+illustrious rank, or in the pillage of any body of unoffending men: his
+grants were from the aggregate and consolidated funds of judgments
+iniquitously legal, and from possessions voluntarily surrendered by the
+lawful proprietors with the gibbet at their door.
+
+The merit of the grantee whom he derives from, was that of being a
+prompt and greedy instrument of a levelling tyrant, who oppressed all
+descriptions of his people, but who fell with particular fury on
+everything that was great and noble. Mine has been in endeavoring to
+screen every man, in every class, from oppression, and particularly in
+defending the high and eminent, who, in the bad times of confiscating
+princes, confiscating chief-governors, or confiscating demagogues, are
+the most exposed to jealousy, avarice, and envy.
+
+The merit of the original grantee of his Grace's pensions was in giving
+his hand to the work, and partaking the spoil with a prince who
+plundered a part of the national church of his time and country. Mine
+was in defending the whole of the national church of my own time and my
+own country, and the whole of the national churches of all countries,
+from the principles and the examples which lead to ecclesiastical
+pillage, thence to a contempt of _all_ prescriptive titles, thence to
+the pillage of _all_ property, and thence to universal desolation.
+
+The merit of the origin of his Grace's fortune was in being a favorite
+and chief adviser to a prince who left no liberty to his native country.
+My endeavor was to obtain liberty for the municipal country in which I
+was born, and for all descriptions and denominations in it. Mine was to
+support, with unrelaxing vigilance, every right, every privilege, every
+franchise, in this my adopted, my dearer, and more comprehensive
+country; and not only to preserve those rights in this chief seat of
+empire, but in every nation, in every land, in every climate, language,
+and religion, in the vast domain that still is under the protection, and
+the larger that was once under the protection, of the British crown.
+
+His founder's merits were, by arts in which he served his master and
+made his fortune, to bring poverty, wretchedness, and depopulation on
+his country. Mine were under a benevolent prince, in promoting the
+commerce, manufactures, and agriculture of his kingdom.
+
+His founder's merit was the merit of a gentleman raised by the arts of a
+court and the protection of a Wolsey to the eminence of a great and
+potent lord. His merit in that eminence was, by instigating a tyrant to
+injustice, to provoke a people to rebellion. My merit was, to awaken the
+sober part of the country, that they might put themselves on their
+guard against any one potent lord, or any greater number of potent
+lords, or any combination of great leading men of any sort, if ever they
+should attempt to proceed in the same courses, but in the reverse
+order,--that is, by instigating a corrupted populace to rebellion, and,
+through that rebellion, introducing a tyranny yet worse than the tyranny
+which his Grace's ancestor supported, and of which he profited in the
+manner we behold in the despotism of Henry the Eighth.
+
+The political merit of the first pensioner of his Grace's house was that
+of being concerned as a counsellor of state in advising, and in his
+person executing, the conditions of a dishonorable peace with
+France,--the surrendering of the fortress of Boulogne, then our outguard
+on the Continent. By that surrender, Calais, the key of France, and the
+bridle in the mouth of that power, was not many years afterwards finally
+lost. My merit has been in resisting the power and pride of France,
+under any form of its rule; but in opposing it with the greatest zeal
+and earnestness, when that rule appeared in the worst form it could
+assume,--the worst, indeed, which the prime cause and principle of all
+evil could possibly give it. It was my endeavor by every means to excite
+a spirit in the House, where I had the honor of a seat, for carrying on
+with early vigor and decision the most clearly just and necessary war
+that this or any nation ever carried on, in order to save my country
+from the iron yoke of its power, and from the more dreadful contagion of
+its principles,--to preserve, while they can be preserved, pure and
+untainted, the ancient, inbred integrity, piety, good-nature, and
+good-humor of the people of England, from the dreadful pestilence
+which, beginning in France, threatens to lay waste the whole moral and
+in a great degree the whole physical world, having done both in the
+focus of its most intense malignity.
+
+The labors of his Grace's founder merited the "curses, not loud, but
+deep," of the Commons of England, on whom _he_ and his master had
+effected a _complete Parliamentary Reform_, by making them, in their
+slavery and humiliation, the true and adequate representatives of a
+debased, degraded, and undone people. My merits were in having had an
+active, though not always an ostentatious share, in every one act,
+without exception, of undisputed constitutional utility in my time, and
+in having supported, on all occasions, the authority, the efficiency,
+and the privileges of the Commons of Great Britain. I ended my services
+by a recorded and fully reasoned assertion on their own journals of
+their constitutional rights, and a vindication of their constitutional
+conduct. I labored in all things to merit their inward approbation, and
+(along with the assistants of the largest, the greatest, and best of my
+endeavors) I received their free, unbiased, public, and solemn thanks.
+
+Thus stands the account of the comparative merits of the crown grants
+which compose the Duke of Bedford's fortune, as balanced against mine.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[F] _From_ "A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD, _on the attacks made upon Mr.
+Burke and his Pension, in the House of Lords, by the Duke of Bedford
+and the Earl of Lauderdale, early in the Present Session of
+Parliament." 1796._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _England, with all thy faults, I love thee still,
+    My country! and, while yet a nook is left
+    Where English minds and manners may be found,
+    Shall be constrain'd to love thee. Though thy clime
+    Be fickle, and thy year, most part, deform'd
+    With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost,
+    I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies
+    And fields without a flower, for warmer France
+    With all her vines._
+
+        COWPER.--_The Timepiece_.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI. TWO EIGHTEENTH CENTURY SCENES.
+
+WILLIAM COWPER.--1731-1800.
+
+_From letters to the Rev. John Newton._
+
+
+Nov. 17th, 1783.
+
+... Since our conflagration here, we have sent two women and a boy to
+the justice, for depredation; S. R. for stealing a piece of beef, which,
+in her excuse, she said she intended to take care of. This lady, whom
+you well remember, escaped for want of evidence; not that evidence was
+wanting, but our men of Gotham judged it unnecessary to send it. With
+her went the woman I mentioned before, who, it seems, has made some sort
+of profession, but upon this occasion allowed herself a latitude of
+conduct rather inconsistent with it, having filled her apron with
+wearing-apparel, which she likewise intended to take care of. She would
+have gone to the county gaol, had William Raban, the baker's son, who
+prosecuted, insisted upon it; but he, good-naturedly, though I think
+weakly, interposed in her favor, and begged her off. The young gentleman
+who accompanied these fair ones is the junior son of Molly Boswell. He
+had stolen some iron-work, the property of Griggs the butcher. Being
+convicted, he was ordered to be whipped, which operation he underwent at
+the cart's tail, from the stone-house to the high arch, and back again.
+He seemed to show great fortitude, but it was all an imposition upon the
+public. The beadle, who performed it, had filled his left hand with
+yellow ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew the lash of his
+whip, leaving the appearance of a wound upon the skin, but in reality
+not hurting him at all. This being perceived by Mr. Constable H., who
+followed the beadle, he applied his cane, without any such management or
+precaution, to the shoulders of the too merciful executioner. The scene
+immediately became more interesting. The beadle could by no means be
+prevailed upon to strike hard, which provoked the constable to strike
+harder; and this double flogging continued, till a lass of Silver-End,
+pitying the pitiful beadle thus suffering under the hands of the
+pitiless constable, joined the procession, and placing herself
+immediately behind the latter, seized him by his capillary club,
+and pulling him backwards by the same, slapped his face with a most
+Amazon fury. This concatenation of events has taken up more of my
+paper than I intended it should, but I could not forbear to inform
+you how the beadle thrashed the thief, the constable the beadle, and
+the lady the constable, and how the thief was the only person concerned
+who suffered nothing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+March 29th, 1784.
+
+It being his Majesty's pleasure, that I should yet have another
+opportunity to write before he dissolves the Parliament, I avail myself
+of it with all possible alacrity. I thank you for your last, which was
+not the less welcome for coming, like an extraordinary gazette, at a
+time when it was not expected.
+
+As when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the water finds its way into
+creeks and holes of rocks, which in its calmer state it never reaches,
+in like manner the effect of these turbulent times is felt even at
+Orchard Side, where in general we live as undisturbed by the political
+element as shrimps or cockles that have been accidentally deposited in
+some hollow beyond the water-mark, by the usual dashing of the waves.
+We were sitting yesterday after dinner, the two ladies and myself, very
+composedly, and without the least apprehension of any such intrusion in
+our snug parlor, one lady knitting, the other netting, and the gentleman
+winding worsted, when to our unspeakable surprise a mob appeared before
+the window; a smart rap was heard at the door, the boys bellowed, and
+the maid announced Mr. Grenville. Puss was unfortunately let out of her
+box, so that the candidate, with all his good friends at his heels, was
+refused admittance at the grand entry, and referred to the back door, as
+the only possible way of approach.
+
+Candidates are creatures not very susceptible of affronts, and would
+rather, I suppose, climb in at the window, than be absolutely excluded.
+In a minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the parlor were filled. Mr.
+Grenville, advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with a degree of
+cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he, and as many more
+as could find chairs, were seated, he began to open the intent of his
+visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me credit. I
+assured him I had no influence, which he was not equally inclined to
+believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr. Ashburner, the draper,
+addressing himself to me at this moment, informed me that I had a great
+deal. Supposing that I could not be possessed of such a treasure without
+knowing it, I ventured to affirm my first assertion, by saying, that if
+I had any I was utterly at a loss to imagine where it could be, or
+wherein it consisted. Thus ended the conference. Mr. Grenville squeezed
+me by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and withdrew. He kissed
+likewise the maid in the kitchen, and seemed upon the whole a most
+loving, kissing, kind-hearted gentleman. He is very young, genteel, and
+handsome. He has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not being
+sufficient, as it should seem, for the many nice and difficult purposes
+of a senator, he has a third also, which he suspended from his
+buttonhole. The boys halloo'd, the dogs barked, puss scampered, the
+hero, with his long train of obsequious followers, withdrew. We made
+ourselves very merry with the adventure, and in a short time settled
+into our former tranquillity, never probably to be thus interrupted
+more. I thought myself, however, happy in being able to affirm truly
+that I had not that influence for which he sued; and which, had I been
+possessed of it, with my present views of the dispute between the Crown
+and the Commons, I must have refused him, for he is on the side of the
+former. It is comfortable to be of no consequence in a world where one
+cannot exercise any without disobliging somebody. The town, however,
+seems to be much at his service, and if he be equally successful
+throughout the country, he will undoubtedly gain his election. Mr.
+Ashburner, perhaps, was a little mortified, because it was evident I
+owed the honor of this visit to his misrepresentation of my importance.
+But had he thought proper to assure Mr. Grenville that I had three
+heads, I should not, I suppose, have been bound to produce them....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
+    Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
+    And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
+    Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
+    That cheer but not inebriate wait on each,
+    So let us welcome peaceful evening in._
+
+        COWPER.--_The Winter Evening_.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII. FROM "THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL."[G]
+
+RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.--1751-1816.
+
+
+SCENE.--_A Room in_ SIR PETER TEAZLE'S _House._
+
+_Enter_ SIR PETER TEAZLE.
+
+_Sir Pet._ When an old bachelor marries a young wife, what is he to
+expect? 'Tis now six months since Lady Teazle made me the happiest of
+men--and I have been the most miserable dog ever since. We tiffed a
+little going to church, and fairly quarrelled before the bells had done
+ringing. I was more than once nearly choked with gall during the
+honeymoon, and had lost all comfort in life before my friends had done
+wishing me joy. Yet I chose with caution--a girl bred wholly in the
+country, who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown, nor dissipation
+above the annual gala of a race ball. Yet she now plays her part in all
+the extravagant fopperies of fashion and the town with as ready a grace
+as if she never had seen a bush or a grass-plot out of Grosvenor Square!
+I am sneered at by all my acquaintance, and paragraphed in the
+newspapers. She dissipates my fortune, and contradicts all my humors;
+yet the worst of it is, I doubt I love her, or I should never bear all
+this. However, I'll never be weak enough to own it. But I meet with
+nothing but crosses and vexations--and the fault is entirely hers. I am,
+myself, the sweetest-tempered man alive, and hate a teasing temper; and
+so I tell her a hundred times a day.--Ay! and what is very
+extraordinary, in all our disputes she is always in the wrong. But Lady
+Sneerwell, and the set she meets at her house, encourage the
+perverseness of her disposition. Then, to complete my vexation, Maria,
+my ward, whom I ought to have the power of a father over, is determined
+to turn rebel too, and absolutely refuses the man whom I have long
+resolved on for her husband--
+
+_Enter_ LADY TEAZLE.
+
+Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you
+please; but I ought to have my own way in everything, and, what's more,
+I will too. What! though I was educated in the country, I know very well
+that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are
+married.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Very well, ma'am, very well; so a husband is to have no
+influence, no authority?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Authority! No, to be sure. If you wanted authority over me,
+you should have adopted me, and not married me: I am sure you were old
+enough.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Old enough!--ay, there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though
+my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your
+extravagance!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a
+woman of fashion ought to be.
+
+_Sir Pet._ No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such
+unmeaning luxury. Such wastefulness! to spend as much to furnish your
+dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the
+Pantheon into a greenhouse, and give a _fête champêtre_ at Christmas.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because flowers are dear in
+cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me.
+For my part, I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and that
+roses grew under our feet.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Oons! madam--if you had been born to this, I shouldn't wonder
+at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I
+married you.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should
+never have married you.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler
+style--the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle,
+when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured linen
+gown, with a bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth over a
+roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your own
+working.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Oh, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led.
+My daily occupation--to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make
+extracts from the family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's
+lap-dog.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ And then you know my evening amusements! To draw patterns
+for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up; to play Pope Joan
+with the curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck down to an
+old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.
+
+_Sir Pet._ I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these were
+the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your
+coach--_vis-à-vis_--and three powdered footmen before your chair; and,
+in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens.
+No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, behind
+the butler, on a docked coach-horse.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ No--I vow I never did that: I deny the butler and the
+coach-horse.
+
+_Sir Pet._ This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done for
+you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank--in short,
+I have made you my wife.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Well, then, and there is but one thing more you can make me
+to add to the obligation, that is----
+
+_Sir Pet._ My widow, I suppose?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Hem! hem!
+
+_Sir Pet._ I thank you, madam--but don't flatter yourself; for, though
+your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my
+heart, I promise you: however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Then why will you endeavor to make yourself so disagreeable
+to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Madam, I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses
+when you married me?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?
+
+_Sir Pet._ The fashion, indeed! what had you to do with the fashion
+before you married me?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ For my part, I should think you would like to have your
+wife thought a woman of taste.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ay--there again--taste! Zounds! madam, you had no taste when
+you married me!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter! and after having
+married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now,
+Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go
+to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ay, there's another precious circumstance--a charming set of
+acquaintances you have made there!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune,
+and remarkably tenacious of reputation.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance; for
+they don't choose anybody should have a character but themselves! Such a
+crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief
+than these utterers of forged tales; coiners of scandal, and clippers of
+reputation.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ What, would you restrain the freedom of speech?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ah! they have made you just as bad as any one of the society.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tolerable grace.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Grace, indeed!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ But I vow I bear no malice against the people I abuse; when
+I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure good humor; and I take it
+for granted they deal exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir
+Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Well, well, I'll call in, just to look after my own
+character.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Then, indeed, you must make haste after me, or you'll be
+too late. So good-bye to ye.      [_Exit._
+
+_Sir Pet._ So--I have gained much by my intended expostulation! Yet with
+what a charming air she contradicts everything I say; and how pleasantly
+she shows her contempt for my authority! Well, though I can't make her
+love me; there is great satisfaction in quarrelling with her; and I
+think she never appears to such advantage as when she is doing
+everything in her power to plague me.      [_Exit_.
+
+
+SCENE.--_A room in_ LADY SNEERWELL'S _House._
+
+LADY SNEERWELL, MRS. CANDOUR, CRABTREE, SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE, _and_
+JOSEPH SURFACE, _discovered_.
+
+_Enter_ LADY TEAZLE _and_ MARIA.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Lady Teazle, I hope we shall see Sir Peter?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ I believe he'll wait on your ladyship presently.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Maria, my love, you look grave. Come, you shall sit down
+to piquet with Mr. Surface.
+
+_Mar._ I take very little pleasure in cards--however, I'll do as your
+ladyship pleases.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Now I'll die; but you are so scandalous, I'll forswear your
+society.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ What's the matter, Mrs. Candour?
+
+_Mrs. Can._ They'll not allow our friend Miss Vermillion to be handsome.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Oh, surely she is a pretty woman.
+
+_Crab._ I am very glad you think so, ma'am.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ She has a charming fresh color.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Yes, when it is fresh put on.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Oh, fie! Her color is natural: I have seen it come and go!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ I dare say you have, ma'am: it goes off at night, and comes
+again in the morning.
+
+_Sir Ben._ True, ma'am, it not only comes and goes; but, what's more,
+her maid can fetch and carry it!
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Ha! ha! ha! how I hate to hear you talk so! But surely now,
+her sister is, or was, very handsome.
+
+_Crab._ Who? Mrs. Evergreen? Oh! she's six-and-fifty if she's an hour!
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Now positively you wrong her; fifty-two or fifty-three is
+the utmost--and I don't think she looks more.
+
+_Sir Ben._ Ah! there's no judging by her looks, unless one could see her
+face.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Well, well, if Mrs. Evergreen does take some pains to
+repair the ravages of time, you must allow she effects it with great
+ingenuity; and surely that's better than the careless manner in which
+the widow Ochre caulks her wrinkles.
+
+_Sir Ben._ Nay, now, Lady Sneerwell, you are severe upon the widow.
+Come, come, 'tis not that she paints so ill--but, when she has finished
+her face, she joins it on so badly to her neck, that she looks like a
+mended statue, in which the connoisseur may see at once that the head is
+modern, though the trunk's antique.
+
+_Crab._ Ha! ha! ha! Well said, nephew!
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Ha! ha! ha! Well, you make me laugh; but I vow I hate you
+for it. What do you think of Miss Simper?
+
+_Sir Ben._ Why, she has very pretty teeth.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Yes, and on that account, when she is neither speaking nor
+laughing (which very seldom happens), she never absolutely shuts her
+mouth, but leaves it always on a-jar, as it were--thus.
+
+[_Shows her teeth._
+
+_Mrs. Can._ How can you be so ill-natured?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Nay, I allow even that's better than the pains Mrs. Prim
+takes to conceal her losses in front. She draws her mouth till it
+positively resembles the aperture of a poor's-box, and all her words
+appear to slide out edgewise as it were--thus: _How do you do, madam?
+Yes, madam._      [_Mimics._
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Very well, Lady Teazle; I see you can be a little severe.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ In defence of a friend it is but justice. But here comes
+Sir Peter to spoil our pleasantry.
+
+_Enter_ SIR PETER TEAZLE.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ladies, your most obedient.--[_Aside,_] Mercy on me, here is
+the whole set! a character dead at every word, I suppose.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ I am rejoiced you are come, Sir Peter. They have been so
+censorious--and Lady Teazle as bad as any one.
+
+_Sir Pet._ That must be very distressing to you, indeed, Mrs. Candour.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Oh, they will allow good qualities to nobody: not even good
+nature to our friend Mrs. Pursy.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ What, the fat dowager who was at Mrs. Quadrille's last
+night?
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Nay, her bulk is her misfortune; and, when she takes so much
+pains to get rid of it, you ought not to reflect on her.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ That's very true, indeed.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Yes, I know she almost lives on acids and small whey; laces
+herself by pulleys; and often, in the hottest noon in summer, you may
+see her on a little squat pony, with her hair plaited up behind like a
+drummer's, and puffing round the ring on a full trot.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ I thank you, Lady Teazle, for defending her.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, a good defence, truly.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Truly, Lady Teazle is as censorious as Miss Sallow.
+
+_Crab._ Yes, and she is a curious being to pretend to be censorious--an
+awkward thing, without any one good point under the sun.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Positively you shall not be so very severe. Miss Sallow is a
+near relation of mine by marriage, and, as for her person, great
+allowance is to be made; for, let me tell you, a woman labors under many
+disadvantages who tries to pass for a girl of six-and-thirty.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Though, surely, she is handsome still--and for the
+weakness in her eyes, considering how much she reads by candlelight, it
+is not to be wondered at.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ True, and then as to her manner; upon my word I think it is
+particularly graceful, considering she never had the least education;
+for you know her mother was a Welsh milliner, and her father a
+sugar-baker at Bristol.
+
+_Sir Ben._ Ah! you are both of you too good-natured!
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, distressingly good-natured! This their own relation!
+Mercy on me!      [_Aside._
+
+_Mrs. Can._ For my part, I own I cannot bear to hear a friend ill-spoken
+of.
+
+_Sir Pet._ No, to be sure!
+
+_Sir Ben._ Oh! you are of a moral turn. Mrs. Candour and I can sit for
+an hour and hear Lady Stucco talk sentiment.
+
+_Lady Teas._ Nay, I vow Lady Stucco is very well with the dessert after
+dinner; for she's just like the French fruit one cracks for
+mottoes--made up of paint and proverb.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Well, I will never join in ridiculing a friend; and so I
+constantly tell my cousin Ogle, and you all know what pretensions she
+has to be critical on beauty.
+
+_Crab._ Oh, to be sure! she has herself the oddest countenance that ever
+was seen; 'tis a collection of features from all the different countries
+of the globe.
+
+_Sir Ben._ So she has, indeed--an Irish front----
+
+_Crab._ Caledonian locks----
+
+_Sir Ben._ Dutch nose----
+
+_Crab._ Austrian lips----
+
+_Sir Ben._ Complexion of a Spaniard----
+
+_Crab._ And teeth _à la Chinoise_.
+
+_Sir Ben._ In short, her face resembles a _table d'hôte_ at Spa--where
+no two guests are of a nation----
+
+_Crab._ Or a congress at the close of a general war--wherein all the
+members, even to her eyes, appear to have a different interest, and her
+nose and chin are the only parties likely to join issue.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Ha! ha! ha!
+
+_Sir Pet._ Mercy on my life!--a person they dine with twice a
+week!      [_Aside._
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Nay, but I vow you shall not carry the laugh off so--for
+give me leave to say that Mrs. Ogle----
+
+_Sir Pet._ Madam, madam, I beg your pardon--there's no stopping these
+good gentlemen's tongues. But when I tell you, Mrs. Candour, that the
+lady they are abusing is a particular friend of mine, I hope you'll not
+take her part.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Ha! ha! ha! well said, Sir Peter! but you are a cruel
+creature--too phlegmatic yourself for a jest, and too peevish to allow
+wit in others.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ah, madam, true wit is more nearly allied to good nature than
+your ladyship is aware of.
+
+_Lady Teas._ True, Sir Peter; I believe they are so near akin that they
+can never be united.
+
+_Sir Ben._ Or rather, suppose them man and wife, because one seldom sees
+them together.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ But Sir Peter is such an enemy to scandal, I believe he
+would have it put down by parliament.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Positively, madam, if they were to consider the sporting with
+reputation of as much importance as poaching on manors, and pass an act
+for the preservation of fame, as well as game, I believe many would
+thank them for the bill.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Why! Sir Peter; would you deprive us of our privileges?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ay, madam; and then no person should be permitted to kill
+characters and run down reputations but qualified old maids and
+disappointed widows.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Go, you monster!
+
+_Mrs. Can._ But, surely, you would not be quite so severe on those who
+only report what they hear?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, madam, I would have law merchant for them too; and in
+all cases of slander currency, whenever the drawer of the lie was not to
+be found, the injured parties should have a right to come on any of the
+indorsers.
+
+_Crab._ Well, for my part, I believe there never was a scandalous tale
+without some foundation.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Come, ladies, shall we sit down to cards in the next room?
+
+_Enter_ Servant, _who whispers_ Sir Peter.
+
+_Sir Pet._ I'll be with them directly.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] I'll get away
+unperceived.      [_Aside._
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Sir Peter, you are not going to leave us?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Your ladyship must excuse me; I'm called away by particular
+business. But I leave my character behind me.      [_Exit._
+
+_Sir Ben._ Well--certainly, Lady Teazle, that lord of yours is a strange
+being: I could tell you some stories of him would make you laugh
+heartily if he were not your husband.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Oh, pray, don't mind that; come, do let's hear
+them.      [_Exeunt all but_ JOSEPH SURFACE _and_ MARIA.
+
+_Jos. Surf._ Maria, I see you have no satisfaction in this society.
+
+_Mar._ How is it possible I should? If to raise malicious smiles at the
+infirmities or misfortunes of those who have never injured us be the
+province of wit or humor, Heaven grant me a double portion of dulness!
+
+_Jos. Surf._ Yet they appear more ill-natured than they are; they have
+no malice at heart.
+
+_Mar._ Then is their conduct still more contemptible; for, in my
+opinion, nothing could excuse the intemperance of their tongues but a
+natural and uncontrollable bitterness of mind.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[G] For the sake of brevity a part of the first scene has been
+excised. It subsequently appears that Lady Teazle abandons the
+society of the scandal-mongers, and she and her fond but somewhat
+irascible husband become happily reconciled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us
+    To see oursel's as others see us!
+    It wad frae monie a blunder free us
+                  And foolish notion:
+    What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
+                  And e'en devotion!_
+
+         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.[H]
+
+ROBERT BURNS.--1759-1796.
+
+    Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
+      Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
+    Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
+      The short and simple annals of the poor.
+
+        GRAY.
+
+
+    My lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend!
+      No mercenary bard his homage pays;
+    With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,--
+      My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:
+      To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,
+    The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene;
+      The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;
+    What Aiken in a cottage would have been;
+    Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween.
+
+    November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;[1]
+      The short'ning winter-day is near a close;
+    The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;
+      The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose:
+      The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes--
+    This night his weekly moil is at an end,--
+      Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
+    Hoping the morn[2] in ease and rest to spend,
+    And, weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.
+
+    At length his lonely cot appears in view,
+      Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
+    The expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher[3] through,
+      To meet their dad, wi' flichterin[4] noise an' glee.
+      His wee bit ingle,[5] blinkin bonnily,
+    His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile,
+      The lisping infant prattling on his knee,
+    Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,
+      An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil.
+
+    Belyve,[6] the elder bairns come drapping in,
+      At service out, amang the farmers roun';
+    Some ca'[7] the pleugh, some herd, some tentie[8] rin
+      A canny[9] errand to a neebor town:
+      Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
+    In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,
+      Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw[10] new gown,
+    Or deposite[11] her sair-won[12] penny-fee,[13]
+    To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
+
+    Wi' joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet
+      And each for other's welfare kindly spiers:[14]
+    The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed fleet;
+      Each tells the uncos[15] that he sees or hears;
+      The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;
+    Anticipation forward points the view.
+      The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears,
+    Gars[16] auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;
+    The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
+
+    Their master's an' their mistress's command
+      The younkers a' are warnèd to obey;
+    An' mind their labors wi' an eydent[17] hand,
+      An' ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk[18] or play:
+      "An' oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,
+    An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night!
+      Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,
+    Implore His counsel and assisting might:
+    They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"
+
+    But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
+      Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,
+    Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor
+      To do some errands, and convoy her hame.
+      The wily mother sees the conscious flame
+    Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, an' flush her cheek;
+      Wi' heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name,
+    While Jenny hafflins[19] is afraid to speak;
+    Weel pleas'd the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake.
+
+    Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;[20]
+      A strappan youth; he taks the mother's eye;
+    Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;
+      The father cracks[21] of horses, pleughs, and kye.
+      The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,
+    But, blate[22] an' laithfu',[23] scarce can weel behave;
+      The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
+    What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave;
+    Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave.[24]
+
+    O happy love! where love like this is found!
+      O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!
+    I've pacèd much this weary, mortal round,
+      And sage experience bids me this declare--
+      "If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
+    One cordial in this melancholy vale,
+      'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
+    In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,
+    Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale."
+
+    Is there, in human form, that bears a heart--
+      A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth!
+    That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
+      Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
+      Curse on his perjur'd arts! dissembling smooth!
+    Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd?
+      Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
+    Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?
+    Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild!
+
+    But now the supper crowns their simple board,
+      The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food
+    The soupe[25] their only hawkie[26] does afford,
+      That 'yont the hallan[27] snugly chows her cood;
+      The dame brings forth, in complimental mood,
+    To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd[28] kebbuck,[29] fell,[30]
+      An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid:
+    The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell
+    How 'twas a towmond[31] auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.[32]
+
+    The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
+      They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
+    The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,
+      The big ha'-Bible,[33] ance his father's pride:
+      His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,
+    His lyart[34] haffets[35] wearing thin an' bare;
+      Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
+    He wales[36] a portion with judicious care;
+    And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.
+
+    They chant their artless notes in simple guise;
+      They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:
+    Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise,
+      Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy of the name;
+      Or noble "Elgin" beets[37] the heavenward flame,
+    The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:
+      Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame;
+    The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise;
+    Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
+
+    The priest-like father reads the sacred page--
+      How Abram was the friend of God on high;
+    Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage
+      With Amalek's ungracious progeny;
+      Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
+    Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;
+      Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
+    Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;
+    Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
+
+    Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme--
+      How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;
+    How He, who bore in Heaven the second name,
+      Had not on earth whereon to lay His head;
+      How His first followers and servants sped;
+    The precepts sage they wrote to many a land;
+      How he, who lone in Patmos banishèd,
+    Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
+    And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.
+
+    Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,
+      The saint, the father, and the husband prays:
+    Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"
+      That thus they all shall meet in future days:
+      There ever bask in uncreated rays,
+    No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear;
+      Together hymning their Creator's praise,
+    In such society, yet still more dear;
+    While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
+
+    Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride,
+      In all the pomp of method, and of art,
+    When men display to congregations wide
+      Devotion's every grace, except the heart!
+      The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert,
+    The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;
+      But, haply, in some cottage far apart,
+    May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul;
+    And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.
+
+    Then homeward all take off their several way:
+      The youngling cottagers retire to rest;
+    The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
+      And proffer up to Heaven the warm request
+      That He, who stills the raven's clam'rous nest,
+    And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,
+      Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,
+    For them, and for their little ones provide;
+    But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
+
+    From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,
+      That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad:
+    Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;
+      "An honest man's the noblest work of God;"
+      And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,
+    The cottage leaves the palace far behind;
+      What is a lordling's pomp?--a cumbrous load,
+    Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,
+    Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd!
+
+    O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
+      For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent!
+    Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
+      Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
+      And, oh! may Heaven their simple lives prevent
+    From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!
+      Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,
+    A virtuous populace may rise the while,
+    And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle.
+
+    O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide
+      That stream'd through Wallace's undaunted heart;
+    Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,
+      Or nobly die, the second glorious part,
+      (The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art,
+    His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)
+      O never, never, Scotia's realm desert;
+    But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,
+    In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[H] Inscribed to R. Aiken, Esq.
+
+[1] Moan.
+
+[2] Morrow.
+
+[3] Stagger.
+
+[4] Fluttering.
+
+[5] Fire-place.
+
+[6] Presently.
+
+[7] Drive, _i.e._, with shouting or calling.
+
+[8] Attentive.
+
+[9] Requiring judgment.
+
+[10] Brave, fine, handsome.
+
+[11] De´posite, _for_ depos´it.
+
+[12] Dear-won, hard-earned.
+
+[13] Money-wages.
+
+[14] Enquires.
+
+[15] _Unknown_ things, news.
+
+[16] Makes.
+
+[17] Diligent.
+
+[18] Trifle.
+
+[19] Half.
+
+[20] In, into the room.
+
+[21] Talks.
+
+[22] Bashful.
+
+[23] Unwilling, shy.
+
+[24] What is _left_, rest.
+
+[25] Sup; _here_, milk.
+
+[26] White-faced cow.
+
+[27] Partition wall.
+
+[28] Carefully kept.
+
+[29] Cheese.
+
+[30] Tasty.
+
+[31] Twelvemonth.
+
+[32] Since flax was in flower.
+
+[33] Hall-Bible.
+
+[34] Grey, greyish.
+
+[35] Temples, _here_ temple-locks.
+
+[36] Chooses.
+
+[37] Feeds, nourishes.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX. THE LAND O' THE LEAL.
+
+LADY NAIRN.--1766-1845.
+
+
+    I'm wearin' awa', John,
+    Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,
+    I'm wearin' awa'
+      To the land o' the leal.
+    There's nae sorrow there, John;
+    There's neither cauld nor care, John;
+    The day is aye fair
+      In the land o' the leal.
+
+    Our bonnie bairn's there, John;
+    She was baith gude and fair, John;
+    And oh! we grudg'd her sair
+      To the land o' the leal.
+    But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,
+    And joy's a-comin' fast, John,
+    The joy that's aye to last
+      In the land o' the leal.
+
+    Sae dear that joy was bought, John,
+    Sae free the battle fought, John,
+    That sinfu' man e'er brought
+      To the land o' the leal.
+    Oh! dry your glistening e'e, John,
+    My soul langs to be free, John,
+    And angels beckon me
+      To the land o' the leal.
+
+    Oh! haud ye leal and true, John,
+    Your day it's wearin' through, John,
+    And I'll welcome you
+      To the land o' the leal.
+    Now fare-ye weel, my ain John,
+    This warld's cares are vain, John,
+    We'll meet, and we'll be fain
+      In the land o' the leal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Life! we've been long together,
+    Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
+      'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
+      Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
+      Then steal away, give little warning,
+        Choose thine own time;
+    Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime
+        Bid me Good-morning_.
+
+         MRS. BARBAULD.--1743-1825.
+
+
+
+
+XXX. THE TRIAL BY COMBAT AT THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT.[I]
+
+_From_ THE TALISMAN.
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT.--1771-1832.
+
+
+It had been agreed, on account of the heat of the climate, that the
+judicial combat, which was the cause of the present assemblage of
+various nations at the Diamond of the Desert, should take place at one
+hour after sunrise. The wide lists, which had been constructed under the
+inspection of the Knight of the Leopard, enclosed a space of hard sand,
+which was one hundred and twenty yards long by forty in width. They
+extended in length from north to south, so as to give both parties the
+equal advantage of the rising sun. Saladin's royal seat was erected on
+the western side of the enclosure, just in the centre, where the
+combatants were expected to meet in mid encounter. Opposed to this was
+a gallery with closed casements, so contrived, that the ladies, for
+whose accommodation it was erected, might see the fight without being
+themselves exposed to view. At either extremity of the lists was a
+barrier, which could be opened or shut at pleasure. Thrones had been
+also erected, but the Archduke, perceiving that his was lower than King
+Richard's, refused to occupy it; and Coeur de Lion, who would have
+submitted to much ere any formality should have interfered with the
+combat, readily agreed that the sponsors, as they were called, should
+remain on horseback during the fight. At one extremity of the lists were
+placed the followers of Richard, and opposed to them were those who
+accompanied the defender, Conrade. Around the throne destined for the
+Soldan were ranged his splendid Georgian Guards, and the rest of the
+enclosure was occupied by Christian and Mohammedan spectators.
+
+Long before daybreak, the lists were surrounded by even a larger number
+of Saracens than Richard had seen on the preceding evening. When the
+first ray of the sun's glorious orb arose above the desert, the sonorous
+call, "To prayer, to prayer!" was poured forth by the Soldan himself,
+and answered by others, whose rank and zeal entitled them to act as
+muezzins. It was a striking spectacle to see them all sink to earth, for
+the purpose of repeating their devotions, with their faces turned to
+Mecca. But when they arose from the ground, the sun's rays, now
+strengthening fast, seemed to confirm the Lord of Gilsland's conjecture
+of the night before. They were flashed back from many a spear-head, for
+the pointless lances of the preceding day were certainly no longer such.
+De Vaux pointed it out to his master, who answered with impatience, that
+he had perfect confidence in the good faith of the Soldan; but if De
+Vaux was afraid of his bulky body, he might retire.
+
+Soon after this the noise of timbrels was heard, at the sound of which
+the whole Saracen cavaliers threw themselves from their horses, and
+prostrated themselves, as if for a second morning prayer. This was to
+give an opportunity to the Queen, with Edith and her attendants, to pass
+from the pavilion to the gallery intended for them. Fifty guards of
+Saladin's seraglio escorted them, with naked sabres, whose orders were,
+to cut to pieces whomsoever, were he prince or peasant, should venture
+to gaze on the ladies as they passed, or even presume to raise his head
+until the cessation of the music should make all men aware that they
+were lodged in their gallery, not to be gazed on by the curious eye.
+
+This superstitious observance of Oriental reverence to the fair sex
+called forth from Queen Berengaria some criticisms very unfavorable to
+Saladin and his country. But their den, as the royal fair called it,
+being securely closed and guarded by their sable attendants, she was
+under the necessity of contenting herself with seeing, and laying aside
+for the present the still more exquisite pleasure of being seen.
+
+Meantime the sponsors of both champions went, as was their duty, to see
+that they were duly armed, and prepared for combat. The Archduke of
+Austria was in no hurry to perform this part of the ceremony, having had
+rather an unusually severe debauch upon wine of Schiraz the preceding
+evening. But the Grand Master of the Temple, more deeply concerned in
+the event of the combat, was early before the tent of Conrade of
+Montserrat. To his great surprise, the attendants refused him
+admittance.
+
+"Do you not know me, ye knaves?" said the Grand Master in great anger.
+
+"We do, most valiant and reverend," answered Conrade's squire; "but even
+_you_ may not at present enter--the Marquis is about to confess
+himself."
+
+"Confess himself!" exclaimed the Templar, in a tone where alarm mingled
+with surprise and scorn--"and to whom I pray thee?"
+
+"My master bid me be secret," said the squire; on which the Grand Master
+pushed past him, and entered the tent almost by force.
+
+The Marquis of Montserrat was kneeling at the feet of the Hermit of
+Engaddi, and in the act of beginning his confession.
+
+"What means this, Marquis?" said the Grand Master, "up, for shame--or,
+if you must needs confess, am not I here?"
+
+"I have confessed to you too often already," replied Conrade, with a
+pale cheek and a faltering voice. "For God's sake, Grand Master, begone,
+and let me unfold my conscience to this holy man."
+
+"In what is he holier than I am?" said the Grand Master.--"Hermit,
+prophet, madman--say, if thou darest, in what thou excellest me?"
+
+"Bold and bad man," replied the Hermit, "know that I am like the
+latticed window, and the divine light passes through to avail others,
+though alas! it helpeth not me. Thou art like the iron stanchions, which
+neither receive light themselves, nor communicate it to any one."
+
+"Prate not to me, but depart from this tent," said the Grand Master;
+"the Marquis shall not confess this morning, unless it be to me, for I
+part not from his side."
+
+"Is this _your_ pleasure?" said the Hermit to Conrade; "for think not I
+will obey that proud man, if you continue to desire my assistance."
+
+"Alas!" said Conrade irresolutely, "what would you have me say? Farewell
+for a while--we will speak anon."
+
+"O, procrastination!" exclaimed the Hermit, "thou art a
+soul-murderer!--Unhappy man, farewell; not for a while, but until we
+both shall meet--no matter where.--And for thee," he added, turning to
+the Grand Master, "TREMBLE!"
+
+"Tremble!" replied the Templar contemptuously, "I cannot if I would."
+
+The Hermit heard not his answer, having left the tent.
+
+"Come! to this gear hastily," said the Grand Master, "since thou wilt
+needs go through the foolery.--Hark thee--I think I know most of thy
+frailties by heart, so we may omit the detail, which may be somewhat a
+long one, and begin with the absolution. What signifies counting the
+spots of dirt that we are about to wash from our hands?"
+
+"Knowing what thou art thyself," said Conrade, "it is blasphemous to
+speak of pardoning another."
+
+"That is not according to the canon, Lord Marquis," said the Templar;
+"thou art more scrupulous than orthodox. The absolution of the wicked
+priest is as effectual as if he were himself a saint; otherwise,--God
+help the poor penitent! What wounded man inquires whether the surgeon
+that tents his gashes have clean hands or not?--Come, shall we to this
+toy?"
+
+"No," said Conrade, "I will rather die unconfessed than mock the
+sacrament."
+
+"Come, noble Marquis," said the Templar, "rouse up your courage, and
+speak not thus. In an hour's time thou shalt stand victorious in the
+lists, or confess thee in thy helmet, like a valiant knight."
+
+"Alas, Grand Master!" answered Conrade, "all augurs ill for this affair.
+The strange discovery by the instinct of a dog, the revival of this
+Scottish knight, who comes into the lists like a spectre,--all betokens
+evil."
+
+"Pshaw!" said the Templar, "I have seen thee bend thy lance boldly
+against him in sport, and with equal chance of success. Think thou art
+but in a tournament, and who bears him better in the tilt-yard than
+thou?--Come, squires and armorers, your master must be accoutred for the
+field."
+
+The attendants entered accordingly, and began to arm the Marquis.
+
+"What morning is without?" said Conrade.
+
+"The sun rises dimly," answered a squire.
+
+"Thou seest, Grand Master," said Conrade, "naught smiles on us."
+
+"Thou wilt fight the more coolly, my son," answered the Templar. "Thank
+Heaven that hath tempered the sun of Palestine to suit thine occasion."
+
+Thus jested the Grand Master; but his jests had lost their influence on
+the harassed mind of the Marquis, and, notwithstanding his attempts to
+seem gay, his gloom communicated itself to the Templar.
+
+"This craven," he thought, "will lose the day in pure faintness and
+cowardice of heart, which he calls tender conscience. I, whom visions
+and auguries shake not--who am firm in my purpose as the living rock--I
+should have fought the combat myself.--Would to God the Scot may strike
+him dead on the spot; it were next best to his winning the victory. But,
+come what will, he must have no other confessor than myself. Our sins
+are too much in common, and he might confess my share with his own."
+
+While these thoughts passed through his mind, he continued to assist the
+Marquis in arming, but it was in silence.
+
+The hour at length arrived, the trumpets sounded, the knights rode into
+the lists armed at all points, and mounted like men who were to do
+battle for a kingdom's honor. They wore their visors up, and, riding
+around the lists three times, showed themselves to the spectators. Both
+were goodly persons, and both had noble countenances. But there was an
+air of manly confidence on the brow of the Scot, a radiancy of hope,
+which amounted even to cheerfulness, while, although pride and effort
+had recalled much of Conrade's natural courage, there lowered still on
+his brow a cloud of ominous despondence. Even his steed seemed to tread
+less lightly and blithely to the trumpet-sound than the noble Arab which
+was bestrode by Sir Kenneth; and the _spruch-sprecher_ shook his head
+while he observed, that while the challenger rode around the lists in
+the course of the sun--that is, from right to left--the defender made
+the same circuit _widder-sins_--that is, from left to right--which is in
+most countries held ominous.
+
+A temporary altar was erected just beneath the gallery occupied by the
+Queen, and beside it stood the Hermit in the dress of his order, as a
+Carmelite friar. Other churchmen were also present. To this altar the
+challenger and defender were successively brought forward, conducted by
+their respective sponsors. Dismounting before it, each knight avouched
+the justice of his cause by a solemn oath on the Evangelists, and prayed
+that his success might be according to the truth or falsehood of what he
+then swore. They also made oath, that they came to do battle in knightly
+guise, and with the usual weapons, disclaiming the use of spells,
+charms, or magical devices, to incline victory to their side. The
+challenger pronounced his vow with a firm and manly voice, and a bold
+and cheerful countenance. When the ceremony was finished, the Scottish
+Knight looked at the gallery, and bent his head to the earth, as if in
+honor of those invisible beauties which were enclosed within; then,
+loaded with armor as he was, sprung to the saddle without the use of the
+stirrup, and made his courser carry him in a succession of caracoles to
+his station at the eastern extremity of the lists. Conrade also
+presented himself before the altar with boldness enough; but his voice,
+as he took the oath, sounded hollow, as if drowned in his helmet. The
+lips with which he appealed to Heaven to adjudge victory to the just
+quarrel, grew white as they uttered the impious mockery. As he turned
+to remount his horse, the Grand Master approached him closer, as if to
+rectify something about the sitting of his gorget, and whispered,
+"Coward and fool! recall thy senses, and do me this battle bravely;
+else, by Heaven, shouldst thou escape him, thou escapest not _me_!"
+
+The savage tone in which this was whispered, perhaps completed the
+confusion of the Marquis's nerves, for he stumbled as he made to horse;
+and though he recovered his feet, sprung to the saddle with his usual
+agility, and displayed his address in horsemanship as he assumed his
+position opposite to the challenger's, yet the accident did not escape
+those who were on the watch for omens, which might predict the fate of
+the day.
+
+The priests, after a solemn prayer that God would show the rightful
+quarrel, departed from the lists. The trumpets of the challenger then
+rung a flourish, and the herald-at-arms proclaimed at the eastern end
+of the lists,--"Here stands a good knight, Sir Kenneth of Scotland,
+champion for the royal King Richard of England, who accuseth Conrade,
+Marquis of Montserrat, of foul treason and dishonor done to the said
+King."
+
+When the words Kenneth of Scotland announced the name and character of
+the champion, hitherto scarce generally known, a loud and cheerful
+acclaim burst from the followers of King Richard, and hardly,
+notwithstanding repeated commands of silence, suffered the reply of the
+defendant to be heard. He, of course, avouched his innocence, and
+offered his body for battle. The esquires of the combatants now
+approached, and delivered to each his shield and lance, assisting to
+hang the former around his neck, that his two hands might remain free,
+one for the management of the bridle, the other to direct the lance.
+
+The shield of the Scot displayed his old bearing, the leopard, but with
+the addition of a collar and broken chain, in allusion to his late
+captivity. The shield of the Marquis bore, in reference to his title, a
+serrated and rocky mountain. Each shook his lance aloft, as if to
+ascertain the weight and toughness of the unwieldy weapon, and then laid
+it in the rest. The sponsors, heralds, and squires, now retired to the
+barriers, and the combatants sat opposite to each other, face to face,
+with couched lance and closed visor, the human form so completely
+enclosed, that they looked more like statues of molten iron than beings
+of flesh and blood. The silence of suspense was now general--men
+breathed thicker, and their very souls seemed seated in their eyes,
+while not a sound was to be heard save the snorting and pawing of the
+good steeds, who, sensible of what was about to happen, were impatient
+to dash into career. They stood thus for perhaps three minutes, when at
+a signal given by the Soldan, an hundred instruments rent the air with
+their brazen clamors, and each champion striking his horse with the
+spurs, and slacking the rein, the horses started into full gallop, and
+the knights met in mid space with a shock like a thunderbolt. The
+victory was not in doubt--no, not one moment. Conrade, indeed, showed
+himself a practised warrior; for he struck his antagonist knightly in
+the midst of his shield, bearing his lance so straight and true, that it
+shivered into splinters from the steel spear-head up to the very
+gauntlet. The horse of Sir Kenneth recoiled two or three yards and fell
+on his haunches, but the rider easily raised him with hand and rein. But
+for Conrade there was no recovery. Sir Kenneth's lance had pierced
+through the shield, through a plated corselet of Milan steel, through a
+_secret_, or coat of linked mail, worn beneath the corselet, had
+wounded him deep in the bosom, and borne him from his saddle, leaving
+the truncheon of the lance fixed in his wound. The sponsors, heralds,
+and Saladin himself, descending from his throne, crowded around the
+wounded man; while Sir Kenneth, who had drawn his sword ere yet he
+discovered his antagonist was totally helpless, now commanded him to
+avow his guilt. The helmet was hastily unclosed, and the wounded man,
+gazing wildly on the skies, replied, "What would you more? God hath
+decided justly. I am guilty--but there are worse traitors in the camp
+than I.--In pity to my soul, let me have a confessor!"
+
+He revived as he uttered these words.
+
+"The talisman--the powerful remedy, royal brother," said King Richard to
+Saladin.
+
+"The traitor," answered the Soldan, "is more fit to be dragged from the
+lists to the gallows by the heels, than to profit by its virtues: and
+some such fate is in his look," he added, after gazing fixedly upon the
+wounded man; "for though his wound may be cured, yet Azrael's seal is on
+the wretch's brow."
+
+"Nevertheless," said Richard, "I pray you do for him what you may, that
+he may at least have time for confession. Slay not soul and body! To him
+one half-hour of time may be worth more, by ten thousand fold, than the
+life of the oldest patriarch."
+
+"My royal brother's wish shall be obeyed," said Saladin.--"Slaves, bear
+this wounded man to our tent."
+
+"Do not so," said the Templar, who had hitherto stood gloomily looking
+on in silence. "The royal Duke of Austria and myself will not permit
+this unhappy Christian prince to be delivered over to the Saracens,
+that they may try their spells upon him. We are his sponsors, and demand
+that he be assigned to our care."
+
+"That is, you refuse the certain means offered to recover him?" said
+Richard.
+
+"Not so," said the Grand Master, recollecting himself. "If the Soldan
+useth lawful medicines, he may attend the patient in my tent."
+
+"Do so, I pray thee, good brother," said Richard to Saladin, "though the
+permission be ungraciously yielded.--But now to a more glorious work.
+Sound, trumpets--shout, England, in honor of England's champion!"
+
+Drum, clarion, trumpet, and cymbal, rung forth at once, and the deep and
+regular shout, which for ages has been the English acclamation, sounded
+amidst the shrill and irregular yells of the Arabs, like the diapason of
+the organ amid the howling of a storm. There was silence at length.
+
+"Brave Knight of the Leopard," resumed Coeur de Lion, "thou hast shown
+that the Ethiopian _may_ change his skin and the Leopard his spots,
+though clerks quote Scripture for the impossibility. Yet I have more to
+say to you when I have conducted you to the presence of the ladies, the
+best judges, and best rewarders, of deeds of chivalry."
+
+The Knight of the Leopard bowed assent.
+
+"And thou, princely Saladin, wilt also attend them. I promise thee our
+Queen will not think herself welcome, if she lacks the opportunity to
+thank her royal host for her most princely reception."
+
+Saladin bent his head gracefully, but declined the invitation.
+
+"I must attend the wounded man," he said. "The leech leaves not his
+patient more than the champion the lists, even if he be summoned to a
+bower like those of Paradise.... At noon," said the Soldan, as he
+departed, "I trust ye will all accept a collation under the black
+camel-skin tent of a chief of Curdistan."
+
+The same invitation was circulated among the Christians, comprehending
+all those of sufficient importance to be admitted to sit at a feast made
+for princes.
+
+"Hark!" said Richard, "the timbrels announce that our Queen and her
+attendants are leaving their gallery; and see, the turbans sink on the
+ground, as if struck down by a destroying angel. All lie prostrate, as
+if the glance of an Arab's eye could sully the lustre of a lady's cheek!
+Come, we will to the pavillion, and lead our conqueror thither in
+triumph. How I pity that noble Soldan, who knows but of love as it is
+known to those of inferior nature!"
+
+Blondel tuned his harp to its boldest measure, to welcome the
+introduction of the victor into the pavilion of Queen Berengaria.
+He entered, supported on either side by his sponsors, Richard and
+William Longsword, and knelt gracefully down before the Queen, though
+more than half the homage was silently rendered to Edith, who sat on
+her right hand.
+
+
+"Unarm him, my mistresses," said the King, whose delight was in the
+execution of such chivalrous usages; "let Beauty honor Chivalry! Undo
+his spurs, Berengaria; Queen though thou be, thou owest him what marks
+of favor thou canst give.--Unlace his helmet, Edith; by this hand, thou
+shalt, wert thou the proudest Plantagenet of the line, and he the
+poorest knight on earth!"
+
+Both ladies obeyed the royal commands,--Berengaria with bustling
+assiduity, as anxious to gratify her husband's humor, and Edith
+blushing and growing pale alternately, as slowly and awkwardly she
+undid, with Longsword's assistance, the fastenings which secured the
+helmet to the gorget.
+
+"And what expect you from beneath this iron shell?" said Richard, as the
+removal of the casque gave to view the noble countenance of Sir Kenneth,
+his face glowing with recent exertion, and not less so with present
+emotion. "What think ye of him, gallants and beauties?" said Richard.
+"Doth he resemble an Ethiopian slave, or doth he present the face of an
+obscure and nameless adventurer? No, by my good sword! Here terminate
+his various disguises. He hath knelt down before you, unknown save by
+his worth; he arises, equally distinguished by birth and by fortune. The
+adventurous knight, Kenneth, arises David, Earl of Huntingdon, Prince
+Royal of Scotland!"
+
+There was a general exclamation of surprise, and Edith dropped from her
+hand the helmet which she had just received....
+
+"May we know of your grace by what strange and happy chance this riddle
+has been read?" said the Queen Berengaria.
+
+"Letters were brought to us from England," said the King, "in which we
+learned, among other unpleasant news, that the King of Scotland had
+seized upon three of our nobles, when on a pilgrimage to Saint Ninian,
+and alleged as a cause, that his heir being supposed to be fighting in
+the ranks of the Teutonic Knights, against the heathen of Borussia, was,
+in fact, in our camp and in our power; and, therefore, William proposed
+to hold these nobles as hostages for his safety. This gave me the first
+light on the real rank of the Knight of the Leopard, and my suspicions
+were confirmed by De Vaux, who, on his return from Ascalon, brought back
+with him the Earl of Huntingdon's sole attendant, a thick-skulled slave,
+who had gone thirty miles to unfold to De Vaux a secret he should have
+told to me."
+
+"Old Strauchan must be excused," said the Lord of Gilsland. "He knew
+from experience that my heart is somewhat softer than if I wrote myself
+Plantagenet."
+
+"Thy heart soft? thou commodity of old iron, and Cumberland flint that
+thou art!" exclaimed the King. "It is we Plantagenets who boast soft and
+feeling hearts, Edith," he continued, turning to his cousin, with an
+expression which called the blood into her cheek.--"Give me thy hand, my
+fair cousin, and, Prince of Scotland, thine."...
+
+It is needless to follow into further particulars the conferences at the
+royal tent, or to enquire whether David, Earl of Huntingdon, was as mute
+in the presence of Edith Plantagenet, as when he was bound to act under
+the character of an obscure and nameless adventurer. It may be well
+believed that he there expressed, with suitable earnestness, the passion
+to which he had so often before found it difficult to give words.
+
+The hour of noon now approached, and Saladin waited to receive the
+Princes of Christendom in a tent, which, but for its large size,
+differed little from that of the ordinary shelter of the common Curdman,
+or Arab; yet, beneath its ample and sable covering, was prepared a
+banquet after the most gorgeous fashion of the East, extended upon
+carpets of the richest stuffs, with cushions laid for the guests. But we
+cannot stop to describe the cloth of gold and silver, the superb
+embroidery in Arabesque, the shawls of Cashmere, and the muslins of
+India, which were here unfolded in all their splendor; far less to tell
+the different sweetmeats, ragouts edged with rice colored in various
+manners, with all the other niceties of Eastern cookery. Lambs roasted
+whole, and game and poultry dressed in pilaus, were piled in vessels of
+gold, and silver, and porcelain, and intermixed with large mazers of
+sherbet, cooled in snow and ice from the caverns of Mount Lebanon. A
+magnificent pile of cushions at the head of the banquet, seemed prepared
+for the master of the feast, and such dignitaries as he might call to
+share that place of distinction, while from the roof of the tent in all
+quarters, but over this seat of eminence in particular, waved many a
+banner and pennon, the trophies of battles won, and kingdoms overthrown.
+But amongst and above them all, a long lance displayed a shroud, the
+banner of Death, with this impressive inscription, "SALADIN, KING OF
+KINGS--SALADIN, VICTOR OF VICTORS--SALADIN MUST DIE." Amid these
+preparations, the slaves who had arranged the refreshments stood with
+drooped heads and folded arms, mute and motionless as monumental
+statuary, or as automata, which waited the touch of the artist to put
+them in motion.
+
+Expecting the approach of his princely guests, the Soldan, imbued, as
+most were, with the superstitions of his time, paused over a horoscope
+and corresponding scroll, which had been sent to him by the Hermit of
+Engaddi when he departed from the camp.
+
+"Strange and mysterious science," he muttered to himself, "which,
+pretending to draw the curtain of futurity, misleads those whom it seems
+to guide, and darkens the scene which it pretends to illuminate! Who
+would not have said that I was that enemy most dangerous to Richard,
+whose enmity was to be ended by marriage with his kinswoman? Yet it now
+appears that a union betwixt this gallant Earl and the lady will bring
+about friendship betwixt Richard and Scotland, an enemy more dangerous
+than I, as a wild cat in a chamber is more to be dreaded than a lion in
+a distant desert.--But then,...--How now, what means this intrusion?"
+
+He spoke to the dwarf Nectabanus, who rushed into the tent fearfully
+agitated, with each strange and disproportioned feature wrenched by
+horror into still more extravagant ugliness,--his mouth open, his eyes
+staring, his hands, with their shrivelled and deformed fingers, wildly
+expanded.
+
+"What now?" said the Soldan, sternly.
+
+"_Accipe hoc!_" groaned out the dwarf.
+
+"Ha! say'st thou?" answered Saladin.
+
+"_Accipe hoc!_" replied the panic-struck creature, unconscious, perhaps,
+that he repeated the same words as before.
+
+"Hence! I am in no vein for foolery," said the Emperor.
+
+"Nor am I further fool," said the dwarf, "than to make my folly help out
+my wits to earn my bread, poor helpless wretch!--Hear, hear me, great
+Soldan!"
+
+"Nay, if thou hast actual wrong to complain of," said Saladin, "fool or
+wise, thou art entitled to the ear of a King.--Retire hither with me;"
+and he led him into the inner tent.
+
+Whatever their conference related to, it was soon broken off by the
+fanfare of the trumpets, announcing the arrival of the various Christian
+princes, whom Saladin welcomed to his tent with a royal courtesy well
+becoming their rank and his own; but chiefly he saluted the young Earl
+of Huntingdon, and generously congratulated him upon prospects, which
+seemed to have interfered with and overclouded those which he had
+himself entertained.
+
+"But think not," said the Soldan, "thou noble youth, that the Prince of
+Scotland is more welcome to Saladin, than was Kenneth to the solitary
+Ilderim when they met in the desert, or the distressed Ethiop to the
+Hakim Adonbec. A brave and generous disposition like thine hath a value
+independent of condition and birth, as the cool draught which I here
+proffer thee, is as delicious from an earthen vessel as from a goblet of
+gold."
+
+The Earl of Huntingdon made a suitable reply, gratefully acknowledging
+the various important services he had received from the generous Soldan;
+but when he had pledged Saladin in the bowl of sherbet which the Soldan
+had proffered to him, he could not help remarking with a smile, "The
+brave cavalier, Ilderim, knew not of the formation of ice, but the
+munificent Soldan cools his sherbet with snow."
+
+"Wouldst thou have an Arab or a Curdman as wise as a Hakim?" said the
+Soldan. "He who does on a disguise must make the sentiments of his heart
+and the learning of his head accord with the dress which he assumes. I
+desired to see how a brave and single-hearted cavalier of Frangistan
+would conduct himself in debate with such a chief as I then seemed; and
+I questioned the truth of a well-known fact, to know by what arguments
+thou wouldst support thy assertion."
+
+While they were speaking, the Archduke of Austria, who stood a little
+apart, was struck with the mention of iced sherbet, and took with
+pleasure and some bluntness the deep goblet, as the Earl of Huntingdon
+was about to replace it.
+
+"Most delicious!" he exclaimed, after a deep draught, which the heat of
+the weather, and the feverishness following the debauch of the preceding
+day, had rendered doubly acceptable. He sighed as he handed the cup to
+the Grand Master of the Templars. Saladin made a sign to the dwarf, who
+advanced and pronounced, with a harsh voice, the words, _Accipe hoc!_
+The Templar started, like a steed who sees a lion under a bush, beside
+the pathway; yet instantly recovered, and to hide, perhaps, his
+confusion, raised the goblet to his lips;--but those lips never touched
+that goblet's rim. The sabre of Saladin left its sheath as lightning
+leaves the cloud. It was waved in the air,--and the head of the Grand
+Master rolled to the extremity of the tent, while the trunk remained,
+for a second, standing, with the goblet still clenched in its grasp,
+then fell, the liquor mingling with the blood that spurted from the
+veins.
+
+There was a general exclamation of treason, and Austria, nearest to whom
+Saladin stood with the bloody sabre in his hand, started back as if
+apprehensive that his turn was to come next. Richard and others laid
+hand on their swords.
+
+"Fear nothing, noble Austria," said Saladin, as composedly as if nothing
+had happened, "nor you, royal England, be wroth at what you have seen.
+Not for his manifold treasons;--not for the attempt which, as may be
+vouched by his own squire, he instigated against King Richard's
+life;--not that he pursued the Prince of Scotland and myself in the
+desert, reducing us to save our lives by the speed of our horses;--not
+that he had stirred up the Maronites to attack us upon this very
+occasion, had I not brought up unexpectedly so many Arabs as rendered
+the scheme abortive;--not for any or all of these crimes does he now
+lie there, although each were deserving such a doom;--but because,
+scarce half-an-hour ere he polluted our presence, as the simoom
+empoisons the atmosphere, he poniarded his comrade and accomplice,
+Conrade of Montserrat, lest he should confess the infamous plots in
+which they had both been engaged."
+
+"How! Conrade murdered?--And by the Grand Master, his sponsor and most
+intimate friend!" exclaimed Richard. "Noble Soldan, I would not doubt
+thee; yet this must be proved; otherwise"----
+
+"There stands the evidence," said Saladin, pointing to the terrified
+dwarf. "Allah, who sends the fire-fly to illuminate the night-season,
+can discover secret crimes by the most contemptible means."
+
+The Soldan proceeded to tell the dwarf's story, which amounted to
+this.--In his foolish curiosity, or as he partly confessed, with some
+thoughts of pilfering, Nectabanus had strayed into the tent of Conrade,
+which had been deserted by his attendants, some of whom had left the
+encampment to carry the news of his defeat to his brother, and others
+were availing themselves of the means which Saladin had supplied for
+revelling. The wounded man slept under the influence of Saladin's
+wonderful talisman, so that the dwarf had opportunity to pry about at
+pleasure, until he was frightened into concealment by the sound of a
+heavy step. He skulked behind a curtain, yet could see the motions, and
+hear the words of the Grand Master, who entered, and carefully secured
+the covering of the pavillion behind him. His victim started from sleep,
+and it would appear that he instantly suspected the purpose of his old
+associate, for it was in a tone of alarm that he demanded wherefore he
+disturbed him.
+
+"I come to confess and absolve thee," answered the Grand Master.
+
+Of their further speech the terrified dwarf remembered little, save that
+Conrade implored the Grand Master not to break a wounded reed, and that
+the Templar struck him to the heart with a Turkish dagger, with the
+words _Accipe hoc_,--words which long afterward haunted the terrified
+imagination of the concealed witness.
+
+"I verified the tale," said Saladin, "by causing the body to be
+examined; and I made this unhappy being, whom Allah hath made the
+discoverer of the crime, repeat in your own presence the words which the
+murderer spoke, and you yourselves saw the effect which they produced
+upon his conscience."
+
+The Soldan paused, and the King of England broke silence:--
+
+"If this be true, as I doubt not, we have witnessed a great act of
+justice, though it bore a different aspect. But wherefore in this
+presence? wherefore with thine own hand?"
+
+"I had designed otherwise," said Saladin, "but had I not hastened his
+doom, it had been altogether averted, since, if I had permitted him to
+taste of my cup, as he was about to do, how could I, without incurring
+the brand of inhospitality, have done him to death as he deserved? Had
+he murdered my father, and afterward partaken of my food and my bowl,
+not a hair of his head could have been injured by me. But enough of him;
+let his carcass and his memory be removed from amongst us."
+
+The body was carried away, and the marks of the slaughter obliterated or
+concealed with such ready dexterity, as showed that the case was not
+altogether so uncommon, as to paralyze the assistants and officers of
+Saladin's household.
+
+But the Christian princes felt that the scene which they had beheld
+weighed heavily on their spirits, and although, at the courteous
+invitation of the Soldan, they assumed their seats at the banquet, yet
+it was with the silence of doubt and amazement. The spirits of Richard
+alone surmounted all cause for suspicion or embarrassment. Yet he, too,
+seemed to ruminate on some proposition, as if he were desirous of making
+it in the most insinuating and acceptable manner which was possible. At
+length he drank off a large bowl of wine, and addressing the Soldan,
+desired to know whether it was not true that he had honored the Earl of
+Huntingdon with a personal encounter.
+
+Saladin answered with a smile, that he had proved his horse and his
+weapons with the heir of Scotland, as cavaliers are wont to do with each
+other when they meet in the desert; and modestly added that, though the
+combat was not entirely decisive, he had not, on his part, much reason
+to pride himself on the event. The Scot, on the other hand, disclaimed
+the attributed superiority, and wished to assign it to the Soldan.
+
+"Enough of honor thou hast had in the encounter," said Richard, "and I
+envy thee more for that, than for the smiles of Edith Plantagenet,
+though one of them might reward a bloody day's work.--But what say you,
+noble princes; is it fitting that such a royal ring of chivalry should
+break up without something being done for future times to speak of? What
+is the overthrow and death of a traitor, to such a fair garland of honor
+as is here assembled, and which ought not to part without witnessing
+something more worthy of their regard? How say you, princely Soldan;
+what if we two should now, and before this fair company, decide the
+long-contended question for this land of Palestine, and end at once
+these tedious wars? Yonder are the lists ready, nor can Paynimrie ever
+hope a better champion than thou. I, unless worthier offers, will lay
+down my gauntlet in behalf of Christendom, and, in all love and honor,
+we will do mortal battle for the possession of Jerusalem."
+
+There was a deep pause for the Soldan's answer. His cheek and brow
+colored highly, and it was the opinion of many present that he hesitated
+whether he should accept the challenge. At length he said: "Fighting for
+the Holy City against those whom we regard as idolaters, and worshippers
+of stocks and stones, and graven images, I might confide that Allah
+would strengthen my arm; or if I fell beneath the sword of the Melech
+Ric, I could not pass to Paradise by a more glorious death. But Allah
+has already given Jerusalem to the true believers, and it were a
+tempting the God of the Prophet to peril, upon my own personal strength
+and skill, that which I hold securely by the superiority of my forces."
+
+"If not for Jerusalem, then," said Richard, in the tone of one who would
+entreat a favor of an intimate friend, "yet, for the love of honor, let
+us run at least three courses with grinded lances."
+
+"Even this," said Saladin, half smiling at Coeur de Lion's
+affectionate earnestness for the combat, "even this I may not lawfully
+do. The Master places the shepherd over the flock, not for the
+shepherd's own sake, but for the sake of the sheep. Had I a son to hold
+the sceptre when I fell, I might have had the liberty, as I have the
+will, to brave this bold encounter; but your own Scripture sayeth, that
+when the herdsman is smitten, the sheep are scattered."
+
+"Thou hast had all the fortune," said Richard, turning to the Earl of
+Huntingdon with a sigh. "I would have given the best year of my life for
+that one half-hour beside the Diamond of the Desert!"
+
+The chivalrous extravagance of Richard awakened the spirits of the
+assembly, and when at length they arose to depart, Saladin advanced and
+took Coeur de Lion by the hand.
+
+"Noble King of England," he said, "we now part, never to meet again.
+That your league is dissolved, no more to be reunited, and that your
+native forces are far too few to enable you to prosecute your
+enterprise, is as well known to me as to yourself. I may not yield you
+up that Jerusalem which you so much desire to hold. It is to us, as to
+you, a Holy City. But whatever other terms Richard demands of Saladin,
+shall be as willingly yielded as yonder fountain yields its waters. Ay,
+and the same should be as frankly afforded by Saladin, if Richard stood
+in the desert with but two archers in his train!"
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[I] While the army of the crusaders was inactive near Ascalon, a
+truce having been agreed to between the Saracens and their
+assailants, the Grand Master of the Templars, Conrade Marquis of
+Montserrat, and others of the Christian Princes, were plotting to
+effect its dismemberment. Richard of England was the leading spirit
+of the crusade, and the plotters wished either to get rid of him or
+to inspire his colleagues with jealousy of his leadership. The Grand
+Master sought to have the King assassinated. Conrade tried to break
+up the league by milder means: he first provoked the Duke of Austria
+to insult the English banner; and then thinking rightly that the
+suspicion and wrath of Richard would fall upon Austria, he secretly
+stole the banner from its place. Its safe-keeping, after Austria's
+insult, had been entrusted by the King to Sir Kenneth, known as the
+Knight of the Leopard, in reality David Prince of Scotland, who in
+the disguise of an obscure gentleman had joined the crusade as a
+follower of the English King. Sir Kenneth was innocently decoyed from
+his watch, and in his absence, the banner, left with but his dog to
+guard it, was stolen by Conrade. For his failure of duty. Sir Kenneth
+was condemned to immediate death, but Saladin, who in the disguise of
+an Arab physician was in the English camp, and who had rescued the
+King from death by fever, urgently interceding, his life was spared.
+Saladin took Sir Kenneth to the camp of the Saracens, and knowing his
+worth and valor, having previously had knightly encounter with him in
+the desert, disguised him as a Nubian slave, and sent him as a
+present to Richard with the hope that he might in some way discover
+by whom the banner had been stolen. Attending Richard as a slave Sir
+Kenneth saved the king from the assassination which the Grand Master
+had instigated, and aided by the instinct of his dog, also disguised,
+he detected the thief in Conrade. Richard thereupon, at once charged
+Conrade with the theft, and challenged him to mortal combat. The King
+was prevented by the Council of the Princes from fighting in person,
+but having divined in the Nubian slave the former Knight of the
+Leopard, he permitted Sir Kenneth to fight in his stead, that the
+knight might atone for the dishonor of being faithless in his watch.
+Conrade's cause was espoused by the Grand Master, who had been his
+confidant, and by the Duke of Austria. The encounter was appointed to
+take place at the Diamond of the Desert, in the territory of Saladin,
+who was asked to act as umpire. It had been stipulated that but five
+hundred Saracens should be present at the trial; Saladin, however,
+having been apprised of further plotting on the part of the Grand
+Master, for safety's sake caused a larger attendance of his
+followers. Sir Kenneth had long loved Edith Plantagenet, but being
+known to her only as a poor and nameless adventurer, he had not yet
+openly avowed his love.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL.
+
+(AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND.)
+
+WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.--1770-1850.
+
+
+    Sweet Highland girl, a very shower
+    Of beauty is thy earthly dower!
+    Twice seven consenting years have shed
+    Their utmost bounty on thy head:
+    And these gray rocks; this household lawn;
+    These trees, a veil just half withdrawn;
+    This fall of water, that doth make
+    A murmur near the silent lake;
+    This little bay, a quiet road
+    That holds in shelter thy abode;
+    In truth, together do ye seem
+    Like something fashion'd in a dream;
+    Such forms as from their covert peep
+    When earthly cares are laid asleep!
+    Yet, dream and vision as thou art,
+    I bless thee with a human heart:
+    God shield thee to thy latest years!
+    Thee neither know I nor thy peers;
+    And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears.
+
+      With earnest feeling I shall pray
+    For thee when I am far away:
+    For never saw I mien, or face,
+    In which more plainly I could trace
+    Benignity and home-bred sense
+    Ripening in perfect innocence.
+    Here scatter'd like a random seed,
+    Remote from men, thou dost not need
+    The embarrass'd look of shy distress,
+    And maidenly shamefacèdness:
+    Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear
+    The freedom of a mountaineer:
+    A face with gladness overspread!
+    Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!
+    And seemliness complete, that sways
+    Thy courtesies, about thee plays;
+    With no restraint, but such as springs
+    From quick and eager visitings
+    Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach
+    Of thy few words of English speech:
+    A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife
+    That gives thy gestures grace and life!
+    So have I, not unmov'd in mind,
+    Seen birds of tempest-loving kind,
+    Thus beating up against the wind.
+
+      What hand but would a garland cull
+    For thee who art so beautiful?
+    O happy pleasure! here to dwell
+    Beside thee in some heathy dell;
+    Adopt your homely ways, and dress,
+    A shepherd, thou a shepherdess!
+    But I could frame a wish for thee
+    More like a grave reality:
+    Thou art to me but as a wave
+    Of the wild sea; and I would have
+    Some claim upon thee, if I could,
+    Though but of common neighborhood.
+    What joy to hear thee, and to see!
+    Thy elder brother I would be,
+    Thy father, anything to thee!
+
+      Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace
+    Hath led me to this lonely place.
+    Joy have I had; and going hence
+    I bear away my recompense.
+    In spots like these it is we prize
+    Our memory, feel that she hath eyes:
+    Then, why should I be loth to stir?
+    I feel this place was made for her;
+    To give new pleasure like the past,
+    Continued long as life shall last.
+    Nor am I loth, though pleas'd at heart,
+    Sweet Highland girl! from thee to part;
+    For I, methinks, till I grow old,
+    As fair before me shall behold,
+    As I do now, the cabin small,
+    The lake, the bay, the waterfall;
+    And thee, the spirit of them all!
+
+
+
+
+XXXII. FRANCE: AN ODE.
+
+(1797.)
+
+SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.--1772-1834.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause,
+      Whose pathless march no mortal may control!
+      Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll,
+    Yield homage only to eternal laws!
+    Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing,
+      Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclin'd,
+    Save when your own imperious branches, swinging,
+      Have made a solemn music of the wind!
+        Where, like a man belov'd of God,
+        Through glooms, which never woodman trod,
+      How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
+    My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,
+      Inspir'd, beyond the guess of folly,
+    By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!
+    O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!
+      And O ye Clouds that far above me soar'd!
+    Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!
+    Yea, every thing that is and will be free!
+    Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,
+      With what deep worship I have still ador'd
+    The spirit of divinest Liberty.
+
+
+II.
+
+    When France in wrath her giant-limbs uprear'd,
+      And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea,
+      Stamp'd her strong foot and said she would be free,
+    Bear witness for me, how I hoped and fear'd!
+    With what a joy my lofty gratulation
+      Unaw'd I sang, amid a slavish band;
+    And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,
+      Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand.
+        The Monarchs march'd in evil day,
+        And Britain join'd the dire array,
+      Though dear her shores and circling ocean,
+    Though many friendships, many youthful loves,
+      Had swoll'n the patriot emotion,
+    And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves;
+    Yet still my voice, unalter'd, sang defeat
+      To all that brav'd the tyrant-quelling lance,
+    And shame too long delay'd and vain retreat!
+    For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim
+    I dimm'd thy light or damp'd thy holy flame;
+      But bless'd the pæans of deliver'd France,
+    And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.
+
+
+III.
+
+    "And what," I said, "though Blasphemy's loud scream
+      With that sweet music of deliverance strove!
+      Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove
+    A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream!
+    Ye Storms, that round the dawning east assembled,
+      The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!"
+    And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,
+      The dissonance ceas'd, and all seem'd calm and bright;
+        When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory
+        Conceal'd with clustering wreaths of glory;
+      When, insupportably advancing,
+    Her arm made mockery of the warrior's tramp,
+      While, timid looks of fury glancing,
+    Domestic treason, crush'd beneath her fatal stamp,
+    Writh'd like a wounded dragon in his gore:
+      Then I reproach'd my fears that would not flee;
+    "And soon," I said, "shall Wisdom teach her lore
+    In the low huts of them that toil and groan!
+    And, conquering by her happiness alone,
+      Shall France compel the nations to be free,
+    Till Love and Joy look round, and call the earth their own."
+
+
+IV.
+
+    Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!
+      I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament,
+      From bleak Helvetia's icy cavern sent,--
+    I hear thy groans upon her blood-stain'd streams!
+    Heroes, that for your peaceful country perish'd,
+      And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows
+    With bleeding wounds, forgive me, that I cherish'd
+      One thought that ever bless'd your cruel foes!
+        To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,
+        Where Peace her jealous home had built;
+      A patriot-race to disinherit
+    Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear,
+      And with inexpiable spirit
+    To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer,--
+    O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind,
+      And patriot only in pernicious toils,
+    Are these thy boasts, champion of human kind?
+    To mix with kings in the low lust of sway,
+    Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey;
+      To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils
+    From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?
+
+
+V.
+
+    The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain,
+      Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game
+      They burst their manacles and wear the name
+    Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain!
+    O Liberty! with profitless endeavor
+      Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour;
+    But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever
+      Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power.
+        Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee
+        (Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee),
+      Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions,
+    And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves,
+      Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions,
+    The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves!
+    And there I felt thee!--on that sea-cliff's verge,
+      Whose pines, scarce travell'd by the breeze above,
+    Had made one murmur with the distant surge!
+    Yes, while I stood and gaz'd, my temples bare,
+    And shot my being through earth, sea, and air,
+      Possessing all things with intensest love,
+    O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII. COMPLAINT AND REPROOF.
+
+COLERIDGE.
+
+
+I.
+
+    How seldom, friend! a good great man inherits
+    Honor or wealth, with all his worth and pains!
+    It sounds like stories from the land of spirits,
+    If any man obtain that which he merits,
+    Or any merit that which he obtains.
+
+
+II.
+
+    For shame, dear friend! renounce this canting strain!
+    What wouldst thou have a good great man obtain?
+    Place--titles--salary--a gilded chain--
+    Or throne of corses which his sword hath slain?--
+    Greatness and goodness are not means but ends!
+    Hath he not always treasures, always friends,
+    The good great man?--three treasures,--love, and light,
+    And calm thoughts, regular as infant's breath;--
+    And three firm friends, more sure than day and night,--
+    Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.
+
+ROBERT SOUTHEY.--1774-1843.
+
+
+    A well there is in the west country,
+      And a clearer one never was seen;
+    There is not a wife in the west country
+      But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.
+
+    An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,
+      And behind doth an ash-tree grow,
+    And a willow from the bank above
+      Droops to the water below.
+
+    A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne;
+      Joyfully he drew nigh;
+    For from cock-crow he had been travelling,
+      And there was not a cloud in the sky.
+
+    He drank of the water so cool and clear,
+      For thirsty and hot was he;
+    And he sat down upon the bank
+      Under the willow-tree.
+
+    There came a man from the house hard by,
+      At the well to fill his pail;
+    On the well-side he rested it,
+      And he bade the stranger hail.
+
+    "Now, art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth he;
+      "For, an if thou hast a wife,
+    The happiest draught thou hast drank this day
+      That ever thou didst in thy life.
+
+    "Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast,
+      Ever here in Cornwall been?
+    For, an if she have, I'll venture my life
+      She has drank of the Well of St. Keyne."
+
+    "I have left a good woman who never was here,"
+      The stranger he made reply;
+    "But that my draught should be the better for that,
+      I pray you answer me why."
+
+    "St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish-man, "many a time
+      Drank of this crystal well;
+    And, before the angel summon'd her,
+      She laid on the water a spell,--
+
+    "If the husband of this gifted well
+      Shall drink before his wife,
+    A happy man thenceforth is he,
+      For he shall be master for life;
+
+    "But if the wife should drink of it first,
+      God help the husband then!"
+    The stranger stoop'd to the Well of St. Keyne,
+      And drank of the water again.
+
+    "You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes?"
+      He to the Cornish-man said;
+    But the Cornish-man smiled as the stranger spake,
+      And sheepishly shook his head:--
+
+    "I hasten'd, as soon as the wedding was done,
+      And left my wife in the porch;
+    But i' faith she had been wiser than me,
+      For she took a bottle to church."
+
+
+
+
+XXXV. THE ISLES OF GREECE.
+
+LORD BYRON.--1788-1824.
+
+
+    The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!
+      Where burning Sappho lov'd and sung,
+    Where grew the arts of war and peace,
+      Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
+    Eternal summer gilds them yet,
+    But all, except their sun, is set.
+
+    The Scian and the Teian muse,
+      The hero's harp, the lover's lute,
+    Have found the fame your shores refuse:
+      Their place of birth alone is mute
+    To sounds which echo further west
+    Than your sires' "Islands of the Blest."
+
+    The mountains look on Marathon--
+      And Marathon looks on the sea;
+    And musing there an hour alone,
+      I dream'd that Greece might still be free;
+    For standing on the Persians' grave,
+    I could not deem myself a slave.
+
+    A king sate on the rocky brow
+      Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;
+    And ships, by thousands, lay below,
+      And men in nations;--all were his!
+    He counted them at break of day--
+    And when the sun set, where were they?
+
+    And where are they? and where art thou,
+      My country? On thy voiceless shore
+    The heroic lay is tuneless now--
+      The heroic bosom beats no more!
+    And must thy lyre, so long divine,
+    Degenerate into hands like mine?
+
+    'Tis something, in the dearth of fame,
+      Though link'd among a fetter'd race,
+    To feel at least a patriot's shame,
+      Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
+    For what is left the poet here?
+    For Greeks a blush--for Greece a tear.
+
+    Must _we_ but weep o'er days more blest?
+      Must _we_ but blush?--Our fathers bled.
+    Earth! render back from out thy breast
+      A remnant of our Spartan dead!
+    Of the three hundred grant but three,
+    To make a new Thermopylæ!
+
+    What, silent still? and silent all?
+      Ah! no;--the voices of the dead
+    Sound like a distant torrent's fall,
+      And answer, "Let one living head,
+    But one, arise,--we come, we come!"
+    'Tis but the living who are dumb.
+
+    In vain--in vain: strike other chords;
+      Fill high the cup with Samian wine!
+    Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,
+      And shed the blood of Scio's vine!
+    Hark! rising to the ignoble call--
+    How answers each bold Bacchanal!
+
+    You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet;
+      Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
+    Of two such lessons, why forget
+      The nobler and the manlier one?
+    You have the letters Cadmus gave--
+    Think ye he meant them for a slave?
+
+    Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
+      We will not think of themes like these!
+    It made Anacreon's song divine:
+      He served--but served Polycrates--
+    A tyrant; but our masters then
+    Were still, at least, our countrymen.
+
+    The tyrant of the Chersonese
+      Was freedom's best and bravest friend;
+    _That_ tyrant was Miltiades!
+      Oh! that the present hour would lend
+    Another despot of the kind!
+    Such chains as his were sure to bind.
+
+    Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
+      On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore,
+    Exists the remnant of a line
+      Such as the Doric mothers bore;
+    And there, perhaps, some seed is sown,
+    The Heracleidan blood might own.
+
+    Trust not for freedom to the Franks--
+      They have a king who buys and sells:
+    In native swords, and native ranks,
+      The only hope of courage dwells;
+    But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,
+    Would break your shield, however broad.
+
+    Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
+      Our virgins dance beneath the shade--
+    I see their glorious black eyes shine;
+      But gazing on each glowing maid,
+    My own the burning tear-drop laves,
+    To think such breasts must suckle slaves.
+
+    Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
+      Where nothing, save the waves and I,
+    May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
+      There, swan-like, let me sing and die:
+    A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine--
+    Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI. GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE.
+
+THOMAS MOORE.--1779-1852.
+
+
+    Go where glory waits thee;
+    But, while fame elates thee,
+        O, still remember me!
+    When the praise thou meetest
+    To thine ear is sweetest,
+        O, then remember me!
+    Other arms may press thee,
+    Dearer friends caress thee,
+    All the joys that bless thee
+        Sweeter far may be;
+    But when friends are nearest,
+    And when joys are dearest,
+        O, then remember me!
+
+    When, at eve, thou rovest
+    By the star thou lovest,
+        O, then remember me!
+    Think, when home returning,
+    Bright we've seen it burning,
+        O, thus remember me!
+    Oft as summer closes,
+    When thine eye reposes
+    On its lingering roses,
+        Once so lov'd by thee,
+    Think of her who wove them,
+    Her who made thee love them,
+        O, then remember me!
+
+    When, around thee dying,
+    Autumn leaves are lying,
+        O, then remember me!
+    And, at night, when gazing
+    On the gay hearth blazing,
+        O, still remember me!
+    Then, should music, stealing
+    All the soul of feeling,
+    To thy heart appealing,
+        Draw one tear from thee;
+    Then let memory bring thee
+    Strains I used to sing thee,--
+        O, then remember me!
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII. DEAR HARP OF MY COUNTRY.
+
+MOORE.
+
+
+    Dear Harp of my Country! in darkness I found thee,
+      The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long,
+    When proudly, my own Island Harp, I unbound thee,
+      And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song!
+
+    The warm lay of love and the light note of gladness
+      Have waken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill;
+    But, so oft hast thou echo'd the deep sigh of sadness,
+      That ev'n in thy mirth it will steal from thee still.
+
+    Dear Harp of my Country! farewell to thy numbers,
+      This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine!
+    Go, sleep with the sunshine of fame on thy slumbers,
+      Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine;
+
+    If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover,
+      Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone;
+    I was _but_ as the wind, passing heedlessly over,
+      And all the wild sweetness I waked was thy own.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII. COME, YE DISCONSOLATE.
+
+MOORE.
+
+
+    Come, ye disconsolate, where'er you languish,
+      Come, at God's altar fervently kneel;
+    Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish--
+      Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
+
+    Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying,
+      Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure,
+    Here speaks the Comforter, in God's name saying,--
+      "Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure."
+
+    Go, ask the infidel, what boon he brings us,
+      What charm for aching hearts _he_ can reveal,
+    Sweet as that heavenly promise Hope sings us,
+      "Earth has no sorrow that God cannot heal."
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX. ON A LOCK OF MILTON'S HAIR.
+
+LEIGH HUNT.--1784-1859.
+
+
+    It lies before me there, and my own breath
+    Stirs its thin outer threads, as though beside
+    The living head I stood in honor'd pride,
+    Talking of lovely things that conquer death.
+    Perhaps he press'd it once, or underneath
+    Ran his fine fingers, when he leant, blank-ey'd,
+    And saw, in fancy, Adam and his bride
+    With their rich locks, or his own Delphic wreath.
+    There seems a love in hair, though it be dead.
+    It is the gentlest, yet the strongest thread
+    Of our frail plant,--a blossom from the tree
+    Surviving the proud trunk;--as though it said
+    Patience and gentleness is power; in me
+    Behold affectionate eternity.
+
+
+
+
+XL. THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.
+
+LEIGH HUNT.
+
+
+    King Francis was a hearty king, and lov'd a royal sport,
+    And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the court:
+    The nobles fill'd the benches round, the ladies by their side,
+    And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make
+              his bride;
+    And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,
+    Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.
+
+    Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;
+    They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with
+              their paws;
+    With wallowing might and stifled roar they roll'd one on another,
+    Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thund'rous smother;
+    The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air;
+    Said Francis then, "Good gentlemen, we're better here than there!"
+
+    De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous, lively dame,
+    With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, which always seem'd
+              the same:
+    She thought, "The Count, my lover, is as brave as brave can be;
+    He surely would do desperate things to show his love of me!
+    King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the chance is wondrous fine;
+    I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory will be mine!"
+
+    She dropp'd her glove to prove his love: then look'd on him
+              and smiled;
+    He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions wild:
+    The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon regain'd his place;
+    Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face!
+    "In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where
+              he sat:
+    "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Rough wind, that moanest loud
+      Grief too sad for song;
+    Wild wind, when sullen cloud
+      Knells all the night long;
+    Sad storm, whose tears are vain,
+    Bare woods, whose branches strain,
+    Deep caves and dreary main,
+      Wail, for the world's wrong._
+
+         _A Dirge_.--SHELLEY.
+
+
+
+
+XLI. THE CLOUD.
+
+PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.--1792-1822.
+
+
+I.
+
+    I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers
+      From the seas and the streams;
+    I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
+      In their noon-day dreams.
+    From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
+      The sweet buds every one,
+    When rock'd to rest on their Mother's breast,
+      As she dances about the sun.
+    I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
+      And whiten the green plains under;
+    And then again I dissolve it in rain,
+      And laugh as I pass in thunder.
+
+
+II.
+
+    I sift the snow on the mountains below,
+      And their great pines groan aghast;
+    And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
+      While I sleep in the arms of the Blast.
+    Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers
+      Lightning, my pilot, sits;
+    In a cavern under is fetter'd the Thunder,--
+      It struggles and howls at fits.
+    Over earth and ocean with gentle motion
+      This pilot is guiding me,
+    Lured by the love of the Genii that move
+      In the depths of the purple sea;
+    Over the rills and the crags and the hills,
+      Over the lakes and the plains,
+    Wherever he dream under mountain or stream
+      The Spirit he loves remains;
+    And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile,
+      Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
+
+
+III.
+
+    The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
+      And his burning plumes outspread,
+    Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
+      When the morning star shines dead;
+    As on the jag of a mountain-crag,
+      Which an earthquake rocks and swings,
+    An eagle alit one moment may sit
+      In the light of its golden wings.
+    And, when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,
+      Its ardor of rest and of love,
+    And the crimson pall of eve may fall
+      From the depth of heaven above,
+    With wings folded I rest on mine airy nest,
+      As still as a brooding dove.
+
+
+IV.
+
+    That orbèd maiden, with white-fire laden,
+      Whom mortals call the Moon,
+    Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor
+      By the midnight breezes strewn;
+    And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
+      Which only the angels hear,
+    May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,
+      The Stars peep behind her and peer.
+    And I laugh to see them whirl and flee
+      Like a swarm of golden bees,
+    When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,--
+      Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
+    Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
+      Are each pav'd with the moon and these.
+
+
+V.
+
+    I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,
+      And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;
+    The volcanoes are dim, and the Stars reel and swim,
+      When the Whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
+    From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,
+      Over a torrent sea,
+    Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,--
+      The mountains its columns be.
+    The triumphal arch, through which I march,
+      With hurricane, fire, and snow,
+    When the Powers of the air are chain'd to my chair,
+      Is the million-color'd bow;
+    The Sphere-fire above its soft colors wove,
+      While the moist Earth was laughing below.
+
+
+VI.
+
+    I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
+      And the nursling of the Sky;
+    I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
+      I change, but I cannot die.
+    For after the rain, when with never a stain
+      The pavilion of heaven is bare,
+    And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
+      Build up the blue dome of air,
+    I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,--
+      And out of the caverns of rain,
+    Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
+      I arise, and unbuild it again.
+
+
+
+
+XLII. ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.
+
+JOHN KEATS.--1795-1821.
+
+
+    Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
+    And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
+    Round many western islands have I been
+    Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
+    Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
+    That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne:
+    Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
+    Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
+    Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
+    When a new planet swims into his ken;
+    Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
+    He stared at the Pacific--and all his men
+    Look'd at each other with a wild surmise--
+    Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
+
+
+
+
+XLIII. ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET.
+
+KEATS.
+
+
+    The poetry of earth is never dead:
+    When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
+    And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
+    From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead:
+    That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead
+    In summer luxury,--he has never done
+    With his delights, for, when tired out with fun,
+    He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
+    The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
+    On a lone winter evening, when the frost
+    Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
+    The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
+    And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
+    The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
+
+
+
+
+XLIV. THE POWER AND DANGER OF THE CÆSARS.
+
+THOMAS DE QUINCEY.--1785-1859.
+
+_From_ THE CÆSARS.
+
+
+To this view of the imperial character and relations must be added one
+single circumstance, which in some measure altered the whole for the
+individual who happened to fill the office. The emperor _de facto_ might
+be viewed under two aspects; there was the man, and there was the
+office. In his office he was immortal and sacred: but as a question
+might still be raised, by means of a mercenary army, as to the claims of
+the particular individual who at any time filled the office, the very
+sanctity and privilege of the character with which he was clothed might
+actually be turned against himself; and here it is, at this point, that
+the character of Roman emperor became truly and mysteriously awful.
+Gibbon has taken notice of the extraordinary situation of a _subject_ in
+the Roman empire who should attempt to fly from the wrath of the Cæsar.
+Such was the ubiquity of the emperor that this was metaphysically
+hopeless. Except across pathless deserts or amongst barbarous nomads, it
+was impossible to find even a transient sanctuary from the imperial
+pursuit. If the fugitive went down to the sea, there he met the emperor:
+if he took the wings of the morning, and fled to the uttermost parts of
+the earth, there was also Cæsar in the person of his lieutenants. But,
+by a dreadful counter-charm, the same omnipresence of imperial anger and
+retribution which withered the hopes of the poor humble prisoner, met
+and confounded the emperor himself, when hurled from his elevation by
+some fortunate rival. All the kingdoms of the earth, to one in that
+situation, became but so many wards of the same infinite prison. Flight,
+if it were even successful for the moment, did but a little retard his
+inevitable doom. And so evident was this, that hardly in one instance
+did the fallen prince _attempt_ to fly; passively he met the death which
+was inevitable, in the very spot where ruin had overtaken him. Neither
+was it possible even for a merciful conqueror to show mercy; for, in
+the presence of an army so mercenary and factious, his own safety was
+but too deeply involved in the extermination of rival pretenders to
+the crown.
+
+Such, amidst the sacred security and inviolability of the office, was
+the hazardous tenure of the individual. Nor did his dangers always arise
+from persons in the rank of competitors and rivals. Sometimes it menaced
+him in quarters which his eye had never penetrated, and from enemies too
+obscure to have reached his ear. By way of illustration we will cite a
+case from the life of the Emperor Commodus, which is wild enough to have
+furnished the plot of a romance, though as well authenticated as any
+other passage in that reign. The story is narrated by Herodian, and the
+outline was this:--A slave of noble qualities, and of magnificent
+person, having liberated himself from the degradations of bondage,
+determined to avenge his own wrongs by inflicting continual terror upon
+the town and neighborhood which had witnessed his humiliation. For this
+purpose he resorted to the woody recesses of the province (somewhere in
+the modern Transylvania), and, attracting to his wild encampment as many
+fugitives as he could, by degrees he succeeded in training a very
+formidable troop of freebooters. Partly from the energy of his own
+nature, and partly from the neglect and remissness of the provincial
+magistrates, the robber captain rose from less to more, until he had
+formed a little army, equal to the task of assaulting fortified cities.
+In this stage of his adventures he encountered and defeated several of
+the imperial officers commanding large detachments of troops; and at
+length grew of consequence sufficient to draw upon himself the emperor's
+eye, and the honor of his personal displeasure. In high wrath and
+disdain at the insults offered to his eagles by this fugitive slave,
+Commodus fulminated against him such an edict as left him no hope of
+much longer escaping with impunity.
+
+Public vengeance was now awakened; the imperial troops were marching
+from every quarter upon the same centre; and the slave became sensible
+that in a very short space of time he must be surrounded and destroyed.
+In this desperate situation he took a desperate resolution: he assembled
+his troops, laid before them his plan, concerted the various steps for
+carrying it into effect, and then dismissed them as independent
+wanderers. So ends the first chapter of the tale.
+
+The next opens in the passes of the Alps, whither, by various routes, of
+seven or eight hundred miles in extent, these men had threaded their way
+in manifold disguises, through the very midst of the emperor's camps.
+According to this man's gigantic enterprise, in which the means were as
+audacious as the purpose, the conspirators were to rendezvous, and first
+to recognize each other, at the gates of Rome. From the Danube to the
+Tiber did this band of robbers severally pursue their perilous routes
+through all the difficulties of the road and the jealousies of the
+military stations, sustained by the mere thirst of vengeance--vengeance
+against that mighty foe whom they knew only by his proclamations against
+themselves. Everything continued to prosper; the conspirators met under
+the walls of Rome; the final details were arranged; and those also would
+have prospered but for a trifling accident. The season was one of
+general carnival at Rome; and, by the help of those disguises which the
+license of this festival time allowed, the murderers were to have
+penetrated as maskers to the emperor's retirement, when a casual word or
+two awoke the suspicions of a sentinel. One of the conspirators was
+arrested; under the terror and uncertainty of the moment, he made much
+ampler discoveries than were expected of him; the other accomplices were
+secured: and Commodus was delivered from the uplifted daggers of those
+who had sought him by months of patient wanderings, pursued through all
+the depths of the Illyrian forests, and the difficulties of the Alpine
+passes. It is not easy to find words of admiration commensurate to the
+energetic hardihood of a slave--who, by way of answer and reprisal to an
+edict summarily consigning him to persecution and death, determines to
+cross Europe in quest of its author, though no less a person than the
+master of the world--to seek him out in the inmost recesses of his
+capital city, of his private palace, of his consecrated bed-chamber--and
+there to lodge a dagger in his heart, as the adequate reply to the
+imperial sentence of proscription against himself.
+
+Such, amidst the superhuman grandeur and hallowed privileges of the
+Roman emperor's office, were the extraordinary perils which menaced the
+individual officer. The office rose by its grandeur to a region above
+the clouds and vapors of earth: the officer might find his personal
+security as unsubstantial as those wandering vapors. Nor is it possible
+that these circumstances of violent opposition can be better
+illustrated than in this tale of Herodian. Whilst the emperor's mighty
+arms were stretched out to arrest some potentate in the heart of Asia, a
+poor slave is silently and stealthily creeping round the base of the
+Alps, with the purpose of winning his way as a murderer to the imperial
+bed-chamber; Cæsar is watching some potent rebel of the Orient, at a
+distance of two thousand leagues, and he overlooks the dagger which is
+within three stealthy steps, and one tiger's leap, of his own heart. All
+the heights and the depths which belong to man's frailty, all the
+contrasts of glory and meanness, the extremities of what is highest and
+lowest in human casualties, meeting in the station of the Roman Cæsar
+Semper Augustus--have combined to call him into high marble relief, and
+to make him the most interesting study of all whom history has
+emblazoned with colors of fire and blood, or has crowned most lavishly
+with diadems of cyprus and laurel.
+
+
+
+
+XLV. UNTHOUGHTFULNESS.
+
+DR. ARNOLD.--1795-1842.
+
+_A Lecture delivered in Rugby Chapel._
+
+
+The state of spiritual folly is, I suppose, one of the most universal
+evils in the world. For the number of those who are naturally foolish is
+exceedingly great; of those, I mean, who understand no worldly thing
+well; of those who are careless about everything, carried about by every
+breath of opinion, without knowledge, and without principle. But the
+term spiritual folly includes, unhappily, a great many more than these;
+it takes in not those only who are in the common sense of the term
+foolish, but a great many who are in the common sense of the term
+clever, and many who are even in the common sense of the terms, prudent,
+sensible, thoughtful, and wise. It is but too evident that some of the
+ablest men who have ever lived upon earth, have been in no less a degree
+spiritually fools. And thus, it is not without much truth that Christian
+writers have dwelt upon the insufficiency of worldly wisdom, and have
+warned their readers to beware, lest, while professing themselves to be
+wise, they should be accounted as fools in the sight of God.
+
+But the opposite to this notion, that those who are, as it were, fools
+in worldly matters are wise before God,--although this also is true in a
+certain sense, and under certain peculiar circumstances, yet taken
+generally, it is the very reverse of truth; and the careless and
+incautious language which has been often used on this subject, has been
+extremely mischievous. On the contrary, he who is foolish in worldly
+matters is likely also to be, and most commonly is, no less foolish in
+the things of God. And the opposite belief has arisen mainly from that
+strange confusion between ignorance and innocence, with which many
+ignorant persons seem to solace themselves. Whereas, if you take away a
+man's knowledge, you do not bring him to the state of an infant, but to
+that of a brute; and of one of the most mischievous and malignant of the
+brute creation. For you do not lessen or weaken the man's body by
+lowering his mind; he still retains his strength and his passions, the
+passions leading to self-indulgence, the strength which enables him to
+feed them by continued gratification. He will not think, it is true, to
+any good purpose; it is very possible to destroy in him the power of
+reflection, whether as exercised upon outward things, or upon himself
+and his own nature, or upon God. But you cannot destroy the power of
+adapting means to ends, nor that of concealing his purposes by fraud or
+falsehood; you take only his wisdom, and leave that cunning which marks
+so notoriously both the savage and the madman. He, then, who is a fool
+as far as regards earthly things, is much more a fool with regard to
+heavenly things; he who cannot raise himself even to the lower height,
+how is he to attain to the higher? he who is without reason and
+conscience, how shall he be endowed with the spirit of God?
+
+It is my deep conviction and long experience of this truth, which makes
+me so grieve over a want of interest in your own improvement in human
+learning, whenever I observe it,--over the prevalence of a thoughtless
+and childish spirit amongst you.... The idleness and want of interest
+which I grieve for, is one which extends itself, but too impartially, to
+knowledge of every kind: to divine knowledge, as might be expected, even
+more than to human. Those whom we commonly find careless about their
+general lessons, are quite as ignorant and as careless about their
+Bibles; those who have no interest in general literature, in poetry, or
+in history, or in philosophy, have certainly no greater interest, I do
+not say in works of theology, but in works of practical devotion, in the
+lives of holy men, in meditations, or in prayers. Alas, the interest of
+their minds is bestowed on things far lower than the very lowest of all
+which I have named; and therefore, to see them desiring something only a
+little higher than their present pursuits, could not but be encouraging;
+it would, at least, show that the mind was rising upwards. It may,
+indeed, stop at a point short of the highest, it may learn to love
+earthly excellence, and rest there contented, and seek for nothing
+more perfect; but that, at any rate, is a future and merely contingent
+evil. It is better to love earthly excellence than earthly folly; it is
+far better in itself, and it is, by many degrees, nearer to the Kingdom
+of God.
+
+There is another case, however, which I cannot but think is more
+frequent now than formerly; and if it is so, it may be worth while to
+direct our attention to it. Common idleness and absolute ignorance are
+not what I wish to speak of now, but a character advanced above these; a
+character which does not neglect its school-lessons, but really attains
+to considerable proficiency in them; a character at once regular and
+amiable, abstaining from evil, and for evil in its low and grosser forms
+having a real abhorrence. What, then, you will say, is wanting here? I
+will tell you what seems to be wanting--a spirit of manly, and much more
+of Christian, thoughtfulness. There is quickness and cleverness; much
+pleasure, perhaps, in distinction, but little in improvement; there is
+no desire of knowledge for its own sake, whether human or divine. There
+is, therefore, but little power of combining and digesting what is read;
+and, consequently, what is read passes away, and takes no root in the
+mind. This same character shows itself in matters of conduct; it will
+adopt, without scruple, the most foolish, commonplace notions of boys,
+about what is right and wrong; it will not, and cannot, from the
+lightness of its mind, concern itself seriously about what is evil in
+the conduct of others, because it takes no regular care of its own, with
+reference to pleasing God; it will not do anything low or wicked, but it
+will sometimes laugh at those who do; and it will by no means take
+pains to encourage, nay, it will sometimes thwart and oppose anything
+that breathes a higher spirit, and asserts a more manly and Christian
+standard of duty.
+
+One cause of this consists in the number and character and cheapness,
+and peculiar mode of publication, of the works of amusement of the
+present day. The works of amusement published only a very few years
+since were comparatively few in number; they were less exciting, and
+therefore less attractive; they were dearer, and therefore less
+accessible; and, not being published periodically, they did not occupy
+the mind for so long a time, nor keep alive so constant an expectation;
+nor, by thus dwelling upon the mind, and distilling themselves into it
+as it were drop by drop, did they possess it so largely, coloring even,
+in many instances, its very language, and affording frequent matter for
+conversation.
+
+The evil of all these circumstances is actually enormous. The mass of
+human minds, and much more of the minds of young persons, have no great
+appetite for intellectual exercise; but they have some, which by careful
+treatment may be strengthened and increased. But here to this weak and
+delicate appetite is presented an abundance of the most stimulating and
+least nourishing food possible. It snatches it greedily, and is not only
+satisfied, but actually conceives a distaste for anything simpler and
+more wholesome. That curiosity which is wisely given us to lead us on to
+knowledge, finds its full gratification in the details of an exciting
+and protracted story, and then lies down as it were gorged, and goes to
+sleep. Other faculties claim their turn, and have it. We know that in
+youth the healthy body and lively spirits require exercise, and in this
+they may and ought to be indulged; but the time and interest which
+remain over when the body has had its enjoyment, and the mind desires
+its share, this has been already wasted and exhausted upon things
+utterly unprofitable: so that the mind goes to its work hurriedly and
+languidly, and feels it to be no more than a burden. The mere lessons
+may be learnt from a sense of duty; but that freshness of power which in
+young persons of ability would fasten eagerly upon some one portion or
+other of the wide field of knowledge, and there expatiate, drinking in
+health and strength to the mind, as surely as the natural exercise of
+the body gives to it bodily vigor,--that is tired prematurely,
+perverted, and corrupted; and all the knowledge which else it might so
+covet, it now seems a wearying effort to retain.
+
+Great and grievous as is the evil, it is peculiarly hard to find the
+remedy for it. If the books to which I have been alluding were books of
+downright wickedness, we might destroy them wherever we found them; we
+might forbid their open circulation; we might conjure you to shun them
+as you would any other clear sin, whether of word or deed. But they are
+not wicked books for the most part; they are of that class which cannot
+be actually prohibited; nor can it be pretended that there is a sin in
+reading them. They are not the more wicked for being published so cheap,
+and at regular intervals; but yet these two circumstances make them so
+peculiarly injurious. All that can be done is to point out the evil;
+that it is real and serious I am very sure, and its defects are most
+deplorable on the minds of the fairest promise; but the remedy for it
+rests with yourselves, or rather with each of you individually, so far
+as he is himself concerned. That an unnatural and constant excitement of
+the mind is most injurious, there is no doubt; that excitement involves
+a consequent weakness, is a law of our nature than which none is surer;
+that the weakness of mind thus produced is and must be adverse to quiet
+study and thought, to that reflection which alone is wisdom, is also
+clear in itself, and proved too largely by experience. And that without
+reflection there can be no spiritual understanding, is at once evident;
+while without spiritual understanding, that is, without a knowledge and
+a study of God's will, there can be no spiritual life. And therefore
+childishness and unthoughtfulness cannot be light evils; and if I have
+rightly traced the prevalence of these defects to its cause, although
+that cause may seem to some to be trifling, yet surely it is well to
+call your attention to it, and to remind you that in reading works of
+amusement, as in every other lawful pleasure, there is and must be an
+abiding responsibility in the sight of God; that, like other lawful
+pleasures, we must beware of excess in it; and not only so, but if we
+find it hurtful to us, either because we have used it too freely in
+times past, or because our nature is too weak to bear it, that then we
+are bound most solemnly to abstain from it; because, however lawful in
+itself, or to others who can practise it without injury, whatever is to
+us an hindrance in the way of our intellectual and moral and spiritual
+improvement, that is in our case a positive sin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _There is a book, who runs may read, which heavenly truth
+        imparts;
+    And all the lore its scholars need,--pure eyes and Christian
+        hearts.
+    The works of God, above, below, within us and around,
+    Are pages in that book, to show how God Himself is found._
+
+        JOHN KEBLE.--1792-1866.
+
+
+
+
+XLVI. THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.
+
+THOMAS HOOD.--1799-1845.
+
+
+    One more Unfortunate,
+    Weary of breath,
+    Rashly importunate,
+    Gone to her death!
+
+    Take her up tenderly,
+    Lift her with care;
+    Fashion'd so slenderly,
+    Young, and so fair!
+
+    Look at her garments
+    Clinging like cerements;
+    Whilst the wave constantly
+    Drips from her clothing;
+    Take her up instantly,
+    Loving, not loathing.--
+
+    Touch her not scornfully;
+    Think of her mournfully,
+    Gently and humanly;
+    Not of the stains of her,--
+    All that remains of her
+    Now is pure womanly.
+
+    Make no deep scrutiny
+    Into her mutiny
+    Rash and undutiful:
+    Past all dishonor,
+    Death has left on her
+    Only the beautiful.
+
+    Still, for all slips of hers,
+    One of Eve's family,--
+    Wipe those poor lips of hers
+    Oozing so clammily.
+
+    Loop up her tresses
+    Escaped from the comb,--
+    Her fair auburn tresses;
+    Whilst wonderment guesses
+    Where was her home?
+
+    Who was her father?
+    Who was her mother?
+    Had she a sister?
+    Had she a brother?
+    Or was there a dearer one
+    Still, and a nearer one
+    Yet, than all other?
+
+    Alas! for the rarity
+    Of Christian charity
+    Under the sun!
+    Oh! it was pitiful!
+    Near a whole city full,
+    Home she had none.
+
+    Sisterly, brotherly,
+    Fatherly, motherly
+    Feelings had changed:
+    Love, by harsh evidence,
+    Thrown from its eminence;
+    Even God's providence
+    Seeming estranged.
+
+    Where the lamps quiver
+    So far in the river,
+    With many a light
+    From window and casement,
+    From garret to basement,
+    She stood, with amazement,
+    Houseless by night.
+
+    The bleak wind of March
+    Made her tremble and shiver;
+    But not the dark arch,
+    Or the black flowing river:
+    Mad from life's history,
+    Glad to death's mystery,
+    Swift to be hurl'd--
+    Anywhere, anywhere
+    Out of the world!
+
+    In she plunged boldly,--
+    No matter how coldly
+    The dark river ran,--
+    Over the brink of it,
+    Picture it,--think of it,
+    Dissolute Man!
+    Lave in it, drink of it,
+    Then, if you can!
+
+    Take her up tenderly,
+    Lift her with care;
+    Fashion'd so slenderly,
+    Young, and so fair!
+
+    Ere her limbs frigidly
+    Stiffen too rigidly,
+    Decently,--kindly,--
+    Smooth and compose them;
+    And her eyes, close them,
+    Staring so blindly!
+
+    Dreadfully staring
+    Through muddy impurity,
+    As when with the daring
+    Last look of despairing
+    Fix'd on futurity.
+
+    Perishing gloomily,
+    Spurr'd by contumely,
+    Cold inhumanity,
+    Burning insanity,
+    Into her rest.--
+    Cross her hands humbly,
+    As if praying dumbly,
+    Over her breast!
+
+    Owning her weakness,
+    Her evil behavior,
+    And leaving, with meekness,
+    Her sins to her Saviour!
+
+
+
+
+XLVII. A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON.
+
+AGED THREE YEARS AND FIVE MONTHS.
+
+THOMAS HOOD.
+
+
+          Thou happy, happy elf!
+    (But stop,--first let me kiss away that tear)--
+          Thou tiny image of myself!
+    (My love, he's poking peas into his ear!)
+          Thou merry, laughing sprite!
+          With spirits feather-light,
+    Untouch'd by sorrow, and unsoil'd by sin--
+    (Good heavens! the child is swallowing a pin!)
+          Thou little tricksy Puck!
+    With antic toys so funnily bestuck,
+    Light as the singing bird that wings the air--
+    (The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!)
+          Thou darling of thy sire!
+    (Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore a-fire!)
+          Thou imp of mirth and joy!
+    In Love's dear chain so strong and bright a link,
+    Thou idol of thy parents--(Drat the boy!
+          There goes my ink!)
+
+          Thou cherub--but of earth;
+    Fit playfellow for Fays, by moonlight pale,
+          In harmless sport and mirth,
+    (That dog will bite him if he pulls its tail!)
+          Thou human humming-bee extracting honey
+    From ev'ry blossom in the world that blows,
+          Singing in Youth's Elysium ever sunny,
+    (Another tumble!--that's his precious nose!)
+          Thy father's pride and hope!
+    (He'll break the mirror with that skipping-rope!)
+    With pure heart newly stamp'd from Nature's mint--
+          (Where did he learn that squint?)
+
+          Thou young domestic dove!
+    (He'll have that jug off with another shove!)
+          Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest!
+          (Are those torn clothes his best?)
+          Little epitome of man!
+    (He'll climb upon the table, that's his plan!)
+    Touch'd with the beauteous tints of dawning life--
+          (He's got a knife!)
+
+          Thou enviable being!
+    No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,
+          Play on, play on,
+          My elfin John!
+          Toss the light ball--bestride the stick--
+    (I knew so many cakes would make him sick!)
+    With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down,
+    Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk,
+          With many a lamb-like frisk,
+    (He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown!)
+
+          Thou pretty opening rose!
+    (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!)
+    Balmy, and breathing music like the South,
+    (He really brings my heart into my mouth!)
+    Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star,--
+    (I wish that window had an iron bar!)
+    Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove,--
+          (I tell you what, my love,
+    I cannot write, unless he's sent above!)
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII. METAPHYSICS.
+
+THOMAS CHANDLER HALIBURTON.--1796-1865.
+
+_From_ TRAITS OF AMERICAN HUMOR.
+
+
+Old Doctor Sobersides, the minister of Pumpkinville, where I lived in my
+youth, was one of the metaphysical divines of the old school, and could
+cavil upon the ninth part of a hair about entities and quiddities,
+nominalism and realism, free-will and necessity, with which sort of
+learning he used to stuff his sermons and astound his learned hearers,
+the bumpkins. They never doubted that it was all true, but were apt to
+say with the old woman in Molière: "He speaks so well that I don't
+understand him a bit."
+
+I remember a conversation that happened at my grandfather's, in which
+the Doctor had some difficulty in making his metaphysics all "as clear
+as preaching." There was my grandfather; Uncle Tim, who was the greatest
+hand at raising onions in our part of the country, but "not knowing
+metaphysics, had no notion of the true reason of his not being sad"; my
+Aunt Judy Keturah Titterwell, who could knit stockings "like all
+possest," but could not syllogise; Malachi Muggs, our hired man that
+drove the oxen; and Isaac Thrasher, the district schoolmaster, who had
+dropped in to warm his fingers and get a drink of cider. Something was
+under discussion, and my grandfather could make nothing of it; but the
+Doctor said it was "metaphysically true."
+
+"Pray, Doctor," said Uncle Tim, "tell me something about metaphysics; I
+have often heard of that science, but never for my life could find out
+what it was."
+
+"Metaphysics," said the Doctor, "is the science of abstraction."
+
+"I'm no wiser for that explanation," said Uncle Tim.
+
+"It treats," said the Doctor, "of matters most profound and sublime, a
+little difficult perhaps for a common intellect or an unschooled
+capacity to fathom, but not the less important on that account, to all
+living beings."
+
+"What does it teach?" asked the Schoolmaster.
+
+"It is not applied so much to the operation of teaching," answered the
+Doctor, "as to that of inquiring; and the chief inquiry is, whether
+things are, or whether they are not."
+
+"I don't understand the question," said Uncle Tim, taking the pipe out
+of his mouth.
+
+"For example, whether this earth on which we tread," said the Doctor,
+giving a heavy stamp on the floor, and setting his foot on the cat's
+tail, "whether the earth does really exist, or whether it does not
+exist."
+
+"That is a point of considerable consequence to settle," said my
+grandfather.
+
+"Especially," added the schoolmaster, "to the holders of real estate."
+
+"Now the earth," continued the Doctor, "may exist--"
+
+"Why, who ever doubted that?" asked Uncle Tim.
+
+"A great many men," said the Doctor, "and some very learned ones."
+
+Uncle Tim stared a moment, and then began to fill his pipe, whistling
+the tune of "Heigh! Betty Martin," while the Doctor went on:
+
+"The earth, I say, may exist, although Bishop Berkeley has proved beyond
+all possible gainsaying or denial, that it does not exist. The case is
+clear; the only difficulty is, to know whether we shall believe it or
+not."
+
+"And how," asked Uncle Tim, "is all this to be found out?"
+
+"By digging down to the first principles," answered the Doctor.
+
+"Ay," interrupted Malachi, "there is nothing equal to the spade and
+pickaxe."
+
+"That is true," said my grandfather, going on in Malachi's way, "'tis by
+digging for the foundation, that we shall find out whether the world
+exists or not; for, if we dig to the bottom of the earth and find the
+foundation--why then we are sure of it. But if we find no foundation, it
+is clear that the world stands upon nothing, or, in other words, that it
+does not stand at all; therefore, it stands to reason--"
+
+"I beg your pardon," interrupted the Doctor, "but you totally mistake
+me; I used the word digging metaphorically, meaning the profoundest
+cogitation and research into the nature of things. That is the way in
+which we may ascertain whether things are, or whether they are not."
+
+"But if a man can't believe his eyes," said Uncle Tim, "what signifies
+talking about it?"
+
+"Our eyes," said the Doctor, "are nothing at all but the inlets of
+sensation, and when we see a thing, all we are aware of is, that we have
+a sensation of it: we are not aware that the thing exists. We are sure
+of nothing that we see with our eyes."
+
+"Not without spectacles," said Aunt Judy.
+
+"Plato, for instance, maintains that the sensation of any object is
+produced by a perpetual succession of copies, images, or counterfeits,
+streaming off from the object to the organ of sensation. Descartes, too,
+has explained the matter upon the principle of whirligigs."
+
+"But does the world exist?" asked the Schoolmaster.
+
+"A good deal may be said on both sides," replied the Doctor, "though the
+ablest heads are for non-existence."
+
+"In common cases," said Uncle Tim, "those who utter nonsense are
+considered blockheads."
+
+"But in metaphysics," said the Doctor, "the case is different."
+
+"Now all this is hocus-pocus to me," said Aunt Judy, suspending her
+knitting-work, and scratching her forehead with one of the needles, "I
+don't understand a bit more of the business than I did at first."
+
+"I'll be bound there is many a learned professor," said Uncle Tim,
+"could say the same after spinning a long yarn of metaphysics."
+
+The Doctor did not admire this gibe at his favorite science.
+
+"That is as the case may be," said he; "this thing or that thing may be
+dubious, but what then? Doubt is the beginning of wisdom."
+
+"No doubt of that," said my grandfather, beginning to poke the fire,
+"and when a man has got through his doubting, what does he begin to
+build up in the metaphysical way?"
+
+"Why, he begins by taking something for granted," said the Doctor.
+
+"But is that a sure way of going to work?"
+
+"'Tis the only thing he can do," replied the Doctor, after a pause, and
+rubbing his forehead as if he was not altogether satisfied that his
+foundation was a solid one. My grandfather might have posed him with
+another question, but he poked the fire and let him go on.
+
+"Metaphysics, to speak exactly----"
+
+"Ah," interrupted the Schoolmaster, "bring it down to vulgar fractions,
+and then we shall understand it."
+
+"'Tis the consideration of immateriality, or the mere spirit and essence
+of things."
+
+"Come, come," said Aunt Judy, taking a pinch of snuff, "now I see into
+it."
+
+"Thus, man is considered, not in his corporeality, but in his essence or
+capability of being; for a man, metaphysically, or to metaphysical
+purposes, hath two natures, that of spirituality, and that of
+corporeality, which may be considered separate."
+
+"What man?" asked Uncle Tim.
+
+"Why, any man; Malachi there, for example; I may consider him as Malachi
+spiritual, or Malachi corporeal."
+
+"That is true," said Malachi, "for when I was in the militia they made
+me a sixteenth corporal, and I carried grog to the drummer."
+
+"That is another affair," said the Doctor in continuation; "we speak of
+man in his essence; we speak, also, of the essence of locality, the
+essence of duration--"
+
+"And essence of peppermint," said Aunt Judy.
+
+"Pooh!" said the Doctor, "the essence I mean is quite a different
+essence."
+
+"Something too fine to be dribbled through the worm of a still," said my
+grandfather.
+
+"Then I am all in the dark again," rejoined Aunt Judy.
+
+"By the spirit and essence of things I mean things in the abstract."
+
+"And what becomes of a thing when it goes into the abstract?" asked
+Uncle Tim.
+
+"Why, it becomes an abstraction."
+
+"There we are again," said Uncle Tim; "but what on earth is an
+abstraction?"
+
+"It is a thing that has no matter: that is, it cannot be felt, seen,
+heard, smelt, or tasted; it has no substance or solidity; it is neither
+large nor small, hot nor cold, long nor short."
+
+"Then what is the long and short of it?" asked the Schoolmaster.
+
+"Abstraction," replied the Doctor.
+
+"Suppose, for instance," said Malachi, "that I had a pitchfork----"
+
+"Ay," said the Doctor, "consider a pitchfork in general; that is,
+neither this one nor that one, nor any particular one, but a pitchfork
+or pitchforks divested of their materiality--these are things in the
+abstract."
+
+"They are things in the hay-mow," said Malachi.
+
+"Pray," said Uncle Tim, "have there been many such things discovered?"
+
+"Discovered!" returned the Doctor, "why, all things, whether in heaven,
+or upon the earth, or in the waters under the earth, whether small or
+great, visible or invisible, animate or inanimate; whether the eye can
+see, or the ear can hear, or the nose can smell, or the fingers touch;
+finally, whatever exists or is imaginable in the nature of things, past,
+present, or to come, all may be abstractions."
+
+"Indeed!" said Uncle Tim, "pray, what do you make of the abstraction of
+a red cow?"
+
+"A red cow," said the Doctor, "considered metaphysically or as an
+abstraction, is an animal possessing neither hide nor horns, bones nor
+flesh, but is the mere type, eidolon, and fantastical semblance of these
+parts of a quadruped. It has a shape without any substance, and no color
+at all, for its redness is the mere counterfeit or imagination of such.
+As it lacks the positive, so is it also deficient in the accidental
+properties of all the animals in its tribe, for it has no locomotion,
+stability, or endurance, neither goes to pasture, gives milk, chews the
+cud, nor performs any other function of the horned beast, but is a mere
+creation of the brain, begotten by a freak of the fancy and nourished by
+a conceit of the imagination."
+
+"Pshaw!" exclaimed Aunt Judy. "All the metaphysics under the sun
+wouldn't make a pound of butter!"
+
+"That's a fact," said Uncle Tim.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _There is no great and no small
+    To the Soul that maketh all:
+    And where it cometh, all things are:--
+    And it cometh everywhere._
+
+        EMERSON.
+
+
+
+
+XLIX. INDIAN SUMMER.[J]
+
+SAMUEL LOVER.--1797-1868.
+
+
+    When summer's verdant beauty flies,
+    And autumn glows with richer dyes,
+    A softer charm beyond them lies--
+        It is the Indian summer.
+    Ere winter's snows and winter's breeze
+    Bereave of beauty all the trees,
+    The balmy spring renewal sees
+        In the sweet Indian summer.
+
+    And thus, dear love, if early years
+    Have drown'd the germ of joy in tears,
+    A later gleam of hope appears--
+        Just like the Indian summer:
+    And ere the snows of age descend,
+    O trust me, dear one, changeless friend,
+    Our falling years may brightly end--
+        Just like the Indian summer.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[J] The brief period which succeeds the autumnal close, called the
+"Indian Summer,"--a reflex, as it were, of the early portion of the
+year--strikes a stranger in America as peculiarly beautiful, and
+quite charmed me.--LOVER.
+
+
+
+
+L. TO HELEN.[K]
+
+JULY 7, 1839.
+
+WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.--1802-1839.
+
+    Dearest, I did not dream, four years ago,
+      When through your veil I saw your bright tear shine,
+    Caught your clear whisper, exquisitely low,
+      And felt your soft hand tremble into mine,
+
+    That in so brief--so very brief a space,
+      He, who in love both clouds and cheers our life,
+    Would lay on you, so full of light, joy, grace,
+      The darker, sadder duties of the wife,--
+    Doubts, fears, and frequent toil, and constant care
+      For this poor frame, by sickness sore bested;
+    The daily tendance on the fractious chair,
+      The nightly vigil by the feverish bed.
+
+    Yet not unwelcom'd doth this morn arise,
+      Though with more gladsome beams it might have shone:
+    Strength of these weak hands, light of these dim eyes,
+      In sickness, as in health,--bless you, My Own!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[K] Praed died on the 15th of July.
+
+
+
+
+LI. HORATIUS.[L]
+
+A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX.
+
+LORD MACAULAY.--1800-1859.
+
+
+    Lars Porsena of Clusium by the Nine Gods he swore
+    That the great house of Tarquin should suffer wrong no more.
+    By the Nine Gods he swore it, and named a trysting day,
+    And bade his messengers ride forth, east and west and south
+              and north,
+      To summon his array.
+
+    East and west and south and north the messengers ride fast,
+    And tower and town and cottage have heard the trumpet's blast.
+    Shame on the false Etruscan who lingers in his home,
+    When Porsena of Clusium is on the march for Rome.
+
+    The horsemen and the footmen are pouring in amain
+    From many a stately market-place; from many a fruitful plain;
+    From many a lonely hamlet, which, hid by beech and pine,
+    Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest of purple Apennine;
+    From lordly Volaterræ, where scowls the far-famed hold
+    Piled by the hands of giants for godlike kings of old;
+    From seagirt Populonia, whose sentinels descry
+    Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops fringing the southern sky;
+    From the proud mart of Pisæ, queen of the western waves,
+    Where ride Massilia's triremes heavy with fair-hair'd slaves;
+    From where sweet Clanis wanders through corn and vines and
+              flowers;
+    From where Cortona lifts to heaven her diadem of towers.
+
+    Tall are the oaks whose acorns drop in dark Auser's rill;
+    Fat are the stags that champ the boughs of the Ciminian hill;
+    Beyond all streams Clitumnus is to the herdsman dear;
+    Best of all pools the fowler loves the great Volsinian mere.
+    But now no stroke of woodman is heard by Auser's rill;
+    No hunter tracks the stag's green path up the Ciminian hill;
+    Unwatch'd along Clitumnus grazes the milk-white steer;
+    Unharm'd the waterfowl may dip in the Volsinian mere.
+    The harvests of Arretium, this year, old men shall reap;
+    This year, young boys in Umbro shall plunge the struggling sheep;
+    And in the vats of Luna, this year, the must shall foam
+    Round the white feet of laughing girls whose sires have march'd
+              to Rome.
+
+    There be thirty chosen prophets, the wisest of the land,
+    Who alway by Lars Porsena both morn and evening stand:
+    Evening and morn the Thirty have turn'd the verses o'er,
+    Traced from the right on linen white by mighty seers of yore.
+    And with one voice the Thirty have their glad answer given:
+    "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; go forth, belov'd of heaven.
+    Go, and return in glory to Clusium's royal dome;
+    And hang round Nurscia's altars the golden shields of Rome."
+
+    And now hath every city sent up her tale of men:
+    The foot are fourscore thousand, the horse are thousands ten.
+    Before the gates of Sutrium is met the great array.
+    A proud man was Lars Porsena upon the trysting day.
+    For all the Etruscan armies were ranged beneath his eye,
+    And many a banish'd Roman, and many a stout ally;
+    And with a mighty following to join the muster came
+    The Tusculan Mamilius, prince of the Latian name.
+
+    But by the yellow Tiber was tumult and affright:
+    From all the spacious champaign to Rome men took their flight.
+    A mile around the city, the throng stopp'd up the ways;
+    A fearful sight it was to see through two long nights and days.
+    For aged folks on crutches, and women great with child,
+    And mothers sobbing over babes that clung to them and smiled,
+    And sick men borne in litters high on the necks of slaves,
+    And troops of sun-burn'd husbandmen with reaping-hooks and staves,
+    And droves of mules and asses laden with skins of wine,
+    And endless flocks of goats and sheep, and endless herds of kine,
+    And endless trains of wagons that creak'd beneath the weight
+    Of corn-sacks and of household goods, choked every roaring gate.
+
+    Now, from the rock Tarpeian, could the wan burghers spy
+    The line of blazing villages red in the midnight sky.
+    The Fathers of the City, they sat all night and day,
+    For every hour some horseman came with tidings of dismay.
+    To eastward and to westward have spread the Tuscan bands;
+    Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote in Crustumerium stands.
+    Verbenna down to Ostia hath wasted all the plain;
+    Astur hath storm'd Janiculum, and the stout guards are slain.
+    I wis, in all the Senate, there was no heart so bold,
+    But sore it ached, and fast it beat, when that ill news was told.
+    Forthwith up rose the Consul, up rose the Fathers all;
+    In haste they girded up their gowns, and hied them to the wall.
+    They held a council standing, before the River-Gate;
+    Short time was there, ye well may guess, for musing or debate.
+    Out spake the Consul roundly: "The bridge must straight go down;
+    For, since Janiculum is lost, nought else can save the town."
+
+    Just then a scout came flying, all wild with haste and fear:
+    "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul: Lars Porsena is here."
+    On the low hills to westward the Consul fix'd his eye,
+    And saw the swarthy storm of dust rise fast along the sky.
+    And nearer fast and nearer doth the red whirlwind come;
+    And louder still and still more loud, from underneath that rolling
+              cloud,
+    Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, the trampling, and the hum.
+    And plainly and more plainly now through the gloom appears,
+    Far to left and far to right, in broken gleams of dark-blue light,
+    The long array of helmets bright, the long array of spears.
+    And plainly and more plainly above that glimmering line,
+    Now might ye see the banners of twelve fair cities shine;
+    But the banner of proud Clusium was highest of them all,
+    The terror of the Umbrian, the terror of the Gaul.
+    And plainly and more plainly now might the burghers know,
+    By port and vest, by horse and crest, each warlike Lucumo.
+    There Cilnius of Arretium on his fleet roan was seen;
+    And Astur of the four-fold shield, girt with the brand none else
+              may wield,
+    Tolumnius with the belt of gold, and dark Verbenna from the hold
+      By reedy Thrasymene.
+
+    Fast by the royal standard, o'erlooking all the war,
+    Lars Porsena of Clusium sat in his ivory car.
+    By the right wheel rode Mamilius, prince of the Latian name;
+    And by the left false Sextus, that wrought the deed of shame.
+    But when the face of Sextus was seen among the foes,
+    A yell that rent the firmament from all the town arose.
+    On the house-tops was no woman but spat towards him and hiss'd,
+    No child but scream'd out curses, and shook its little fist.
+    But the Consul's brow was sad, and the Consul's speech was low,
+    And darkly look'd he at the wall, and darkly at the foe.
+    "Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down;
+    And if they once may win the bridge, what hope to save the town?"
+
+    Then out spake brave Horatius, the Captain of the Gate:
+    "To every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late.
+    And how can man die better than facing fearful odds,
+    For the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods,
+    And for the tender mother who dandled him to rest,
+    And for the wife who nurses his baby at her breast,
+    And for the holy maidens who feed the eternal flame,
+    To save them from false Sextus that wrought the deed of shame?
+    Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may;
+    I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe in play.
+    In yon strait path a thousand may well be stopp'd by three.
+    Now who will stand on either hand, and keep the bridge with me?"
+
+    Then out spake Spurius Lartius; a Ramnian proud was he:
+    "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with thee."
+    And out spake strong Herminius; of Titian blood was he:
+    "I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee."
+
+    "Horatius," quoth the Consul, "as thou sayest, so let it be."
+    And straight against that great array forth went the dauntless
+              Three.
+    For Romans in Rome's quarrel spared neither land nor gold,
+    Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, in the brave days of old.
+    Then none was for a party; then all were for the state;
+    Then the great man help'd the poor, and the poor man lov'd
+              the great:
+    Then lands were fairly portion'd; then spoils were fairly sold:
+    The Romans were like brothers in the brave days of old.
+    Now Roman is to Roman more hateful than a foe,
+    And the Tribunes beard the high, and the Fathers grind the low.
+    As we wax hot in faction, in battle we wax cold:
+    Wherefore men fight not as they fought in the brave days of old.
+
+    Now while the Three were tightening their harness on their backs,
+    The Consul was the foremost man to take in hand an axe:
+    And Fathers mix'd with Commons seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
+    And smote upon the planks above, and loosed the props below.
+
+    Meanwhile the Tuscan army, right glorious to behold,
+    Came flashing back the noonday light, rank behind rank, like
+              surges bright
+        Of a broad sea of gold.
+    Four hundred trumpets sounded a peal of warlike glee,
+    As that great host, with measured tread, and spears advanced,
+              and ensigns spread,
+    Roll'd slowly towards the bridge's head, where stood the dauntless
+              Three.
+
+    The Three stood calm and silent, and look'd upon the foes,
+    And a great shout of laughter from all the vanguard rose:
+    And forth three chiefs came spurring before that deep array;
+    To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, and lifted high their
+              shields, and flew
+      To win the narrow way;
+    Aunus from green Tifernum, lord of the Hill of Vines;
+    And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves sicken in Ilva's mines;
+    And Picus, long to Clusium vassal in peace and war,
+    Who led to fight his Umbrian powers from that gray crag where,
+              girt with towers,
+    The fortress of Nequinum lowers o'er the pale waves of Nar.
+
+    Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus into the stream beneath:
+    Herminius struck at Seius, and clove him to the teeth:
+    At Picus brave Horatius darted one fiery thrust;
+    And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms clash'd in the bloody dust.
+
+    Then Ocnus of Falerii rush'd on the Roman Three;
+    And Lausulus of Urgo, the rover of the sea;
+    And Aruns of Volsinium, who slew the great wild boar,
+    The great wild boar that had his den amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen,
+    And wasted fields, and slaughter'd men, along Albinia's shore.
+
+    Herminius smote down Aruns: Lartius laid Ocnus low:
+    Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow.
+    "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate! no more, aghast and pale,
+    From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark the track of thy destroying
+              bark.
+    No more Campania's hinds shall fly to woods and caverns when
+              they spy.
+      Thy thrice accursèd sail."
+
+    But now no sound of laughter was heard among the foes.
+    A wild and wrathful clamor from all the vanguard rose.
+    Six spears' lengths from the entrance halted that deep array,
+    And for a space no man came forth to win the narrow way.
+
+    But hark! the cry is Astur: and lo! the ranks divide;
+    And the great Lord of Luna comes with his stately stride.
+    Upon his ample shoulders clangs loud the four-fold shield,
+    And in his hand he shakes the brand which none but he can wield.
+
+    He smiled on those bold Romans a smile serene and high;
+    He eyed the flinching Tuscans, and scorn was in his eye.
+    Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter stand savagely at bay:
+    But will ye dare to follow, if Astur clears the way?"
+    Then, whirling up his broadsword with both hands to the height,
+    He rush'd against Horatius, and smote with all his might.
+    With shield and blade Horatius right deftly turn'd the blow.
+    The blow, though turn'd, came yet too nigh; it miss'd his helm,
+              but gash'd his thigh:
+    The Tuscans raised a joyful cry to see the red blood flow.
+    He reel'd, and on Herminius he lean'd one breathing-space;
+    Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds, sprang right at Astur's face.
+    Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, so fierce a thrust he sped,
+    The good sword stood a hand-breadth out behind the Tuscan's head.
+    And the great Lord of Luna fell at that deadly stroke,
+    As falls on Mount Alvernus a thunder-smitten oak.
+    Far o'er the crashing forest the giant arms lie spread;
+    And the pale augurs, muttering low, gaze on the blasted head.
+    On Astur's throat Horatius right firmly press'd his heel,
+    And thrice and four times tugg'd amain, ere he wrench'd out the
+              steel.
+    "And see," he cried, "the welcome, fair guests, that waits you here!
+    What noble Lucumo comes next to taste our Roman cheer?"
+
+    But at his haughty challenge a sullen murmur ran,
+    Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, along that glittering van.
+    There lack'd not men of prowess, nor men of lordly race;
+    For all Etruria's noblest were round the fatal place.
+    But all Etruria's noblest felt their hearts sink to see
+    On the earth the bloody corpses, in the path the dauntless Three:
+    And, from the ghastly entrance where those bold Romans stood,
+    All shrank, like boys who unaware, ranging the woods to start a hare,
+    Come to the mouth of the dark lair where, growling low, a fierce old
+              bear
+      Lies amidst bones and blood.
+    Was none who would be foremost to lead such dire attack:
+    But those behind cried "Forward!" and those before cried "Back!"
+    And backward now and forward wavers the deep array;
+    And on the tossing sea of steel, to and fro the standards reel;
+    And the victorious trumpet-peal dies fitfully away.
+
+    Yet one man for one moment stood out before the crowd;
+    Well known was he to all the Three, and they gave him greeting loud.
+    "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! now welcome to thy home!
+    Why dost thou stay, and turn away? here lies the road to Rome."
+    Thrice look'd he at the city; thrice look'd he at the dead;
+    And thrice came on in fury, and thrice turn'd back in dread;
+    And, white with fear and hatred, scowl'd at the narrow way
+    Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, the bravest Tuscans lay.
+
+    But meanwhile axe and lever have manfully been plied;
+    And now the bridge hangs tottering above the boiling tide.
+    "Come back, come back, Horatius!" loud cried the Fathers all.
+    "Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! back, ere the ruin fall!"
+    Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back:
+    And, as they pass'd, beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack.
+    But when they turn'd their faces, and on the farther shore
+    Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have cross'd once more.
+    But with a crash like thunder fell every loosen'd beam,
+    And, like a dam, the mighty wreck lay right athwart the stream:
+    And a long shout of triumph rose from the walls of Rome,
+    As to the highest turret-tops was splash'd the yellow foam.
+    And, like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rein,
+    The furious river struggled hard, and toss'd his tawny mane,
+    And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free,
+    And whirling down, in fierce career, battlement, and plank, and
+              pier,
+      Rush'd headlong to the sea.
+
+    Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind;
+    Thrice thirty thousand foes before, and the broad flood behind.
+    "Down with him!" cried false Sextus, with a smile on his pale face.
+    "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "now yield thee to our grace."
+    Round turn'd he, as not deigning those craven ranks to see;
+    Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, to Sextus nought spake he;
+    But he saw on Palatinus the white porch of his home;
+    And he spake to the noble river that rolls by the towers of Rome.
+    "O Tiber! father Tiber! to whom the Romans pray,
+    A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day!"
+    So he spake, and speaking sheathed the good sword by his side,
+    And with his harness on his back plunged headlong in the tide.
+
+    No sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank;
+    But friends and foes in dumb surprise, with parted lips and
+              straining eyes,
+      Stood gazing where he sank;
+    And when above the surges they saw his crest appear,
+    All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, and even the ranks of Tuscany
+      Could scarce forbear to cheer.
+    But fiercely ran the current, swollen high by months of rain:
+    And fast his blood was flowing, and he was sore in pain,
+    And heavy with his armor, and spent with changing blows:
+    And oft they thought him sinking, but still again he rose.
+    Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case,
+    Struggle through such a raging flood safe to the landing-place:
+    But his limbs were borne up bravely by the brave heart within,
+    And our good father Tiber bare bravely up his chin.
+
+    "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus; "will not the villain drown?
+    But for this stay, ere close of day we should have sack'd the town!"
+    "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "and bring him safe to shore;
+    For such a gallant feat of arms was never seen before."
+    And now he feels the bottom; now on dry earth he stands;
+    Now round him throng the Fathers to press his gory hands;
+    And now, with shouts and clapping, and noise of weeping loud,
+    He enters through the River-Gate, borne by the joyous crowd.
+
+    They gave him of the corn-land, that was of public right,
+    As much as two strong oxen could plough from morn till night;
+    And they made a molten image, and set it up on high,
+    And there it stands unto this day to witness if I lie.
+    It stands in the Comitium, plain for all folk to see;
+    Horatius in his harness, halting upon one knee:
+    And underneath is written, in letters all of gold,
+    How valiantly he kept the bridge in the brave days of old.
+
+    And still his name sounds stirring unto the men of Rome,
+    As the trumpet-blast that cries to them to charge the Volscian home;
+    And wives still pray to Juno for boys with hearts as bold
+    As his who kept the bridge so well in the brave days of old.
+    And in the nights of winter, when the cold north-winds blow,
+    And the long howling of the wolves is heard amidst the snow;
+    When round the lonely cottage roars loud the tempest's din,
+    And the good logs of Algidus roar louder yet within;
+    When the oldest cask is open'd, and the largest lamp is lit;
+    When the chestnuts glow in the embers, and the kid turns on the
+              spit;
+    When young and old in circle around the firebrands close;
+    When the girls are weaving baskets, and the lads are shaping bows;
+    When the goodman mends his armor, and trims his helmet's plume;
+    When the goodwife's shuttle merrily goes flashing through the loom;
+    With weeping and with laughter still is the story told,
+    How well Horatius kept the bridge in the brave days of old.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[L] For the sake of space a change has been made from the usual form
+of the poem.
+
+
+
+
+LII. THE RAVEN.
+
+EDGAR ALLAN POE.--1809-1849.
+
+
+    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder'd, weak and weary,
+    Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,--
+    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
+    As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber-door.
+    "'Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, "tapping at my chamber-door,--
+              Only this, and nothing more."
+
+    Ah! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
+    And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
+    Eagerly I wish'd the morrow: vainly I had sought to borrow
+    From my books surcease of sorrow,--sorrow for the lost Lenore;
+    For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
+              Nameless here forevermore.
+
+    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
+    Thrill'd me--fill'd me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
+    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
+    "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber-door,--
+    Some late visitor, entreating entrance at my chamber-door;
+              This it is, and nothing more."
+
+    Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer,
+    "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
+    But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
+    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber-door,
+    That I scarce was sure I heard you";--here I open'd wide the door;--
+              Darkness there, and nothing more.
+
+    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering,
+        fearing,
+    Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
+    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
+    And the only word there spoken was the whisper'd word "Lenore?"
+    This I whisper'd, and an echo murmur'd back the word "Lenore!"
+              Merely this, and nothing more.
+
+    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
+    Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before.
+    "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window-lattice;
+    Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore,--
+    Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore:--
+              'Tis the wind, and nothing more."
+
+    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
+    In there stepp'd a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
+    Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopp'd or stay'd he,
+    But, with mien of lord or lady, perch'd above my chamber-door;
+    Perch'd upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber-door;--
+              Perch'd, and sat, and nothing more.
+
+    Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
+    By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
+    "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure
+        no craven,
+    Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly
+        shore;--
+    Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    Much I marvell'd this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
+    Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
+    For we can not help agreeing that no living human being
+    Ever yet was bless'd with seeing bird above his chamber-door,--
+    Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber-door,
+              With such name as "Nevermore."
+
+    But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
+    That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
+    Nothing further then he utter'd, not a feather then he flutter'd,
+    Till I scarcely more than mutter'd, "Other friends have flown
+        before:
+    On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
+              Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
+
+    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
+    "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
+    Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful Disaster
+    Follow'd fast, and follow'd faster, till his songs one burden
+        bore,--
+    Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore,
+              Of--'Never--Nevermore.'"
+
+    But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
+    Straight I wheel'd a cushion'd seat in front of bird, and bust,
+        and door;
+    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
+    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
+    What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore--
+              Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
+
+    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
+    To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burn'd into my bosom's core:
+    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
+    On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er;
+    But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
+              _She_ shall press--ah! nevermore.
+
+    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
+    Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
+    "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath
+        sent thee--
+    Respite, respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
+    Quaff, Oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
+    Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest toss'd thee here ashore,
+    Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted,
+    On this home by Horror haunted,--tell me truly, I implore,
+    Is there--_is_ there balm in Gilead? tell me--tell me, I implore!"
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
+    By that heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore,
+    Tell this soul, with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
+    It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore,--
+    Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore."
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shriek'd,
+        upstarting,--
+    "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
+    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
+    Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door!
+    Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
+        door!"
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
+    On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-door;
+    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
+    And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
+        floor:
+    And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
+              Shall be lifted--NEVERMORE!
+
+
+
+
+LIII. DAVID SWAN--A FANTASY.
+
+NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.--1804-1864.
+
+_From_ "TWICE-TOLD TALES."
+
+
+We can be but partially acquainted even with the events which actually
+influence our course through life, and our final destiny. There are
+innumerable other events, if such they may be called, which come close
+upon us, yet pass away without actual results, or even betraying their
+near approach by the reflection of any light or shadow across our minds.
+Could we know all the vicissitudes of our fortunes, life would be too
+full of hope and fear, exultation or disappointment, to afford us a
+single hour of true serenity. This idea may be illustrated by a page
+from the secret history of David Swan.
+
+We have nothing to do with David until we find him, at the age of
+twenty, on the high road from his native place to the city of Boston,
+where his uncle, a small dealer in the grocery line, was to take him
+behind the counter. Be it enough to say, that he was a native of New
+Hampshire, born of respectable parents, and had received an ordinary
+school education, with a classic finish by a year at Gilmanton Academy.
+After journeying on foot from sunrise till nearly noon of a summer's
+day, his weariness and the increasing heat determined him to sit down in
+the first convenient shade, and await the coming up of the stage-coach.
+As if planted on purpose for him, there soon appeared a little tuft of
+maples, with a delightful recess in the midst, and such a fresh bubbling
+spring, that it seemed never to have sparkled for any wayfarer but David
+Swan. Virgin or not, he kissed it with his thirsty lips, and then flung
+himself along the brink, pillowing his head upon some shirts and a pair
+of pantaloons, tied up in a striped cotton handkerchief. The sunbeams
+could not reach him; the dust did not yet rise from the road, after the
+heavy rain of yesterday; and his grassy lair suited the young man better
+than a bed of down. The spring murmured drowsily beside him; the
+branches waved dreamily across the blue sky overhead; and a deep sleep,
+perchance hiding dreams within its depths, fell upon David Swan. But we
+are to relate events which he did not dream of.
+
+While he lay sound asleep in the shade, other people were wide-awake,
+and passed to an fro, afoot, on horseback, and in all sorts of vehicles,
+along the sunny road by his bed-chamber. Some looked neither to the
+right hand nor to the left, and knew not that he was there; some merely
+glanced that way, without admitting the slumberer among their busy
+thoughts; some laughed to see how soundly he slept; and several, whose
+hearts were brimming full of scorn, ejected their venomous superfluity
+upon David Swan. A middle-aged widow, when nobody else was near, thrust
+her head a little way into the recess, and vowed that the young fellow
+looked charming in his sleep. A temperance lecturer saw him, and wrought
+poor David into the texture of his evening's discourse, as an awful
+instance of dead-drunkenness by the road-side. But censure, praise,
+merriment, scorn, and indifference, were all one, or rather all nothing,
+to David Swan.
+
+He had slept only a few moments when a brown carriage, drawn by a
+handsome pair of horses, bowled easily along, and was brought to a
+stand-still nearly in front of David's resting-place. A linch-pin had
+fallen out, and permitted one of the wheels to slide off. The damage was
+slight, and occasioned merely a momentary alarm to an elderly merchant
+and his wife, who were returning to Boston in the carriage. While the
+coachman and a servant were replacing the wheel, the lady and gentleman
+sheltered themselves beneath the maple-trees, and there espied the
+bubbling fountain, and David Swan asleep beside it. Impressed with the
+awe which the humblest sleeper usually sheds around him, the merchant
+trod as lightly as the gout would allow; and his spouse took good heed
+not to rustle her silk gown, lest David should start up, all of a
+sudden.
+
+"How soundly he sleeps!" whispered the old gentleman. "From what a depth
+he draws that easy breath! Such sleep as that, brought on without an
+opiate, would be worth more to me than half my income, for it would
+suppose health and an untroubled mind."
+
+"And youth besides," said the lady. "Healthy and quiet age does not
+sleep thus. Our slumber is no more like his than our wakefulness."
+
+The longer they looked, the more did this elderly couple feel interested
+in the unknown youth, to whom the wayside and the maple shade were as a
+secret chamber, with the rich gloom of damask curtains brooding over
+him. Perceiving that a stray sunbeam glimmered down upon his face, the
+lady contrived to twist a branch aside, so as to intercept it. And
+having done this little act of kindness, she began to feel like a mother
+to him.
+
+"Providence seems to have laid him here," whispered she to her husband,
+"and to have brought us hither to find him, after our disappointment in
+our cousin's son. Methinks I can see a likeness to our departed Henry.
+Shall we waken him?"
+
+"To what purpose?" said the merchant, hesitating. "We know nothing of
+the youth's character."
+
+"That open countenance!" replied his wife, in the same hushed voice, yet
+earnestly. "This innocent sleep!"
+
+While these whispers were passing, the sleeper's heart did not throb,
+nor his breath become agitated, nor his features betray the least token
+of interest. Yet Fortune was bending over him, just ready to let fall a
+burthen of gold. The old merchant had lost his only son, and had no heir
+to his wealth, except a distant relative, with whose conduct he was
+dissatisfied. In such cases, people sometimes do stranger things than to
+act the magician, and awaken a young man to splendor, who fell asleep in
+poverty.
+
+"Shall we not waken him?" repeated the lady, persuasively.
+
+"The coach is ready, sir," said the servant, behind.
+
+The old couple started, reddened, and hurried away, mutually wondering
+that they should ever have dreamed of doing anything so very ridiculous.
+The merchant threw himself back in the carriage, and occupied his mind
+with the plan of a magnificent asylum for unfortunate men of business.
+Meanwhile, David Swan enjoyed his nap.
+
+The carriage could not have gone above a mile or two, when a pretty
+young girl came along with a tripping pace, which showed precisely how
+her little heart was dancing in her bosom. Perhaps it was this merry
+kind of motion that caused--is there any harm in saying it?--her garter
+to slip its knot. Conscious that the silken girth, if silk it were, was
+relaxing its hold, she turned aside into the shelter of the maple-trees,
+and there found a young man asleep by the spring! Blushing as red as any
+rose, that she should have intruded into a gentleman's bed-chamber, and
+for such a purpose, too, she was about to make her escape on tiptoe. But
+there was peril near the sleeper. A monster of a bee had been wandering
+overhead--buzz, buzz, buzz--now among the leaves, now flashing through
+the strips of sunshine, and now lost in the dark shade, till finally he
+appeared to be settling on the eyelid of David Swan. The sting of a bee
+is sometimes deadly. As free-hearted as she was innocent, the girl
+attacked the intruder with her handkerchief, brushed him soundly, and
+drove him from the maple shade. How sweet a picture! This good deed
+accomplished, with quickened breath, and a deeper blush, she stole a
+glance at the youthful stranger, for whom she had been battling with a
+dragon in the air.
+
+"He is handsome!" thought she, and blushed redder yet.
+
+How could it be that no dream of bliss grew so strong within him, that,
+shattered by its very strength, it should part asunder, and allow him to
+perceive the girl among its phantoms? Why, at least, did no smile of
+welcome brighten upon his face? She was come, the maid whose soul,
+according to the old and beautiful idea, had been severed from his own,
+and whom, in all his vague but passionate desires, he yearned to meet.
+Her only could he love with a perfect love--him only could she receive
+into the depths of her heart--and now her image was faintly blushing in
+the fountain by his side; should it pass away, its happy lustre would
+never gleam upon his life again.
+
+"How sound he sleeps!" murmured the girl.
+
+She departed, but did not trip along the road so lightly as when she
+came.
+
+Now, this girl's father was a thriving country merchant in the
+neighborhood, and happened, at that identical time, to be looking out
+for just such a young man as David Swan. Had David formed a wayside
+acquaintance with the daughter, he would have become the father's clerk,
+and all else in natural succession. So here, again, had good
+fortune--the best of fortunes--stolen so near, that her garments brushed
+against him; and he knew nothing of the matter.
+
+The girl was hardly out of sight, when two men turned aside beneath the
+maple shade. Both had dark faces, set off by cloth caps, which were
+drawn down aslant over their brows. Their dresses were shabby, yet had a
+certain smartness. These were a couple of rascals, who got their living
+by whatever the devil sent them, and now, in the interim of other
+business, had staked the joint profits of their next piece of villainy
+on a game of cards, which was to have been decided here under the trees.
+But, finding David asleep by the spring, one of the rogues whispered to
+his fellow--
+
+"Hist!--Do you see that bundle under his head?"
+
+The other villain nodded, winked, and leered.
+
+"I'll bet you a horn of brandy," said the first, "that the chap has
+either a pocket-book or a snug little hoard of small change, stowed away
+amongst his shirts. And if not there, we shall find it in his
+pantaloons' pocket."
+
+"But how if he wakes?" said the other.
+
+His companion thrust aside his waistcoat, pointed to the handle of a
+dirk, and nodded.
+
+"So be it!" muttered the second villain.
+
+They approached the unconscious David, and, while one pointed the dagger
+towards his heart, the other began to search the bundle beneath his
+head. Their two faces, grim, wrinkled, and ghastly with guilt and fear,
+bent over their victim, looking horribly enough to be mistaken for
+fiends, should he suddenly awake. Nay, had the villains glanced aside
+into the spring, even they would hardly have known themselves, as
+reflected there. But David Swan had never worn a more tranquil aspect,
+even when asleep on his mother's breast.
+
+"I must take away the bundle," whispered one.
+
+"If he stirs, I'll strike," muttered the other.
+
+But, at this moment, a dog, scenting along the ground, came in beneath
+the maple-trees, and gazed alternately at each of these wicked men, and
+then at the quiet sleeper. He then lapped out of the fountain.
+
+"Pshaw!" said one villain. "We can do nothing now. The dog's master must
+be close behind."
+
+"Let's take a drink, and be off," said the other.
+
+The man with the dagger thrust back the weapon into his bosom, and drew
+forth a pocket-pistol, but not of that kind which kills by a single
+discharge. It was a flask of liquor, with a block-tin tumbler screwed
+upon the mouth. Each drank a comfortable dram, and left the spot, with
+so many jests, and such laughter at their unaccomplished wickedness,
+that they might be said to have gone on their way rejoicing. In a few
+hours they had forgotten the whole affair, nor once imagined that the
+recording angel had written down the crime of murder against their
+souls, in letters as durable as eternity. As for David Swan, he still
+slept quietly, neither conscious of the shadow of death when it hung
+over him, nor of the glow of renewed life when that shadow was
+withdrawn.
+
+He slept, but no longer so quietly as at first. An hour's repose had
+snatched from his elastic frame the weariness with which many hours of
+toil had burthened it. Now he stirred--now moved his lips, without a
+sound--now talked in an inward tone to the noonday spectres of his
+dream. But a noise of wheels came rattling louder and louder along the
+road, until it dashed through the dispersing mist of David's
+slumber--and there was the stage-coach. He started up, with all his
+ideas about him.
+
+"Hallo, driver! Take a passenger?" shouted he.
+
+"Room on top!" answered the driver.
+
+Up mounted David, and bowled away merrily towards Boston, without so
+much as a parting glance at that fountain of dreamlike vicissitude. He
+knew not that a phantom of Wealth had thrown a golden hue upon its
+waters, nor that one of Love had sighed softly to their murmur, nor that
+one of Death had threatened to crimson them with his blood--all, in the
+brief hour since he lay down to sleep. Sleeping or waking, we hear not
+the airy footsteps of the strange things that almost happen. Does it not
+argue a superintending Providence, that, while viewless and unexpected
+events thrust themselves continually athwart our path, there should
+still be regularity enough in mortal life, to render foresight even
+partially available?
+
+
+
+
+LIV. MY KATE.
+
+ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.--1809-1861.
+
+
+    She was not as pretty as women I know,
+    And yet all your best made of sunshine and snow
+    Drop to shade, melt to nought in the long-trodden ways,
+    While she's still remember'd on warm and cold days--
+              My Kate.
+
+    Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace;
+    You turn'd from the fairest to gaze on her face:
+    And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth,
+    You saw as distinctly her soul and her truth--
+              My Kate.
+
+    Such a blue inner light from her eyelids outbroke,
+    You look'd at her silence and fancied she spoke:
+    When she did, so peculiar yet soft was the tone,
+    Though the loudest spoke also, you heard her alone--
+              My Kate.
+
+    I doubt if she said to you much that could act
+    As a thought or suggestion: she did not attract
+    In the sense of the brilliant or wise: I infer
+    'Twas her thinking of others, made you think of her--
+              My Kate.
+
+    She never found fault with you, never implied
+    Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side
+    Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town
+    The children were gladder that pull'd at her gown--
+              My Kate.
+
+    None knelt at her feet confess'd lovers in thrall;
+    They knelt more to God than they used,--that was all;
+    If you praised her as charming, some ask'd what you meant,
+    But the charm of her presence was felt when she went--
+              My Kate.
+
+    The weak and the gentle, the ribald and rude,
+    She took as she found them, and did them all good:
+    It always was so with her: see what you have!
+    She has made the grass greener even here ... with her grave--
+              My Kate.
+
+    My dear one!--when thou wast alive with the rest,
+    I held thee the sweetest and lov'd thee the best:
+    And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy part
+    As thy smiles used to do for thyself, my sweet Heart--
+              My Kate?
+
+
+
+
+LV. A DEAD ROSE.
+
+MRS. BROWNING.
+
+
+        O Rose, who dares to name thee?
+    No longer roseate now, nor soft nor sweet,
+    But pale and hard and dry as stubble wheat,--
+      Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.
+
+        The breeze that used to blow thee
+    Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away
+    An odor up the lane to last all day,--
+      If breathing now, unsweeten'd would forego thee.
+
+        The sun that used to smite thee,
+    And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn
+    Till beam appear'd to bloom, and flower to burn,--
+      If shining now, with not a hue would light thee.
+
+        The dew that used to wet thee,
+    And, white first, grow incarnadined because
+    It lay upon thee where the crimson was,--
+      If dropping now, would darken where it met thee.
+
+        The fly that 'lit upon thee
+    To stretch the tendrils of its tiny feet
+    Along thy leafs pure edges after heat,--
+      If 'lighting now, would coldly overrun thee.
+
+        The bee that once did suck thee,
+    And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive,
+    And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,--
+      If passing now, would blindly overlook thee.
+
+        The heart doth recognize thee,
+    Alone, alone! the heart doth smell thee sweet,
+    Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete,
+      Perceiving all those changes that disguise thee.
+
+        Yes, and the heart doth owe thee
+    More love, dead rose, than to any roses bold
+    Which Julia wears at dances, smiling cold:--
+      Lie still upon this heart which breaks below thee!
+
+
+
+
+LVI. TO THE EVENING WIND.
+
+WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.--1794-1878.
+
+
+    Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou
+      That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,
+    Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow;
+      Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,
+    Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,
+      Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,
+    And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
+    To the scorch'd land, thou wanderer of the sea.
+
+    Nor I alone;--a thousand bosoms round
+      Inhale thee in the fulness of delight;
+    And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound
+      Livelier at coming of the wind of night;
+    And languishing to hear thy grateful sound,
+      Lies the vast inland stretch'd beyond the sight.
+    Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth,
+    God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!
+
+    Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest,
+      Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse
+    The wide old wood from his majestic rest,
+      Summoning from the innumerable boughs
+    The strange deep harmonies that haunt his breast;
+      Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows
+    The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,
+    And where the o'er-shadowing branches sweep the grass.
+
+    The faint old man shall lean his silver head
+      To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
+    And dry the moisten'd curls that overspread
+      His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;
+    And they who stand about the sick man's bed
+      Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,
+    And softly part his curtains to allow
+    Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.
+
+    Go,--but the circle of eternal change,
+      Which is the life of nature, shall restore,
+    With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,
+      Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more;
+    Sweet odors in the sea-air, sweet and strange,
+      Shall tell the homesick mariner of the shore;
+    And, listening to thy murmur, he shall dream
+    He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.
+
+
+
+
+LVII.--DEATH OF THE PROTECTOR.[M]
+
+THOMAS CARLYLE.--1795-1881.
+
+_From_ OLIVER CROMWELL'S LETTERS AND SPEECHES.
+
+
+And so we have now nothing more;--and Oliver has nothing more. His
+Speakings, and also his Actings, all his manifold Strugglings, more or
+less victorious, to utter the great God's-Message that was in him,--have
+here what we call ended. This Summer of 1658, likewise victorious after
+struggle, is his last in our World of Time. Thenceforth he enters the
+Eternities; and rests upon his arms _there_.
+
+Oliver's look was yet strong; and young for his years, which were
+Fifty-nine last April. The "Three-score and ten years," the Psalmist's
+limit, which probably was often in Oliver's thoughts and in those of
+others there, might have been anticipated for him: Ten Years more of
+Life;--which, we may compute, would have given another History to all
+the Centuries of England. But it was not to be so, it was to be
+otherwise. Oliver's health, as we might observe, was but uncertain in
+late times; often "indisposed" the spring before last. His course of
+life had not been favorable to health! "A burden too heavy for man!" as
+he himself, with a sigh, would sometimes say. Incessant toil;
+inconceivable labor, of head and heart and hand; toil, peril, and sorrow
+manifold, continued for near Twenty years now, had done their part:
+those robust life-energies, it afterwards appeared, had been gradually
+eaten out. Like a Tower strong to the eye, but with its foundations
+undermined; which has not long to stand; the fall of which, on any
+shock, may be sudden.--
+
+The Manzinis and Ducs de Crequi, with their splendors, and
+congratulations about Dunkirk, interesting to the street-populations and
+general public, had not yet withdrawn, when at Hampton Court there had
+begun a private scene, of much deeper and quite opposite interest there.
+The Lady Claypole, Oliver's favorite Daughter, a favorite of all the
+world, had fallen sick we know not when; lay sick now,--to death, as it
+proved. Her disease was of a nature, the painfullest and most harassing
+to mind and sense, it is understood, that falls to the lot of a human
+creature. Hampton Court we can fancy once more, in those July days, a
+house of sorrow; pale Death knocking there, as at the door of the
+meanest hut. "She had great sufferings, great exercises of spirit."
+Yes:--and in the depths of the old Centuries, we see a pale anxious
+Mother, anxious Husband, anxious weeping Sisters, a poor young Frances
+weeping anew in her weeds. "For the last fourteen days" his Highness had
+been by her bedside at Hampton Court, unable to attend to any public
+business whatever. Be still, my Child; trust thou yet in God: in the
+waves of the Dark River, there too is He a God of help!--On the 6th day
+of August she lay dead; at rest forever. My young, my beautiful, my
+brave! She is taken from me; I am left bereaved of her. The Lord giveth,
+and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the Name of the Lord!--...
+
+In the same dark days, occurred George Fox's third and last interview
+with Oliver.--.... George dates nothing; and his facts everywhere lie
+round him like the leather-parings of his old shop: but we judge it may
+have been about the time when the Manzinis and the Ducs de Crequi were
+parading in their gilt coaches, That George and two Friends "going out
+of Town," on a summer day, "two of Hacker's men" had met them,--taken
+them, brought them to the Mews. "Prisoners there awhile:"--but the
+Lord's power was over Hacker's men; they had to let us go. Whereupon:
+
+"The same day, taking boat I went down" (_up_) "to Kingston, and from
+thence to Hampton Court, to speak with the Protector about the
+Sufferings of Friends. I met him riding into Hampton-Court Park; and
+before I came to him, as he rode at the head of his Lifeguard, I saw and
+felt a waft" (_whiff_) "of death go forth against him."----Or in favor
+of him, George? His life, if thou knew it, has not been a merry thing
+for this man, now or heretofore! I fancy he has been looking, this long
+while, to give it up, whenever the Commander-in-Chief required. To quit
+his laborious sentry-post; honorably lay-up his arms, and be gone to his
+rest:--all Eternity to rest in, O George! Was thy own life merry, for
+example, in the hollow of the tree; clad permanently in leather? And
+does kingly purple, and governing refractory worlds instead of stitching
+coarse shoes, make it merrier? The waft of death is not against _him_, I
+think,--perhaps against thee, and me, and others, O George, when the
+Nell-Gwynn Defender and Two Centuries of all-victorious Cant have come
+in upon us! My unfortunate George----"a waft of death go forth against
+him; and when I came to him, he looked like a dead man. After I had laid
+the Sufferings of Friends before him, and had warned him according as I
+was moved to speak to him, he bade me come to his house. So I returned
+to Kingston; and, the next day, went up to Hampton Court to speak
+farther with him. But when I came, Harvey, who was one that waited on
+him, told me the Doctors were not willing that I should speak with him.
+So I passed away, and never saw him more."
+
+Friday the 20th of August 1658, this was probably the day on which
+George Fox saw Oliver riding into Hampton Park with his Guards, for the
+last time. That Friday, as we find, his Highness seemed much better: but
+on the morrow a sad change had taken place; feverish symptoms, for which
+the Doctors rigorously prescribed quiet. Saturday to Tuesday the
+symptoms continued ever worsening: a kind of tertian ague, "bastard
+tertian" as the old Doctors name it; for which it was ordered that his
+Highness should return to Whitehall, as to a more favorable air in that
+complaint. On Tuesday accordingly he quitted Hampton Court;--never to
+see it more.
+
+"His time was come," says Harvey; "and neither prayers nor tears could
+prevail with God to lengthen out his life and continue him longer to us.
+Prayers abundantly and incessantly poured out on his behalf, both
+publicly and privately, as was observed, in a more than ordinary way.
+Besides many a secret sigh,--secret and unheard by men, yet like the cry
+of Moses, more loud, and strongly laying hold on God, than many spoken
+supplications. All which,--the hearts of God's People being thus
+mightily stirred up,--did seem to beget confidence in some, and hopes in
+all; yea some thoughts in himself, that God would restore him."
+
+"Prayers public and private:" they are worth imagining to ourselves.
+Meetings of Preachers, Chaplains, and Godly Persons; "Owen, Goodwin,
+Sterry, with a company of others, in an adjoining room"; in Whitehall,
+and elsewhere over religious London and England, fervent outpourings of
+many a loyal heart. For there were hearts to whom the nobleness of this
+man was known; and his worth to the Puritan Cause was evident.
+Prayers,--strange enough to us; in a dialect fallen obsolete, forgotten
+now. Authentic wrestlings of ancient Human Souls,--who were alive then,
+with their affections, awestruck pieties; with their Human Wishes, risen
+to be _transcendent_, hoping to prevail with the Inexorable. All
+swallowed now in the depths of dark Time; which is full of such, since
+the beginning!--Truly it is a great scene of World-History, this in old
+Whitehall: Oliver Cromwell drawing nigh to his end. The exit of Oliver
+Cromwell and of English Puritanism; a great Light, one of our few
+authentic Solar Luminaries, going down now amid the clouds of Death.
+Like the setting of a great victorious Summer Sun; its course now
+finished. "_So stirbt ein Held_," says Schiller, "So dies a Hero! Sight
+worthy to be worshipped!"--He died, this Hero Oliver, in Resignation to
+God; as the Brave have all done. "We could not be more desirous he
+should abide," says the pious Harvey, "than he was content and willing
+to be gone." The struggle lasted, amid hope and fear, for ten days....
+
+On Monday August 30th, there roared and howled all day a mighty storm of
+wind.... It was on this stormy Monday, while rocking winds, heard in the
+sickroom and everywhere, were piping aloud, that Thurloe and an Official
+person entered to enquire, Who, in case of the worst, was to be his
+Highness's Successor? The Successor is named in a sealed Paper already
+drawn-up, above a year ago, at Hampton Court; now lying in such and such
+a place. The Paper was sent for, searched for; it could never be found.
+Richard's is the name understood to have been written in that Paper: not
+a good name; but in fact one does not know. In ten years' time, had ten
+years more been granted, Richard might have become a fitter man; might
+have been cancelled, if palpably unfit. Or perhaps it was Fleetwood's
+name,--and the Paper, by certain parties, was stolen? None knows. On the
+Thursday night following, "and not till then," his Highness is
+understood to have formally named "Richard",--or perhaps it might only
+be some heavy-laden "Yes, yes!" spoken, out of the thick death-slumbers,
+in answer to Thurloe's _question_ "Richard?" The thing is a little
+uncertain. It was, once more, a matter of much moment;--giving color
+probably to all the subsequent Centuries of England, this answer!--...
+
+Thursday night the Writer of our old Pamphlet [Harvey] was himself in
+attendance on his Highness; and has preserved a trait or two; with which
+let us hasten to conclude. Tomorrow is September Third, always kept as a
+Thanksgiving day, since the Victories of Dunbar and Worcester. The
+wearied one, "that very night before the Lord took him to his
+everlasting rest," was heard thus, with oppressed voice, speaking:
+
+"'Truly God is good; indeed He is; He will not'----Then his speech
+failed him, but as I apprehended, it was, 'He will not leave me.' This
+saying, 'God is good,' he frequently used all along; and would speak it
+with much cheerfulness, and fervor of spirit, in the midst of his
+pains.--Again he said: 'I would be willing to live to be farther
+serviceable to God and His People: but my work is done. Yet God will be
+with His People.'
+
+"He was very restless most part of the night, speaking often to himself.
+And there being something to drink offered him, he was desired To take
+the same, and endeavor to sleep.--Unto which he answered: 'It is not my
+design to drink or sleep; but my design is, to make what haste I can to
+be gone.'--
+
+"Afterwards, towards morning, he used divers holy expressions, implying
+much inward consolation and peace; among the rest he spake some
+exceeding self-debasing words, _annihilating_ and judging himself. And
+truly it was observed, that a public spirit to God's Cause did breathe
+in him,--as in his lifetime, so now to his very last."
+
+When the morrow's sun rose, Oliver was speechless; between three and
+four in the afternoon, he lay dead. Friday 3rd September 1658. "The
+consternation and astonishment of all people," writes Fauconberg, "are
+inexpressible; their hearts seem as if sunk within them. My poor
+Wife,--I know not what on earth to do with her. When seemingly quieted,
+she bursts out again into a passion that tears her very heart in
+pieces."--Husht, poor weeping Mary! Here is a Life-battle right nobly
+done. Seest thou not,
+
+    "The storm is changed into a calm,
+    At His command and will;
+    So that the waves which raged before
+    Now quiet are and still!
+
+    "Then are _they_ glad,--because at rest
+    And quiet now they be:
+    So to the haven He them brings
+    Which they desired to see."
+
+"Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord;" blessed are the valiant
+that have lived in the Lord. "Amen, saith the Spirit,"--Amen. "They do
+rest from their labors, and their works follow them."
+
+"Their works follow them." As, I think, this Oliver Cromwell's works
+have done and are still doing! We have had our "Revolutions of
+Eighty-eight," officially called "glorious"; and other Revolutions not
+yet called glorious; and somewhat has been gained for poor Mankind.
+Men's ears are not now slit-off by rash Officiality; Officiality will,
+for long henceforth, be more cautious about men's ears. The tyrannous
+Star-chambers, branding-irons, chimerical Kings and Surplices at
+All-hallowtide, they are gone, or with immense velocity going. Oliver's
+works do follow him!--The works of a man, bury them under what
+guano-mountains and obscene owl-droppings you will, do not perish,
+cannot perish. What of Heroism, what of Eternal Light was in a Man and
+his Life, is with very great exactness added to the Eternities; remains
+forever a new divine portion of the Sum of Things; and no owl's voice,
+this way or that, in the least avails in the matter.--But we have to
+end here.
+
+Oliver is gone; and with him England's Puritanism, laboriously built
+together by this man, and made a thing far-shining, miraculous to its
+own Century, and memorable to all the Centuries, soon goes. Puritanism,
+without its King, is _kingless_, anarchic; falls into dislocation,
+self-collision; staggers, plunges into ever deeper anarchy; King,
+Defender of the Puritan Faith there can now none be found;--and nothing
+is left but to recall the old disowned Defender with the remnants of his
+Four Surplices, and Two Centuries of _Hypocrisis_ (or Play-acting _not_
+so-called), and put-up with all that, the best we may. The Genius of
+England no longer soars Sunward, world-defiant, like an Eagle through
+the storms, "mewing her mighty youth," as John Milton saw her do: the
+Genius of England, much liker a greedy Ostrich intent on provender and a
+whole skin mainly, stands with its _other_ extremity Sunward; with its
+Ostrich-head stuck into the readiest bush, of old Church-tippets,
+King-cloaks, or what other "sheltering Fallacy" there may be, and _so_
+awaits the issue. The issue has been slow; but it is now seen to have
+been inevitable. No Ostrich, intent on gross terrene provender, and
+sticking its head into Fallacies, but will be awakened one day,--in a
+terrible _à-posteriori_ manner, if not otherwise!----Awake before it
+come to that; gods and men bid us awake! The Voices of our Fathers, with
+thousand-fold stern monition to one and all, bid us awake.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[M] The author's use of capital letters and punctuation marks has
+been retained.
+
+
+
+
+LVIII. EACH AND ALL.
+
+RALPH WALDO EMERSON.--1803-1882.
+
+
+    Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloak'd clown
+    Of thee from the hill-top looking down;
+    The heifer that lows in the upland farm,
+    Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
+    The sexton, tolling his bell at noon,
+    Deems not that great Napoleon
+    Stops his horse, and lists with delight,
+    While his files sweep round yon Alpine height;
+    Nor knowest thou what argument
+    Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent.
+    All are needed by each one--
+    Nothing is fair or good alone.
+
+    I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,
+    Singing at dawn on the alder bough;
+    I brought him home in his nest, at even,
+    He sings the song, but it pleases not now;
+    For I did not bring home the river and sky;
+    He sang to my ear--they sang to my eye.
+
+    The delicate shells lay on the shore;
+    The bubbles of the latest wave
+    Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,
+    And the bellowing of the savage sea
+    Greeted their safe escape to me.
+    I wiped away the weeds and foam--
+    I fetch'd my sea-born treasures home;
+    But the poor unsightly, noisome things
+    Had left their beauty on the shore,
+    With the sun and the sand, and the wild uproar.
+
+    The lover watch'd his graceful maid,
+    As 'mid the virgin train she stray'd;
+    Nor knew her beauty's best attire
+    Was woven still by the snow-white choir.
+    At last she came to his hermitage,
+    Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;
+    The gay enchantment was undone--
+    A gentle wife, but fairy none.
+
+    Then I said, "I covet truth;
+    Beauty is unripe childhoods cheat--
+    I leave it behind with the games of youth."
+    As I spoke, beneath my feet
+    The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,
+    Running over the club-moss burrs;
+    I inhaled the violet's breath;
+    Around me stood the oaks and firs;
+    Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground;
+    Over me soar'd the eternal sky,
+    Full of light and of deity;
+    Again I saw, again I heard,
+    The rolling river, the morning bird;
+    Beauty through my senses stole--
+    I yielded myself to the perfect whole.
+
+
+
+
+LIX. WATERLOO.
+
+CHARLES JAMES LEVER.--1806-1872.
+
+_From_ CHARLES O'MALLEY.
+
+
+"This is the officer that I spoke of," said an aid-de-camp, as he rode
+up to where I was standing, bare-headed and without a sword. "He has
+just made his escape from the French lines, and will be able to give
+your lordship some information."
+
+The handsome features and gorgeous costume of Lord Uxbridge were known
+to me; but I was not aware, till afterwards, that a soldierlike,
+resolute looking officer beside him, was General Graham. It was the
+latter who first addressed me.
+
+"Are you aware, Sir," said he, "if Grouchy's force is arrived?"
+
+"They had not: on the contrary, shortly before I escaped, an aid-de-camp
+was despatched to Gembloux, to hasten his coming. And the troops, for
+they must be troops, debouching from the wood yonder--they seem to form
+a junction with the corps to the right--they are the Prussians. They
+arrived there before noon from St. Lambert, and are part of Bülow's
+corps. Count Löbau and his division of ten thousand men were despatched,
+about an hour since, to hold them in check."
+
+"This is great news," said Lord Uxbridge. "Fitzroy must know it at
+once."
+
+So saying he dashed spurs into his horse, and soon disappeared amid the
+crowd on the hill top.
+
+"You had better see the Duke, Sir," said Graham: "your information is
+too important to be delayed. Captain Calvert, let this officer have a
+horse; his own is too tired to go much further."
+
+"And a cap, I beg of you," added I, in an under tone; "for I have
+already found a sabre."
+
+By a slight circuitous route, we reached the road upon which a mass of
+dismounted artillery-carts, baggage-wagons, and tumbrils, were heaped
+together as a barricade against the attack of the French dragoons, who
+more than once had penetrated to the very crest of our position. Close
+to this, and on a little rising ground, from which a view of the entire
+field extended from Hougoumont to the far left, the Duke of Wellington
+stood, surrounded by his staff. His eye was bent upon the valley before
+him, where the advancing columns of Ney's attack still pressed onwards;
+while the fire of sixty great guns poured death and carnage into his
+lines. The second Belgian division, routed and broken, had fallen back
+upon the twenty-seventh regiment, who had merely time to throw
+themselves into square, when Milhaud's cuirassiers, armed with a
+terrible long straight sword, came sweeping down upon them. A line of
+impassable bayonets, a living _chevaux-de-frise_ of the best blood of
+Britain, stood firm and motionless before the shock: the French
+_mitraille_ played mercilessly on the ranks; but the chasms were filled
+up like magic, and in vain the bold horsemen of Gaul galloped round the
+bristling files. At length the word "fire!" was heard within the square,
+and as the bullets at pistol range rattled upon them, the cuirass
+afforded them no defence against the deadly volley. Men and horses
+rolled indiscriminately upon the earth: then would come a charge of our
+dashing squadrons, who, riding recklessly upon the foe, were, in their
+turn, to be repulsed by numbers, when fresh attacks would pour down upon
+our unshaken infantry.
+
+"That column yonder is wavering: why does he not bring up his
+supporting squadrons?" inquired the Duke, pointing to a Belgian regiment
+of light dragoons, who were formed in the same brigade with the seventh
+hussars.
+
+"He refuses to oppose his light cavalry to cuirassiers, my lord," said
+an aid-de-camp, who had just returned from the division in question.
+
+"Tell him to march his men off the ground," said the Duke, with a quiet
+and impassive tone.
+
+In less than ten minutes the regiment was seen to defile from the mass,
+and take the road to Brussels, to increase the panic of that city, by
+circulating and strengthening the report, that the English were
+beaten,--and Napoleon in full march upon the capital.
+
+"What's Ney's force? can you guess, Sir?" said Lord Wellington turning
+to me.
+
+"About twelve thousand men, my lord."
+
+"Are the Guard among them?"
+
+"No, Sir; the Guard are in reserve above La Belle Alliance."
+
+"In what part of the field is Buonaparte?"
+
+"Nearly opposite to where we stand."
+
+"I told you, gentlemen, Hougoumont never was the great attack. The
+battle must be decided here," pointing, as he spoke, to the plain
+beneath us, where still Ney poured on his devoted columns, where yet the
+French cavalry rode down upon our firm squares.
+
+As he spoke an aid-de-camp rode up from the valley.
+
+"The ninety-second requires support, my lord: they cannot maintain their
+positions half an hour longer, without it."
+
+"Have they given way, Sir?"
+
+"No----"
+
+"Well, then, they must stand where they are. I hear cannon towards the
+left; yonder, near Frischermont."
+
+At this moment the light cavalry swept past the base of the hill on
+which we stood, hotly followed by the French heavy cuirassier brigade.
+Three of our guns were taken; and the cheering of the French infantry,
+as they advanced to the charge, presaged their hope of victory.
+
+"Do it, then," said the Duke, in reply to some whispered question of
+Lord Uxbridge; and shortly after the heavy trot of advancing squadrons
+was heard behind.
+
+They were the Life Guards and the Blues, who, with the first Dragoon
+Guards and the Enniskilleners, were formed into close column.
+
+"I know the ground, my Lord," said I to Lord Uxbridge.
+
+"Come along, Sir, come along," said he, as he threw his hussar jacket
+loosely behind him, to give freedom to his sword-arm.--"Forward, my men,
+forward; but steady, hold your horses in hand; threes about, and
+together charge."
+
+"Charge!" he shouted; while, as the word flew from squadron to squadron,
+each horseman bent upon his saddle, and that mighty mass, as though
+instinct with but one spirit, dashed like a thunder-bolt upon the column
+beneath them. The French, blown and exhausted, inferior beside in weight
+both of man and horse, offered but a short resistance. As the tall corn
+bends beneath the sweeping hurricane, wave succeeding wave, so did the
+steel-clad squadrons of France fall before the nervous arm of Britain's
+cavalry. Onward they went, carrying death and ruin before them, and
+never stayed their course, until the guns were recaptured, and the
+cuirassiers, repulsed, disordered, and broken, had retired beneath the
+protection of their artillery.
+
+There was, as a brilliant and eloquent writer on the subject
+mentions, a terrible sameness in the whole of this battle. Incessant
+charges of cavalry upon the squares of our infantry, whose sole
+manoeuvre consisted in either deploying into line to resist the
+attack of infantry, or falling back into square when the cavalry
+advanced--performing those two evolutions under the devastating fire
+of artillery, before the unflinching heroism of that veteran infantry
+whose glories had been reaped upon the blood-stained fields of
+Austerlitz, Marengo, and Wagram--or opposing an unbroken front to the
+whirlwind swoop of infuriated cavalry;--such were the enduring and
+devoted services demanded from the English troops, and such they
+failed not to render. Once or twice had temper nearly failed them,
+and the cry ran through the ranks, "Are we never to move
+forward?--Only let us at them!" But the word was not yet spoken which
+was to undam the pent-up torrent, and bear down with unrelenting
+vengeance upon the now exulting columns of the enemy.
+
+It was six o'clock: the battle had continued with unchanged fortune for
+three hours. The French, masters of La Haye Sainte, could never advance
+further into our position. They had gained the orchard of Hougoumont,
+but the château was still held by the British Guards, although its
+blazing roof and crumbling walls made its occupation rather the
+desperate stand of unflinching valor than the maintenance of an
+important position. The smoke which hung upon the field rolled in slow
+and heavy masses back upon the French lines, and gradually discovered to
+our view the entire of the army. We quickly perceived that a change was
+taking place in their position. The troops which on their left
+stretched far beyond Hougoumont, were now moved nearer to the centre.
+The attack upon the château seemed less vigorously supported, while the
+oblique direction of their right wing, which, pivoting upon Planchenoit,
+opposed a face to the Prussians,--all denoted a change in their order of
+battle. It was now the hour when Napoleon was at last convinced that
+nothing but the carnage he could no longer support could destroy the
+unyielding ranks of British infantry; that although Hougoumont had been
+partially, La Haye Sainte, completely, won; that although upon the right
+the farm-houses Papelotte and La Haye were nearly surrounded by his
+troops, which with any other army must prove the forerunner of defeat:
+yet still the victory was beyond his grasp. The bold stratagems, whose
+success the experience of a life had proved, were here to be found
+powerless. The decisive manoeuvre of carrying one important point of
+the enemy's lines, of turning him upon the flank, or piercing him
+through the centre, were here found impracticable. He might launch his
+avalanche of grape-shot, he might pour down his crashing columns of
+cavalry, he might send forth the iron storm of his brave infantry; but,
+though death in every shape heralded their approach, still were others
+found to fill the fallen ranks, and feed with their heart's blood the
+unslaked thirst for slaughter. Well might the gallant leader of this
+gallant host, as he watched the reckless onslaught of the untiring
+enemy, and looked upon the unflinching few, who, bearing the proud badge
+of Britain, alone sustained the fight, well might he exclaim, "Night,
+or Blücher!"
+
+It was now seven o'clock, when a dark mass was seen to form upon the
+heights above the French centre, and divide into three gigantic
+columns, of which the right occupied the Brussels road. These were the
+reserves, consisting of the Old and Young Guards, and amounting to
+twelve thousand--the _élite_ of the French army--reserved by the Emperor
+for a great _coup-de-main_. These veterans of a hundred battles had been
+stationed, from the beginning of the day, inactive spectators of the
+fight; their hour was now come, and, with a shout of "_Vive
+l'Empereur!_" which rose triumphantly over the din and crash of battle,
+they began their march. Meanwhile, aids-de-camp galloped along the
+lines, announcing the arrival of Grouchy, to reanimate the drooping
+spirits of the men; for, at last, a doubt of victory was breaking upon
+the minds of those who never before, in the most adverse hour of
+fortune, deemed _his_ star could set that led them on to glory.
+
+"They are coming: the attack will be made on the centre, my lord," said
+Lord Fitzroy Somerset, as he directed his glass upon the column.
+Scarcely had he spoke when the telescope fell from his hand, as his arm,
+shattered by a French bullet, fell motionless to his side.
+
+"I see it," was the cool reply of the Duke, as he ordered the Guards to
+deploy into line, and lie down behind the ridge, which now the French
+artillery had found the range of, and were laboring at with their guns.
+In front of them the fifty-second, seventy-first, and ninety-fifth were
+formed; the artillery, stationed above and partly upon the road, loaded
+with grape, and waited but the word to open.
+
+It was an awful, a dreadful moment: the Prussian cannon thundered on our
+left; but so desperate was the French resistance, they made but little
+progress: the dark columns of the Guard had now commenced the ascent,
+and the artillery ceased their fire as the bayonets of the grenadiers
+showed themselves upon the slope. Then began that tremendous cheer from
+right to left of our line which those who heard never can forget. It was
+the impatient, long-restrained burst of unslaked vengeance. With the
+instinct which valor teaches, they knew the hour of trial was come; and
+that wild cry flew from rank to rank, echoing from the blood-stained
+walls of Hougoumont to the far-off valley of La Papelotte. "They come!
+they come!" was the cry; and the shout of "_Vive l'Empereur!_" mingled
+with the outburst of the British line.
+
+Under an overwhelming shower of grape, to which succeeded a charge of
+cavalry of the Imperial Guard, the head of Ney's column fired its volley
+and advanced with the bayonet. The British artillery now opened at half
+range, and although the plunging fire scathed and devastated the dark
+ranks of the Guards, on they came,--Ney himself, on foot, at their head.
+Twice the leading division of that gallant column turned completely
+round, as the withering fire wasted and consumed them; but they were
+resolved to win.
+
+Already they had gained the crest of the hill, and the first line of the
+British were falling back before them. The artillery closes up; the
+flanking fire from the guns upon the road opens upon them; the head of
+their column breaks like a shell; the Duke seizes the moment, and
+advances on foot towards the ridge.
+
+"Up, Guards, and at them!" he cried.
+
+The hour of triumph and vengeance had arrived. In a moment the Guards
+were on their feet; one volley was poured in; the bayonets were brought
+to the charge; they closed upon the enemy: then was seen the most
+dreadful struggle that the history of all war can present. Furious with
+long restrained passion, the guards rushed upon the leading divisions;
+the seventy-first, and ninety-fifth, and twenty-sixth overlapped them on
+the flanks. Their generals fell thickly on every side; Michel, Jamier,
+and Mallet are killed: Friant lies wounded upon the ground; Ney, his
+dress pierced and ragged with balls, shouts still to advance; but the
+leading files waver; they fall back; the supporting divisions thicken;
+confusion, panic succeeds; the British press down; the cavalry come
+galloping up to their assistance; and, at last, pell-mell, overwhelmed
+and beaten, the French fall back upon the Old Guard. This was the
+decisive moment of the day;--the Duke closed his glass, as he said:
+
+"The field is won. Order the whole line to advance."
+
+On they came, four deep, and poured like a torrent from the height.
+
+"Let the Life Guards charge them," said the Duke; but every aid-de-camp
+on his staff was wounded, and I myself brought the order to Lord
+Uxbridge.
+
+Lord Uxbridge had already anticipated his orders, and bore down with
+four regiments of heavy cavalry upon the French centre. The Prussian
+artillery thundered upon their flank, and at their rear. The British
+bayonet was in their front; while a panic fear spread through their
+ranks, and the cry "_Sauve qui peut!_" resounded on all sides. In vain
+Ney, the bravest of the brave; in vain Soult, Bertrand, Gourgaud, and
+Labedoyère, burst from the broken disorganized mass, and called on them
+to stand fast. A battalion of the Old Guard, with Cambronne at their
+head, alone obeyed the summons: forming into square, they stood between
+the pursuers and their prey, offering themselves a sacrifice to the
+tarnished honor of their arms: to the order to surrender, they answered
+with a cry of defiance; and, as our cavalry, flushed and elated with
+victory, rode round their bristling ranks, no quailing look, no craven
+spirit was there. The Emperor himself endeavored to repair the disaster;
+he rode with lightening speed hither and thither, commanding, ordering,
+nay imploring too; but already the night was falling, the confusion
+became each moment more inextricable, and the effort was a fruitless
+one. A regiment of the Guards, and two batteries were in reserve behind
+Planchenoit; he threw them rapidly into position; but the overwhelming
+impulse of flight drove the mass upon them, and they were carried away
+upon the torrent of the beaten army. No sooner did the Emperor see this
+his last hope desert him, than he dismounted from his horse, and,
+drawing his sword, threw himself into a square, which the first regiment
+of chasseurs of the Old Guard had formed with a remnant of the
+battalion; Jerome followed him, as he called out:
+
+"You are right, brother: here should perish all who bear the name of
+Buonaparte."
+
+The same moment the Prussian light artillery rend the ranks asunder, and
+the cavalry charge down upon the scattered fragments. A few of his
+staff, who never left him, place the Emperor upon a horse,--and fly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+          _Wellington,
+    Thy great work is but begun!
+    With quick seed his end is rife
+    Whose long tale of conquering strife
+    Shows no triumph like his life
+          Lost and won._
+
+        DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.--1828-1882.
+            _On Wellington's Funeral, Nov. 18th, 1852._
+
+
+
+
+LX. THE DIVER.
+
+EDWARD BULWER, LORD LYTTON.--1805-1873.
+
+_Translated from the German of Schiller_.
+
+
+    "O where is the knight or the squire so bold
+      As to dive to the howling Charybdis below?--
+    I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold,
+      And o'er it already the dark waters flow;
+    Whoever to me may the goblet bring,
+    Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king."
+
+    He spoke, and the cup from the terrible steep,
+      That, rugged and hoary, hung over the verge
+    Of the endless and measureless world of the deep,
+      Swirl'd into the maelstrom that madden'd the surge.
+    "And where is the diver so stout to go--
+    I ask ye again--to the deep below?"
+
+    And the knights and the squires that gather'd around,
+      Stood silent--and fix'd on the ocean their eyes;
+    They look'd on the dismal and savage profound,
+      And the peril chill'd back every thought of the prize.
+    And thrice spoke the monarch: "The cup to win,
+    Is there never a wight who will venture in?"
+
+    And all as before heard in silence the king,
+      Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle,
+    'Mid the tremulous squires stepp'd out from the ring,
+      Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle;
+    And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder,
+    On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder.
+
+    As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave
+      One glance on the gulf of that merciless main,
+    Lo! the wave that for ever devours the wave,
+      Casts roaringly up the Charybdis again:
+    And, as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,
+    Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom.
+
+    And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,
+      As when fire is with water commix'd and contending,
+    And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,
+      And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending;
+    And it never _will_ rest, nor from travail be free,
+    Like a sea that is laboring the birth of a sea.
+
+    Yet, at length, comes a lull o'er the mighty commotion,
+      And dark through the whiteness, and still through the swell,
+    The whirlpool cleaves downward and downward in ocean
+      A yawning abyss, like the pathway to hell;
+    The stiller and darker the farther it goes,
+    Suck'd into that smoothness the breakers repose.
+
+    The youth gave his trust to his Maker! Before
+      That path through the riven abyss closed again,
+    Hark! a shriek from the gazers that circle the shore,--
+      And, behold! he is whirl'd in the grasp of the main!
+    And o'er him the breakers mysteriously roll'd,
+    And the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold.
+
+    All was still on the height, save the murmur that went
+      From the grave of the deep, sounding hollow and fell,
+    Or save when the tremulous, sighing lament
+      Thrill'd from lip unto lip, "Gallant youth, fare thee well!"
+    More hollow and more wails the deep on the ear,--
+    More dread and more dread grows suspense in its fear.
+
+    --If thou shouldst in those waters thy diadem fling,
+      And cry, "Who may find it shall win it and wear";
+    God wot, though the prize were the crown of a king,
+      A crown at such hazard were valued too dear.
+    For never shall lips of the living reveal
+    What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal.
+
+    Oh, many a bark, to that breast grappled fast,
+      Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave;
+    Again, crash'd together the keel and the mast,
+      To be seen toss'd aloft in the glee of the wave!--
+    Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer,
+    Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer.
+
+    And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,
+      As when fire is with water commix'd and contending;
+    And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,
+      And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending,
+    And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,
+    Rushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom.
+
+    And, lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom,
+      Like the wing of the cygnet--what gleams on the sea?
+    Lo! an arm and a neck glancing up from the tomb!
+      Steering stalwart and shoreward: O joy, it is he!
+    The left hand is lifted in triumph; behold,
+    It waves as a trophy the goblet of gold!
+
+    And he breathèd deep, and he breathèd long,
+      And he greeted the heavenly light of the day.
+    They gaze on each other,--they shout as they throng,
+      "He lives--lo, the ocean has render'd its prey!
+    And safe from the whirlpool, and free from the grave,
+    Comes back to the daylight the soul of the brave!"
+
+    And he comes, with the crowd in their clamor and glee;
+      And the goblet his daring has won from the water
+    He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee
+      And the king from her maidens has beckon'd his daughter.
+    She pours to the boy the bright wine which they bring,
+    And thus spoke the diver; "Long life to the King!
+
+    "Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice,
+      The air and the sky that to mortals are given!
+    May the horror below nevermore find a voice,--
+      Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven!
+    Nevermore,--nevermore may he lift from the sight
+    The veil which is woven with terror and night!
+
+    "Quick brightening like lightning the ocean rush'd o'er me,
+      Wild floating, borne down fathom-deep from the day;
+    Till a torrent rush'd out on the torrents that bore me,
+      And doubled the tempest that whirl'd me away.
+    Vain, vain was my struggle,--the circle had won me,
+    Round and round in its dance the mad element spun me.
+
+    "From the deep then I call'd upon God, and He heard me;
+      In the dread of my need, He vouchsafed to mine eye
+    A rock jutting out from the grave that interr'd me;
+      I sprung there, I clung there,--and death pass'd me by.
+    And, lo! where the goblet gleam'd through the abyss,
+    By a coral reef saved from the far Fathomless.
+
+    "Below, at the foot of that precipice drear,
+      Spread the gloomy and purple and pathless Obscure!
+    A silence of horror that slept on the ear,
+      That the eye more appall'd might the horror endure;
+    Salamander, snake, dragon--vast reptiles that dwell
+    In the deep--coil'd about the grim jaws of their hell.
+
+    "Dark crawl'd, glided dark, the unspeakable swarms,
+      Clump'd together in masses, misshapen and vast;
+    Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms;
+      Here the dark-moving bulk of the hammer-fish pass'd;
+    And, with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion,
+    Went the terrible shark,--the hyena of ocean.
+
+    "There I hung, and the awe gather'd icily o'er me,
+      So far from the earth, where man's help there was none!
+    The one human thing, with the goblins before me--
+      Alone--in a loneness so ghastly--ALONE!
+    Deep under the reach of the sweet living breath,
+    And begirt with the broods of the desert of Death.
+
+    "Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now
+      IT saw--a dread hundred-limb'd creature--its prey!
+    And darted, devouring; I sprang from the bough
+      Of the coral, and swept on the horrible way;
+    And the whirl of the mighty wave seized me once more,
+    It seized me to save me, and dash to the shore."
+
+    On the youth gazed the monarch, and marvell'd: quoth he,
+      "Bold diver, the goblet I promised is thine;
+    And this ring I will give, a fresh guerdon to thee--
+      Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine--
+    If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again,
+    To say what lies hid in the _innermost_ main."
+
+    Then out spake the daughter in tender emotion:
+      "Ah! father, my father, what more can there rest?
+    Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean:
+      He has serv'd thee as none would, thyself hast confest.
+    If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire,
+    Let thy knights put to shame the exploit of the squire!"
+
+    The king seized the goblet, he swung it on high,
+      And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide;
+    "But bring back that goblet again to my eye,
+      And I'll hold thee the dearest that rides by my side;
+    And thine arms shall embrace as thy bride, I decree,
+    The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee."
+
+    And Heaven, as he listen'd, spoke out from the space,
+      And the hope that makes heroes shot flame from his eyes;
+    He gazed on the blush in that beautiful face--
+      It pales--at the feet of her father she lies!
+    How priceless the guerdon!--a moment--a breath--
+    And headlong he plunges to life and to death!
+
+    They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell,
+      Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along!
+    Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell.
+      They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng,
+    Roaring up to the cliff,--roaring back as before,
+    But no wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore!
+
+
+
+
+LXI. THE PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS.
+
+CARDINAL NEWMAN.--1801-
+
+_From_ CALLISTA.
+
+
+Juba's finger was directed to a spot where, amid the thick foliage, the
+gleam of a pool or of a marsh was visible. The various waters round
+about, issuing from the gravel, or drained from the nightly damps, had
+run into a hollow, filled with the decaying vegetation of former years.
+Its banks were bordered with a deep, broad layer of mud, a transition
+substance between the rich vegetable matter which it once had been, and
+the multitudinous world of insect life which it was becoming. A cloud or
+mist at this time was hanging over it, high in air. A harsh and shrill
+sound, a whizzing or a chirping, proceeded from that cloud to the ear of
+the attentive listener. What these indications portended was plain....
+
+The plague of locusts, one of the most awful visitations to which the
+countries included in the Roman empire were exposed, extended from the
+Atlantic to Ethiopia, from Arabia to India, and from the Nile and Red
+Sea to Greece and the north of Asia Minor. Instances are recorded in
+history of clouds of the devastating insect crossing the Black Sea to
+Poland, and the Mediterranean to Lombardy. It is as numerous in its
+species as it is wide in its range of territory. Brood follows brood,
+with a sort of family likeness, yet with distinct attributes. It wakens
+into existence and activity as early as the month of March; but
+instances are not wanting, as in our present history, of its appearance
+as late as June. Even one flight comprises myriads upon myriads passing
+imagination, to which the drops of rain or the sands of the sea are the
+only fit comparison; and hence it is almost a proverbial mode of
+expression in the East, by way of describing a vast invading army, to
+liken it to the locusts. So dense are they, when upon the wing, that it
+is no exaggeration to say that they hide the sun, from which
+circumstance indeed their name in Arabic is derived. And so ubiquitous
+are they when they have alighted on the earth, that they simply cover or
+clothe its surface.
+
+This last characteristic is stated in the sacred account of the plagues
+of Egypt, where their faculty of devastation is also mentioned. The
+corrupting fly and the bruising and prostrating hail preceded them in
+that series of visitations, but _they_ came to do the work of ruin more
+thoroughly. For not only the crops and fruits, but the foliage of the
+forest itself, nay, the small twigs and the bark of the trees are the
+victims of their curious and energetic rapacity. They have been known
+even to gnaw the door-posts of the houses. Nor do they execute their
+task in so slovenly a way, that, as they have succeeded other plagues,
+so they may have successors themselves. They take pains to spoil what
+they leave. Like the Harpies, they smear every thing that they touch
+with a miserable slime, which has the effect of a virus in corroding, or
+as some say, in scorching and burning. And then, perhaps, as if all this
+were little, when they can do nothing else, they die; as if out of sheer
+malevolence to man, for the poisonous elements of their nature are then
+let loose and dispersed abroad, and create a pestilence; and they manage
+to destroy many more by their death than in their life.
+
+Such are the locusts. And now they are rushing upon a considerable tract
+of that beautiful region of which we have spoken with such admiration.
+The swarm to which Juba pointed grew and grew till it became a compact
+body, as much as a furlong square; yet it was but the vanguard of a
+series of similar hosts, formed one after another out of the hot mould
+or sand, rising into the air like clouds, enlarging into a dusky canopy,
+and then discharged against the fruitful plain. At length the huge
+innumerous mass was put into motion, and began its career, darkening the
+face of day. As became an instrument of divine power, it seemed to have
+no volition of its own; it was set off, it drifted, with the wind, and
+thus made northwards, straight for Sicca. Thus they advanced, host after
+host, for a time wafted on the air, and gradually declining to the
+earth, while fresh broods were carried over the first, and neared the
+earth, after a longer flight, in their turn. For twelve miles did they
+extend from front to rear, and their whizzing and hissing could be heard
+for six miles on every side of them. The bright sun, though hidden by
+them, illumined their bodies, and was reflected from their quivering
+wings; and as they heavily fell earthward, they seemed like the
+innumerable flakes of a yellow-colored snow. And like snow did they
+descend, a living carpet, or rather pall, upon fields, crops, gardens,
+copses, groves, orchards, vineyards, olive woods, orangeries, palm
+plantations, and the deep forests, sparing nothing within their reach,
+and where there was nothing to devour, lying helpless in drifts, or
+crawling forward obstinately, as they best might, with the hope of prey.
+They could spare their hundred thousand soldiers twice or thrice over,
+and not miss them; their masses filled the bottoms of the ravines and
+hollow ways, impeding the traveller as he rode forward on his journey
+and trampled by thousands under his horse-hoofs. In vain was all this
+overthrow and waste by the roadside, in vain their loss in river, pool,
+and watercourse. The poor peasants hastily dug pits and trenches as
+their enemy came on; in vain they filled them from the wells or with
+lighted stubble. Heavily and thickly did the locusts fall; they were
+lavish of their lives; they choked the flame and the water, which
+destroyed them the while, and the vast living hostile armament still
+moved on.
+
+They moved right on like soldiers in their ranks, stopping at nothing,
+and straggling for nothing; they carried a broad furrow or wheal all
+across the country, black and loathsome, while it was as green and
+smiling on each side of them and in front, as it had been before they
+came. Before them, in the language of prophets, was a paradise, and
+behind them a desert. They are daunted by nothing they surmount walls
+and hedges, and enter enclosed gardens or inhabited houses. A rare and
+experimental vineyard has been planted in a sheltered grove. The high
+winds of Africa will not commonly allow the light trellice or the slim
+pole; but here the lofty poplar of Campania has been possible, on which
+the vine plant mounts so many yards into the air, that the poor
+grape-gatherers bargain for a funeral pile and a tomb as one of the
+conditions of their engagement. The locusts have done what the winds and
+lightning could not do, and the whole promise of the vintage, leaves and
+all, is gone, and the slender stems are left bare. There is another
+yard, less uncommon, but still tended with more than common care; each
+plant is kept within due bounds by a circular trench round it, and by
+upright canes on which it is to trail; in an hour the solicitude and
+long toil of the vine-dresser are lost, and his pride humbled. There is
+a smiling farm; another sort of vine, of remarkable character, is found
+against the farmhouse. This vine springs from one root, and has clothed
+and matted with its many branches the four walls. The whole of it is
+covered thick with long clusters, which another month will ripen. On
+every grape and leaf there is a locust. Into the dry caves and pits,
+carefully strewed with straw, the harvest-men have (safely, as they
+thought just now) been lodging the far-famed African wheat. One grain or
+root shoots up into ten, twenty, fifty, eighty, nay, three or four
+hundred stalks: sometimes the stalks have two ears apiece, and these
+shoot into a number of lesser ones. These stores are intended for the
+Roman populace, but the locusts have been beforehand with them. The
+small patches of ground belonging to the poor peasants up and down the
+country, for raising the turnips, garlic, barley, water-melons, on which
+they live, are the prey of these glutton invaders as much as the
+choicest vines and olives. Nor have they any reverence for the villa of
+the civic decurion or the Roman official. The neatly arranged kitchen
+garden, with its cherries, plums, peaches, and apricots, is a waste; as
+the slaves sit round, in the kitchen in the first court, at their coarse
+evening meal, the room is filled with the invading force, and news comes
+to them that the enemy has fallen upon the apples and pears in the
+basement, and is at the same time plundering and sacking the preserves
+of quince and pomegranate, and revelling in the jars of precious oil of
+Cyprus and Mendes in the store-rooms.
+
+They come up to the walls of Sicca, and are flung against them into the
+ditch. Not a moment's hesitation or delay; they recover their footing,
+they climb up the wood or stucco, they surmount the parapet, or they
+have entered in at the windows, filling the apartments, and the most
+private and luxurious chambers, not one or two, like stragglers at
+forage or rioters after a victory, but in order of battle, and with the
+array of an army. Choice plants or flowers about the _impluvia_ and
+_xysti_, for ornament or refreshment, myrtles, oranges, pomegranates,
+the rose and the carnation, have disappeared. They dim the bright
+marbles of the walls and the gilding of the ceilings. They enter the
+triclinium in the midst of the banquet; they crawl over the viands and
+spoil what they do not devour. Unrelaxed by success and by enjoyment,
+onward they go; a secret mysterious instinct keeps them together, as if
+they had a king over them. They move along the floor in so strange an
+order that they seem to be a tessellated pavement themselves, and to be
+the artificial embellishment of the place; so true are their lines, and
+so perfect is the pattern they describe. Onward they go, to the market,
+to the temple sacrifices, to the bakers' stores, to the cookshops, to
+the confectioners, to the druggists; nothing comes amiss to them;
+wherever man has aught to eat or drink, there are they, reckless of
+death, strong of appetite, certain of conquest....
+
+Another and a still worse calamity. The invaders, as we have already
+hinted, could be more terrible still in their overthrow than in their
+ravages. The inhabitants of the country had attempted, where they could,
+to destroy them by fire and water. It would seem as if the malignant
+animals had resolved that the sufferers should have the benefit of this
+policy to the full; for they had not got more than twenty miles beyond
+Sicca when they suddenly sickened and died. When they thus had done all
+the mischief they could by their living, when they thus had made their
+foul maws the grave of every living thing, next they died themselves,
+and made the desolated land their own grave. They took from it its
+hundred forms and varieties of beautiful life, and left it their own
+fetid and poisonous carcases in payment. It was a sudden catastrophe;
+they seemed making for the Mediterranean, as if, like other great
+conquerors, they had other worlds to subdue beyond it; but, whether they
+were overgorged, or struck by some atmospheric change, or that their
+time was come and they paid the debt of nature, so it was that suddenly
+they fell, and their glory came to nought, and all was vanity to them as
+to others, and "their stench rose up, and their corruption rose up,
+because they had done proudly."
+
+The hideous swarms lay dead in the moist steaming underwoods, in the
+green swamps, in the sheltered valleys, in the ditches and furrows of
+the fields, amid the monuments of their own prowess, the ruined crops
+and the dishonored vineyards. A poisonous element, issuing from their
+remains, mingled with the atmosphere, and corrupted it. The dismayed
+peasant found that a plague had begun; a new visitation, not confined to
+the territory which the enemy had made its own, but extending far and
+wide, as the atmosphere extends, in all directions. Their daily toil, no
+longer claimed by the fruits of the earth, which have ceased to exist,
+is now devoted to the object of ridding themselves of the deadly legacy
+which they have received in their stead. In vain; it is their last toil;
+they are digging pits, they are raising piles, for their own corpses, as
+well as for the bodies of their enemies. Invader and victim lie in the
+same grave, burn in the same heap; they sicken while they work, and the
+pestilence spreads.
+
+
+
+
+LXII. THE CANE-BOTTOM'D CHAIR.
+
+WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.--1811-1863.
+
+
+    In tatter'd old slippers that toast at the bars,
+    And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,
+    Away from the world and its toils and its cares,
+    I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.
+
+    To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure,
+    But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure;
+    And the view I behold on a sunshiny day
+    Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way.
+
+    This snug little chamber is cramm'd in all nooks
+    With worthless old knicknacks and silly old books,
+    And foolish old odds and foolish old ends,
+    Crack'd bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends.
+
+    Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china, (all crack'd,)
+    Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-back'd;
+    A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see;
+    What matter? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me.
+
+    No better divan need the Sultan require,
+    Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire;
+    And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get
+    From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet.
+
+    That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp;
+    By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp;
+    A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn:
+    'Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon.
+
+    Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes,
+    Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times;
+    As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie
+    This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me.
+
+    But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest,
+    There's one that I love and I cherish the best;
+    For the finest of couches that's padded with hair
+    I never would change thee, my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    'Tis a bandy-legg'd, high-shoulder'd, worm-eaten seat,
+    With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet;
+    But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there,
+    I bless thee, and love thee, old cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms,
+    A thrill must have pass'd through your wither'd old arms!
+    I look'd, and I long'd, and I wish'd in despair;
+    I wish'd myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    It was but a moment she sat in this place,
+    She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face!
+    A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair,
+    And she sat there, and bloom'd in my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    And so I have valued my chair ever since,
+    Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince;
+    Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare,
+    The queen of my heart and my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    When the candles burn low, and the company's gone,
+    In the silence of night as I sit here alone--
+    I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair--
+    My Fanny I see in my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    She comes from the past and revisits my room;
+    She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom;
+    So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair,
+    And yonder she sits in my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+
+
+
+LXIII. THE RECONCILIATION.[N]
+
+THACKERAY.
+
+
+There was scarce a score of persons in the Cathedral beside the Dean and
+some of his clergy, and the choristers, young and old, that performed
+the beautiful evening prayer. But Mr. Tusher was one of the officiants,
+and read from the eagle in an authoritative voice, and a great black
+periwig; and in the stalls, still in her black widow's hood, sat
+Esmond's dear mistress, her son by her side, very much grown, and indeed
+a noble-looking youth, with his mother's eyes, and his father's curling
+brown hair, that fell over his _point de Venise_--a pretty picture such
+as Vandyke might have painted. Mons. Rigaud's portrait of my Lord
+Viscount, done at Paris afterwards, gives but a French version of his
+manly, frank English face. When he looked up there were two sapphire
+beams out of his eyes such as no painter's palette has the color to
+match, I think. On this day there was not much chance of seeing that
+particular beauty of my young lord's countenance; for the truth is, he
+kept his eyes shut for the most part, and, the anthem being rather long,
+was asleep.
+
+But the music ceasing, my lord woke up, looking about him, and his eyes
+lighting on Mr. Esmond, who was sitting opposite him, gazing with no
+small tenderness and melancholy upon two persons who had so much of his
+heart for so many years, Lord Castlewood, with a start; pulled at his
+mother's sleeve (her face had scarce been lifted from her book), and
+said, "Look, mother!" so loud, that Esmond could hear on the other side
+of the church, and the old Dean on his throned stall. Lady Castlewood
+looked for an instant as her son bade her, and held up a warning finger
+to Frank; Esmond felt his whole face flush, and his heart throbbing, as
+that dear lady beheld him once more. The rest of the prayers were
+speedily over; Mr. Esmond did not hear them; nor did his mistress, very
+likely, whose hood went more closely over her face, and who never lifted
+her head again until the service was over, the blessing given, and Mr.
+Dean, and his procession of ecclesiastics, out of the inner chapel.
+
+Young Castlewood came clambering over the stalls before the clergy were
+fairly gone, and running up to Esmond, eagerly embraced him. "My dear,
+dearest old Harry!" he said, "are you come back? Have you been to the
+wars? You'll take me with you when you go again? Why didn't you write to
+us? Come to mother."
+
+Mr. Esmond could hardly say more than a "God bless you, my boy," for his
+heart was very full and grateful at all this tenderness on the lad's
+part; and he was as much moved at seeing Frank as he was fearful about
+that other interview which was now to take place: for he knew not if the
+widow would reject him as she had done so cruelly a year ago.
+
+"It was kind of you to come back to us, Henry," Lady Esmond said. "I
+thought you might come."
+
+"We read of the fleet coming to Portsmouth. Why did you not come from
+Portsmouth?" Frank asked, or my Lord Viscount, as he now must be called.
+
+Esmond had thought of that too. He would have given one of his eyes so
+that he might see his dear friends again once more; but believing that
+his mistress had forbidden him her house, he had obeyed her, and
+remained at a distance.
+
+"You had but to ask, and you knew I would be here," he said.
+
+She gave him her hand, her little fair hand: there was only her marriage
+ring on it. The quarrel was all over. The year of grief and estrangement
+was passed. They never had been separated. His mistress had never been
+out of his mind all that time. No, not once. No, not in the prison; nor
+in the camp; nor on shore before the enemy; nor at sea under the stars
+of solemn midnight; nor as he watched the glorious rising of the dawn:
+not even at the table, where he sat carousing with friends, or at the
+theatre yonder, where he tried to fancy that other eyes were brighter
+than hers. Brighter eyes there might be, and faces more beautiful, but
+none so dear--no voice so sweet as that of his beloved mistress, who had
+been sister, mother, goddess to him during his youth--goddess now no
+more, for he knew of her weaknesses; and by thought, by suffering, and
+that experience it brings, was older now than she; but more fondly
+cherished as woman perhaps than ever she had been adored as divinity.
+What is it? Where lies it? the secret which makes one little hand the
+dearest of all? Who ever can unriddle that mystery? Here she was, her
+son by his side, his dear boy. Here she was, weeping and happy. She took
+his hand in both hers; he felt her tears. It was a rapture of
+reconciliation....
+
+"And Harry's coming home to supper. Huzzay! huzzay!" cries my lord.
+"Mother, I shall run home and bid Beatrix put her ribbons on. Beatrix is
+a maid of honor, Harry. Such a fine set-up minx!"
+
+"Your heart was never in the Church, Harry," the widow said, in her
+sweet low tone, as they walked away together. (Now, it seemed they had
+never been parted, and again, as if they had been ages asunder.) "I
+always thought you had no vocation that way; and that 'twas a pity to
+shut you out from the world. You would but have pined and chafed at
+Castlewood: and 'tis better you should make a name for yourself. I often
+said so to my dear lord. How he loved you! 'Twas my lord that made you
+stay with us."
+
+"I asked no better than to stay near you always," said Mr. Esmond.
+
+"But to go was best, Harry. When the world cannot give peace, you will
+know where to find it; but one of your strong imagination and eager
+desires must try the world first before he tires of it. 'Twas not to be
+thought of, or if it once was, it was only by my selfishness, that you
+should remain as chaplain to a country gentleman and tutor to a little
+boy. You are of the blood of the Esmonds, kinsman; and that was always
+wild in youth. Look at Francis. He is but fifteen, and I scarce can keep
+him in my nest. His talk is all of war and pleasure, and he longs to
+serve in the next campaign. Perhaps he and the young Lord Churchill
+shall go the next. Lord Marlborough has been good to us. You know how
+kind they were in my misfortune. And so was your--your father's widow.
+No one knows how good the world is, till grief comes to try us. 'Tis
+through my Lady Marlborough's goodness that Beatrix hath her place at
+Court; and Frank is under my Lord Chamberlain. And the dowager lady,
+your father's widow, has promised to provide for you--has she not?"
+
+Esmond said, "Yes. As far as present favor went, Lady Castlewood was
+very good to him. And should her mind change," he added gaily, "as
+ladies' minds will, I am strong enough to bear my own burden, and make
+my way somehow. Not by the sword very likely. Thousands have a better
+genius for that than I, but there are many ways in which a young man of
+good parts and education can get on in the world; and I am pretty sure,
+one way or other, of promotion!" Indeed, he had found patrons already
+in the army, and amongst persons very able to serve him, too; and told
+his mistress of the flattering aspect of fortune. They walked as though
+they had never been parted, slowly, with the grey twilight closing
+round them.
+
+"And now we are drawing near to home," she continued, "I knew you would
+come, Harry, if--if it was but to forgive me for having spoken unjustly
+to you after that horrid--horrid misfortune. I was half frantic with
+grief then when I saw you. And I know now--they have told me. That
+wretch, whose name I can never mention, even has said it: how you tried
+to avert the quarrel, and would have taken it on yourself, my poor
+child: but it was God's will that I should be punished, and that my dear
+lord should fall."
+
+"He gave me his blessing on his death-bed," Esmond said. "Thank God for
+that legacy!"
+
+"Amen, amen! dear Henry," said the lady, pressing his arm. "I knew it.
+Mr. Atterbury, of St. Bride's, who was called to him, told me so. And I
+thanked God, too, and in my prayers ever since remembered it."
+
+"You had spared me many a bitter night, had you told me sooner," Mr.
+Esmond said.
+
+"I know it, I know it," she answered, in a tone of such sweet humility,
+as made Esmond repent that he should ever have dared to reproach her. "I
+know how wicked my heart has been; and I have suffered too, my dear.
+But I knew you would come back--I own that. And to-day, Henry, in the
+anthem, when they sang it, 'When the Lord turned the captivity of Zion,
+we were like them that dream,' I thought yes, like them that dream--them
+that dream. And then it went, 'They that sow in tears shall reap in joy;
+and he that goeth forth and weepeth, shall doubtless come again with
+rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him;' I looked up from the book and
+saw you. I was not surprised when I saw you. I knew you would come, my
+dear, and saw the gold sunshine round your head."
+
+She smiled an almost wild smile as she looked up at him. The moon was up
+by this time, glittering keen in the frosty sky. He could see, for the
+first time now clearly, her sweet careworn face.
+
+"Do you know what day it is?" she continued. "It is the 29th day of
+December--it is your birthday! But last year we did not drink it--no,
+no. My lord was cold, and my Harry was likely to die: and my brain
+was in a fever; and we had no wine. But now--now you are come again,
+bringing your sheaves with you, my dear." She burst into a wild flood
+of weeping as she spoke; she laughed and sobbed on the young man's
+heart, crying out wildly, "bringing your sheaves with you--your sheaves
+with you!"
+
+As he had sometimes felt, gazing up from the deck at midnight into the
+boundless starlit depths overhead, in a rapture of devout wonder at
+that endless brightness and beauty--in some such a way now, the depth
+of this pure devotion quite smote upon him, and filled his heart with
+thanksgiving. Gracious God, who was he, weak and friendless creature,
+that such a love should be poured out upon him? Not in vain--not in
+vain has he lived--hard and thankless should he be to think so--that
+has such a treasure given him. What is ambition compared to that, but
+selfish vanity? To be rich, to be famous? What do these profit a year
+hence, when other names sound louder than yours, when you lie hidden
+away under the ground, along with idle titles engraven on your coffin?
+But only true love lives after you--follows your memory with secret
+blessing--or precedes you, and intercedes for you. _Non omnis
+moriar_--if dying, I yet live in a tender heart or two; nor am lost
+and hopeless living, if a sainted departed soul still loves and prays
+for me.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[N] _From "The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., a Colonel in the
+Service of Her Majesty Queen Anne. Written by himself."_
+
+The late Lord Castlewood had been killed in a duel, and young Esmond,
+who had lived in his house as a dependant (reputed to have been
+illegitimately related to a former Viscount of Castlewood), devotedly
+attending him at his death-bed, received from the dying man
+confession and proof that he, the supposed obscure orphan, was the
+true inheritor, and in justice ought to have been the possessor, of
+the Castlewood titles and estates. But Esmond, for the love he had
+borne his patron, and from devotion to Lady Castlewood, who had much
+befriended him, immediately destroyed the proofs which were given him
+of his honorable parentage, and ever afterwards kept his claim a
+secret. After the duel, while Esmond was in prison, Lady Castlewood
+visited him, and in the wildness of her grief for her murdered
+husband, reproached her loyal kinsman for not having saved her lord's
+life, or avenged his death. In the estrangement which these
+reproaches occasioned, Esmond sought his fortune abroad in war; but
+subsequently, desiring to learn of the welfare of his mistress and
+her family, whose happiness he prized more than his own, he returned
+to England, and went to Winchester, near which was Walcote, Lady
+Castlewood's home. The family were attending service in the
+cathedral, and there the reconciliation took place.--Esmond had
+formerly been promised the living of Walcote, but the vacancy
+occurring while the estrangement continued. Lady Castlewood had given
+it to one Mr. Tusher.
+
+
+
+
+LXIV. THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.
+
+(DECEMBER, 1697.)
+
+WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN.--1813-1865.
+
+
+    The Rhine is running deep and red, the island lies before,--
+    "Now is there one of all the host will dare to venture o'er?
+    For not alone the river's sweep might make a brave man quail;
+    The foe are on the further side, their shot comes fast as hail.
+    God help us, if the middle isle we may not hope to win!
+    Now is there any of the host will dare to venture in?"
+
+    "The ford is deep, the banks are steep, the island-shore lies wide;
+    Nor man nor horse could stem its force, or reach the further side.
+    See there! amidst the willow-boughs the serried bayonets gleam;
+    They've flung their bridge,--they've won the isle; the foe have
+              cross'd the stream!
+    Their volley flashes sharp and strong,--by all the saints! I trow
+    There never yet was soldier born could force that passage now!"
+
+    So spoke the bold French Mareschal with him who led the van,
+    Whilst rough and red before their view the turbid river ran.
+    Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross the wild and swollen Rhine,
+    And thundering on the other bank far stretch'd the German line.
+    Hard by there stood a swarthy man was leaning on his sword,
+    And a sadden'd smile lit up his face as he heard the Captain's word.
+    "I've seen a wilder stream ere now than that which rushes there;
+    I've stemm'd a heavier torrent yet and never thought to dare.
+    If German steel be sharp and keen, is ours not strong and true?
+    There may be danger in the deed, but there is honor too."
+
+    The old lord in his saddle turn'd, and hastily he said,
+    "Hath bold Duguesclin's fiery heart awaken'd from the dead?
+    Thou art the leader of the Scots,--now well and sure I know,
+    That gentle blood in dangerous hour ne'er yet ran cold nor slow,
+    And I have seen ye in the fight do all that mortal may:
+    If honor is the boon ye seek, it may be won this day,--
+    The prize is in the middle isle, there lies the adventurous way,
+    And armies twain are on the plain, the daring deed to see,--
+    Now ask thy gallant company if they will follow thee!"
+
+    Right gladsome look'd the Captain then, and nothing did he say,
+    But he turn'd him to his little band,--O, few, I ween, were they!
+    The relics of the bravest force that ever fought in fray.
+    No one of all that company but bore a gentle name,
+    Not one whose fathers had not stood in Scotland's fields of fame.
+    All they had march'd with great Dundee to where he fought and fell,
+    And in the deadly battle-strife had venged their leader well:
+    And they had bent the knee to earth when every eye was dim,
+    As o'er their hero's buried corpse they sang the funeral hymn;
+    And they had trod the Pass once more, and stoop'd on either side
+    To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropp'd and died;
+    And they had bound it next their hearts, and ta'en a last farewell
+    Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, where Scotland's glory fell.
+    Then went they forth to foreign lands like bent and broken men,
+    Who leave their dearest hope behind, and may not turn again.
+
+    "The stream," he said, "is broad and deep, and stubborn is
+              the foe,--
+    Yon island-strength is guarded well,--say, brothers, will ye go?
+    From home and kin for many a year our steps have wander'd wide,
+    And never may our bones be laid our fathers' graves beside.
+    No children have we to lament, no wives to wail our fall;
+    The traitor's and the spoiler's hand have reft our hearths of all.
+    But we have hearts, and we have arms, as strong to will and dare
+    As when our ancient banners flew within the northern air.
+    Come, brothers! let me name a spell shall rouse your souls again,
+    And send the old blood bounding free through pulse and heart
+              and vein.
+    Call back the days of bygone years,--be young and strong once more;
+    Think yonder stream, so stark and red, is one we've cross'd before.
+    Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! rise up on either hand,--
+    Again upon the Garry's banks, on Scottish soil we stand!
+    Again I see the tartans wave, again the trumpets ring;
+    Again I hear our leader's call: 'Upon them for the King!'
+    Stay'd we behind that glorious day for roaring flood or linn?
+    The soul of Græme is with us still,--now, brothers, will ye in?"
+
+    No stay,--no pause. With one accord, they grasp'd each other's hand,
+    Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless band.
+    High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore,
+    Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell, and shot, and
+              cannon-roar,--
+    "Now, by the Holy Cross! I swear, since earth and sea began,
+    Was never such a daring deed essay'd by mortal man!"
+
+    Thick blew the smoke across the stream, and faster flash'd the
+              flame:
+    The water plash'd in hissing jets as ball and bullet came.
+    Yet onwards push'd the Cavaliers all stern and undismay'd,
+    With thousand armèd foes before, and none behind to aid.
+    Once, as they near'd the middle stream, so strong the torrent swept,
+    That scarce that long and living wall their dangerous footing kept.
+    Then rose a warning cry behind, a joyous shout before:
+    "The current's strong,--the way is long,--they'll never reach the
+              shore!
+    See, see! they stagger in the midst, they waver in their line!
+    Fire on the madmen! break their ranks, and whelm them in the Rhine!"
+
+    Have you seen the tall trees swaying when the blast is sounding
+              shrill,
+    And the whirlwind reels in fury down the gorges of the hill?
+    How they toss their mighty branches struggling with the tempest's
+              shock;
+    How they keep their place of vantage, cleaving firmly to the rock?
+    Even so the Scottish warriors held their own against the river;
+    Though the water flash'd around them, not an eye was seen to quiver;
+    Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, not a man relax'd his hold;
+    For their hearts were big and thrilling with the mighty thoughts
+              of old.
+    One word was spoke among them, and through the ranks it spread,--
+    "Remember our dead Claverhouse!" was all the Captain said.
+    Then, sternly bending forward, they wrestled on a while,
+    Until they clear'd the heavy stream, then rush'd towards the isle.
+
+    The German heart is stout and true, the German arm is strong;
+    The German foot goes seldom back where armèd foemen throng.
+    But never had they faced in field so stern a charge before,
+    And never had they felt the sweep of Scotland's broad claymore.
+    Not fiercer pours the avalanche adown the steep incline,
+    That rises o'er the parent-springs of rough and rapid Rhine,--
+    Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven than came the Scottish
+              band
+    Right up against the guarded trench, and o'er it sword in hand.
+    In vain their leaders forward press,--they meet the deadly brand!
+
+    O lonely island of the Rhine,--where seed was never sown,
+    What harvest lay upon thy sands, by those strong reapers thrown?
+    What saw the winter moon that night, as, struggling through the
+              rain,
+    She pour'd a wan and fitful light on marsh, and stream, and plain?
+    A dreary spot with corpses strewn, and bayonets glistening round;
+    A broken bridge, a stranded boat, a bare and batter'd mound;
+    And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile, that sent its quivering
+              glare
+    To tell the leaders of the host the conquering Scots were there!
+
+    And did they twine the laurel-wreath, for those who fought so well?
+    And did they honor those who liv'd, and weep for those who fell?
+    What meed of thanks was given to them let agèd annals tell.
+    Why should they bring the laurel-wreath,--why crown the cup with
+              wine?
+    It was not Frenchmen's blood that flow'd so freely on the Rhine,--
+    A stranger band of beggar'd men had done the venturous deed:
+    The glory was to France alone, the danger was their meed.
+    And what cared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and peer?
+    What virtue had such honey'd words the exiled heart to cheer?
+    What matter'd it that men should vaunt and loud and fondly swear,
+    That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere?
+    They bore within their breasts the grief that fame can never heal,--
+    The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel.
+    Their hearts were yearning for the land they ne'er might see
+              again,--
+    For Scotland's high and heather'd hills, for mountain, loch and
+              glen--
+    For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea,
+    Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be!
+
+    Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rhine's tempestuous flood
+    Has ta'en another name from those who bought it with their blood:
+
+    And, though the legend does not live,--for legends lightly die--
+    The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by,
+    And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot
+    Won by the warriors of the sword, stills calls that deep and
+              dangerous ford
+        The Passage of the Scot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Sacrifice and Self-Devotion hallow earth and fill the skies._
+
+        LORD HOUGHTON.--1809-1885.
+
+
+
+
+LXV. THE GAMBLING PARTY.
+
+EARL OF BEACONSFIELD.--1805-1881.
+
+_From_ THE YOUNG DUKE.
+
+
+The young Duke had accepted the invitation of the Baron de Berghem for
+to-morrow, and accordingly, himself, Lords Castlefort and Dice, and
+Temple Grace assembled in Brunswick Terrace at the usual hour. The
+dinner was studiously plain, and very little wine was drunk; yet
+everything was perfect. Tom Cogit stepped in to carve in his usual
+silent manner. He always came in and went out of a room without anyone
+observing him. He winked familiarly to Temple Grace, but scarcely
+presumed to bow to the Duke. He was very busy about the wine, and
+dressed the wild fowl in a manner quite unparalleled. He took particular
+care to send a most perfect portion to the young Duke, and he did this,
+as he paid all attentions to influential strangers, with the most marked
+consciousness of the sufferance which permitted his presence: never
+addressing his Grace, but audibly whispering to the servant, "Take this
+to the Duke"; or asking the attendant, "whether his Grace would try the
+Hermitage?"
+
+After dinner, with the exception of Cogit, who was busied in compounding
+some wonderful liquid for the future refreshment, they sat down to
+_écarté_. Without having exchanged a word upon the subject, there seemed
+a general understanding among all the parties that to-night was to be a
+pitched battle, and they began at once, briskly. Yet, in spite of their
+universal determination, midnight arrived without anything decisive.
+Another hour passed over, and then Tom Cogit kept touching the Baron's
+elbow and whispering in a voice which everybody could understand. All
+this meant that supper was ready. It was brought into the room.
+
+Gaming has one advantage, it gives you an appetite; that is to say, so
+long as you have a chance remaining. The Duke had thousands; for at
+present his resources were unimpared, and he was exhausted by the
+constant attention and anxiety of five hours. He passed over the
+delicacies and went to the side-table, and began cutting himself some
+cold roast beef. Tom Cogit ran up, not to his Grace, but to the Baron,
+to announce the shocking fact that the Duke of St. James was enduring
+great trouble; and then the Baron asked his Grace to permit Mr. Cogit to
+serve him. Our hero devoured: we use the word advisedly, as fools say in
+the House of Commons: he devoured the roast beef, and rejecting the
+Hermitage with disgust, asked for porter.
+
+They set to again fresh as eagles. At six o'clock accounts were so
+complicated that they stopped to make up their books. Each played with
+his memoranda and pencil at his side. Nothing fatal had yet happened.
+The Duke owed Lord Dice about five thousand pounds, and Temple Grace
+owed him as many hundreds. Lord Castlefort also was his debtor to the
+tune of seven hundred and fifty, and the Baron was in his books, but
+slightly. Every half-hour they had a new pack of cards, and threw the
+used one on the floor. All this time Tom Cogit did nothing but snuff the
+candles, stir the fire, bring them a new pack, and occasionally make a
+tumbler for them. At eight o'clock the Duke's situation was worsened.
+The run was greatly against him, and perhaps his losses were doubled. He
+pulled up again the next hour or two; but nevertheless, at ten o'clock,
+owed every one something. No one offered to give over; and everyone,
+perhaps, felt that his object was not obtained. They made their toilets
+and went down-stairs to breakfast. In the meantime the shutters were
+opened, the room aired, and in less than an hour they were at it again.
+
+They played till dinner-time without intermission; and though the Duke
+made some desperate efforts, and some successful ones, his losses were,
+nevertheless, trebled. Yet he ate an excellent dinner and was not at all
+depressed; because the more he lost, the more his courage and his
+resources seemed to expand. At first he had limited himself to ten
+thousand; after breakfast it was to have been twenty thousand; then
+thirty thousand was the ultimatum; and now he dismissed all thoughts of
+limits from his mind, and was determined to risk or gain everything.
+
+At midnight, he had lost forty-eight thousand pounds. Affairs now began
+to be serious. His supper was not so hearty. While the rest were eating,
+he walked about the room, and began to limit his ambition to recovery,
+and not to gain. When you play to win back, the fun is over: there is
+nothing to recompense you for your bodily tortures and your degraded
+feelings; and the very best result that can happen, while it has no
+charms, seems to your cowed mind impossible.
+
+On they played, and the Duke lost more. His mind was jaded. He
+floundered, he made desperate efforts, but plunged deeper in the
+slough. Feeling that, to regain his ground, each card must tell, he
+acted on each as if it must win, and the consequences of this
+insanity (for a gamester at such a crisis is really insane) were,
+that his losses were prodigious.
+
+Another morning came, and there they sat, ankle-deep in cards. No
+attempt at breakfast now, no affectation of making a toilet or airing
+the room. The atmosphere was hot, to be sure, but it well became such
+a Hell. There they sat, in total, in positive forgetfulness of
+everything but the hot game they were hunting down. There was not a
+man in the room, except Tom Cogit, who could have told you the name of
+the town in which they were living. There they sat, almost breathless,
+watching every turn with the fell look in their cannibal eyes which
+showed their total inability to sympathize with their fellow-beings.
+All forms of society had been long forgotten. There was no snuff-box
+handed about now, for courtesy, admiration, or a pinch; no affectation
+of occasionally making a remark upon any other topic but the
+all-engrossing one. Lord Castlefort rested with his arms on the table:
+a false tooth had got unhinged. His Lordship, who, at any other time,
+would have been most annoyed, coolly put it in his pocket. His cheeks
+had fallen, and he looked twenty years older. Lord Dice had torn off
+his cravat, and his hair hung down over his callous, bloodless cheeks,
+straight as silk. Temple Grace looked as if he were blighted by
+lightning; and his deep blue eyes gleamed like a hyena's. The Baron
+was least changed. Tom Cogit, who smelt that the crisis was at hand,
+was as quiet as a bribed rat.
+
+On they played till six o'clock in the evening, and then they agreed to
+desist till after dinner. Lord Dice threw himself on a sofa. Lord
+Castlefort breathed with difficulty. The rest walked about. While they
+were resting on their oars, the young Duke roughly made up his accounts.
+He found that he was minus about one hundred thousand pounds.
+
+Immense as this loss was, he was more struck, more appalled, let us
+say, at the strangeness of the surrounding scene, than even by his own
+ruin. As he looked upon his fellow gamesters, he seemed, for the first
+time in his life, to gaze upon some of those hideous demons of whom he
+had read. He looked in the mirror at himself. A blight seemed to have
+fallen over his beauty, and his presence seemed accursed. He had
+pursued a dissipated, even more than a dissipated career. Many were
+the nights that had been spent by him not on his couch; great had been
+the exhaustion that he had often experienced; haggard had sometimes
+even been the lustre of his youth. But when had been marked upon his
+brow this harrowing care? when had his features before been stamped
+with this anxiety, this anguish, this baffled desire, this strange
+unearthly scowl, which made him even tremble? What! was it possible?
+it could not be, that in time he was to be like those awful, those
+unearthly, those unhallowed things that were around him. He felt as if
+he had fallen from his state, as if he had dishonored his ancestry, as
+if he had betrayed his trust. He felt a criminal. In the darkness of
+his meditations a flash burst from his lurid mind, a celestial light
+appeared to dissipate this thickening gloom, and his soul felt as if
+it were bathed with the softening radiancy. He thought of May Dacre,
+he thought of everything that was pure, and holy, and beautiful, and
+luminous, and calm. It was the innate virtue of the man that made this
+appeal to his corrupted nature. His losses seemed nothing; his dukedom
+would be too slight a ransom for freedom from these ghouls, and for
+the breath of the sweet air.
+
+He advanced to the Baron, and expressed his desire to play no more.
+There was an immediate stir. All jumped up, and now the deed was done.
+Cant, in spite of their exhaustion, assumed her reign. They begged him
+to have his revenge, were quite annoyed at the result, had no doubt he
+would recover if he proceeded. Without noticing their remarks, he seated
+himself at the table, and wrote cheques for their respective amounts,
+Tom Cogit jumping up and bringing him the inkstand. Lord Castlefort, in
+the most affectionate manner, pocketed the draft; at the same time
+recommending the Duke not to be in a hurry, but to send it when he was
+cool. Lord Dice received his with a bow, Temple Grace with a sigh, the
+Baron with an avowal of his readiness always to give him his revenge.
+
+The Duke, though sick at heart, would not leave the room with any
+evidence of a broken spirit; and when Lord Castlefort again repeated,
+"Pay us when we meet again," he said, "I think it very improbable that
+we shall meet again, my Lord. I wished to know what gaming was. I had
+heard a great deal about it. It is not so very disgusting; but I am a
+young man, and cannot play tricks with my complexion."
+
+He reached his house. He gave orders for himself not to be disturbed,
+and he went to bed; but in vain he tried to sleep. What rack exceeds the
+torture of an excited brain and an exhausted body? His hands and feet
+were like ice, his brow like fire; his ears rung with supernatural
+roaring; a nausea had seized upon him, and death he would have welcomed.
+In vain, in vain he courted repose; in vain, in vain he had recourse to
+every expedient to wile himself to slumber. Each minute he started from
+his pillow with some phrase which reminded him of his late fearful
+society. Hour after hour moved on with its leaden pace; each hour he
+heard strike, and each hour seemed an age. Each hour was only a signal
+to cast off some covering, or shift his position. It was, at length,
+morning. With a feeling that he should go mad if he remained any longer
+in bed, he rose, and paced his chamber. The air refreshed him. He threw
+himself on the floor; the cold crept over his senses, and he slept.
+
+
+
+
+LXVI. THE PICKWICKIANS DISPORT THEMSELVES ON ICE.[O]
+
+CHARLES DICKENS.--1812-1870.
+
+_From_ THE POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF THE PICKWICK CLUB.
+
+
+"Now," said Wardle, after a substantial lunch had been done ample
+justice to; "what say you to an hour on the ice? We shall have plenty
+of time."
+
+"Capital!" said Mr. Benjamin Allen.
+
+"Prime!" ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer.
+
+"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.
+
+"Ye-yes; oh, yes," replied Mr. Winkle. "I--I--am _rather_ out of
+practice."
+
+"Oh, _do_ skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I like to see it so much."
+
+"Oh, it is _so_ graceful," said another young lady.
+
+A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed her
+opinion that it was "swan-like."
+
+"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening; "but I
+have no skates."
+
+This objection was at once over-ruled. Trundle had a couple of pair, and
+the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more down stairs:
+whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely
+uncomfortable.
+
+Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and the fat boy
+and Mr. Weller, having shovelled and swept away the snow which had
+fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a
+dexterity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvellous, and described
+circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed upon
+the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant
+and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick,
+Mr. Tupman, and the ladies: which reached a pitch of positive
+enthusiasm, when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by the
+aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions, which they
+called a reel.
+
+All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold,
+had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his
+skates on, with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very
+complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass,
+who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however,
+with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly
+screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.
+
+"Now, then, sir," said Sam, in an encouraging tone; "off vith you, and
+show 'em how to do it."
+
+"Stop, Sam, stop!" said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching
+hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. "How slippery it
+is, Sam!"
+
+"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "Hold up,
+sir!"
+
+This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demonstration
+Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet in
+the air, and dash the back of his head on the ice.
+
+"These--these--are very awkward skates; ain't they, Sam?" inquired Mr.
+Winkle, staggering.
+
+"I'm afeerd there's a orkard gen'l'm'n in 'em, sir," replied Sam.
+
+"Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was
+anything the matter. "Come; the ladies are all anxiety."
+
+"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. "I'm coming."
+
+"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to disengage himself.
+"Now, sir, start off!"
+
+"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately
+to Mr. Weller. "I find I've got a couple of coats at home that I don't
+want, Sam. You may have them, Sam."
+
+"Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
+
+"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, hastily. "You
+needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five
+shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it you this
+afternoon, Sam."
+
+"You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
+
+"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr. Winkle. "There--that's
+right. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not
+too fast."
+
+Mr. Winkle stooping forward, with his body half doubled up, was being
+assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like
+manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite
+bank:
+
+"Sam!"
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"Here. I want you."
+
+"Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the governor a callin'? Let
+go, sir."
+
+With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of
+the agonized Pickwickian, and, in so doing, administered a considerable
+impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of
+dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman
+bore swiftly down into the centre of the reel, at the very moment when
+Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr.
+Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell
+heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his
+feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind, in
+skates. He was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile;
+but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.
+
+"Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety.
+
+"Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very hard.
+
+"I wish you'd let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin, with great
+eagerness.
+
+"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle hurriedly.
+
+"I really think you had better," said Allen.
+
+"Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle; "I'd rather not."
+
+"What do _you_ think, Mr. Pickwick?" inquired Bob Sawyer.
+
+Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, and
+said in a stern voice, "Take his skates off."
+
+"No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated Mr. Winkle.
+
+"Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick firmly.
+
+The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it in
+silence.
+
+"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise.
+
+Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders; and
+beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him,
+and uttered in a low, but distinct and emphatic tone, these
+remarkable words:
+
+"You're a humbug, sir."
+
+"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.
+
+"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir."
+
+With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel, and rejoined
+his friends.
+
+While Mr. Pickwick was delivering himself of the sentiment just
+recorded, Mr. Weller and the fat boy, having by their joint endeavors
+cut out a slide, were exercising themselves thereupon, in a very
+masterly and brilliant manner. Sam Weller, in particular, was displaying
+that beautiful feat of fancy-sliding which is currently denominated
+"knocking at the cobbler's door," and which is achieved by skimming over
+the ice on one foot, and occasionally giving a postman's knock upon it
+with the other. It was a good long slide, and there was something in the
+motion which Mr. Pickwick, who was very cold with standing still, could
+not help envying.
+
+"It looks a nice warm exercise that, doesn't it?" he inquired of Wardle,
+when that gentleman was thoroughly out of breath, by reason of the
+indefatigable manner in which he had converted his legs into a pair of
+compasses, and drawn complicated problems on the ice.
+
+"Ah, it does indeed," replied Wardle. "Do you slide?"
+
+"I used to do so on the gutters, when I was a boy," replied
+Mr. Pickwick.
+
+"Try it now," said Wardle.
+
+"Oh do, please, Mr. Pickwick!" cried all the ladies.
+
+"I should be very happy to afford you any amusement," replied Mr.
+Pickwick, "but I haven't done such a thing these thirty years."
+
+"Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!" said Wardle, dragging off his skates with the
+impetuosity which characterized all his proceedings. "Here; I'll keep
+you company; come along!" And away went the good tempered old fellow
+down the slide, with a rapidity which came very close upon Mr. Weller,
+and beat the fat boy all to nothing.
+
+Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves and put them in
+his hat: took two or three short runs, baulked himself as often, and at
+last took another run, and went slowly and gravely down the slide, with
+his feet about a yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified shouts
+of all the spectators.
+
+"Keep the pot a bilin', sir!" said Sam; and down went Wardle again, and
+then Mr. Pickwick, and then Sam, and then Mr. Winkle, and then Mr. Bob
+Sawyer, and then the fat boy, and then Mr. Snodgrass, following closely
+upon each other's heels, and running after each other with as much
+eagerness as if all their future prospects in life depended on their
+expedition.
+
+It was the most intensely interesting thing, to observe the manner in
+which Mr. Pickwick performed his share in the ceremony; to watch the
+torture of anxiety with which he viewed the person behind, gaining upon
+him at the imminent hazard of tripping him up; to see him gradually
+expend the painful force he had put on at first, and turn slowly round
+on the slide, with his face towards the point from which he had started;
+to contemplate the playful smile which mantled on his face when he had
+accomplished the distance, and the eagerness with which he turned round
+when he had done so, and ran after his predecessor: his black gaiters
+tripping pleasantly through the snow, and his eyes beaming cheerfulness
+and gladness through his spectacles. And when he was knocked down (which
+happened upon the average every third round), it was the most
+invigorating sight that can possibly be imagined, to behold him gather
+up his hat, gloves, and handkerchief, with a glowing countenance, and
+resume his station in the rank, with an ardor and enthusiasm that
+nothing could abate.
+
+The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the quickest, the
+laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp smart crack was heard. There
+was a quick rush towards the bank, a wild scream from the ladies, and a
+shout from Mr. Tupman. A large mass of ice disappeared; the water
+bubbled up over it; Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, and handkerchief were
+floating on the surface; and this was all of Mr. Pickwick that anybody
+could see.
+
+Dismay and anguish were depicted on every countenance, the males turned
+pale, and the females fainted, Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle grasped
+each other by the hand, and gazed at the spot where their leader had
+gone down, with frenzied eagerness: while Mr. Tupman, by way of
+rendering the promptest assistance, and at the same time conveying to
+any persons who might be within hearing, the clearest possible notion of
+the catastrophe, ran off across the country at his utmost speed,
+screaming "Fire!" with all his might.
+
+It was at this moment, when old Wardle and Sam Weller were approaching
+the hole with cautious steps, and Mr. Benjamin Allen was holding a
+hurried consultation with Mr. Bob Sawyer on the advisability of bleeding
+the company generally, as an improving little bit of professional
+practice--it was at this very moment, that a face, head, and shoulders,
+emerged from beneath the water, and disclosed the features and
+spectacles of Mr. Pickwick.
+
+"Keep yourself up for an instant--for only one instant!" bawled Mr.
+Snodgrass.
+
+"Yes, do; let me implore you--for my sake!" roared Mr. Winkle, deeply
+affected. The adjuration was rather unnecessary; the probability being,
+that if Mr. Pickwick had declined to keep himself up for anybody else's
+sake, it would have occurred to him that he might as well do so, for
+his own.
+
+"Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow?" said Wardle.
+
+"Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the water from his head
+and face, and gasping for breath. "I fell upon my back. I couldn't get
+on my feet at first."
+
+The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was yet visible, bore
+testimony to the accuracy of this statement; and as the fears of the
+spectators were still further relieved by the fat boy's suddenly
+recollecting that the water was nowhere more than five feet deep,
+prodigies of valor were performed to get him out. After a vast quantity
+of splashing, and cracking, and struggling, Mr. Pickwick was at length
+fairly extricated from his unpleasant position, and once more stood on
+dry land.
+
+"Oh, he'll catch his death of cold," said Emily.
+
+"Dear old thing!" said Arabella. "Let me wrap this shawl round you,
+Mr. Pickwick."
+
+"Ah, that's the best thing you can do," said Wardle; "and when you've
+got it on, run home as fast as your legs can carry you, and jump into
+bed directly."
+
+A dozen shawls were offered on the instant. Three or four of the
+thickest having been selected, Mr. Pickwick was wrapped up, and
+started off, under the guidance of Mr. Weller: presenting the
+singular phenomenon of an elderly gentleman, dripping wet, and
+without a hat, with his arms bound down to his sides, skimming
+over the ground, without any clearly defined purpose, at the
+rate of six good English miles an hour.
+
+But Mr. Pickwick cared not for appearances in such an extreme case, and
+urged on by Sam Weller, he kept at the very top of his speed until he
+reached the door of Manor Farm, where Mr. Tupman had arrived some five
+minutes before, and had frightened the old lady into palpitations of the
+heart by impressing her with the unalterable conviction that the kitchen
+chimney was on fire--a calamity which always presented itself in glowing
+colors to the old lady's mind, when anybody about her evinced the
+smallest agitation.
+
+Mr. Pickwick paused not an instant until he was snug in bed. Sam Weller
+lighted a blazing fire in his room, and took up his dinner, and
+afterwards a great rejoicing was held in honor of his safety.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[O] MR. PICKWICK, a benevolent, simple-minded old gentleman, is the
+founder of the Pickwick Club. He and three other members, Mr. Winkle,
+Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Tupman, form the Corresponding Society of the
+club, and they travel over England together, meeting with many
+laughable adventures. They are accompanied by Samuel Weller, Mr.
+Pickwick's servant, an inimitable compound of cool impudence, quaint
+humor, and fidelity. The Pickwickians have accepted the invitation of
+Mr. Wardle, of Manor Farm, Dingley Dell, to be present at the
+marriage of his daughter, Isabella, to Mr. Trundle. Among the guests
+are also Mr. Bob Sawyer and Mr. Benjamin Allen, two medical students,
+and Mr. Allen's sister, Arabella. Other members of Mr. Wardle's
+household are Mr. Wardle's mother, the "old lady" of Manor Farm, his
+daughter, Emily, and Joe, a servant lad, known as the "fat boy." The
+wedding takes place on the twenty-third of December, and then follow
+the Christmas festivities, of which the skating forms a part.
+
+
+
+
+LXVII. THE HANGING OF THE CRANE.
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.--1807-1882.
+
+
+I.
+
+    The lights are out, and gone are all the guests
+    That thronging came with merriment and jests
+      To celebrate the Hanging of the Crane
+    In the new house,--into the night are gone;
+    But still the fire upon the hearth burns on,
+        And I alone remain.
+
+        O fortunate, O happy day,
+        When a new household finds its place
+        Among the myriad homes of earth,
+        Like a new star just sprung to birth,
+        And roll'd on its harmonious way
+        Into the boundless realms of space!
+        So said the guests in speech and song,
+        As in the chimney, burning bright,
+        We hung the iron crane to-night,
+        And merry was the feast and long.
+
+
+II.
+
+    And now I sit and muse on what may be,
+    And in my vision see, or seem to see,
+      Through floating vapors interfused with light,
+    Shapes indeterminate, that gleam and fade,
+    As shadows passing into deeper shade
+        Sink and elude the sight.
+
+        For two alone, there in the hall,
+        Is spread the table round and small;
+        Upon the polish'd silver shine
+        The evening lamps, but, more divine,
+        The light of love shines over all;
+        Of love, that says not mine and thine,
+        But ours, for ours is thine and mine.
+
+        They want no guests, to come between
+        Their tender glances like a screen,
+        And tell them tales of land and sea,
+        And whatsoever may betide
+        The great, forgotten world outside;
+        They want no guests; they needs must be
+        Each other's own best company.
+
+
+III.
+
+    The picture fades; as at a village fair
+    A showman's views, dissolving into air,
+      Again appear transfigured on the screen,
+    So in my fancy this; and now once more,
+    In part transfigured, through the open door
+        Appears the selfsame scene.
+
+        Seated, I see the two again,
+        But not alone; they entertain
+        A little angel unaware,
+        With face as round as is the moon;
+        A royal guest with flaxen hair,
+        Who, throned upon his lofty chair,
+        Drums on the table with his spoon,
+        Then drops it careless on the floor,
+        To grasp at things unseen before.
+
+        Are these celestial manners? these
+        The ways that win, the arts that please?
+        Ah yes; consider well the guest,
+        And whatsoe'er he does seems best;
+        He ruleth by the right divine
+        Of helplessness, so lately born
+        In purple chambers of the morn,
+        As sovereign over thee and thine.
+        He speaketh not; and yet there lies
+        A conversation in his eyes;
+        The golden silence of the Greek,
+        The gravest wisdom of the wise,
+        Not spoken in language, but in looks
+        More legible than printed books,
+        As if he could but would not speak.
+        And now, O monarch absolute,
+        Thy power is put to proof; for, lo!
+        Resistless, fathomless, and slow,
+        The nurse comes rustling like the sea,
+        And pushes back thy chair and thee,
+        And so good night to King Canute.
+
+
+IV.
+
+    As one who walking in a forest sees
+    A lovely landscape through the parted trees,
+      Then sees it not, for boughs that intervene;
+    Or, as we see the moon sometimes reveal'd
+    Through drifting clouds, and then again conceal'd,
+        So I behold the scene.
+
+        There are two guests at table now;
+        The king, deposed and older grown,
+        No longer occupies the throne,--
+        The crown is on his sister's brow;
+        A Princess from the Fairy Isles,
+        The very pattern girl of girls,
+        All cover'd and embower'd in curls,
+        Rose-tinted from the Isle of Flowers,
+        And sailing with soft, silken sails
+        From far-off Dreamland into ours.
+        Above their bowls with rims of blue
+        Four azure eyes of deeper hue
+        Are looking, dreamy with delight;
+        Limpid as planets that emerge
+        Above the ocean's rounded verge,
+        Soft-shining through the summer night.
+        Steadfast they gaze, yet nothing see
+        Beyond the horizon of their bowls;
+        Nor care they for the world that rolls
+        With all its freight of troubled souls
+        Into the days that are to be.
+
+
+V.
+
+    Again the tossing boughs shut out the scene,
+    Again the drifting vapors intervene,
+      And the moon's pallid disk is hidden quite:
+    And now I see the table wider grown,
+    As round a pebble into water thrown
+        Dilates a ring of light.
+
+        I see the table wider grown,
+        I see it garlanded with guests,
+        As if fair Ariadne's Crown
+        Out of the sky had fallen down;
+        Maidens within whose tender breasts
+        A thousand restless hopes and fears,
+        Forth reaching to the coming years,
+        Flutter awhile, then quiet lie,
+        Like timid birds that fain would fly,
+        But do not dare to leave their nests;--
+        And youths, who in their strength elate
+        Challenge the van and front of fate,
+        Eager as champions to be
+        In the divine knight-errantry
+        Of youth, that travels sea and land
+        Seeking adventures, or pursues,
+        Through cities, and through solitudes
+        Frequented by the lyric Muse,
+        The phantom with the beckoning hand,
+        That still allures and still eludes.
+        O sweet illusions of the brain!
+        O sudden thrills of fire and frost!
+        The world is bright while ye remain,
+        And dark and dead when ye are lost!
+
+
+VI.
+
+    The meadow-brook, that seemeth to stand still,
+    Quickens its current as it nears the mill;
+      And so the stream of Time that lingereth
+    In level places, and so dull appears,
+    Runs with a swifter current as it nears
+      The gloomy mills of Death.
+
+        And now, like the magician's scroll,
+        That in the owner's keeping shrinks
+        With every wish he speaks or thinks,
+        Till the last wish consumes the whole,
+        The table dwindles, and again
+        I see the two alone remain.
+        The crown of stars is broken in parts;
+        Its jewels, brighter than the day,
+        Have one by one been stolen away
+        To shine in other homes and hearts.
+        One is a wanderer now afar
+        In Ceylon or in Zanzibar,
+        Or sunny regions of Cathay;
+        And one is in the boisterous camp
+        Mid clink of arms and horses' tramp,
+        And battle's terrible array.
+        I see the patient mother read,
+        With aching heart, of wrecks that float
+        Disabled on those seas remote,
+        Or of some great heroic deed
+        On battle-fields, where thousands bleed
+        To lift one hero into fame.
+        Anxious she bends her graceful head
+        Above these chronicles of pain,
+        And trembles with a secret dread
+        Lest there among the drown'd or slain
+        She find the one belovèd name.
+
+
+VII.
+
+    After a day of cloud and wind and rain
+    Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,
+      And, touching all the darksome woods with light.
+    Smiles on the fields, until they laugh and sing,
+    Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring
+        Drops down into the night.
+
+        What see I now? The night is fair,
+        The storm of grief, the clouds of care,
+        The wind, the rain, have pass'd away;
+        The lamps are lit, the fires burn bright,
+        The house is full of life and light:
+        It is the Golden Wedding day.
+        The guests come thronging in once more,
+        Quick footsteps sound along the floor,
+        The trooping children crowd the stair,
+        And in and out and everywhere
+        Flashes along the corridor
+        The sunshine of their golden hair.
+
+        On the round table in the hall
+        Another Ariadne's Crown
+        Out of the sky hath fallen down;
+        More than one Monarch of the Moon
+        Is drumming with his silver spoon;
+        The light of love shines over all.
+
+        O fortunate, O happy day!
+        The people sing, the people say.
+        The ancient bridegroom and the bride,
+        Smiling contented and serene,
+        Upon the blithe, bewildering scene,
+        Behold, well pleas'd, on every side
+        Their forms and features multiplied,
+        As the reflection of a light
+        Between two burnish'd mirrors gleams,
+        Or lamps upon a bridge at night
+        Stretch on and on before the sight,
+        Till the long vista endless seems.
+
+
+
+
+LXVIII. EARTHWORMS.
+
+CHARLES DARWIN--1809-1882.
+
+_From_ THE FORMATION OF VEGETABLE MOULD THROUGH THE ACTION OF WORMS.
+
+
+Worms have played a more important part in the history of the world than
+most persons would at first suppose. In almost all humid countries they
+are extraordinarily numerous, and for their size possess great muscular
+power. In many parts of England a weight of more than ten tons of dry
+earth annually passes through their bodies and is brought to the surface
+on each acre of land; so that the whole superficial bed of vegetable
+mould passes through their bodies in the course of every few years. From
+the collapsing of the old burrows the mould is in constant though slow
+movement, and the particles composing it are thus rubbed together. By
+these means fresh surfaces are continually exposed to the action of the
+carbonic acid in the soil, and of the humus-acids which appear to be
+still more efficient in the decomposition of rocks. The generation of
+the humus-acids is probably hastened during the digestion of the many
+half-decayed leaves which worms consume. Thus the particles of earth,
+forming the superficial mould, are subjected to conditions eminently
+favorable for their decomposition and disintegration. Moreover, the
+particles of the softer rocks suffer some amount of mechanical
+trituration in the muscular gizzards of worms, in which small stones
+serve as mill-stones....
+
+Archæologists ought to be grateful to worms, as they protect and
+preserve for an indefinitely long period every object, not liable to
+decay, which is dropped on the surface of the land, by burying it
+beneath their castings. Thus, also, many elegant and curious tesselated
+pavements and other ancient remains have been preserved; though no doubt
+the worms have in these cases been largely aided by earth washed and
+blown from the adjoining land, especially when cultivated. The old
+tesselated pavements have, however, often suffered by having subsided
+unequally from being unequally undermined by the worms. Even old massive
+walls may be undermined and subside; and no building is in this respect
+safe, unless the foundations lie six or seven feet beneath the surface,
+at a depth at which worms cannot work. It is probable that many
+monoliths and some old walls have fallen down from having been
+undermined by worms.
+
+Worms prepare the ground in an excellent manner for the growth of
+fibrous-rooted plants and for seedlings of all kinds. They periodically
+expose the mould to the air, and sift it so that no stones larger than
+the particles which they can swallow are left in it. They mingle the
+whole intimately together, like a gardener who prepares fine soil for
+his choicest plants. In this state it is well fitted to retain moisture
+and to absorb all soluble substances, as well as for the process of
+nitrification. The bones of dead animals, the harder parts of insects,
+the shells of land-molluscs, leaves, twigs, etc., are before long all
+buried beneath the accumulated castings of worms, and are thus brought
+in a more or less decayed state within reach of the roots of plants.
+Worms likewise drag an infinite number of dead leaves and other parts of
+plants into their burrows, partly for the sake of plugging them up and
+partly as food.
+
+The leaves which are dragged into the burrows as food, after being
+torn into the finest shreds, partially digested, and saturated with
+the intestinal secretions, are commingled with much earth. This
+earth forms the dark-colored, rich humus which almost everywhere
+covers the surface of the land with a fairly well-defined layer or
+mantle. Von Hensen placed two worms in a vessel eighteen inches in
+diameter, which was filled with sand, on which fallen leaves were
+strewed; and these were soon dragged into their burrows to a depth
+of three inches. After about six weeks an almost uniform layer of
+sand, a centimetre (.4 inch) in thickness, was converted into humus
+by having passed through the alimentary canals of these two worms.
+It is believed by some persons that worm-burrows, which often
+penetrate the ground almost perpendicularly to a depth of five or
+six feet, materially aid in its drainage; notwithstanding that the
+viscid castings piled over the mouths of the burrows prevent or
+check the rain-water directly entering them. They allow the air to
+penetrate deeply into the ground. They also greatly facilitate the
+downward passage of roots of moderate size; and these will be
+nourished by the humus with which the burrows are lined. Many seeds
+owe their germination to having been covered by castings; and others
+buried to a considerable depth beneath accumulated castings lie
+dormant, until at some future time they are accidentally uncovered
+and germinate.
+
+Worms are poorly provided with sense-organs, for they cannot be said to
+see, although they can just distinguish between light and darkness; they
+are completely deaf, and have only a feeble power of smell; the sense of
+touch alone is well developed. They can therefore learn little about the
+outside world, and it is surprising that they should exhibit some skill
+in lining their burrows with their castings and with leaves, and in the
+case of some species in piling up their castings into tower-like
+constructions. But it is far more surprising that they should apparently
+exhibit some degree of intelligence instead of a mere blind instinctive
+impulse, in their manner of plugging up the mouths of their burrows.
+They act in nearly the same manner as would a man, who had to close a
+cylindrical tube with different kinds of leaves, petioles, triangles of
+paper, etc., for they commonly seize such objects by their pointed ends.
+But with thin objects a certain number are drawn in by their broader
+ends. They do not act in the same unvarying manner in all cases, as do
+most of the lower animals; for instance, they do not drag in leaves by
+their foot-stalks, unless the basal part of the blade is as narrow as
+the apex, or narrower than it.
+
+When we behold a wide, turf-covered expanse, we should remember that its
+smoothness, on which so much of its beauty depends, is mainly due to all
+the inequalities having been slowly levelled by worms. It is a
+marvellous reflection that the whole of the superficial mould over any
+such expanse has passed, and will again pass, every few years, through
+the bodies of worms. The plough is one of the most ancient and most
+valuable of man's inventions; but long before he existed the land was in
+fact regularly ploughed, and still continues to be thus ploughed by
+earth-worms. It may be doubted whether there are many other animals
+which have played so important a part in the history of the world, as
+have these lowly organized creatures.
+
+
+
+
+LXIX. "AS SHIPS, BECALMED AT EVE."
+
+ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.--1819-1861.
+
+
+    As ships, becalm'd at eve, that lay
+      With canvas drooping, side by side,
+    Two towers of sail at dawn of day
+      Are scarce long leagues apart descried;
+
+    When fell the night, upsprung the breeze,
+      And all the darkling hours they plied,
+    Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas
+      By each was cleaving, side by side:
+
+    E'en so--but why the tale reveal
+      Of those, whom year by year unchanged,
+    Brief absence join'd anew to feel,
+      Astounded, soul from soul estranged?
+
+    At dead of night their sails were fill'd,
+      And onward each rejoicing steer'd--
+    Ah, neither blame, for neither will'd,
+      Or wist, what first with dawn appear'd!
+
+    To veer, how vain! On, onward strain,
+      Brave barks! In light, in darkness too,
+    Through winds and tides one compass guides--
+      To that, and your own selves, be true.
+
+    But O blithe breeze! and O great seas,
+      Though ne'er, that earliest parting past,
+    On your wide plain they join again,
+      Together lead them home at last.
+
+    One port, methought, alike they sought,
+      One purpose hold where'er they fare,--
+    O bounding breeze, O rushing seas!
+      At last, at last, unite them there.
+
+
+
+
+LXX. DUTY.
+
+ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
+
+
+    Duty--that's to say, complying
+      With whate'er's expected here;
+    On your unknown cousin's dying,
+      Straight be ready with the tear;
+    Upon etiquette relying,
+    Unto usage nought denying,
+    Lend your waist to be embraced,
+      Blush not even, never fear;
+    Claims of kith and kin connection,
+      Claims of manners honor still,
+    Ready money of affection
+      Pay, whoever drew the bill.
+    With the form conforming duly,
+    Senseless what it meaneth truly,
+    Go to church--the world require you,
+      To balls--the world require you too,
+    And marry--papa and mamma desire you,
+      And your sisters and schoolfellows do.
+
+    Duty--'tis to take on trust
+    What things are good, and right, and just;
+      And whether indeed they be or be not,
+      Try not, test not, feel not, see not:
+      'Tis walk and dance, sit down and rise
+      By leading, opening ne'er your eyes;
+    Stunt sturdy limbs that Nature gave,
+    And be drawn in a Bath chair along to the grave.
+
+    'Tis the stern and prompt suppressing,
+      As an obvious deadly sin,
+    All the questing and the guessing
+      Of the soul's own soul within:
+        'Tis the coward acquiescence
+          In a destiny's behest,
+        To a shade by terror made,
+        Sacrificing, aye, the essence
+          Of all that's truest, noblest, best:
+        'Tis the blind non-recognition
+          Or of goodness, truth, or beauty,
+        Save by precept and submission;
+          Moral blank, and moral void,
+          Life at very birth destroy'd.
+        Atrophy, exinanition!
+        Duty!
+        Yea, by duty's prime condition
+          Pure nonentity of duty!
+
+
+
+
+LXXI. SONNETS.
+
+CHARLES HEAVYSEGE.--1816-1876.
+
+
+I.
+
+    The day was lingering in the pale north-west,
+    And night was hanging o'er my head,--
+    Night where a myriad stars were spread;
+    While down in the east, where the light was least,
+    Seem'd the home of the quiet dead.
+    And, as I gazed on the field sublime,
+    To watch the bright, pulsating stars,
+    Adown the deep where the angels sleep
+    Came drawn the golden chime
+    Of those great spheres that sound the years
+    For the horologe of time.
+    Millenniums numberless they told,
+    Millenniums a million-fold
+    From the ancient hour of prime.
+
+
+II.
+
+    The stars are glittering in the frosty sky,
+    Frequent as pebbles on a broad sea-coast;
+    And o'er the vault the cloud-like galaxy
+    Has marshall'd its innumerable host.
+    Alive all heaven seems! with wondrous glow
+    Tenfold refulgent every star appears,
+    As if some wide, celestial gale did blow,
+    And thrice illume the ever-kindled spheres.
+    Orbs, with glad orbs rejoicing, burning, beam,
+    Ray-crown'd, with lambent lustre in their zones,
+    Till o'er the blue, bespangled spaces seem
+    Angels and great archangels on their thrones;
+    A host divine, whose eyes are sparkling gems,
+    And forms more bright than diamond diadems.
+
+
+III.
+
+    Hush'd in a calm beyond mine utterance,
+    See in the western sky the evening spread;
+    Suspended in its pale, serene expanse,
+    Like scatter'd flames, the glowing cloudlets red.
+    Clear are those clouds; and that pure sky's profound,
+    Transparent as a lake of hyaline;
+    Nor motion, nor the faintest breath of sound,
+    Disturbs the steadfast beauty of the scene.
+    Far o'er the vault, the winnow'd welkin wide,
+    From the bronzed east unto the whiten'd west,
+    Moor'd, seem, in their sweet, tranquil, roseate pride,
+    Those clouds the fabled islands of the blest;--
+    The lands where pious spirits breathe in joy,
+    And love and worship all their hours employ.
+
+
+
+
+LXXII. DOCTOR ARNOLD AT RUGBY.
+
+ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY.--1815-1880.
+
+
+With his usual and undoubting confidence in what he believed to be a
+general law of Providence, he based his whole management of the school
+on his early-formed and yearly-increasing conviction that what he had to
+look for, both intellectually and morally, was not performance but
+promise; that the very freedom and independence of school life, which in
+itself he thought so dangerous, might be made the best preparation for
+Christian manhood; and he did not hesitate to apply to his scholars the
+principle which seemed to him to have been adopted in the training of
+the childhood of the human race itself. He shrunk from pressing on the
+conscience of boys rules of action which he felt they were not yet able
+to bear, and from enforcing actions which, though right in themselves,
+would in boys be performed from wrong motives. Keenly as he felt the
+risk and fatal consequences of the failure of this trial, still it was
+his great, sometimes his only support to believe that "the character is
+braced amid such scenes to a greater beauty and firmness than it ever
+can attain without enduring and witnessing them. Our work here would be
+absolutely unendurable if we did not bear in mind that we should look
+forward as well as backward--if we did not remember that the victory of
+fallen man lies not in innocence but in tried virtue." "I hold fast," he
+said, "to the great truth, that 'blessed is he that overcometh;'" and he
+writes in 1837: "Of all the painful things connected with my employment,
+nothing is equal to the grief of seeing a boy come to school innocent
+and promising, and tracing the corruption of his character from the
+influence of the temptations around him, in the very place which ought
+to have strengthened and improved it. But in most cases those who come
+with a character of positive good are benefited; it is the neutral and
+indecisive characters which are apt to be decided for evil by schools,
+as they would be in fact by any other temptation."
+
+But this very feeling led him with the greater eagerness to catch at
+every means by which the trial might be shortened or alleviated. "Can
+the change from childhood to manhood be hastened, without prematurely
+exhausting the faculties of body or mind?" was one of the chief
+questions on which his mind was constantly at work, and which in the
+judgment of some he was disposed to answer too readily in the
+affirmative. It was with the elder boys, of course, that he chiefly
+acted on this principle, but with all above the very young ones he
+trusted to it more or less. Firmly as he believed that _a_ time of trial
+was inevitable, he believed no less firmly that it might be passed at
+public schools sooner than under other circumstances; and, in proportion
+as he disliked the assumption of a false manliness in boys, was his
+desire to cultivate in them true manliness, as the only step to
+something higher, and to dwell on earnest principle and moral
+thoughtfulness, as the great and distinguishing mark between good and
+evil. Hence his wish that as much as possible should be done _by_ the
+boys, and nothing _for_ them; hence arose his practice, in which his own
+delicacy of feeling and uprightness of purpose powerfully assisted him,
+of treating the boys as gentlemen and reasonable beings, of making them
+respect themselves by the mere respect he showed to them; of showing
+that he appealed and trusted to their own common sense and conscience.
+Lying, for example, to the masters, he made a great moral offence:
+placing implicit confidence in a boy's assertion, and then, if a
+falsehood was discovered, punishing it severely,--in the upper part of
+the school, when persisted in, with expulsion. Even with the lower forms
+he never seemed to be on the watch for boys; and in the higher forms any
+attempt at further proof of an assertion was immediately checked: "If
+you say so, that is quite enough--_of course_ I believe your word;" and
+there grew up in consequence a general feeling that "it was a shame to
+tell Arnold a lie--he always believes one."
+
+Perhaps the liveliest representation of this general spirit, as
+distinguished from its exemplification in particular parts of the
+discipline and instruction, would be formed by recalling his manner, as
+he appeared in the great school, where the boys used to meet when the
+whole school was assembled collectively, and not in its different forms
+or classes. Then, whether on his usual entrance every morning to prayers
+before the first lesson, or on the more special emergencies which might
+require his presence, he seemed to stand before them, not merely as the
+head-master, but as the representative of the school. There he spoke to
+them as members together with himself of the same great institution,
+whose character and reputation they had to sustain as well as he. He
+would dwell on the satisfaction he had in being head of a society, where
+noble and honorable feelings were encouraged, or on the disgrace which
+he felt in hearing of acts of disorder or violence, such as in the
+humbler ranks of life would render them amenable to the laws of their
+country; or again, on the trust which he placed in their honor as
+gentlemen, and the baseness of any instance in which it was abused. "Is
+this a Christian school?" he indignantly asked at the end of one of
+those addresses, in which he had spoken of an extensive display of bad
+feeling amongst the boys; and then added,--"I cannot remain here if all
+this is to be carried on by constraint and force; if I am to be here as
+a jailer, I will resign my office at once." And few scenes can be
+recorded more characteristic of him than on one of these occasions,
+when, in consequence of a disturbance, he had been obliged to send away
+several boys, and when in the midst of the general spirit of discontent
+which this excited, he stood in his place before the assembled school
+and said: "It is _not_ necessary that this should be a school of three
+hundred, or one hundred, or of fifty boys; but it _is_ necessary that it
+should be a school of Christian gentlemen."
+
+
+
+
+LXXIII. ODE TO THE NORTH-EAST WIND.
+
+CHARLES KINGSLEY.--1819-1875.
+
+
+    Welcome, wild North-easter!
+      Shame it is to see
+    Odes to every zephyr;
+      Ne'er a verse to thee.
+    Welcome, black North-easter!
+      O'er the German foam;
+    O'er the Danish moorlands,
+      From thy frozen home.
+    Tired we are of summer,
+      Tired of gaudy glare,
+    Showers soft and steaming,
+      Hot and breathless air.
+    Tired of listless dreaming
+      Through the lazy day:
+    Jovial wind of winter
+      Turns us out to play!
+    Sweep the golden reed-beds;
+      Crisp the lazy dyke;
+    Hunger into madness
+      Every plunging pike.
+    Fill the lake with wild-fowl;
+      Fill the marsh with snipe;
+    While on dreary moorlands
+      Lonely curlew pipe.
+    Through the black fir-forest
+      Thunder harsh and dry,
+    Shattering down the snow-flakes
+      Off the curdled sky.
+    Hark! The brave North-easter!
+      Breast-high lies the scent,
+    On by holt and headland,
+      Over heath and bent.
+    Chime, ye dappled darlings,
+      Through the sleet and snow.
+    Who can over-ride you?
+      Let the horses go!
+    Chime, ye dappled darlings,
+      Down the roaring blast;
+    You shall see a fox die
+      Ere an hour be past.
+    Go! and rest to-morrow,
+      Hunting in your dreams,
+    While our skates are ringing
+      O'er the frozen streams.
+    Let the luscious South-wind
+      Breathe in lovers' sighs,
+    While the lazy gallants
+      Bask in ladies' eyes.
+    What does he but soften
+      Heart alike and pen?
+    'Tis the hard grey weather
+      Breeds hard English men.
+    What's the soft South-wester?
+      'Tis the ladies' breeze,
+    Bringing home their true-loves
+      Out of all the seas.
+    But the black North-easter,
+      Through the snow-storm hurl'd,
+    Drives our English hearts of oak
+      Seaward round the world.
+    Come, as came our fathers,
+      Heralded by thee,
+    Conquering from the eastward,
+      Lords by land and sea.
+    Come; and strong within us
+      Stir the Vikings' blood,
+    Bracing brain and sinew;
+      Blow, thou wind of God!
+
+
+
+
+LXXIV. FROM "THE MILL ON THE FLOSS."
+
+GEORGE ELIOT.--1820-1880.
+
+
+The next morning Maggie was trotting with her own fishing-rod in one
+hand and a handle of the basket in the other, stepping always, by a
+peculiar gift, in the muddiest places, and looking darkly radiant from
+under her beaver bonnet because Tom was good to her. She had told Tom,
+however, that she should like him to put the worms on the hook for her,
+although she accepted his word when he assured her that worms couldn't
+feel (it was Tom's private opinion that it didn't much matter if they
+did). He knew all about worms, and fish, and those things; and what
+birds were mischievous, and how padlocks opened, and which way the
+handles of the gates were to be lifted. Maggie thought this sort of
+knowledge was very wonderful--much more difficult than remembering what
+was in the books; and she was rather in awe of Tom's superiority, for he
+was the only person who called her knowledge "stuff," and did not feel
+surprised at her cleverness. Tom, indeed, was of opinion that Maggie was
+a silly little thing; all girls were silly; they couldn't throw a stone
+so as to hit anything, couldn't do anything with a pocket-knife, and
+were frightened at frogs. Still, he was very fond of his sister, and
+meant always to take care of her, make her his housekeeper, and punish
+her when she did wrong.
+
+They were on their way to the Round Pool--that wonderful pool, which
+the floods had made a long while ago. No one knew how deep it was;
+and it was mysterious, too, that it should be almost a perfect round,
+framed in with willows and tall reeds, so that the water was only to
+be seen when you got close to the brink. The sight of the old favorite
+spot always heightened Tom's good-humor, and he spoke to Maggie in the
+most amiable whispers, as he opened the precious basket and prepared
+their tackle. He threw her line for her, and put the rod into her hand.
+Maggie thought it probable that the small fish would come to her hook,
+and the large ones to Tom's. But she had forgotten all about the fish,
+and was looking dreamily at the glassy water, when Tom said, in a loud
+whisper, "Look! look, Maggie!" and came running to prevent her from
+snatching her line away.
+
+Maggie was frightened lest she had been doing something wrong, as usual,
+but presently Tom drew out her line and brought a large tench bouncing
+on the grass.
+
+Tom was excited.
+
+"O Magsie! you little duck! Empty the basket."
+
+Maggie was not conscious of unusual merit, but it was enough that Tom
+called her Magsie, and was pleased with her. There was nothing to mar
+her delight in the whispers and the dreamy silences, when she listened
+to the light dipping sounds of the rising fish, and the gentle rustling,
+as if the willows, and the reeds, and the water had their happy
+whisperings also. Maggie thought it would make a very nice heaven to sit
+by the pool in that way, and never be scolded. She never knew she had a
+bite till Tom told her, but she liked fishing very much.
+
+It was one of their happy mornings. They trotted along and sat down
+together, with no thought that life would ever change much for them:
+they would only get bigger and not go to school, and it would always be
+like the holidays; they would always live together and be fond of each
+other. And the mill with its booming--the great chestnut-tree under
+which they played at houses--their own little river, the Ripple, where
+the banks seemed like home, and Tom was always seeing the water-rats,
+while Maggie gathered the purple plumy tops of the reeds, which she
+forgot and dropped afterward--above all, the great Floss, along which
+they wandered with a sense of travel, to see the rushing spring-tide,
+the awful Eagre, come up like a hungry monster, or to see the Great Ash
+which had once wailed and groaned like a man--these things would always
+be just the same to them. Tom thought people were at a disadvantage who
+lived on any other spot of the globe; and Maggie, when she read about
+Christiana passing "the river over which there is no bridge," always saw
+the Floss between the green pastures by the Great Ash.
+
+Life did change for Tom and Maggie; and yet they were not wrong in
+believing that the thoughts and loves of these first years would always
+make part of their lives. We could never have loved the earth so well if
+we had had no childhood in it--if it were not the earth where the same
+flowers come up again every spring that we used to gather with our tiny
+fingers as we sat lisping to ourselves on the grass--the same hips and
+haws on the autumn hedgerows--the same red-breasts that we used to call
+"God's birds," because they did no harm to the precious crops. What
+novelty is worth that sweet monotony where everything is known, and
+_loved_ because it is known?
+
+The wood I walk in on this mild May day, with the young yellow-brown
+foliage of the oaks between me and the blue sky, the white star-flowers,
+and the blue-eyed speedwell, and the ground-ivy at my feet--what grove
+of tropic palms, what strange ferns or splendid broad-petaled blossoms,
+could ever thrill such deep and delicate fibres within me as this
+home-scene? These familiar flowers, these well-remembered bird-notes,
+this sky with its fitful brightness, these furrowed and grassy fields,
+each with a sort of personality given to it by the capricious
+hedgerows--such things as these are the mother tongue of our
+imagination, the language that is laden with all the subtle inextricable
+associations the fleeting hours of our childhood left behind them. Our
+delight in the sunshine on the deep-bladed grass to-day might be no more
+than the faint perception of wearied souls, if it were not for the
+sunshine and the grass in the far-off years, which still live in us, and
+transform our perception into love.
+
+
+
+
+LXXV. THE CLOUD CONFINES.
+
+DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.--1828-1882.
+
+
+    The day is dark and the night
+      To him that would search their heart;
+      No lips of cloud that will part
+    Nor morning song in the light:
+      Only, gazing alone,
+      To him wild shadows are shown,
+      Deep under deep unknown
+    And height above unknown height.
+            Still we say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+    The Past is over and fled;
+      Named new, we name it the old;
+      Thereof some tale hath been told,
+    But no word comes from the dead;
+      Whether at all they be,
+      Or whether as bond or free,
+      Or whether they too were we,
+    Or by what spell they have sped.
+            Still we say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+    What of the heart of hate
+      That beats in thy breast, O Time?--
+      Red strife from the furthest prime,
+    And anguish of fierce debate;
+      War that shatters her slain,
+      And peace that grinds them as grain,
+      And eyes fix'd ever in vain
+    On the pitiless eyes of Fate.
+            Still we say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+    What of the heart of love
+      That bleeds in thy breast, O Man?--
+      Thy kisses snatch'd 'neath the ban
+    Of fangs that mock them above;
+      Thy bells prolong'd unto knells,
+      Thy hope that a breath dispels,
+      Thy bitter forlorn farewells
+    And the empty echoes thereof?
+            Still we say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+    The sky leans dumb on the sea,
+      Aweary with all its wings;
+      And oh! the song the sea sings
+    Is dark everlastingly.
+      Our past is clean forgot,
+      Our present is and is not,
+      Our future's a seal'd seedplot,
+    And what betwixt them are we?--
+            We who say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+
+
+
+LXXVI. BARBARA FRIETCHIE.
+
+JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.--1807-
+
+
+    Up from the meadows rich with corn,
+    Clear in the cool September morn,
+
+    The cluster'd spires of Frederick stand
+    Green-wall'd by the hills of Maryland.
+
+    Round about them orchards sweep,
+    Apple and peach tree fruited deep,--
+
+    Fair as a garden of the Lord
+    To the eyes of the famish'd rebel horde,
+
+    On that pleasant morn of the early fall
+    When Lee march'd over the mountain wall,--
+
+    Over the mountains winding down,
+    Horse and foot, into Frederick town.
+
+    Forty flags with their silver stars,
+    Forty flags with their crimson bars,
+
+    Flapp'd in the morning wind: the sun
+    Of noon look'd down, and saw not one.
+
+    Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
+    Bow'd with her fourscore years and ten;
+
+    Bravest of all in Frederick town,
+    She took up the flag the men haul'd down;
+
+    In her attic-window the staff she set,
+    To show that one heart was loyal yet.
+
+    Up the street came the rebel tread,
+    Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
+
+    Under his slouch'd hat left and right
+    He glanced: the old flag met his sight.
+
+    "Halt!"--the dust-brown ranks stood fast
+    "Fire!"--out blazed the rifle-blast.
+
+    It shiver'd the window, pane and sash;
+    It rent the banner with seam and gash.
+
+    Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
+    Dame Barbara snatch'd the silken scarf;
+
+    She lean'd far out on the window-sill,
+    And shook it forth with a royal will.
+
+    "Shoot, if you must, this old grey head,
+    But spare your country's flag!" she said.
+
+    A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
+    Over the face of the leader came;
+
+    The nobler nature within him stirr'd
+    To life at that woman's deed and word:
+
+    "Who touches a hair of yon grey head,
+    Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.
+
+    All day long through Frederick street
+    Sounded the tread of marching feet:
+
+    All day long that free flag toss'd
+    Over the heads of the rebel host.
+
+    Ever its torn folds rose and fell
+    On the loyal winds that lov'd it well;
+
+    And through the hill-gaps sunset light
+    Shone over it with a warm good-night.
+
+    Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
+    And the Rebel rides on his raids no more
+
+    Honor to her! and let a tear
+    Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.
+
+    Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
+    Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!
+
+    Peace and order and beauty draw
+    Round thy symbol of light and law;
+
+    And ever the stars above look down
+    On thy stars below in Frederick town!
+
+
+
+
+LXXVII. CONTENTMENT.
+
+OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.--1809-
+
+_"Man wants but little here below."_
+
+
+    Little I ask; my wants are few;
+      I only wish a hut of stone,
+    (A _very plain_ brown stone will do,)
+      That I may call my own;--
+    And close at hand is such a one,
+    In yonder street that fronts the sun.
+
+    Plain food is quite enough for me;
+      Three courses are as good as ten;--
+    If Nature can subsist on three,
+      Thank Heaven for three. Amen!
+    I always thought cold victual nice;--
+    My _choice_ would be vanilla-ice.
+
+    I care not much for gold or land;--
+      Give me a mortgage here and there,--
+    Some good bank-stock,--some note of hand,
+      Or trifling railroad share,--
+    I only ask that Fortune send
+    A _little_ more than I shall spend.
+
+    Honors are silly toys, I know,
+      And titles are but empty names;
+    I would, _perhaps_, be Plenipo,--
+      But only near St. James;
+    I'm very sure I should not care
+    To fill our Gubernator's chair.
+
+    Jewels are baubles; 'tis a sin
+      To care for such unfruitful things;--
+    One good-sized diamond in a pin,--
+      Some, _not so large_, in rings,--
+    A ruby, and a pearl, or so,
+    Will do for me;--I laugh at show.
+
+    My dame should dress in cheap attire;
+      (Good, heavy silks are never dear;)--
+    I own perhaps I _might_ desire
+      Some shawls of true Cashmere,--
+    Some marrowy crapes of China silk,
+    Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.
+
+    I would not have the horse I drive
+      So fast that folks must stop and stare;
+    An easy gait--two, forty-five--
+      Suits me; I do not care,--
+    Perhaps for just a _single spurt_,
+    Some seconds less would do no hurt.
+
+    Of pictures I should like to own
+      Titians and Raphaels three or four,--
+    I love so much their style and tone,--
+      One Turner, and no more,
+    (A landscape,--foreground golden dirt,--
+    The sunshine painted with a squirt.)
+
+    Of books but few,--some fifty score
+      For daily use, and bound for wear;
+    The rest upon an upper floor;--
+      Some _little_ luxury _there_
+    Of red morocco's gilded gleam,
+    And vellum rich as country cream.
+
+    Busts, cameos, gems,--such things as these,
+      Which others often show for pride,
+    _I_ value for their power to please,
+      And selfish churls deride;--
+    _One_ Stradivarius, I confess,
+    _Two_ Meerschaums, I would fain possess.
+
+    Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn,
+      Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;--
+    Shall not carv'd tables serve my turn,
+      But _all_ must be of buhl?
+    Give grasping pomp its double share,--
+    I ask but _one_ recumbent chair.
+
+    Thus humble let me live and die,
+      Nor long for Midas' golden touch;
+    If Heaven more generous gifts deny,
+      I shall not miss them _much_,--
+    Too grateful for the blessing lent
+    Of simple tastes and mind content.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Flower in the crannied wall,
+    I pluck you out of the crannies;--
+    Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
+    Little flower--but if I could understand
+    What you are, root and all, and all in all,
+    I should know what God and man is._
+
+        TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+LXXVIII. THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
+
+THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE.--1809-
+
+_From_ KIN BEYOND SEA.
+
+
+The Constitution has not been the offspring of the thought of man. The
+Cabinet, and all the present relations of the Constitutional powers in
+this country, have grown into their present dimensions, and settled into
+their present places, not as the fruit of a philosophy, not in the
+effort to give effect to an abstract principle; but by the silent action
+of forces, invisible and insensible, the structure has come up into the
+view of all the world. It is, perhaps, the most conspicuous object on
+the wide political horizon; but it has thus risen, without noise, like
+the temple of Jerusalem.
+
+    "No workman steel, no ponderous hammers rung;
+    Like some tall palm the stately fabric sprung."
+
+When men repeat the proverb which teaches us that "marriages are made in
+heaven," what they mean is that, in the most fundamental of all social
+operations, the building up of the family, the issues involved in the
+nuptial contract, lie beyond the best exercise of human thought, and the
+unseen forces of providential government make good the defect in our
+imperfect capacity. Even so would it seem to have been in that curious
+marriage of competing influences and powers, which brings about the
+composite harmony of the British Constitution. More, it must be
+admitted, than any other, it leaves open doors which lead into blind
+alleys; for it presumes, more boldly than any other, the good sense and
+good faith of those who work it. If, unhappily, these personages meet
+together, on the great arena of a nation's fortunes, as jockeys meet
+upon a racecourse, each to urge to the uttermost, as against the others,
+the power of the animal he rides; or as counsel in a court, each to
+procure the victory of his client, without respect to any other interest
+or right: then this boasted Constitution of ours is neither more nor
+less than a heap of absurdities. The undoubted competency of each
+reaches even to the paralysis or destruction of the rest. The House of
+Commons is entitled to refuse every shilling of the Supplies. That
+House, and also the House of Lords, is entitled to refuse its assent to
+every Bill presented to it. The Crown is entitled to make a thousand
+Peers to-day, and as many to-morrow: it may dissolve all and every
+Parliament before it proceeds to business; may pardon the most atrocious
+crimes; may declare war against all the world; may conclude treaties
+involving unlimited responsibilities, and even vast expenditure, without
+the consent, nay without the knowledge, of Parliament, and this not
+merely in support or in development, but in reversal, of policy already
+known to and sanctioned by the nation. But the assumption is that the
+depositaries of power will all respect one another; will evince a
+consciousness that they are working in a common interest for a common
+end; that they will be possessed, together with not less than an average
+intelligence, of not less than an average sense of equity and of the
+public interest and rights. When these reasonable expectations fail,
+then, it must be admitted, the British Constitution will be in danger.
+
+Apart from such contingencies, the offspring only of folly or of crime,
+this Constitution is peculiarly liable to subtle change. Not only in the
+long-run, as man changes between youth and age, but also, like the human
+body, with a quotidian life, a periodical recurrence of ebbing and
+flowing tides. Its old particles daily run to waste, and give place to
+new. What is hoped among us is, that which has usually been found, that
+evils will become palpable before they have grown to be intolerable....
+
+Meantime, we of this island are not great political philosophers; and we
+contend with an earnest, but disproportioned, vehemence about changes
+which are palpable, such as the extension of the suffrage, or the
+redistribution of Parliamentary seats, neglecting wholly other processes
+of change which work beneath the surface, and in the dark, but which are
+even more fertile of great organic results. The modern English character
+reflects the English Constitution in this, that it abounds in paradox;
+that it possesses every strength, but holds it tainted with every
+weakness; that it seems alternately both to rise above and to fall below
+the standard of average humanity; that there is no allegation of praise
+or blame which, in some one of the aspects of its many-sided formation,
+it does not deserve; that only in the midst of much default, and much
+transgression, the people of this United Kingdom either have heretofore
+established, or will hereafter establish, their title to be reckoned
+among the children of men, for the eldest born of an imperial race.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _It fortifies my soul to know
+    That, though I perish, Truth is so:
+    That, howsoe'er I stray and range,
+    Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change.
+    I steadier step when I recall
+    That, if I slip Thou dost not fall._
+
+        ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
+
+
+
+
+LXXIX. THE LORD OF BURLEIGH.
+
+LORD TENNYSON.--1809-
+
+
+    In her ear he whispers gayly,
+      "If my heart by signs can tell,
+    Maiden, I have watch'd thee daily,
+      And I think thou lov'st me well."
+    She replies, in accents fainter,
+      "There is none I love like thee."
+    He is but a landscape-painter,
+      And a village maiden she.
+    He to lips, that fondly falter,
+      Presses his without reproof:
+    Leads her to the village altar,
+      And they leave her father's roof.
+    "I can make no marriage present;
+      Little can I give my wife.
+    Love will make our cottage pleasant,
+      And I love thee more than life."
+    They by parks and lodges going
+      See the lordly castles stand:
+    Summer woods, about them blowing,
+      Made a murmur in the land.
+    From deep thought himself he rouses
+      Says to her that loves him well,
+    "Let us see these handsome houses
+      Where the wealthy nobles dwell."
+    So she goes by him attended,
+      Hears him lovingly converse,
+    Sees whatever fair and splendid
+      Lay betwixt his home and hers;
+    Parks with oak and chestnut shady,
+      Parks and order'd gardens great,
+    Ancient homes of lord and lady,
+      Built for pleasure and for state.
+    All he shows her makes him dearer:
+      Evermore she seems to gaze
+    On that cottage growing nearer,
+      Where they twain will spend their days.
+    O but she will love him truly!
+      He shall have a cheerful home;
+    She will order all things duly,
+      When beneath his roof they come.
+    Thus her heart rejoices greatly,
+      Till a gateway she discerns
+    With armorial bearings stately,
+      And beneath the gate she turns;
+    Sees a mansion more majestic
+      Than all those she saw before:
+    Many a gallant gay domestic
+      Bows before him at the door.
+    And they speak in gentle murmur,
+      When they answer to his call,
+    While he treads with footsteps firmer,
+      Leading on from hall to hall.
+    And, while now she wonders blindly,
+      Nor the meaning can divine,
+    Proudly turns he round and kindly,
+      "All of this is mine and thine."
+    Here he lives in state and bounty,
+      Lord of Burleigh, fair and free,
+    Not a lord in all the county
+      Is so great a lord as he.
+    All at once the color flushes
+      Her sweet face from brow to chin:
+    As it were with shame she blushes,
+      And her spirit changed within.
+    Then her countenance all over
+      Pale again as death did prove;
+    But he clasp'd her like a lover,
+      And he cheer'd her soul with love.
+    So she strove against her weakness,
+      Tho' at times her spirits sank:
+    Shaped her heart with woman's meekness
+      To all duties of her rank:
+    And a gentle consort made he,
+      And her gentle mind was such
+    That she grew a noble lady,
+      And the people lov'd her much.
+    But a trouble weigh'd upon her,
+    And perplex'd her, night and morn,
+      With the burden of an honor
+    Unto which she was not born.
+      Faint she grew, and ever fainter,
+    As she murmur'd, "O, that he
+      Were once more that landscape-painter,
+    Which did win my heart from me!"
+      So she droop'd and droop'd before him,
+    Fading slowly from his side:
+      Three fair children first she bore him,
+    Then before her time she died.
+      Weeping, weeping late and early,
+    Walking up and pacing down,
+      Deeply mourn'd the Lord of Burleigh,
+    Burleigh-house by Stamford-town.
+      And he came to look upon her,
+    And he look'd at her and said,
+      "Bring the dress and put it on her,
+    That she wore when she was wed."
+      Then her people, softly treading,
+    Bore to earth her body, drest
+      In the dress that she was wed in,
+    That her spirit might have rest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,
+      Am I not richer than of old?_
+
+        WHITTIER.
+
+
+
+
+LXXX. "BREAK, BREAK, BREAK."
+
+LORD TENNYSON.
+
+
+    Break, break, break,
+      On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
+    And I would that my tongue could utter
+      The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+    O well for the fisherman's boy,
+      That he shouts with his sister at play!
+    O well for the sailor lad,
+      That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+    And the stately ships go on
+      To their haven under the hill;
+    But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
+      And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+    Break, break, break,
+      At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
+    But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+      Will never come back to me.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXI. THE "REVENGE."
+
+A BALLAD OF THE FLEET, 1591.
+
+LORD TENNYSON.
+
+
+    At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,
+    And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away:
+    "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!"
+    Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "'Fore God I am no coward!
+    But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear,
+    And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.
+    We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?"
+
+    Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward;
+    You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.
+    But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.
+    I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,
+    To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain."
+
+    So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day,
+    Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven;
+    But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land
+    Very carefully and slow,
+    Men of Bideford in Devon,
+    And we laid them on the ballast down below;
+    For we brought them all aboard,
+    And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain,
+    To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.
+
+    He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight,
+    And he sail'd away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight,
+    With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow.
+    "Shall we fight or shall we fly?
+    Good Sir Richard, let us know,
+    For to fight is but to die!
+    There'll be little of us left by the time the sun be set."
+    And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good Englishmen.
+    Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil,
+    For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet."
+
+    Sir Richard spoke, and he laugh'd, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so
+    The little "Revenge" ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,
+    With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;
+    For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen,
+    And the little "Revenge" ran on thro' the long sea-lane between.
+
+    Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks and
+              laugh'd,
+    Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft
+    Running on and on, till delay'd
+    By their mountain-like "San Philip" that, of fifteen hundred tons,
+    And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns,
+    Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd.
+
+    And while now the great "San Philip" hung above us like a cloud
+    Whence the thunderbolt will fall
+    Long and loud,
+    Four galleons drew away
+    From the Spanish fleet that day,
+    And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay,
+    And the battle-thunder broke from them all.
+
+    But anon the great "San Philip," she bethought herself and went,
+    Having that within her womb that had left her ill-content;
+    And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,
+    For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,
+    And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears
+    When he leaps from the water to the land.
+
+    And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer
+              sea,
+    But never a moment ceas'd the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
+    Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons
+              came,
+    Ship after ship, the whole night long, with their battle-thunder and
+              flame;
+    Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and
+              her shame;
+    For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight us
+              no more--
+    God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?
+    For he said, "Fight on! fight on!"
+    Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck;
+    And it chanced that, when half of the summer night was gone,
+    With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,
+    But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead,
+    And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head,
+    And he said, "Fight on! fight on!"
+
+    And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer
+              sea,
+    And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;
+    But they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still
+              could sting,
+    So they watch'd what the end would be.
+    And we had not fought them in vain,
+    But in perilous plight were we,
+    Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,
+    And half of the rest of us maim'd for life
+    In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;
+    And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,
+    And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it
+              spent;
+    And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;
+    But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,
+    "We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
+    As may never be fought again!
+    We have won great glory, my men!
+    And a day less or more
+    At sea or shore,
+    We die--does it matter when?
+    Sink me the ship, Master Gunner--sink her, split her in twain!
+    Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"
+
+    And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply:
+    "We have children, we have wives,
+    And the Lord hath spared our lives.
+    We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;
+    We shall live to fight again, and to strike another blow."
+    And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.
+
+    And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,
+    Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,
+    And they prais'd him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;
+    But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:
+    "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;
+    I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:
+    With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die!"
+    And he fell upon their decks, and he died.
+
+    And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,
+    And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap,
+    That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;
+    Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,
+    But they sank his body with honor down into the deep,
+    And they mann'd the "Revenge" with a swarthier alien crew,
+    And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own;
+    When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep,
+    And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
+    And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,
+    And a wave like the wave that is rais'd by an earthquake grew,
+    Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and
+              their flags,
+    And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of
+              Spain,
+    And the little "Revenge" herself went down by the island crags
+    To be lost evermore in the main.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _There is no land like England, where'er the light of day be;
+    There are no hearts like English hearts, such hearts of oak as
+              they be._
+
+        TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXII. HERVÉ RIEL.
+
+ROBERT BROWNING.--1812-
+
+
+    On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two,
+        Did the English fight the French,--woe to France!
+    And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,
+    Like a crowd of frighten'd porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,
+        Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,
+    With the English fleet in view.
+
+    'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase;
+        First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville;
+            Close on him fled, great and small,
+            Twenty-two good ships in all;
+    And they signall'd to the place
+    "Help the winners of a race!
+        Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick;--or, quicker
+              still,
+        Here's the English can and will!"
+
+    Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board:
+        "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?"
+              laugh'd they:
+    "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarr'd and
+              scored,
+    Shall the _Formidable_ here with her twelve and eighty guns
+        Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way,
+    Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,
+            And with flow at full beside?
+            Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide.
+        Reach the mooring? Rather say,
+    While rock stands or water runs,
+        Not a ship will leave the bay!"
+
+    Then was call'd a council straight.
+    Brief and bitter the debate:
+    "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow
+    All that's left us of the fleet, link'd together stern and bow,
+    For a prize to Plymouth Sound?
+    Better run the ships aground!"
+        (Ended Damfreville his speech.)
+    Not a minute more to wait!
+        "Let the captains all and each
+        Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach!
+    France must undergo her fate.
+
+    "Give the word!" But no such word
+    Was ever spoke or heard;
+        For up stood, for out stepp'd, for in struck, amid all these,--
+    A captain? a lieutenant? a mate,--first, second, third?
+        No such man of mark, and meet
+        With his betters to compete!
+        But a simple Breton sailor press'd by Tourville for the fleet,
+    A poor coasting-pilot he,--Hervé Riel, the Croisickese.
+
+    And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé Riel:
+        "Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues?
+    Talk to me of rocks and shoals?--me, who took the soundings, tell
+    On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell
+        'Twixt the offing here and Grève where the river disembogues?
+    Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for?
+        Morn and eve, night and day,
+        Have I piloted your bay,
+    Enter'd free and anchor'd fast at the foot of Solidor.
+        Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty
+              Hogues!
+            Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's
+              a way!
+    Only let me lead the line,
+        Have the biggest ship to steer,
+        Get this _Formidable_ clear,
+    Make the others follow mine,
+    And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well,
+        Right to Solidor past Grève,
+            And there lay them safe and sound;
+        And if one ship misbehave,--
+            Keel so much as grate the ground,--
+    Why, I've nothing but my life,--here's my head!" cries Hervé Riel.
+
+    Not a minute more to wait.
+    "Steer us in, then, small and great!
+        Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its
+              chief.
+    Captains, give the sailor place!
+        He is admiral, in brief.
+    Still the north-wind, by God's grace!
+    See the noble fellow's face
+    As the big ship, with a bound,
+    Clears the entry like a hound,
+    Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound!
+        See, safe through shoal and rock,
+        How they follow in a flock!
+    Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground,
+        Not a spar that comes to grief!
+    The peril, see, is past!
+    All are harbor'd to the last!
+    And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate
+    Up the English come,--too late!
+
+    So, the storm subsides to calm:
+        They see the green trees wave
+        On the heights o'erlooking Grève.
+    Hearts that bled are stanch'd with balm.
+    "Just our rapture to enhance,
+        Let the English rake the bay,
+    Gnash their teeth and glare askance
+        As they cannonade away!
+    'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!"
+    Now hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!
+    Out burst all with one accord,
+        "This is Paradise for Hell!
+            Let France, let France's king,
+            Thank the man that did the thing!"
+    What a shout, and all one word,
+        "Hervé Riel!"
+    As he stepp'd in front once more,
+        Not a symptom of surprise
+        In the frank blue Breton eyes,--
+    Just the same man as before.
+
+    Then said Damfreville, "My friend,
+    I must speak out at the end,
+        Though I find the speaking hard.
+    Praise is deeper than the lips;
+    You have saved the king his ships,
+        You must name your own reward.
+    'Faith our sun was near eclipse!
+    Demand whate'er you will,
+    France remains your debtor still.
+    Ask to heart's content, and have! or my name's not Damfreville."
+
+    Then a beam of fun outbroke
+    On the bearded mouth that spoke,
+    As the honest heart laugh'd through
+    Those frank eyes of Breton blue:
+    "Since I needs must say my say,
+        Since on board the duty's done,
+        And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?--
+    Since 'tis ask and have, I may,--
+        Since the others go ashore,--
+    Come! A good whole holiday!
+        Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!"
+        That he ask'd and that he got,--nothing more.
+
+    Name and deed alike are lost:
+    Not a pillar nor a post
+        In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell;
+    Not a head in white and black
+    On a single fishing smack,
+    In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack
+        All that France saved from the fight whence England bore
+              the bell.
+    Go to Paris: rank on rank
+        Search the heroes flung pell-mell
+    On the Louvre, face and flank!
+        You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Riel.
+    So, for better and for worse,
+    Hervé Riel, accept my verse!
+    In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more
+    Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _The Summum Pulchrum rests in heaven above;
+      Do thou, as best thou may'st, thy duty do:
+    Amid the things allow'd thee live and love,
+      Some day thou shalt it view._
+
+        ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIII. SONNET.
+
+PRESIDENT WILSON.--1816-
+
+
+    Great things were ne'er begotten in an hour;
+    Ephemerons in birth, are such in life;
+    And he who dareth, in the noble strife
+    Of intellects, to cope for real power,--
+    Such as God giveth as His rarest dower
+    Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,--
+    Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lower
+    Till the long shadows of the night arrive,
+    Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won,
+    Pluck'd from green boughs, soon wither; those that last
+    Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noon
+    And summer's fiery glare in vain are past.
+    Life is the hour of labor; on Earth's breast
+    Serene and undisturb'd shall be thy rest.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIV. OUR IDEAL.
+
+PRESIDENT WILSON.
+
+
+    Did ever on painter's canvas live
+      The power of his fancy's dream?
+    Did ever poet's pen achieve
+      Fruition of his theme?
+    Did marble ever take the life
+      That the sculptor's soul conceiv'd?
+    Or ambition win in passion's strife
+      What its glowing hopes believ'd?
+    Did ever racer's eager feet
+      Rest as he reach'd the goal,
+    Finding the prize achiev'd was meet
+      To satisfy his soul?
+
+
+
+
+LXXXV. FROM THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES.
+
+BENJAMIN JOWETT.--1817-
+
+_From_ THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO.
+
+
+Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for the evil name
+which you will get from the detractors of the city, who will say that
+you killed Socrates, a wise man; for they will call me wise, even
+although I am not wise, when they want to reproach you. If you had
+waited a little while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the
+course of nature. For I am far advanced in years, as you may perceive,
+and not far from death. I am speaking now only to those of you who have
+condemned me to death. And I have another thing to say to them: You
+think that I was convicted through deficiency of words--I mean, that if
+I had thought fit to leave nothing undone, nothing unsaid, I might have
+gained an acquittal. Not so; the deficiency which led to my conviction
+was not of words--certainly not. But I had not the boldness or impudence
+or inclination to address you as you would have liked me to address you,
+weeping and wailing and lamenting, and saying and doing many things
+which you have been accustomed to hear from others, and which, as I say,
+are unworthy of me. But I thought that I ought not to do anything common
+or mean in the hour of danger: nor do I now repent of the manner of my
+defense, and I would rather die having spoken after my manner, than
+speak in your manner and live. For neither in war nor yet at law ought
+any man to use every way of escaping death. For often in battle there is
+no doubt that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees
+before his pursuers, he may escape death; and in other dangers there
+are other ways of escaping death, if a man is willing to say and do
+anything. The difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in
+avoiding unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I am old and
+move slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers are
+keen and quick, and the faster runner, who is unrighteousness, has
+overtaken them. And now I depart hence, condemned by you to suffer the
+penalty of death, and they too go their ways, condemned by the truth to
+suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide by my
+award--let them abide by theirs. I suppose that these things may be
+regarded as fated,--and I think that they are well.
+
+And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you; for
+I am about to die, and that is the hour in which men are gifted with
+prophetic power. And I prophesy to you who are my murderers, that
+immediately after my death punishment far heavier than you have
+inflicted on me will surely await you. Me you have killed because you
+wanted to escape the accuser, and not to give an account of your lives.
+But that will not be as you suppose: far otherwise. For I say that there
+will be more accusers of you than there are now; accusers whom hitherto
+I have restrained: and as they are younger they will be more severe with
+you, and you will be more offended at them. For if you think that by
+killing men you can avoid the accuser censuring your lives, you are
+mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is either possible or
+honorable; the easiest and the noblest way is not to be crushing others,
+but to be improving yourselves. This is the prophecy which I utter
+before my departure to the judges who have condemned me.
+
+Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk with you
+about this thing which has happened, while the magistrates are busy, and
+before I go to the place at which I must die. Stay then a while, for we
+may as well talk with one another while there is time. You are my
+friends, and I should like to show you the meaning of this event which
+has happened to me. O my judges--for you I may truly call judges--I
+should like to tell you of a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the
+familiar oracle within me has constantly been in the habit of opposing
+me even about trifles, if I was going to make a slip or error about
+anything; and now as you see there has come upon me that which may be
+thought, and is generally believed to be, the last and worst evil. But
+the oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I was leaving my house
+and going out in the morning, or when I was going up into this court, or
+while I was speaking, at anything which I was going to say; and yet I
+have often been stopped in the middle of a speech, but now in nothing I
+either said or did touching this matter has the oracle opposed me. What
+do I take to be the explanation of this? I will tell you. I regard this
+as a proof that what has happened to me is a good, and that those of us
+who think that death is an evil are in error. This is a great proof to
+me of what I am saying, for the customary sign would surely have opposed
+me had I been going to evil and not to good.
+
+Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great
+reason to hope that death is a good, for one of two things: either death
+is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say,
+there is a change and migration of the soul from this world to another.
+Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the
+sleep of him who is undisturbed even by the sight of dreams, death will
+be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select the night in
+which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare with
+this the other days and nights of his life, and then were to tell us how
+many days and nights he had passed in the course of his life better and
+more pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a
+private man, but even the great king will not find many such days or
+nights, when compared with the others. Now if death is like this, I say
+that to die is gain; for eternity is then only a single night. But if
+death is the journey to another place, and there, as men say, all the
+dead are, what good, O my friends and judges, can be greater than this?
+If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world below, he is delivered
+from the professors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges
+who are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and, Æacus,
+and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were righteous in their own
+life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. What would not a man give if
+he might converse with Orpheus and Musæus and Hesiod and Homer? Nay, if
+this be true, let me die again and again. I, too, shall have a wonderful
+interest in a place where I can converse with Palamedes, and Ajax the
+son of Telamon, and other heroes of old, who have suffered death through
+an unjust judgment; and there will be no small pleasure, as I think, in
+comparing my own sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall be able to
+continue my search into true and false knowledge; as in this world, so
+also in that; I shall find out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise,
+and is not. What would not a man give, O judges, to be able to examine
+the leader of the great Trojan expedition; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or
+numberless others, men and women too? What infinite delight would there
+be in conversing with them and asking them questions! For in that world
+they do not put a man to death for this; certainly not. For besides
+being happier in that world than in this, they will be immortal, if what
+is said is true.
+
+Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know this of a
+truth--that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after
+death. He and his are not neglected by the gods; nor has my own
+approaching end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that to die
+and be released was better for me; and therefore the oracle gave no
+sign. For which reason, also, I am not angry with my accusers or my
+condemners; they have done me no harm, although neither of them meant to
+do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them.
+
+Still I have a favor to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I would
+ask you, O my friends, to punish them, and I would have you trouble
+them, as I have troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or
+anything, more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be something
+when they are really nothing,--then reprove them, as I have reproved
+you, for not caring about that for which they ought to care, and
+thinking that they are something when they are really nothing. And if
+you do this, I and my sons will have received justice at your hands.
+
+The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways--I to die, and you
+to live. Which is better God only knows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Be of good cheer then, my dear Crito, and say that you
+    are burying my body only._
+
+        _Socrates, in the_ PHÆDO.--PLATO.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVI. THE EMPIRE OF THE CÆSARS.
+
+JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE.--1818-
+
+_From_ CÆSAR.
+
+
+Of Cæsar it may be said that he came into the world at a special time
+and for a special object. The old religions were dead, from the Pillars
+of Hercules to the Euphrates and the Nile, and the principles on which
+human society had been constructed were dead also. There remained of
+spiritual conviction only the common and human sense of justice and
+morality; and out of this sense some ordered system of government had to
+be constructed, under which quiet men could live, and labor, and eat the
+fruit of their industry. Under a rule of this material kind there can be
+no enthusiasm, no chivalry, no saintly aspirations, no patriotism of the
+heroic type. It was not to last forever. A new life was about to dawn
+for mankind. Poetry, and faith, and devotion were to spring again out of
+the seeds which were sleeping in the heart of humanity. But the life
+which is to endure grows slowly; and as the soil must be prepared before
+the wheat can be sown, so before the Kingdom of Heaven could throw up
+its shoots there was needed a kingdom of this world where the nations
+were neither torn in pieces by violence nor were rushing after false
+ideals and spurious ambitions. Such a kingdom was the Empire of the
+Cæsars--a kingdom where peaceful men could work, think, and speak as
+they pleased, and travel freely among provinces ruled for the most part
+by Gallios who protected life and property, and forbade fanatics to tear
+each other in pieces for their religious opinions. "It is not lawful for
+us to put any man to death," was the complaint of the Jewish priests to
+the Roman governor. Had Europe and Asia been covered with independent
+nations, each with a local religion represented in its ruling powers,
+Christianity must have been stifled in its cradle. If St. Paul had
+escaped the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem, he would have been torn to pieces by
+the silversmiths at Ephesus. The appeal to Cæsar's judgment-seat was the
+shield of his mission, and alone made possible his success.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVII. OF THE MYSTERY OF LIFE.
+
+JOHN RUSKIN--1819-
+
+_From_ SESAME AND LILIES.
+
+
+And now, returning to the broader question what these arts and labors of
+life have to teach us of its mystery, this is the first of their
+lessons--that the more beautiful the art, the more it is essentially the
+work of people who _feel themselves wrong_;--who are striving for the
+fulfilment of a law, and the grasp of a loveliness, which they have not
+yet attained, which they feel even farther and farther from attaining,
+the more they strive for it. And yet, in still deeper sense, it is the
+work of people who know also that they are right. The very sense of
+inevitable error from their purpose marks the perfectness of that
+purpose, and the continued sense of failure arises from the continued
+opening of the eyes more clearly to all the sacredest laws of truth.
+
+This is one lesson. The second is a very plain, and greatly precious
+one, namely:--that whenever the arts and labors of life are fulfilled
+in this spirit of striving against misrule, and doing whatever we have
+to do, honorably and perfectly, they invariably bring happiness, as much
+as seems possible to the nature of man. In all other paths, by which
+that happiness is pursued, there is disappointment, or destruction: for
+ambition and for passion there is no rest--no fruition; the fairest
+pleasures of youth perish in a darkness greater than their past light;
+and the loftiest and purest love too often does but inflame the cloud of
+life with endless fire of pain. But, ascending from lowest to highest,
+through every scale of human industry, that industry worthily followed,
+gives peace. Ask the laborer in the field, at the forge, or in the mine;
+ask the patient, delicate-fingered artisan, or the strong-armed,
+fiery-hearted worker in bronze, and in marble, and with the colors of
+light; and none of these, who are true workmen, will ever tell you, that
+they have found the law of heaven an unkind one--that in the sweat of
+their face they should eat bread, till they return to the ground; nor
+that they ever found it an unrewarded obedience, if, indeed, it was
+rendered faithfully to the command--"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to
+do--do it with thy might."
+
+These are the two great and constant lessons which our laborers teach us
+of the mystery of life. But there is another, and a sadder one, which
+they cannot teach us, which we must read on their tombstones.
+
+"Do it with thy might." There have been myriads upon myriads of
+human creatures who have obeyed this law--who have put every breath
+and nerve of their being into its toil--who have devoted every hour,
+and exhausted every faculty--who have bequeathed their unaccomplished
+thoughts at death--who being dead, have yet spoken, by majesty of
+memory, and strength of example. And, at last, what has all this
+"Might" of humanity accomplished, in six thousand years of labor and
+sorrow? What has it _done_? Take the three chief occupations and arts
+of men, one by one, and count their achievements. Begin with the
+first--the lord of them all--agriculture. Six thousand years have
+passed since we were set to till the ground, from which we were
+taken. How much of it is tilled? How much of that which is, wisely or
+well? In the very centre and chief garden of Europe--where the two
+forms of parent Christianity have had their fortresses--where the
+noble Catholics of the Forest Cantons, and the noble Protestants of
+the Vaudois valleys, have maintained, for dateless ages, their faiths
+and liberties--there the unchecked Alpine rivers yet run wild in
+devastation: and the marshes, which a few hundred men could redeem
+with a year's labor, still blast their helpless inhabitants into
+fevered idiotism. That is so, in the centre of Europe! While, on the
+near coast of Africa, once the Garden of the Hesperides, an Arab
+woman, but a few sunsets since, ate her child, for famine. And, with
+all the treasures of the East at our feet, we, in our own dominion,
+could not find a few grains of rice, for a people that asked of us
+no more; but stood by, and saw five hundred thousand of them perish
+of hunger.
+
+Then, after agriculture, the art of kings, take the next head of human
+arts--weaving; the art of queens, honored of all noble Heathen women, in
+the person of their virgin goddess--honored of all Hebrew women, by the
+word of their wisest king--"She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her
+hands hold the distaff; she stretcheth out her hand to the poor. She is
+not afraid of the snow for her household, for all her household are
+clothed with scarlet. She maketh herself covering of tapestry, her
+clothing is silk and purple. She maketh fine linen, and selleth it, and
+delivereth girdles to the merchant." What have we done in all these
+thousands of years with this bright art of Greek maid and Christian
+matron? Six thousand years of weaving, and have we learned to weave?
+Might not every naked wall have been purple with tapestry, and every
+feeble breast fenced with sweet colors from the cold? What have we done?
+Our fingers are too few, it seems, to twist together some poor covering
+for our bodies. We set our streams to work for us, and choke the air
+with fire, to turn our spinning-wheels,--and--_are we yet clothed_? Are
+not the streets of the capitals of Europe foul with the sale of cast
+clouts and rotten rags? Is not the beauty of your sweet children left in
+wretchedness of disgrace, while, with better honor, nature clothes the
+brood of the bird in its nest, and the suckling of the wolf in her den?
+And does not every winter's snow robe what you have not robed, and
+shroud what you have not shrouded; and every winter's wind bear up to
+heaven its wasted souls, to witness against you hereafter, by the voice
+of their Christ,--"I was naked, and ye clothed me not"?
+
+Lastly--take the Art of Building--the strongest-proudest--most
+orderly--most enduring of the arts of man, that of which the produce is
+in the surest manner accumulative, and need not perish, or be replaced;
+but if once well done will stand more strongly than the unbalanced
+rocks--more prevalently than the crumbling hills. The art which is
+associated with all civic pride and sacred principle; with which men
+record their power--satisfy their enthusiasm--make sure their
+defence--define and make dear their habitation. And, in six thousand
+years of building, what have we done? Of the greater part of all that
+skill and strength, _no_ vestige is left, but fallen stones, that
+encumber the fields and impede the streams. But from this waste of
+disorder, and of time, and of rage, what _is_ left to us? Constructive
+and progressive creatures, that we are, with ruling brains, and forming
+hands; capable of fellowship, and thirsting for fame, can we not
+contend, in comfort, with the insects of the forest, or, in achievement,
+with the worm of the sea? The white surf rages in vain against the
+ramparts built by poor atoms of scarcely nascent life; but only ridges
+of formless ruin mark the places where once dwelt our noblest
+multitudes. The ant and the moth have cells for each of their young, but
+our little ones lie in festering heaps, in homes that consume them like
+graves; and night by night, from the corners of our streets, rises up
+the cry of the homeless--"I was a stranger, and ye took me not in."
+
+Must it be always thus? Is our life forever to be without
+profit--without possession? Shall the strength of its generations be as
+barren as death; or cast away their labor, as the wild fig-tree casts
+her untimely figs? Is it all a dream then--the desire of the eyes and
+the pride of life--or, if it be, might we not live in nobler dream than
+this? The poets and prophets, the wise men, and the scribes, though they
+have told us nothing about a life to come, have told us much about the
+life that is now. They have had--they also,--their dreams, and we have
+laughed at them. They have dreamed of mercy, and of justice; they have
+dreamed of peace and good-will; they have dreamed of labor
+undisappointed, and of rest undisturbed; they have dreamed of fulness in
+harvest, and overflowing in store; they have dreamed of wisdom in
+council, and of providence in law; of gladness of parents, and strength
+of children, and glory of gray hairs. And at these visions of theirs we
+have mocked, and held them for idle and vain, unreal and
+unaccomplishable. What have we accomplished with our realities? Is this
+what has come of our worldly wisdom, tried against their folly? this our
+mightiest possible, against their impotent ideal? or have we only
+wandered among the spectra of a baser felicity, and chased phantoms of
+the tombs, instead of visions of the Almighty; and walked after the
+imaginations of our evil hearts, instead of after the counsels of
+Eternity, until our lives--not in the likeness of the cloud of heaven,
+but of the smoke of hell--have become "as a vapor, that appeareth for a
+little time, and then vanisheth away"?
+
+_Does_ it vanish then? Are you sure of that?--sure, that the nothingness
+of the grave will be a rest from this troubled nothingness; and that the
+coiling shadow, which disquiets itself in vain, cannot change into the
+smoke of the torment that ascends forever? Will any answer that they
+_are_ sure of it, and that there is no fear, nor hope, nor desire, nor
+labor, whither they go? Be it so; will you not, then, make as sure of
+the Life, that now is, as you are of the Death that is to come? Your
+hearts are wholly in this world--will you not give them to it wisely,
+as well as perfectly? And see, first of all, that you _have_ hearts,
+and sound hearts, too, to give. Because you have no heaven to look
+for, is that any reason that you should remain ignorant of this
+wonderful and infinite earth, which is firmly and instantly given you
+in possession? Although your days are numbered, and the following
+darkness sure, is it necessary that you should share the degradation
+of the brute, because you are condemned to its mortality; or live the
+life of the moth, and of the worm, because you are to companion them
+in the dust? Not so; we may have but a few thousands of days to
+spend, perhaps hundreds only--perhaps tens; nay, the longest of our
+time and best, looked back on, will be but as a moment, as the
+twinkling of an eye; still, we are men, not insects; we are living
+spirits, not passing clouds. "He maketh the winds His messengers; the
+momentary fire, His minister;" and shall we do less than _these_? Let
+us do the work of men while we bear the form of them; and, as we
+snatch our narrow portion of time out of Eternity, snatch also our
+narrow inheritance of passion out of Immortality--even though our
+lives _be_ as a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then
+vanisheth away.
+
+But there are some of you who believe not this--who think this cloud of
+life has no such close--that it is to float, revealed and illumined,
+upon the floor of heaven, in the day when He cometh with clouds, and
+every eye shall see Him. Some day, you believe, within these five, or
+ten, or twenty years, for every one of us the judgment will be set, and
+the books opened. If that be true, far more than that must be true. Is
+there but one day of judgment? Why, for us every day is a day of
+judgment--every day is a Dies Iræ, and writes its irrevocable verdict in
+the flame of its West. Think you that judgment waits till the doors of
+the grave are opened? It waits at the doors of your houses--it waits at
+the corners of your streets; we are in the midst of judgment--the
+insects that we crush are our judges--the moments we fret away are our
+judges--the elements that feed us, judge, as they minister--and the
+pleasures that deceive us, judge as they indulge. Let us, for our lives,
+do the work of Men while we bear the Form of them, if indeed those lives
+are _Not_ as a vapor, and do _Not_ vanish away.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVIII. THE ROBIN.
+
+JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.--1819-
+
+_From_ MY GARDEN ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+
+The return of the robin is commonly announced by the newspapers, like
+that of eminent or notorious people to a watering-place, as the first
+authentic notification of spring. And such his appearance in the orchard
+and garden undoubtedly is. But, in spite of his name of migratory
+thrush, he stays with us all winter, and I have seen him when the
+thermometer marked 15 degrees below zero of Fahrenheit, armed
+impregnably within, like Emerson's Titmouse, and as cheerful as he. The
+robin has a bad reputation among people who do not value themselves less
+for being fond of cherries. There is, I admit, a spice of vulgarity in
+him, and his song is rather of the Bloomfield sort, too largely
+ballasted with prose. His ethics are of the Poor Richard school, and the
+main chance which calls forth all his energy is altogether of the belly.
+He never has those fine intervals of lunacy into which his cousins, the
+catbird and the mavis, are apt to fall. But for a' that and twice as
+muckle 's a' that, I would not exchange him for all the cherries that
+ever came out of Asia Minor. With whatever faults, he has not wholly
+forfeited that superiority which belongs to the children of nature. He
+has a finer taste in fruit than could be distilled from many successive
+committees of the Horticultural Society, and he eats with a relishing
+gulp not inferior to Dr. Johnson's. He feels and freely exercises his
+right of eminent domain. His is the earliest mess of green peas; his all
+the mulberries I had fancied mine. But if he get also the lion's share
+of the raspberries, he is a great planter, and sows those wild ones in
+the woods, that solace the pedestrian and give a momentary calm even to
+the jaded victims of the White Hills. He keeps a strict eye over one's
+fruit, and knows to a shade of purple when your grapes have cooked long
+enough in the sun. During a severe drought a few years ago, the robins
+wholly vanished from my garden. I neither saw nor heard one for three
+weeks. Meanwhile a small foreign grape-vine, rather shy of bearing,
+seemed to find the dusty air congenial, and, dreaming perhaps of its
+sweet Argos across the sea, decked itself, with a score or so of fair
+bunches. I watched them from day to day till they should have secreted
+sugar enough from the sunbeams, and at last made up my mind that I would
+celebrate my vintage the next morning. But the robins too had somehow
+kept note of them. They must have sent out spies, as did the Jews into
+the promised land, before I was stirring. When I went with my basket, at
+least a dozen of these winged vintagers bustled out from among the
+leaves, and alighting on the nearest trees interchanged some shrill
+remarks about me of a derogatory nature. They had fairly sacked the
+vine. Not Wellington's veterans made cleaner work of a Spanish town; not
+Federals or Confederates were ever more impartial in the confiscation of
+neutral chickens. I was keeping my grapes a secret to surprise the fair
+Fidele with, but the robins made them a profounder secret to her than I
+had meant. The tattered remnant of a single bunch was all my
+harvest-home. How paltry it looked at the bottom of my basket,--as if a
+humming-bird had laid her egg in an eagle's nest! I could not help
+laughing; and the robins seemed to join heartily in the merriment. There
+was a native grape-vine close by, blue with its less refined abundance,
+but my cunning thieves preferred the foreign flavor. Could I tax them
+with want of taste?
+
+The robins are not good solo singers, but their chorus, as, like
+primitive fire-worshippers, they hail the return of light and warmth
+to the world, is unrivalled. There are a hundred singing like one.
+They are noisy enough then, and sing, as poets should, with no
+afterthought. But when they come after cherries to the tree near my
+window, they muffle their voices, and their faint _pip, pip, pop_!
+sounds far away at the bottom of the garden, where they know I shall
+not suspect them of robbing the great black-walnut of its
+bitter-rinded store.[P] They are feathered Pecksniffs, to be sure,
+but then how brightly their breasts, that look rather shabby in the
+sunlight, shine in a rainy day against the dark green of the
+fringe-tree! After they have pinched and shaken all the life out of
+an earthworm, as Italian cooks pound all the spirit out of a steak,
+and then gulped him, they stand up in honest self-confidence, expand
+their red waistcoats with the virtuous air of a lobby member, and
+outface you with an eye that calmly challenges inquiry. "Do _I_ look
+like a bird that knows the flavor of raw vermin? I throw myself upon
+a jury of my peers. Ask any robin if he ever ate anything less
+ascetic than the frugal berry of the juniper, and he will answer that
+his vow forbids him." Can such an open bosom cover such depravity?
+Alas, yes! I have no doubt his breast was redder at that very moment
+with the blood of my raspberries. On the whole, he is a doubtful
+friend in the garden. He makes his dessert of all kinds of berries,
+and is not averse from early pears. But when we remember how
+omnivorous he is, eating his own weight in an incredibly short time,
+and that Nature seems exhaustless in her invention of new insects
+hostile to vegetation, perhaps we may reckon that he does more good
+than harm. For my own part, I would rather have his cheerfulness and
+kind neighborhood than many berries.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[P] The screech-owl, whose cry, despite his ill name, is one of the
+sweetest sounds in nature, softens his voice in the same way with the
+most beguiling mockery of distance.--AUTHOR'S NOTE.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIX. THE OLD CRADLE.
+
+FREDERICK LOCKER.--1821-
+
+
+    And this was your Cradle? Why, surely, my Jenny,
+      Such cosy dimensions go clearly to show
+    You were an exceedingly small pickaninny
+      Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago.
+
+    Your baby-days flow'd in a much-troubled channel;
+      I see you, as then, in your impotent strife,
+    A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
+      Perplex'd with the newly-found fardel of Life.
+
+    To hint at an infantile frailty's a scandal;
+      Let bygones be bygones, for somebody knows
+    It was bliss such a Baby to dance and to dandle,--
+      Your cheeks were so dimpled, so rosy your toes.
+
+    Ay, here is your Cradle; and Hope, a bright spirit,
+      With Love now is watching beside it, I know.
+    They guard the wee nest it was yours to inherit
+      Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago.
+
+    It is Hope gilds the future, Love welcomes it smiling,
+      Thus wags this old world, therefore stay not to ask,
+    "My future bids fair, is my future beguiling?"
+      If mask'd, still it pleases--then raise not its mask.
+
+    Is Life a poor coil some would gladly be doffing?
+      He is riding post-haste who their wrongs will adjust;
+    For at most 'tis a footstep from cradle to coffin--
+      From a spoonful of pap to a mouthful of dust.
+
+    Then smile as your future is smiling, my Jenny;
+      I see you, except for those infantine woes,
+    Little changed since you were but a small pickaninny--
+      Your cheeks were so dimpled, so rosy your toes!
+
+    Ay, here is your Cradle, much, much to my liking,
+      Though nineteen or twenty long winters have sped.
+    Hark! As I'm talking there's six o'clock striking,--
+      It is time JENNY'S BABY should be in its bed.
+
+
+
+
+XC. RUGBY CHAPEL.
+
+NOVEMBER, 1857.
+
+MATTHEW ARNOLD.--1822-
+
+
+    Coldly, sadly descends
+    The autumn-evening. The field
+    Strewn with its dank yellow drifts
+    Of wither'd leaves, and the elms,
+    Fade into dimness apace,
+    Silent;--hardly a shout
+    From a few boys late at their play!
+    The lights come out in the street,
+    In the school-room windows--but cold,
+    Solemn, unlighted, austere,
+    Through the gathering darkness, arise
+    The chapel-walls, in whose bound
+    Thou, my father! art laid.
+
+    There thou dost lie, in the gloom
+    Of the autumn evening. But ah!
+    That word, _gloom_, to my mind
+    Brings thee back in the light
+    Of thy radiant vigor again:
+    In the gloom of November we pass'd
+    Days not dark at thy side;
+    Seasons impair'd not the ray
+    Of thy buoyant cheerfulness clear.
+    Such thou wast! and I stand
+    In the autumn evening, and think
+    Of bygone autumns with thee.
+
+    Fifteen years have gone round
+    Since thou arosest to tread,
+    In the summer-morning, the road
+    Of death, at a call unforeseen,
+    Sudden. For fifteen years,
+    We who till then in thy shade
+    Rested as under the boughs
+    Of a mighty oak, have endured
+    Sunshine and rain as we might,
+    Bare, unshaded, alone,
+    Lacking the shelter of thee.
+
+    O strong soul, by what shore
+    Tarriest thou now? For that force,
+    Surely, has not been left vain!
+    Somewhere, surely, afar,
+    In the sounding labor-house vast
+    Of being, is practis'd that strength,
+    Zealous, beneficent, firm!
+    Yes, in some far-shining sphere,
+    Conscious or not of the past,
+    Still thou performest the word
+    Of the Spirit in whom thou dost live--
+    Prompt, unwearied, as here!
+    Still thou upraisest with zeal
+    The humble good from the ground,
+    Sternly repressest the bad!
+    Still, like a trumpet, dost rouse
+    Those who with half-open eyes
+    Tread the border-land dim
+    'Twixt vice and virtue; reviv'st,
+    Succorest!--this was thy work.
+    This was thy life upon earth.
+
+    What is the course of the life
+    Of mortal men on the earth?--
+    Most men eddy about
+    Here and there--eat and drink,
+    Chatter and love and hate,
+    Gather and squander, are rais'd
+    Aloft, are hurl'd in the dust,
+    Striving blindly, achieving
+    Nothing; and then they die--
+    Perish--and no one asks
+    Who or what they have been,
+    More than he asks what waves,
+    In the moonlit solitudes mild
+    Of the midmost Ocean, have swell'd,
+    Foam'd for a moment, and gone.
+
+    And there are some, whom a thirst
+    Ardent, unquenchable, fires,
+    Not with the crowd to be spent,
+    Not without aim to go round
+    In an eddy of purposeless dust
+    Effort unmeaning and vain.
+    Ah yes! some of us strive
+    Not without action to die
+    Fruitless, but something to snatch
+    From dull oblivion, nor all
+    Glut the devouring grave!
+    We, we have chosen our path--
+    Path to a clear-purpos'd goal,
+    Path of advance!--but it leads
+    A long, steep journey, through sunk
+    Gorges, o'er mountains in snow.
+    Cheerful, with friends, we set forth--
+    Then, on the height, comes the storm.
+    Thunder crashes from rock
+    To rock, the cataracts reply;
+    Lightnings dazzle our eyes;
+    Roaring torrents have breach'd
+    The track, the stream-bed descends
+    In the place where the wayfarer once
+    Planted his footstep--the spray
+    Boils o'er its borders! aloft
+    The unseen snow-beds dislodge
+    Their hanging ruin!--alas,
+    Havoc is made in our train!
+    Friends, who set forth at our side,
+    Falter, are lost in the storm.
+    We, we only are left!--
+    With frowning foreheads, with lips
+    Sternly compress'd, we strain on
+    On--and at nightfall at last
+    Come to the end of our way,
+    To the lonely inn 'mid the rocks;
+    Where the gaunt and taciturn host
+    Stands on the threshold, the wind
+    Shaking his thin white hairs--
+    Holds his lantern to scan
+    Our storm-beat figures, and asks:
+    Whom in our party we bring?
+    Whom we have left in the snow?
+
+    Sadly we answer: We bring
+    Only ourselves! we lost
+    Sight of the rest in the storm.
+    Hardly ourselves we fought through,
+    Stripp'd, without friends, as we are.
+    Friends, companions, and train,
+    The avalanche swept from our side.
+
+    But thou would'st not _alone_
+    Be saved, my father! _alone_
+    Conquer and come to thy goal,
+    Leaving the rest in the wild.
+    We were weary; and we
+    Fearful, and we in our march
+    Fain to drop down and to die.
+    Still thou turnedst, and still
+    Beckonedst the trembler, and still
+    Gavest the weary thy hand.
+    If, in the paths of the world,
+    Stones might have wounded thy feet,
+    Toil or dejection have tried
+    Thy spirit, of that we saw
+    Nothing--to us thou wast still
+    Cheerful, and helpful, and firm!
+    Therefore to thee it was given
+    Many to save with thyself;
+    And, at the end of thy day,
+    O faithful shepherd! to come,
+    Bringing thy sheep in thy hand,
+    And through thee I believe
+    In the noble and great who are gone;
+    Pure souls honor'd and blest
+    By former ages, who else--
+    Such, so soulless, so poor,
+    Is the race of men whom I see--
+    Seem'd but a dream of the heart,
+    Seem'd but a cry of desire.
+    Yes! I believe that there liv'd
+    Others like thee in the past,
+    Not like the men of the crowd
+    Who all round me to-day
+    Bluster or cringe, and make life
+    Hideous, and arid, and vile;
+    But souls temper'd with fire,
+    Fervent, heroic, and good,
+    Helpers and friends of mankind.
+
+    Servants of God!--or sons
+    Shall I not call you? because
+    Not as servants ye knew
+    Your Father's innermost mind,
+    His, who unwillingly sees
+    One of his little ones lost--
+    Yours is the praise, if mankind
+    Hath not as yet in its march
+    Fainted, and fallen, and died!
+
+    See! In the rocks of the world
+    Marches the host of mankind,
+    A feeble, wavering line.
+    Where are they tending?--A God
+    Marshall'd them, gave them their goal.--
+    Ah, but the way is so long!
+
+    Years they have been in the wild!
+    Sore thirst plagues them, the rocks,
+    Rising all round, overawe;
+    Factions divide them, their host
+    Threatens to break, to dissolve.--
+    Ah, keep, keep them combined!
+    Else, of the myriads who fill
+    That army, not one shall arrive;
+    Sole they shall stray; on the rocks
+    Batter forever in vain,
+    Die one by one in the waste.
+
+    Then, in such hour of need
+    Of your fainting, dispirited race,
+    Ye, like angels, appear,
+    Radiant with ardor divine.
+    Beacons of hope, ye appear!
+    Languor is not in your heart,
+    Weakness is not in your word,
+    Weariness not on your brow.
+    Ye alight in our van! at your voice,
+    Panic, despair, flee away.
+    Ye move through the ranks, recall
+    The stragglers, refresh the outworn,
+    Praise, re-inspire the brave.
+    Order, courage, return;
+    Eyes rekindling, and prayers,
+    Follow your steps as ye go.
+    Ye fill up the gaps in our files,
+    Strengthen the wavering line,
+    Stablish, continue our march,
+    On, to the bound of the waste,
+    On, to the City of God.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _What know we greater than the soul?
+    On God and Godlike men we build our trust._
+
+        TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+XCI. IN THE ORILLIA WOODS.
+
+CHARLES SANGSTER.--1822-
+
+
+      My footsteps press where, centuries ago,
+      The Red Men fought and conquer'd; lost and won.
+      Whole tribes and races, gone like last year's snow,
+      Have found the Eternal Hunting-Grounds, and run
+      The fiery gauntlet of their active days,
+      Till few are left to tell the mournful tale:
+      And these inspire us with such wild amaze
+      They seem like spectres passing down a vale
+      Steep'd in uncertain moonlight, on their way
+      Towards some bourn where darkness blinds the day,
+      And night is wrapp'd in mystery profound.
+      We cannot lift the mantle of the past:
+      We seem to wander over hallow'd ground:
+    We scan the trail of Thought, but all is overcast.
+
+      THERE WAS A TIME--and that is all we know!
+      No record lives of their ensanguin'd deeds:
+      The past seems palsied with some giant blow,
+      And grows the more obscure on what it feeds.
+      A rotted fragment of a human leaf;
+      A few stray skulls; a heap of human bones!
+      These are the records--the traditions brief--
+      'Twere easier far to read the speechless stones.
+      The fierce Ojibwas, with tornado force,
+      Striking white terror to the hearts of braves!
+      The mighty Hurons, rolling on their course,
+      Compact and steady as the ocean waves!
+      The fiery Iroquois, a warrior host!
+    Who were they?--Whence?--And why? no human tongue can boast!
+
+
+
+
+XCII. MORALS AND CHARACTER IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
+
+GOLDWIN SMITH.--1823-
+
+_From_ COWPER.
+
+
+The world into which Cowper came was one very adverse to him, and at the
+same time very much in need of him. It was a world from which the spirit
+of poetry seemed to have fled. There could be no stronger proof of this
+than the occupation of the throne of Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton,
+by the arch-versifier Pope. The Revolution of 1688 was glorious, but
+unlike the Puritan Revolution which it followed, and in the political
+sphere partly ratified, it was profoundly prosaic. Spiritual religion,
+the source of Puritan grandeur and of the poetry of Milton, was almost
+extinct; there was not much more of it among the Nonconformists, who had
+now become to a great extent mere Whigs, with a decided Unitarian
+tendency. The Church was little better than a political force cultivated
+and manipulated by political leaders for their own purposes. The Bishops
+were either politicians, or theological polemics collecting trophies of
+victory over free-thinkers as titles to higher preferment. The inferior
+clergy as a body were far nearer in character to Trulliber than to Dr.
+Primrose; coarse, sordid, neglectful of their duties, shamelessly
+addicted to sinecurism and pluralities, fanatics in their Toryism and in
+attachment to their corporate privileges, cold, rationalistic, and
+almost heathen in their preachings, if they preached at all. The society
+of the day is mirrored in the pictures of Hogarth in the works of
+Fielding and Smollett; hard and heartless polish was the best of it; and
+not a little of it was _Marriage à la Mode_. Chesterfield, with his
+soulless culture, his court graces, and his fashionable immoralities,
+was about the highest type of an English gentleman; but the Wilkeses,
+Potters, and Sandwiches, whose mania for vice culminated in the
+Hell-fire Club, were more numerous than the Chesterfields. Among the
+country squires, for one Allworthy, or Sir Roger de Coverley, there were
+many Westerns. Among the common people religion was almost extinct, and
+assuredly no new morality or sentiment, such as Positivists now promise,
+had taken its place. Sometimes the rustic thought for himself, and
+scepticism took formal possession of his mind; but as we see from one of
+Cowper's letters, it was a coarse scepticism which desired to be buried
+with its hounds. Ignorance and brutality reigned in the cottage.
+Drunkenness reigned in palace and cottage alike. Gambling,
+cock-fighting, and bull-fighting were the amusements of the people.
+Political life, which, if it had been pure and vigorous, might have made
+up for the absence of spiritual influences, was corrupt from the top of
+the scale to the bottom: its effect on national character is portrayed
+in Hogarth's _Election_. That property had its duties as well as its
+rights, nobody had yet ventured to say or think. The duty of a gentleman
+towards his own class was to pay his debts of honor, and to fight a duel
+whenever he was challenged by one of his own order; towards the lower
+class his duty was none. Though the forms of government were elective,
+and Cowper gives us a description of the candidate at election time
+obsequiously soliciting votes, society was intensely aristocratic, and
+each rank was divided from that below it by a sharp line which precluded
+brotherhood or sympathy. Says the Duchess of Buckingham to Lady
+Huntingdon, who had asked her to come and hear Whitefield, "I thank
+your ladyship for the information concerning the Methodist preachers;
+their doctrines are most repulsive, and strongly tinctured with
+disrespect towards their superiors, in perpetually endeavoring to level
+all ranks and do away with all distinctions. It is monstrous to be told
+you have a heart as sinful as the common wretches that crawl on the
+earth. This is highly offensive and insulting; and I cannot but wonder
+that your ladyship should relish any sentiments so much at variance with
+high rank and good breeding. I shall be most happy to come and hear your
+favorite preacher." Her Grace's sentiments towards the common wretches
+that crawl on the earth were shared, we may be sure, by her Grace's
+waiting-maid. Of humanity there was as little as there was of religion.
+It was the age of the criminal law which hanged men for petty thefts, of
+life-long imprisonment for debt, of the stocks and the pillory, of a
+Temple Bar garnished with the heads of traitors, of the unreformed
+prison system, of the press-gang, of unrestrained tyranny and savagery
+at public schools. That the slave trade was iniquitous hardly any one
+suspected; even men who deemed themselves religious took part in it
+without scruple. But a change was at hand, and a still mightier change
+was in prospect. At the time of Cowper's birth, John Wesley was
+twenty-eight, and Whitefield was seventeen. With them the revival of
+religion, was at hand. Johnson, the moral reformer, was twenty-two.
+Howard was born, and in less than a generation Wilberforce was to come.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _That is best blood that hath most iron in 't
+    To edge resolve with, pouring without stint
+      For what makes manhood dear._
+
+        JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+
+
+XCIII. A LIBERAL EDUCATION.
+
+THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY.--1825-
+
+_From_ LAY SERMONS, ADDRESSES, AND REVIEWS.
+
+
+Suppose it were perfectly certain that the life and fortune of every one
+of us would, one day or other, depend upon his winning or losing a game
+at chess. Don't you think that we should all consider it to be a primary
+duty to learn at least the names and the moves of the pieces; to have a
+notion of a gambit, and a keen eye for all the means of giving and
+getting out of check? Do you not think that we should look with a
+disapprobation amounting to scorn, upon the father who allowed his son,
+or the state which allowed its members, to grow up without knowing a
+pawn from a knight?
+
+Yet it is a very plain and elementary truth, that the life, the
+fortune, and the happiness of every one of us, and, more or less,
+of those who are connected with us, do depend upon our knowing
+something of the rules of a game infinitely more difficult and
+complicated than chess. It is a game which has been played for
+untold ages, every man and woman of us being one of the two players
+in a game of his or her own. The chess-board is the world, the
+pieces are the phenomena of the universe, the rules of the game are
+what we call the laws of Nature. The player on the other side is
+hidden from us. We know that his play is always fair, just, and
+patient. But also we know, to our cost, that he never overlooks a
+mistake, or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance. To the man
+who plays well, the highest stakes are paid, with that sort of
+overflowing generosity with which the strong shows delight in
+strength. And one who plays ill is checkmated--without haste, but
+without remorse.
+
+My metaphor will remind some of you of the famous picture in which
+Retzsch has depicted Satan playing at chess with man for his soul.
+Substitute for the mocking fiend in that picture, a calm, strong angel,
+who is playing for love, as we say, and would rather lose than win--and
+I should accept it as an image of human life.
+
+Well, what I mean by Education, is learning the rules of this mighty
+game. In other words, education is the instruction of the intellect in
+the laws of Nature, under which name I include not merely things and
+their forces, but men and their ways; and the fashioning of the
+affections and of the will into an earnest and loving desire to move in
+harmony with those laws. For me, education means neither more nor less
+than this. Anything which professes to call itself education must be
+tried by this standard, and if it fails to stand the test, I will not
+call it education, whatever may be the force of authority, or of
+numbers, upon the other side.
+
+It is important to remember that, in strictness, there is no such thing
+as an uneducated man. Take an extreme case. Suppose that an adult man,
+in the full vigor of his faculties, could be suddenly placed in the
+world, as Adam is said to have been, and then left to do as he best
+might. How long would he be left uneducated? Not five minutes. Nature
+would begin to teach him, through the eye, the ear, the touch, the
+properties of objects. Pain and pleasure would be at his elbow telling
+him to do this and avoid that; and by slow degrees the man would receive
+an education, which, if narrow, would be thorough, real, and adequate to
+his circumstances, though there would be no extras and very few
+accomplishments.
+
+And if to this solitary man entered a second Adam, or, better still, an
+Eve, a new and greater world, that of social and moral phenomena, would
+be revealed. Joys and woes, compared with which all others might seem
+but faint shadows, would spring from the new relations. Happiness and
+sorrow would take the place of the coarser monitors, pleasure and pain;
+but conduct would still be shaped by the observation of the natural
+consequences of actions; or, in other words, by the laws of the nature
+of man.
+
+To every one of us the world was once as fresh and new as to Adam. And
+then, long before we were susceptible of any other mode of instruction,
+Nature took us in hand, and every minute of waking life brought its
+educational influence, shaping our actions into rough accordance with
+Nature's laws, so that we might not be ended untimely by too gross
+disobedience. Nor should I speak of this process of education as past
+for any one, be he as old as he may. For every man, the world is as
+fresh as it was at the first day, and as full of untold novelties for
+him who has the eyes to see them. And Nature is still continuing her
+patient education of us in that great university, the universe, of which
+we are all members--Nature having no Test-Acts.
+
+Those who take honors in Nature's university, who learn the laws which
+govern men and things, and obey them, are the really great and
+successful men in this world. The great mass of mankind are the "Poll,"
+who pick up just enough to get through without much discredit. Those who
+won't learn at all are plucked; and then you can't come up again.
+Nature's pluck means extermination.
+
+Thus the question of compulsory education is settled so far as Nature is
+concerned. Her bill on that question was framed and passed long ago.
+But, like all compulsory legislation, that of Nature is harsh and
+wasteful in its operation. Ignorance is visited as sharply as wilful
+disobedience--incapacity meets with the same punishment as crime.
+Nature's discipline is not even a word and a blow, and the blow first;
+but the blow without the word. It is left to you to find out why your
+ears are boxed.
+
+The object of what we commonly call education--that education in which
+man intervenes and which I shall distinguish as artificial education--is
+to make good these defects in Nature's methods; to prepare the child to
+receive Nature's education, neither incapably nor ignorantly, nor with
+wilful disobedience; and to understand the preliminary symptoms of her
+displeasure, without waiting for the box on the ear. In short, all
+artificial education ought to be an anticipation of natural education.
+And a liberal education is an artificial education, which has not only
+prepared a man to escape the great evils of disobedience to natural
+laws, but has trained him to appreciate and to seize upon the rewards
+which Nature scatters with as free a hand as her penalties.
+
+That man, I think, has had a liberal education, who has been so trained
+in youth that his body is the ready servant of his will, and does with
+ease and pleasure all the work that, as a mechanism, it is capable of;
+whose intellect is a clear, cold, logic engine, with all its parts of
+equal strength, and in smooth working order; ready, like a steam engine,
+to be turned to any kind of work, and spin the gossamers as well as
+forge the anchors of the mind; whose mind is stored with a knowledge of
+the great and fundamental truths of Nature and of the laws of her
+operations; one, who, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, but
+whose passions are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will, the
+servant of a tender conscience; who has learned to love all beauty,
+whether of Nature or of art, to hate all vileness, and to respect others
+as himself.
+
+Such an one and no other, I conceive, has had a liberal education; for
+he is, as completely as a man can be, in harmony with Nature. He will
+make the best of her, and she of him. They will get on together rarely;
+she as his ever beneficent mother; he as her mouth-piece, her conscious
+self, her minister and interpreter.
+
+
+
+
+XCIV. TOO LATE.
+
+DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK.--1826-
+
+
+    Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
+      In the old likeness that I knew,
+    I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
+      Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+    Never a scornful word should grieve ye,
+      I'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do,--
+    Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,
+      Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+    O to call back the days that are not!
+      My eyes were blinded, your words were few;
+    Do you know the truth now up in heaven,
+      Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?
+
+    I never was worthy of you, Douglas,
+      Not half worthy the like of you;
+    Now all men beside seem to me like shadows,--
+      I love _you_, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+    Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,
+      Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew,
+    As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,
+      Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+
+
+
+XCV. AMOR MUNDI.
+
+CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI.--1830-
+
+
+    "O where are you going with your love-locks flowing,
+      On the west wind blowing along this valley track?"
+    "The down-hill path is easy, come with me an it please ye,
+      We shall escape the up-hill by never turning back."
+
+    So they two went together in glowing August weather,
+      The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;
+    And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seem'd to float on
+      The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.
+
+    "Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven,
+      Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?"
+    "Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,
+      An undecipher'd solemn signal of help or hurt."
+
+    "Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly,
+      Their scent comes rich and sickly?" "A scaled and hooded worm."
+    "Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?"
+      "Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term."
+
+    "Turn again, O my sweetest,--turn again, false and fleetest:
+      This beaten way thou beatest, I fear is hell's own track."
+    "Nay, too steep for hill mounting; nay, too late for cost counting:
+      This down-hill path is easy, but there's no turning back."
+
+
+
+
+XCVI. TOUJOURS AMOUR.
+
+EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.--1833-
+
+
+      Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin,
+      At what age does love begin?
+      Your blue eyes have scarcely seen
+      Summers three, my fairy queen,
+      But a miracle of sweets,
+      Soft approaches, sly retreats,
+      Show the little archer there,
+      Hidden in your pretty hair;
+      When didst learn a heart to win?
+      Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin!
+      "Oh!" the rosy lips reply,
+      "I can't tell you if I try.
+    Tis so long I can't remember:
+      Ask some younger lass than I."
+
+      Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face,
+      Do your heart and head keep pace?
+      When does hoary Love expire,
+      When do frosts put out the fire?
+      Can its embers burn below
+      All that chill December snow?
+      Care you still soft hands to press,
+      Bonny heads to smooth and bless?
+      When does Love give up the chase?
+      Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face!
+      "Ah!" the wise old lips reply,
+      "Youth may pass and strength may die;
+    But of Love I can't foretoken:
+      Ask some older sage than I!"
+
+
+
+
+XCVII. ENGLAND.
+
+THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.--1836-
+
+
+    While men pay reverence to mighty things,
+    They must revere thee, thou blue-cinctured isle
+    Of England--not to-day, but this long while
+    In the front of nations, Mother of great kings,
+    Soldiers, and poets. Round thee the Sea flings
+    His steel-bright arm, and shields thee from the guile
+    And hurt of France. Secure, with august smile,
+    Thou sittest, and the East its tribute brings.
+    Some say thy old-time power is on the wane,
+    Thy moon of grandeur fill'd, contracts at length--
+    They see it darkening down from less to less.
+    Let but a hostile hand make threat again,
+    And they shall see thee in thy ancient strength,
+    Each iron sinew quivering, lioness!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Such kings of shreds have woo'd and won her,
+      Such crafty knaves her laurel own'd,
+    It has become almost an honor
+      Not to be crown'd._
+
+        THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
+            _On Popularity._
+
+
+
+
+XCVIII. ROCOCO.
+
+THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
+
+
+    By studying my lady's eyes
+      I've grown so learnèd day by day,
+    So Machiavelian in this wise,
+      That when I send her flowers, I say
+
+    To each small flower (no matter what,
+      Geranium, pink, or tuberose,
+    Syringa, or forget-me-not,
+      Or violet) before it goes:
+
+    "Be not triumphant, little flower,
+      When on her haughty heart you lie,
+    But modestly enjoy your hour:
+      She'll weary of you by-and-by."
+
+
+
+
+XCIX. KINGS OF MEN.
+
+JOHN READE.--1837-
+
+
+    As hills seem Alps, when veil'd in misty shroud,
+      Some men seem kings, through mists of ignorance;
+    Must we have darkness, then, and cloud on cloud,
+      To give our hills and pigmy kings a chance?
+    Must we conspire to curse the humbling light,
+      Lest some one, at whose feet our fathers bow'd,
+    Should suddenly appear, full length, in sight,
+      Scaring to laughter the adoring crowd?
+    Oh, no! God send us light!--Who loses then?
+      The king of slaves and not the king of men.
+    True kings are kings for ever, crown'd of God,
+      The King of Kings,--we need not fear for them.
+    'Tis only the usurper's diadem
+      That shakes at touch of light, revealing fraud.
+
+
+
+
+C. THALATTA! THALATTA!
+
+JOHN READE.
+
+
+    In my ear is the moan of the pines--in my heart is the song of
+              the sea,
+    And I feel his salt breath on my face as he showers his kisses
+              on me,
+    And I hear the wild scream of the gulls, as they answer the call
+              of the tide,
+    And I watch the fair sails as they glisten like gems on the breast
+              of a bride.
+
+    From the rock where I stand to the sun is a pathway of sapphire
+              and gold,
+    Like a waif of those Patmian visions that wrapt the lone seer
+              of old,
+    And it seems to my soul like an omen that calls me far over
+              the sea--
+    But I think of a little white cottage and one that is dearest to me.
+
+    Westward ho! Far away to the East is a cottage that looks to
+              the shore,--
+    Though each drop in the sea were a tear, as it was, I can see it
+              no more;
+    For the heart of its pride with the flowers of the "Vale of the
+              Shadow" reclines,
+    And--hush'd is the song of the sea and hoarse is the moan of
+              the pines.
+
+
+
+
+CI. THE FORSAKEN GARDEN.
+
+ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.--1837-
+
+
+    In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland,
+      At the sea-down's edge between windward and lee,
+    Wall'd round with rocks as an inland island,
+      The ghost of a garden fronts the sea.
+    A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses
+      The steep square slope of the blossomless bed
+    Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses
+          Now lie dead.
+
+    The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken,
+      To the low last edge of the long lone land.
+    If a step should sound or a word be spoken,
+      Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand?
+    So long have the gray bare walks lain guestless,
+      Through branches and briers if a man make way,
+    He shall find no life but the sea-wind's, restless
+          Night and day.
+
+    The dense hard passage is blind and stifled,
+      That crawls by a track none turn to climb
+    To the strait waste place that the years have rifled
+      Of all but the thorns that are touch'd not of time.
+    The thorns he spares when the rose is taken;
+      The rocks are left when he wastes the plain.
+    The wind that wanders, the weeds wind-shaken,
+          These remain.
+
+    Not a flower to be prest of the foot that falls not;
+      As the heart of a dead man the seed-plots are dry;
+    From the thicket of thorns whence the nightingale calls not,
+      Could she call, there were never a rose to reply.
+    Over the meadows that blossom and wither
+      Rings but the note of sea-bird's song;
+    Only the sun and the rain come hither
+          All year long.
+
+    The sun burns sere and the rain dishevels
+      One gaunt bleak blossom of scentless breath.
+    Only the wind here hovers and revels
+      In a round where life seems barren as death.
+    Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping,
+      Haply, of lovers none ever will know,
+    Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping
+          Years ago.
+
+    Heart handfast in heart as they stood, "Look thither,"
+      Did he whisper? "Look forth from the flowers to the sea;
+    For the foam-flowers endure when the rose-blossoms wither,
+      And men that love lightly may die--but we?"
+    And the same wind sang and the same waves whiten'd,
+      And or ever the garden's last petals were shed,
+    In the lips that had whisper'd, the eyes that had lighten'd,
+          Love was dead.
+
+    Or they lov'd their life through, and then went whither?
+      And were one to the end--but what end who knows?
+    Love deep as the sea as a rose must wither,
+      As the rose-red seaweed that mocks the rose.
+    Shall the dead take thought for the dead to love them?
+      What love was ever as deep as a grave?
+    They are loveless now as the grass above them
+          Or the wave.
+
+    All are at one now, roses and lovers,
+      Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the sea.
+    Not a breath of the time that has been hovers
+      In the air now soft with a summer to be.
+    Not a breath shall there sweeten the seasons hereafter
+      Of the flowers or the lovers that laugh now or weep,
+    When as they that are free now of weeping and laughter
+          We shall sleep.
+
+    Here death may deal not again for ever;
+      Here change may come not till all change end.
+    From the graves they have made they shall rise up never,
+      Who have left nought living to ravage and rend.
+    Earth, stones, and thorns of the wild ground growing,
+      When the sun and the rain live, these shall be;
+    Till a last wind's breath upon all these blowing
+          Roll the sea.
+
+    Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble,
+      Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink,
+    Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble
+      The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink,
+    Here now in his triumph where all things falter,
+      Stretch'd out on the spoils that his own hand spread,
+    As a god self-slain on his own strange altar,
+          Death lies dead.
+
+
+
+
+CII. A BALLAD TO QUEEN ELIZABETH OF THE SPANISH ARMADA.
+
+(BALLADE.)
+
+AUSTIN DOBSON.--1840-
+
+
+    King Philip had vaunted his claims;
+      He had sworn for a year he would sack us;
+    With an army of heathenish names
+      He was coming to fagot and stack us;
+    Like the thieves of the sea he would track us,
+      And shatter our ships on the main;
+    But we had bold Neptune to back us,--
+      And where are the galleons of Spain?
+
+    His carackes were christen'd of dames
+      To the kirtles whereof he would tack us;
+    With his saints and his gilded stern-frames,
+      He had thought like an egg-shell to crack us;
+      Now Howard may get to his Flaccus,
+    And Drake to his Devon again,
+      And Hawkins bowl rubbers to Bacchus,--
+    For where are the galleons of Spain?
+
+    Let his Majesty hang to St. James
+      The axe that he whetted to hack us;
+    He must play at some lustier games
+      Or at sea he can hope to out-thwack us;
+      To his mines of Peru he would pack us
+    To tug at his bullet and chain;
+      Alas! that his Greatness should lack us!--
+    But where are the galleons of Spain?
+
+
+          ENVOY.
+
+        GLORIANA!--the Don may attack us
+      Whenever his stomach be fain;
+      He must reach us before he can rack us, ...
+    And where are the galleons of Spain?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _He lives not best who dreads the coming pain
+      And shunneth each delight desirable:_
+    FLEE THOU EXTREMES, _this word alone is plain,
+      Of all that God hath given to Man to spell!_
+
+        ANDREW LANG.--1844.
+            _From Sonnets from the Antique._
+
+
+
+
+CIII. CIRCE.
+
+(TRIOLET.)
+
+AUSTIN DOBSON.
+
+
+    In the School of Coquettes
+      Madame Rose is a scholar:--
+    O, they fish with all nets
+    In the School of Coquettes!
+    When her brooch she forgets
+      'Tis to show her new collar;
+    In the School of Coquettes
+      Madame Rose is a scholar!
+
+
+
+
+CIV. SCENES FROM "TECUMSEH."[Q]
+
+CHARLES MAIR.--1840-
+
+
+SCENE.--TECUMSEH'S _Cabin_.
+
+_Enter_ IENA.
+
+_Iena._ 'Tis night, and Mamatee is absent still!
+Why should this sorrow weigh upon my heart,
+And other lonely things on earth have rest?
+Oh, could I be with them! The lily shone
+All day upon the stream, and now it sleeps
+Under the wave in peace--in cradle soft
+Which sorrow soon may fashion for my grave.
+Ye shadows which do creep into my thoughts--
+Ye curtains of despair! what is my fault,
+That ye should hide the happy earth from me?
+Once I had joy of it, when tender Spring,
+Mother of beauty, hid me in her leaves;
+When Summer led me by the shores of song,
+And forests and far-sounding cataracts
+Melted my soul with music. I have heard
+The rough chill harpings of dismantled woods,
+When Fall had stripp'd them, and have felt a joy
+Deeper than ear could lend unto the heart;
+And when the Winter from his mountains wild
+Look'd down on death, and, in the frosty sky,
+The very stars seem'd hung with icicles,
+Then came a sense of beauty calm and cold,
+That wean'd me from myself, yet knit me still
+With kindred bonds to Nature. All is past,
+And he--who won from me such love for him,
+And he--my valiant uncle and my friend,
+Comes not to lift the cloud that drapes my soul,
+And shield me from the fiendish Prophet's power.
+
+_Enter_ MAMATEE.
+
+Give me his answer in his very words!
+
+_Mamatee._ There is a black storm raging in his mind--
+His eye darts lightning like the angry cloud
+Which hangs in woven darkness o'er the earth.
+Brief is his answer--you must go to him.
+The Long-Knife's camp-fires gleam among the oaks
+Which dot yon western hill. A thousand men
+Are sleeping there cajoled to fatal dreams
+By promises the Prophet breaks to-night.
+Hark! 'tis the war-song.
+
+_Iena._                  Dares the Prophet now
+Betray Tecumseh's trust, and break his faith?
+
+_Mamatee._ He dares do anything will feed ambition.
+His dancing braves are frenzied by his tongue,
+Which prophesies revenge and victory.
+Before the break of day he will surprise
+The Long-Knife's camp, and hang our people's fate
+Upon a single onset.
+
+_Iena._              Should he fail?
+
+_Mamatee._ Then all will fail;--Tecumseh's scheme will fail.[R]
+
+_Iena._ It shall not! Let us go to him at once!
+
+_Mamatee._ And risk your life?
+
+_Iena._                        Risk hovers everywhere
+When night and man combine for darksome deeds.
+I'll go to him, and argue on my knees--
+Yea, yield my hand--would I could give my heart
+To stay his purpose and this act of ruin.
+
+_Mamatee._ He is not in the mood for argument.
+Rash girl! they die who would oppose him now.
+
+_Iena._ Such death were sweet as life--I go! But, first--
+Great Spirit! I commit my soul to Thee.      [_Kneels._
+
+
+SCENE.--_An open space in the forest near the Prophet's Town. A fire of
+billets burning. War-cries are heard from the town._
+
+_Enter the_ PROPHET.
+
+_Prophet._ My spells do work apace! Shout yourselves hoarse,
+Ye howling ministers by whom I climb!
+For this I've wrought until my weary tongue,
+Blister'd with incantation, flags in speech,
+And half declines its office. Every brave
+Inflamed by charms and oracles, is now
+A vengeful serpent, who will glide ere morn
+To sting the Long-Knife's sleeping camp to death.
+Why should I hesitate? My promises!
+My duty to Tecumseh! What are these
+Compared with duty here? Where I perceive
+A near advantage, there my duty lies;
+Consideration strong which overweighs
+All other reason. Here is Harrison--
+Trepann'd to dangerous lodgment for the night--
+Each deep ravine which grooves the prairie's breast
+A channel of approach; each winding creek
+A screen for creeping death. Revenge is sick
+To think of such advantage flung aside.
+For what? To let Tecumseh's greatness grow,
+Who gathers his rich harvest of renown
+Out of the very fields that I have sown!
+By Manitou, I will endure no more!
+Nor, in the rising flood of our affairs,
+Fish like an osprey for this eagle longer.
+                                           But, soft!
+It is the midnight hour when comes
+Tarhay to claim his bride. [_Calls._] Tarhay! Tarhay!
+
+_Enter_ TARHAY _with several braves._
+
+_Tarhay._ Tarhay is here!
+
+_Prophet._                The Long-Knives die to-night.
+The spirits which do minister to me
+Have breathed this utterance within my ear.
+You know my sacred office cuts me off
+From the immediate leadership in fight.
+My nobler work is in the spirit-world,
+And thence come promises which make us strong.
+Near to the foe I'll keep the Magic Bowl,
+Whilst you, Tarhay, shall lead our warriors on.
+
+_Tarhay._ I'll lead them; they are wild with eagerness.
+But fill my cold and empty cabin first
+With light and heat! You know I love your niece,
+And have the promise of her hand to-night.
+
+_Prophet._ She shall be yours!
+            [_To the braves._] Go bring her here at once--
+But, look! Fulfilment of my promise comes
+In her own person.
+
+_Enter_ IENA _and_ MAMATEE.
+
+                   Welcome, my sweet niece!
+You have forstall'd my message by these braves,
+And come unbidden to your wedding-place.
+
+_Iena._ Uncle! you know my heart is far away--
+
+_Prophet._ But still your hand is here! this little hand!
+                                    [_Pulling her forward._
+
+_Iena._ Dare you enforce a weak and helpless girl,
+Who thought to move you by her misery?
+Stand back! I have a message for you too.
+What means the war-like song, the dance of braves,
+And bustle in our town?
+
+_Prophet._              It means that we
+Attack the foe to-night.
+
+_Iena._                  And risk our all?
+O that Tecumseh knew! his soul would rush
+In arms to intercept you. What! break faith,
+And on the hazard of a doubtful strife,
+Stake his great enterprise and all our lives!
+The dying curses of a ruin'd race
+Will wither up your wicked heart for this!
+
+_Prophet._ False girl! your heart is with our foes;
+Your hand I mean to turn to better use.
+
+_Iena._ Oh, could it turn you from your mad intent
+How freely would I give it! Drop this scheme,
+Dismiss your frenzied warriors to their beds;
+And, if contented with my hand, Tarhay
+Can have it here.
+
+_Tarhay._         I love you, Iena!
+
+_Iena._ Then must you love what I do! Love our race!
+'Tis this love nerves Tecumseh to unite
+Its scatter'd tribes--his fruit of noble toil,
+Which you would snatch unripen'd from his hand,
+And feed to sour ambition. Touch it not--
+Oh, touch it not, Tarhay! and though my heart
+Breaks for it, I am yours.
+
+_Prophet._                 His anyway,
+Or I am not the Prophet!
+
+_Tarhay._                For my part
+I have no leaning to this rash attempt,
+Since Iena consents to be my wife.
+
+_Prophet._ Shall I be thwarted by a yearning fool!      [_Aside._
+This soft, sleek girl, to outward seeming good,
+I know to be a very fiend beneath--
+Whose sly affections centre on herself,
+And feed the gliding snake within her heart.
+
+_Tarhay._ I cannot think her so--
+
+_Mamatee._                        She is not so!
+There is the snake that creeps among our race;
+Whose venom'd fangs would bile into our lives,
+And poison all our hopes.
+
+_Prophet._                She is the head--
+The very neck of danger to me here,
+Which I must break at once! [_Aside._] Tarhay--attend!
+I can see dreadful visions in the air;
+I can dream awful dreams of life and fate;
+I can bring darkness on the heavy earth;
+I can fetch shadows from our fathers' graves,
+And spectres from the sepulchres of hell.
+Who dares dispute with me, disputes with death!
+Dost hear, Tarhay?
+
+[TARHAY _and braves cower before the_ PROPHET.
+
+_Tarhay._          I hear, and will obey.
+Spare me! Spare me!
+
+_Prophet._          As for this foolish girl,
+The hand she offers you on one condition,
+I give to you upon a better one;
+And, since she has no mind to give her heart--
+Which, rest assured, is in her body still--
+There,--take it at my hands!
+
+[_Flings_ IENA _violently towards_ TARHAY, _into whose arms she falls
+fainting, and is then borne away by_ MAMATEE.
+
+[_To_ TARHAY.] Go bring the braves to view the Mystic Torch
+And belt of Sacred Beans grown from my flesh--
+One touch of it makes them invulnerable--
+Then creep, like stealthy panthers, on the foe!
+
+
+SCENE.--_Morning. The field of Tippecanoe after the battle. The ground
+strewn with dead soldiers and warriors._
+
+_Enter_ HARRISON, _officers and soldiers, and_ BARRON.
+
+_Harrison._ A costly triumph reckon'd by our slain!
+Look how some lie still clench'd with savages
+In all-embracing death, their bloody hands
+Glued in each other's hair! Make burial straight
+Of all alike in deep and common graves:
+Their quarrel now is ended.
+
+_1st Officer._              I have heard
+The red man fears our steel--'twas not so here;
+From the first shots, which drove our pickets in,
+Till daylight dawn'd, they rush'd upon our lines,
+And flung themselves upon our bayonet points
+In frenzied recklessness of bravery.
+
+_Barron._ They trusted in the Prophet's rites and spells,
+Which promis'd them immunity from death.
+All night he sat on yon safe eminence,
+Howling his songs of war and mystery,
+Then fled, at dawn, in fear of his own braves.
+
+_Enter an_ AIDE.
+
+_Harrison._ What tidings bring you from the Prophet's Town?
+
+_Aide._ The wretched women with their children fly
+To distant forests for concealment. In
+Their village is no living thing save mice
+Which scamper'd as we oped each cabin door.
+Their pots still simmer'd on the vacant hearths,
+Standing in dusty silence and desertion.
+Naught else we saw, save that their granaries
+Were cramm'd with needful corn.
+
+_Harrison._                     Go bring it all--
+Then burn their village down!      [_Exit_ AIDE.
+
+_2nd Officer._                This victory
+Will shake Tecumseh's project to the base.
+Were I the Prophet I should drown myself
+Rather than meet him.
+
+_Barron._             We have news of him--
+Our scouts report him near in heavy force.
+
+_Harrison._ 'Twill melt, or draw across the British line,
+And wait for war. But double the night watch,
+Lest he should strike, and give an instant care
+To all our wounded men: to-morrow's sun
+Must light us on our backward march for home.
+Thence Rumor's tongue will spread so proud a story
+New England will grow envious of our glory;
+And, greedy for renown so long abhorr'd,
+Will on old England draw the tardy sword!
+
+
+SCENE.--_The Ruins of the Prophet's Town._
+
+_Enter the_ PROPHET, _who gloomily surveys the place._
+
+_Prophet._ Our people scatter'd, and our town in ashes!
+To think these hands could work such madness here--
+This envious head devise this misery!
+Tecumseh, had not my ambition drawn
+Such sharp and fell destruction on our race
+You might have smiled at me! for I have match'd
+My cunning 'gainst your wisdom, and have dragg'd
+Myself and all into a sea of ruin.
+
+_Enter_ TECUMSEH.
+
+_Tecumseh._ Devil! I have discover'd you at last!
+You sum of treacheries, whose wolfish fangs
+Have torn our people's flesh--you shall not live!
+
+[_The_ PROPHET _retreats facing and followed by_ TECUMSEH.
+
+_Prophet._ Nay--strike me not! I can explain it all!
+It was a woman touch'd the Magic Bowl,
+And broke the brooding spell.
+
+_Tecumseh._                   Impostor! Slave!
+Why should I spare you?      [_Lifts his hand as if to strike._
+
+_Prophet._              Stay, stay, touch me not!
+One mother bore us in the self-same hour.
+
+_Tecumseh._ Then good and evil came to light together.
+Go to the corn-dance, change your name to villain!
+Away! Your presence tempts my soul to mischief.
+                                          [_Exit the_ PROPHET _hastily._
+Would that I were a woman, and could weep,
+And slake hot rage with tears! O spiteful fortune,
+To lure me to the limit of my dreams,
+Then turn and crowd the ruin of my toil
+Into the narrow compass of a night!
+My brother's deep disgrace--myself the scorn
+Of envious harriers and thieves of fame,
+Who fain would rob me of the lawful meed
+Of faithful services and duties done--
+Oh, I could bear it all! But to behold
+Our ruin'd people hunted to their graves--
+To see the Long-Knife triumph in their shame--
+This is the burning shaft, the poison'd wound
+That rankles in my soul! But, why despair?
+All is not lost--the English are our friends.
+My spirit rises--manhood bear me up!
+I'll haste to Malden, join my force to theirs,
+And fall with double fury on our foes.
+Farewell ye plains and forests, but rejoice!
+Ye yet shall echo to Tecumseh's voice.
+
+_Enter_ LEFROY.
+
+_Lefroy._ What tidings have you glean'd of Iena?
+
+_Tecumseh._ My brother meant to wed her to Tarhay--
+The chief who led his warriors to ruin;
+But, in the gloom and tumult of the night,
+She fled into the forest all alone.
+
+_Lefroy._ Alone! In the wide forest all alone!
+Angels are with her now, for she is dead.
+
+_Tecumseh._ You know her to be skilful with the bow.
+'Tis certain she would strike for some great Lake--
+Erie or Michigan. At the Detroit
+Are people of our nation, and perchance
+She fled for shelter there. I go at once
+To join the British force.      [_Exit_ TECUMSEH.
+
+_Lefroy._                  But yesterday
+I climb'd to Heaven upon the shining stairs
+Of love and hope, and here am quite cast down.
+My little flower amidst a weedy world,
+Where art thou now? In deepest forest shade?
+Or onward, where the sumach stands array'd
+In autumn splendor, its alluring form
+Fruited, yet odious with the hidden worm?
+Or, farther, by some still sequester'd lake,
+Loon-haunted, where the sinewy panthers slake
+Their noon-day thirst, and never voice is heard
+Joyous of singing waters, breeze or bird,
+Save their wild wailings.--[_A halloo without._] 'Tis Tecumseh calls!
+Oh Iena! If dead, where'er thou art--
+Thy saddest grave will be this ruin'd heart!      [_Exit._
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Q] These scenes are enacted at the "Prophet's Town," an Indian
+village, situated at the junction of the Tippecanoe river with the
+Wabash, the latter a tributary of the Ohio. Tecumseh is gone on a
+mission to the Southern Indians to induce them to unite in a
+confederation of all the Indian tribes, leaving his brother, the
+Prophet, in charge of the tribes already assembled, having strictly
+enjoined upon him not to quarrel with the Americans, or Long-Knives,
+as the Indians called them, during his absence. General Harrison,
+Governor of Indiana, and commander of the American forces, having
+learned of Tecumseh's plans, marches to attack the Prophet; but the
+latter, pretending to be friendly, sends out some chiefs to meet
+Harrison. By the advice of these chiefs, the Americans encamp on an
+elevated plateau, near the Prophet's Town,--"a very fitting place,"
+to the mind of Harrison's officers, but to the practised eye of
+Harrison himself, also well fitted for a night attack by the Indians.
+He, therefore, very wisely makes all necessary preparations for
+defence against any sudden attack. Tecumseh has left behind him,
+under the protection of the Prophet, his wife, Mamatee, and his
+niece, Iena. He is accompanied on his mission by Lefroy, an English
+poet-artist, "enamoured of Indian life, and in love with Iena." The
+Prophet, who is hostile to Lefroy, intends to marry Iena to Tarhay,
+one of his chiefs, but Mamatee has gone to intercede with her
+brother-in-law for Iena, and, if possible, to turn him from his
+purpose.
+
+[R] Tecumseh had long foreseen that nothing but combination could
+prevent the encroachments of the whites upon the Ohio, and had long
+been successfully endeavoring to bring about a union of the tribes
+who inhabited its valley. The Fort Wayne treaties gave a wider scope
+to his design, and he now originated his great scheme of a federation
+of the entire red race. In pursuance of this object, his exertions,
+hitherto very arduous, became almost superhuman. He made repeated
+journeys, and visited almost every tribe from the Gulf of Mexico to
+the Great Lakes, and even north of them, and far to the west of the
+Mississippi. In order to further his scheme he took advantage of his
+brother's growing reputation as a prophet, and allowed him to gain a
+powerful hold upon the superstitious minds of his people by his
+preaching and predictions. The Prophet professed to have obtained
+from the Great Spirit a magic bowl, which possessed miraculous
+qualities; also a mystic torch, presumably from Nanabush, the keeper
+of the sacred fire. He asserted that a certain belt, said to make
+those invulnerable who touched it whilst in his hands, was composed
+of beans which had grown from his flesh; and this belt was circulated
+far and wide by Indian runners, finding its way even to the Red River
+of the North. These, coupled with his oratory and mummeries, greatly
+enhanced an influence which was possibly added to by a gloomy and
+saturnine countenance, made more forbidding still by the loss of an
+eye. Unfortunately for Tecumseh's enterprise, the Prophet was more
+bent upon personal notoriety than upon the welfare of his people;
+and, whilst professing the latter, indulged his ambition, in
+Tecumseh's absence, by a precipitate attack upon Harrison's force on
+the Tippecanoe. His defeat discredited his assumption of supernatural
+powers, led to distrust and defection, and wrecked Tecumseh's plan of
+independent action. But the protection of his people was Tecumseh's
+sole ambition; and, true statesman that he was, he joined the British
+at Amherstburg (Fort Malden), in Upper Canada, with a large force,
+and in the summer of 1812 began that series of services to the
+British interest which has made his name a household word in Canada,
+and endeared him to the Canadian heart.--_From_ AUTHOR'S NOTE.
+
+
+
+
+CV. THE RETURN OF THE SWALLOWS.
+
+EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE.--1849-
+
+
+    "Out in the meadows the young grass springs,
+      Shivering with sap," said the larks, "and we
+    Shoot into air with our strong young wings
+      Spirally up over level and lea;
+    Come, O Swallows, and fly with us
+    Now that horizons are luminous!
+      Evening and morning the world of light,
+      Spreading and kindling, is infinite!"
+
+    Far away, by the sea in the south,
+      The hills of olive and slopes of fern
+    Whiten and glow in the sun's long drouth,
+      Under the heavens that beam and burn;
+    And all the swallows were gather'd there
+    Flitting about in the fragrant air,
+      And heard no sound from the larks, but flew
+      Flashing under the blinding blue.
+
+    Out of the depths of their soft rich throats
+      Languidly fluted the thrushes, and said:
+    "Musical thought in the mild air floats,
+      Spring is coming and winter is dead!
+    Come, O Swallows, and stir the air,
+    For the buds are all bursting unaware,
+      And the drooping eaves and the elm-trees long
+      To hear the sound of your low sweet song."
+
+    Over the roofs of the white Algiers,
+      Flashingly shadowing the bright bazaar,
+    Flitted the swallows, and not one hears
+      The call of the thrushes from far, from far;
+    Sigh'd the thrushes; then, all at once,
+    Broke out singing the old sweet tones,
+      Singing the bridal of sap and shoot,
+      The tree's slow life between root and fruit.
+
+    But just when the dingles of April flowers
+      Shine with the earliest daffodils,
+    When, before sunrise, the cold clear hours
+      Gleam with a promise that noon fulfils,--
+    Deep in the leafage the cuckoo cried,
+    Perch'd on a spray by a rivulet-side,
+      "Swallows, O Swallows, come back again
+      To swoop and herald the April rain."
+
+    And something awoke in the slumbering heart
+      Of the alien birds in their African air,
+    And they paused, and alighted, and twitter'd apart,
+      And met in the broad white dreamy square;
+    And the sad slave woman, who lifted up
+    From the fountain her broad-lipp'd earthen cup,
+      Said to herself, with a weary sigh,
+      "To-morrow the swallows will northward fly!"
+
+
+
+
+CVI. DAWN ANGELS.
+
+A. MARY F. ROBINSON.--1856-
+
+
+    All night I watch'd, awake, for morning:
+      At last the East grew all aflame,
+    The birds for welcome sang, or warning,
+      And with their singing morning came.
+
+    Along the gold-green heavens drifted
+      Pale wandering souls that shun the light,
+    Whose cloudy pinions, torn and rifted,
+      Had beat the bars of Heaven all night.
+
+    These cluster'd round the Moon; but higher
+      A troop of shining spirits went,
+    Who were not made of wind or fire,
+      But some divine dream-element.
+
+    Some held the Light, while those remaining
+      Shook out their harvest-color'd wings,
+    A faint unusual music raining
+      (Whose sound was Light) on earthly things.
+
+    They sang, and as a mighty river
+      Their voices wash'd the night away:
+    From East to West ran one white shiver,
+      And waxen strong their song was Day.
+
+
+
+
+CVII. LE ROI EST MORT.
+
+A. MARY F. ROBINSON.
+
+
+    And shall I weep that Love's no more,
+    And magnify his reign?
+    Sure never mortal man before
+        Would have his grief again.
+    Farewell the long-continued ache,
+    The days a-dream, the nights awake,
+    I will rejoice and merry make,
+        And never more complain.
+
+    King Love is dead and gone for aye,
+    Who ruled with might and main,
+    For with a bitter word one day,
+        I found my tyrant slain,
+    And he in Heathenesse was bred,
+    Nor ever was baptized, 'tis said,
+    Nor is of any creed, and dead
+        Can never rise again.
+
+
+
+
+CVIII. TO WINTER.
+
+CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS.--1859-
+
+
+    Ruling with an iron hand
+    O'er the intermediate land
+    'Twixt the plains of rich completeness,
+    And the realms of budding sweetness,
+    Winter! from thy crystal throne,
+    With a keenness all thy own
+    Dartest thou, through gleaming air,
+    O'er the glorious barren glare
+    Of thy sunlit wildernesses,
+    Thine undazzled level glances,
+    Where thy minions' silver tresses
+    Stream among their icy lances;
+    While thy universal breathing,
+    Frozen to a radiant swathing
+    For the trees, their bareness hides,
+    And upon their sunward sides
+    Shines and flushes rosily
+    To the chill pink morning sky.
+    Skilful artists thou employest,
+    And in chastest beauty joyest--
+    Forms most delicate, pure, and clear,
+    Frost-caught starbeams fallen sheer
+    In the night, and woven here
+    In jewel-fretted tapestries.
+    But what magic melodies,
+    As in the bord'ring realms are throbbing,
+    Hast thou, Winter?--Liquid sobbing
+    Brooks, and brawling waterfalls,
+    Whose responsive-voicèd calls
+    Clothe with harmony the hills,
+    Gurgling meadow-threading rills,
+    Lakelets' lisping wavelets lapping
+    Round a flock of wild ducks napping,
+    And the rapturous-noted wooings,
+    And the molten-throated cooings,
+    Of the amorous multitudes
+    Flashing through the dusky woods,
+    When a veering wind hath blown
+    A glare of sudden daylight down?--
+    Naught of these!--And fewer notes
+    Hath the wind alone that floats
+    Over naked trees and snows;
+    Half its minstrelsy it owes
+    To its orchestra of leaves.
+    Ay! weak the meshes music weaves
+    For thy snarèd soul's delight,
+    'Less, when thou dost lie at night
+    'Neath the star-sown heavens bright,
+    To thy sin-unchokèd ears
+    Some dim harmonies may pierce
+    From the high-consulting spheres:
+    'Less the silent sunrise sing
+    Like a vibrant silver string
+    When its prison'd splendors first
+    O'er the crusted snow-fields burst.
+    But thy days the silence keep,
+    Save for grosbeaks' feeble cheep,
+    Or for snow-birds' busy twitter
+    When thy breath is very bitter.
+
+    So my spirit often acheth
+    For the melodies it lacketh
+    'Neath thy sway, or cannot hear
+    For its mortal-cloakèd ear.
+    And full thirstily it longeth
+    For the beauty that belongeth
+    To the Autumn's ripe fulfilling;--
+    Heapèd orchard-baskets spilling
+    'Neath the laughter-shaken trees;
+    Fields of buckwheat full of bees,
+    Girt with ancient groves of fir
+    Shod with berried juniper;
+    Beech-nuts mid their russet leaves;
+    Heavy-headed nodding sheaves;
+    Clumps of luscious blackberries;
+    Purple-cluster'd traceries
+    Of the cottage climbing-vines;
+    Scarlet-fruited eglantines;
+    Maple forests all aflame
+    When thy sharp-tongued legates came.
+
+    Ruler with an iron hand
+    O'er an intermediate land!
+    Glad am I thy realm is border'd
+    By the plains more richly order'd,--
+    Stock'd with sweeter-glowing forms,--
+    Where the prison'd brightness warms
+    In lush crimsons through the leaves,
+    And a gorgeous legend weaves.
+
+
+
+
+CIX. ABIGAIL BECKER.
+
+(_Off Long Point Island, Lake Erie, November 24th, 1854._)
+
+AMANDA T. JONES.
+
+
+    The wind, the wind where Erie plunged,
+      Blew, blew nor'-east from land to land;
+    The wandering schooner dipp'd and lunged,--
+      Long Point was close at hand.
+
+    Long Point--a swampy island-slant,
+      Where, busy in their grassy homes,
+    Woodcock and snipe the hollows haunt,
+      And musk-rats build their domes;
+
+    Where gulls and eagles rest at need,
+      Where either side, by lake or sound,
+    Kingfishers, cranes, and divers feed,
+      And mallard ducks abound.
+
+    The lowering night shut out the sight:
+      Careen'd the vessel, pitch'd and veer'd,--
+    Raved, raved the wind with main and might;
+      The sunken reef she near'd.
+
+    She pounded over, lurch'd, and sank;
+      Between two sand-bars settling fast,
+    Her leaky hull the waters drank,
+      And she had sail'd her last.
+
+    Into the rigging, quick as thought,
+      Captain and mate and sailors sprung,
+    Clamber'd for life, some vantage caught,
+      And there all night they swung.
+
+    And it was cold--oh, it was cold!
+      The pinching cold was like a vise:
+    Spoondrift flew freezing,--fold on fold
+      It coated them with ice.
+
+    Now when the dawn began to break,
+      Light up the sand-path drench'd and brown,
+    To fill her bucket from the lake,
+      Came Mother Becker down.
+
+    From where her cabin crown'd the bank
+      Came Abigail Becker tall and strong:
+    She dipp'd, and lo! a broken plank
+      Came rocking close along!
+
+    She pois'd her glass with anxious ken:
+      The schooner's top she spied from far,
+    And there she counted seven men
+      That clung to mast and spar.
+
+    And oh, the gale! the rout and roar!
+      The blinding drift, the mounting wave,
+    A good half-mile from wreck to shore,
+      With seven men to save!
+
+    Sped Mother Becker: "Children! wake!
+      A ship's gone down! they're needing me!
+    Your father's off on shore; the lake
+      Is just a raging sea!
+
+    "Get wood, cook fish, make ready all."
+      She snatch'd her stores, she fled with haste,
+    In cotton gown and tatter'd shawl,
+      Barefoot across the waste,
+
+    Through sinking sands, through quaggy lands,
+      And nearer, nearer, full in view,
+    Went shouting through her hollow'd hands:
+      "Courage! we'll get you through!"
+
+    Ran to and fro, made cheery signs,
+      Her bonfire lighted, steeped her tea,
+    Brought drift-wood, watch'd Canadian lines
+      Her husband's boat to see.
+
+    Cold, cold it was--oh, it was cold!
+      The bitter cold made watching vain:
+    With ice the channel laboring roll'd,--
+      No skiff could stand the strain.
+
+    On all that isle, from outer swell
+      To strait between the landings shut,
+    Was never place where man might dwell,
+      Save trapper Becker's hut.
+
+    And it was twelve and one and two,
+      And it was three o'clock and more.
+    She call'd: "Come on! there's nought to do,
+      But leap and swim ashore!"
+
+    Blew, blew the gale; they did not hear:
+      She waded in the shallow sea;
+    She waved her hands, made signals clear,
+      "Swim! swim, and trust to me!"
+
+    "My men," the captain cried, "I'll try:
+      The woman's judgment may be right;
+    For, swim or sink, seven men must die
+      If here we swing to-night."
+
+    Far out he mark'd the gathering surge;
+      Across the bar he watch'd it pour,
+    Let go, and on its topmost verge
+      Came riding in to shore.
+
+    It struck the breaker's foamy track,--
+      Majestic wave on wave uphurl'd,
+    Went grandly toppling, tumbling back,
+      As loath to flood the world.
+
+    There blindly whirling, shorn of strength,
+      The captain drifted, sure to drown;
+    Dragg'd seaward half a cable's length,
+      Like sinking lead went down.
+
+    Ah, well for him that on the strand
+      Had Mother Becker waited long!
+    And well for him her grasping hand
+      And grappling arm were strong!
+
+    And well for him that wind and sun,
+      And daily toil for scanty gains,
+    Had made such daring blood to run
+      Within such generous veins!
+
+    For what to do but plunge and swim?
+      Out on the sinking billow cast,
+    She toil'd, she dived, she groped for him,
+      She found and clutch'd him fast.
+
+    She climb'd the reef, she brought him up,
+      She laid him gasping on the sands;
+    Built high the fire and fill'd the cup,--
+      Stood up and waved her hands!
+
+    Oh, life is dear! The mate leap'd in.
+      "I know," the captain said, "right well,
+    Not twice can any woman win
+      A soul from yonder hell.
+
+    "I'll start and meet him in the wave."
+      "Keep back!" she bade: "what strength have you?
+    And I shall have you both to save,--
+      Must work to pull you through!"
+
+    But out he went. Up shallow sweeps
+      Raced the long white-caps, comb on comb:
+    The wind, the wind that lash'd the deeps,
+      Far, far it blew the foam.
+
+    The frozen foam went scudding by,--
+      Before the wind, a seething throng,
+    The waves, the waves came towering high,
+      They flung the mate along.
+
+    The waves came towering high and white.
+      They burst in clouds of flying spray:
+    There mate and captain sank from sight,
+      And, clinching, roll'd away.
+
+    Oh, Mother Becker, seas are dread,
+      Their treacherous paths are deep and blind!
+    But widows twain shall mourn their dead
+      If thou art slow to find.
+
+    She sought them near, she sought them far,
+      Three fathoms down she gripp'd them tight;
+    With both together up the bar
+      She stagger'd into sight.
+
+    Beside the fire her burdens fell:
+      She paus'd the cheering draught to pour,
+    Then waved her hands: "All's well! all's well!
+      Come on! swim! swim ashore!"
+
+    Sure, life is dear, and men are brave:
+      They came,--they dropp'd from mast and spar;
+    And who but she could breast the wave,
+      And dive beyond the bar?
+
+    Dark grew the sky from east to west,
+      And darker, darker grew the world:
+    Each man from off the breaker's crest
+      To gloomier deeps was hurl'd.
+
+    And still the gale went shrieking on,
+      And still the wrecking fury grew;
+    And still the woman, worn and wan,
+      Those gates of Death went through,--
+
+    As Christ were walking on the waves,
+      And heavenly radiance shone about,--
+    All fearless trod that gulf of graves
+      And bore the sailors out.
+
+    Down came the night, but far and bright,
+      Despite the wind and flying foam,
+    The bonfire flamed to give them light
+      To trapper Becker's home.
+
+    Oh, safety after wreck is sweet!
+      And sweet is rest in hut or hall:
+    One story Life and Death repeat,--
+      God's mercy over all.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Next day men heard, put out from shore,
+      Cross'd channel-ice, burst in to find
+    Seven gallant fellows sick and sore,
+      A tender nurse and kind;
+
+    Shook hands, wept, laugh'd, were crazy-glad;
+      Cried: "Never yet, on land or sea,
+    Poor dying, drowning sailors had
+      A better friend than she.
+
+    "Billows may tumble, winds may roar,
+      Strong hands the wreck'd from Death may snatch:
+    But never, never, nevermore
+      This deed shall mortal match!"
+
+    Dear Mother Becker dropp'd her head,
+      She blush'd as girls when lovers woo:
+    "I have not done a thing," she said,
+      "More than I ought to do."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
++------------------------------------------+
+|          Transcriber's notes:            |
++------------------------------------------+
+| Non-ascii diacritical marks represented  |
+|              as follows:                 |
+|------------------------------------------|
+|                                          |
+|     [=a] a macron      [)a] a breve      |
+|     [=e] e macron      [)e] e breve      |
+|     [=i] i macron      [)i] i breve      |
+|     [=o] o macron      [)o] o breve      |
+|     [=u] u macron      [)u] u breve      |
+|                                          |
+|         [a:] two dots under a            |
+|         [.a] dot over a                  |
++------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ontario Readers: The High School
+Reader, 1886, by Ministry of Education
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONTARIO READERS ***
+
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ontario Readers, The High School Reader, 1886, Department of Education, Canada, by Various.
+    </title>
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ontario Readers: The High School
+Reader, 1886, by Ministry of Education
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Ontario Readers: The High School Reader, 1886
+
+Author: Ministry of Education
+
+Release Date: November 27, 2006 [EBook #19923]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONTARIO READERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, Suzanne Lybarger and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="bbox"><p>Some diacritical marks and special characters may not be visible in all browsers.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<h3>The Ontario Readers.<br /><br /><br /></h3>
+
+<h1>THE</h1>
+<h1>HIGH SCHOOL READER.<br /><br /><br /></h1>
+
+<h4>AUTHORIZED FOR USE IN THE PUBLIC AND HIGH SCHOOLS<br />
+AND COLLEGIATE INSTITUTES OF ONTARIO BY THE<br />
+DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION.</h4>
+
+<h4>Toronto:</h4>
+<h3>ROSE PUBLISHING COMPANY.</h3>
+<h4>1886.<br /><br /><br /></h4>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h5><i>Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand<br />
+eight hundred and eighty-six, by the</i> <span class="smcap">Minister of Education</span> <i>for Ontario,<br />
+in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture</i>.<br /><br /><br /></h5>
+
+
+
+<h4>PRINTED AND BOUND BY<br />
+<span class="smcap">Hunter, Rose</span> <ins class="translit" title="ampersand">&#38;</ins> <span class="smcap">Co.</span>,<br />
+TORONTO.</h4>
+
+
+<h1><br /><br /><br />PREFACE.</h1>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> selections in the <span class="smcap">High School Reader</span> have been chosen with the belief
+that to pupils of such advancement as is required for entrance into High
+Schools and Collegiate Institutes, oral reading should be taught from the best
+literature, inasmuch as it not only affords a wide range of thought and sentiment,
+but it also demands for its appropriate vocal interpretation such powers
+of sympathy and appreciation as are developed only by culture; and it is to impart
+culture that these institutions of higher learning have been established.</p>
+
+<p>Experience has shown that it is from their ordinary reading books that pupils
+obtain their chief practical acquaintance with literature, and the selections here
+presented have been made with this in remembrance. They have been taken
+from the writings of authors of acknowledged representative character; and they
+have been arranged for the most part chronologically, so that pupils may unconsciously
+obtain some little insight into the history of the development of the
+literary art. They have also been so chosen as to convey a somewhat fair idea
+of the relative value and productivity of authorship in the three great English-speaking
+communities of the world<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the mother countries, our neighbours'
+country, and our own.</p>
+
+<p>While a limited space, if nothing else, prevents the collection here made from
+being a complete anthology, yet it does pretend to represent the authors selected
+in characteristic moods, and (in so far as is possible in a school book, and a
+reading text-book) to present a somewhat fair perspective of the world of authorship.
+It may be said that, if this be so, some names are conspicuously absent:
+McGee, Canada's poet-orator; Parkman, who has given to our country a place
+in the portraiture of nations; William Morris, the chief of the modern school of
+romanticism; Tyndall, who of the literature of science has made an art; Lamb,
+daintiest of humorists; Collins, "whose range of flight," as Swinburne says,
+"was the highest of his generation." Either from lack of space, or from some
+inherent unsuitableness in such selections as might otherwise have been made,
+it was found impossible to represent these names worthily; but as they are all
+more or less adequately represented in the <i>Fourth Reader</i>, the teacher who may
+wish to correct the perspective here presented may refer his pupils to the pieces
+from these authors there given. It may be added, too, that the body of recent
+literature is so enormous, that no adequate representation of it (at any rate as
+regards quantity) is possible within the limits of one book.</p>
+
+<p>The selections in poetry, with but three necessary exceptions, are complete
+wholes, and represent, as fairly as single pieces can, the respective merits and
+styles of their authors. The selections in prose cannot, of course, lay claim to
+this excellence; but they are all complete in themselves, or have been made so
+by short introductions; and it is hoped that they too are not unfairly representative
+of their authors. In many cases they are of somewhat unusual length;
+by this, however, they gain in interest and in representative character.</p>
+
+<p>In some of the prose selections, passages have occasionally been omitted, either
+because they interfered with the main narrative, or because, as they added nothing
+to it, to omit them would be a gain of space. In most cases these omissions
+are indicated by small asterisks.</p>
+
+<p>All the selections, both in prose and in verse, have been made with constant
+reference to their suitableness for the teaching of reading. They are fitted to
+exemplify every mode of expression, except, perhaps, that appropriate to a few
+of the stronger passions. It is not pretended that they are all simple and easy.
+Many of them will require much study and preparation before they can be read
+with that precision of expression which is necessary to perfect intelligibility. The
+chronological arrangement precludes grading; the teacher will decide in what
+order the selections are to be read.</p>
+
+<p>The introductory chapter is mainly intended to assist the teacher in imparting
+to his pupils a somewhat scientific knowledge of the art of reading. Of course
+the teacher will choose for himself his mode of dealing with the chapter, but it
+has been written with the thought that he should use it as a convenient series of
+texts, which he might expand and illustrate in accordance with his opportunities
+and judgment. Examples for illustration are indispensable to the successful
+study of the principles described, and they should be sought for and obtained by
+the teacher and pupils together (whenever possible they should be taken from
+the <span class="smcap">Reader</span>), and should be kept labeled for reference and practice. If the application
+of these principles be thus practically made by the pupils themselves,
+they will receive a much more lasting impression of their meaning and value than
+if the examples were given to them at no cost of thought or search on their part.</p>
+
+<p>To the teacher it is recommended that he should not be contented with the
+short and necessarily imperfect exposition of the art of reading therein given.
+The more familiar he is with the scientific principles the more successfully will he
+be able to direct the studies and practices of his pupils. Works on elocution are
+numerous and accessible. Dr. Rush's <i>Philosophy of the Voice</i> is perhaps the
+foundation of all subsequent good work in the exposition of voice culture. Professor
+Murdoch's <i>Analytic Elocution</i> is an exhaustive and scholarly treatise
+based upon it, and to the plan of treatment therein fully developed the practical
+part of the introductory chapter has largely conformed.</p>
+
+<p>The pleasing task remains of thanking those authors who have so kindly responded
+to requests for permission to use selections from their works: to President
+Wilson, for a sonnet from <i>Spring Wild Roses</i>, and for <i>Our Ideal</i>; to Mr.
+Charles Sangster, for two sonnets from <i>Hesperus</i>; to Mr. John Reade, for two
+poems from <i>The Prophecy of Merlin</i>; to Mr. Charles Mair, for the scenes from
+<i>Tecumseh</i>; and to Professor C. G. D. Roberts, for <i>To Winter</i>.</p>
+
+<p>To Miss A. T. Jones, thanks are due for permission to use <i>Abigail Becker</i>,
+recently published in the <i>Century Magazine</i>. The heroic acts described in this
+poem seem so wonderful, so greatly superior to woman's strength, even to human
+strength and endurance, to accomplish, that were it possible to doubt its
+truthfulness, doubt one certainly would. Nevertheless the poem is not only
+strictly in accordance with the facts, it is even within and below them.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+
+<h1><a name="contents" id="contents"></a><a name="anchor_contents" id="anchor_contents"></a>CONTENTS.</h1>
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h5><i>(The Titles of the Selections in Poetry are printed in Italics.)</i></h5>
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<table summary="table of contents">
+<colgroup span="4">
+<col width="2%"></col>
+<col width="73%"></col>
+<col width="23%"></col>
+<col width="2%"></col>
+</colgroup>
+<tr>
+<th class="tda">NUMBER.</th>
+<th class="tdb">TITLE.</th>
+<th class="tdb">AUTHOR.</th>
+<th class="tdc">PAGE.</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">I.</td>
+<td class="tdb">King Solomon's Prayer and Blessing at the Dedication of the Temple.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Holy Bible</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_i" id="anchor_i"></a><a href="#i">33</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">II.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Invitation.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Holy Bible</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_ii" id="anchor_ii"></a><a href="#ii">39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">III.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Trial Scene in the "Merchant of Venice."</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_iii" id="anchor_iii"></a><a href="#Page_40b">40</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">IV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Of Boldness.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Bacon</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_iv" id="anchor_iv"></a><a href="#iv">53</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">V.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>To Daffodils.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Herrick</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_v" id="anchor_v"></a><a href="#v">55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">VI.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Of Contentedness in all Estates and Accidents.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Taylor</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_vi" id="anchor_vi"></a><a href="#vi">56</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">VII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>To Lucasta, on Going to the Wars.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lovelace</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_vii" id="anchor_vii"></a><a href="#vii">61</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">VIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Angling.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Walton</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_viii" id="anchor_viii"></a><a href="#viii">62</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">IX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>On the Morning of Christ's Nativity.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Milton</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_ix" id="anchor_ix"></a><a href="#ix">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">X.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Character of Lord Falkland.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Clarendon</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_x" id="anchor_x"></a><a href="#x">76</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Veni, Creator Spiritus.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dryden</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xi" id="anchor_xi"></a><a href="#xi">81</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Lines printed under the Portrait of Milton.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dryden</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xii" id="anchor_xii"></a><a href="#xii">82</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Reason.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dryden</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xiii" id="anchor_xiii"></a><a href="#xiii">83</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">On the Love of Country as a Principle of Action.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Steele</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xiv" id="anchor_xiv"></a><a href="#xiv">83</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Golden Scales.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Addison</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xv" id="anchor_xv"></a><a href="#xv">88</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Misjudged Hospitality.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Swift</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xvi" id="anchor_xvi"></a><a href="#xvi">93</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>From the "Essay on Man."</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Pope</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xvii" id="anchor_xvii"></a><a href="#xvii">96</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Rule, Britannia.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Thomson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xviii" id="anchor_xviii"></a><a href="#xviii">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The First Crusade.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hume</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xix" id="anchor_xix"></a><a href="#xix">102</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Bard.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Gray</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xx" id="anchor_xx"></a><a href="#xx">111</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXI.</td>
+<td class="tdb">On an Address to the Throne concerning Affairs in America.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chatham</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxi" id="anchor_xxi"></a><a href="#xxi">116</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">From "The Vicar of Wakefield."</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Goldsmith</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxii" id="anchor_xxii"></a><a href="#xxii">127</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Meeting of Johnson with Wilkes.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Boswell</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxiii" id="anchor_xxiii"></a><a href="#xxiii">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Policy of the Empire in the First Century.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Gibbon</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxiv" id="anchor_xxiv"></a><a href="#xxiv">142</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">On the Attacks upon his Pension.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Burke</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxv" id="anchor_xxv"></a><a href="#xxv">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Two Eighteenth Century Scenes.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Cowper</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxvi" id="anchor_xxvi"></a><a href="#xxvi">155</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">From "The School for Scandal."</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Sheridan</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxvii" id="anchor_xxvii"></a><a href="#xxvii">159</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Cotter's Saturday Night.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Burns</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxviii" id="anchor_xxviii"></a><a href="#xxviii">171</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Land o' the Leal.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lady Nairn</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxix" id="anchor_xxix"></a><a href="#xxix">177</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXX.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Trial by Combat at the Diamond of the Desert.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Scott</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxx" id="anchor_xxx"></a><a href="#xxx">179</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXXI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>To a Highland Girl.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxxi" id="anchor_xxxi"></a><a href="#xxxi">202</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXXII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>France: an Ode.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Coleridge</span> </td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxxii" id="anchor_xxxii"></a><a href="#xxxii">205</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXXIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Complaint and Reproof.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Coleridge</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxxiii" id="anchor_xxxiii"></a><a href="#xxxiii">208</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXXIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Well of St. Keyne.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Southey</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxxiv" id="anchor_xxxiv"></a><a href="#xxxiv">209</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXXV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Isles of Greece.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Byron</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxxv" id="anchor_xxxv"></a><a href="#xxxv">211</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXXVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Go where Glory Waits Thee.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Moore</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxxvi" id="anchor_xxxvi"></a><a href="#xxxvi">214</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXXVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Dear Harp of My Country.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Moore</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxxvii" id="anchor_xxxvii"></a><a href="#xxxvii">215</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXXVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Come, ye Disconsolate.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Moore</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxxviii" id="anchor_xxxviii"></a><a href="#xxxviii">216</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXXIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>On a Lock of Milton's Hair.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hunt</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xxxix" id="anchor_xxxix"></a><a href="#xxxix">217</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XL.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Glove and the Lions.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hunt</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xl" id="anchor_xl"></a><a href="#xl">217</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XLI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Cloud.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Shelley</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xli" id="anchor_xli"></a><a href="#xli">219</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XLII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>On First Looking into Chapman's Homer.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Keats</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xlii" id="anchor_xlii"></a><a href="#xlii">222</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XLIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>On the Grasshopper and the Cricket.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Keats</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xliii" id="anchor_xliii"></a><a href="#xliii">222</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XLIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Power and Danger of the C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sars.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">De Quincey</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xliv" id="anchor_xliv"></a><a href="#xliv">223</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XLV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Unthoughtfulness.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dr. Arnold</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xlv" id="anchor_xlv"></a><a href="#xlv">227</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XLVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Bridge of Sighs.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hood</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xlvi" id="anchor_xlvi"></a><a href="#xlvi">234</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XLVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>A Parental Ode to my Son.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hood</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xlvii" id="anchor_xlvii"></a><a href="#xlvii">237</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XLVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Metaphysics.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Haliburton</span> </td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xlviii" id="anchor_xlviii"></a><a href="#xlviii">239</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XLIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Indian Summer.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lover</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xlix" id="anchor_xlix"></a><a href="#xlix">246</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">L.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>To Helen.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Praed</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_l" id="anchor_l"></a><a href="#l">246</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Horatius.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Macaulay</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_li" id="anchor_li"></a><a href="#li">247</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Raven.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Poe</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lii" id="anchor_lii"></a><a href="#lii">258</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">David Swan<ins class="translit" title="&#8212;">&#8212;</ins>A Fantasy.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hawthorne</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_liii" id="anchor_liii"></a><a href="#liii">262</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>My Kate.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Browning</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_liv" id="anchor_liv"></a><a href="#liv">270</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>A Dead Rose.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Browning</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lv" id="anchor_lv"></a><a href="#lv">271</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>To the Evening Wind.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Bryant</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lvi" id="anchor_lvi"></a><a href="#lvi">272</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Death of the Protector.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Carlyle</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lvii" id="anchor_lvii"></a><a href="#lvii">274</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Each and All.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Emerson</span> </td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lviii" id="anchor_lviii"></a><a href="#lviii">282</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Waterloo.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lever</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lix" id="anchor_lix"></a><a href="#lix">284</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Diver.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lytton</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lx" id="anchor_lx"></a><a href="#lx">294</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXI.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Plague of Locusts.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Newman</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxi" id="anchor_lxi"></a><a href="#lxi">299</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Cane-bottom'd Chair.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Thackeray</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxii" id="anchor_lxii"></a><a href="#lxii">306</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Reconciliation.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Thackeray</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxiii" id="anchor_lxiii"></a><a href="#lxiii">308</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Island of the Scots.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Aytoun</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxiv" id="anchor_lxiv"></a><a href="#lxiv">315</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Gambling Party.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Beaconsfield</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxv" id="anchor_lxv"></a><a href="#lxv">321</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Pickwickians Disport themselves on Ice.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dickens</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxvi" id="anchor_lxvi"></a><a href="#lxvi">327</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Hanging of the Crane.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Longfellow</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxvii" id="anchor_lxvii"></a><a href="#lxvii">336</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Earthworms.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Darwin</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxviii" id="anchor_lxviii"></a><a href="#lxviii">342</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb">"<i>As Ships, Becalmed at Eve.</i>"</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Clough</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxix" id="anchor_lxix"></a><a href="#lxix">346</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Duty.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Clough</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxx" id="anchor_lxx"></a><a href="#lxx">347</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Sonnets.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Heavysege</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxi" id="anchor_lxxi"></a><a href="#lxxi">349</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Dr. Arnold at Rugby.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dean Stanley</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxii" id="anchor_lxxii"></a><a href="#lxxii">350</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Ode to the North-east Wind.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Kingsley</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxiii" id="anchor_lxxiii"></a><a href="#lxxiii">354</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">From "The Mill on the Floss."</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">George Eliot</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxiv" id="anchor_lxxiv"></a><a href="#lxxiv">356</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Cloud Confines.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Rossetti</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxv" id="anchor_lxxv"></a><a href="#lxxv">359</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Barbara Frietchie.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Whittier</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxvi" id="anchor_lxxvi"></a><a href="#lxxvi">361</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Contentment.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Holmes</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxvii" id="anchor_lxxvii"></a><a href="#lxxvii">364</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The British Constitution.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Gladstone</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxviii" id="anchor_lxxviii"></a><a href="#lxxviii">367</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Lord of Burleigh.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxix" id="anchor_lxxix"></a><a href="#lxxix">370</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXX.</td>
+<td class="tdb">"<i>Break, Break, Break.</i>"</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxx" id="anchor_lxxx"></a><a href="#lxxx">373</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXXI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The "Revenge".</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxxi" id="anchor_lxxxi"></a><a href="#lxxxi">373</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXXII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Herv</i><ins class="translit" title="e acute"><i>&#233;</i></ins> <i>Riel.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Browning</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxxii" id="anchor_lxxxii"></a><a href="#lxxxii">378</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXXIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Sonnet.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dr. Wilson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxxiii" id="anchor_lxxxiii"></a><a href="#lxxxiii">383</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXXIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Our Ideal.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dr. Wilson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxxiv" id="anchor_lxxxiv"></a><a href="#lxxxiv">383</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXXV.</td>
+<td class="tdb">From the Apology of Socrates.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Jowett</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxxv" id="anchor_lxxxv"></a><a href="#lxxxv">384</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXXVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Empire of the C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sars.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Froude</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxxvi" id="anchor_lxxxvi"></a><a href="#lxxxvi">389</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXXVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Of the Mystery of Life.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Ruskin</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxxvii" id="anchor_lxxxvii"></a><a href="#lxxxvii">390</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXXVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">The Robin.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lowell</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxxviii" id="anchor_lxxxviii"></a><a href="#lxxxviii">397</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">LXXXIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Old Cradle.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Locker</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_lxxxix" id="anchor_lxxxix"></a><a href="#lxxxix">400</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XC.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Rugby Chapel.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Matt. Arnold</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xc" id="anchor_xc"></a><a href="#xc">401</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XCI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>In the Orillia Woods.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Sangster</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xci" id="anchor_xci"></a><a href="#xci">408</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XCII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">Morals and Character in the Eighteenth Century.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Goldwin Smith</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xcii" id="anchor_xcii"></a><a href="#xcii">409</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XCIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb">A Liberal Education.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Huxley</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xciii" id="anchor_xciii"></a><a href="#xciii">412</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XCIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Too Late.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Craik</span> </td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xciv" id="anchor_xciv"></a><a href="#xciv">416</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XCV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Amor Mundi.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Miss Rossetti</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xcv" id="anchor_xcv"></a><a href="#xcv">417</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XCVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Toujours Amour.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Stedman</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xcvi" id="anchor_xcvi"></a><a href="#xcvi">418</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XCVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>England.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Aldrich</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xcvii" id="anchor_xcvii"></a><a href="#xcvii">419</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XCVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Rococo.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Aldrich</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xcviii" id="anchor_xcviii"></a><a href="#xcviii">420</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XCIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Kings of Men.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">John Reade</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_xcix" id="anchor_xcix"></a><a href="#xcix">420</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">C.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Thalatta! Thalatta!</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">John Reade</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_c" id="anchor_c"></a><a href="#c">421</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">CI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Forsaken Garden.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Swinburne</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_ci" id="anchor_ci"></a><a href="#ci">422</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">CII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>A Ballad To Queen Elizabeth of the Spanish Armada.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dobson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_cii" id="anchor_cii"></a><a href="#cii">424</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">CIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Circe.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dobson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_ciii" id="anchor_ciii"></a><a href="#ciii">426</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">CIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Scenes from "Tecumseh."</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Mair</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_civ" id="anchor_civ"></a><a href="#civ">426</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">CV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Return of the Swallows.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Gosse</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_cv" id="anchor_cv"></a><a href="#cv">437</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">CVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Dawn Angels.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Miss Robinson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_cvi" id="anchor_cvi"></a><a href="#cvi">438</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">CVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Le Roi Est Mort.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Miss Robinson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_cvii" id="anchor_cvii"></a><a href="#cvii">439</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">CVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>To Winter.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Roberts</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_cviii" id="anchor_cviii"></a><a href="#cviii">440</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">CIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Abigail Becker.</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Miss Jones</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a name="anchor_cix" id="anchor_cix"></a><a href="#cix">442</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><a name="SHORT_EXTRACTS" id="SHORT_EXTRACTS"></a>SHORT EXTRACTS.</h2>
+<table summary="short extracts">
+<colgroup span="3">
+<col width="70%"></col>
+<col width="28%"></col>
+<col width="2%"></col>
+</colgroup>
+<tr>
+<th class="tdb">FIRST LINES.</th>
+<th class="tdb">AUTHOR.</th>
+<th class="tdc">PAGE.</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb">He that cannot see well</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Bacon</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Stone walls do not a prison make</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lovelace</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb">When the heart is right</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Berkeley</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>It must be so</i><ins class="translit" title="&#8212;">&#8212;</ins><i>Plato, thou reasonest well</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Addison</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>England, with all thy faults, I love thee still</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Cowper</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Cowper</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Burns</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Life! we've been long together</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Barbauld</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Rough wind, that moanest loud</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Shelley</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>There is a book, who runs may read</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Keble</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>There is no great and no small</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Emerson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Wellington, Thy great work is but begun</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Rossetti</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Sacrifice and self-devotion</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lord Houghton</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Flower in the crannied wall</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_366">366</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>It fortifies my soul to know</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Clough</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_369">369</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>And yet, dear heart! remembering thee</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Whittier</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_372">372</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>There is no land like England</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_377">377</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>The Summum Pulchrum rests in heaven above</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Clough</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_382">382</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb">Be of good cheer then, my dear Crito</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Socrates</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_388">388</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>What know we greater than the soul</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_407">407</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>That is best blood that hath most iron in't</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lowell</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_411">411</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><i>Such kings of shreds have woo'd and won her</i></td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Aldrich</span> </td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_419">419</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><a name="INDEX_OF_AUTHORS" id="INDEX_OF_AUTHORS"></a>INDEX OF AUTHORS.</h2>
+
+<table summary="index of authors">
+<colgroup span="2">
+<col width="60%"></col>
+<col width="40%"></col>
+</colgroup>
+<tr>
+<th class="tdb">NAME.</th>
+<th class="tdc">PAGE.</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Addison, Joseph</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Aldrich, Thomas Bailey</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Arnold, Matthew</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_401">401</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Arnold, Thomas</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Aytoun, Wm. Edmondstoune</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_315">315</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Bacon, Lord (Francis)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Barbauld, Anna L</span><ins class="translit" title="ae ligature"><span class="smcap">&#230;</span></ins><span class="smcap">titia</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Beaconsfield, Lord (Benjamin Disraeli)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_321">321</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Berkeley, Bishop (George)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Bible, The Holy</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Boswell, James</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Browning, Elizabeth Barrett</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Browning, Robert</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_378">378</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Bryant, William Cullen</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Burke, Edmund</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Burns, Robert</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Byron, Lord (George Gordon Noel)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Carlyle, Thomas</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chatham, Lord (Wm. Pitt)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Clarendon, Lord</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Clough, Arthur Hugh</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Coleridge, Samuel Taylor</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Cowper, William</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Craik, Dinah Maria Mulock</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_416">416</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Darwin, Charles</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_342">342</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">De Quincey, Thomas</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dickens, Charles</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dobson, Austin</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dryden, John</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Eliot, George (Marian Evans Cross)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_356">356</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Emerson, Ralph Waldo</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Froude, James Anthony</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_389">389</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Gibbon, Edward</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Gladstone, William Ewart</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_367">367</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Goldsmith, Oliver</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Gosse, Edmund William</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_437">437</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Gray, Thomas</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Haliburton, Thomas Chandler</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hawthorne, Nathaniel</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Heavysege, Charles</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Herrick, Robert</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Holmes, Oliver Wendell</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_364">364</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hood, Thomas</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Houghton, Lord (Richard Monckton Milnes)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hume, David</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hunt, Leigh</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Huxley, Thomas Henry</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_412">412</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Jones, Amanda T.</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_412">412</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Jowett, Benjamin</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_384">384</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Keats, John</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Keble, John</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Kingsley, Charles</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_354">354</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lever, Charles James</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Locker, Frederick</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_400">400</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_336">336</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lovelace, Richard</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lover, Samuel</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lowell, James Russell</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Lytton, Lord (Edward Bulwer)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Macaulay, Lord (Thomas Babington)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Mair, Charles</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_426">426</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Milton, John</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Moore, Thomas</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Nairn, Baroness (Carolina Oliphant)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Newman, Cardinal (John Henry)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Poe, Edgar Allan</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Pope, Alexander</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Praed, Winthrop Mackworth</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Reade, John</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Roberts, Charles George Douglas</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_440">440</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Robinson, A. Mary F.</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Rossetti, Christina Georgina</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_417">417</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Rossetti, Dante Gabriel</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Ruskin, John</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_390">390</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Sangster, Charles</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_408">408</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Scott, Sir Walter</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Shakespeare, William</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Shelley, Percy Bysshe</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Sheridan, Richard Brinsley</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Smith, Goldwin</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_409">409</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Southey, Robert</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Stanley, Dean (Arthur Penrhyn)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_350">350</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Stedman, Edmund Clarence</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_418">418</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Steele, Sir Richard</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Swift, Jonathan</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Swinburne, Algernon Charles</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_422">422</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Taylor, Bishop (Jeremy)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Tennyson, Lord (Alfred)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_366">366</a>, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_407">407</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Thackeray, William Makepeace</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_306">306</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Thomson, James</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+<td class="tdc"><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Walton, Izaak</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Whittier, John Greenleaf</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_361">361</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Wilson, President (Daniel)</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_383">383</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth, William</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="INTRODUCTORY" id="INTRODUCTORY"></a>INTRODUCTORY.</h2>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> ability to read well cannot be attained without much pains and study.
+For even a moderate proficiency in the art of reading two requirements are
+essential: (1) A cultivated mind quick to perceive the sequence of thoughts
+which the words to be read logically express, and equally quick in its power
+sympathetically to appreciate the sentiment with which the words are informed<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the
+feeling, emotion, passion, which pervades them<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but which they suggest
+rather than actually portray; and (2) a voice so perfected that its utterances fall
+upon the ear of the listener with pleasing effect, and so flexible that it can be
+managed skilfully to convey to him the full meaning and force of all the ideas
+and sentiments formally expressed by the words or latent in them. Of these
+two requirements the first is undeniably the more important; and that training
+in the art of reading in which the close, persistent, and liberal study of literature
+for its own sake has not proceeded <i>pari passu</i> with the requisite exercises for
+the development of the powers of the voice and with the study of the principles
+of vocal interpretation, has resulted in a meretricious accomplishment of very
+illusive value.</p>
+
+<p>Nor will the special study and accurate mastery of a number of individual
+selections give that readiness of mental apprehension which is indispensable to a
+good reader. The ability quickly to recognize word-forms and to utter them
+with ease, to catch the drift of ideas, and to feel ready sympathy with change and
+flow in sentiment, is not to be had without a long course of wide and varied
+reading. No one can become a good reader by passing through, no matter
+how carefully, a set of reading text-books merely. Pupils should be encouraged
+to read for themselves. They should, of course, be guided in their selection of
+reading matter, and they should be helped to acquire a taste for that which is
+purest and most helpful in literature; but unless they form a <i>habit</i> of reading,
+and of reading thoughtfully and with precision, they can never become good
+readers.</p>
+
+<p>In oral reading, readiness and accuracy depend largely upon the alertness and
+flexibility of the vocal organs, and to secure ease and excellence in the working
+of their delicate mechanism much practice is necessary. The pupil should persistently
+read aloud. A practice of this sort, watchfully pursued, with a reasonable
+degree of self-discipline in the correction or avoidance of errors, is helpful
+not alone in obtaining a mastery of the reading art, and in mental culture,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>it
+is equally beneficial as a physical exercise. It will, however, be much more
+efficacious of good, both of mind and of body, if pursued in accordance with
+those principles of voice culture and of vocal interpretation, which experience
+and special study have established.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span>But only a small proportion of all the reading that is done, is oral reading.
+It is <i>silent</i> reading that is universally employed as an instrument of study, of
+business, of amusement. As a rule, however, very little provision is made for
+the acquirement of a facility in silent reading; this, it is thought, will result as
+a by-product of the regular training in oral reading. Almost the reverse of this
+is true. Ease and flexibility of articulation, quickness in catching the drift of
+ideas, and readiness in varying the tones of the voice in the utterance of words
+so as impressively to portray their latent sentiment,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>all this is possible with
+those alone to whom difficult word-forms, complex sentence-structures, and the
+infinite variety and play of thought and emotion, are more or less familiar
+through such a wide range of reading as only the silent prosecution of it makes
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>The art of oral reading, however, though not so generally needful as silent
+reading, is still of great importance to everyone in respect of its practical utility
+simply,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>though few of those whose duty it is to read aloud in public, do so
+either with accuracy or grace; as an accomplishment which may be used to
+give pleasure to others, it is, when perfectly possessed, not excelled by any
+other; so that as an acquisition which puts one in a position of vantage either
+for benefitting one's self or for bestowing delight or benefit upon others, it is
+worth every necessary struggle for its attainment.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most valuable results of oral reading when systematically pursued
+as a school study, is the effect which it has in improving the tones of the voice
+for ordinary conversation and discourse, and in securing some measure of
+orthoepy as a fixed habit of utterance. Conversational speech is notoriously
+slovenly. The sonority of our vowels is lost, and their distinguishing qualities are
+obscured; and with unnoticed frequency our consonants are either dropped or
+amalgamated with one another. Yet, while amendment in these matters is to
+be striven for, there is nothing that the teacher who wishes to establish habits of
+orthoepy has to be more watchful in guarding against, than bestowing upon
+his pupils an affected or mincing utterance, all the more ludicrous and objectionable,
+it may be, in that a certain set of words are pronounced with over-nicety,
+while almost all others are left in a state of neglected vulgarity.</p>
+
+<p>Too frequently the study of oral reading is pursued with reference solely to
+the prospective public use of the art in the declamation of prepared passages;
+and the elocution-master's science has been brought into some discredit by wide
+discrepancies between the performances of his pupils in their well-drilled and
+often hackneyed selections and their ability to read unfamiliar pieces at sight.
+It is quite true that voice culture is greatly aided by the close study and frequent
+rendering of selections suitably chosen for the elocutionary difficulties which
+they present; but it should never be forgotten that good reading, the sort of
+reading which the schoolmaster should above all else endeavor to make his
+pupils proficient in, implies the ability so to read a plain account, a story, an
+oration, a play, or what not, <i>at sight</i>, with absolute correctness as to pronunciation,
+with such clearness of articulation and appropriateness of sentence utterance as
+will make it perfectly audible and intelligible to one's auditors, and with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span>
+such suitable and impressive intonations as will put them in full possession of
+those emotions which may be said to be the essence or spirit of the piece;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and,
+moreover, to do all this with pleasure to one's hearers and with ease to one's
+self. Now as comparatively few readers are ever required to read in public,
+and as in the home-circle everyone ought to read, it is plain that the first duty
+of the teacher of elocution is to develop in his pupils a mastery of such a style
+of reading as is appropriate to small audiences; and, <i>then</i>, if he have time and
+opportunity, to extend and amplify the practice of his art so as to fit such as are
+capable of fuller mastery of it to appear before greater audiences. For though
+all voices are capable of being much improved through cultivation, few only can
+be adapted to the requirements of a large auditorium; and the care and attention
+which should be devoted to the benefit of all should not be spent for the
+advantage merely of the few.</p>
+
+<p>And moreover, those practices and studies which voice culture and the attainment
+of a knowledge of the principles of vocal interpretation demand, may be
+pursued by all in common. That alone which is necessary for the public reader
+or orator, is a more extended, and, perhaps, a more earnest and thoughtful
+practice.</p>
+
+<p>Although practices for the improvement of the voice cannot proceed far without
+attention to the principles of vocal interpretation, and though the study of
+the latter necessarily includes the former, yet for the sake of clearness the elementary
+principles of voice culture may be discussed separately from their application
+in the interpretation of thought and sentiment.</p>
+
+<p>With respect both to articulation and expression <i>the generic properties of the
+voice are five</i>, namely: <i>Quality</i>, <i>Pitch</i>, <i>Force</i>, <i>Time</i>, <i>Abruptness</i>. Of these
+properties there are, of course, many modes or degrees, but the voice must, in
+every tone that it utters, manifest itself in some mode or other of each; and it is
+the possibility of infinite choice in the ways of combining the modes that gives to
+vocal expression its infinite possibility of variety. The principles of voice culture
+will be best understood, however, if these properties be considered separately.</p>
+
+<p><b>Quality</b> has reference to the <i>kind</i> of the voice in respect of its smoothness or
+roughness, sonority or thinness, musicalness or harshness; also in respect of the
+completeness of its vocality.</p>
+
+<p><b>Pitch</b> has reference to the degree of elevation or depression in what is called
+in music the <i>scale</i>. It may be used specifically, in reference to single tones or
+syllables (either as to their opening, or as to their whole utterance), or generally,
+as descriptive of the prevailing tone or note which the voice assumes in reading
+a sentence or passage.</p>
+
+<p><b>Force</b> has reference to the power or intensity with which the sounds of the
+voice are uttered. When force is used in the utterance of single syllables, in
+whole or in part, it is spoken of as <b>Stress</b>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Time</b> is rate of utterance. It is used with reference both to single syllables,
+and to phrases, sentences, and passages. In regard to single syllables it is
+sometimes called <b>Quantity</b>. In the consideration of time may be included that
+of <i>pauses</i> and <i>rhythms</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span><b>Abruptness</b> has reference to the relative suddenness with which syllables may
+be uttered. It may vary from the most delicate opening to a forcible explosion.</p>
+
+<p>Vocality depends upon respiration. All exercises, therefore, which are effective
+in increasing the vigor, freedom, and elasticity of the breathing apparatus,
+may be taken as initiatory steps in voice culture; and, in moderation, they
+should be practised continually. Full, slow inspirations followed by slow, and,
+as far as possible, complete expirations; full, quick inspirations similarly followed;
+full inspirations followed by sudden and forcible expirations; full, deep
+inspirations, followed by slow, slightly but distinctly audible expirations, as in
+deep sighing; these and similar practices may be pursued. What is to be
+aimed at is to secure complete control of the breath, especially to the degree
+that, with perfect deliberateness, it can be equably and smoothly effused.</p>
+
+<p>In all exercises where vocality is required it is best <i>first</i> to use the sound of <ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins>,
+as in <i>far</i>, for in this sound the quality of the human voice is heard in most perfection,
+and in uttering it the vocal organs are most flexible and most easily
+adapt themselves to change. It may be preceded by the aspirate <i>h</i>, or by some
+consonant, as may be thought necessary.</p>
+
+<p>In effective speaking or reading, <i>with respect to the abruptness and rapidity
+of expiration there are three modes of utterance</i>: the <b>effusive</b>, by which the
+voice is poured forth smoothly and equably, the <b>expulsive</b> and the <b>explosive</b>.
+Of these three modes the effusive is by far the most important, but the others,
+and especially the expulsive, have their uses also. These modes will be illustrated
+in the following exercise:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise.</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1. After a full and deliberate inspiration let the expiration of the
+element <i>h</i> be gently effected, until the lungs are exhausted<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the aspiration
+coming from the very depths of the throat. Let this be repeated with the syllable
+<i>h</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins><i>h</i>, audibly whispered. This is <i>effusive</i> utterance.</p>
+
+<p>2. After a full and deliberate inspiration let the expiration of the element <i>h</i>
+be suddenly effected, the expiration being continued until the whispering sound
+vanishes in the bottom of the throat. Let this be repeated with the syllable <i>h</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins><i>h</i>,
+audibly whispered. This is <i>expulsive</i> utterance.</p>
+
+<p>3. Let the exercise be the same as in (2) except that the expiration is to be
+much more forcibly effected, and completed almost instantaneously. This is
+<i>explosive</i> utterance.</p></div>
+
+<p>In the cultivation of the voice either one of two ends is generally kept in
+view<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>its improvement for speaking or its improvement for singing; but progress
+may be made towards both ends by the same study, and those exercises
+which benefit the singing voice benefit the speaking voice, and <i>vice versa</i>. <i>The
+distinction between speaking tones and singing tones should be clearly understood.</i>
+Musical tones are produced by isochronous (equal-timed) vibrations of
+the vocal organs continued for some length of time. Hence, a musical tone is a
+<i>note</i>, which may be prolonged at will without varying in pitch, either up or
+down. A speaking tone, on the contrary, is produced by vibrations which are
+not isochronous; it is not a <i>note</i>, properly so called, and can not be prolonged,
+without varying in pitch. Musical tones are <i>discrete</i>,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the voice passes from
+pitch to pitch through the intervals silently. In speaking, <i>every</i> tone, however
+short the time taken in uttering it, passes from one pitch to some other through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span>
+an interval <i>concretely</i>, that is, with continuous vocality; though, with respect to
+one another, speech syllables, like notes in music, are discrete. This may be exemplified
+by uttering the words, "<i>Where are you going?</i>" In singing these words,
+they may be uttered on the same note, or on different notes, or, indeed, with different
+notes for the same word; but the voice <i>skips</i> from note to note through the
+intervals. In speaking the words, each is uttered with an inflection or intonation
+in which the voice varies in pitch, but passes through the interval concretely;
+the separate words, however, and the separate syllables (if there were
+any) being uttered discretely. Musical utterance might be graphically illustrated
+by a series of horizontal lines of less or greater length succeeding one another
+at different distances above or below a fixed horizontal line. In a similar notation
+for speech utterance the lines would all be curved, to represent the concrete
+passage through the various intervals. <i>It is the concrete intonation of every
+syllable and monosyllabic word which gives to speech its distinctive character
+from music.</i> Each syllable and monosyllabic word is called a <b>concrete</b>, and
+<i>it is with the concrete in all its various possibilities of utterance that voice culture
+has mainly to do</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The intervals traversed by the voice in uttering the concrete are very variable.
+Using the musical scale for reference it may be said that in ordinary speech they
+are generally of but one, or, at most, two notes. In animated discourse or passionate
+utterance the intervals may be greater. For illustration, let the pronoun
+"<i>I</i>" be uttered in a tone of interrogative surprise; a concrete with a rising
+interval will be the result. The more the surprise is emphasized, especially if
+indignation be conjoined with it, the greater will be the interval that the voice
+passes through in uttering the concrete. If the word "<i>lie</i>" be given immediately
+after the pronoun with the same intensity of feeling, the voice discretely
+descends from the high pitch heard at the end of the utterance of the pronoun,
+and in uttering the next concrete, again ascends through an interval, of less or
+more extent according to the emphasis which is imparted to it.</p>
+
+<p>Again, in speech of sorrow, murmuring, piteous complaint, and the like, concrete
+intervals of less extent than those used in ordinary discourse are often
+heard. Thus, if the sentence "<i>Pity me, kind lady, I have no mother</i>," be uttered
+with a plaintive expression, concretes with small intervals will be distinctly
+noticeable; but it will be also noticed that with respect to one another the syllables
+are discretely uttered, just as in the sentence where the concrete intervals
+were much greater.</p>
+
+<p>Without intending a scientifically accurate and rigid statement, it may be said
+(again borrowing the terminology of music) that in ordinary speech the concretes
+are uttered with intervals of a <i>second</i>, or at most a <i>third</i>; that in very
+expressive or impassioned utterance intervals of a <i>fifth</i> or an <i>octave</i> are frequently
+used; and that the mode of progression from syllable to syllable is
+<i>diatonic</i>, that is, not concretely, but discretely from tone to tone; and further,
+that in plaintive language, the syllables are uttered concretely with intervals of a
+<i>semitone</i> only, but that the mode of progression from syllable to syllable is still
+discrete.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span>Sometimes, but rarely, syllables are uttered <i>tremulously</i>, or with a <i>tremor</i>;
+that is, with constituent intervals of less than a semitone, uttered discretely in
+rapid succession, and passing, in the aggregate, through an interval of more or
+less width. An exaggerated form of this utterance may be heard in the neighing
+of a horse.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1. Utter the syllable <i>p</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins> as a concrete, with rising and falling
+intervals, severally, of a <i>second</i>, <i>third</i>, <i>fifth</i>, and an <i>octave</i>; also with intervals
+of a <i>semitone</i>; also with a <i>tremor</i>. Let the exercise be varied so as to include
+many degrees of initial pitch. Use a diagram of a musical staff for reference.</p>
+
+<p>2. Read with exaggerated impressiveness, "<i>Am</i> <b>I</b> <i>to be your slave?</i> <b>No!</b>"</p></div>
+
+<p>In the pronunciation of the letter <ins class="translit" title="a macron"><i>&#257;</i></ins>, as in <i>pate</i>, two sounds are heard: the
+first is that of the name of the letter, which is uttered with some degree of fulness;
+the second is that of <ins class="translit" title="e with macron"><i>&#275;</i></ins> in <i>mete</i>, but, as it were, tapering and vanishing;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in
+the meantime the voice traverses a rising interval of one tone, that is, of a
+second. The utterance of these two sounds, although the sounds themselves
+are distinct, is completely continuous, from the full opening of the one to the
+vanishing close of the other, and it is impossible to say where the first ends and
+where the last begins. It is essential, however, to consider them separately.
+The first is called the <b>radical movement</b>, and the second the <b>vanishing
+movement</b>; and these together constitute the entire concrete.</p>
+
+<p>All the vowels do not equally well exemplify in their utterance a <i>distinction
+of sound</i> in their radical and vanishing movements, because some vowel sounds
+are less diphthongal than others, and some, again, are pure monophthongs;
+but <i>these two movements and the concrete variation of pitch, the result of one
+impulse of the voice, are the essential structure of every syllable</i>, and are characteristic
+of speech-notes as contradistinguished from those of song.</p>
+
+<p>When the radical and vanishing movements are effected smoothly, distinctly,
+and without intensity or emotion, commencing fully and with some abruptness,
+and terminating gently and almost inaudibly, the result is the <b>equable concrete</b>.
+This of course may be produced with intervals, either upward or downward,
+of any degree<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>tone, semitone, third, fifth, or octave. It must be said, however,
+that some syllables, and even some vowels, lend themselves more easily
+than others to that prolonged utterance which is essential to the production
+of wide intervals and the perfectness of the vanishing movement.</p>
+
+<p>The equable concrete is the natural, simple mode of utterance; but under the
+influence of interest, excitement, passion, and so on, the utterance of the concrete
+may be greatly varied from this by means of <i>stress</i>, or force applied to
+some part or to all of its extent. The different variations may be described as
+follows:</p>
+
+<p>(1) <b>Radical Stress</b>, where force is applied to the opening of the concrete. (It
+should be said that a slight degree of radical stress is given even in the equable
+concrete, producing its full, clear opening.)</p>
+
+<p>(2) <b>Loud Concrete</b>, where force is applied throughout the whole concrete, the
+proportion of the radical to the vanish remaining unaltered.</p>
+
+<p>(3) <b>Median Stress</b>, where force is applied to the middle of the concrete, producing
+a swell, or impressive fulness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span>(4) <b>Compound Stress</b>, where force is applied in an unusual degree to each
+extremity of the concrete.</p>
+
+<p>(5) <b>Final Stress</b>, where force is applied to the end of the concrete, the radical
+stress being somewhat diminished in fulness.</p>
+
+<p>(6) <b>Thorough Stress</b>, where force is so applied that the concrete has the
+same fulness throughout.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>With the syllable <i>p</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins> exemplify the <i>equable concrete</i> and the several
+varieties of <i>stress</i>, using different degrees of initial or radical pitch, and the
+various intervals of the tone, semitone, third, fifth, and octave. The exercises
+for the radical stress should be first aspirated, then repeated with full vocality.</p></div>
+
+<p>Besides the forms of the simple rising and falling intervals in which the concrete
+is generally uttered, there is another form, called the <b>wave</b>, effected by a
+union of these modes. It is of two varieties: (1) where a rising movement is
+continued into a falling movement, called the <b>direct wave</b>; (2) where a falling
+movement is continued into a rising movement, called the <b>inverted wave</b>.
+Waves may pass through all varieties of intervals, and may be either (1) <i>equal</i>,
+where the voice in both members passes through the same interval; or (2)
+<i>unequal</i>, where in one flexion the interval traversed by the voice is greater than
+in the other.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>With the syllable <i>p</i><ins class="translit" title="a with macron"><i>&#257;</i></ins> exemplify the different kinds of <i>waves</i>, with the same variations of radical pitch, interval, and stress, as before.</p></div>
+
+<p>The elementary sounds of speech are of three natural divisions; the <i>tonics</i>,
+the <i>subtonics</i>, and the <i>atonics</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The <b>Tonics</b> are the simple vowels and diphthongs. They are of perfect
+vocality; they admit the concrete rise and fall through all the intervals of pitch;
+they may be uttered with more abruptness than the other elements; and being
+capable of indefinite prolongation they can receive the most perfect exemplification
+of the vanishing movement. They may be said to be: <ins class="translit" title="a with double dot below possibly a&#804;"><i>a&#804;</i></ins>, as in <i>all</i>; <ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins>, as in <i>arm</i>; <ins class="translit" title="a with dot above, possibly &#775;"><i>a&#775;</i></ins>, as in <i>ask</i>; <ins class="translit" title="a breve"><i>&#259;</i></ins>, as in <i>an</i>; <ins class="translit" title="a macron"><i>&#257;</i></ins>, as in <i>ate</i>; <ins class="translit" title="a circumflex"><i>&#226;</i></ins>, as in <i>air</i>; <ins class="translit" title="e macron"><i>&#275;</i></ins>, as in <i>eve</i>; <ins class="translit" title="e breve"><i>&#277;</i></ins>, as in <i>end</i>; <ins class="translit" title="e diaresis"><i>&#235;</i></ins>, as in <i>err</i>; <ins class="translit" title="i macron"><i>&#299;</i></ins>, as in <i>ice</i>; <ins class="translit" title="i breve"><i>&#301;</i></ins>, as in <i>inn</i>; <ins class="translit" title="o macron"><i>&#333;</i></ins>, as in <i>old</i>; <ins class="translit" title="o diaresis"><i>&#337;</i></ins>, as in <i>or</i>; <ins class="translit" title="o breve"><i>&#335;</i></ins>, as in <i>odd</i>; <ins class="translit" title="u macron"><i>&#363;</i></ins>, as in <i>use</i>; <ins class="translit" title="u breve"><i>&#365;</i></ins>, as in <i>up</i>; <ins class="translit" title="o macron o macron"><i>&#333;&#333;</i></ins>, as in <i>ooze</i>; <ins class="translit" title="o breve o breve"><i>&#335;&#335;</i></ins>, as in <i>book</i>; <i>oi</i>, as in <i>oil</i>;
+<i>ou</i>, as in <i>out</i>. (There are various ways of arranging and classifying these.)</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Exemplify generally the equable concrete, loud concrete, radical
+stress, and median stress, with upward and downward intervals, with clear,
+sharp openings, and with gradually attenuated vanishes, upon each of the <i>tonic
+elements</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>The <b>Subtonics</b> possess the properties of vocality and prolongation in some
+degree, but much less perfectly than the tonics, and their vocality (known as
+the <i>vocal murmur</i>) is the same for all. They are as follows:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>b</i>, <i>d</i>, <i>g</i>, <i>v</i>, <i>z</i>, <i>y</i>,
+<i>w</i> (as in <i>woe</i>), <i>th</i> (as in <i>then</i>), <i>zh</i> (as <i>z</i> in <i>azure</i>), j (as in <i>judge</i>, by some considered
+not elementary), <i>l</i>, <i>m</i>, <i>n</i>, <i>ng</i> (as in <i>sing</i>), <i>r</i> (as in <i>ran</i>), and <i>r</i> (as in <i>far</i>).
+They can not, without great effort, be given an abrupt opening, and so are not
+capable of much radical fulness, but from their property of vocality they can
+receive, to a considerable degree, an exemplification of the vanishing movement.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Utter the word <i>bud</i> slowly, and detach from the rest of the
+word the obscure murmur heard in pronouncing the first letter: this is the <i>subtonic</i>
+represented by <i>b</i>. Utter this sound with different degrees of initial pitch,
+and with different intervals, both downward and upward. Produce as full an
+opening of the radical movement as possible, but do not attempt to give it
+much stress. Obtain in every case a distinct vanish. Be careful not to convert
+the subtonic into a tonic. Proceed in a similar manner with the other subtonics.
+Then, distinctly obtaining the subtonics, unite them severally with the
+sound of <ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins>, first forcibly, then more gently, producing such syllables as <i>b</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins>, <i>d</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins>, etc., which may be rendered with upward and downward intervals, and with different degrees of initial pitch. Finally, with such syllables as <ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins><i>b</i>, <ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins><i>d</i>, <ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins><i>g</i>, <ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins><i>v</i>,
+etc., exemplify all the varieties of stress.</p></div>
+
+<p>The <b>Atonics</b> correspond with the first eleven of the subtonics as given above,
+from which they differ almost alone in having <i>no</i> vocality. They are <i>p</i>, <i>t</i>, <i>k</i>, <i>f</i>,
+<i>s</i>, <i>h</i>, <i>wh</i> (as in <i>when</i>), <i>th</i> (as in <i>thin</i>), <i>sh</i>, and <i>ch</i> (as in <i>child</i>, by some considered
+not elementary).</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1. Form a list of such words as <i>pipe</i>, <i>tote</i>, <i>kick</i>, <i>fife</i>, <i>siss</i>, etc.,
+and severally utter them slowly, holding the final element for a moment, and
+then letting the breath escape suddenly; then, holding the initial letter firmly
+for a moment let it come forcibly against the sound of the remainder of the
+word, producing an abrupt opening, and radical stress of the vowel concrete.
+2. Aspirate strongly the atonics as given above.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Exercise Recapitulatory</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1. Produce the syllable <i>p</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins> in an articulate
+whisper in all the different varieties of pitch, interval, and stress. 2. Repeat
+with such syllables as <i>paw</i>, <i>pooh</i>, <i>p</i><ins class="translit" title="o macron"><i>&#333;h</i></ins>, etc. 3. Utter these syllables (1) expulsively,
+(2) explosively, with varying intervals both upward and downward, and
+producing distinct and clearly attenuated vanishes. 4. Select some passage of
+poetry involving passionate thought, and read in articulated whispers, with
+appropriate intonations, somewhat exaggerated, it may be. Let the intervals
+and stresses be slowly and distinctly given. 5. Repeat the exercise in a half
+whisper. 6. Next read the passage over several times in pure vocality, without
+exaggeration, increasing the strength of the utterance until it is as full and
+ringing as possible. Care must be taken that the utterance is in reality full and
+ringing, not sharp and hard. Let the pitch chosen be not too high<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>as low as
+possible; and let the tones come mainly from the chest and lower part of the
+throat.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Note</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>In all the exercises care should be taken that they be performed
+easily and naturally, with perfect deliberation and without undue force; else
+they will be harmful rather than useful.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise in Concrete Intervals Continued</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1. Read with appropriate
+intonations: "<i>Did you say</i> <ins class="translit" title="a with double dot below, possibly &#804;"><i>a&#804;</i></ins><i>, as in all?</i>"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"<i>No, I said</i> <ins class="translit" title="a macron"><i>&#257;</i></ins><i>, as in arm</i>,"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>producing
+in the emphatic syllables suitable rising or falling intervals of <i>one
+tone</i>. Then repeat, but with greater emphasis, producing intervals of a third, a
+fifth, or an octave. Vary the sentences so as to include all the tonic elements.
+2. With each tonic element, severally, produce first a rising and then a falling
+interval, each of a tone; then intervals of a third, a fifth, and an octave. 3.
+Extend the exercise so as to produce with each element, and with all the various
+intervals, a series or succession of rising and falling intervals, thus: <i>rising, falling,
+rising, falling</i>, etc. Use the blackboard and the musical scale for illustration
+and reference.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Syllables vary greatly in their capacity for prolongation, and in this respect
+are classified into <i>immutable</i>, <i>mutable</i>, and <i>indefinite</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span><b>Immutable Syllables</b> are almost incapable of prolongation; they are those
+which end in one of the abrupt atonic elements, <i>p</i>, <i>t</i>, <i>k</i>; as <i>tip</i>, <i>hit</i>, <i>kick</i>; or in
+one of the abrupt subtonics, <i>b</i>, <i>d</i>, <i>g</i>; as <i>tub</i>, <i>thud</i>, <i>pug</i>. Some syllables that so
+end, by virtue of tonic or subtonic elements which they may contain, are capable
+of <i>some</i> prolongation; for example, <i>warp</i>, <i>dart</i>, <i>block</i>, <i>grab</i>, <i>dread</i>, <i>grog</i>.
+These are called <b>Mutable Syllables</b>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Indefinite Syllables</b> are capable of almost indefinite prolongation; they are
+those which terminate in a tonic, or any subtonic except one of the three abrupt
+subtonics, <i>b</i>, <i>d</i>, <i>g</i>; for example, <i>awe</i>, <i>fudge</i>, <i>hail</i>, <i>arm</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Note</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>It must be remembered that when for the sake of exercise or effect
+syllables are extended in time, they must be so uttered that their identity is not
+impaired,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that is, their enunciation must be free from mouthing.</p>
+
+<p>As has been remarked before our pronunciation of vowels is notoriously careless;
+but by a little attention anyone can easily free himself from this reproach.
+Frequent practice in the accurate enunciation of the tonic elements as given
+above, and a habit of watchfulness established as to the orthoepy of those which
+are most easily obscured, in all words in which they occur, will soon secure, if
+not a resonant, sonorous utterance with respect to the tonic elements, at least a
+correct pronunciation. But the correct and distinct pronunciation of the subtonic,
+and especially of the atonic, elements, when they occur, as is so frequent
+in English words, in combination, is not so easily accomplished; and orthoepy,
+in this respect, as a <i>habit</i>, cannot be secured without great care and incessant
+practice. For example, the word <i>months</i> is habitually pronounced by almost
+everyone as if it were spelled <i>munce</i>. The following list for practice will afford
+material to begin with; other lists should be prepared by the teacher.</p>
+
+<p><i>Plinth, blithe, sphere, shriek, quote, whether, tipt, depth, robed, hoofed, calved,
+width, hundredth, exhaust, whizzed, hushed, ached, wagged, etched, pledged,
+asked, dreamt, alms, adapts, depths, lefts, heav'ns, meddl'd, beasts, wasps, hosts,
+exhausts, gasped, desks, selects, facts, hints, healths, tenths, salts, builds, wilds,
+milked, mulcts, elms, prob'd'st, think'st, hold'st, attempt'st, want'st, heard'st,
+mask'st.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Utter the words in the above list in distinct articulate whispers;
+then with vocality, softly and gently. Avoid hissing and mouthing.</p></div>
+
+<p>While, in reading, distinct enunciation is an excellence to be aimed at, yet the
+words of a sentence should not be uttered as if completely severed from one
+another. Every sentence falls naturally into <i>groups</i>, the several groups being
+composed of words related in sense; and for impressive reading the words of
+each group should be <i>implicated</i>, or tied together. For example, in the line,
+<i>Once upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder'd, weak and weary</i>, there are
+naturally three groups; in the line, <i>The quality of mercy is not strain'd</i>, there is
+but one. In these groups the terminal sound of each word is implicated with
+the initial sound of the succeeding word. If the terminal sound is a tonic, or a
+flowing subtonic, the implication consists of a gentle murmuring prolongation
+of the terminal element coalescing with the initial element of the next word; if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span>
+the terminal element is a flowing atonic the prolongation will not be accompanied
+by a murmur; but in either case the vocal organs, while prolonging the
+sound of one word, prepare, as it were, to begin the next. If the terminal element
+be one of the abrupt subtonics the vocal murmur is difficult to produce,
+and in this case, and also when the terminal element is an abrupt atonic, there
+is a suspension of the voice for a time equal to that occupied by the murmuring
+prolongation in the other cases; but the organs keep the position which they
+have in finishing the one word until they relax to take position for the utterance,
+with renewed exertion, of the opening sound of the next.</p>
+
+<p>It must be added that this implication is not confined to the component words
+of a group; for the sake of impressiveness the groups themselves are often
+implicated,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but by suspension of the voice and a maintenance of the vocal
+organs in their previous position, before they suddenly relax to form the opening
+sound of the first word in their next group, rather than by the murmuring
+prolongation above described.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Read with suitable implication: (1) <i>O Tiber! father Tiber! to
+whom the Romans pray, a Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge
+this day!</i> (2) <i>But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard, in bright succession
+raise, her ornament and guard.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>The nicety with which implication should be effected depends, like exactness
+of articulation, upon the gravity, complexity, fervor, grace, beauty, or other distinguishing
+and elevated quality of the thoughts and sentiments contained in the
+words to be read. Common-place ideas are couched, as a rule, in common-place
+language, and require no nice discrimination of sounds, or other refinement
+of utterance, for their full rendering; but in true poetry and impassioned
+prose implication is no mean instrument of effectual interpretation.</p>
+
+<p>The speaking voice, like the singing voice, is capable of utterance through a
+considerable range of pitch<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in highly cultivated voices, of three octaves; in less
+highly cultivated voices, of one octave; but for all voices, not perverted by bad
+habit, there are three or four notes, of moderate height, upon which utterance is
+most easy and natural, and most capable of great and sustained effort. These
+notes should be selected as the <b>normal pitch</b> of discourse.</p>
+
+<p>In speaking or reading, except in certain infrequent cases, the <i>whole</i> of the
+breath expired from the lungs should be utilized in producing <b>pure vocality</b>.
+Should any breath be spent in aspiration, or in hissing, or in guttural enunciation,
+the vocality is said to be <b>impure</b>. Impure vocality, it is true, has its own appropriate
+use, in the representation of certain emotional states of the mind. Pure
+vocality is heard naturally in the tones of children at play; but in adults,
+through carelessness or injudicious education, it is often wanting.</p>
+
+<p>The mechanism of the voice is very complicated and not thoroughly understood.
+It is a matter of common experience, however, that in the utterance of
+tones of low pitch, whether speech tones or musical, the voice seems to come
+from the chest rather than from the head; and, in the utterance of tones of
+high pitch, on the other hand, it seems to come from the head rather than from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</a></span>
+the chest; so that all tones are said to belong either to the <i>lower</i> or <i>chest register</i>,
+or to the <i>higher</i> or <i>head register</i>. As both chest tones and head tones may
+be obscured by impurities, and their resonance diminished or destroyed by
+defective enunciation, the pure, clear, ringing utterance of tones of both registers
+should be constantly striven for. The normal pitch of utterance, referred
+to above, should always be such that the tones comprised in it can be produced
+either from the head or from the chest, at will; but for sustained efforts, for the
+best effects both of reading and of oratory, the chest tones are much to be preferred,
+since, as compared with head tones, they are capable of being produced
+with greater resonance and penetrating power, and, for any considerable length
+of time, with greater ease to the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>All tones of the human voice, whether speaking or musical, whether of the
+head or of the chest, are spoken of as having <b>quality</b>, or <b>timbre</b>, and the term
+is also used more generally in reference to the whole compass of utterance.
+The quality of the voice is its most distinguishing characteristic, and it is upon
+its cultivation and improvement that the greatest efforts of the student should
+be spent. Pure voice is usually spoken of as being manifested in two qualities,
+the <i>natural</i> and the <i>orotund</i>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Natural Quality</b> may be described as a head tone to which some degree of
+resonance is given by the chest; but the brilliancy of its resonance is produced
+by its reverberation against the bony arch of the mouth. It may, of course, vary
+in pitch, but tones of low pitch that are intended to be impressive are most
+suitably rendered in orotund quality. In its perfect manifestations, the natural
+quality should be clear, ringing, light, and sparkling,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>if it be possible to
+describe its characteristics by such metaphorical words.</p>
+
+<p><b>Orotund Quality</b> is the result only of cultivation, but no speaker or reader
+can produce those finer effects which are the appropriate symbols of strong and
+deep emotion, whose voice cannot assume this mode at will. It differs from the
+natural mode in obtaining from the chest a greater supply of air, and a deeper
+and fuller resonance, and the reverberations seem to be against the walls of the
+pharynx, or posterior regions of the mouth, rather than against the palate, or
+upper part of the mouth. In fulness, strength, and ringing quality, it is superior
+to the natural mode, but not distinct from it; in clearness and smoothness
+it should be equal to it. As it befits a chest tone rather than a head tone, it is
+natural to utterances in medium and low pitch; but it must not be confounded
+with low pitch simply, nor must its characteristic fulness be taken for loudness
+simply. With the orotund, as well as with the natural quality, all the voice
+modes previously described may be conjoined.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1. With the syllable <i>h</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins><i>h</i>, make an expiration in the voice of
+whisper, forcing slowly all air out from the chest. Then give to this expiration
+vocality, producing the reverberation far back in the mouth: the resulting utterance
+is a <i>hoarse exemplification of the orotund</i>. With the mouth in the position
+of a yawn, making the cavity of reverberation as large as possible, repeat the
+exercise until the utterance can be produced smoothly and without hoarseness.
+2. Form similar syllables containing other tonic elements, and make similar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</a></span>
+exercises, taking care to produce a smooth, effusive utterance. 3. Select a sentence
+such as "<i>Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll</i>," abounding in long
+open vowels and indefinite syllables, and using suitable intonations read it in
+low pitch, with full, resonant chest tones. Then gradually raise the pitch, still
+obtaining the tones from the chest and uttering them with full resonance. 4.
+With such syllables as <i>h</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins><i>h</i>, <i>you</i>, <i>now</i>, <i>man</i>, <i>war</i>, <i>hail</i>, <i>fool</i>, practise in orotund
+voice the various exercises for pitch, concrete intervals, waves, stress, etc., previously
+suggested. 5. Read with feeling and appropriate intonations selected
+sentences from compositions of elevated or impassioned diction, as "Solomons's
+Prayer" <a href="#i">(p. 35)</a>, "The Hymn" <a href="#ix">(p. 68)</a>, "France" <a href="#xxxii">(p. 205)</a>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Of the various qualities (as they are called) of impure voice, the <b>Aspirate</b>, the
+<b>Sibilant</b>, and the <b>Guttural</b> are defined with sufficient clearness, by their names.
+Though these modes can be appropriately used only occasionally, nevertheless
+they are of great value to the reader, and the voice should be trained to assume
+them whenever necessary. Great care must be exercised, however, that impurities
+shall never be present as characteristics of <i>normal</i> utterance; this, whether
+from the head or chest, should be distinct, sonorous, and smooth, and should
+exhaust every particle of air expired.</p>
+
+<p>Another impure quality is the <b>Pectoral</b>, which is an aspiration produced, as
+it were, from the lowest cavities of the chest; and still another is the <b>Falsetto</b>,
+an unnatural voice, that seems to be produced entirely in the upper cavities of
+the head. The employment of the Falsetto at any time, either in speaking or
+reading, is of doubtful taste.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Exercise</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1. With the syllable <i>h</i><ins class="translit" title="a diaresis"><i>&#228;</i></ins><i>h</i> exemplify severally the aspirate, guttural,
+and pectoral qualities, first with insufficient vocality, then with sufficient.
+Exemplify the sibilant impurity with such syllables as <i>pish</i>, <i>false</i>, <i>traitress</i>, <i>miscreant</i>.
+In those exercises employ intervals of varying lengths, different degrees
+of initial pitch, and the several varieties of stress; and let the utterances be made
+effusively, expulsively, and explosively. 2. Select appropriate passages in "The
+Raven" <a href="#lii">(p. 258)</a> for exercise in natural, orotund, aspirate, guttural, and pectoral
+qualities. Read the passages severally with appropriate intonations,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>it
+may be somewhat exaggeratingly. Then read the whole poem feelingly, with
+appropriate, but not exaggerated intonations.</p></div>
+
+<p>So far, what has been said has had reference mainly to the cultivation and
+improvement of the voice, by the analogies and description of the various effective
+modes in which it can be manifested, and by the suggestion of suitable
+exercises for increasing its endurance, strength, flexibility, and resonance. It
+remains now to discuss shortly some of the principles of <i>vocal interpretation</i>,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that
+is, to discuss what modes of voice-action are appropriate to the representation
+of the various emotions which the wide range of literature presents to the
+reader.</p>
+
+<p>It must be said in respect of principles that only broad and easily verifiable
+ones are of use, and even these may be abused by a too rigorous adherence to
+them. The best rule that can be given, as indeed it is founded on a principle
+of widest application, is that laid down in the <i>Fourth Reader</i>:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>To give a faithful
+sympathetic attention to the full meaning and sentiment of what is read, and
+to manage the voice so as effectively to express this meaning and sentiment;</i> since
+this will always ensure a certain measure of appropriateness, if not the full per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</a></span>fection
+of it. And it cannot be too much emphasized that even the fullest knowledge
+and most patient study can establish for the reading of any selection, or
+passage, or sentence, <i>none but general directions</i>, since the same words may
+very frequently be rendered in several ways, with differences of pitch, time,
+stress, quality, implication, and so on, but with equal effectiveness and equal
+appropriateness. And, on the other hand, any whole selection, even the simplest,
+is far too complex in its thought and sentiment to be disposed of in one
+general analysis, which shall predetermine the pitch, tone, and stress, and the
+prevailing width of the intervals, and the direction of the inflections; all these
+will vary from paragraph to paragraph, and from sentence to sentence, even
+from word to word. To sum up, it may be said that good reading demands as
+indispensable, quick-witted intelligence, ready sympathy, and a voice so trained
+as to be flexible and resonant; if the reader have this much endowment his
+reading will always be effective, and, moreover, appropriate and impressive.</p>
+
+<p><i>All diction may be roughly described as exhibiting one of three states of feeling:</i>
+(1) that in which feeling, as it is generally understood, is almost wanting; (2)
+that in which it is present in some considerable degree; (3) that in which the
+feeling is present in an extreme degree, dominating the ideas which the several
+sentences logically express. To the first division, which may be called the
+<b>diction of discourse</b>, belongs all language indicative of a quiet state of mind<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>formal
+statement, narrative, description, simple argument or reasoning: it is
+the language of all ordinary writing. To the second division, which may be
+called the <b>diction of sentiment or feeling</b>, belongs all language which indicates
+that the mind of the speaker, real or supposed, is in a state of moderate
+excitement; that he is interested in the relation of himself to others, and, consequently,
+in the effect of his utterances upon them; or that, subjectively, he
+is interested in himself: it is the language of admiration, reverence, awe, sincerity,
+dignity, of pathos, supplication, penitence. To the third division, which
+may be called the <b>diction of passion</b>, belongs all language expressive of deeper
+excitement and more vehement interest than that described as animating the
+diction of feeling: it is the language of earnest or anxious interrogation, of
+passionate ejaculation, of powerful appeal, strong accusation, and fierce denunciation;
+also, of contempt, derision, scorn, loathing, anger, hate, and so on.</p>
+
+<p>Voice, as we have seen, possesses five generic properties, pitch, force, quality,
+time, and abruptness; and, in every spoken word, it must assume some mode
+of <i>each</i> of these properties, manifesting them in co-existence. This conjoint
+mode, or <i>vocal sign</i>, as it is called, should be the appropriate expression of the
+thought and feeling of which the word, in its place in the sentence, is the
+<i>graphical sign</i>. Hence, as each word in a sentence may be said to have its
+appropriate vocal sign, so each variety of diction may be said to have its appropriate
+vocal expression,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a latitude of choice in the constituent modes, and a
+consequent indeterminateness in the resulting expression, being, of course, always
+conceded.</p>
+
+<p>The appropriate vocal expression for the diction of discourse may be said to
+consist of the following modes:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>normal pitch, simple intonations, and waves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[xxiv]</a></span>
+of a second, moderate force, the equable concrete varied by slight radical stress,
+in quality the natural mode, in abruptness sufficient sharpness of opening to
+effect clear articulation, and in time a moderate rate with effusive utterance.</p>
+
+<p>As the diction rises above this plain unimpassioned character, and becomes
+more and more informed with feeling and sentiment, the constituent vocal signs,
+and hence the whole vocal expression, become more and more expressive. In
+pitch there is frequent variation: in expressions of joy, astonishment, or for command,
+the voice assumes naturally a somewhat higher elevation; and with equal
+naturalness it descends below its normal level to utter the language of grave,
+solemn, and reverential feeling. Again, inasmuch as the interval of the second
+is the plainest and simplest within the command of the voice, in such diction as
+we are now considering, intervals of a third, a fifth, or even an octave, may be
+heard, both in simple intonations and in waves. Force, too, will not be unvaryingly
+applied, but will be greater or less according as energy or passion may
+demand. In stress the equable concrete will give place to the radical or to the
+final, to express energetic resolve; or, in the language of pathos, exaltation,
+reverence, supplication, and so on, to the median<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the most effective of all
+modes for the expression of such deep feeling as is compatible with slow utterance.
+In time the rate of utterance will vary with the syllabic quantities, these
+being short and crisp in the language of vivacious conversation, but extended,
+and with distinct, attenuated vanishes, in grave and important monologue. In
+quality, whenever the diction, departing from its simple character, becomes pervaded
+by some deep emotion, the natural mode will give place to the orotund.
+And while effusive utterance is always the prevalent mode, it will give place to
+the expulsive mode or to the explosive, when energy of thought or force of
+passion requires it so.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, <i>as the diction rises</i> from plain discourse to the language of feeling, <i>the
+appropriate vocal expression gathers intensity and becomes more varied</i>, assumes,
+as may be said, brighter colors and displays greater contrasts; and so, in the
+third class of diction, the diction of passion, it displays its intensest and most
+vivid modes<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>its brightest colors, its deepest contrasts.</p>
+
+<p>As it is in a general sense only, that diction can be understood to be referrible
+to three classes, so also, in a general sense only, can it be understood that any
+particular sentence or passage has its appropriate vocal expression. All that is
+intended is simply this: an analysis of the sentence, or passage, or selection, gives
+to the careful student a certain conception of the quality and intensity of the
+feeling or passion that pervades it; this is to be interpreted, as well as may be,
+by the most appropriate vocal signs possible<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the whole constituting the vocal
+expression suitable to the piece. In respect to its pervading emotion, the selection
+will have what is called a <b>drift</b>, or general tendency, towards one of those
+states described as characteristic of the diction of discourse, the diction of feeling,
+and the diction of passion, respectively; and it is the business of the reader
+to watch for this drift, which of course may vary from passage to passage, from
+sentence to sentence, and sometimes from word to word, and to interpret it as
+best he may.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[xxv]</a></span>To indicate what modes of voice utterance are naturally most appropriate to
+the expression of these various emotional states and drifts, it will be best to take
+up, one by one, the different properties of the voice, and the several modes in
+which they are manifested, and to state briefly, and in general terms, the emotional
+state or drift of which it is an appropriate expression. (With respect to
+quality and abruptness this will be sufficiently done indirectly.) The student
+then must for himself, if he wishes to apply these results to the reading of any
+selected passage, first by analysis ascertain what are the emotional states which
+it involves, what are its prevailing drifts, then in respect to each property of the
+voice choose the suitable mode for the interpretation of these several states or
+drifts, conjoin the selected modes into appropriate vocal signs, and with these
+form the vocal expression that suitably interprets the whole passage. <i>The
+teacher, or the teacher and student together, should select from the</i> <span class="smcap">Reader</span>, <i>or
+elsewhere, sentences or passages that fitly exemplify the different modes; these
+should be written upon a black-board, or in some other way preserved, and be
+referred to frequently for practice both in voice culture and in vocal interpretation.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>I. <span class="smcap">Pitch</span>. Pitch must be considered under three heads: first, as referring to
+the prevailing elevation of tone assumed by the voice in the reading of a whole
+sentence, passage, or selection, called <i>general</i> or <i>sentential pitch</i>; second, as referring
+to the degree of elevation assumed by the voice in the utterance of the
+opening, or radical, of any syllable, called <i>initial</i> or <i>radical pitch</i>; third, as
+referring to the tone-width of the intervals in the utterance of the syllable concrete.</p>
+
+<p><b>Sentential Pitch</b> in its various modes is descriptive of the general position
+in the scale taken by the tones of the voice in uttering a sentence or passage.
+It may be spoken of as <i>medium</i>, <i>high</i>, and <i>low</i>. <b>Medium Pitch</b> should correspond
+with the <i>normal pitch of discourse</i> previously described. It is natural to
+the expression of all unimpassioned thought, and also of all emotions, except the
+livelier, and the deeper and more intense. <b>High Pitch</b> and <b>Low Pitch</b> are only
+relative terms. They do not represent fixed and definite modes of utterance;
+and all that can be said is, that for the interpretation of what may be called the
+lighter feelings and emotions, such as cheerfulness, joy, exultation, interest, and
+so on, also for the expression of raillery, facetiousness, humorous conversation,
+laughter, and the like, sentential pitch of a degree somewhat higher than normal
+pitch is appropriate; and, on the other hand, for the interpretation of what may
+be called the graver and deeper feelings, such as awe, reverence, humility, grief,
+and melancholy, and the more impassioned emotions, as disgust, loathing, horror,
+rage, despair, as well as for the expression of all very serious and impressive
+thought, sentential pitch of a degree somewhat lower than normal pitch is
+appropriate. The degree of elevation and depression must be determined by
+the judgment and good taste of the reader; but it must be borne in mind that
+this degree may vary from passage to passage, and from sentence to sentence,
+and even from phrase to phrase.</p>
+
+<p>In every style of diction, no matter how unimpassioned it may be, there will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[xxvi]</a></span>
+be frequent changes in the train of thought, and frequent changes in the intensity
+of feeling; to represent these changes there should be corresponding variations,
+or <b>transitions in sentential pitch</b>. These transitions also serve another
+purpose, namely, to indicate an interpolated or parenthetical idea. In making
+transitions the voice follows the general law of all vocal interpretation; strong
+contrasts in thought and feeling are marked by transitions of wide intervals, and
+lesser contrasts by lesser intervals.</p>
+
+<p><i>Transitions in pitch are naturally accompanied by corresponding changes in
+force, rate of utterance, and phrasing</i>; and, like all other modes of expression,
+these receive their color from the intensity of thought and feeling of which they
+are the symbols. For example, in the rendering of a parenthetical clause (since, as
+a rule, the thought expressed in the parenthesis is of less gravity than the thought
+in the main sentence), the voice will manifest itself in lighter force and generally
+in quicker movement, that is, in lighter, less contrasting colors; but whether
+the pitch be raised or lowered depends upon the sentential pitch appropriate to
+the main sentence,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>it should be in contrast with that. And it may be remarked
+in passing, that the reading of the parenthesis should end with a phrase melody
+similar to that appropriate to the words immediately before the parenthesis, so
+that the ear may naturally be carried back to the proper place in the main
+clause for the continuation of the expression of the principal thought.</p>
+
+<p><b>Radical Pitch</b>, that is the pitch with which the opening of a syllable is
+uttered, is, in respect of appropriate employment, the most important element of
+reading or speaking; but all that can be done here, is to call attention to this,
+and leave the student to exercise his taste and judgment in regard to its use.
+The importance of appropriately varying radical pitch so as to impart melody
+to continued utterance will be seen at once if a simple sentence (for example,
+"<i>Tom and Jim sat on a log</i>") be read, first in that monotonous voice (that is,
+with unvarying radical pitch) so often heard in the labored reading of improperly
+taught young children, and then with those appropriate intonations heard in
+animated colloquy. When properly rendered, even if read with but little animation,
+each syllable, or concrete, passes through an interval of a second, and
+the several syllables are discretely uttered; but the <i>radical pitch varies from
+syllable to syllable</i>, forming a diatonic melody. <i>For the rendering of any given
+sentence in appropriate diatonic melody, positive direction as to the order of succession
+in respect of radical pitch cannot be given</i>; the same words may be uttered
+with equal appropriateness in many varieties of melody. The ignoring of this
+fact has led to the most absurd pretensions.</p>
+
+<p>A group of two or three syllabic concretes is called a <b>phrase of melody</b>; and
+as phrases vary with respect to pitch, in the order of succession of the radicals
+of their constituent syllables, they receive different names: such as the <i>monotone</i>,
+in which the radicals are all on the same pitch; and the <i>ditone</i> and the
+<i>tritone</i>, groups of two tones and three tones respectively, with radicals of different
+pitch; and, again, the concretes in these phrases may have upward or
+downward intonations: but fixed rules cannot be laid down for their use. The
+reader must bear in mind, however, that it is upon the tasteful use of phrases<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[xxvii]</a></span>
+and cadences, that is, upon the tasteful employment of variation in radical pitch,
+that the melody of uttered language depends; and that if it be devoid of this
+melody, it is both wearisome and unimpressive to the hearer.</p>
+
+<p>The intonations of the voice must necessarily be through either rising intervals
+or falling intervals, and there is a generic difference in the meaning of these.
+<b>The rising interval</b> is heard naturally at the end of a direct question; that is,
+one to which "<i>yes</i>" or "<i>no</i>" is an expected answer, as "<i>Are you going home?</i>"
+The suspensive tone which the voice assumes at the end of the interrogation is
+indicative of incompleteness of thought; and <i>indication of incompleteness is the
+characteristic function of all rising intervals</i>.</p>
+
+<p><b>The falling interval</b> is heard naturally at the close of a complete statement,
+as "<i>I am here</i>"; and hence, <i>words indicating completeness, positiveness, resolution,
+are appropriately uttered with downward intervals</i>. In effecting a downward
+intonation the voice operates in one of two ways: either the <i>weaker mode</i>,
+in which it descends from a radical pitch at or near the current tone to a lower
+pitch; or the <i>stronger mode</i>, in which it assumes discretely a radical pitch as
+much <i>above</i> the current tone as the emphasis requires, and descends concretely
+either to the current tone or below it.</p>
+
+<p>As every sentence is more or less incomplete until the end is reached, <i>rising
+intervals are the rule in intonation, and falling intervals the exception</i>, and it
+is this infrequency of use which gives to the falling movement its value as a
+mode of emphasis. But where the emphasis is that of doubt, uncertainty, surprise,
+or interrogation, the suspensiveness of these emotional states is appropriately
+expressed by rising intonations; and hence, too, in all sentences in
+which the interrogative element is strongly present, the rising interval should
+characterize every syllable in it, and the sentences be uttered with interrogative
+intonations throughout. If in any such sentence, a particular word is to be
+especially emphasized, this is effected by giving to the word a low radical pitch
+and retaining the rising interval indicative of interrogation.</p>
+
+<p><b>The width of the interval</b> depends, as is natural, upon the intensity of the
+thought or emotion of which the concrete is intended to be an expression. For
+example, suppose the statement, "<b>You</b> <i>are the culprit</i>," be answered by the
+surprised and indignant interrogation, "<b>I?</b>" The emphatic words here used
+may be appropriately uttered with intervals of a tone, a third, a fifth, or an
+octave, according to the emphasis supposed necessary.</p>
+
+<p><b>The Semitone</b>, as has been said before, is an interval sometimes heard in
+language of distress, complaint, grief, sorrow, tenderness, compassion, pity.
+Occasionally it is introduced in diatonic melody as an appropriate emphatic
+mode of uttering a single word; as, for example, "<i>Other friends have flown
+before; on the morrow</i> <span class="smcap">he</span> <i>will leave me</i>." At times diction may assume what
+may be called a <i>pathetic drift</i>, and for the suitable interpretation of this drift
+semitonic intervals may be used, and the mode of progression cease for a space
+to be diatonic and become semitonic, or <i>chromatic</i>, as it is called.</p>
+
+<p><b>The Wave</b> is one of the most impressive of the elements of expression; but
+its proper use demands great flexibility in the vocal organs and a high degree of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxviii" id="Page_xxviii">[xxviii]</a></span>
+taste in the reader. Like all other unusual modes, its employment lends color
+and contrast to utterance; that is, it makes it more effective for the purposes of
+emphasis or distinction. The wave, as has been described, is a concrete with
+an upward and a downward movement united; but its last constituent is that
+which most affects the ear and leaves upon it the stronger impression, and hence,
+especially if it be given with a wide interval, <i>its dominant characteristic will
+be that of the second movement</i>; for example, if the second movement be upward,
+the wave may express interrogation mingled with surprise or scorn; if the
+second movement be downward, the wave may express astonishment mingled
+with indignation. The intervals which are given to the wave depend upon the
+diction to which it is applied. To express great surprise or vehement indignation
+it may sweep through a fifth or a whole octave. In these extreme modes
+<i>the wave frequently is given a wider interval in the second movement than in
+the first</i>, and its effect intensified by the appropriate use of stress, and (for the
+expression of such emotions as scorn, contempt, irony, ridicule, and so on) of
+the impure qualities of voice. When used with intervals of the second, the
+characteristics of direct and inverted forms lose some of their distinctness; but
+in this degree the wave is effectively used to put into relief occasional words, or,
+with median stress and long quantities, to give to the otherwise short and tripping
+character of the second a dignified and impressive effect suited to the rendering
+of all serious and important diction that is not impassioned.</p>
+
+<p><b>The Wave of the Semitone</b> is generally employed when time, or syllabic
+quantity, is needed as an element in the expression of the language of complaint
+or pathos. The effect is much the same whether it be direct or indirect.</p>
+
+<p><b>The Tremor</b> may be used to express grief, supplication, tenderness, in which
+the interval through which it ranges may be wide, or, for a more plaintive effect,
+be limited to the semitone. With constituent intervals other than the semitone
+(that is, of a tone or otherwise), and ranging through an aggregate interval of less
+or greater width, it may be used to express laughter; as, for example, in the
+utterance of the syllables "<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>," which, when rapidly effected,
+resembles one syllable uttered with discrete intervals. Combined with stress,
+aspiration, and guttural vibration, in suitable modifications, this laughing tone
+may be made to express scorn, derision, exultation, triumph, and so on.</p>
+
+
+<p>II. <span class="smcap">Force</span>. Force must be considered under two aspects: first, as to the <i>degree
+of its intensity</i> in the utterance of syllables, words, phrases, and sentences;
+and second, as to the <i>form of its application in the utterance of the concrete</i>.
+When the term is used without qualification, the first of these considerations is
+intended; when the second is intended, force is generally spoken of as <b>stress</b>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Force must be contradistinguished from loudness.</i> In mere loudness the vocal
+organs are comparatively relaxed<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the intensity of sound being produced by the
+violent discharge of a great volume of air from the lungs. In forceful utterance
+the vocal organs are compressed and tense, and though the volume of air effused
+be small, the resulting sound-vibrations are strong, and distinct, and of
+penetrating power.</p>
+
+<p>In respect of intensity, force may be manifested in infinite variation, but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxix" id="Page_xxix">[xxix]</a></span>
+degrees usually spoken of are <i>very light</i>, <i>light</i>, <i>moderate</i>, <i>strong</i>, and <i>very strong</i>.
+As with all other modes, these degrees will vary from word to word, and from
+sentence to sentence; and great judgment and taste must be exercised in employing
+them, so that they appropriately represent the intensity of the thought
+and feeling of which they are to be the expression.</p>
+
+<p><b>Moderate Force</b> is the natural expression of tranquillity, and, therefore, of all
+unimpassioned diction. As the diction becomes pervaded by the more positive
+emotions, the tones of the voice naturally become stronger. Certainty requires
+strong force with pure quality. So all the passions, the lighter as well as the
+more vehement, require the degree of force to be heightened: cheerfulness, joy,
+ecstacy, requiring force moderately strong; and anger, hate, terror, revenge,
+being suitably rendered by very strong force. Again, doubt, uncertainty, secrecy,
+as well as the gentler and more plaintive emotions, are most suitably represented
+by the lighter shades of force.</p>
+
+<p>As the voice assumes the intenser modes of force, the vocal organs become
+more and more compressed, and utterance is more and more labored; the breath
+forced out cannot all be vocalized; the voice becomes less and less pure, and
+manifests itself in the aspirate and guttural qualities. <i>Hence, strongly suppressed
+utterance in impure vocality, rather than mere loudness in pure vocality, is the
+appropriate expression for all the intenser passions.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>III. <span class="smcap">Stress</span>. Stress is force considered with respect of the form of its application
+to the concrete. Since the equable concrete is the natural colorless expression
+of unimpassioned thought, force applied to any part of it changes its
+character, and gives it a more or less significant emphasis. The three most
+usual forms of stress are the <i>radical</i>, the <i>median</i>, and the <i>final</i>; these may be
+effected in any of the degrees of force. <i>Compound stress</i> and <i>thorough stress</i>
+admit of but little variation.</p>
+
+<p><b>Radical Stress</b>, to some extent an essential, but not an expressive element in
+the equable concrete, is, in a somewhat stronger form, an element in all utterance
+that is intended to be vivid and energetic, emphasizing these characteristics
+by its own incisive clearness. The more animated and energetic the diction the
+clearer and more determined should be the opening of the concrete, that is, the
+more distinct and forcible should be its radical stress; while in graver language
+the radical stress is less pronounced. In its emphatic degree it ought at no
+time to be allowed to become a current mode, imparting its peculiar incisive
+character to every syllable; though, for especial emphasis, it may be appropriately
+used in this way in the utterance of the several words of a phrase.</p>
+
+<p><b>Final Stress</b> differs from radical stress principally in this, that while it equally
+indicates energy and positiveness, it does so as in accordance with predetermination
+and reflection. <i>Radical stress denotes, as it were, an involuntary
+state of energy; final stress, the energy or fixedness of resolve.</i> Hence, final
+stress is appropriate to the expression of resolution, of obstinacy, of earnest
+conviction, of passionate resolve. It emphasizes the characteristics of wide
+intervals, giving to rising intonations a more decidedly interrogatory character,
+and making falling intonations more vehemently and passionately positive.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxx" id="Page_xxx">[xxx]</a></span><b>Median Stress</b>, as it can be effectively applied to none but indefinite or
+mutable syllables, is compatible only with such a rate of utterance as will permit
+of these receiving long quantities. It may receive any degree of force, from
+that gentle swell which indicates a tranquil flow of emotion, to that firm and
+swelling energy which is the appropriate expression of the language of elevated
+feeling. With the wider intervals it should be used only for occasional emphasis;
+but in its lighter forms it may prevail as a drift of dignified expression.
+Median stress, being always necessarily associated with long quantity in syllables,
+is not an appropriate mode in the language of colloquy, or in vivacious discourse
+of any kind. It is, however, the fit interpreter of that fervid and lofty
+imagination which clothes itself in forms of grace and grandeur; and hence,
+with intonations and waves of the lesser intervals, with medium or low sentential
+pitch, a moderate degree of force, and the pure or orotund quality, it is the
+appropriate expression of all exalted prose and poetry, not strongly dramatic.</p>
+
+<p><b>Thorough Stress</b> is effected by continuing the force and fulness of the radical
+stress throughout the whole concrete. Used as a current mode, which
+should be but rarely, it is expressive of bluntness, arrogance, bravado; and,
+with short quantities, of ignorant coarseness. Occasionally it may be used instead
+of final stress to give emphasis to a syllable whose vanishing movement is
+but little capable of receiving an increase of force.</p>
+
+<p><b>Compound Stress</b> combines the qualities of both radical and final stress; it
+is therefore of extreme character, and can be only occasionally used. With
+wide intervals, in its stronger modes, it is expressive of the utmost intensity
+of feeling; in its lighter modes it is the natural expression of strong surprise.</p>
+
+<p><b>The Loud Concrete</b> is simply the equable concrete uttered with greater fulness
+of breath and loudness of tone. It is used to break a current of light force
+for the sake of emphasizing some word or phrase; and, in impassioned discourse,
+it may be used as a current mode, individual words or phrases being then put in
+relief by receiving the forcible radical, or thorough, or compound stress.</p>
+
+<p>In reference to stress it must be remembered that, as with all other varieties
+of emphatic utterance, no one form should prevail as an exclusive mode. Even
+a prevalent drift of thought or feeling will be most effectively rendered by vocal
+signs which change in color and intensity from word to word. It must also be
+borne in mind in reference both to force and stress, and to pitch and time as well,
+that the modes which are employed must sustain a suitable relation to the situation
+and surroundings of the speaker. Where considerable space has to be
+filled and distance overcome, the energy of utterance should be correspondingly
+intense; but for great distances, what is called <b>level speaking</b> is the only effectual
+mode,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that is, speaking exclusively in those tones of normal pitch in which
+the voice has most penetrating power, with force of almost constant intensity,
+and in a somewhat slow movement with long syllabic quantities, but of course
+with as much needful variation of expression as is possible within these limits.</p>
+
+
+<p>IV. <span class="smcap">Time</span>. Time is rate of utterance. It comprehends <i>quantity</i>, or rate considered
+in reference to the duration of individual syllables; and <i>movement</i>, or
+rate considered in reference to the utterance of syllables and words in succession.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxi" id="Page_xxxi">[xxxi]</a></span>
+With it may be considered <i>pauses</i>, or cessations of the voice, helpful in the expression
+of thought and feeling, and necessary to the working of the vocal
+mechanism.</p>
+
+<p><b>Quantity</b>, as defined above, is an arbitrary thing, dependent almost entirely
+upon the will of the speaker. But many words and syllables are more expressive
+of their meaning when, in uttering them, the voice is somewhat prolonged,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>hence
+<i>quantity is an element of expression</i>. Again, many words and syllables
+can receive this prolongation of utterance more readily than others,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>hence
+<i>quantity is a natural element of spoken language</i>. As indefinite syllables are
+much more capable of prolongation than mutable or immutable syllables, they
+are said to possess long quantity, or, more shortly, "to possess quantity";
+mutable syllables possess quantity in a less degree, and immutable syllables are
+naturally deficient in quantity.</p>
+
+<p>As an element of expression, quantity (that is, long quantity) lends dignity and
+grace to the movement of the voice, and affords ground for the display of those
+expressive modes of vocal action which are incompatible with the rapid or ejaculatory
+utterance of the concrete; and hence, with median stress, the wave,
+moderate intervals, medium or low sentential pitch, it is used as naturally interpretative
+of solemnity, reverence, awe, deep pathos, ardent admiration, and
+all elevated emotion. Colloquial tones, excited argument, wit, raillery, and all
+the lighter emotions, require for their expression, brilliancy rather than grace,
+and so are more fittingly interpreted by short quantities and radical stress.</p>
+
+<p>The discerning reader, in his work of vocal interpretation, will not fail to take
+advantage of the inherent character of syllables with respect to quantity. Our
+language abounds in indefinite syllables to which he may impart whatever quantity
+he may desire. On the other hand, immutable syllables, while not admitting
+the wave and the median stress, are eminently fitted to receive the more
+forcible forms of radical stress; and mutable syllables, with their abrupt closes,
+permit of perfect exemplifications of thorough and final stress.</p>
+
+<p><b>Movement</b>, though it depends for its slower and more expressive forms upon
+the capacities of syllables for the reception of long quantities, is, in its more
+rapid forms, quite independent of syllabic structure, and dependent only on the
+will of the speaker; hence it may be spoken of as being altogether under his
+control. A medium rate of utterance is, with respect to time, the natural expression
+of an equable flow of thought. The livelier emotions should be indicated
+by quicker rates, and hence, cheerfulness, joy, vivacious dialogue, animated
+narration, naturally find their expression in movements more or less brisk, with
+short quantities, varied intonations, and pitch higher than the normal; the
+more vehement emotions, eagerness, anger, excited anxiety, demand simply
+heightened forms of these modes. Contrariwise, thought of grave and meditative
+character, admiration, reverence, and all the deeper and calmer feelings,
+require a deliberative, slow-timed utterance, with long quantities for accented
+syllables, and extended time for even unaccented syllables. As these serious
+emotions become stronger and deeper, the syllabic quantities become proportionately
+longer, and with impressive median swells, orotund quality, low pitch,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxii" id="Page_xxxii">[xxxii]</a></span>
+waves and simple intonations of the second, frequent phrases in monotone, and
+an occasional tremor, constitute the most impressive utterance of adoration.</p>
+
+<p><i>Occasionally an abrupt change in quantity, or movement, may be employed as
+a mode of emphasis</i>, either positive or negative; for example, in a current of
+rapid movement, a word may be put into strong relief by being uttered with
+quantity much extended; contrariwise, a parenthetical or explanatory phrase
+is usually touched upon lightly and with a more rapid movement than that of
+the current in which it is found.</p>
+
+<p><b>Pause</b> <i>may be used as an element in the expression of thought simply, that is,
+as a help to the interpretation of the mere sense of the words read</i>; or, <i>more
+emphatically, as an element in the expression of feeling and emotion</i>. As interpretative
+of thought, pauses should correspond mainly with the graphical marks
+of punctuation. Two things, however, must be borne in mind: <i>first</i>, the use of
+punctuation marks in writing and in printing is always more or less an arbitrary
+matter, scarcely any two authors agreeing in their employment of them; and
+therefore the reader's own good sense must be to him his principal authority as
+to the closeness with which he follows them: and <i>second</i>, pauses are to an auditor
+what punctuation marks are intended to be to a reader; but, whereas the
+eye may constantly keep within its vision the relation of each word uttered, both
+to those which preceded it and to those which are to follow, the ear hears the
+words that are read only <i>ictus</i> by <i>ictus</i>, stroke by stroke, and therefore can not
+aid the mind to grasp this relation<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the memory alone helping to do that; and
+hence, in reading, pauses should be more frequent, and perhaps more prolonged,
+than the punctuation marks might seem to necessitate. The reader
+should also bear in mind that even the plainest and simplest diction, or that requiring
+the most rapid utterance, may be so marked by appropriate pauses that
+those stoppages of the voice necessarily required for inspiration, shall never
+occur except when they assist to interpret the sense,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they must not interrupt it.</p>
+
+<p>As interpretative of emotion pauses do not necessarily correspond to grammatical
+structure; but, as with all the modes of expression previously considered,
+their frequency and length<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>their only modifications<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>must harmonize with the
+feeling which they are to assist in interpreting. In length, for example, they
+should correspond with the movement of which they may be said to form a part;
+when the movement is slow, as in the expression of awe, reverence, and the like,
+they are naturally long; in the brisk movement required to interpret the livelier
+emotions, they should be short. As a mode of emphasis pause serves to fix the
+attention of the hearer,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>either <i>backward</i> upon a word or phrase, that the mind
+may dwell upon it, or <i>forward</i> to awaken curiosity and expectation: it is evident
+then that a frequent use of it for this purpose would destroy its value.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pauses may be used in reading to simulate an appropriate labor of utterance</i>,
+as when the mind is supposed to be overcome by sorrow, or disturbed by anger.
+At such times also, they serve as fit rests for the voice in its efforts to express
+the disturbed condition of the mind, and as appropriate avenues for the escape of
+emotion otherwise than by vocality, as by sibling. <i>Pauses should be used also
+to indicate sudden transitions from one state of caution to another.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxiii" id="Page_xxxiii">[xxxiii]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1><i>THE
+HIGH SCHOOL READER</i>.</h1>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a><a name="i" id="i"></a><a href="#anchor_i">I</a>. KING SOLOMON'S PRAYER AND BLESSING AT THE<br />
+DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">the First Book of Kings</span>.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>Translated 1611</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash"><i>&#8212;</i></ins><i>Revised 1885.</i></h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Then</span> Solomon assembled the elders of Israel, and all
+the heads of the tribes, the princes of the fathers' houses
+of the children of Israel, unto king Solomon in Jerusalem,
+to bring up the ark of the covenant of the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> out
+of the city of David, which is Zion. And all the men
+of Israel assembled themselves unto king Solomon at
+the feast, in the month Ethanim, which is the seventh
+month. And all the elders of Israel came, and the
+priests took up the ark. And they brought up the ark
+of the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, and the tent of meeting, and all the holy
+vessels that were in the Tent; even these did the priests
+and the Levites bring up. And king Solomon and all
+the congregation of Israel, that were assembled unto
+him, were with him before the ark, sacrificing sheep and
+oxen, that could not be told nor numbered for multitude.
+And the priests brought in the ark of the covenant of
+the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> unto its place, into the oracle of the house, to
+the most holy place, even under the wings of the
+cherubim. For the cherubim spread forth their wings
+over the place of the ark, and the cherubim covered the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+ark and the staves thereof above. There was nothing
+in the ark save the two tables of stone which Moses put
+there at Horeb, when the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> made a covenant with
+the children of Israel, when they came out of the land
+of Egypt. And it came to pass, when the priests were
+come out of the holy place, that the cloud filled the
+house of the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, so that the priests could not stand
+to minister by reason of the cloud: for the glory of the
+<span class="smcap">Lord</span> filled the house of the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Then spake Solomon, The <span class="smcap">Lord</span> hath said that he
+would dwell in the thick darkness. I have surely built
+thee an house of habitation, a place for thee to dwell in
+for ever. And the king turned his face about, and
+blessed all the congregation of Israel: and all the
+congregation of Israel stood. And he said, Blessed be
+the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, the God of Israel, which spake with his
+mouth unto David my father, and hath with his hand
+fulfilled it, saying, Since the day that I brought forth
+my people Israel out of Egypt, I chose no city out of
+all the tribes of Israel to build an house, that my name
+might be there; but I chose David to be over my people
+Israel. Now it was in the heart of David my father to
+build an house for the name of the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, the God
+of Israel. But the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> said unto David my father,
+Whereas it was in thine heart to build an house for
+my name, thou didst well that it was in thine heart:
+nevertheless thou shalt not build the house; but thy son
+that shall come forth out of thy loins, he shall build the
+house for my name. And the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> hath established
+his word that he spake; for I am risen up in the room
+of David my father, and sit on the throne of Israel, as
+the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> promised, and have built the house for the
+name of the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, the God of Israel. And there have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
+I set a place for the ark, wherein is the covenant of the
+<span class="smcap">Lord</span>, which he made with our fathers, when he brought
+them out of the land of Egypt.</p>
+
+<p>And Solomon stood before the altar of the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> in
+the presence of all the congregation of Israel, and spread
+forth his hands toward heaven: and he said, O <span class="smcap">Lord</span>,
+the God of Israel, there is no God like thee, in heaven
+above, or on earth beneath; who keepest covenant and
+mercy with thy servants, that walk before thee with all
+their heart: who hast kept with thy servant David my
+father that which thou didst promise him: yea, thou
+spakest with thy mouth, and hast fulfilled it with thine
+hand, as it is this day. Now therefore, O <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, the God
+of Israel, keep with thy servant David my father that
+which thou hast promised him, saying, There shall not
+fail thee a man in my sight to sit on the throne of Israel;
+if only thy children take heed to their way, to walk
+before me as thou hast walked before me. Now therefore,
+O God of Israel, let thy word, I pray thee, be
+verified, which thou spakest unto thy servant David my
+father. But will God in very deed dwell on the earth?
+behold, heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain
+thee; how much less this house that I have builded!
+Yet have thou respect unto the prayer of thy servant, and
+to his supplication, O <span class="smcap">Lord</span> my God, to hearken unto the
+cry and to the prayer which thy servant prayeth before
+thee this day: that thine eyes may be open toward this
+house night and day, even toward the place whereof
+thou hast said, My name shall be there: to hearken unto
+the prayer which thy servant shall pray toward this
+place. And hearken thou to the supplication of thy
+servant, and of thy people Israel, when they shall pray
+toward this place: yea, hear thou in heaven thy dwelling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
+place: and when thou hearest, forgive. If a man sin
+against his neighbour, and an oath be laid upon him to
+cause him to swear, and he come and swear before thine
+altar in this house: then hear thou in heaven, and do,
+and judge thy servants, condemning the wicked, to bring
+his way upon his own head; and justifying the righteous,
+to give him according to his righteousness. When thy
+people Israel be smitten down before the enemy, because
+they have sinned against thee; if they turn again to
+thee, and confess thy name, and pray and make supplication
+unto thee in this house: then hear thou in heaven,
+and forgive the sin of thy people Israel, and bring them
+again unto the land which thou gavest unto their fathers.
+When heaven is shut up, and there is no rain, because
+they have sinned against thee; if they pray toward
+this place, and confess thy name, and turn from their
+sin, when thou dost afflict them: then hear thou in
+heaven, and forgive the sin of thy servants, and of thy
+people Israel, when thou teachest them the good way
+wherein they should walk; and send rain upon thy land,
+which thou hast given to thy people for an inheritance.
+If there be in the land famine, if there be pestilence, if
+there be blasting or mildew, locust or caterpiller; if
+their enemy besiege them in the land of their cities;
+whatsoever plague, whatsoever sickness there be; what
+prayer and supplication soever be made by any man, or
+by all thy people Israel, which shall know every man the
+plague of his own heart, and spread forth his hands
+toward this house: then hear thou in heaven thy
+dwelling place, and forgive, and do, and render unto every
+man according to all his ways, whose heart thou knowest;
+(for thou, even thou only, knowest the hearts of all the
+children of men;) that they may fear thee all the days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+that they live in the land which thou gavest unto our
+fathers. Moreover concerning the stranger, that is not of
+thy people Israel, when he shall come out of a far country
+for thy name's sake; (for they shall hear of thy great
+name, and of thy mighty hand, and of thy stretched out
+arm:) when he shall come and pray toward this house;
+hear thou in heaven thy dwelling place, and do according
+to all that the stranger calleth to thee for; that all the
+peoples of the earth may know thy name, to fear thee, as
+doth thy people Israel, and that they may know that
+this house which I have built is called by thy name. If
+thy people go out to battle against their enemy, by
+whatsoever way thou shalt send them, and they pray
+unto the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> toward the city which thou hast chosen,
+and toward the house which I have built for thy name:
+then hear thou in heaven their prayer and their supplication,
+and maintain their cause. If they sin against thee,
+(for there is no man that sinneth not,) and thou be angry
+with them, and deliver them to the enemy, so that they
+carry them away captive unto the land of the enemy,
+far off or near; yet if they shall bethink themselves in
+the land whither they are carried captive, and turn
+again, and make supplication unto thee in the land of
+them that carried them captive, saying, We have sinned,
+and have done perversely, we have dealt wickedly; if
+they return unto thee with all their heart and with all
+their soul in the land of their enemies, which carried
+them captive, and pray unto thee toward their land,
+which thou gavest unto their fathers, the city which thou
+hast chosen, and the house which I have built for thy
+name: then hear thou their prayer and their supplication
+in heaven thy dwelling place, and maintain their cause;
+and forgive thy people which have sinned against thee,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+and all their transgressions wherein they have transgressed
+against thee; and give them compassion before
+those who carried them captive, that they may have
+compassion on them: for they be thy people, and thine
+inheritance, which thou broughtest forth out of Egypt,
+from the midst of the furnace of iron: that thine eyes
+may be open unto the supplication of thy servant, and
+unto the supplication of thy people Israel, to hearken
+unto them whensoever they cry unto thee. For thou
+didst separate them from among all the peoples of the
+earth, to be thine inheritance, as thou spakest by the
+hand of Moses thy servant, when thou broughtest our
+fathers out of Egypt, O Lord <span class="smcap">God</span>.</p>
+
+<p>And it was so, that when Solomon had made an end
+of praying all this prayer and supplication unto the
+<span class="smcap">Lord</span>, he arose from before the altar of the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, from
+kneeling on his knees with his hands spread forth toward
+heaven. And he stood, and blessed all the congregation
+of Israel with a loud voice, saying, Blessed be the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>,
+that hath given rest unto his people Israel, according to
+all that he promised: there hath not failed one word of
+all his good promise, which he promised by the hand of
+Moses his servant. The <span class="smcap">Lord</span> our God be with us, as
+he was with our fathers: let him not leave us, nor
+forsake us: that he may incline our hearts unto him, to
+walk in all his ways, and to keep his commandments,
+and his statutes, and his judgments, which he commanded
+our fathers. And let these my words, wherewith I have
+made supplication before the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, be nigh unto the
+<span class="smcap">Lord</span> our God day and night, that he maintain the cause
+of his servant, and the cause of his people Israel, as
+every day shall require: that all the peoples of the earth
+may know that the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, he is God; there is none else.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+Let your heart therefore be perfect with the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> our
+God, to walk in his statutes, and to keep his commandments,
+as at this day. And the king, and all Israel with
+him, offered sacrifice before the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="ii" id="ii"></a><a href="#anchor_ii">II</a>. INVITATION.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Isaiah</span>.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>Translated 1611</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash"><i>&#8212;</i></ins><i>Revised 1885.</i></h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Ho</span>, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters,
+and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea,
+come, buy wine and milk without money and without
+price. Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is
+not bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not?
+hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is
+good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. Incline
+your ear, and come unto me; hear and your soul shall
+live: and I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
+even the sure mercies of David....</p>
+
+<p>Seek ye the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> while he may be found, call ye upon
+him while he is near: let the wicked forsake his way,
+and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return
+unto the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, and he will have mercy upon him;
+and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my
+thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways
+my ways, saith the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>. For as the heavens are higher
+than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways,
+and my thoughts than your thoughts. For as the rain
+cometh down and the snow from heaven, and returneth
+not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+forth and bud, and giveth seed to the sower and bread to
+the eater; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of
+my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall
+accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in
+the thing whereto I sent it. For ye shall go out with
+joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the
+hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the
+trees of the field shall clap their hands. Instead of the
+thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier
+shall come up the myrtle tree: and it shall be to the
+<span class="smcap">Lord</span> for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not
+be cut off.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="Page_40b" id="Page_40b"></a><a href="#anchor_i">III</a>.THE TRIAL SCENE IN THE "MERCHANT OF
+VENICE."<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">William Shakespeare</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1564-1616.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><i>Scene</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>A Court of Justice. <i>Present</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">The Duke</span>, the Magnificoes,
+<span class="smcap">Antonio</span>, <span class="smcap">Bassanio</span>, <span class="smcap">Gratiano</span>, <span class="smcap">Solanio</span>, and others.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> What, is Antonio here?</p>
+
+<p><i>Antonio.</i> Ready, so please your grace.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer<br />
+A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch<br />
+Uncapable of pity, void and empty<br />
+From any dram of mercy.</p>
+
+<p><i>Antonio.</i><span style="padding-left: 9em;">I have heard</span><br />
+Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify<br />
+His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>And that no lawful means can carry me<br />
+Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose<br />
+My patience to his fury; and am arm'd<br />
+To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,<br />
+The very tyranny and rage of his.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> Go one, and call the Jew into the court.</p>
+
+<p><i>Solanio.</i> He's ready at the door: he comes, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span  class="smcap">Shylock</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> Make room, and let him stand before our face.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,<br />
+That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice<br />
+To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought<br />
+Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange<br />
+Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;<br />
+And where thou now exact'st the penalty,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,<br />
+But, touch'd with human gentleness and love,<br />
+Forgive a moiety of the principal;<br />
+Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,<br />
+That have of late so huddled on his back,<br />
+Enough to press a royal merchant down<br />
+And pluck commiseration of his state<br />
+From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,<br />
+From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd<br />
+To offices of tender courtesy.<br />
+We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose;<br />
+And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn<br />
+To have the due and forfeit of my bond:<br />
+If you deny it, let the danger light<br />
+Upon your charter and your city's freedom.<br />
+You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have<br />
+A weight of carrion flesh than to receive<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>Three thousand ducats; I'll not answer that;<br />
+But, say, it is my humor; is it answer'd?<br />
+What if my house be troubled with a rat,<br />
+And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats<br />
+To have it ban'd? What, are you answer'd yet?<br />
+Some men there are love not a gaping pig;<br />
+Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;<br />
+And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose,<br />
+Cannot contain themselves: for affection,<br />
+Master of passion, sways it to the mood<br />
+Of what it likes, or loathes. Now, for your answer:<br />
+As there is no firm reason to be render'd,<br />
+Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;<br />
+Why he, a harmless necessary cat;<br />
+Why he, a woollen bagpipe,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but of force<br />
+Must yield to such inevitable shame<br />
+As to offend, himself being offended;<br />
+So can I give no reason, nor I will not,<br />
+More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing<br />
+I bear Antonio, that I follow thus<br />
+A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd?</p>
+
+<p><i>Bassanio.</i> This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,<br />
+To excuse the current of thy cruelty.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> I am not bound to please thee with my answer.</p>
+
+<p><i>Bassanio.</i> Do all men kill the things they do not love?</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Hates any man the thing he would not kill?</p>
+
+<p><i>Bassanio.</i> Every offence is not a hate at first.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> What, would'st thou have a serpent sting thee twice?</p>
+
+<p><i>Antonio.</i> I pray you, think you question with the Jew.<br />
+You may as well go stand upon the beach,<br />
+And bid the main flood bate his usual height;<br />
+You may as well use question with the wolf,<br />
+Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;<br />
+You may as well forbid the mountain pines<br />
+To wag their high tops, and to make no noise,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven;<br />
+You may as well do anything most hard,<br />
+As seek to soften that<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>than which what's harder?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,<br />
+Make no more offers, use no further means,<br />
+But, with all brief and plain conveniency,<br />
+Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will.</p>
+
+<p><i>Bassanio.</i> For thy three thousand ducats here is six.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> If every ducat in six thousand ducats<br />
+Were in six parts, and every part a ducat,<br />
+I would not draw them; I would have my bond.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none?</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?<br />
+You have among you many a purchas'd slave,<br />
+Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules,<br />
+You use in abject and in slavish parts,<br />
+Because you bought them: shall I say to you,<br />
+Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?<br />
+Why sweat they under burdens? let their beds<br />
+Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates<br />
+Be season'd with such viands? You will answer,<br />
+"The slaves are ours:" so do I answer you:<br />
+The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,<br />
+Is dearly bought; 'tis mine, and I will have it:<br />
+If you deny me, fie upon your law!<br />
+There is no force in the decrees of Venice.<br />
+I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> Upon my power I may dismiss this court,<br />
+Unless Bellario, a learn<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d doctor,<br />
+Whom I have sent for to determine this,<br />
+Come here to-day.</p>
+
+<p><i>Solanio.</i><span style="padding-left: 6em;">My lord, here stays without</span><br />
+A messenger with letters from the doctor,<br />
+New come from Padua.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> Bring us the letters; call the messenger.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span><i>Bassanio.</i> Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!<br />
+The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,<br />
+Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.</p>
+
+<p><i>Antonio.</i> I am a tainted wether of the flock,<br />
+Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit<br />
+Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me:<br />
+You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio,<br />
+Than to live still, and write mine epitaph.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Nerissa</span>, <i>dressed like a lawyer's clerk.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> Came you from Padua, from Bellario?</p>
+
+<p><i>Nerissa.</i> From both, my lord: Bellario greets your grace.<br />
+<span class="right">[<i>Presents a letter.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Bassanio.</i> Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.</p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,<br />
+Thou mak'st thy knife keen; but no metal can,<br />
+No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness<br />
+Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?</p>
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.</p>
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog!<br />
+And for thy life let justice be accus'd.<br />
+Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith,<br />
+To hold opinion with Pythagoras,<br />
+That souls of animals infuse themselves<br />
+Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit<br />
+Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,<br />
+Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,<br />
+And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,<br />
+Infus'd itself in thee; for thy desires<br />
+Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,<br />
+Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud:<br />
+Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.<br />
+<i>Duke.</i> This letter from Bellario doth commend<br />
+A young and learn<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d doctor to our court:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Where is he?</p>
+
+<p><i>Nerissa.</i> He attendeth here hard by,<br />
+To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.</p>
+<p><i>Duke.</i> With all my heart.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Some three or four of you<br />
+Go give him courteous conduct to this place.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter.<br />
+</p>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p>[Clerk reads.] <i>Your grace shall understand, that, at the receipt
+of your letter, I am very sick: but, in the instant that your
+messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor
+of Rome; his name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the
+cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant:
+we turned o'er many books together: he is furnished with my
+opinion: which, bettered with his own learning, the greatness
+whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him, at my importunity,
+to fill up your grace's request in my stead. I beseech
+you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a
+reverend estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so
+old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial
+shall better publish his commendation.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> You hear the learned Bellario, what he writes:<br />
+And here, I take it, is the doctor come.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Portia</span>, <i>dressed like a doctor of laws.</i></p>
+
+<p>Give me your hand: came you from old Bellario?</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> I did, my lord.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i><span style="padding-left: 8em;">You are welcome; take your place.</span><br />
+Are you acquainted with the difference<br />
+That holds this present question in the court?</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> I am inform<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d, throughly of the cause.<br />
+Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Is your name Shylock?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span><i>Shylock.</i><span style="padding-left: 11em;">Shylock is my name.</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;<br />
+Yet in such rule that the Venetian law<br />
+Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+You stand within his danger, do you not?<span class="right smcap">[<i>To</i> Antonio</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Antonio.</i> Ay, so he says.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i><span style="padding-left: 9em;">Do you confess the bond?</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Antonio.</i> I do.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i><span style="padding-left: 3.5em;">Then must the Jew be merciful.</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> On what compulsion must I? Tell me that.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> The quality of mercy is not strain'd;<br />
+It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven<br />
+Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd;<br />
+It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:<br />
+'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes<br />
+The thron<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d monarch better than his crown;<br />
+His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,<br />
+The attribute to awe and majesty,<br />
+Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;<br />
+But mercy is above this sceptred sway;<br />
+It is enthron<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d in the hearts of kings,<br />
+It is an attribute to God himself;<br />
+And earthly power doth then show likest God's<br />
+When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,<br />
+Though justice be thy plea, consider this,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+That, in the course of justice, none of us<br />
+Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;<br />
+And that same prayer doth teach us all to render<br />
+The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much<br />
+To mitigate the justice of thy plea;<br />
+Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice<br />
+Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.</p>
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,<br />
+The penalty and forfeit of my bond.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Is he not able to discharge the money?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span><i>Bassanio.</i> Yes, here I tender it for him in the court;<br />
+Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,<br />
+I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er,<br />
+On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:<br />
+If this will not suffice, it must appear<br />
+That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you,<br />
+Wrest once the law to your authority:<br />
+To do a great right, do a little wrong;<br />
+And curb this cruel devil of his will.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> It must not be; there is no power in Venice<br />
+Can alter a decree establish<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d:<br />
+'Twill be recorded for a precedent;<br />
+And many an error, by the same example,<br />
+Will rush into the state. It cannot be.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!<br />
+O wise young judge, how do I honour thee!</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> I pray you, let me look upon the bond.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:<br />
+Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?<br />
+No, not for Venice.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i><span style="padding-left: 6em;">Why, this bond is forfeit;</span><br />
+And lawfully by this the Jew may claim<br />
+A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off<br />
+Nearest the merchant's heart.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Be merciful;<br />
+Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> When it is paid according to the tenor.<br />
+It doth appear you are a worthy judge;<br />
+You know the law, your exposition<br />
+Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law,<br />
+Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,<br />
+Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear<br />
+There is no power in the tongue of man<br />
+To alter me: I stay here on my bond.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Antonio.</i> Most heartily I do beseech the court<br />
+To give the judgment.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i><span style="padding: 8em;">Why, then, thus it is:</span><br />
+You must prepare your bosom for his knife;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> O noble judge! O excellent young man!</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>For the intent and purpose of the law<br />
+Hath full relation to the penalty,<br />
+Which here appeareth due upon the bond.</p>
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> 'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge!<br />
+How much more elder art thou than thy looks!</p>
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Therefore, lay bare your bosom.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i><span style="padding-left: 16em;">Ay, his breast:</span><br />
+So says the bond:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>doth it not, noble judge?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+"Nearest his heart:" those are the very words.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> It is so. Are there balance here, to weigh<br />
+The flesh?</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> I have them ready.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,<br />
+To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Is it so nominated in the bond?</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> It is not so express'd; but what of that?<br />
+'Twere good you do so much for charity.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Come, merchant, have you anything to say?</p>
+
+<p><i>Antonio.</i> But little: I am arm'd, and well prepar'd.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!<br />
+Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;<br />
+For herein Fortune shows herself more kind<br />
+Than is her custom: it is still her use<br />
+To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,<br />
+To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow<br />
+An age of poverty; from which lingering penance<br />
+Of such a misery doth she cut me off.<br />
+Commend me to your honorable wife:<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>Tell her the process of Antonio's end;<br />
+Say how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death;<br />
+And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge<br />
+Whether Bassanio had not once a love.<br />
+Repent not you that you shall lose your friend,<br />
+And he repents not that he pays your debt;<br />
+For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough,<br />
+I'll pay it instantly with all my heart.</p>
+
+<p><i>Bassanio.</i> Antonio, I am married to a wife<br />
+Which is as dear to me as life itself;<br />
+But life itself, my wife, and all the world,<br />
+Are not with me esteem'd above thy life:<br />
+I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all<br />
+Here to this devil, to deliver you.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Your wife would give you little thanks for that,<br />
+If she were by, to hear you make the offer.</p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love:<br />
+I would she were in heaven, so she could<br />
+Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.</p>
+
+<p><i>Nerissa.</i> 'Tis well you offer it behind her back;<br />
+The wish would make else an unquiet house.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> [<i>Aside.</i>] These be the Christian husbands! I have a daughter;<br />
+Would any of the stock of B<ins class="translit" title="a acute">&#225;</ins>rrabas<br />
+Had been her husband rather than a Christian!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Portia</span>.] We trifle time; I pray thee, pursue sentence.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine:<br />
+The court awards it, and the law doth give it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Most rightful judge!</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> And you must cut this flesh from off his breast:<br />
+The law allows it, and the court awards it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Most learn<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d judge! A sentence!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Come, prepare.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Tarry a little; there is something else.<br />
+This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;<br />
+The words expressly are "a pound of flesh":<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;<br />
+But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed<br />
+One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods<br />
+Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate<br />
+Unto the state of Venice.</p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> O upright judge!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Mark, Jew:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>O learn<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d judge!</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Is that the law?</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i><span style="padding-left: 9em;">Thyself shalt see the act:</span><br />
+For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd<br />
+Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.</p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> O learn<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d judge!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Mark, Jew:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a learn<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d judge!</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> I take this offer, then: pay the bond thrice,<br />
+And let the Christian go.</p>
+
+<p><i>Bassanio.</i><span style="padding-left: 7.5em">Here is the money.</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Soft!<br />
+The Jew shall have all justice;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>soft! no haste:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+He shall have nothing but the penalty.</p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> O Jew! an upright judge, a learn<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d judge!</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh.<br />
+Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less nor more<br />
+But just a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more<br />
+Or less than a just pound,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>be it but so much<br />
+As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance,<br />
+Or the division of the twentieth part,<br />
+Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn<br />
+But in the estimation of a hair,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.</p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!<br />
+Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Why doth the Jew pause? Take thy forfeiture.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Give me my principal, and let me go.</p>
+
+<p><i>Bassanio.</i> I have it ready for thee; here it is.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> He hath refus'd it in the open court:<br />
+He shall have merely justice, and his bond.</p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> A Daniel, still say I; a second Daniel!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span><i>Shylock.</i> Shall I not have barely my principal?</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,<br />
+To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Why, then the devil give him good of it!<br />
+I'll stay no longer question.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i><span style="padding-left: 10.5em;">Tarry, Jew:</span><br />
+The law hath yet another hold on you.<br />
+It is enacted in the laws of Venice,<br />
+If it be prov'd against an alien<br />
+That by direct or indirect attempts<br />
+He seek the life of any citizen,<br />
+The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive<br />
+Shall seize one half his goods; the other half<br />
+Comes to the privy coffer of the state;<br />
+And the offender's life lies in the mercy<br />
+Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.<br />
+In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st;<br />
+For it appears, by manifest proceeding,<br />
+That, indirectly, and directly too,<br />
+Thou hast contriv'd against the very life<br />
+Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd<br />
+The danger formerly by me rehears'd.<br />
+Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke.</p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:<br />
+And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,<br />
+Thou hast not left the value of a cord;<br />
+Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,<br />
+I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:<br />
+For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;<br />
+The other half comes to the general state,<br />
+Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Ay, for the state; not for Antonio.</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that:<br />
+You take my house when you do take the prop<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>That doth sustain my house; you take my life,<br />
+When you do take the means whereby I live.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> What mercy can you render him, Antonio?</p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake.</p>
+
+<p><i>Antonio.</i> So please my lord the duke, and all the court,<br />
+To quit the fine for one half of his goods,<br />
+I am content, so he will let me have<br />
+The other half in use, to render it,<br />
+Upon his death, unto the gentleman<br />
+That lately stole his daughter:<br />
+Two things provided more,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that, for this favor,<br />
+He presently become a Christian;<br />
+The other, that he do record a gift,<br />
+Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,<br />
+Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> He shall do this; or else I do recant<br />
+The pardon that I late pronounc<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d here.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say?</p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> I am content.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i><span style="padding-left: 8em;">Clerk, draw a deed of gift.</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Shylock.</i> I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;<br />
+I am not well: send the deed after me,<br />
+And I will sign it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i><span style="padding-left: 6em;">Get thee gone, but do it.</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Gratiano.</i> In christening thou shalt have two godfathers;<br />
+Had I been judge, thou should'st have had ten more,<br />
+To bring thee to the gallows, not the font.<span class="right">[<i>Exit Shylock.</i></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.</p>
+
+<p><i>Portia.</i> I humbly do desire your grace of pardon:<br />
+I must away this night toward Padua,<br />
+And it is meet I presently set forth.</p>
+
+<p><i>Duke.</i> I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.<br />
+Antonio, gratify this gentleman,<br />
+For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="right">[<i>Exeunt omnes.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> As an introduction read "The Merchant of Venice," <span class="smcap">Fourth Reader</span>,
+page 311.</p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="iv" id="iv"></a><a href="#anchor_iv">IV</a>. OF BOLDNESS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lord Bacon</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1561-1626.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Essays</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy a
+wise man's consideration: question was asked of Demosthenes,
+what was the chief part of an orator? He answered,
+action: what next? action: what next again? action.
+He said it that knew it best, and had by nature himself
+no advantage in that he commended. A strange thing,
+that that part of an orator which is but superficial, and
+rather the virtue of a player, should be placed so high
+above those other noble parts, of invention, elocution,
+and the rest; nay, almost alone, as if it were all in all.
+But the reason is plain. There is in human nature generally
+more of the fool than of the wise; and therefore
+those faculties by which the foolish part of men's minds is
+taken, are most potent. Wonderful like is the case of
+boldness in civil business; what first? boldness: what
+second and third? boldness. And yet boldness is a child
+of ignorance and baseness, far inferior to other parts: but,
+nevertheless, it doth fascinate, and bind hand and foot
+those that are either shallow in judgment or weak in
+courage, which are the greatest part; yea, and prevaileth
+with wise men at weak times; therefore we see it hath
+done wonders in popular states, but with senates and
+princes less; and more, ever upon the first entrance of
+bold persons into action, than soon after; for boldness is
+an ill keeper of promise. Surely, as there are mountebanks
+for the natural body, so are there mountebanks for
+the politic body<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>men that undertake great cures, and
+perhaps have been lucky in two or three experiments, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+want the grounds of science, and therefore cannot hold
+out. Nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times do Mahomet's
+miracle. Mahomet made the people believe that
+he would call a hill to him, and from the top of it offer
+up his prayers for the observers of his law. The people
+assembled: Mahomet called the hill to come to him
+again and again; and when the hill stood still, he was
+never a whit abashed, but said, "If the hill will not come
+to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill." So these men,
+when they have promised great matters, and failed most
+shamefully, yet, if they have the perfection of boldness,
+they will but slight it over, and make a turn, and no more
+ado. Certainly, to men of great judgment, bold persons
+are sport to behold; nay, and to the vulgar also boldness
+hath somewhat of the ridiculous: for, if absurdity
+be the subject of laughter, doubt you not but great boldness
+is seldom without some absurdity; especially it is a
+sport to see when a bold fellow is out of countenance,
+for that puts his face into a most shrunken and wooden
+posture, as needs it must<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for in bashfulness the spirits
+do a little go and come<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but with bold men, upon like
+occasion, they stand at a stay; like a stale at chess, where
+it is no mate, but yet the game cannot stir: but this last
+were fitter for a satire than for a serious observation.
+This is well to be weighed, that boldness is ever blind,
+for it seeth not dangers and inconveniences: therefore it
+is ill in counsel, good in execution; so that the right use
+of bold persons is, that they never command in chief, but
+be seconds, and under the direction of others; for in
+counsel it is good to see dangers, and in execution not to
+see them, except they be very great.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 360px;">
+<p><i>He that cannot see well, let him go softly.</i></p>
+<p><span style="padding-left: 20em;" class="smcap">Bacon</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="v" id="v"></a><a href="#anchor_v">V</a>. TO DAFFODILS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<h4><span class="smcap">Robert Herrick</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1594-1674.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 300px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Fair</span> Daffodils, we weep to see<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">You haste away so soon;</span><br />
+As yet the early-rising sun<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">Has not attain'd his noon.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Stay, stay,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Until the hasting day</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Has run</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But to the even-song;</span><br />
+And, having pray'd together, we<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Will go with you along.</span></p>
+
+<p>We have short time to stay, as you;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">We have as short a spring;</span><br />
+As quick a growth to meet decay,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">As you, or anything.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">We die</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As your hours do, and dry</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Away,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">Like to the summer's rain;</span><br />
+Or as the pearls of morning's dew,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Ne'er to be found again.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 300px;">
+<p><i>Stone walls do not a prison make,</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;"><i>Nor iron bars a cage;</i></span><br />
+<i>Minds innocent and quiet take</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;"><i>That for a hermitage:</i></span><br />
+<i>If I have freedom in my love,</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;"><i>And in my soul am free,</i></span><br />
+<i>Angels alone, that soar above,</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;"><i>Enjoy such liberty.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;" class="smcap">Richard Lovelace</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1618-1658.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="vi" id="vi"></a><a href="#anchor_vi">VI</a>. OF CONTENTEDNESS IN<br />ALL ESTATES AND ACCIDENTS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Jeremy Taylor</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1613-1667.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Holy Living</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Virtues</span> and discourses are, like friends, necessary in
+all fortunes; but those are the best, which are friends in
+our sadnesses, and support us in our sorrows and sad accidents:
+and in this sense, no man that is virtuous can be
+friendless; nor hath any man reason to complain of the
+Divine Providence, or accuse the public disorder of things,
+or in his own infelicity, since God hath appointed one
+remedy for all the evils in the world, and that is a contented
+spirit: for this alone makes a man pass through
+fire, and not be scorched; through seas, and not be
+drowned; through hunger and nakedness, and want
+nothing. For since all the evil in the world consists in
+the disagreeing between the object and the appetite, as
+when a man hath what he desires not, or desires what he
+hath not, or desires amiss; he that composes his spirit to
+the present accident, hath variety of instances for his
+virtue, but none to trouble him, because his desires enlarge
+not beyond his present fortune: and a wise man is
+placed in the variety of chances, like the nave or centre
+of a wheel, in the midst of all the circumvolutions and
+changes of posture, without violence or change, save that
+it turns gently in compliance with its changed parts, and
+is indifferent which part is up, and which is down; for
+there is some virtue or other to be exercised, whatever
+happens, either patience or thanksgiving, love or fear,
+moderation or humility, charity or contentedness, and
+they are every one of them equally in order to his great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+end and immortal felicity: and beauty is not made by
+white or red, by black eyes and a round face, by a straight
+body and a smooth skin; but by a proportion to the
+fancy. No rules can make amiability; our minds and
+apprehensions make that: and so is our felicity; and we
+may be reconciled to poverty and a low fortune, if we
+suffer contentedness and the grace of God to make the
+proportions. For no man is poor that does not think himself
+so: but if, in a full fortune, with impatience he desires
+more, he proclaims his wants and his beggarly condition.
+But because this grace of contentedness was the sum of all
+the old moral philosophy, and a great duty in Christianity,
+and of most universal use in the whole course of our
+lives, and the only instrument to ease the burdens of the
+world and the enmities of sad chances, it will not be amiss
+to press it by the proper arguments by which God hath
+bound it upon our spirits; it being fastened by reason
+and religion, by duty and interest, by necessity and conveniency,
+by example, and by the proposition of excellent
+rewards, no less than peace and felicity.</p>
+
+<p>Contentedness in all estates is a duty of religion; it
+is the great reasonableness of complying with the Divine
+Providence, which governs all the world, and hath so
+ordered us in the administration of his great family.
+He were a strange fool that should be angry because dogs
+and sheep need no shoes, and yet himself is full of care
+to get some. God hath supplied those needs to them by
+natural provisions, and to thee by an artificial: for he
+hath given thee reason to learn a trade, or some means to
+make or buy them, so that it only differs in the manner
+of our provision: and which had you rather want, shoes
+or reason? and my patron, that hath given me a farm, is
+freer to me than if he gives a loaf ready baked. But,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+however, all these gifts come from him, and therefore it
+is fit he should dispense them as he pleases; and if we
+murmur here, we may, at the next melancholy, be
+troubled that God did not make us to be angels or stars.
+For if that which we are or have do not content us, we
+may be troubled for every thing in the world which is
+beside our being or our possessions.</p>
+
+<p>God is the master of the scenes; we must not choose
+which part we shall act; it concerns us only to be careful
+that we do it well, always saying, "If this please God, let
+it be as it is:" and we, who pray that God's will may be
+done in earth as it is in heaven, must remember that the
+angels do whatsoever is commanded them, and go wherever
+they are sent, and refuse no circumstances; and if their
+employment be crossed by a higher decree, they sit down
+in peace, and rejoice in the event; and when the angel of
+Judea could not prevail in behalf of the people committed
+to his charge, because the angel of Persia opposed it, he
+only told the story at the command of God, and was as
+content, and worshipped with as great an ecstasy in his
+proportion, as the prevailing spirit. Do thou so likewise:
+keep the station where God hath placed you, and you
+shall never long for things without, but sit at home, feasting
+upon the Divine Providence and thy own reason, by
+which we are taught that it is necessary and reasonable
+to submit to God.</p>
+
+<p>For is not all the world God's family? Are not we
+his creatures? Are we not as clay in the hand of the
+potter? Do we not live upon his meat, and move by
+his strength, and do our work by his light? Are we
+any thing but what we are from him? And shall there
+be a mutiny among the flocks and herds, because their
+lord or their shepherd chooses their pastures, and suffers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+them not to wander into deserts and unknown ways? If
+we choose, we do it so foolishly that we cannot like it
+long, and most commonly not at all: but God, who can
+do what he pleases, is wise to choose safely for us, affectionate
+to comply with our needs, and powerful to execute
+all his wise decrees. Here, therefore, is the wisdom
+of the contented man, to let God choose for him; for
+when we have given up our wills to him, and stand in
+that station of the battle where our great General hath
+placed us, our spirits must needs rest while our conditions
+have for their security the power, the wisdom, and the
+charity of God.</p>
+
+<p>Contentedness in all accidents brings great peace of
+spirit, and is the great and only instrument of temporal
+felicity. It removes the sting from the accident, and
+makes a man not to depend upon chance and the uncertain
+dispositions of men for his well-being, but only on
+God and his own spirit. We ourselves make our fortunes
+good or bad; and when God lets loose a tyrant upon us,
+or a sickness, or scorn, or a lessened fortune, if we fear to
+die, or know not to be patient, or are proud or covetous,
+then the calamity sits heavy on us. But if we know how
+to manage a noble principle, and fear not death so much
+as a dishonest action, and think impatience a worse evil
+than a fever, and pride to be the biggest disgrace, and
+poverty to be infinitely desirable before the torments of
+covetousness; then we who now think vice to be so easy,
+and make it so familiar, and think the cure so impossible,
+shall quickly be of another mind, and reckon these
+accidents amongst things eligible.</p>
+
+<p>But no man can be happy that hath great hopes and
+great fears of things without, and events depending upon
+other men, or upon the chances of fortune. The rewards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+of virtue are certain, and our provisions for our natural
+support are certain; or if we want meat till we die, then
+we die of that disease<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and there are many worse than
+to die with an atrophy or consumption, or unapt and
+coarser nourishment. But he that suffers a transporting
+passion concerning things within the power of others, is
+free from sorrow and amazement no longer than his
+enemy shall give him leave; and it is ten to one but he
+shall be smitten then and there where it shall most trouble
+him; for so the adder teaches us where to strike, by her
+curious and fearful defending of her head. The old
+Stoics, when you told them of a sad story, would still
+answer, "<i>What is that to me?</i>" Yes, for the tyrant hath
+sentenced you also to prison. Well, what is that? He
+will put a chain upon my leg; but he cannot bind my
+soul. No; but he will kill you. Then I will die. If
+presently, let me go, that I may presently be freer than
+himself: but if not till anon, or to-morrow, I will dine
+first, or sleep, or do what reason or nature calls for, as at
+other times. This, in Gentile philosophy, is the same
+with the discourse of St. Paul, "I have learned, in whatsoever
+state I am, therewith to be content. I know both
+how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every
+where and in all things I am instructed, both to be full
+and to be hungry; both to abound and suffer need."</p>
+
+<p>We are in the world like men playing at tables; the
+chance is not in our power, but to play it is; and when
+it is fallen we must manage it as we can: and let nothing
+trouble us, but when we do a base action, or speak like
+a fool, or think wickedly,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>these things God hath put
+into our powers; but concerning those things which are
+wholly in the choice of another, they cannot fall under
+our deliberation, and therefore neither are they fit for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+our passions. My fear may make me miserable, but it
+cannot prevent what another hath in his power and purpose;
+and prosperities can only be enjoyed by them who
+fear not at all to lose them; since the amazement and
+passion concerning the future takes off all the pleasure
+of the present possession. Therefore, if thou hast lost
+thy land, do not also lose thy constancy; and if thou
+must die a little sooner, yet do not die impatiently. For
+no chance is evil to him that is content: and to a man
+nothing is miserable unless it be unreasonable. No man
+can make another man to be his slave unless he hath
+first enslaved himself to life and death, to pleasure or
+pain, to hope or fear: command these passions, and you
+are freer than the Parthian kings.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="vii" id="vii"></a><a href="#anchor_vii">VII</a>. TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Richard Lovelace</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1618-1658.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 310px;">
+<p>Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">That from the nunnery</span><br />
+Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">To war and arms I fly.</span></p>
+
+<p>True, a new mistress now I chase,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">The first foe in the field;</span><br />
+And with a stronger faith embrace<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">A sword, a horse, a shield.</span></p>
+
+<p>Yet this inconstancy is such<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">As you, too, shall adore,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I could not love thee, dear, so much,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">Lov'd I not honor more.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="viii" id="viii"></a><a href="#anchor_viii">VIII</a>. ANGLING.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Izaak Walton</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1593-1683.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Complete Angler</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><i>Venator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>O my good master, this morning walk has
+been spent to my great pleasure and wonder; but I pray,
+when shall I have your direction how to make artificial
+flies, like to those that the trout loves best, and also how
+to use them?</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>My honest scholar, it is now past five of the
+clock; we will fish till nine, and then go to breakfast. Go
+you to yon sycamore-tree, and hide your bottle of drink
+under the hollow root of it; for about that time, and in
+that place, we will make a brave breakfast with a piece
+of powdered beef, and a radish or two, that I have in my
+fish-bag: we shall, I warrant you, make a good, honest,
+wholesome, hungry breakfast, and I will then give you
+direction for the making and using of your flies; and in
+the meantime, there is your rod and line, and my advice
+is, that you fish as you see me do, and let's try which
+can catch the first fish.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I thank you, master; I will observe and
+practise your direction as far as I am able.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Look you, scholar, you see I have hold of
+a good fish: I now see it is a trout. I pray put that net
+under him, and touch not my line, for if you do, then
+we break all. Well done, scholar! I thank you.</p>
+
+<p>Now for another. Trust me, I have another bite:
+come, scholar, come, lay down your rod, and help me to
+land this as you did the other. So now we shall be
+sure to have a good dish for supper.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span><i>Venator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I am glad of that; but I have no fortune:
+sure, master, yours is a better rod and better tackling.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Nay, then, take mine; and I will fish with
+yours. Look you, scholar, I have another. Come, do
+as you did before. And now I have a bite at another.
+Oh me! he has broke all: there's half a line and a good
+hook lost.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Ay, and a good trout too.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Nay, the trout is not lost; for pray take
+notice, no man can lose what he never had.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Master, I can neither catch with the first
+nor second angle: I have no fortune.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Look you, scholar, I have yet another.
+And now, having caught two brace of trouts, I will tell
+you a short tale as we walk towards our breakfast. A
+scholar, a preacher I should say, that was to preach to
+procure the approbation of a parish that he might be
+their lecturer, had got from his fellow-pupil the copy of
+a sermon that was first preached with great commendation
+by him that composed it; and though the borrower
+of it preached it, word for word, as it was at first, yet it
+was utterly disliked as it was preached by the second to
+his congregation; which the sermon borrower complained
+of to the lender of it; and thus was answered: "I lent
+you, indeed, my fiddle, but not my fiddle-stick; for you
+are to know, that every one cannot make music with my
+words, which are fitted to my own mouth." And so, my
+scholar, you are to know, that as the ill pronunciation or
+ill accenting of words in a sermon spoils it, so the ill
+carriage of your line, or not fishing even to a foot in a
+right place, makes you lose your labor; and you are to
+know, that though you have my fiddle, that is, my very
+rod and tacklings with which you see I catch fish, yet you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+have not my fiddle-stick, that is, you yet have not skill
+to know how to carry your hand and line, nor how to
+guide it to a right place; and this must be taught you;
+for you are to remember, I told you angling is an art,
+either by practice or a long observation, or both. But
+take this for a rule: when you fish for a trout with a
+worm, let your line have so much and not more lead
+than will fit the stream in which you fish; that is to say,
+more in a great troublesome stream than in a smaller
+that is quieter; as near as may be, so much as will sink
+the bait to the bottom, and keep it still in motion, and
+not more.</p>
+
+<p>But now let's say grace and fall to breakfast. What
+say you, scholar, to the providence of an old angler? does
+not this meat taste well? and was not this place well
+chosen to eat it? for this sycamore-tree will shade us
+from the sun's heat.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>All excellent good, and my stomach excellent
+good too. And now I remember and find that true
+which devout Lessius says: "That poor men, and those
+that fast often, have much more pleasure in eating than
+rich men and gluttons, that always feed before their
+stomachs are empty of their last meal, and call for more;
+for by that means they rob themselves of that pleasure
+that hunger brings to poor men." And I do seriously
+approve of that saying of yours, "that you would rather
+be a civil, well-governed, well-grounded, temperate, poor
+angler, than a drunken lord." But I hope there is none
+such: however, I am certain of this, that I have been at
+many very costly dinners that have not afforded me half
+the content that this has done, for which I thank God and
+you.</p>
+
+<p>And now, good master, proceed to your promised direction
+for making and ordering my artificial fly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span><i>Piscator</i>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>My honest scholar, I will do it; for it is a
+debt due unto you by my promise....</p>
+
+<p>... Look how it begins to rain!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and by the clouds,
+if I mistake not, we shall presently have a smoking
+shower, and therefore sit close: this sycamore-tree will
+shelter us; and I will tell you, as they shall come into
+my mind, more observations of fly-fishing for a trout....</p>
+
+<p>... And now, scholar, my direction for fly-fishing is
+ended with this shower, for it has done raining: and now
+look about you, and see how pleasantly that meadow
+looks; nay, and the earth smells as sweetly too. Come,
+let me tell you what holy Mr. Herbert says of such days
+and flowers as these; and then we will thank God that
+we enjoy them, and walk to the river and sit down
+quietly, and try to catch the other brace of trouts.</p>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 360px;">
+<p>Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,<br />
+The bridal of the earth and sky:<br />
+The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 12em;">For thou must die.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,<br />
+Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,<br />
+Thy root is ever in its grave;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 12em;">And thou must die.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses,<br />
+A box where sweets compacted lie;<br />
+Thy music shows ye have your closes;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 12em;">And all must die.</span></p>
+
+<p>Only a sweet and virtuous soul,<br />
+Like season'd timber, never gives;<br />
+But, though the whole world turn to coal,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 12em;">Then chiefly lives.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span><i>Venator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I thank you, good master, for your good
+direction for fly-fishing, and for the sweet enjoyment of
+the pleasant day, which is so far spent without offence to
+God or man; and I thank you for the sweet close of
+your discourse with Mr. Herbert's verses, who, I have
+heard, loved angling; and I do the rather believe it, because
+he had a spirit suitable to anglers, and to those
+primitive Christians that you love and have so much
+commended.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Well, my loving scholar, and I am pleased
+to know that you are so well pleased with my direction
+and discourse.... And now, I think it will be time to
+repair to our angle-rods, which we left in the water to
+fish for themselves: and you shall choose which shall be
+yours; and it is an even lay, one of them catches.</p>
+
+<p>And, let me tell you, this kind of fishing with a dead
+rod, and laying night-hooks, are like putting money to
+use; for they both work for the owners, when they do
+nothing but sleep, or eat, or rejoice; as you know we
+have done this last hour, and sat as quietly, and as free
+from cares under this sycamore, as Virgil's Tityrus and
+his Melib<ins class="translit" title="oe ligature">&#339;</ins>us did, under their broad beech tree. No life,
+my honest scholar, no life so happy and so pleasant, as
+the life of a well-governed angler; for when the lawyer
+is swallowed up with business, and the statesman is preventing
+or contriving plots, then we sit on cowslip banks,
+hear the birds sing, and possess ourselves in as much
+quietness as these silent silver streams, which we now see
+glide so quietly by us. Indeed, my good scholar, we
+may say of angling as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries,
+"Doubtless, God could have made a better berry, but
+doubtless, God never did;" and so, if I might be judge,
+"God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation
+than angling."</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="ix" id="ix"></a><a href="#anchor_ix">IX</a>. ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4>(1629).</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">John Milton</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1608-1674.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 520px;">
+
+<p><b>I.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> is the month, and this the happy morn,<br />
+Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King,<br />
+Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,<br />
+Our great redemption from above did bring;<br />
+For so the holy sages once did sing,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That he our deadly forfeit should release,</span><br />
+And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.</p>
+
+<p><b>II.</b></p>
+
+<p>That glorious form, that light unsufferable,<br />
+And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,<br />
+Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table<br />
+To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,<br />
+He laid aside; and, here with us to be,<br />
+Forsook the courts of everlasting day,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.</span></p>
+
+<p><b>III.</b></p>
+
+<p>Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein<br />
+Afford a present to the Infant God?<br />
+Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,<br />
+To welcome him to this his new abode,<br />
+Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod,<br />
+Hath took no print of the approaching light,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?</span></p>
+
+<p><b>IV.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>See how from far upon the eastern road<br />
+The star-led wizards haste with odors sweet!<br />
+O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,<br />
+And lay it lowly at his bless<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d feet;<br />
+Have thou the honor first thy Lord to greet,<br />
+And join thy voice unto the Angel Choir,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2>THE HYMN.</h2>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 500px;">
+
+<p><b>1.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was the winter wild,<br />
+While the Heaven-born child,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">All meanly wrapt, in the rude manger lies;</span><br />
+Nature, in awe to him,<br />
+Had doff'd her gaudy trim,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With her great Master so to sympathize:</span><br />
+It was no season then for her<br />
+To wanton with the Sun, her lusty paramour.</p>
+
+<p><b>2.</b></p>
+
+<p>Only, with speeches fair,<br />
+She woos the gentle Air<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To hide her guilty front with innocent snow,</span><br />
+And on her naked shame,<br />
+Pollute with sinful blame,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The saintly veil of maiden white to throw;</span><br />
+Confounded, that her Maker's eyes<br />
+Should look so near upon her foul deformities.</p>
+
+<p><b>3.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>But he, her fears to cease,<br />
+Sent down the meek-ey'd Peace:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding</span><br />
+Down through the turning sphere,<br />
+His ready harbinger,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;</span><br />
+And, waving wide her myrtle wand,<br />
+She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.</p>
+
+<p><b>4.</b></p>
+
+<p>No war, or battle's sound,<br />
+Was heard the world around:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The idle spear and shield were high up hung;</span><br />
+The hook<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d chariot stood,<br />
+Unstain'd with hostile blood;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The trumpet spake not to the arm</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d throng;<br />
+And kings sat still with awful eye,<br />
+As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.</p>
+
+<p><b>5.</b></p>
+
+<p>But peaceful was the night<br />
+Wherein the Prince of Light<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">His reign of peace upon the earth began:</span><br />
+The winds, with wonder whist,<br />
+Smoothly the waters kiss'd,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean,</span><br />
+Who now hath quite forgot to rave,<br />
+While birds of calm sit brooding on the charm<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d wave.</p>
+
+<p><b>6.</b></p>
+
+<p>The stars, with deep amaze,<br />
+Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Bending one way their precious influence;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>And will not take their flight,<br />
+For all the morning light,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence;</span><br />
+But in their glimmering orbs did glow,<br />
+Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.</p>
+
+<p><b>7.</b></p>
+
+<p>And, though the shady gloom<br />
+Had given day her room,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The Sun himself withheld his wonted speed;</span><br />
+And hid his head for shame,<br />
+As his inferior flame<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The new-enlighten'd world no more should need;</span><br />
+He saw a greater Sun appear<br />
+Than his bright throne or burning axletree could bear.</p>
+
+<p><b>8.</b></p>
+
+<p>The shepherds on the lawn,<br />
+Or ere the point of dawn,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Sat simply chatting in a rustic row;</span><br />
+Full little thought they then<br />
+That the mighty Pan<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Was kindly come to live with them below:</span><br />
+Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,<br />
+Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.</p>
+
+<p><b>9.</b></p>
+
+<p>When such music sweet<br />
+Their hearts and ears did greet,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As never was by mortal finger strook,</span><br />
+Divinely-warbled voice<br />
+Answering the string<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d noise,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As all their souls in blissful rapture took:</span><br />
+The Air, such pleasure loth to lose,<br />
+With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.
+</p>
+
+<p><b>10.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>Nature, that heard such sound<br />
+Beneath the hollow round<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Of Cynthia's seat, the Airy region thrilling,</span><br />
+Now was almost won<br />
+To think her part was done,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And that her reign had here its last fulfilling:</span><br />
+She knew such harmony alone<br />
+Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.</p>
+
+<p><b>11.</b></p>
+
+<p>At last surrounds their sight<br />
+A globe of circular light,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That with long beams the shame-faced Night array'd;</span><br />
+The helm<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d cherubim,<br />
+And sword<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d seraphim,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd,</span><br />
+Harping in loud and solemn choir,<br />
+With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-born Heir.</p>
+
+<p><b>12.</b></p>
+
+<p>Such music (as 'tis said)<br />
+Before was never made,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But when of old the Sons of Morning sung,</span><br />
+While the Creator great<br />
+His constellations set,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the well-balanced world on hinges hung,</span><br />
+And cast the dark foundations deep,<br />
+And bid the welt'ring waves their oozy channel keep.</p>
+
+<p><b>13.</b></p>
+
+<p>Ring out, ye crystal spheres!<br />
+Once bless our human ears,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">(If ye have power to touch our senses so,)</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>And let your silver chime<br />
+Move in melodious time;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And let the bass of Heaven's deep organ blow;</span><br />
+And with your ninefold harmony<br />
+Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.</p>
+
+<p><b>14.</b></p>
+
+<p>For, if such holy song<br />
+Enwrap our fancy long,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Time will run back, and fetch the Age of Gold;</span><br />
+And speckled Vanity<br />
+Will sicken soon and die;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould;</span><br />
+And Hell itself will pass away,<br />
+And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.</p>
+
+<p><b>15.</b></p>
+
+<p>Yea, Truth and Justice then<br />
+Will down return to men,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,</span><br />
+Mercy will sit between,<br />
+Thron'd in celestial sheen,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With radiant feet the tissu'd clouds down steering;</span><br />
+And Heaven, as at some festival,<br />
+Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall.</p>
+
+<p><b>16.</b></p>
+
+<p>But wisest Fate says, No,<br />
+This must not yet be so;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy,</span><br />
+That on the bitter cross<br />
+Must redeem our loss;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">So both himself and us to glorify:</span><br />
+Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep,<br />
+The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.</p>
+
+<p><b>17.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>With such a horrid clang<br />
+As on Mount Sinai rang,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">While the red fire and smould'ring clouds out brake:</span><br />
+The aged Earth, aghast,<br />
+With terror of that blast,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shall from the surface to the centre shake;</span><br />
+When, at the world's last session,<br />
+The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.</p>
+
+<p><b>18.</b></p>
+
+<p>And then at last our bliss<br />
+Full and perfect is,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But now begins; for from this happy day</span><br />
+The Old Dragon under ground,<br />
+In straiter limits bound,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Not half so far casts his usurp</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d sway;<br />
+And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,<br />
+Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.</p>
+
+<p><b>19.</b></p>
+
+<p>The Oracles are dumb;<br />
+No voice or hideous hum<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Runs through the arch</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d roof in words deceiving.<br />
+Apollo from his shrine<br />
+Can no more divine,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.</span><br />
+No nightly trance, or breath<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d spell,<br />
+Inspires the pale-ey'd priest from the prophetic cell.</p>
+
+<p><b>20.</b></p>
+
+<p>The lonely mountains o'er,<br />
+And the resounding shore,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>From haunted spring, and dale<br />
+Edg'd with poplar pale,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The parting Genius is with sighing sent;</span><br />
+With flower-inwoven tresses torn<br />
+The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.</p>
+
+<p><b>21.</b></p>
+
+<p>In consecrated earth,<br />
+And on the holy hearth,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The Lars, and Lemures, moan with midnight plaint;</span><br />
+In urns, and altars round,<br />
+A drear and dying sound<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;</span><br />
+And the chill marble seems to sweat,<br />
+While each peculiar Power forgoes his wonted seat.</p>
+
+<p><b>22.</b></p>
+
+<p>Peor, and B<ins class="translit" title="a diaresis">&#228;</ins>lim,<br />
+Forsake their temples dim,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With that twice-batter'd God of Palestine;</span><br />
+And moon<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d Ashtaroth,<br />
+Heaven's queen and mother both,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine:</span><br />
+The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn;<br />
+In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.</p>
+
+<p><b>23.</b></p>
+
+<p>And sullen Moloch, fled,<br />
+Hath left in shadows dread,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">His burning idol all of blackest hue</span><br />
+In vain with cymbals' ring<br />
+They call the grisly king,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In dismal dance about the furnace blue;</span><br />
+The brutish gods of Nile as fast,<br />
+Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.</p>
+
+<p><b>24.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>Nor is Osiris seen<br />
+In Memphian grove or green,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud;</span><br />
+Nor can he be at rest<br />
+Within his sacred chest;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud;</span><br />
+In vain, with timbrell'd anthems dark,<br />
+The sable-stol<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark.</p>
+
+<p><b>25.</b></p>
+
+<p>He feels from Juda's land<br />
+The dreaded Infant's hand;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;</span><br />
+Nor all the gods beside<br />
+Longer dare abide,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:</span><br />
+Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,<br />
+Can in his swaddling bands control the damn<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d crew.</p>
+
+<p><b>26.</b></p>
+
+<p>So, when the sun in bed,<br />
+Curtain'd with cloudy red,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,</span><br />
+The flocking shadows pale<br />
+Troop to the infernal jail,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave;</span><br />
+And the yellow-skirted fays<br />
+Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.</p>
+
+<p><b>27.</b></p>
+
+<p>But see! the Virgin blest<br />
+Hath laid her Babe to rest.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Time is our tedious song should here have ending:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+Heaven's youngest-teem<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d star,<br />
+Hath fix'd her polish'd car,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;</span><br />
+And all about the courtly stable<br />
+Bright-harness'd Angels sit in order serviceable.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="x" id="x"></a><a href="#anchor_x">X</a>. CHARACTER OF LORD FALKLAND.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lord Clarendon</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1608-1674.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">History of the Rebellion</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> this unhappy battle [of Newbury] was slain the
+Lord Viscount Falkland; a person of such prodigious
+parts of learning and knowledge, of that inimitable
+sweetness and delight in conversation, of so flowing and
+obliging a humanity and goodness to mankind, and of
+that primitive simplicity and integrity of life, that if there
+were no other brand upon this odious and accursed civil
+war, than that single loss, it must be most infamous, and
+execrable to all posterity.</p>
+
+<p>Before this parliament, his condition of life was so
+happy that it was hardly capable of improvement.
+Before he came to be twenty years of age, he was master
+of a noble fortune, which descended to him by the gift of
+a grandfather, without passing through his father or
+mother, who were then both alive, and not well enough
+contented to find themselves passed by in the descent.
+His education for some years had been in Ireland, where
+his father was lord-deputy; so that, when he returned
+into England, to the possession of his fortune, he was
+unentangled with any acquaintance or friends, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+usually grow up by the custom of conversation; and
+therefore was to make a pure election of his company;
+which he chose by other rules than were prescribed to
+the young nobility of that time. And it cannot be
+denied, though he admitted some few to his friendship
+for the agreeableness of their natures, and their undoubted
+affection to him, that his familiarity and friendship, for the
+most part, was with men of the most eminent and sublime
+parts, and of untouched reputation in point of integrity;
+and such men had a title to his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>He was a great cherisher of wit, and fancy, and good
+parts in any man; and, if he found them clouded with
+poverty or want, a most liberal and bountiful patron
+towards them, even above his fortune; of which, in those
+administrations, he was such a dispenser, as, if he had
+been trusted with it to such uses, and if there had been
+the least of vice in his expense, he might have been
+thought too prodigal. He was constant and pertinacious
+in whatsoever he resolved to do, and not to be wearied by
+any pains that were necessary to that end. And, therefore,
+having once resolved not to see London, which he
+loved above all places, till he had perfectly learned the
+Greek tongue, he went to his own house in the country,
+and pursued it with that indefatigable industry, that it
+will not be believed in how short a time he was master
+of it, and accurately read all the Greek historians.</p>
+
+<p>In this time, his house being within little more than
+ten miles of Oxford, he contracted familiarity and friendship
+with the most polite and accurate men of that
+university; who found such an immenseness of wit, and
+such a solidity of judgment in him, so infinite a fancy,
+bound in by a most logical ratiocination, such a vast
+knowledge, that he was not ignorant in anything, yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+such an excessive humility, as if he had known nothing,
+that they frequently resorted and dwelt with him, as in a
+college situated in a purer air; so that his house was a
+university in a less volume; whither they came not so
+much for repose as study; and to examine and refine
+those grosser propositions, which laziness and consent
+made current in vulgar conversation....</p>
+
+<p>He was superior to all those passions and affections
+which attend vulgar minds, and was guilty of no other
+ambition than of knowledge, and to be reputed a lover
+of all good men; and that made him too much a contemner
+of those arts, which must be indulged in the transactions
+of human affairs....</p>
+
+<p>He had a courage of the most clear and keen temper,
+and so far from fear, that he seemed not without some
+appetite of danger; and therefore, upon any occasion of
+action, he always engaged his person in those troops
+which he thought, by the forwardness of the commanders,
+to be most like to be farthest engaged; and in all such
+encounters, he had about him an extraordinary cheerfulness,
+without at all affecting the execution that usually
+attended them; in which he took no delight, but took
+pains to prevent it, where it was not by resistance made
+necessary: insomuch that at Edge-hill, when the enemy
+was routed, he was like to have incurred great peril, by
+interposing to save those who had thrown away their
+arms, and against whom, it may be, others were more
+fierce for their having thrown them away: so that a man
+might think he came into the field chiefly out of curiosity
+to see the face of danger, and charity to prevent the
+shedding of blood. Yet, in his natural inclination, he
+acknowledged he was addicted to the profession of a
+soldier; and shortly after he came to his fortune, before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+he was of age, he went into the Low Countries, with a
+resolution of procuring command, and to give himself up
+to it; from which he was diverted by the complete inactivity
+of that summer; so he returned into England, and
+shortly after entered upon that vehement course of study
+we mentioned before, till the first alarm from the north;
+then again he made ready for the field, and though he
+received some repulse in the command of a troop of
+horse, of which he had a promise, he went a volunteer
+with the earl of Essex.</p>
+
+<p>From the entrance into this unnatural war, his natural
+cheerfulness and vivacity grew clouded, and a kind of
+sadness and dejection of spirit stole upon him, which he
+had never been used to; yet being one of those who
+believed that one battle would end all differences, and
+that there would be so great a victory on one side, that
+the other would be compelled to submit to any conditions
+from the victor<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>which supposition and conclusion
+generally sunk into the minds of most men, and prevented
+the looking after many advantages that might
+then have been laid hold of<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>he resisted those indispositions.
+But after the king's return from Brentford, and
+the furious resolution of the two Houses not to admit
+any treaty for peace, those indispositions, which had
+before touched him, grew into a perfect habit of uncheerfulness;
+and he, who had been so exactly unreserved
+and affable to all men, that his face and countenance was
+always present, and vacant, to his company, and held
+any cloudiness, and less pleasantness of the visage, a
+kind of rudeness or incivility, became, on a sudden, less
+communicable; and thence, very sad, pale, and exceedingly
+affected with the spleen. In his clothes and habit,
+which he had minded before always with more neatness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+and industry, and expense, than is usual to so great a
+soul, he was not now only incurious, but too negligent;
+and in his reception of suitors, and the necessary or
+casual addresses to his place, so quick, and sharp, and
+severe, that there wanted not some men<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>strangers to
+his nature and disposition<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who believed him proud and
+imperious; from which no mortal man was ever more
+free....</p>
+
+<p>When there was any overture or hope of peace, he
+would be more erect and vigorous, and exceedingly
+solicitous to press anything which he thought might
+promote it; and sitting among his friends, often, after a
+deep silence, and frequent sighs, would, with a shrill and
+sad accent, ingeminate the word <i>Peace, Peace</i>; and
+would passionately profess, "that the very agony of the
+war, and the view of the calamities and desolation the
+kingdom did and must endure, took his sleep from him,
+and would shortly break his heart." This made some
+think, or pretend to think, "that he was so much
+enamoured of peace, that he would have been glad the
+king should have bought it at any price;" which was a
+most unreasonable calumny. As if a man, that was
+himself the most punctual and precise in every circumstance
+that might reflect upon conscience or honor,
+could have wished the king to have committed a trespass
+against either....</p>
+
+<p>In the morning before the battle, as always upon
+action, he was very cheerful, and put himself into the
+first rank of the Lord Byron's regiment, then advancing
+upon the enemy, who had lined the hedges on both
+sides with musketeers; from whence he was shot with
+a musket in the lower part of the belly, and in the
+instant falling from his horse, his body was not found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+till the next morning; till when, there was some hope
+he might have been a prisoner; though his nearest
+friends, who knew his temper, received small comfort
+from that imagination. Thus fell that incomparable
+young man, in the four-and-thirtieth year of his age,
+having so much despatched the true business of life,
+that the oldest rarely attain to that immense knowledge,
+and the youngest enter not into the world with more
+innocency: whosoever leads such a life, needs be the less
+anxious upon how short warning it is taken from him.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xi" id="xi"></a><a href="#anchor_xi">XI</a>. VENI, CREATOR SPIRITUS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">John Dryden</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1631-1700.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 420px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Creator</span> Spirit, by whose aid<br />
+The world's foundations first were laid,<br />
+Come, visit every pious mind;<br />
+Come, pour thy joys on humankind;<br />
+From sin and sorrow set us free,<br />
+And make thy temples worthy thee.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">O source of uncreated light,</span><br />
+The Father's promis'd Paraclete!<br />
+Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,<br />
+Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;<br />
+Come, and thy sacred unction bring<br />
+To sanctify us, while we sing.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Plenteous of grace, descend from high,</span><br />
+Rich in thy sevenfold energy!<br />
+Thou strength of his Almighty hand,<br />
+Whose power does heaven and earth command;<br />
+Proceeding Spirit, our defence,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,<br />
+And crown'st thy gift with eloquence.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Refine and purge our earthy parts;</span><br />
+But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!<br />
+Our frailties help, our vice control,<br />
+Submit the senses to the soul;<br />
+And when rebellious they are grown,<br />
+Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Chase from our minds the infernal foe,</span><br />
+And peace, the fruit of Love, bestow;<br />
+And lest our feet should step astray,<br />
+Protect and guide us in the way.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Make us eternal truths receive,</span><br />
+And practise all that we believe:<br />
+Give us thy self, that we may see<br />
+The Father and the Son by thee.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Immortal honor, endless fame,</span><br />
+Attend the Almighty Father's name:<br />
+The Saviour Son be glorified,<br />
+Who for lost man's redemption died:<br />
+And equal adoration be,<br />
+Eternal Paraclete, to thee!</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xii" id="xii"></a><a href="#anchor_xii">XII</a>. LINES PRINTED UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF MILTON.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 350px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Three</span> poets, in three distant ages born,<br />
+Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.<br />
+The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd,<br />
+The next in majesty, in both the last.<br />
+The force of Nature could no farther go;<br />
+To make a third she join'd the former two.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xiii" id="xiii"></a><a href="#anchor_xiii">XIII</a>. REASON.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Religio Laici</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 400px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Dim</span> as the borrowed beams of moon and stars<br />
+To lonely, weary, wandering travellers,<br />
+Is Reason to the soul; and as on high<br />
+Those rolling fires discover but the sky,<br />
+Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray<br />
+Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,<br />
+But guide us upward to a better day<br />
+And as those nightly tapers disappear,<br />
+When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;<br />
+So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;<br />
+So dies, and so dissolves, in supernatural light.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><a name="xiv" id="xiv"></a><a href="#anchor_xiv">XIV</a>. ON THE LOVE OF COUNTRY AS A PRINCIPLE OF ACTION.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Richard Steele</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1672-1729.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Tatler</span>, June 10, 1710.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> men look into their own bosoms, and consider
+the generous seeds which are there planted, that might, if
+rightly cultivated, ennoble their lives, and make their
+virtue venerable to futurity; how can they, without
+tears, reflect on the universal degeneracy from that public
+spirit, which ought to be the first and principal motive
+of all their actions? In the Grecian and Roman nations,
+they were wise enough to keep up this great incentive,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+and it was impossible to be in the fashion without being
+a patriot. All gallantry had its first source from hence;
+and to want a warmth for the public welfare, was a
+defect so scandalous, that he who was guilty of it had
+no pretence to honor or manhood. What makes the
+depravity among us, in this behalf, the more vexatious
+and irksome to reflect upon, is, that the contempt of life
+is carried as far amongst us, as it could be in those
+memorable people; and we want only a proper application
+of the qualities which are frequent among us, to
+be as worthy as they. There is hardly a man to be
+found who will not fight upon any occasion, which he
+thinks may taint his own honor. Were this motive as
+strong in everything that regards the public, as it is in
+this our private case, no man would pass his life away
+without having distinguished himself by some gallant
+instance of his zeal towards it in the respective incidents
+of his life and profession. But it is so far otherwise, that
+there cannot at present be a more ridiculous animal,
+than one who seems to regard the good of others. He,
+in civil life, whose thoughts turn upon schemes which
+may be of general benefit, without further reflection, is
+called a projector; and the man whose mind seems
+intent upon glorious achievements, a knight-errant. The
+ridicule among us runs strong against laudable actions;
+nay, in the ordinary course of things, and the common
+regards of life, negligence of the public is an epidemic
+vice. The brewer in his excise, the merchant in his
+customs, and, for aught we know, the soldier in his
+muster-rolls, think never the worse of themselves for
+being guilty of their respective frauds towards the public.
+This evil is come to such a fantastical height, that he is
+a man <i>of</i> a public spirit, and heroically affected to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+country, who can go so far as even to turn usurer with
+all he has in her funds. There is not a citizen in whose
+imagination such a one does not appear in the same
+light of glory, as Codrus, Sc<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>vola, or any other great
+name in old Rome. Were it not for the heroes of so
+much <i>per cent.</i> as have regard enough for themselves and
+their nation to trade with her with their wealth, the very
+notion of public love would long ere now have vanished
+from among us. But however general custom may hurry
+us away in the stream of a common error, there is no
+evil, no crime, so great as that of being cold in matters
+relating to the common good. This is in nothing more
+conspicuous than in a certain willingness to receive
+anything that tends to the diminution of such as have
+been conspicuous instruments in our service. Such
+inclinations proceed from the most low and vile corruption,
+of which the soul of man is capable. This
+effaces not only the practice, but the very approbation
+of honor and virtue; and has had such an effect, that,
+to speak freely, the very sense of public good has no
+longer a part even in our conversations. Can then the
+most generous motive of life, the good of others, be so
+easily banished the breast of man? Is it possible to
+draw all our passions inward? Shall the boiling heat
+of youth be sunk in pleasures, the ambition of manhood
+in selfish intrigues? Shall all that is glorious, all that
+is worth the pursuit of great minds, be so easily rooted
+out? When the universal bent of a people seems
+diverted from the sense of their common good, and
+common glory, it looks like a fatality, and crisis of
+impending misfortune.</p>
+
+<p>The generous nations we just now mentioned understood
+this so very well, that there was hardly an oration<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+ever made, which did not turn upon this general sense,
+"That the love of their country was the first and most
+essential quality in an honest mind." Demosthenes,
+in a cause wherein his fame, reputation, and fortune,
+were embarked, puts his all upon this issue; "Let the
+Athenians," says he, "be benevolent to me, as they think
+I have been zealous for them." This great and discerning
+orator knew, there was nothing else in nature could
+bear him up against his adversaries, but this one quality
+of having shown himself willing or able to serve his
+country. This certainly is the test of merit; and the first
+foundation for deserving good-will is, having it yourself.
+The adversary of this orator at that time was <ins class="translit" title="AE ligature">&#198;</ins>schines,
+a man of wily arts and skill in the world, who could, as
+occasion served, fall in with a national start of passion,
+or sullenness of humor, which a whole nation is sometimes
+taken with as well as a private man; and by that
+means divert them from their common sense, into an
+aversion for receiving anything in its true light. But
+when Demosthenes had awakened his audience with that
+one hint of judging by the general tenor of his life
+towards them, his services bore down his opponent before
+him, who fled to the covert of his mean arts, until some
+more favorable opportunity should offer against the
+superior merit of Demosthenes.</p>
+
+<p>It were to be wished, that love of their country were
+the first principle of action in men of business, even for
+their own sakes; for when the world begins to examine
+into their conduct, the generality, who have no share in,
+or hopes of any part in power or riches, but what is the
+effect of their own labor or prosperity, will judge of them
+by no other method, than that of how profitable their
+administration has been to the whole. They who are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+out of the influence of men's fortune or favor, will let
+them stand or fall by this one only rule; and men who
+can bear being tried by it, are always popular in their
+fall. Those, who cannot suffer such a scrutiny, are contemptible
+in their advancement.</p>
+
+<p>But I am here running into shreds of maxims from
+reading Tacitus this morning, which has driven me from
+my recommendation of public spirit, which was the
+intended purpose of this lucubration. There is not a
+more glorious instance of it, than in the character of
+Regulus. This same Regulus was taken prisoner by the
+Carthaginians, and was sent by them to Rome, in order
+to demand some Punic noblemen, who were prisoners,
+in exchange for himself; and was bound by an oath
+that he would return to Carthage, if he failed in his
+commission. He proposes this to the senate, who were
+in suspense upon it, which Regulus observing, without
+having the least notion of putting the care of his own
+life in competition with the public good, desired them
+to consider that he was old, and almost useless; that
+those demanded in exchange were men of daring
+tempers, and great merit in military affairs; and
+wondered they would make any doubt of permitting
+him to go back to the short tortures prepared for him
+at Carthage, where he should have the advantage of
+ending a long life both gloriously and usefully. This
+generous advice was consented to; and he took his
+leave of his country and his weeping friends, to go to
+certain death, with that cheerful composure, as a man,
+after the fatigue of business in a court or a city, retires
+to the next village for the air.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 410px;">
+<p><i>When the heart is right there is true patriotism</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 10em">B</span><span class="smcap">ishop Berkeley</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1684-1753.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xv" id="xv"></a><a href="#anchor_xv">XV</a>. THE GOLDEN SCALES.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Joseph Addison</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1672-1719.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Spectator</span>, August 21, 1712.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">I was</span> lately entertaining myself with comparing
+Homer's balance, in which Jupiter is represented as
+weighing the fates of Hector and Achilles, with a passage
+of Virgil, wherein that deity is introduced as
+weighing the fates of Turnus and <ins class="translit" title="AE ligature">&#198;</ins>neas. I then
+considered how the same way of thinking prevailed in
+the eastern parts of the world, as in those noble passages
+of Scripture, where we are told, that the great king of
+Babylon, the day before his death, had been weighed
+in the balance, and been found wanting. In other
+places of the holy writings the Almighty is described
+as weighing the mountains in scales, making the weight
+for the winds, knowing the balancings of the clouds;
+and, in others, as weighing the actions of men, and
+laying their calamities together in a balance. Milton, as
+I have observed in a former paper, had an eye to several
+of these foregoing instances, in that beautiful description
+wherein he represents the archangel and the evil spirit
+as addressing themselves for the combat, but parted by
+the balance which appeared in the heavens, and weighed
+the consequences of such a battle.</p>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 490px;">
+<p>The Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray,<br />
+Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales, yet seen<br />
+Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign,<br />
+Wherein all things created first he weigh'd,<br />
+The pendulous round earth with balanced air<br />
+In counterpoise; now ponder; all events,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+Battles and realms: in these he puts two weights,<br />
+The sequel each of parting and of fight:<br />
+The latter quick up flew, and kick'd the beam;<br />
+Which Gabriel spying, thus bespake the fiend.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st mine,</span><br />
+Neither our own, but given; what folly then<br />
+To boast what arms can do! since thine no more<br />
+Than Heaven permits; nor mine, though doubled now<br />
+To trample thee as mire: for proof look up,<br />
+And read thy lot in yon celestial sign,<br />
+Where thou art weigh'd, and shewn how light, how weak,<br />
+If thou resist." The fiend look'd up and knew<br />
+His mounted scale aloft; nor more: but fled<br />
+Murm'ring, and with him fled the shades of night.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>These several amusing thoughts having taken possession
+of my mind some time before I went to sleep, and
+mingling themselves with my ordinary ideas, raised in
+my imagination a very odd kind of vision. I was,
+methought, replaced in my study, and seated in my
+elbow-chair, where I had indulged the foregoing speculations,
+with my lamp burning by me, as usual. Whilst
+I was here meditating on several subjects of morality,
+and considering the nature of many virtues and vices, as
+materials for those discourses with which I daily entertain
+the public; I saw, methought, a pair of golden scales
+hanging by a chain in the same metal over the table
+that stood before me; when, on a sudden, there were
+great heaps of weights thrown down on each side of
+them. I found upon examining these weights, they
+showed the value of everything that is in esteem among
+men. I made an essay of them, by putting the weight
+of wisdom in one scale, and that of riches in another,
+upon which the latter, to show its comparative lightness,
+immediately "flew up and kicked the beam."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>But, before I proceed, I must inform my reader, that
+these weights did not exert their natural gravity, till they
+were laid in the golden balance, insomuch that I could
+not guess which was light or heavy, whilst I held them
+in my hand. This I found by several instances, for
+upon my laying a weight in one of the scales, which was
+inscribed by the word Eternity; though I threw in that
+of time, prosperity, affliction, wealth, poverty, interest,
+success, with many other weights, which in my hand
+seemed very ponderous, they were not able to stir the
+opposite balance, nor could they have prevailed, though
+assisted with the weight of the sun, the stars, and the
+earth.</p>
+
+<p>Upon emptying the scales, I laid several titles and
+honors, with pomps, triumphs, and many weights of the
+like nature, in one of them, and seeing a little glittering
+weight lie by me, I threw it accidentally into the other
+scale, when, to my great surprise, it proved so exact a
+counterpoise, that it kept the balance in an equilibrium.
+This little glittering weight was inscribed upon the edges
+of it with the word Vanity. I found there were several
+other weights which were equally heavy, and exact
+counterpoises to one another; a few of them I tried, as
+avarice and poverty, riches and content, with some
+others.</p>
+
+<p>There were likewise several weights that were of the
+same figure, and seemed to correspond with each other,
+but were entirely different when thrown into the scales,
+as religion and hypocrisy, pedantry and learning, wit and
+vivacity, superstition and devotion, gravity and wisdom,
+with many others.</p>
+
+<p>I observed one particular weight lettered on both sides,
+and upon applying myself to the reading of it, I found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+on one side written "<i>In the dialect of men</i>," and underneath
+it, "<span class="smcap">calamities</span>;" on the other side was written,
+"<i>In the language of the gods</i>," and underneath, "<span class="smcap">blessings</span>."
+I found the intrinsic value of this weight to be
+much greater than I imagined, for it overpowered health,
+wealth, good-fortune, and many other weights, which
+were much more ponderous in my hand than the other.</p>
+
+<p>There is a saying among the Scotch, that "an ounce
+of mother is worth a pound of clergy;" I was sensible
+of the truth of this saying, when I saw the difference
+between the weight of natural parts and that of learning.
+The observation which I made upon these two weights
+opened to me a new field of discoveries, for notwithstanding
+the weight of natural parts was much heavier
+than that of learning, I observed that it weighed an
+hundred times heavier than it did before, when I put
+learning into the same scale with it. I made the same
+observation upon faith and morality; for notwithstanding
+the latter outweighed the former separately, it received a
+thousand times more additional weight from its conjunction
+with the former, than what it had by itself. This
+odd phenomenon showed itself in other particulars, as in
+wit and judgment, philosophy and religion, justice and
+humanity, zeal and charity, depth of sense and perspicuity
+of style, with innumerable other particulars, too
+long to be mentioned in this paper.</p>
+
+<p>As a dream seldom fails of dashing seriousness with
+impertinence, mirth with gravity, methought I made
+several other experiments of a more ludicrous nature, by
+one of which I found that an English octavo was very
+often heavier than a French folio; and by another, that
+an old Greek or Latin author weighed down a whole
+library of moderns. Seeing one of my <i>Spectators</i> lying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+by me, I laid it into one of the scales, and flung a
+twopenny piece in the other. The reader will not inquire
+into the event, if he remembers the first trial which I
+have recorded in this paper. I afterwards threw both
+the sexes into the balance; but as it is not for my
+interest to disoblige either of them, I shall desire to be
+excused from telling the result of this experiment.
+Having an opportunity of this nature in my hands, I
+could not forbear throwing into one scale the principles
+of a Tory, and in the other those of a Whig; but as I
+have all along declared this to be a neutral paper, I shall
+likewise desire to be silent under this head also, though
+upon examining one of the weights, I saw the word
+TEKEL engraven on it in capital letters.</p>
+
+<p>I made many other experiments, and though I have
+not room for them all in this day's speculation, I may
+perhaps reserve them for another. I shall only add,
+that upon my awaking I was sorry to find my golden
+scales vanished, but resolved for the future to learn this
+lesson from them, not to despise or value any things for
+their appearances, but to regulate my esteem and passions
+towards them according to their real and intrinsic value.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 410px;">
+<p><i>It must be so</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>Plato, thou reasonest well!</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<i>Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,<br />
+This longing after immortality?<br />
+Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,<br />
+Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul<br />
+Back on herself, and startles at destruction?<br />
+'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;<br />
+'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,<br />
+And intimates eternity to man.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 12em"><i>From Cato.</i></span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Addison</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xvi" id="xvi"></a><a href="#anchor_xvi">XVI</a>. MISJUDGED HOSPITALITY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Jonathan Swift</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1667-1745.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Tatler</span>, March 6, 1711.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 320px;">
+<p><i>Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes<br />
+Emollit mores.</i><span style="padding-left: 8.5em;" class="smcap">Ovid</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Those</span> inferior duties of life which the French call
+<i>les petites morales</i>, or the smaller morals, are with us
+distinguished by the name of good manners or breeding.
+This I look upon, in the general notion of it, to be a
+sort of artificial good sense, adapted to the meanest
+capacities, and introduced to make mankind easy in
+their commerce with each other. Low and little understandings,
+without some rules of this kind, would be
+perpetually wandering into a thousand indecencies and
+irregularities in behavior; and in their ordinary conversation,
+fall into the same boisterous familiarities that
+one observeth amongst them when a debauch hath quite
+taken away the use of their reason. In other instances,
+it is odd to consider, that for want of common discretion,
+the very end of good breeding is wholly perverted; and
+civility, intended to make us easy, is employed in laying
+chains and fetters upon us, in debarring us of our wishes,
+and in crossing our most reasonable desires and inclinations.
+This abuse reigneth chiefly in the country, as I
+found to my vexation, when I was last there, in a visit I
+made to a neighbor about two miles from my cousin.
+As soon as I entered the parlor, they put me into the
+great chair that stood close by a huge fire, and kept me
+there by force, until I was almost stifled. Then a boy
+came in great hurry to pull off my boots, which I in
+vain opposed, urging that I must return soon after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+dinner. In the meantime, the good lady whispered her
+eldest daughter, and slipped a key into her hand. The
+girl returned instantly with a beer-glass half full of <i>aqua
+mirabilis</i> and syrup of gillyflowers. I took as much as
+I had a mind for; but madam avowed I should drink it
+off<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for she was sure it would do me good, after coming
+out of the cold air<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and I was forced to obey; which
+absolutely took away my stomach. When dinner came
+in, I had a mind to sit at a distance from the fire; but
+they told me it was as much as my life was worth, and
+set me with my back just against it. Although my
+appetite was quite gone, I resolved to force down as
+much as I could; and desired the leg of a pullet. "Indeed,
+Mr. Bickerstaff," says the lady, "you must eat a
+wing, to oblige me;" and so put a couple upon my plate.
+I was persecuted at this rate during the whole meal. As
+often as I called for small-beer, the master tipped the
+wink, and the servant brought me a brimmer of October.
+Some time after dinner, I ordered my cousin's man, who
+came with me, to get ready the horses; but it was resolved
+I should not stir that night; and when I seemed pretty
+much bent upon going, they ordered the stable door to
+be locked; and the children hid my cloak and boots.
+The next question was, what I would have for supper.
+I said I never ate anything at night; but was at last, in
+my own defence, obliged to name the first thing that
+came into my head. After three hours spent chiefly in
+apologies for my entertainment, insinuating to me, "that
+this was the worst time of the year for provisions; that
+they were at a great distance from any market; that
+they were afraid I should be starved; and that they
+knew they kept me to my loss," the lady went, and left
+me to her husband<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for they took special care I should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+never be alone. As soon as her back was turned, the
+little misses ran backward and forward every moment;
+and constantly as they came in, or went out, made a
+courtesy directly at me, which, in good manners, I was
+forced to return with a bow, and, "Your humble servant,
+pretty miss." Exactly at eight the mother came up,
+and discovered by the redness of her face that supper
+was not far off. It was twice as large as the dinner, and
+my persecution doubled in proportion. I desired, at my
+usual hour, to go to my repose, and was conducted to my
+chamber by the gentleman, his lady, and the whole train
+of children. They importuned me to drink something
+before I went to bed; and upon my refusing, at last left
+a bottle of <i>stingo</i>, as they called it, for fear I should wake
+and be thirsty in the night. I was forced in the morning
+to rise and dress myself in the dark, because they would
+not suffer my kinsman's servant to disturb me at the
+hour I desired to be called. I was now resolved to
+break through all measures to get away; and after
+sitting down to a monstrous breakfast of cold beef,
+mutton, neats' tongues, venison-pasty, and stale-beer,
+took leave of the family. But the gentleman would
+needs see me part of my way, and carry me a short-cut
+through his own grounds, which he told me would save
+half a mile's riding. This last piece of civility had like
+to have cost me dear, being once or twice in danger
+of my neck, by leaping over his ditches, and at last
+forced to alight in the dirt; when my horse, having
+slipped his bridle, ran away, and took us up more than
+an hour to recover him again. It is evident that none of
+the absurdities I met with in this visit proceeded from
+an ill intention, but from a wrong judgment of complaisance,
+and a misapplication in the rules of it.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xvii" id="xvii"></a><a href="#anchor_xvii">XVII</a>. FROM THE "ESSAY ON MAN."<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Alexander Pope</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1688-1744.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 440px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Heaven</span> from all creatures hides the book of fate,<br />
+All but the page prescrib'd, their present state;<br />
+From brutes what men, from men what spirits know;<br />
+Or who could suffer being here below?<br />
+The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,<br />
+Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?<br />
+Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flowery food,<br />
+And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.<br />
+O blindness to the future! kindly given,<br />
+That each may fill the circle mark'd by heaven;<br />
+Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,<br />
+A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,<br />
+Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,<br />
+And now a bubble burst, and now a world.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;</span><br />
+Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore.<br />
+What future bliss he gives not thee to know,<br />
+But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.<br />
+Hope springs eternal in the human breast:<br />
+Man never is, but always to be, blest.<br />
+The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,<br />
+Rests and expatiates in a life to come.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind</span><br />
+Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;<br />
+His soul proud science never taught to stray<br />
+Far as the solar walk, or milky way;<br />
+Yet simple nature to his hope has given,<br />
+Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heaven;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>Some safer world in depth of woods embraced,<br />
+Some happier island in the watery waste,<br />
+Where slaves once more their native land behold,<br />
+No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.<br />
+To be, contents his natural desire;<br />
+He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire;<br />
+But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,<br />
+His faithful dog shall bear him company.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread,</span><br />
+Or hand, to toil, aspir'd to be the head?<br />
+What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd<br />
+To serve mere engines to the ruling mind?<br />
+Just as absurd for any part to claim<br />
+To be another, in this general frame;<br />
+Just as absurd to mourn the tasks or pains<br />
+The great directing Mind of All ordains.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">All are but parts of one stupendous whole,</span><br />
+Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;<br />
+That changed through all, and yet in all the same,<br />
+Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame,<br />
+Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,<br />
+Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;<br />
+Lives through all life, extends through all extent,<br />
+Spreads undivided, operates unspent;<br />
+Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,<br />
+As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;<br />
+As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,<br />
+As the rapt seraph that adores and burns:<br />
+To him no high, no low, no great, no small;<br />
+He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">All nature is but art unknown to thee;</span><br />
+All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;<br />
+All discord, harmony not understood;<br />
+All partial evil, universal good:<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,<br />
+One truth is clear, <i>Whatever is, is right</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,</span><br />
+As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;<br />
+Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,<br />
+We first endure, then pity, then embrace.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Virtuous and vicious every man must be,</span><br />
+Few in the extreme, but all in the degree:<br />
+The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise;<br />
+And even the best by fits what they despise.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,</span><br />
+Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw:<br />
+Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,<br />
+A little louder, but as empty quite:<br />
+Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,<br />
+And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age:<br />
+Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before,<br />
+Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Has God, thou fool! work'd solely for thy good</span><br />
+Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food?<br />
+Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,<br />
+For him as kindly spreads the flowery lawn.<br />
+Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings?<br />
+Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings.<br />
+Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat?<br />
+Loves of his own and raptures swell the note.<br />
+The bounding steed you pompously bestride<br />
+Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride.<br />
+Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain?<br />
+The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain.<br />
+Thine the full harvest of the golden year?<br />
+Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>The hog, that ploughs not, nor obeys thy call,<br />
+Lives on the labors of this lord of all.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Know, Nature's children all divide her care;</span><br />
+The fur that warms a monarch warm'd a bear.<br />
+While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!"<br />
+"See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose:<br />
+And just as short of reason he must fall,<br />
+Who thinks all made for one, not one for all.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">For forms of government let fools contest;</span><br />
+Whate'er is best administer'd is best:<br />
+For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;<br />
+His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.<br />
+In faith and hope the world will disagree,<br />
+But all mankind's concern is charity:<br />
+All must be false that thwart this one great end,<br />
+And all of God that bless mankind or mend.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Honor and shame from no condition rise;</span><br />
+Act well your part, there all the honor lies.<br />
+Fortune in men has some small difference made,<br />
+One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade;<br />
+The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd,<br />
+The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.<br />
+"What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl?"<br />
+I'll tell you, friend, a wise man and a fool.<br />
+You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,<br />
+Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk,<br />
+Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow;<br />
+The rest is all but leather or prunello.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Go! if your ancient but ignoble blood</span><br />
+Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood,<br />
+Go! and pretend your family is young,<br />
+Nor own your fathers have been fools so long.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?<br />
+Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,</span><br />
+Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.<br />
+Who noble ends by noble means obtains,<br />
+Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,<br />
+Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed<br />
+Like Socrates,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that man is great indeed.</p>
+
+<p>An honest man's the noblest work of God.</p>
+
+<p>Know then this truth (enough for man to know),<br />
+"Virtue alone is happiness below."</p>
+
+<p>... Never elated while one man's oppress'd;<br />
+Never dejected while another's bless'd....<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></p>
+
+<p>See the sole bliss heaven could on all bestow!<br />
+Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know:<br />
+Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,<br />
+The bad must miss, the good untaught will find:<br />
+Slave to no sect, who takes no private road,<br />
+But looks through nature up to nature's God;<br />
+Pursues that chain which links the immense design,<br />
+Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine:<br />
+Sees that no being any bliss can know,<br />
+But touches some above and some below;<br />
+Learns from this union of the rising whole,<br />
+The first, last purpose of the human soul;<br />
+And knows where faith, law, morals, all began,<br />
+All end, in love of God and love of man.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote" ><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> If the <i>Essay on Man</i> were shivered into fragments, it would not lose its
+value: for it is precisely its details which constitute its moral as well as literary
+beauties.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">A. W. Ward</span>, <i>quoted by</i> <span class="smcap">Mark Pattison</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> In these two lines, which, so far as I know, are the most complete, the most
+concise, and the most lofty expressions of moral temper existing in English
+words, Pope sums the law of noble life.</p>
+<p><span style="padding-left: 18em;">R</span><span class="smcap">uskin</span>, <i>Lectures on Art</i>.</p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="xviii" id="xviii"></a><a href="#anchor_xviii">XVIII</a>. RULE, BRITANNIA.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">James Thomson</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1700-1748.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 350px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Britain first, at Heaven's command,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">Arose from out the azure main,</span><br />
+This was the charter of the land,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">And guardian angels sang this strain:</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Britons never will be slaves!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The nations not so blest as thee,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall,</span><br />
+Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and free,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">The dread and envy of them all.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Britons never will be slaves!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Still more majestic shalt thou rise,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">More dreadful from each foreign stroke;</span><br />
+As the loud blast that tears the skies,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">Serves but to root thy native oak.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Britons never will be slaves!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">All their attempts to bend thee down</span><br />
+Will but arouse thy generous flame,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">But work their woe and thy renown.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Britons never will be slaves!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>To thee belongs the rural reign;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">Thy cities shall with commerce shine;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>All thine shall be the subject main,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">And every shore it circles thine.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Britons never will be slaves!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The Muses, still with freedom found,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">Shall to thy happy coast repair;</span><br />
+Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown'd,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em">And manly hearts to guard the fair.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em">Britons never will be slaves!</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xix" id="xix"></a><a href="#anchor_xix">XIX</a>. THE FIRST CRUSADE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">David Hume</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1711-1776.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">History of England</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">After</span> Mahomet had, by means of his pretended
+revelations, united the dispersed Arabians under one
+head, they issued forth from their deserts in great
+multitudes; and being animated with zeal for their new
+religion, and supported by the vigor of their new government,
+they made deep impression on the eastern empire,
+which was far in the decline, with regard both to military
+discipline and to civil policy. Jerusalem, by its situation,
+became one of their most early conquests; and the
+Christians had the mortification to see the holy sepulchre,
+and the other places, consecrated by the presence
+of their religious founder, fallen into the possession
+of infidels. But the Arabians or Saracens were so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+employed in military enterprises, by which they spread
+their empire in a few years from the banks of the
+Ganges to the Straits of Gibraltar, that they had no
+leisure for theological controversy: and though the
+Alcoran, the original monument of their faith, seems
+to contain some violent precepts, they were much less
+infected with the spirit of bigotry and persecution
+than the indolent and speculative Greeks, who were
+continually refining on the several articles of their religious
+system. They gave little disturbance to those
+zealous pilgrims, who daily flocked to Jerusalem; and
+they allowed every man, after paying a moderate tribute,
+to visit the holy sepulchre, to perform his religious
+duties, and to return in peace. But the Turcomans or
+Turks, a tribe of Tartars, who had embraced Mahometanism,
+having wrested Syria from the Saracens, and
+having, in the year 1065, made themselves masters of
+Jerusalem, rendered the pilgrimage much more difficult
+and dangerous to the Christians. The barbarity of their
+manners, and the confusions attending their unsettled
+government, exposed the pilgrims to many insults,
+robberies, and extortions: and these zealots, returning
+from their meritorious fatigues and sufferings, filled all
+Christendom with indignation against the infidels, who
+profaned the holy city by their presence, and derided
+the sacred mysteries in the very place of their completion.
+Gregory VII., among the other vast ideas
+which he entertained, had formed the design of uniting
+all the Western Christians against the Mahometans;
+but the egregious and violent invasions of that pontiff
+on the civil power of princes, had created him so many
+enemies, and had rendered his schemes so suspicious,
+that he was not able to make great progress in this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+undertaking. The work was reserved for a meaner
+instrument, whose low condition in life exposed him to
+no jealousy, and whose folly was well calculated to
+coincide with the prevailing principles of the times.</p>
+
+<p>Peter, commonly called the Hermit, a native of
+Amiens in Picardy, had made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
+Being deeply affected with the dangers to which
+that act of piety now exposed the pilgrims, as well as
+with the instances of oppression under which the Eastern
+Christians labored, he entertained the bold, and, in all
+appearance, impracticable project of leading into Asia,
+from the farthest extremities of the West, armies sufficient
+to subdue those potent and warlike nations which
+now held the holy city in subjection. He proposed his
+views to Martin II., who filled the papal chair, and who,
+though sensible of the advantages which the head of the
+Christian religion must reap from a religious war, and
+though he esteemed the blind zeal of Peter a proper
+means for effecting the purpose, resolved not to interpose
+his authority, till he saw a greater probability of success.
+He summoned a council at Placentia, which consisted of
+four thousand ecclesiastics, and thirty thousand seculars;
+and which was so numerous that no hall could contain
+the multitude, and it was necessary to hold the assembly
+in a plain. The harangues of the Pope, and of Peter himself,
+representing the dismal situation of their brethren
+in the East, and the indignity suffered by the Christian
+name, in allowing the holy city to remain in the hands
+of infidels, here found the minds of men so well prepared,
+that the whole multitude suddenly and violently declared
+for the war, and solemnly devoted themselves to perform
+this service, so meritorious, as they believed it, to God
+and religion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But though Italy seemed thus to have zealously embraced
+the enterprise, Martin knew, that, in order to
+insure success, it was necessary to enlist the greater and
+more warlike nations in the same engagement; and
+having previously exhorted Peter to visit the chief cities
+and sovereigns of Christendom, he summoned another
+council at Clermont in Auvergne. The fame of this
+great and pious design being now universally diffused,
+procured the attendance of the greatest prelates, nobles,
+and princes; and when the Pope and the Hermit renewed
+their pathetic exhortations, the whole assembly, as if
+impelled by an immediate inspiration, not moved by
+their preceding impressions, exclaimed with one voice, <i>It
+is the will of God, It is the will of God!</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>words deemed
+so memorable, and so much the result of a divine influence,
+that they were employed as the signal of rendezvous
+and battle in all the future exploits of those adventurers.
+Men of all ranks flew to arms with the utmost ardor;
+and an exterior symbol, too, a circumstance of chief
+moment, was here chosen by the devoted combatants.
+The sign of the cross, which had been hitherto so much
+revered among Christians, and which, the more it was an
+object of reproach among the Pagan world, was the more
+passionately cherished by them, became the badge of
+union, and was affixed to their right shoulder, by all who
+enlisted themselves in this sacred warfare.</p>
+
+<p>Europe was at this time sunk into profound ignorance
+and superstition. The ecclesiastics had acquired the
+greatest ascendant over the human mind: the people,
+who, being little restrained by honor, and less by law,
+abandoned themselves to the worst crimes and disorders,
+knew of no other expiation than the observances imposed
+on them by their spiritual pastors: and it was easy to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+represent the holy war as an equivalent for all penances,
+and an atonement for every violation of justice and
+humanity. But amidst the abject superstition which
+now prevailed, the military spirit also had universally
+diffused itself; and though not supported by art or
+discipline, was become the general passion of the nations
+governed by the feudal law. All the great lords possessed
+the right of peace and war: they were engaged
+in perpetual hostilities with each other: the open country
+was become a scene of outrage and disorder: the cities,
+still mean and poor, were neither guarded by walls nor
+protected by privileges, and were exposed to every
+insult: individuals were obliged to depend for safety on
+their own force, or their private alliances: and valor was
+the only excellence which was held in esteem, or gave
+one man the pre-eminence above another. When all the
+particular superstitions, therefore, were here united in
+one great object, the ardor for military enterprises took
+the same direction; and Europe, impelled by its two
+ruling passions, was loosened, as it were, from its foundations,
+and seemed to precipitate itself in one united
+body upon the East.</p>
+
+<p>All orders of men, deeming the Crusades the only
+road to heaven, enlisted themselves under these sacred
+banners, and were impatient to open the way with their
+sword to the holy city. Nobles, artisans, peasants, even
+priests, enrolled their names; and to decline this meritorious
+service was branded with the reproach of impiety,
+or, what perhaps was esteemed still more disgraceful, of
+cowardice and pusillanimity. The infirm and aged contributed
+to the expedition by presents and money; and
+many of them, not satisfied with the merit of this atonement,
+attended it in person, and were determined, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+possible, to breathe their last in sight of that city where
+their Saviour had died for them. Women themselves,
+concealing their sex under the disguise of armor, attended
+the camp. The greatest criminals were forward in a
+service, which they regarded as a propitiation for all
+crimes; and the most enormous disorders were, during
+the course of those expeditions, committed by men
+enured to wickedness, encouraged by example, and
+impelled by necessity. The multitude of the adventurers
+soon became so great, that their more sagacious leaders,
+Hugh count of Vermandois, brother to the French
+king, Raymond count of Toulouse, Godfrey of Bouillon,
+prince of Brabant, and Stephen count of Blois, became
+apprehensive lest the greatness itself of the armament
+should disappoint its purpose; and they permitted an
+undisciplined multitude, computed at 300,000 men, to go
+before them, under the command of Peter the Hermit
+and Walter the Moneyless. These men took the road
+towards Constantinople through Hungary and Bulgaria;
+and trusting that Heaven, by supernatural assistance,
+would supply all their necessities, they made no provision
+for subsistance on their march. They soon found themselves
+obliged to obtain by plunder, what they had
+vainly expected from miracles; and the enraged inhabitants
+of the countries through which they passed,
+gathering together in arms, attacked the disorderly
+multitude and put them to slaughter without resistance.
+The more disciplined armies followed after; and passing
+the straights at Constantinople, they were mustered in
+the plains of Asia, and amounted in the whole to the
+number of 700,000 combatants....</p>
+
+<p>After the adventurers in the holy war were assembled
+on the banks of the Bosphorus, opposite to Constant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>inople,
+they proceeded on their enterprise; but immediately
+experienced those difficulties which their zeal had
+hitherto concealed from them, and for which, even if
+they had foreseen them, it would have been almost
+impossible to provide a remedy. The Greek emperor,
+Alexis Comnenus, who had applied to the Western
+Christians for succor against the Turks, entertained
+hopes, and those but feeble ones, of obtaining such a
+moderate supply, as, acting under his command, might
+enable him to repulse the enemy: but he was extremely
+astonished to see his dominions overwhelmed, on a
+sudden, by such an inundation of licentious barbarians,
+who, though they pretended friendship, despised his
+subjects as unwarlike, and detested them as heretical.
+By all the arts of policy, in which he excelled, he
+endeavored to divert the torrent; but while he employed
+professions, caresses, civilities, and seeming services
+towards the leaders of the crusade, he secretly regarded
+those imperious allies as more dangerous than the open
+enemies by whom his empire had been formerly invaded.
+Having effected that difficult point of disembarking
+them safely in Asia, he entered into a private correspondence
+with Soliman, emperor of the Turks; and
+practised every insidious art, which his genius, his power,
+or his situation, enabled him to employ, for disappointing
+the enterprise, and discouraging the Latins from making
+thenceforward any such prodigious migrations. His
+dangerous policy was seconded by the disorders inseparable
+from so vast a multitude, who were not united under
+one head, and were conducted by leaders of the most
+independent intractable spirit, unacquainted with military
+discipline, and determined enemies to civil authority and
+submission. The scarcity of provisions, the excesses of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+fatigue, the influence of unknown climates, joined to the
+want of concert in their operations, and to the sword of
+a warlike enemy, destroyed the adventurers by thousands,
+and would have abated the ardor of men impelled to war
+by less powerful motives. Their zeal, however, their
+bravery, and their irresistible force, still carried them
+forward, and continually advanced them to the great end
+of their enterprise. After an obstinate siege they took
+Nice, the seat of the Turkish empire; they defeated
+Soliman in two great battles; they made themselves
+masters of Antioch; and entirely broke the force of the
+Turks, who had so long retained those countries in
+subjection. The soldan of Egypt, whose alliance they
+had hitherto courted, recovered, on the fall of the Turkish
+power, his former authority in Jerusalem; and he informed
+them by his ambassadors, that if they came
+disarmed to that city, they might now perform their
+religious vows, and that all Christian pilgrims, who
+should thenceforth visit the holy sepulchre, might expect
+the same good treatment which they had ever received
+from his predecessors. The offer was rejected; the
+soldan was required to yield up the city to the Christians;
+and on his refusal, the champions of the cross advanced
+to the siege of Jerusalem, which they regarded as the
+consummation of their labors. By the detachments
+which they had made, and the disasters which they had
+undergone, they were diminished to the number of
+twenty thousand foot, and fifteen hundred horse; but
+these were still formidable, from their valor, their experience,
+and the obedience which, from past calamities,
+they had learned to pay to their leaders. After a siege of
+five weeks, they took Jerusalem by assault; and, impelled
+by a mixture of military and religious rage, they put the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+numerous garrison and inhabitants to the sword without
+distinction.</p>
+
+<p>Neither arms defended the valiant, nor submission
+the timorous: no age or sex was spared: infants on
+the breast were pierced by the same blow with their
+mothers, who implored for mercy: even a multitude to
+the number of ten thousand persons, who had surrendered
+themselves prisoners, and were promised quarter, were
+butchered in cold blood by those ferocious conquerors.
+The streets of Jerusalem were covered with dead bodies;
+and the triumphant warriors, after every enemy was
+subdued and slaughtered, immediately turned themselves,
+with the sentiments of humiliation and contrition, towards
+the holy sepulchre. They threw aside their arms,
+still streaming with blood: they advanced with reclined
+bodies, and naked feet and heads, to that sacred monument:
+they sang anthems to their Saviour, who had
+there purchased their salvation by his death and agony:
+and their devotion, enlivened by the presence of the
+place where he had suffered, so overcame their fury,
+that they dissolved in tears, and bore the appearance of
+every soft and tender sentiment. So inconsistent is
+human nature with itself! and so easily does the most
+effeminate superstition ally, both with the most heroic
+courage and with the fiercest barbarity!</p>
+
+<p>This great event happened on the fifth of July in the
+last year of the eleventh century. The Christian princes
+and nobles, after choosing Godfrey of Bouillon king of
+Jerusalem, began to settle themselves in their new conquests;
+while some of them returned to Europe, in order
+to enjoy at home that glory, which their valor had
+acquired them in this popular and meritorious enterprise.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xx" id="xx"></a><a href="#anchor_xx">XX</a>. THE BARD.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><i>A Pindaric Ode.</i><a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas Gray</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1716-1771.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 490px;">
+
+<p>I. <span style="font-size: smaller;">1.</span></p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">"Ruin</span> seize thee, ruthless King!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Confusion on thy banners wait;<br />
+Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They mock the air with idle state.</span><br />
+Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,<br />
+Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"</span><br />
+Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,</span><br />
+As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He wound with toilsome march his long array.</span><br />
+Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance:<br />
+"To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering lance.</p>
+
+<p>I. <span style="font-size: smaller;">2.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">On a rock, whose haughty brow</span><br />
+Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,<br />
+With haggard eyes the Poet stood;</span><br />
+(Loose his beard, and hoary hair<br />
+Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air),<br />
+And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,<br />
+Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,</span><br />
+Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!<br />
+O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;</span><br />
+Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,<br />
+To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.</p>
+
+<p>I. <span style="font-size: smaller;">3.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That hush'd the stormy main:</span><br />
+Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Mountains, ye mourn in vain</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Modred, whose magic song</span><br />
+Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,</span><br />
+Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale:<br />
+Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.</span><br />
+Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes,</span><br />
+Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Ye died amidst your dying country's cries</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+No more I weep. They do not sleep.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,</span><br />
+I see them sit; they linger yet,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Avengers of their native land:</span><br />
+With me in dreadful harmony they join,<br />
+And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.</p>
+
+<p>II. <span style="font-size: smaller;">1.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Weave the warp, and weave the woof,</span><br />
+The winding-sheet of Edward's race.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Give ample room, and verge enough</span><br />
+The characters of hell to trace.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+Mark the year, and mark the night,<br />
+When Severn shall re-echo with affright<br />
+The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring,<br />
+Shrieks of an agonizing king!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,</span><br />
+That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs</span><br />
+The scourge of heaven. What terrors round him wait!<br />
+Amazement in his van, with flight combin'd,<br />
+And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.</p>
+
+<p>II. <span style="font-size: smaller;">2.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Mighty victor, mighty lord!</span><br />
+Low on his funeral couch he lies!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">No pitying heart, no eye, afford</span><br />
+A tear to grace his obsequies.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Is the sable warrior fled?</span><br />
+Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.<br />
+The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born?<br />
+Gone to salute the rising morn.<br />
+Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">While proudly riding o'er the azure realm</span><br />
+In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;</span><br />
+Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway,<br />
+That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.</p>
+
+<p>II. <span style="font-size: smaller;">3.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Fill high the sparkling bowl,</span><br />
+The rich repast prepare;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:</span><br />
+Close by the regal chair<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Fell Thirst and Famine scowl</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+Heard ye the din of battle bray,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Lance to lance, and horse to horse?</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course,</span><br />
+And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,</span><br />
+With many a foul and midnight murder fed,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,</span><br />
+And spare the meek usurper's holy head.<br />
+Above, below, the rose of snow,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread:</span><br />
+The bristled boar in infant-gore<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Wallows beneath the thorny shade.</span><br />
+Now, brothers, bending o'er the accurs<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d loom,<br />
+Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.</p>
+
+<p>III. <span style="font-size: smaller;">1.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Edward, lo! to sudden fate<br />
+(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Half of thy heart we consecrate.<br />
+(The web is wove. The work is done.)</span><br />
+Stay, O stay! nor thus forlorn<br />
+Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn:<br />
+In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,<br />
+They melt, they vanish from my eyes.<br />
+But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?</span><br />
+Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!</span><br />
+No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.<br />
+All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!</p>
+
+<p>III. <span style="font-size: smaller;">2.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Girt with many a baron bold</span><br />
+Sublime their starry fronts they rear;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span><span style="padding-left: 2em;">And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old</span><br />
+In bearded majesty, appear.<br />
+In the midst a form divine!<br />
+Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;<br />
+Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,<br />
+Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.<br />
+What strings symphonious tremble in the air,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">What strains of vocal transport round her play.</span><br />
+Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.</span><br />
+Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings,<br />
+Waves in the eye of heaven her many-color'd wings.</p>
+
+<p>III. <span style="font-size: smaller;">3.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"The verse adorn again</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Fierce War, and faithful Love,</span><br />
+And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In buskin'd measures move</span><br />
+Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,<br />
+With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A voice, as of the cherub-choir,<br />
+Gales from blooming Eden bear;</span><br />
+And distant warblings lessen on my ear,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That lost in long futurity expire.</span><br />
+Fond impious man, thinks thou yon sanguine cloud,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?</span><br />
+To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And warms the nations with redoubled ray.</span><br />
+Enough for me: with joy I see<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The different doom our fates assign.</span><br />
+Be thine despair, and sceptred care;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To triumph, and to die, are mine."</span><br />
+He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height<br />
+Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> This ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward the First,
+when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the Bards that fell
+into his hands to be put to death.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Gray</span>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxi" id="xxi"></a><a href="#anchor_xxi">XXI</a>. ON AN ADDRESS TO THE THRONE CONCERNING AFFAIRS IN AMERICA.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4>HOUSE OF LORDS<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>November 18th, 1777.</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lord Chatham</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1708-1778.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">I rise</span>, my Lords, to declare my sentiments on this
+most solemn and serious subject. It has imposed a load
+upon my mind, which, I fear, nothing can remove, but
+which impels me to endeavor its alleviation, by a free
+and unreserved communication of my sentiments.</p>
+
+<p>In the first part of the address, I have the honor of
+heartily concurring with the noble Earl who moved it.
+No man feels sincerer joy than I do; none can offer more
+genuine congratulations on every accession of strength
+to the Protestant succession. I therefore join in every
+congratulation on the birth of another princess, and the
+happy recovery of her Majesty.</p>
+
+<p>But I must stop here. My courtly complaisance will
+carry me no farther. I will not join in congratulation
+on misfortune and disgrace. I cannot concur in a blind
+and servile address, which approves and endeavors to
+sanctify the monstrous measures which have heaped disgrace
+and misfortune upon us. This, my Lords, is a
+perilous and tremendous moment! It is not a time for
+adulation. The smoothness of flattery cannot now
+avail<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It
+is now necessary to instruct the Throne in the language
+of truth. We must dispel the illusion and the darkness
+which envelop it, and display, in its full danger and true
+colors, the ruin that is brought to our doors.</p>
+
+<p>This, my Lords, is our duty. It is the proper function
+of this noble assembly, sitting, as we do, upon our honors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+in this House, the hereditary council of the Crown.
+<i>Who</i> is the minister<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>where</i> is the minister, that has
+dared to suggest to the Throne the contrary, unconstitutional
+language this day delivered from it? The
+accustomed language from the Throne has been application
+to Parliament for advice, and a reliance on its
+constitutional advice and assistance. As it is the right
+of Parliament to give, so it is the duty of the Crown to
+ask it. But on this day, and in this extreme momentous
+exigency, no reliance is reposed on our constitutional
+counsels! no advice is asked from the sober and enlightened
+care of Parliament! but the Crown, from itself and
+by itself, declares an unalterable determination to pursue
+measures<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and what measures, my Lords? The measures
+that have produced the imminent perils that
+threaten us; the measures that have brought ruin to our
+doors.</p>
+
+<p>Can the minister of the day now presume to expect a
+continuance of support in this ruinous infatuation? Can
+Parliament be so dead to its dignity and its duty as to
+be thus deluded into the loss of the one and the violation
+of the other? To give an unlimited credit and support
+for the steady perseverance in measures not proposed for
+our parliamentary advice, but dictated and forced upon
+us<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in measures, I say, my Lords, which have reduced
+this late flourishing empire to ruin and contempt! "But
+yesterday, and England might have stood against the
+world: now none so poor to do her reverence." I use
+the words of a poet; but, though it be poetry, it is no
+fiction. It is a shameful truth, that not only the power
+and strength of this country are wasting away and expiring,
+but her well-earned glories, her true honor, and
+substantial dignity are sacrificed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>France, my Lords, has insulted you; she has encouraged
+and sustained America; and, whether America be
+wrong or right, the dignity of this country ought to
+spurn at the officious insult of French interference. The
+ministers and ambassadors of those who are called rebels
+and enemies are in Paris; in Paris they transact the
+reciprocal interests of America and France. Can there
+be a more mortifying insult? Can even our ministers
+sustain a more humiliating disgrace? Do they dare to
+resent it? Do they presume even to hint a vindication
+of their honor, and the dignity of the State, by requiring
+the dismission of the plenipotentiaries of America?
+Such is the degradation to which they have reduced the
+glories of England! The people whom they affect to
+call contemptible rebels, but whose growing power has
+at last obtained the name of enemies; the people with
+whom they have engaged this country in war, and
+against whom they now command our implicit support
+in every measure of desperate hostility<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>this people,
+despised as rebels, or acknowledged as enemies, are
+abetted against you, supplied with every military store,
+their interests consulted, and their ambassadors entertained,
+by your inveterate enemy! and our ministers dare
+not interpose with dignity or effect. Is this the honor
+of a great kingdom? Is this the indignant spirit of
+England, who "but yesterday" gave law to the house of
+Bourbon? My Lords, the dignity of nations demands
+a decisive conduct in a situation like this....</p>
+
+<p>My Lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation,
+where we can not act with success, nor suffer with honor,
+calls upon us to remonstrate in the strongest and loudest
+language of truth, to rescue the ear of majesty from the
+delusions which surround it. The desperate state of our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+arms abroad is in part known. No man thinks more
+highly of them than I do. I love and honor the English
+troops. I know their virtues and their valor. I know
+they can achieve anything except impossibilities; and I
+know that the conquest of English America <i>is an impossibility</i>.
+You cannot, I venture to say it, <i>you cannot</i>
+conquer America. Your armies in the last war effected
+everything that could be effected; and what was it? It
+cost a numerous army, under the command of a most
+able general [Lord Amherst], now a noble Lord in this
+House, a long and laborious campaign, to expel five
+thousand Frenchmen from French America. My Lords,
+<i>you cannot conquer America</i>. What is your present
+situation there? We do not know the worst; but we
+know that in three campaigns we have done nothing and
+suffered much. Besides the sufferings, perhaps <i>total loss</i>
+of the Northern force, the best appointed army that ever
+took the field, commanded by Sir William Howe, has
+retired from the American lines. <i>He was obliged</i> to
+relinquish his attempt, and with great delay and danger
+to adopt a new and distant plan of operations. We
+shall soon know, and in any event have reason to lament,
+what may have happened since. As to conquest, therefore,
+my Lords, I repeat, it is impossible. You may
+swell every expense and every effort still more extravagantly;
+pile and accumulate every assistance you can
+buy or borrow; traffic and barter with every little pitiful
+German prince that sells and sends his subjects to the
+shambles of a foreign prince; your efforts are forever
+vain and impotent<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>doubly so from this mercenary aid
+on which you rely; for it irritates, to an incurable
+resentment, the minds of your enemies, to overrun them
+with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling
+cruelty! If I were an American, as I am an Englishman,
+while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I
+never would lay down my arms<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>never<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>never<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>never.</p>
+
+<p>But, my Lords, who is the man, that, in addition to
+these disgraces and mischiefs of our army, has dared to
+authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and
+scalping-knife of the savage? to call into civilized alliance
+the wild and inhuman savage of the woods; to delegate
+to the merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights,
+and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our
+brethren? My Lords, these enormities cry aloud for
+redress and punishment. Unless thoroughly done away,
+it will be a stain on the national character. It is a violation
+of the Constitution. I believe it is against law.
+It is not the least of our national misfortunes that the
+strength and character of our army are thus impaired.
+Infected with the mercenary spirit of robbery and rapine,
+familiarized to the horrid scenes of savage cruelty, it can
+no longer boast of the noble and generous principles
+which dignify a soldier, no longer sympathize with the
+dignity of the royal banner, nor feel the pride, pomp, and
+circumstance of glorious war, "that make ambition
+virtue!" What makes ambition virtue?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the sense of
+honor. But is the sense of honor consistent with a spirit
+of plunder, or the practice of murder? Can it flow from
+mercenary motives, or can it prompt to cruel deeds?</p>
+
+<p>The independent views of America have been stated
+and asserted as the foundation of this address. My
+Lords, no man wishes for the due dependence of America
+on this country more than I do. To preserve it, and not
+confirm that state of independence into which your
+measures hitherto have driven them, is the object which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+we ought to unite in attaining. The Americans, contending
+for their rights against arbitrary exactions, I
+love and admire. It is the struggle of free and virtuous
+patriots. But, contending for independency and total
+disconnection from England, as an Englishman, I cannot
+wish them success; for in a due constitutional dependency,
+including the ancient supremacy of this country
+in regulating their commerce and navigation, consists
+the mutual happiness and prosperity both of England
+and America. She derived assistance and protection
+from us; and we reaped from her the most important
+advantages. She was, indeed, the fountain of our wealth,
+the nerve of our strength, the nursery and basis of our
+naval power. It is our duty, therefore, my Lords, if we
+wish to save our country, most seriously to endeavor the
+recovery of these most beneficial subjects; and in this
+perilous crisis, perhaps the present moment may be the
+only one in which we can hope for success. For in their
+negotiations with France, they have, or think they have,
+reason to complain; though it be notorious that they have
+received from that power important supplies and assistance
+of various kinds, yet it is certain they expected it
+in a more decisive and immediate degree. America is in
+ill humor with France; on some points they have not
+entirely answered her expectations. Let us wisely take
+advantage of every possible moment of reconciliation.
+Besides, the natural disposition of America herself still
+leans toward England; to the old habits of connection
+and mutual interest that united both countries. This
+<i>was</i> the established sentiment of all the continent; and
+still, my Lords, in the great and principal part, the sound
+part of America, this wise and affectionate disposition
+prevails. And there is a very considerable part of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+America yet sound<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the middle and the southern provinces.
+Some parts may be factious and blind to their
+true interests; but if we express a wise and benevolent
+disposition to communicate with them those immutable
+rights of nature and those constitutional liberties to
+which they are equally entitled with ourselves, by a
+conduct so just and humane we shall confirm the favorable
+and conciliate the adverse. I say, my Lords, the
+rights and liberties to which they are equally entitled
+with ourselves, <i>but no more</i>. I would participate to them
+every enjoyment and freedom which the colonizing
+subjects of a free state can possess, or wish to possess;
+and I do not see why they should not enjoy every fundamental
+right in their property, and every original
+substantial liberty, which Devonshire, or Surrey, or the
+county I live in, or any other county in England, can
+claim; reserving always, as the sacred right of the
+mother country, the due constitutional dependency of
+the colonies. The inherent supremacy of the state in
+regulating and protecting the navigation and commerce
+of all her subjects, is necessary for the mutual benefit
+and preservation of every part, to constitute and preserve
+the prosperous arrangement of the whole empire.</p>
+
+<p>The sound parts of America, of which I have spoken,
+must be sensible of these great truths and of their real
+interests. America is not in that state of desperate and
+contemptible rebellion which this country has been
+deluded to believe. It is not a wild and lawless banditti,
+who, having nothing to lose, might hope to snatch something
+from public convulsions. Many of their leaders
+and great men have a great stake in this great contest.
+The gentleman who conducts their armies, I am told, has
+an estate of four or five thousand pounds a year; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+when I consider these things, I cannot but lament the
+inconsiderate violence of our penal acts, our declaration
+of treason and rebellion, with all the fatal effects of
+attainder and confiscation.</p>
+
+<p>As to the disposition of foreign powers which is asserted
+[in the King's speech] to be pacific and friendly,
+let us judge, my Lords, rather by their actions and the
+nature of things than by interested assertions. The
+uniform assistance supplied to America by France suggests
+a different conclusion. The most important interests
+of France in aggrandizing and enriching herself
+with what she most wants, supplies of every naval store
+from America, must inspire her with different sentiments.
+The extraordinary preparations of the House of Bourbon,
+by land and by sea, from Dunkirk to the Straits, equally
+ready and willing to overwhelm these defenceless islands,
+should rouse us to a sense of their real disposition and
+our own danger. Not five thousand troops in England!
+hardly three thousand in Ireland! What can we oppose
+to the combined force of our enemies? Scarcely twenty
+ships of the line so fully or sufficiently manned, that
+any admiral's reputation would permit him to take the
+command of. The river of Lisbon in the possession of
+our enemies! The seas swept by American privateers!
+Our Channel trade torn to pieces by them! In this
+complicated crisis of danger, weakness at home, and
+calamity abroad, terrified and insulted by the neighboring
+powers, unable to act in America, or acting only to
+be destroyed, where is the man with the forehead to
+promise or hope for success in such a situation, or from
+perseverance in the measures that have driven us to it?
+Who has the forehead to do so? Where is that man?
+I should be glad to see his face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>You cannot <i>conciliate</i> America by your present measures.
+You cannot <i>subdue</i> her by your present or by
+any measures. What, then, can you do? You cannot
+conquer; you cannot gain; but you can <i>address</i>; you
+can lull the fears and anxieties of the moment into an
+ignorance of the danger that should produce them.
+But, my Lords, the time demands the language of truth.
+We must not now apply the flattering unction of servile
+compliance or blind complaisance. In a just and necessary
+war, to maintain the rights or honor of my country,
+I would strip the shirt from my back to support it. But
+in such a war as this, unjust in its principle, impracticable
+in its means, and ruinous in its consequences, I would
+not contribute a single effort nor a single shilling. I do
+not call for vengeance on the heads of those who have
+been guilty; I only recommend to them to make their
+retreat. Let them walk off; and let them make haste,
+or they may be assured that speedy and condign punishment
+will overtake them.</p>
+
+<p>My Lords, I have submitted to you, with the freedom
+and truth which I think my duty, my sentiments on your
+present awful situation. I have laid before you the ruin
+of your power, the disgrace of your reputation, the
+pollution of your discipline, the contamination of your
+morals, the complication of calamities, foreign and
+domestic, that overwhelm your sinking country. Your
+dearest interests, your own liberties, the Constitution
+itself totters to the foundation. All this disgraceful
+danger, this multitude of misery, is the monstrous offspring
+of this unnatural war. We have been deceived
+and deluded too long. Let us now stop short. This is
+the crisis<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the only crisis of time and situation, to give
+us a possibility of escape from the fatal effects of our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+delusions. But if, in an obstinate and infatuated perseverance
+in folly, we slavishly echo the peremptory words
+this day presented to us, nothing can save this devoted
+country from complete and final ruin. We madly rush
+into multiplied miseries, and "confusion worse confounded."</p>
+
+<p>Is it possible, can it be believed, that ministers are yet
+blind to this impending destruction? I did hope, that
+instead of this false and empty vanity, this overweening
+pride, engendering high conceits and presumptuous imaginations,
+ministers would have humbled themselves in
+their errors, would have confessed and retracted them,
+and by an active, though a late, repentance, have endeavored
+to redeem them. But, my Lords, since they
+had neither sagacity to foresee, nor justice nor humanity
+to shun these oppressive calamities<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>since not even severe
+experience can make them feel, nor the imminent
+ruin of their country awaken them from their stupefaction,
+the guardian care of Parliament must interpose. I
+shall, therefore, my Lords, propose to you an amendment
+of the address to his Majesty, to be inserted immediately
+after the two first paragraphs of congratulation on the
+birth of a princess, to recommend an immediate cessation
+of hostilities, and the commencement of a treaty to
+restore peace and liberty to America, strength and
+happiness to England, security and permanent prosperity
+to both countries. This, my Lords, is yet in our power;
+and let not the wisdom and justice of your Lordships
+neglect the happy, and, perhaps, the only opportunity.
+By the establishment of irrevocable law, founded on
+mutual rights, and ascertained by treaty, these glorious
+enjoyments may be firmly perpetuated. And let me
+repeat to your Lordships, that the strong bias of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+America, at least of the wise and sounder parts of it,
+naturally inclines to this happy and constitutional reconnection
+with you. Notwithstanding the temporary intrigues
+with France, we may still be assured of their
+ancient and confirmed partiality to us. America and
+France <i>cannot</i> be congenial.</p>
+
+<p>My Lords, to encourage and confirm that innate inclination
+to this country, founded on every principle of
+affection, as well as consideration of interest; to restore
+that favorable disposition into a permanent and powerful
+reunion with this country; to revive the mutual strength
+of the empire; again to awe the House of Bourbon,
+instead of meanly truckling, as our present calamities
+compel us, to every insult of French caprice and Spanish
+punctilio; to re-establish our commerce; to reassert our
+rights and our honor; to confirm our interests, and
+renew our glories forever<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a consummation most devoutly
+to be endeavored! and which, I trust, may yet
+arise from reconciliation with America<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I have the honor
+of submitting to you the following amendment, which I
+move to be inserted after the two first paragraphs of the
+address:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"And that this House does most humbly advise and
+supplicate his Majesty to be pleased to cause the most
+speedy and effectual measures to be taken for restoring
+peace in America; and that no time may be lost in
+proposing an immediate opening of a treaty for the final
+settlement of the tranquillity of these invaluable provinces,
+by a removal of the unhappy causes of this ruinous
+civil war, and by a just and adequate security
+against the return of the like calamities in times to
+come. And this House desire to offer the most dutiful
+assurances to his Majesty, that they will, in due time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+cheerfully co-operate with the magnanimity and tender
+goodness of his Majesty for the preservation of his
+people, by such explicit and most solemn declarations,
+and provisions of fundamental and irrevocable laws, as
+may be judged necessary for the ascertaining and fixing
+forever the respective rights of Great Britain and her
+colonies."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxii" id="xxii"></a><a href="#anchor_xxii">XXII</a>. FROM "THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD."</h2>
+
+<h4>THE FAMILY USE ART, WHICH IS OPPOSED WITH STILL<br />
+GREATER.</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Oliver Goldsmith</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1728-1774.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Whatever</span> might have been Sophia's sensations, the
+rest of the family was easily consoled for Mr. Burchell's
+absence by the company of our landlord, whose visits
+now became more frequent and longer. Though he
+had been disappointed in procuring my daughters the
+amusements of the town, as he designed, he took every
+opportunity of supplying them with those little recreations
+which our retirement would admit of. He usually came
+in the morning, and while my son and I followed our
+occupations abroad, he sat with the family at home, and
+amused them by describing the town, with every part of
+which he was particularly acquainted. He could repeat
+all the observations that were retailed in the atmosphere
+of the play-houses, and had all the good things of the
+high wits by rote long before they made their way into
+the jest-books. The intervals between conversation were
+employed in teaching my daughters piquet, or sometimes
+in setting my two little ones to box to make them <i>sharp</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+as he called it; but the hopes of having him for a son-in-law,
+in some measure blinded us to all his imperfections.
+It must be owned that my wife laid a thousand schemes
+to entrap him; or, to speak it more tenderly, used every
+art to magnify the merit of her daughter. If the cakes
+at tea ate short and crisp, they were made by Olivia: if
+the gooseberry wine was well knit, the gooseberries were
+of her gathering: it was her fingers that gave the pickles
+their peculiar green; and in the composition of a pudding,
+it was her judgment that mixed the ingredients. Then
+the poor woman would sometimes tell the 'squire, that
+she thought him and Olivia extremely of a size, and
+would bid both stand up to see which was tallest. These
+instances of cunning, which she thought impenetrable,
+yet which everybody saw through, were very pleasing to
+our benefactor, who gave every day some new proofs of
+his passion, which, though they had not risen to proposals
+of marriage, yet we thought fell but little short of it; and
+his slowness was attributed sometimes to native bashfulness,
+and sometimes to his fear of offending his uncle.
+An occurrence, however, which happened soon after, put
+it beyond a doubt that he designed to become one of
+our family; my wife even regarded it as an absolute
+promise.</p>
+
+<p>My wife and daughters happening to return a visit to
+neighbor Flamborough's, found that family had lately
+got their pictures drawn by a limner, who travelled the
+country, and took likenesses for fifteen shillings a head.
+As this family and ours had long a sort of rivalry in
+point of taste, our spirit took the alarm at this stolen
+march upon us, and notwithstanding all I could say,
+and I said much, it was resolved that we should have
+our pictures done too. Having, therefore, engaged the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+limner, for what could I do? our next deliberation was
+to shew the superiority of our taste in the attitudes. As
+for our neighbor's family, there were seven of them, and
+they were drawn with seven oranges, a thing quite out
+of taste, no variety in life, no composition in the world.
+We desired to have something in a brighter style, and
+after many debates, at length came to an unanimous
+resolution of being drawn together in one large historical
+family piece. This would be cheaper, since one frame
+would serve for all, and it would be infinitely more
+genteel; for all families of any taste were now drawn in
+the same manner. As we did not immediately recollect
+an historical subject to hit us, we were contented each
+with being drawn as independent historical figures. My
+wife desired to be represented as Venus, and the painter
+was desired not to be too frugal of his diamonds in her
+stomacher and hair. Her two little ones were to be as
+Cupids by her side, while I, with my gown and band,
+was to present her with my books on the Whistonian
+controversy. Olivia would be drawn as an Amazon,
+sitting upon a bank of flowers, dressed in a green Joseph
+richly laced with gold, and a whip in her hand. Sophia
+was to be a shepherdess, with as many sheep as the
+painter could put in for nothing; and Moses was to be
+dressed out with an hat and white feather. Our taste so
+much pleased the 'squire, that he insisted on being put
+in as one of the family, in the character of Alexander
+the Great, at Olivia's feet. This was considered by us
+all as an indication of his desire to be introduced into
+the family, nor could we refuse his request. The painter
+was therefore set to work, and as he wrought with
+assiduity and expedition, in less than four days the
+whole was completed. The piece was large, and it must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+be owned he did not spare his colors; for which my wife
+gave him great encomiums. We were all perfectly
+satisfied with his performance; but an unfortunate circumstance
+had not occurred till the picture was finished,
+which now struck us with dismay. It was so very large
+that we had no place in the house to fix it. How we
+all came to disregard so material a point is inconceivable;
+but certain it is, we had been all greatly remiss. The
+picture, therefore, instead of gratifying our vanity, as we
+hoped, leaned, in a most mortifying manner, against the
+kitchen wall, where the canvas was stretched and
+painted, much too large to be got through any of the
+doors, and the jest of all our neighbors. One compared
+it to Robinson Crusoe's long-boat, too large to be removed;
+another thought it more resembled a reel in a bottle;
+some wondered how it could be got out, but still more
+were amazed how it ever got in.</p>
+
+<p>But though it excited the ridicule of some, it effectually
+raised more malicious suggestions in many. The 'squire's
+portrait being found united with ours, was an honor too
+great to escape envy. Scandalous whispers began to
+circulate at our expense, and our tranquillity was continually
+disturbed by persons who came as friends to
+tell us what was said of us by enemies. These reports
+we always resented with becoming spirit; but scandal
+ever improves by opposition.</p>
+
+<p>We once again therefore entered into a consultation
+upon obviating the malice of our enemies, and at last
+came to a resolution which had too much cunning to
+give me entire satisfaction. It was this: as our principal
+object was to discover the honor of Mr. Thornhill's
+addresses, my wife undertook to sound him by pretending
+to ask his advice in the choice of an husband for her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+eldest daughter. If this was not found sufficient to
+induce him to a declaration, it was then resolved to
+terrify him with a rival. To this last step, however, I
+would by no means give my consent, till Olivia gave me
+the most solemn assurances that she would marry the
+person provided to rival him upon this occasion, if he
+did not prevent it, by taking her himself. Such was the
+scheme laid, which, though I did not strenuously oppose,
+I did not entirely approve.</p>
+
+<p>The next time, therefore, that Mr. Thornhill came to
+see us, my girls took care to be out of the way, in order
+to give their mamma an opportunity of putting her
+scheme in execution; but they only retired to the next
+room, whence they could overhear the whole conversation:
+my wife artfully introduced it, by observing, that one
+of the Miss Flamboroughs was like to have a very good
+match of it in Mr. Spanker. To this the 'squire assenting,
+she proceeded to remark, that they who had warm
+fortunes were always sure of getting good husbands:
+"But heaven help," continued she, "the girls that have
+none. What signifies beauty, Mr. Thornhill? or what
+signifies all the virtue, and all the qualifications in the
+world, in this age of self-interest? It is not, what is she?
+but, what has she? is all the cry."</p>
+
+<p>"Madam," returned he, "I highly approve the justice,
+as well as the novelty, of your remarks, and if I were a
+king, it should be otherwise. It should then, indeed, be
+fine times for the girls without fortunes: our two young
+ladies should be the first for whom I would provide."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, sir," returned my wife, "you are pleased to be
+facetious: but I wish I were a queen, and then I know
+where my eldest daughter should look for an husband.
+But now that you have put it into my head, seriously,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+Mr. Thornhill, can't you recommend me a proper husband
+for her? She is now nineteen years old, well grown and
+well educated, and, in my humble opinion, does not want
+for parts."</p>
+
+<p>"Madam," replied he, "if I were to choose, I would
+find out a person possessed of every accomplishment
+that can make an angel happy. One with prudence,
+fortune, taste, and sincerity; such, madam, would be, in
+my opinion, the proper husband." "Ay, sir," said she,
+"but do you know of any such person?"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"No, Madam,"
+returned he, "it is impossible to know any person that
+deserves to be her husband: she's too great a treasure
+for one man's possession: she's a goddess. Upon my
+soul, I speak what I think, she's an angel"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Ah, Mr.
+Thornhill, you only flatter my poor girl: but we have
+been thinking of marrying her to one of your tenants,
+whose mother is lately dead, and who wants a manager;
+you know whom I mean, farmer Williams; a warm man,
+Mr. Thornhill, able to give her good bread; and who has
+several times made her proposals:" (which was actually
+the case) "but, sir," concluded she, "I should be glad to
+have your approbation of our choice."<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"How, Madam,"
+replied he, "my approbation! My approbation of such
+a choice! Never. What! Sacrifice so much beauty
+and sense, and goodness, to a creature insensible of the
+blessing! Excuse me, I can never approve of such a
+piece of injustice! And I have my reasons!"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Indeed,
+sir," cried Deborah, "If you have your reasons, that's
+another affair; but I should be glad to know those
+reasons."<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Excuse me, madam," returned he, "they lie
+too deep for discovery;" (laying his hand upon his
+bosom) "they remain buried, rivetted here."</p>
+
+<p>After he was gone, upon general consultation, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+could not tell what to make of these fine sentiments.
+Olivia considered them as instances of the most exalted
+passion; but I was not quite so sanguine: yet, whatever
+they might portend, it was resolved to prosecute the
+scheme of farmer Williams, who, from my daughter's
+first appearance in the country, had paid her his
+addresses.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxiii" id="xxiii"></a><a href="#anchor_xxiii">XXIII</a>. MEETING OF JOHNSON WITH WILKES.</h2>
+
+<h4>(1776).</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">James Boswell</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1740-1795.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Life of Samuel Johnson, ll. d.</span></h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">I am</span> now to record a very curious incident in Dr.
+Johnson's life, which fell under my own observation; of
+which <i>pars magna fui</i>, and which I am persuaded will,
+with the liberal-minded, be much to his credit.</p>
+
+<p>My desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of
+every description had made me, much about the same
+time, obtain an introduction to Dr. Samuel Johnson and
+to John Wilkes, Esq. Two men more different could
+not perhaps be selected out of all mankind. They had
+even attacked one another with some asperity in their
+writings; yet I lived in habits of friendship with both.
+I could fully relish the excellence of each; for I have
+ever delighted in that intellectual chemistry, which can
+separate good qualities from evil in the same person.</p>
+
+<p>Sir John Pringle, "mine own friend and my father's
+friend," between whom and Dr. Johnson I in vain wished
+to establish an acquaintance, as I respected and lived in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+intimacy with both of them, observed to me once, very
+ingeniously, "It is not in friendship as in mathematics,
+where two things, each equal to a third, are equal between
+themselves. You agree with Johnson as a middle
+quality, and you agree with me as a middle quality; but
+Johnson and I should not agree." Sir John was not
+sufficiently flexible; so I desisted; knowing, indeed,
+that the repulsion was equally strong on the part of
+Johnson; who, I know not from what cause, unless his
+being a Scotchman, had formed a very erroneous opinion
+of Sir John. But I conceived an irresistible wish, if
+possible, to bring Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes together.
+How to manage it, was a nice and difficult matter.<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></p>
+
+<p>My worthy booksellers and friends, Messieurs Dilly in
+the Poultry, at whose hospitable and well-covered table
+I have seen a greater number of literary men than at
+any other, except that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, had invited
+me to meet Mr. Wilkes and some more gentlemen
+on Wednesday, May 15th. "Pray," said I, "let us have
+Dr. Johnson." "What, with Mr. Wilkes? not for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+world," said Mr. Edward Dilly: "Dr. Johnson would
+never forgive me." "Come," said I, "if you'll let me
+negotiate for you, I will be answerable that all shall go
+well." <i>Dilly.</i> "Nay, if you will take it upon you, I am
+sure I shall be very happy to see them both here."</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the high veneration which I entertained
+for Dr. Johnson, I was sensible that he was sometimes
+a little actuated by the spirit of contradiction, and
+by means of that I hoped I should gain my point. I
+was persuaded that if I had come upon him with a direct
+proposal, "Sir, will you dine in company with Jack
+Wilkes?" he would have flown into a passion, and would
+probably have answered, "Dine with Jack Wilkes, Sir!
+I'd as soon dine with Jack Ketch." I, therefore, while
+we were sitting quietly by ourselves at his house in an
+evening, took occasion to open my plan thus: "Mr.
+Dilly, Sir, sends his respectful compliments to you, and
+would be happy if you would do him the honor to dine
+with him on Wednesday next along with me, as I must
+soon go to Scotland." <i>Johnson.</i> "Sir, I am obliged to
+Mr. Dilly. I will wait upon him." <i>Boswell.</i> "Provided,
+Sir, I suppose, that the company which he is to have is
+agreeable to you?" <i>Johnson.</i> "What do you mean,
+Sir? What do you take me for? Do you think I am
+so ignorant of the world as to imagine that I am to
+prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at
+his table?" <i>Boswell.</i> "I beg your pardon, Sir, for
+wishing to prevent you from meeting people whom you
+might not like. Perhaps he may have some of what he
+calls his patriotic friends with him." <i>Johnson.</i> "Well,
+Sir, and what then? What care I for his <i>patriotic
+friends</i>? Poh!" <i>Boswell.</i> "I should not be surprised
+to find Jack Wilkes there." <i>Johnson.</i> "And if Jack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+Wilkes <i>should</i> be there, what is that to <i>me</i>, Sir? My
+dear friend, let us have no more of this. I am sorry to
+be angry with you; but really it is treating me strangely
+to talk to me as if I could not meet any company whatever,
+occasionally." <i>Boswell.</i> "Pray forgive me, Sir, I
+meant well. But you shall meet whoever comes, for
+me." Thus I secured him, and told Dilly that he would
+find him very well pleased to be one of his guests on the
+day appointed.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the much expected Wednesday, I called on him
+about half an hour before dinner, as I often did when we
+were to dine out together, to see that he was ready in
+time, and to accompany him. I found him buffeting his
+books, as upon a former occasion, covered with dust, and
+making no preparation for going abroad. "How is this,
+Sir?" said I. "Don't you recollect that you are to dine
+at Mr. Dilly's?" <i>Johnson.</i> "Sir, I did not think of
+going to Dilly's; it went out of my head. I have ordered
+dinner at home with Mrs. Williams." <i>Boswell.</i>
+"But, my dear Sir, you know you were engaged to Mr.
+Dilly, and I told him so. He will expect you, and will
+be much disappointed if you don't come." <i>Johnson.</i>
+"You must talk to Mrs Williams about this."</p>
+
+<p>Here was a sad dilemma. I feared that what I was
+so confident I had secured would yet be frustrated. He
+had accustomed himself to show Mrs. Williams such a
+degree of humane attention, as frequently imposed some
+restraint upon him; and I knew that if she should be
+obstinate, he would not stir. I hastened down stairs to
+the blind lady's room, and told her I was in great uneasiness,
+for Dr. Johnson had engaged to me to dine this
+day at Mr. Dilly's, but that he had told me he had forgotten
+his engagement, and had ordered dinner at home.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+"Yes, Sir," said she, pretty peevishly, "Dr. Johnson is to
+dine at home." "Madam," said I, "his respect for you is
+such, that I know he will not leave you, unless you
+absolutely desire it. But as you have so much of his
+company, I hope you will be good enough to forego it
+for a day, as Mr. Dilly is a very worthy man, has frequently
+had agreeable parties at his house for Dr.
+Johnson, and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him
+to-day. And then, Madam, be pleased to consider my
+situation; I carried the message, and I assured Mr.
+Dilly that Dr. Johnson was to come; and no doubt he
+has made a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted
+of the honor he expected to have. I shall be quite disgraced
+if the Doctor is not there." She gradually
+softened to my solicitations, which were certainly as earnest
+as most entreaties to ladies upon any occasion, and
+was graciously pleased to empower me to tell Dr. Johnson,
+"That all things considered, she thought he should
+certainly go." I flew back to him, still in dust, and
+careless of what should be the event, "indifferent in his
+choice to go or stay"; but as soon as I had announced
+to him Mrs. Williams's consent, he roared, "Frank, a
+clean shirt," and was very soon dressed. When I had
+him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, I exulted
+as much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into
+a post-chaise with him to set out for Gretna Green.</p>
+
+<p>When we entered Mr. Dilly's drawing room, he found
+himself in the midst of a company he did not know. I
+kept myself snug and silent, watching how he would conduct
+himself. I observed him whispering to Mr. Dilly,
+"Who is that gentleman, Sir?"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Mr. Arthur Lee."
+<i>Johnson.</i> "Too, too, too" (under his breath), which was
+one of his habitual mutterings. Mr. Arthur Lee could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+not but be very obnoxious to Johnson, for he was not
+only a <i>patriot</i>, but an <i>American</i>. He was afterwards
+minister from the United States at the court of Madrid.
+"And who is the gentleman in lace?"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Mr. Wilkes,
+Sir." This information confounded him still more; he
+had some difficulty to restrain himself, and, taking up a
+book, sat down upon a window-seat and read, or at least
+kept his eye upon it intently for some time, till he composed
+himself. His feelings, I dare say, were awkward
+enough. But he had no doubt recollected his having
+rated me for supposing that he could be at all disconcerted
+by any company, and he, therefore, resolutely set
+himself to behave quite as an easy man of the world,
+who could adapt himself at once to the disposition and
+manners of those whom he might chance to meet.</p>
+
+<p>The cheering sound of "Dinner is upon the table,"
+dissolved his reverie, and we <i>all</i> sat down without any
+symptoms of ill humor.... Mr. Wilkes placed himself
+next to Dr. Johnson, and behaved to him with so much
+attention and politeness, that he gained upon him insensibly.
+No man ate more heartily than Johnson, or
+loved better what was nice and delicate. Mr. Wilkes
+was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal.
+"Pray give me leave, Sir<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>It is better here<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>A little of
+the brown<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Some fat, Sir<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>A little of the stuffing<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Some
+gravy<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Let me have the pleasure of giving you
+some butter<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Allow me to recommend a squeeze of this
+orange; or the lemon, perhaps may have more zest"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Sir;
+sir, I am obliged to you, Sir," cried Johnson,
+bowing, and turning his head to him with a look for
+some time of "surly virtue," but, in a short while of
+complacency.</p>
+
+<p>Foote being mentioned, Johnson said, "He is not a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+good mimic." One of the company added, "A merry-andrew,
+a buffoon." <i>Johnson.</i> "But he has wit too, and
+is not deficient in ideas, or in fertility and variety
+of imagery, and not empty of reading; he has knowledge
+enough to fill up his part. One species of wit he
+has in an eminent degree, that of escape. You drive him
+into a corner with both hands; but he is gone, Sir, when
+you think you have got him<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>like an animal that jumps
+over your head. Then he has a great range for wit;
+he never lets truth stand between him and the jest, and
+he is sometimes mighty coarse. Garrick is under many
+restraints from which Foote is free." <i>Wilkes.</i> "Garrick's
+wit is more like Lord Chesterfield's." <i>Johnson.</i> "The
+first time I was in company with Foote was at
+Fitzherbert's. Having no good opinion of the fellow, I
+was resolved not to be pleased; and it is very difficult
+to please a man against his will. I went on eating my
+dinner pretty sullenly, affecting not to mind him. But
+the dog was so very comical, that I was obliged to lay
+down my knife and fork, throw myself back in my chair,
+and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir, he was irresistible. He
+upon one occasion experienced, in an extraordinary
+degree, the efficacy of his powers of entertaining.
+Amongst the many and various modes which he tried of
+getting money, he became a partner with a small-beer
+brewer, and he was to have a share of the profits for
+procuring customers amongst his numerous acquaintance.
+Fitzherbert was one who took his small-beer, but
+it was so bad that the servants resolved not to drink it.
+They were at some loss how to notify their resolution,
+being afraid of offending their master, who, they knew,
+liked Foote much as a companion. At last they fixed
+upon a little black boy, who was rather a favorite, to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+their deputy, and deliver their remonstrance; and, having
+invested him with the sole authority of the kitchen, he
+was to inform Mr. Fitzherbert, in all their names, upon a
+certain day, that they would drink Foote's small-beer no
+longer. On that day Foote happened to dine at Fitzherbert's,
+and this boy served at table; he was so
+delighted with Foote's stories, and merriment, and
+grimace, that when he went down stairs, he told them,
+'This is the finest man I have ever seen. I will not deliver
+your message. I will drink his small-beer.'"</p>
+
+<p>... Mr. Wilkes remarked, that "among all the bold
+flights of Shakespeare's imagination, the boldest was
+making Birnam-wood march to Dunsinane; creating a
+wood where there never was a shrub; a wood in Scotland!
+ha! ha! ha!" And he also observed, that "the
+clannish slavery of the Highlands of Scotland was the
+single exception to Milton's remark of 'the mountain
+nymph, sweet Liberty,' being worshipped in all hilly
+countries." "When I was at Inverary," said he, "on a
+visit to my old friend Archibald, Duke of Argyle, his
+dependents congratulated me on being such a favorite of
+his Grace. I said, 'It is, then, gentlemen, truly lucky
+for me; for if I had displeased the Duke, and he had
+wished it, there is not a Campbell among you but would
+have been ready to bring John Wilkes's head to him in
+a charger. It would have been only</p>
+
+<p class="center">"'Off with his head! so much for <i>Aylesbury</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>"I was then member for Aylesbury."</p>
+
+<p>... Mr. Arthur Lee mentioned some Scotch who had
+taken possession of a barren part of America, and
+wondered why they should choose it. <i>Johnson.</i> "Why,
+Sir, all barrenness is comparative. The <i>Scotch</i> would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+know it to be barren." <i>Boswell.</i> "Come, come, he is
+flattering the English. You have now been in Scotland,
+Sir, and say if you did not see meat and drink enough
+there." <i>Johnson.</i> "Why, yes, Sir; meat and drink
+enough to give the inhabitants sufficient strength to run
+away from home." All these quick and lively sallies
+were said sportively, quite in jest, and with a smile,
+which showed that he meant only wit. Upon this topic
+he and Mr. Wilkes could perfectly assimilate; here was
+a bond of union between them, and I was conscious that
+as both of them had visited Caledonia, both were fully
+satisfied of the strange narrow ignorance of those who
+imagine that it is a land of famine. But they amused
+themselves with persevering in the old jokes. When I
+claimed a superiority for Scotland over England in one
+respect, that no man can be arrested there for a debt
+merely because another swears it against him; but there
+must first be the judgment of a court of law ascertaining
+its justice; and that a seizure of the person, before
+judgment is obtained, can take place only if his creditor
+should swear that he is about to fly from the country, or,
+as it is technically expressed, is <i>in meditatione fug</i><ins class="translit" title="ae ligature"><i>&#230;</i></ins>;<ins class="translit" title="em dash"><i>&#8212;</i></ins><i>Wilkes.</i>
+"That, I should think, may be safely sworn of
+all the Scotch nation." <i>Johnson</i> (to Mr. Wilkes). "You
+must know, Sir, I lately took my friend Boswell, and
+showed him genuine civilized life in an English provincial
+town. I turned him loose at Lichfield, my native
+city, that he might see for once real civility; for you
+know he lives among savages in Scotland and among
+rakes in London." <i>Wilkes.</i> "Except when he is with
+grave, sober, decent people, like you and me." <i>Johnson</i>
+(smiling). "And we ashamed of him."</p>
+
+<p>... This record, though by no means so perfect as I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+could wish, will serve to give a notion of a very curious
+interview, which was not only pleasing at the time, but
+had the agreeable and benignant effect of reconciling
+any animosity, and sweetening any acidity, which, in the
+various bustle of political contest, had been produced in
+the minds of two men, who, though widely different, had
+so many things in common<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>classical learning, modern
+literature, wit and humor, and ready repartee<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that it
+would have been much to be regretted if they had been
+forever at a distance from each other.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burke gave me much credit for this successful
+<i>negotiation</i>; and pleasantly said, "that there was nothing
+equal to it in the whole history of the <i>corps diplomatique</i>."</p>
+
+<p>I attended Dr. Johnson home, and had the satisfaction
+to hear him tell Mrs. Williams how much he had been
+pleased with Mr. Wilkes's company, and what an agreeable
+day he had passed.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Johnson's dislike of Mr. Wilkes was so great that it extended even to his
+connections. He happened to dine one day at Sir Joshua Reynolds's with a
+large and distinguished company, amongst whom were Mr. Wilkes's brother,
+Israel, and his lady. In the course of conversation, Mr. Israel Wilkes was
+about to make some remark, when Johnson suddenly stopped him with, "I
+hope, sir, what you are going to say may be better worth hearing than what
+you have already said." This rudeness shocked and spread a gloom over the
+whole party, particularly as Mr. Israel Wilkes was a gentleman of a very
+amiable character and of refined taste, and, what Dr. Johnson little suspected,
+a very loyal subject. Johnson afterwards owned to me that he was very sorry
+that he had "<i>snubbed</i> Wilkes, as his wife was present." I replied, that he
+should be sorry for many reasons. "No," said Johnson, who was very reluctant
+to apologize for offences of this nature; "no, I only regret it because his
+wife was by." I believe that he had no kind of motive for this incivility to Mr.
+Israel Wilkes but disgust at his brother's political principles.
+</p>
+<p><span class="smcap" style="padding-left: 17em;">Miss Reynolds's Recollections</span></p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxiv" id="xxiv"></a><a href="#anchor_xxiv">XXIV</a>. THE POLICY OF THE EMPIRE IN THE FIRST CENTURY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Edward Gibbon</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1737-1794.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the second century of the Christian era, the empire
+of Rome comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and
+the most civilized portion of mankind. The frontiers of
+that extensive monarchy were guarded by ancient renown
+and disciplined valor. The gentle but powerful
+influence of laws and manners had gradually cemented
+the union of the provinces. Their peaceful inhabitants<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+enjoyed and abused the advantages of wealth and luxury.
+The image of a free constitution was preserved with
+decent reverence: the Roman senate appeared to possess
+the sovereign authority, and devolved on the emperors
+all the executive powers of government. During a
+happy period of more than fourscore years, the public
+administration was conducted by the virtue and abilities
+of Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and the two Antonines.</p>
+
+<p>The principal conquests of the Romans were achieved
+under the republic; and the emperors, for the most part,
+were satisfied with preserving those dominions which
+had been acquired by the policy of the senate, the
+active emulation of the consuls, and the martial enthusiasm
+of the people. The seven first centuries were
+filled with a rapid succession of triumphs; but it was
+reserved for Augustus to relinquish the ambitious design
+of subduing the whole earth, and to introduce a spirit
+of moderation into the public councils. Inclined to
+peace by his temper and situation, it was easy for him
+to discover that Rome, in her present exalted situation,
+had much less to hope than to fear from the chance of
+arms; and that, in the prosecution of remote wars, the
+undertaking became every day more difficult, the event
+more doubtful, and the possession more precarious and
+less beneficial. The experience of Augustus added
+weight to these salutary reflections, and effectually convinced
+him that, by the prudent vigor of his counsels, it
+would be easy to secure every concession which the
+safety or the dignity of Rome might require from the
+most formidable barbarians. Instead of exposing his
+person and his legions to the arrows of the Parthians, he
+obtained, by an honorable treaty, the restitution of the
+standards and prisoners which had been taken in the
+defeat of Crassus.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His generals, in the early part of his reign, attempted
+the reduction of <ins class="translit" title="AE ligature">&#198;</ins>thiopia and Arabia Felix. They
+marched near a thousand miles to the south of the
+tropic; but the heat of the climate soon repelled the invaders,
+and protected the unwarlike natives of those
+sequestered regions. The northern countries of Europe
+scarcely deserved the expense and labor of conquest.
+The forests and morasses of Germany were filled with a
+hardy race of barbarians, who despised life when it was
+separated from freedom; and though, on the first attack,
+they seemed to yield to the weight of the Roman power,
+they soon, by a signal act of despair, regained their
+independence, and reminded Augustus of the vicissitude
+of fortune. On the death of that emperor, his testament
+was publicly read in the senate. He bequeathed, as a
+valuable legacy to his successors, the advice of confining
+the empire within those limits which nature seemed to
+have placed as its permanent bulwarks and boundaries:
+on the west the Atlantic Ocean; the Rhine and Danube
+on the north; the Euphrates on the east; and towards
+the south, the sandy deserts of Arabia and Africa.</p>
+
+<p>Happily for the repose of mankind, the moderate system
+recommended by the wisdom of Augustus was
+adopted by the fears and vices of his immediate successors.
+Engaged in the pursuit of pleasure, or in the
+exercise of tyranny, the first C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sars seldom showed themselves
+to the armies or to the provinces; nor were they
+disposed to suffer that those triumphs which <i>their</i> indolence
+neglected should be usurped by the conduct and
+valor of their lieutenants. The military fame of a subject
+was considered as an insolent invasion of the imperial
+prerogative; and it became the duty, as well as interest,
+of every Roman general to guard the frontiers intrusted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+to his care, without aspiring to conquests which might
+have proved no less fatal to himself than to the vanquished
+barbarians.</p>
+
+<p>The only accession which the Roman empire received
+during the first century of the Christian era was the
+province of Britain. In this single instance the successors
+of C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sar and Augustus were persuaded to follow
+the example of the former, rather than the precept of
+the latter. The proximity of its situation to the coast
+of Gaul seemed to invite their arms; the pleasing,
+though doubtful, intelligence of a pearl-fishery attracted
+their avarice; and as Britain was viewed in the light of
+a distinct and insulated world, the conquest scarcely
+formed any exception to the general system of continental
+measures. After a war of about forty years,
+undertaken by the most stupid, maintained by the most
+dissolute, and terminated by the most timid of all the
+emperors, the far greater part of the island submitted to
+the Roman yoke. The various tribes of Britons possessed
+valor without conduct, and the love of freedom
+without the spirit of union. They took up arms with
+savage fierceness; they laid them down, or turned them
+against each other, with wild inconstancy; and while
+they fought singly, they were successively subdued.
+Neither the fortitude of Caractacus, nor the despair of
+Boadicea, nor the fanaticism of the Druids, could avert
+the slavery of their country, or resist the steady progress
+of the imperial generals, who maintained the national
+glory, when the throne was disgraced by the weakest or
+the most vicious of mankind. At the very time when
+Domitian, confined to his palace, felt the terrors which
+he inspired, his legions, under the command of the virtuous
+Agricola, defeated the collected force of the Cale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>donians
+at the foot of the Grampian hills; and his fleets,
+venturing to explore an unknown and dangerous navigation,
+displayed the Roman arms round every part of the
+island. The conquest of Britain was considered as already
+achieved; and it was the design of Agricola to
+complete and insure his success by the easy reduction of
+Ireland, for which, in his opinion, one legion and a few
+auxiliaries were sufficient. The western isle might be
+improved into a valuable possession, and the Britons
+would wear their chains with the less reluctance, if the
+prospect and example of freedom was on every side removed
+from before their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>But the superior merit of Agricola soon occasioned his
+removal from the government of Britain; and forever
+disappointed this rational, though extensive, scheme of
+conquest. Before his departure the prudent general had
+provided for security as well as for dominion. He had
+observed that the island is almost divided into two unequal
+parts by the opposite gulfs, or, as they are now called, the
+Friths of Scotland. Across the narrow interval of about
+forty miles he had drawn a line of military stations,
+which was afterwards fortified, in the reign of Antoninus
+Pius, by a turf rampart, erected on foundations of stone.
+This wall of Antoninus, at a small distance beyond the
+modern cities of Edinburgh and Glasgow, was fixed as
+the limit of the Roman province. The native Caledonians
+preserved, in the northern extremity of the
+island, their wild independence, for which they were not
+less indebted to their poverty than to their valor. Their
+incursions were frequently repelled and chastised, but
+their country was never subdued. The masters of the
+fairest and most wealthy climates of the globe turned
+with contempt from gloomy hills assailed by the winter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+tempest, from lakes concealed in a blue mist, and from
+cold and lonely heaths, over which the deer of the forest
+were chased by a troop of naked barbarians.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the state of the Roman frontiers, and such
+the maxims of imperial policy, from the death of Augustus
+to the accession of Trajan.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxv" id="xxv"></a><a href="#anchor_xxv">XXV</a>. ON THE ATTACKS UPON HIS PENSION.<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Edmund Burke</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1729-1797.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> one thing I can excuse the Duke of Bedford for his
+attack upon me and my mortuary pension: He cannot
+readily comprehend the transaction he condemns. What
+I have obtained was the fruit of no bargain, the production
+of no intrigue, the result of no compromise, the effect
+of no solicitation. The first suggestion of it never came
+from me, mediately or immediately, to his Majesty or
+any of his ministers. It was long known that the instant
+my engagements would permit it, and before the
+heaviest of all calamities had forever condemned me to
+obscurity and sorrow, I had resolved on a total retreat.
+I had executed that design. I was entirely out of the
+way of serving or of hurting any statesman or any
+party, when the ministers so generously and so nobly
+carried into effect the spontaneous bounty of the crown.
+Both descriptions have acted as became them. When I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+could no longer serve them, the ministers have considered
+my situation. When I could no longer hurt them, the
+revolutionists have trampled on my infirmity. My
+gratitude, I trust, is equal to the manner in which the
+benefit was conferred. It came to me, indeed, at a time
+of life, and in a state of mind and body, in which no
+circumstance of fortune could afford me any real pleasure.
+But this was no fault in the royal donor, or in his
+ministers, who were pleased, in acknowledging the merits
+of an invalid servant of the public, to assuage the sorrows
+of a desolate old man....</p>
+
+<p>I was not like his Grace of Bedford, swaddled, and
+rocked, and dandled into a legislator: "<i>Nitor in adversum</i>"
+is the motto for a man like me. I possessed not one of
+the qualities, nor cultivated one of the arts, that recommend
+men to the favor and protection of the great. I
+was not made for a minion or a tool. As little did I
+follow the trade of winning the hearts by imposing on
+the understandings of the people. At every step of my
+progress in life<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for in every step was I traversed and
+opposed<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and at every turnpike I met, I was obliged to
+shew my passport, and again and again to prove my sole
+title to the honor of being useful to my country, by a
+proof that I was not wholly unacquainted with its laws,
+and the whole system of its interests both abroad and at
+home. Otherwise, no rank, no toleration even, for me.
+I had no arts but manly arts. On them I have stood,
+and, please God, in spite of the Duke of Bedford and the
+Earl of Lauderdale, to the last gasp will I stand....</p>
+
+<p>The Duke of Bedford conceives that he is obliged to
+call the attention of the House of Peers to his Majesty's
+grant to me, which he considers as excessive and out of
+all bounds.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I know not how it has happened, but it really seems,
+that, whilst his Grace was meditating his well-considered
+censure upon me, he fell into a sort of sleep. Homer
+nods, and the Duke of Bedford may dream; and as
+dreams<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>even his golden dreams<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>are apt to be ill-pieced
+and incongruously put together, his Grace preserved
+his idea of reproach to <i>me</i>, but took the subject-matter
+from the crown grants to <i>his own family</i>. This
+is "the stuff of which his dreams are made." In that
+way of putting things together, his Grace is perfectly in
+the right. The grants to the house of Russell were so
+enormous, as not only to outrage economy, but even to
+stagger credibility. The Duke of Bedford is the leviathan
+among all the creatures of the crown. He tumbles
+about his unwieldy bulk; he plays and frolics in the
+ocean of the royal bounty. Huge as he is, and whilst
+"he lies floating many a rood," he is still a creature. His
+ribs, his fins, his whalebone, his blubber, the very spiracles
+through which he spouts a torrent of brine against his
+origin, and covers me all over with the spray<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>everything
+of him and about him is from the throne. Is it for
+<i>him</i> to question the dispensation of the royal favor?</p>
+
+<p>I really am at a loss to draw any sort of parallel
+between the public merits of his Grace, by which he
+justifies the grants he holds, and these services of mine,
+on the favorable construction of which I have obtained
+what his Grace so much disapproves. In private life I
+have not at all the honor of acquaintance with the noble
+Duke; but I ought to presume, and it costs me nothing
+to do so, that he abundantly deserves the esteem and
+love of all who live with him. But as to public service,
+why, truly, it would not be more ridiculous for me to
+compare myself, in rank, in fortune, in splendid descent,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+in youth, strength, or figure, with the Duke of Bedford,
+than to make a parallel between his services and my
+attempts to be useful to my country. It would not be
+gross adulation, but uncivil irony, to say that he has any
+public merit of his own to keep alive the idea of the
+services by which his vast landed pensions were obtained.
+My merits, whatever they are, are original and personal:
+his are derivative. It is his ancestor, the original pensioner,
+that has laid up this inexhaustible fund of merit,
+which makes his Grace so very delicate and exceptious
+about the merit of all other grantees of the crown.
+Had he permitted me to remain in quiet, I should have
+said: "'Tis his estate; that's enough. It is his by law;
+what have I to do with it or its history?" He would
+naturally have said on his side: "'Tis this man's fortune.
+He is as good now as my ancestor was two hundred
+and fifty years ago. I am a young man with very old
+pensions: he is an old man with very young pensions<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that's
+all."</p>
+
+<p>Why will his Grace, by attacking me, force me reluctantly
+to compare my little merit with that which
+obtained from the crown those prodigies of profuse
+donation by which he tramples on the mediocrity of
+humble and laborious individuals?... Since the
+new grantees have war made on them by the old, and
+that the word of the sovereign is not to be taken, let us
+turn our eyes to history, in which great men have always
+a pleasure in contemplating the heroic origin of their
+house.</p>
+
+<p>The first peer of the name, the first purchaser of the
+grants, was a Mr. Russell, a person of an ancient gentleman's
+family, raised by being a minion of Henry the
+Eighth. As there generally is some resemblance of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
+character to create these relations, the favorite was in all
+likelihood much such another as his master. The first of
+those immoderate grants was not taken from the ancient
+demesne of the crown, but from the recent confiscation
+of the ancient nobility of the land. The lion, having
+sucked the blood of his prey, threw the offal carcass to
+the jackal in waiting. Having tasted once the food of
+confiscation, the favorites became fierce and ravenous.
+This worthy favorite's first grant was from the lay nobility.
+The second, infinitely improving on the enormity
+of the first, was from the plunder of the church. In
+truth, his Grace is somewhat excusable for his dislike to
+a grant like mine, not only in its quantity, but in its
+kind, so different from his own.</p>
+
+<p>Mine was from a mild and benevolent sovereign: his,
+from Henry the Eighth. Mine had not its fund in the
+murder of any innocent person of illustrious rank, or in
+the pillage of any body of unoffending men: his grants
+were from the aggregate and consolidated funds of judgments
+iniquitously legal, and from possessions voluntarily
+surrendered by the lawful proprietors with the
+gibbet at their door.</p>
+
+<p>The merit of the grantee whom he derives from, was
+that of being a prompt and greedy instrument of a
+levelling tyrant, who oppressed all descriptions of his
+people, but who fell with particular fury on everything
+that was great and noble. Mine has been in endeavoring
+to screen every man, in every class, from oppression, and
+particularly in defending the high and eminent, who, in
+the bad times of confiscating princes, confiscating chief-governors,
+or confiscating demagogues, are the most exposed
+to jealousy, avarice, and envy.</p>
+
+<p>The merit of the original grantee of his Grace's pen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>sions
+was in giving his hand to the work, and partaking
+the spoil with a prince who plundered a part of the
+national church of his time and country. Mine was in
+defending the whole of the national church of my own
+time and my own country, and the whole of the national
+churches of all countries, from the principles and the
+examples which lead to ecclesiastical pillage, thence to
+a contempt of <i>all</i> prescriptive titles, thence to the pillage
+of <i>all</i> property, and thence to universal desolation.</p>
+
+<p>The merit of the origin of his Grace's fortune was in
+being a favorite and chief adviser to a prince who left no
+liberty to his native country. My endeavor was to obtain
+liberty for the municipal country in which I was born,
+and for all descriptions and denominations in it. Mine
+was to support, with unrelaxing vigilance, every right,
+every privilege, every franchise, in this my adopted, my
+dearer, and more comprehensive country; and not only
+to preserve those rights in this chief seat of empire, but
+in every nation, in every land, in every climate, language,
+and religion, in the vast domain that still is under the
+protection, and the larger that was once under the protection,
+of the British crown.</p>
+
+<p>His founder's merits were, by arts in which he served
+his master and made his fortune, to bring poverty,
+wretchedness, and depopulation on his country. Mine
+were under a benevolent prince, in promoting the commerce,
+manufactures, and agriculture of his kingdom.</p>
+
+<p>His founder's merit was the merit of a gentleman
+raised by the arts of a court and the protection of a
+Wolsey to the eminence of a great and potent lord.
+His merit in that eminence was, by instigating a tyrant
+to injustice, to provoke a people to rebellion. My merit
+was, to awaken the sober part of the country, that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
+might put themselves on their guard against any one
+potent lord, or any greater number of potent lords, or
+any combination of great leading men of any sort, if
+ever they should attempt to proceed in the same courses,
+but in the reverse order,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that is, by instigating a corrupted
+populace to rebellion, and, through that rebellion,
+introducing a tyranny yet worse than the tyranny which
+his Grace's ancestor supported, and of which he profited
+in the manner we behold in the despotism of Henry the
+Eighth.</p>
+
+<p>The political merit of the first pensioner of his Grace's
+house was that of being concerned as a counsellor of
+state in advising, and in his person executing, the conditions
+of a dishonorable peace with France,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the surrendering
+of the fortress of Boulogne, then our outguard on
+the Continent. By that surrender, Calais, the key of
+France, and the bridle in the mouth of that power, was
+not many years afterwards finally lost. My merit has
+been in resisting the power and pride of France, under
+any form of its rule; but in opposing it with the
+greatest zeal and earnestness, when that rule appeared in
+the worst form it could assume,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the worst, indeed,
+which the prime cause and principle of all evil could
+possibly give it. It was my endeavor by every means to
+excite a spirit in the House, where I had the honor of a
+seat, for carrying on with early vigor and decision the
+most clearly just and necessary war that this or any
+nation ever carried on, in order to save my country from
+the iron yoke of its power, and from the more dreadful
+contagion of its principles,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>to preserve, while they can
+be preserved, pure and untainted, the ancient, inbred
+integrity, piety, good-nature, and good-humor of the
+people of England, from the dreadful pestilence which,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+beginning in France, threatens to lay waste the whole
+moral and in a great degree the whole physical world,
+having done both in the focus of its most intense malignity.</p>
+
+<p>The labors of his Grace's founder merited the "curses,
+not loud, but deep," of the Commons of England, on
+whom <i>he</i> and his master had effected a <i>complete Parliamentary
+Reform</i>, by making them, in their slavery
+and humiliation, the true and adequate representatives
+of a debased, degraded, and undone people. My merits
+were in having had an active, though not always an
+ostentatious share, in every one act, without exception,
+of undisputed constitutional utility in my time, and in
+having supported, on all occasions, the authority, the
+efficiency, and the privileges of the Commons of Great
+Britain. I ended my services by a recorded and fully
+reasoned assertion on their own journals of their constitutional
+rights, and a vindication of their constitutional
+conduct. I labored in all things to merit their inward
+approbation, and (along with the assistants of the largest,
+the greatest, and best of my endeavors) I received their
+free, unbiased, public, and solemn thanks.</p>
+
+<p>Thus stands the account of the comparative merits of
+the crown grants which compose the Duke of Bedford's
+fortune, as balanced against mine.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> <i>From</i> "<span class="smcap">A Letter to a Noble Lord</span>, <i>on the attacks made upon Mr.
+Burke and his Pension, in the House of Lords, by the Duke of Bedford and the
+Earl of Lauderdale, early in the Present Session of Parliament." 1796.</i></p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 430px;">
+<p><i>England, with all thy faults, I love thee still,<br />
+My country! and, while yet a nook is left<br />
+Where English minds and manners may be found,<br />
+Shall be constrain'd to love thee. Though thy clime<br />
+Be fickle, and thy year, most part, deform'd<br />
+With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost,<br />
+I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies<br />
+And fields without a flower, for warmer France<br />
+With all her vines.</i></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 12em;">C</span><span class="smcap">owper</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>The Timepiece</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxvi" id="xxvi"></a><a href="#anchor_xxvi">XXVI</a>. TWO EIGHTEENTH CENTURY SCENES.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">William Cowper</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1731-1800.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From letters to the Rev. John Newton.</i></h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span style="padding-left: 20em;">Nov. 17th, 1783.</span></p>
+
+<p>... <span class="smcap">Since</span> our conflagration here, we have sent two
+women and a boy to the justice, for depredation; S. R.
+for stealing a piece of beef, which, in her excuse, she said
+she intended to take care of. This lady, whom you well
+remember, escaped for want of evidence; not that evidence
+was wanting, but our men of Gotham judged it unnecessary
+to send it. With her went the woman I mentioned
+before, who, it seems, has made some sort of profession, but
+upon this occasion allowed herself a latitude of conduct
+rather inconsistent with it, having filled her apron with
+wearing-apparel, which she likewise intended to take care
+of. She would have gone to the county gaol, had
+William Raban, the baker's son, who prosecuted, insisted
+upon it; but he, good-naturedly, though I think weakly,
+interposed in her favor, and begged her off. The young
+gentleman who accompanied these fair ones is the junior
+son of Molly Boswell. He had stolen some iron-work,
+the property of Griggs the butcher. Being convicted,
+he was ordered to be whipped, which operation he underwent
+at the cart's tail, from the stone-house to the high
+arch, and back again. He seemed to show great fortitude,
+but it was all an imposition upon the public. The
+beadle, who performed it, had filled his left hand with
+yellow ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew
+the lash of his whip, leaving the appearance of a wound
+upon the skin, but in reality not hurting him at all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+This being perceived by Mr. Constable H., who followed
+the beadle, he applied his cane, without any such management
+or precaution, to the shoulders of the too
+merciful executioner. The scene immediately became
+more interesting. The beadle could by no means be
+prevailed upon to strike hard, which provoked the constable
+to strike harder; and this double flogging continued,
+till a lass of Silver-End, pitying the pitiful
+beadle thus suffering under the hands of the pitiless
+constable, joined the procession, and placing herself
+immediately behind the latter, seized him by his capillary
+club, and pulling him backwards by the same,
+slapped his face with a most Amazon fury. This concatenation
+of events has taken up more of my paper
+than I intended it should, but I could not forbear to
+inform you how the beadle thrashed the thief, the constable
+the beadle, and the lady the constable, and how the
+thief was the only person concerned who suffered nothing.</p>
+
+<hr class="center" style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 20em;">March 29th, 1784.</span></p>
+
+<p>It being his Majesty's pleasure, that I should yet have
+another opportunity to write before he dissolves the
+Parliament, I avail myself of it with all possible alacrity.
+I thank you for your last, which was not the less welcome
+for coming, like an extraordinary gazette, at a time when
+it was not expected.</p>
+
+<p>As when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the water
+finds its way into creeks and holes of rocks, which in its
+calmer state it never reaches, in like manner the effect of
+these turbulent times is felt even at Orchard Side, where
+in general we live as undisturbed by the political element
+as shrimps or cockles that have been accidentally
+deposited in some hollow beyond the water-mark, by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+usual dashing of the waves. We were sitting yesterday
+after dinner, the two ladies and myself, very composedly,
+and without the least apprehension of any such
+intrusion in our snug parlor, one lady knitting, the other
+netting, and the gentleman winding worsted, when to our
+unspeakable surprise a mob appeared before the window;
+a smart rap was heard at the door, the boys bellowed,
+and the maid announced Mr. Grenville. Puss was unfortunately
+let out of her box, so that the candidate,
+with all his good friends at his heels, was refused admittance
+at the grand entry, and referred to the back door,
+as the only possible way of approach.</p>
+
+<p>Candidates are creatures not very susceptible of affronts,
+and would rather, I suppose, climb in at the
+window, than be absolutely excluded. In a minute, the
+yard, the kitchen, and the parlor were filled. Mr. Grenville,
+advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with
+a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As
+soon as he, and as many more as could find chairs, were
+seated, he began to open the intent of his visit. I told
+him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me credit.
+I assured him I had no influence, which he was not
+equally inclined to believe, and the less, no doubt, because
+Mr. Ashburner, the draper, addressing himself to
+me at this moment, informed me that I had a great deal.
+Supposing that I could not be possessed of such a treasure
+without knowing it, I ventured to affirm my first
+assertion, by saying, that if I had any I was utterly at a
+loss to imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted.
+Thus ended the conference. Mr. Grenville squeezed me
+by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and withdrew. He
+kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen, and seemed
+upon the whole a most loving, kissing, kind-hearted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+gentleman. He is very young, genteel, and handsome.
+He has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not
+being sufficient, as it should seem, for the many nice and
+difficult purposes of a senator, he has a third also, which
+he suspended from his buttonhole. The boys halloo'd,
+the dogs barked, puss scampered, the hero, with his long
+train of obsequious followers, withdrew. We made ourselves
+very merry with the adventure, and in a short
+time settled into our former tranquillity, never probably
+to be thus interrupted more. I thought myself, however,
+happy in being able to affirm truly that I had not that
+influence for which he sued; and which, had I been
+possessed of it, with my present views of the dispute
+between the Crown and the Commons, I must have refused
+him, for he is on the side of the former. It is
+comfortable to be of no consequence in a world where
+one cannot exercise any without disobliging somebody.
+The town, however, seems to be much at his service, and
+if he be equally successful throughout the country, he
+will undoubtedly gain his election. Mr. Ashburner, perhaps,
+was a little mortified, because it was evident I
+owed the honor of this visit to his misrepresentation of
+my importance. But had he thought proper to assure
+Mr. Grenville that I had three heads, I should not, I suppose,
+have been bound to produce them....</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 380px;">
+<p><i>Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,<br />
+Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,<br />
+And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn<br />
+Throws up a steamy column, and the cups<br />
+That cheer but not inebriate wait on each,<br />
+So let us welcome peaceful evening in.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 8em;">C</span><span class="smcap">owper</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>The Winter Evening</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxvii" id="xxvii"></a><a href="#anchor_xxvii">XXVII</a>. FROM "THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL."<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Richard Brinsley Sheridan</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1751-1816.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>A Room in</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Peter Teazle's</span> <i>House.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Peter Teazle</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> When an old bachelor marries a young wife,
+what is he to expect? 'Tis now six months since Lady
+Teazle made me the happiest of men<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and I have been
+the most miserable dog ever since. We tiffed a little
+going to church, and fairly quarrelled before the bells had
+done ringing. I was more than once nearly choked with
+gall during the honeymoon, and had lost all comfort in
+life before my friends had done wishing me joy. Yet I
+chose with caution<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a girl bred wholly in the country,
+who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown, nor
+dissipation above the annual gala of a race ball. Yet
+she now plays her part in all the extravagant fopperies
+of fashion and the town with as ready a grace as if she
+never had seen a bush or a grass-plot out of Grosvenor
+Square! I am sneered at by all my acquaintance, and
+paragraphed in the newspapers. She dissipates my
+fortune, and contradicts all my humors; yet the worst
+of it is, I doubt I love her, or I should never bear all
+this. However, I'll never be weak enough to own it.
+But I meet with nothing but crosses and vexations<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and
+the fault is entirely hers. I am, myself, the sweetest-tempered
+man alive, and hate a teasing temper; and so
+I tell her a hundred times a day.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Ay! and what is very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+extraordinary, in all our disputes she is always in the
+wrong. But Lady Sneerwell, and the set she meets at
+her house, encourage the perverseness of her disposition.
+Then, to complete my vexation, Maria, my ward, whom
+I ought to have the power of a father over, is determined
+to turn rebel too, and absolutely refuses the man
+whom I have long resolved on for her husband<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Teazle</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or
+not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in
+everything, and, what's more, I will too. What! though
+I was educated in the country, I know very well that
+women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody
+after they are married.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Very well, ma'am, very well; so a husband is
+to have no influence, no authority?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Authority! No, to be sure. If you
+wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me,
+and not married me: I am sure you were old enough.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Old enough!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>ay, there it is. Well, well,
+Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by
+your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance!</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more
+extravagant than a woman of fashion ought to be.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> No, no, madam, you shall throw away no
+more sums on such unmeaning luxury. Such wastefulness!
+to spend as much to furnish your dressing-room
+with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon
+into a greenhouse, and give a <i>f</i><ins class="translit" title="e circumflex"><i>&#234;</i></ins><i>te champ</i><ins class="translit" title="e circumflex"><i>&#234;</i></ins><i>tre</i> at
+Christmas.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>
+flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault
+with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I'm
+sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and that
+roses grew under our feet.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Oons! madam<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>if you had been born to this,
+I shouldn't wonder at your talking thus; but you forget
+what your situation was when I married you.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable
+one, or I should never have married you.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat
+a humbler style<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the daughter of a plain country squire.
+Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first sitting at
+your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a
+bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth
+over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits
+in worsted, of your own working.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Oh, yes! I remember it very well, and a
+curious life I led. My daily occupation<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>to inspect the
+dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the
+family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap-dog.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> And then you know my evening amusements!
+To draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not
+materials to make up; to play Pope Joan with the
+curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck
+down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after
+a fox-chase.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes,
+madam, these were the recreations I took you from; but
+now you must have your coach<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>vis-</i><ins class="translit" title="a grave"><i>&#224;</i></ins><i>-vis</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and three
+powdered footmen before your chair; and, in the summer,
+a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to
+ride double, behind the butler, on a docked coach-horse.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> No<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I vow I never did that: I deny the
+butler and the coach-horse.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> This, madam, was your situation; and what
+have I done for you? I have made you a woman of
+fashion, of fortune, of rank<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in short, I have made you
+my wife.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Well, then, and there is but one thing
+more you can make me to add to the obligation, that
+is<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> My widow, I suppose?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Hem! hem!</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> I thank you, madam<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but don't flatter yourself;
+for, though your ill conduct may disturb my peace
+of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you:
+however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Then why will you endeavor to make
+yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every
+little elegant expense?</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Madam, I say, had you any of these little
+elegant expenses when you married me?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Sir Peter! would you have me be out of
+the fashion?</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> The fashion, indeed! what had you to do
+with the fashion before you married me?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> For my part, I should think you would
+like to have your wife thought a woman of taste.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Ay<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>there again<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>taste! Zounds! madam,
+you had no taste when you married me!</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter! and
+after having married you, I should never pretend to taste
+again, I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since we have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my
+engagement at Lady Sneerwell's.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Ay, there's another precious circumstance<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a
+charming set of acquaintances you have made there!</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank
+and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a
+vengeance; for they don't choose anybody should have
+a character but themselves! Such a crew! Ah! many
+a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief
+than these utterers of forged tales; coiners of scandal,
+and clippers of reputation.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> What, would you restrain the freedom of
+speech?</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Ah! they have made you just as bad as any
+one of the society.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Why, I believe I do bear a part with a
+tolerable grace.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Grace, indeed!</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> But I vow I bear no malice against the
+people I abuse; when I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out
+of pure good humor; and I take it for granted they deal
+exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter,
+you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Well, well, I'll call in, just to look after my
+own character.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Then, indeed, you must make haste after
+me, or you'll be too late. So good-bye to ye.<br />
+<span class="right">[<i>Exit.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> So<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I have gained much by my intended
+expostulation! Yet with what a charming air she contradicts
+everything I say; and how pleasantly she shows
+her contempt for my authority! Well, though I can't
+make her love me; there is great satisfaction in quarrel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>ling
+with her; and I think she never appears to such
+advantage as when she is doing everything in her power
+to plague me.<br />
+<span class="right">[<i>Exit</i>.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>A room in</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Sneerwell's</span> <i>House.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Lady Sneerwell, Mrs. Candour, Crabtree, Sir
+Benjamin Backbite</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Joseph Surface</span>,
+<i>discovered</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Teazle</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Maria</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Lady Teazle, I hope we shall see Sir
+Peter?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> I believe he'll wait on your ladyship presently.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Maria, my love, you look grave. Come,
+you shall sit down to piquet with Mr. Surface.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mar.</i> I take very little pleasure in cards<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>however, I'll
+do as your ladyship pleases.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Now I'll die; but you are so scandalous, I'll
+forswear your society.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> What's the matter, Mrs. Candour?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> They'll not allow our friend Miss Vermillion
+to be handsome.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Oh, surely she is a pretty woman.</p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> I am very glad you think so, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> She has a charming fresh color.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Yes, when it is fresh put on.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Oh, fie! Her color is natural: I have seen
+it come and go!</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> I dare say you have, ma'am: it goes off
+at night, and comes again in the morning.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> True, ma'am, it not only comes and goes;
+but, what's more, her maid can fetch and carry it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Ha! ha! ha! how I hate to hear you talk
+so! But surely now, her sister is, or was, very handsome.</p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> Who? Mrs. Evergreen? Oh! she's six-and-fifty
+if she's an hour!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Now positively you wrong her; fifty-two
+or fifty-three is the utmost<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and I don't think she looks
+more.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> Ah! there's no judging by her looks, unless
+one could see her face.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Well, well, if Mrs. Evergreen does take
+some pains to repair the ravages of time, you must allow
+she effects it with great ingenuity; and surely that's
+better than the careless manner in which the widow
+Ochre caulks her wrinkles.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> Nay, now, Lady Sneerwell, you are severe
+upon the widow. Come, come, 'tis not that she paints so
+ill<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but, when she has finished her face, she joins it on
+so badly to her neck, that she looks like a mended statue,
+in which the connoisseur may see at once that the head
+is modern, though the trunk's antique.</p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> Ha! ha! ha! Well said, nephew!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Ha! ha! ha! Well, you make me laugh;
+but I vow I hate you for it. What do you think of Miss
+Simper?</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> Why, she has very pretty teeth.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Yes, and on that account, when she is
+neither speaking nor laughing (which very seldom happens),
+she never absolutely shuts her mouth, but leaves it
+always on a-jar, as it were<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>thus.<br />
+<span class="right">[<i>Shows her teeth.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> How can you be so ill-natured?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Nay, I allow even that's better than the
+pains Mrs. Prim takes to conceal her losses in front.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+She draws her mouth till it positively resembles the
+aperture of a poor's-box, and all her words appear to
+slide out edgewise as it were<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>thus: <i>How do you do,
+madam? Yes, madam.</i><br />
+<span class="right">[<i>Mimics.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Very well, Lady Teazle; I see you can
+be a little severe.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> In defence of a friend it is but justice.
+But here comes Sir Peter to spoil our pleasantry.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Peter Teazle</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Ladies, your most obedient.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>[<i>Aside,</i>] Mercy
+on me, here is the whole set! a character dead at every
+word, I suppose.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> I am rejoiced you are come, Sir Peter.
+They have been so censorious<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and Lady Teazle as bad
+as any one.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> That must be very distressing to you, indeed,
+Mrs. Candour.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Oh, they will allow good qualities to nobody:
+not even good nature to our friend Mrs. Pursy.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> What, the fat dowager who was at Mrs.
+Quadrille's last night?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Nay, her bulk is her misfortune; and, when
+she takes so much pains to get rid of it, you ought not
+to reflect on her.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> That's very true, indeed.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Yes, I know she almost lives on acids and
+small whey; laces herself by pulleys; and often, in the
+hottest noon in summer, you may see her on a little
+squat pony, with her hair plaited up behind like a drummer's,
+and puffing round the ring on a full trot.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> I thank you, Lady Teazle, for defending her.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Yes, a good defence, truly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Truly, Lady Teazle is as censorious as Miss
+Sallow.</p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> Yes, and she is a curious being to pretend to be
+censorious<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>an awkward thing, without any one good
+point under the sun.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Positively you shall not be so very severe.
+Miss Sallow is a near relation of mine by marriage, and,
+as for her person, great allowance is to be made; for, let
+me tell you, a woman labors under many disadvantages
+who tries to pass for a girl of six-and-thirty.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Though, surely, she is handsome still<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and
+for the weakness in her eyes, considering how much
+she reads by candlelight, it is not to be wondered at.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> True, and then as to her manner; upon my
+word I think it is particularly graceful, considering she
+never had the least education; for you know her mother
+was a Welsh milliner, and her father a sugar-baker at
+Bristol.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> Ah! you are both of you too good-natured!</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Yes, distressingly good-natured! This their
+own relation! Mercy on me!<br />
+<span class="right">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> For my part, I own I cannot bear to hear a
+friend ill-spoken of.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> No, to be sure!</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> Oh! you are of a moral turn. Mrs. Candour
+and I can sit for an hour and hear Lady Stucco talk
+sentiment.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teas.</i> Nay, I vow Lady Stucco is very well with
+the dessert after dinner; for she's just like the French
+fruit one cracks for mottoes<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>made up of paint and
+proverb.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Well, I will never join in ridiculing a friend;
+and so I constantly tell my cousin Ogle, and you all
+know what pretensions she has to be critical on beauty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> Oh, to be sure! she has herself the oddest countenance
+that ever was seen; 'tis a collection of features
+from all the different countries of the globe.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> So she has, indeed<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>an Irish front<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> Caledonian locks<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> Dutch nose<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> Austrian lips<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> Complexion of a Spaniard<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> And teeth <ins class="translit" title="a grave"><i>&#224;</i></ins> <i>la Chinoise</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> In short, her face resembles a <i>table d'h</i><ins class="translit" title="o circumflex"><i>&#244;</i></ins><i>te</i> at
+Spa<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>where no two guests are of a nation<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> Or a congress at the close of a general war<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>wherein
+all the members, even to her eyes, appear to
+have a different interest, and her nose and chin are the
+only parties likely to join issue.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Ha! ha! ha!</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Mercy on my life!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a person they dine with
+twice a week!<br />
+<span class="right">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> Nay, but I vow you shall not carry the
+laugh off so<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for give me leave to say that Mrs. Ogle<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Madam, madam, I beg your pardon<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>there's
+no stopping these good gentlemen's tongues. But when
+I tell you, Mrs. Candour, that the lady they are abusing
+is a particular friend of mine, I hope you'll not take her
+part.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Ha! ha! ha! well said, Sir Peter! but
+you are a cruel creature<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>too phlegmatic yourself for a
+jest, and too peevish to allow wit in others.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Ah, madam, true wit is more nearly allied to
+good nature than your ladyship is aware of.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teas.</i> True, Sir Peter; I believe they are so
+near akin that they can never be united.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Ben.</i> Or rather, suppose them man and wife, because
+one seldom sees them together.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span><i>Lady Teaz.</i> But Sir Peter is such an enemy to scandal,
+I believe he would have it put down by parliament.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Positively, madam, if they were to consider
+the sporting with reputation of as much importance as
+poaching on manors, and pass an act for the preservation
+of fame, as well as game, I believe many would
+thank them for the bill.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Why! Sir Peter; would you deprive us
+of our privileges?</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Ay, madam; and then no person should be
+permitted to kill characters and run down reputations
+but qualified old maids and disappointed widows.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Go, you monster!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Can.</i> But, surely, you would not be quite so
+severe on those who only report what they hear?</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Yes, madam, I would have law merchant for
+them too; and in all cases of slander currency, whenever
+the drawer of the lie was not to be found, the injured
+parties should have a right to come on any of the
+indorsers.</p>
+
+<p><i>Crab.</i> Well, for my part, I believe there never was a
+scandalous tale without some foundation.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Come, ladies, shall we sit down to cards
+in the next room?</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> Servant, <i>who whispers</i> Sir Peter.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> I'll be with them directly.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.]
+I'll get away unperceived.<br />
+<span class="right">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Sneer.</i> Sir Peter, you are not going to leave us?</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pet.</i> Your ladyship must excuse me; I'm called
+away by particular business. But I leave my character
+behind me.<br />
+<span class="right">[<i>Exit.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span><i>Sir Ben.</i> Well<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>certainly, Lady Teazle, that lord of
+yours is a strange being: I could tell you some stories
+of him would make you laugh heartily if he were not
+your husband.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Teaz.</i> Oh, pray, don't mind that; come, do let's
+hear them.</p>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>Exeunt all but</i> <span class="smcap">Joseph Surface</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Maria.</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Jos. Surf.</i> Maria, I see you have no satisfaction in this
+society.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mar.</i> How is it possible I should? If to raise malicious
+smiles at the infirmities or misfortunes of those
+who have never injured us be the province of wit or
+humor, Heaven grant me a double portion of dulness!</p>
+
+<p><i>Jos. Surf.</i> Yet they appear more ill-natured than they
+are; they have no malice at heart.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mar.</i> Then is their conduct still more contemptible;
+for, in my opinion, nothing could excuse the intemperance
+of their tongues but a natural and uncontrollable
+bitterness of mind.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> For the sake of brevity a part of the first scene has been excised. It subsequently appears that Lady Teazle abandons the society of the scandal-mongers,
+and she and her fond but somewhat irascible husband become happily reconciled.</p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 350px;">
+<p><i>Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us<br />
+To see oursel's as others see us!<br />
+It wad frae monie a blunder free us<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">And foolish notion:</span><br />
+What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">And e'en devotion!</span></i><br />
+</p>
+<p><span style="padding-left: 13em;">R</span><span class="smcap">obert Burns</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxviii" id="xxviii"></a><a href="#anchor_xxviii">XXVIII</a>. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY<br />
+NIGHT.<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Robert Burns</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1759-1796.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 300px; font-size: small;">
+<p>Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;</span><br />
+Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">The short and simple annals of the poor.</span><br /></p>
+<p>
+<span style="padding-left: 21em;">G</span><span class="smcap">ray</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 570px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">My</span> lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">No mercenary bard his homage pays;</span><br />
+With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,</span><br />
+The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;</span><br />
+What Aiken in a cottage would have been;<br />
+Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;<a name="FNanchor_1_9" id="FNanchor_1_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_9" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The short'ning winter-day is near a close;</span><br />
+The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose:</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+This night his weekly moil is at an end,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,</span><br />
+Hoping the morn<a name="FNanchor_2_10" id="FNanchor_2_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_10" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> in ease and rest to spend,<br />
+And, weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.
+</p>
+
+<p>At length his lonely cot appears in view,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;</span><br />
+The expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher<a name="FNanchor_3_11" id="FNanchor_3_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_11" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> through,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To meet their dad, wi' flichterin</span><a name="FNanchor_4_12" id="FNanchor_4_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_12" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> noise an' glee.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">His wee bit ingle,</span><a name="FNanchor_5_13" id="FNanchor_5_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_13" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> blinkin bonnily,<br />
+His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The lisping infant prattling on his knee,</span><br />
+Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,<br />
+An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil.</p>
+
+<p>Belyve,<a name="FNanchor_6_14" id="FNanchor_6_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_14" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> the elder bairns come drapping in,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">At service out, amang the farmers roun';</span><br />
+Some ca'<a name="FNanchor_7_15" id="FNanchor_7_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_15" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> the pleugh, some herd, some tentie<a name="FNanchor_8_16" id="FNanchor_8_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_16" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> rin<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A canny</span><a name="FNanchor_9_17" id="FNanchor_9_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_17" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> errand to a neebor town:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,</span><br />
+In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw</span><a name="FNanchor_10_18" id="FNanchor_10_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_18" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> new gown,<br />
+Or deposite<a name="FNanchor_11_19" id="FNanchor_11_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_19" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> her sair-won<a name="FNanchor_12_20" id="FNanchor_12_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_20" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> penny-fee,<a name="FNanchor_13_21" id="FNanchor_13_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_21" class="fnanchor">[13]</a><br />
+To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.</p>
+
+<p>Wi' joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And each for other's welfare kindly spiers:</span><a name="FNanchor_14_22" id="FNanchor_14_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_22" class="fnanchor">[14]</a><br />
+The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed fleet;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Each tells the uncos</span><a name="FNanchor_15_23" id="FNanchor_15_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_23" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> that he sees or hears;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;</span><br />
+Anticipation forward points the view.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears,</span><br />
+Gars<a name="FNanchor_16_24" id="FNanchor_16_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_24" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;<br />
+The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.</p>
+
+<p>Their master's an' their mistress's command<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The younkers a' are warn</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d to obey;<br />
+An' mind their labors wi' an eydent<a name="FNanchor_17_25" id="FNanchor_17_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_25" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> hand,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">An' ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk</span><a name="FNanchor_18_26" id="FNanchor_18_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_26" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> or play:<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span><span style="padding-left: 2em;">"An' oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,</span><br />
+An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,</span><br />
+Implore His counsel and assisting might:<br />
+They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"</p>
+
+<p>But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,</span><br />
+Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To do some errands, and convoy her hame.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The wily mother sees the conscious flame</span><br />
+Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, an' flush her cheek;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Wi' heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name,</span><br />
+While Jenny hafflins<a name="FNanchor_19_27" id="FNanchor_19_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_27" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> is afraid to speak;<br />
+Weel pleas'd the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake.</p>
+
+<p>Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;<a name="FNanchor_20_28" id="FNanchor_20_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_28" class="fnanchor">[20]</a><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A strappan youth; he taks the mother's eye;</span><br />
+Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The father cracks</span><a name="FNanchor_21_29" id="FNanchor_21_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_29" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> of horses, pleughs, and kye.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,</span><br />
+But, blate<a name="FNanchor_22_30" id="FNanchor_22_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_30" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> an' laithfu',<a name="FNanchor_23_31" id="FNanchor_23_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_31" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> scarce can weel behave;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy</span><br />
+What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave;<br />
+Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave.<a name="FNanchor_24_32" id="FNanchor_24_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_32" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></p>
+
+<p>O happy love! where love like this is found!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!</span><br />
+I've pac<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d much this weary, mortal round,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And sage experience bids me this declare</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,</span><br />
+One cordial in this melancholy vale,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,</span><br />
+In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,<br />
+Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+Is there, in human form, that bears a heart<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth!</span><br />
+That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Curse on his perjur'd arts! dissembling smooth!</span><br />
+Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,</span><br />
+Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?<br />
+Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild!</p>
+
+<p>But now the supper crowns their simple board,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food</span><br />
+The soupe<a name="FNanchor_25_33" id="FNanchor_25_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_33" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> their only hawkie<a name="FNanchor_26_34" id="FNanchor_26_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_34" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> does afford,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That 'yont the hallan<a name="FNanchor_27_35" id="FNanchor_27_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_35" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> snugly chows her cood;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The dame brings forth, in complimental mood,</span><br />
+To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd<a name="FNanchor_28_36" id="FNanchor_28_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_36" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> kebbuck,<a name="FNanchor_29_37" id="FNanchor_29_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_37" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> fell,<a name="FNanchor_30_38" id="FNanchor_30_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_38" class="fnanchor">[30]</a><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid:</span><br />
+The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell<br />
+How 'twas a towmond<a name="FNanchor_31_39" id="FNanchor_31_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_39" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.<a name="FNanchor_32_40" id="FNanchor_32_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_40" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></p>
+
+<p>The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;</span><br />
+The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The big ha'-Bible,</span><a name="FNanchor_33_41" id="FNanchor_33_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_41" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> ance his father's pride:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,</span><br />
+His lyart<a name="FNanchor_34_42" id="FNanchor_34_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_42" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> haffets<a name="FNanchor_35_43" id="FNanchor_35_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_43" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> wearing thin an' bare;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,</span><br />
+He wales<a name="FNanchor_36_44" id="FNanchor_36_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_44" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> a portion with judicious care;<br />
+And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.<br /></p>
+
+<p>They chant their artless notes in simple guise;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
+Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy of the name;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or noble "Elgin" beets</span><a name="FNanchor_37_45" id="FNanchor_37_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_45" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> the heavenward flame,<br />
+The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame;</span><br />
+The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise;<br />
+Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.</p>
+
+<p>The priest-like father reads the sacred page<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">How Abram was the friend of God on high;</span><br />
+Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With Amalek's ungracious progeny;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or how the royal bard did groaning lie</span><br />
+Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;</span><br />
+Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;<br />
+Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;</span><br />
+How He, who bore in Heaven the second name,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Had not on earth whereon to lay His head;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">How His first followers and servants sped;</span><br />
+The precepts sage they wrote to many a land;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">How he, who lone in Patmos banish</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d,<br />
+Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;<br />
+And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.</p>
+
+<p>Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The saint, the father, and the husband prays:</span><br />
+Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That thus they all shall meet in future days:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">There ever bask in uncreated rays,</span><br />
+No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Together hymning their Creator's praise,</span><br />
+In such society, yet still more dear;<br />
+While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.</p>
+
+<p>Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In all the pomp of method, and of art,</span><br />
+When men display to congregations wide<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Devotion's every grace, except the heart!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert,</span><br />
+The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But, haply, in some cottage far apart,</span><br />
+May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul;<br />
+And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.</p>
+
+<p>Then homeward all take off their several way:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The youngling cottagers retire to rest;</span><br />
+The parent-pair their secret homage pay,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And proffer up to Heaven the warm request</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That He, who stills the raven's clam'rous nest,</span><br />
+And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,</span><br />
+For them, and for their little ones provide;<br />
+But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.</p>
+
+<p>From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad:</span><br />
+Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"An honest man's the noblest work of God;"</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,</span><br />
+The cottage leaves the palace far behind;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">What is a lordling's pomp?</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a cumbrous load,<br />
+Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,<br />
+Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent!</span><br />
+Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And, oh! may Heaven their simple lives prevent</span><br />
+From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,</span><br />
+A virtuous populace may rise the while,<br />
+And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle.</p>
+
+<p>O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That stream'd through Wallace's undaunted heart;</span><br />
+Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or nobly die, the second glorious part,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">(The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art,</span><br />
+His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O never, never, Scotia's realm desert;</span><br />
+But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,<br />
+In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> Inscribed to R. Aiken, Esq.</p>
+
+<p style="padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; font-size: 0.9em;"><a name="Footnote_1_9" id="Footnote_1_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_9"><span class="label">[1]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Moan.
+
+<a name="Footnote_2_10" id="Footnote_2_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_10"><span class="label">[2]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Morrow.
+
+<a name="Footnote_3_11" id="Footnote_3_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_11"><span class="label">[3]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Stagger.
+
+<a name="Footnote_4_12" id="Footnote_4_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_12"><span class="label">[4]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Fluttering.
+
+<a name="Footnote_5_13" id="Footnote_5_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_13"><span class="label">[5]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Fire-place.
+
+<a name="Footnote_6_14" id="Footnote_6_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_14"><span class="label">[6]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Presently.
+
+<a name="Footnote_7_15" id="Footnote_7_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_15"><span class="label">[7]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Drive, <i>i.e.</i>, with shouting or calling.
+
+<a name="Footnote_8_16" id="Footnote_8_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_16"><span class="label"
+style="font-size: .9em;">[8]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Attentive.
+
+<a name="Footnote_9_17" id="Footnote_9_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_17"><span class="label">[9]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Requiring judgment.
+
+<a name="Footnote_10_18" id="Footnote_10_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_18"><span class="label">[10]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Brave, fine, handsome.
+
+<a name="Footnote_11_19" id="Footnote_11_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_19"><span class="label">[11]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>De&acute;posite, <i>for</i> depos&acute;it.
+
+<a name="Footnote_12_20" id="Footnote_12_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_20"><span class="label">[12]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Dear-won, hard-earned.
+
+<a name="Footnote_13_21" id="Footnote_13_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_21"><span class="label">[13]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Money-wages.
+
+<a name="Footnote_14_22" id="Footnote_14_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_22"><span class="label">[14]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Enquires.
+
+<a name="Footnote_15_23" id="Footnote_15_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_23"><span class="label">[15]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins><i>Unknown</i> things, news.
+
+<a name="Footnote_16_24" id="Footnote_16_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_24"><span class="label">[16]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Makes.
+
+<a name="Footnote_17_25" id="Footnote_17_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_25"><span class="label">[17]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Diligent.
+
+<a name="Footnote_18_26" id="Footnote_18_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_26"><span class="label">[18]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Trifle.
+
+<a name="Footnote_19_27" id="Footnote_19_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_27"><span class="label">[19]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Half.
+
+<a name="Footnote_20_28" id="Footnote_20_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_28"><span class="label">[20]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>In, into the room.
+
+<a name="Footnote_21_29" id="Footnote_21_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_29"><span class="label">[21]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Talks.
+
+<a name="Footnote_22_30" id="Footnote_22_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_30"><span class="label">[22]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Bashful.
+
+<a name="Footnote_23_31" id="Footnote_23_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_31"><span class="label">[23]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Unwilling, shy.
+
+<a name="Footnote_24_32" id="Footnote_24_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_32"><span class="label">[24]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>What is <i>left</i>, rest.
+
+<a name="Footnote_25_33" id="Footnote_25_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_33"><span class="label">[25]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Sup; <i>here</i>, milk.
+
+<a name="Footnote_26_34" id="Footnote_26_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_34"><span class="label">[26]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>White-faced cow.
+
+<a name="Footnote_27_35" id="Footnote_27_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_35"><span class="label">[27]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Partition wall.
+
+<a name="Footnote_28_36" id="Footnote_28_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_36"><span class="label">[28]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Carefully kept.
+
+<a name="Footnote_29_37" id="Footnote_29_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_37"><span class="label">[29]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Cheese.
+
+<a name="Footnote_30_38" id="Footnote_30_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_38"><span class="label">[30]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Tasty.
+
+<a name="Footnote_31_39" id="Footnote_31_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_39"><span class="label">[31]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Twelvemonth.
+
+<a name="Footnote_32_40" id="Footnote_32_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_40"><span class="label">[32]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Since flax was in flower.
+
+<a name="Footnote_33_41" id="Footnote_33_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_41"><span class="label">[33]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Hall-Bible.
+
+<a name="Footnote_34_42" id="Footnote_34_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_42"><span class="label" style="font-size: .9em;">[34]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Grey, greyish.
+
+<a name="Footnote_35_43" id="Footnote_35_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_43"><span class="label">[35]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Temples, <i>here</i> temple-locks.
+
+<a name="Footnote_36_44" id="Footnote_36_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_44"><span class="label">[36]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Chooses.
+
+<a name="Footnote_37_45" id="Footnote_37_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_45"><span class="label">[37]</span></a><ins class="translit" title="nonbreaking space">&#160;</ins>Feeds, nourishes.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxix" id="xxix"></a><a href="#anchor_xxix">XXIX</a>. THE LAND O' THE LEAL.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lady Nairn</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1766-1845.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 300px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">I'm</span> wearin' awa', John,<br />
+Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,<br />
+I'm wearin' awa'<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To the land o' the leal.</span><br />
+There's nae sorrow there, John;<br />
+There's neither cauld nor care, John;<br />
+The day is aye fair<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In the land o' the leal.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
+Our bonnie bairn's there, John;<br />
+She was baith gude and fair, John;<br />
+And oh! we grudg'd her sair<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To the land o' the leal.</span><br />
+But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,<br />
+And joy's a-comin' fast, John,<br />
+The joy that's aye to last<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In the land o' the leal.</span></p>
+
+<p>Sae dear that joy was bought, John,<br />
+Sae free the battle fought, John,<br />
+That sinfu' man e'er brought<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To the land o' the leal.</span><br />
+Oh! dry your glistening e'e, John,<br />
+My soul langs to be free, John,<br />
+And angels beckon me<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To the land o' the leal.</span></p>
+
+<p>Oh! haud ye leal and true, John,<br />
+Your day it's wearin' through, John,<br />
+And I'll welcome you<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To the land o' the leal.</span><br />
+Now fare-ye weel, my ain John,<br />
+This warld's cares are vain, John,<br />
+We'll meet, and we'll be fain<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In the land o' the leal.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 390px;">
+<p><i>Life! we've been long together,</i><br />
+<i>Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;</i></span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;</i></span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Then steal away, give little warning,</i></span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;"><i>Choose thine own time;</i></span><br />
+<i>Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;"><i>Bid me Good-morning</i>.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 10em;" class="smcap">Mrs. Barbauld</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1743-1825.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxx" id="xxx"></a><a href="#anchor_xxx">XXX</a>. THE TRIAL BY COMBAT AT THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT.<a name="FNanchor_I_46" id="FNanchor_I_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_46" class="fnanchor">[I]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Talisman</span>.</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1771-1832.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> had been agreed, on account of the heat of the
+climate, that the judicial combat, which was the cause of
+the present assemblage of various nations at the Diamond
+of the Desert, should take place at one hour after sunrise.
+The wide lists, which had been constructed under
+the inspection of the Knight of the Leopard, enclosed a
+space of hard sand, which was one hundred and twenty
+yards long by forty in width. They extended in length
+from north to south, so as to give both parties the equal
+advantage of the rising sun. Saladin's royal seat was
+erected on the western side of the enclosure, just in the
+centre, where the combatants were expected to meet in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+mid encounter. Opposed to this was a gallery with
+closed casements, so contrived, that the ladies, for whose
+accommodation it was erected, might see the fight
+without being themselves exposed to view. At either
+extremity of the lists was a barrier, which could be
+opened or shut at pleasure. Thrones had been also
+erected, but the Archduke, perceiving that his was lower
+than King Richard's, refused to occupy it; and C<ins class="translit" title="oe ligature">&#339;</ins>ur
+de Lion, who would have submitted to much ere any
+formality should have interfered with the combat, readily
+agreed that the sponsors, as they were called, should
+remain on horseback during the fight. At one extremity
+of the lists were placed the followers of Richard, and
+opposed to them were those who accompanied the
+defender, Conrade. Around the throne destined for the
+Soldan were ranged his splendid Georgian Guards, and
+the rest of the enclosure was occupied by Christian and
+Mohammedan spectators.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>Long before daybreak, the lists were surrounded by
+even a larger number of Saracens than Richard had seen
+on the preceding evening. When the first ray of the
+sun's glorious orb arose above the desert, the sonorous
+call, "To prayer, to prayer!" was poured forth by the
+Soldan himself, and answered by others, whose rank and
+zeal entitled them to act as muezzins. It was a striking
+spectacle to see them all sink to earth, for the purpose
+of repeating their devotions, with their faces turned to
+Mecca. But when they arose from the ground, the sun's
+rays, now strengthening fast, seemed to confirm the Lord
+of Gilsland's conjecture of the night before. They were
+flashed back from many a spear-head, for the pointless
+lances of the preceding day were certainly no longer
+such. De Vaux pointed it out to his master, who
+answered with impatience, that he had perfect confidence
+in the good faith of the Soldan; but if De Vaux was
+afraid of his bulky body, he might retire.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after this the noise of timbrels was heard, at the
+sound of which the whole Saracen cavaliers threw themselves
+from their horses, and prostrated themselves, as if
+for a second morning prayer. This was to give an
+opportunity to the Queen, with Edith and her attendants,
+to pass from the pavilion to the gallery intended for
+them. Fifty guards of Saladin's seraglio escorted them,
+with naked sabres, whose orders were, to cut to pieces
+whomsoever, were he prince or peasant, should venture
+to gaze on the ladies as they passed, or even presume to
+raise his head until the cessation of the music should
+make all men aware that they were lodged in their
+gallery, not to be gazed on by the curious eye.</p>
+
+<p>This superstitious observance of Oriental reverence to
+the fair sex called forth from Queen Berengaria some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
+criticisms very unfavorable to Saladin and his country.
+But their den, as the royal fair called it, being securely
+closed and guarded by their sable attendants, she was
+under the necessity of contenting herself with seeing,
+and laying aside for the present the still more exquisite
+pleasure of being seen.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime the sponsors of both champions went, as
+was their duty, to see that they were duly armed, and
+prepared for combat. The Archduke of Austria was in
+no hurry to perform this part of the ceremony, having
+had rather an unusually severe debauch upon wine of
+Schiraz the preceding evening. But the Grand Master
+of the Temple, more deeply concerned in the event of
+the combat, was early before the tent of Conrade of
+Montserrat. To his great surprise, the attendants refused
+him admittance.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not know me, ye knaves?" said the Grand
+Master in great anger.</p>
+
+<p>"We do, most valiant and reverend," answered Conrade's
+squire; "but even <i>you</i> may not at present enter<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the
+Marquis is about to confess himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Confess himself!" exclaimed the Templar, in a tone
+where alarm mingled with surprise and scorn<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"and to
+whom I pray thee?"</p>
+
+<p>"My master bid me be secret," said the squire; on
+which the Grand Master pushed past him, and entered
+the tent almost by force.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis of Montserrat was kneeling at the feet
+of the Hermit of Engaddi, and in the act of beginning
+his confession.</p>
+
+<p>"What means this, Marquis?" said the Grand Master,
+"up, for shame<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>or, if you must needs confess, am not I
+here?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>"I have confessed to you too often already," replied
+Conrade, with a pale cheek and a faltering voice. "For
+God's sake, Grand Master, begone, and let me unfold my
+conscience to this holy man."</p>
+
+<p>"In what is he holier than I am?" said the Grand
+Master.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Hermit, prophet, madman<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>say, if thou darest,
+in what thou excellest me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bold and bad man," replied the Hermit, "know that
+I am like the latticed window, and the divine light passes
+through to avail others, though alas! it helpeth not me.
+Thou art like the iron stanchions, which neither receive
+light themselves, nor communicate it to any one."</p>
+
+<p>"Prate not to me, but depart from this tent," said the
+Grand Master; "the Marquis shall not confess this
+morning, unless it be to me, for I part not from his side."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this <i>your</i> pleasure?" said the Hermit to Conrade;
+"for think not I will obey that proud man, if you continue
+to desire my assistance."</p>
+
+<p>"Alas!" said Conrade irresolutely, "what would you
+have me say? Farewell for a while<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>we will speak
+anon."</p>
+
+<p>"O, procrastination!" exclaimed the Hermit, "thou
+art a soul-murderer!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Unhappy man, farewell; not for
+a while, but until we both shall meet<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>no matter where.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>And
+for thee," he added, turning to the Grand Master,
+"<span class="smcap">tremble</span>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tremble!" replied the Templar contemptuously, "I
+cannot if I would."</p>
+
+<p>The Hermit heard not his answer, having left the tent.</p>
+
+<p>"Come! to this gear hastily," said the Grand Master,
+"since thou wilt needs go through the foolery.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Hark
+thee<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I think I know most of thy frailties by heart, so
+we may omit the detail, which may be somewhat a long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+one, and begin with the absolution. What signifies
+counting the spots of dirt that we are about to wash
+from our hands?"</p>
+
+<p>"Knowing what thou art thyself," said Conrade, "it is
+blasphemous to speak of pardoning another."</p>
+
+<p>"That is not according to the canon, Lord Marquis,"
+said the Templar; "thou art more scrupulous than
+orthodox. The absolution of the wicked priest is as
+effectual as if he were himself a saint; otherwise,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>God
+help the poor penitent! What wounded man inquires
+whether the surgeon that tents his gashes have clean
+hands or not?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Come, shall we to this toy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Conrade, "I will rather die unconfessed
+than mock the sacrament."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, noble Marquis," said the Templar, "rouse up
+your courage, and speak not thus. In an hour's time
+thou shalt stand victorious in the lists, or confess thee in
+thy helmet, like a valiant knight."</p>
+
+<p>"Alas, Grand Master!" answered Conrade, "all augurs
+ill for this affair. The strange discovery by the instinct
+of a dog, the revival of this Scottish knight, who comes
+into the lists like a spectre,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>all betokens evil."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw!" said the Templar, "I have seen thee bend
+thy lance boldly against him in sport, and with equal
+chance of success. Think thou art but in a tournament,
+and who bears him better in the tilt-yard than thou?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Come,
+squires and armorers, your master must be accoutred
+for the field."</p>
+
+<p>The attendants entered accordingly, and began to arm
+the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"What morning is without?" said Conrade.</p>
+
+<p>"The sun rises dimly," answered a squire.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou seest, Grand Master," said Conrade, "naught
+smiles on us."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>"Thou wilt fight the more coolly, my son," answered
+the Templar. "Thank Heaven that hath tempered the
+sun of Palestine to suit thine occasion."</p>
+
+<p>Thus jested the Grand Master; but his jests had lost
+their influence on the harassed mind of the Marquis, and,
+notwithstanding his attempts to seem gay, his gloom
+communicated itself to the Templar.</p>
+
+<p>"This craven," he thought, "will lose the day in pure
+faintness and cowardice of heart, which he calls tender
+conscience. I, whom visions and auguries shake not<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who
+am firm in my purpose as the living rock<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I should
+have fought the combat myself.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Would to God the
+Scot may strike him dead on the spot; it were next
+best to his winning the victory. But, come what will, he
+must have no other confessor than myself. Our sins are
+too much in common, and he might confess my share
+with his own."</p>
+
+<p>While these thoughts passed through his mind, he
+continued to assist the Marquis in arming, but it was in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>The hour at length arrived, the trumpets sounded, the
+knights rode into the lists armed at all points, and
+mounted like men who were to do battle for a kingdom's
+honor. They wore their visors up, and, riding around
+the lists three times, showed themselves to the spectators.
+Both were goodly persons, and both had noble countenances.
+But there was an air of manly confidence on the
+brow of the Scot, a radiancy of hope, which amounted
+even to cheerfulness, while, although pride and effort
+had recalled much of Conrade's natural courage, there
+lowered still on his brow a cloud of ominous despondence.
+Even his steed seemed to tread less lightly and blithely
+to the trumpet-sound than the noble Arab which was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+bestrode by Sir Kenneth; and the <i>spruch-sprecher</i> shook
+his head while he observed, that while the challenger
+rode around the lists in the course of the sun<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that is,
+from right to left<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the defender made the same circuit
+<i>widder-sins</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that is, from left to right<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>which is in most
+countries held ominous.</p>
+
+<p>A temporary altar was erected just beneath the gallery
+occupied by the Queen, and beside it stood the Hermit
+in the dress of his order, as a Carmelite friar. Other
+churchmen were also present. To this altar the challenger
+and defender were successively brought forward,
+conducted by their respective sponsors. Dismounting
+before it, each knight avouched the justice of his cause
+by a solemn oath on the Evangelists, and prayed that
+his success might be according to the truth or falsehood
+of what he then swore. They also made oath, that they
+came to do battle in knightly guise, and with the usual
+weapons, disclaiming the use of spells, charms, or magical
+devices, to incline victory to their side. The challenger
+pronounced his vow with a firm and manly voice, and a
+bold and cheerful countenance. When the ceremony
+was finished, the Scottish Knight looked at the gallery,
+and bent his head to the earth, as if in honor of those
+invisible beauties which were enclosed within; then,
+loaded with armor as he was, sprung to the saddle
+without the use of the stirrup, and made his courser
+carry him in a succession of caracoles to his station at
+the eastern extremity of the lists. Conrade also presented
+himself before the altar with boldness enough;
+but his voice, as he took the oath, sounded hollow, as if
+drowned in his helmet. The lips with which he appealed
+to Heaven to adjudge victory to the just quarrel, grew
+white as they uttered the impious mockery. As he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+turned to remount his horse, the Grand Master approached
+him closer, as if to rectify something about the
+sitting of his gorget, and whispered, "Coward and fool!
+recall thy senses, and do me this battle bravely; else,
+by Heaven, shouldst thou escape him, thou escapest not
+<i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>The savage tone in which this was whispered, perhaps
+completed the confusion of the Marquis's nerves, for he
+stumbled as he made to horse; and though he recovered
+his feet, sprung to the saddle with his usual agility, and
+displayed his address in horsemanship as he assumed his
+position opposite to the challenger's, yet the accident
+did not escape those who were on the watch for omens,
+which might predict the fate of the day.</p>
+
+<p>The priests, after a solemn prayer that God would
+show the rightful quarrel, departed from the lists. The
+trumpets of the challenger then rung a flourish, and the
+herald-at-arms proclaimed at the eastern end of the lists,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Here
+stands a good knight, Sir Kenneth of Scotland,
+champion for the royal King Richard of England, who
+accuseth Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat, of foul treason
+and dishonor done to the said King."</p>
+
+<p>When the words Kenneth of Scotland announced the
+name and character of the champion, hitherto scarce
+generally known, a loud and cheerful acclaim burst from
+the followers of King Richard, and hardly, notwithstanding
+repeated commands of silence, suffered the reply of
+the defendant to be heard. He, of course, avouched his
+innocence, and offered his body for battle. The esquires
+of the combatants now approached, and delivered to
+each his shield and lance, assisting to hang the former
+around his neck, that his two hands might remain free,
+one for the management of the bridle, the other to direct
+the lance.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>The shield of the Scot displayed his old bearing, the
+leopard, but with the addition of a collar and broken
+chain, in allusion to his late captivity. The shield of
+the Marquis bore, in reference to his title, a serrated and
+rocky mountain. Each shook his lance aloft, as if to
+ascertain the weight and toughness of the unwieldy
+weapon, and then laid it in the rest. The sponsors,
+heralds, and squires, now retired to the barriers, and the
+combatants sat opposite to each other, face to face, with
+couched lance and closed visor, the human form so completely
+enclosed, that they looked more like statues of
+molten iron than beings of flesh and blood. The silence
+of suspense was now general<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>men breathed thicker, and
+their very souls seemed seated in their eyes, while not a
+sound was to be heard save the snorting and pawing of
+the good steeds, who, sensible of what was about to
+happen, were impatient to dash into career. They stood
+thus for perhaps three minutes, when at a signal given
+by the Soldan, an hundred instruments rent the air with
+their brazen clamors, and each champion striking his
+horse with the spurs, and slacking the rein, the horses
+started into full gallop, and the knights met in mid space
+with a shock like a thunderbolt. The victory was not in
+doubt<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>no, not one moment. Conrade, indeed, showed
+himself a practised warrior; for he struck his antagonist
+knightly in the midst of his shield, bearing his lance so
+straight and true, that it shivered into splinters from the
+steel spear-head up to the very gauntlet. The horse of
+Sir Kenneth recoiled two or three yards and fell on his
+haunches, but the rider easily raised him with hand and
+rein. But for Conrade there was no recovery. Sir
+Kenneth's lance had pierced through the shield, through
+a plated corselet of Milan steel, through a <i>secret</i>, or coat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+of linked mail, worn beneath the corselet, had wounded
+him deep in the bosom, and borne him from his saddle,
+leaving the truncheon of the lance fixed in his wound.
+The sponsors, heralds, and Saladin himself, descending
+from his throne, crowded around the wounded man;
+while Sir Kenneth, who had drawn his sword ere yet he
+discovered his antagonist was totally helpless, now commanded
+him to avow his guilt. The helmet was hastily
+unclosed, and the wounded man, gazing wildly on the
+skies, replied, "What would you more? God hath
+decided justly. I am guilty<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but there are worse traitors
+in the camp than I.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>In pity to my soul, let me have a
+confessor!"</p>
+
+<p>He revived as he uttered these words.</p>
+
+<p>"The talisman<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the powerful remedy, royal brother,"
+said King Richard to Saladin.</p>
+
+<p>"The traitor," answered the Soldan, "is more fit to be
+dragged from the lists to the gallows by the heels, than
+to profit by its virtues: and some such fate is in his
+look," he added, after gazing fixedly upon the wounded
+man; "for though his wound may be cured, yet Azrael's
+seal is on the wretch's brow."</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless," said Richard, "I pray you do for him
+what you may, that he may at least have time for confession.
+Slay not soul and body! To him one half-hour
+of time may be worth more, by ten thousand fold, than
+the life of the oldest patriarch."</p>
+
+<p>"My royal brother's wish shall be obeyed," said
+Saladin.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Slaves, bear this wounded man to our tent."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not so," said the Templar, who had hitherto
+stood gloomily looking on in silence. "The royal Duke
+of Austria and myself will not permit this unhappy
+Christian prince to be delivered over to the Saracens,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+that they may try their spells upon him. We are his
+sponsors, and demand that he be assigned to our care."</p>
+
+<p>"That is, you refuse the certain means offered to recover
+him?" said Richard.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so," said the Grand Master, recollecting himself.
+"If the Soldan useth lawful medicines, he may attend
+the patient in my tent."</p>
+
+<p>"Do so, I pray thee, good brother," said Richard to
+Saladin, "though the permission be ungraciously yielded.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>But
+now to a more glorious work. Sound, trumpets<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>shout,
+England, in honor of England's champion!"</p>
+
+<p>Drum, clarion, trumpet, and cymbal, rung forth at
+once, and the deep and regular shout, which for ages has
+been the English acclamation, sounded amidst the shrill
+and irregular yells of the Arabs, like the diapason of the
+organ amid the howling of a storm. There was silence
+at length.</p>
+
+<p>"Brave Knight of the Leopard," resumed C<ins class="translit" title="oe ligature">&#339;</ins>ur de
+Lion, "thou hast shown that the Ethiopian <i>may</i> change
+his skin and the Leopard his spots, though clerks quote
+Scripture for the impossibility. Yet I have more to say
+to you when I have conducted you to the presence of
+the ladies, the best judges, and best rewarders, of deeds
+of chivalry."</p>
+
+<p>The Knight of the Leopard bowed assent.</p>
+
+<p>"And thou, princely Saladin, wilt also attend them.
+I promise thee our Queen will not think herself welcome,
+if she lacks the opportunity to thank her royal host for
+her most princely reception."</p>
+
+<p>Saladin bent his head gracefully, but declined the
+invitation.</p>
+
+<p>"I must attend the wounded man," he said. "The
+leech leaves not his patient more than the champion the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+lists, even if he be summoned to a bower like those of
+Paradise.... At noon," said the Soldan, as he departed,
+"I trust ye will all accept a collation under the
+black camel-skin tent of a chief of Curdistan."</p>
+
+<p>The same invitation was circulated among the Christians,
+comprehending all those of sufficient importance to
+be admitted to sit at a feast made for princes.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" said Richard, "the timbrels announce that
+our Queen and her attendants are leaving their gallery;
+and see, the turbans sink on the ground, as if struck
+down by a destroying angel. All lie prostrate, as if the
+glance of an Arab's eye could sully the lustre of a lady's
+cheek! Come, we will to the pavillion, and lead our
+conqueror thither in triumph. How I pity that noble
+Soldan, who knows but of love as it is known to those of
+inferior nature!"</p>
+
+<p>Blondel tuned his harp to its boldest measure, to
+welcome the introduction of the victor into the pavilion
+of Queen Berengaria. He entered, supported on either
+side by his sponsors, Richard and William Longsword,
+and knelt gracefully down before the Queen, though
+more than half the homage was silently rendered to
+Edith, who sat on her right hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Unarm him, my mistresses," said the King, whose
+delight was in the execution of such chivalrous usages;
+"let Beauty honor Chivalry! Undo his spurs, Berengaria;
+Queen though thou be, thou owest him what
+marks of favor thou canst give.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Unlace his helmet,
+Edith; by this hand, thou shalt, wert thou the proudest
+Plantagenet of the line, and he the poorest knight on
+earth!"</p>
+
+<p>Both ladies obeyed the royal commands,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Berengaria
+with bustling assiduity, as anxious to gratify her hus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>band's
+humor, and Edith blushing and growing pale
+alternately, as slowly and awkwardly she undid, with
+Longsword's assistance, the fastenings which secured the
+helmet to the gorget.</p>
+
+<p>"And what expect you from beneath this iron shell?"
+said Richard, as the removal of the casque gave to view
+the noble countenance of Sir Kenneth, his face glowing
+with recent exertion, and not less so with present emotion.
+"What think ye of him, gallants and beauties?" said
+Richard. "Doth he resemble an Ethiopian slave, or
+doth he present the face of an obscure and nameless
+adventurer? No, by my good sword! Here terminate
+his various disguises. He hath knelt down before you,
+unknown save by his worth; he arises, equally distinguished
+by birth and by fortune. The adventurous
+knight, Kenneth, arises David, Earl of Huntingdon,
+Prince Royal of Scotland!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a general exclamation of surprise, and
+Edith dropped from her hand the helmet which she had
+just received....</p>
+
+<p>"May we know of your grace by what strange and
+happy chance this riddle has been read?" said the Queen
+Berengaria.</p>
+
+<p>"Letters were brought to us from England," said the
+King, "in which we learned, among other unpleasant
+news, that the King of Scotland had seized upon three
+of our nobles, when on a pilgrimage to Saint Ninian,
+and alleged as a cause, that his heir being supposed to
+be fighting in the ranks of the Teutonic Knights, against
+the heathen of Borussia, was, in fact, in our camp and in
+our power; and, therefore, William proposed to hold
+these nobles as hostages for his safety. This gave me
+the first light on the real rank of the Knight of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
+Leopard, and my suspicions were confirmed by De Vaux,
+who, on his return from Ascalon, brought back with him
+the Earl of Huntingdon's sole attendant, a thick-skulled
+slave, who had gone thirty miles to unfold to De Vaux
+a secret he should have told to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Old Strauchan must be excused," said the Lord of
+Gilsland. "He knew from experience that my heart is
+somewhat softer than if I wrote myself Plantagenet."</p>
+
+<p>"Thy heart soft? thou commodity of old iron, and
+Cumberland flint that thou art!" exclaimed the King.
+"It is we Plantagenets who boast soft and feeling hearts,
+Edith," he continued, turning to his cousin, with an expression
+which called the blood into her cheek.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Give
+me thy hand, my fair cousin, and, Prince of Scotland,
+thine."...</p>
+
+<p>It is needless to follow into further particulars the
+conferences at the royal tent, or to enquire whether
+David, Earl of Huntingdon, was as mute in the presence
+of Edith Plantagenet, as when he was bound to act under
+the character of an obscure and nameless adventurer.
+It may be well believed that he there expressed, with
+suitable earnestness, the passion to which he had so often
+before found it difficult to give words.</p>
+
+<p>The hour of noon now approached, and Saladin waited
+to receive the Princes of Christendom in a tent, which,
+but for its large size, differed little from that of the
+ordinary shelter of the common Curdman, or Arab; yet,
+beneath its ample and sable covering, was prepared a
+banquet after the most gorgeous fashion of the East,
+extended upon carpets of the richest stuffs, with cushions
+laid for the guests. But we cannot stop to describe the
+cloth of gold and silver, the superb embroidery in Arabesque,
+the shawls of Cashmere, and the muslins of India,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
+which were here unfolded in all their splendor; far less
+to tell the different sweetmeats, ragouts edged with rice
+colored in various manners, with all the other niceties of
+Eastern cookery. Lambs roasted whole, and game and
+poultry dressed in pilaus, were piled in vessels of gold,
+and silver, and porcelain, and intermixed with large
+mazers of sherbet, cooled in snow and ice from the caverns
+of Mount Lebanon. A magnificent pile of cushions at
+the head of the banquet, seemed prepared for the master
+of the feast, and such dignitaries as he might call to
+share that place of distinction, while from the roof of the
+tent in all quarters, but over this seat of eminence in
+particular, waved many a banner and pennon, the trophies
+of battles won, and kingdoms overthrown. But amongst
+and above them all, a long lance displayed a shroud,
+the banner of Death, with this impressive inscription,
+"<span class="smcap">Saladin, King of Kings</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Saladin, Victor of
+Victors</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Saladin must die</span>." Amid these preparations,
+the slaves who had arranged the refreshments
+stood with drooped heads and folded arms, mute and
+motionless as monumental statuary, or as automata,
+which waited the touch of the artist to put them in
+motion.</p>
+
+<p>Expecting the approach of his princely guests, the
+Soldan, imbued, as most were, with the superstitions of
+his time, paused over a horoscope and corresponding
+scroll, which had been sent to him by the Hermit of
+Engaddi when he departed from the camp.</p>
+
+<p>"Strange and mysterious science," he muttered to
+himself, "which, pretending to draw the curtain of
+futurity, misleads those whom it seems to guide, and
+darkens the scene which it pretends to illuminate! Who
+would not have said that I was that enemy most danger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>ous
+to Richard, whose enmity was to be ended by
+marriage with his kinswoman? Yet it now appears that
+a union betwixt this gallant Earl and the lady will bring
+about friendship betwixt Richard and Scotland, an enemy
+more dangerous than I, as a wild cat in a chamber is
+more to be dreaded than a lion in a distant desert.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>But
+then,...<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>How now, what means this intrusion?"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke to the dwarf Nectabanus, who rushed into
+the tent fearfully agitated, with each strange and disproportioned
+feature wrenched by horror into still more
+extravagant ugliness,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>his mouth open, his eyes staring,
+his hands, with their shrivelled and deformed fingers,
+wildly expanded.</p>
+
+<p>"What now?" said the Soldan, sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Accipe hoc!</i>" groaned out the dwarf.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! say'st thou?" answered Saladin.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Accipe hoc!</i>" replied the panic-struck creature, unconscious,
+perhaps, that he repeated the same words as
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"Hence! I am in no vein for foolery," said the
+Emperor.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor am I further fool," said the dwarf, "than to make
+my folly help out my wits to earn my bread, poor helpless
+wretch!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Hear, hear me, great Soldan!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, if thou hast actual wrong to complain of," said
+Saladin, "fool or wise, thou art entitled to the ear of a
+King.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Retire hither with me;" and he led him into the
+inner tent.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever their conference related to, it was soon
+broken off by the fanfare of the trumpets, announcing
+the arrival of the various Christian princes, whom Saladin
+welcomed to his tent with a royal courtesy well becoming
+their rank and his own; but chiefly he saluted the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
+Earl of Huntingdon, and generously congratulated him
+upon prospects, which seemed to have interfered with
+and overclouded those which he had himself entertained.</p>
+
+<p>"But think not," said the Soldan, "thou noble youth,
+that the Prince of Scotland is more welcome to Saladin,
+than was Kenneth to the solitary Ilderim when they met
+in the desert, or the distressed Ethiop to the Hakim
+Adonbec. A brave and generous disposition like thine
+hath a value independent of condition and birth, as the
+cool draught which I here proffer thee, is as delicious
+from an earthen vessel as from a goblet of gold."</p>
+
+<p>The Earl of Huntingdon made a suitable reply, gratefully
+acknowledging the various important services he
+had received from the generous Soldan; but when he had
+pledged Saladin in the bowl of sherbet which the Soldan
+had proffered to him, he could not help remarking with
+a smile, "The brave cavalier, Ilderim, knew not of the
+formation of ice, but the munificent Soldan cools his
+sherbet with snow."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldst thou have an Arab or a Curdman as wise as
+a Hakim?" said the Soldan. "He who does on a disguise
+must make the sentiments of his heart and the
+learning of his head accord with the dress which he
+assumes. I desired to see how a brave and single-hearted
+cavalier of Frangistan would conduct himself in debate
+with such a chief as I then seemed; and I questioned
+the truth of a well-known fact, to know by what arguments
+thou wouldst support thy assertion."</p>
+
+<p>While they were speaking, the Archduke of Austria,
+who stood a little apart, was struck with the mention of
+iced sherbet, and took with pleasure and some bluntness
+the deep goblet, as the Earl of Huntingdon was about to
+replace it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>"Most delicious!" he exclaimed, after a deep draught,
+which the heat of the weather, and the feverishness
+following the debauch of the preceding day, had rendered
+doubly acceptable. He sighed as he handed the cup to
+the Grand Master of the Templars. Saladin made a
+sign to the dwarf, who advanced and pronounced, with
+a harsh voice, the words, <i>Accipe hoc!</i> The Templar
+started, like a steed who sees a lion under a bush, beside
+the pathway; yet instantly recovered, and to hide, perhaps,
+his confusion, raised the goblet to his lips;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but
+those lips never touched that goblet's rim. The sabre of
+Saladin left its sheath as lightning leaves the cloud. It
+was waved in the air,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and the head of the Grand Master
+rolled to the extremity of the tent, while the trunk remained,
+for a second, standing, with the goblet still
+clenched in its grasp, then fell, the liquor mingling with
+the blood that spurted from the veins.</p>
+
+<p>There was a general exclamation of treason, and
+Austria, nearest to whom Saladin stood with the bloody
+sabre in his hand, started back as if apprehensive that
+his turn was to come next. Richard and others laid
+hand on their swords.</p>
+
+<p>"Fear nothing, noble Austria," said Saladin, as composedly
+as if nothing had happened, "nor you, royal
+England, be wroth at what you have seen. Not for his
+manifold treasons;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>not for the attempt which, as may
+be vouched by his own squire, he instigated against King
+Richard's life;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>not that he pursued the Prince of Scotland
+and myself in the desert, reducing us to save our
+lives by the speed of our horses;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>not that he had
+stirred up the Maronites to attack us upon this very
+occasion, had I not brought up unexpectedly so many
+Arabs as rendered the scheme abortive;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>not for any or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
+all of these crimes does he now lie there, although each
+were deserving such a doom;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but because, scarce half-an-hour
+ere he polluted our presence, as the simoom
+empoisons the atmosphere, he poniarded his comrade
+and accomplice, Conrade of Montserrat, lest he should
+confess the infamous plots in which they had both been
+engaged."</p>
+
+<p>"How! Conrade murdered?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>And by the Grand
+Master, his sponsor and most intimate friend!" exclaimed
+Richard. "Noble Soldan, I would not doubt thee; yet
+this must be proved; otherwise"<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins></p>
+
+<p>"There stands the evidence," said Saladin, pointing to
+the terrified dwarf. "Allah, who sends the fire-fly to
+illuminate the night-season, can discover secret crimes
+by the most contemptible means."</p>
+
+<p>The Soldan proceeded to tell the dwarf's story, which
+amounted to this.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>In his foolish curiosity, or as he
+partly confessed, with some thoughts of pilfering, Nectabanus
+had strayed into the tent of Conrade, which had
+been deserted by his attendants, some of whom had left
+the encampment to carry the news of his defeat to his
+brother, and others were availing themselves of the means
+which Saladin had supplied for revelling. The wounded
+man slept under the influence of Saladin's wonderful
+talisman, so that the dwarf had opportunity to pry about
+at pleasure, until he was frightened into concealment by
+the sound of a heavy step. He skulked behind a curtain,
+yet could see the motions, and hear the words of the Grand
+Master, who entered, and carefully secured the covering
+of the pavillion behind him. His victim started from
+sleep, and it would appear that he instantly suspected
+the purpose of his old associate, for it was in a tone of
+alarm that he demanded wherefore he disturbed him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>"I come to confess and absolve thee," answered the
+Grand Master.</p>
+
+<p>Of their further speech the terrified dwarf remembered
+little, save that Conrade implored the Grand Master not
+to break a wounded reed, and that the Templar struck
+him to the heart with a Turkish dagger, with the words
+<i>Accipe hoc</i>,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>words which long afterward haunted the
+terrified imagination of the concealed witness.</p>
+
+<p>"I verified the tale," said Saladin, "by causing the
+body to be examined; and I made this unhappy being,
+whom Allah hath made the discoverer of the crime,
+repeat in your own presence the words which the murderer
+spoke, and you yourselves saw the effect which
+they produced upon his conscience."</p>
+
+<p>The Soldan paused, and the King of England broke
+silence:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p>"If this be true, as I doubt not, we have witnessed a
+great act of justice, though it bore a different aspect.
+But wherefore in this presence? wherefore with thine
+own hand?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had designed otherwise," said Saladin, "but had I
+not hastened his doom, it had been altogether averted,
+since, if I had permitted him to taste of my cup, as he
+was about to do, how could I, without incurring the
+brand of inhospitality, have done him to death as he
+deserved? Had he murdered my father, and afterward
+partaken of my food and my bowl, not a hair of his head
+could have been injured by me. But enough of him; let
+his carcass and his memory be removed from amongst
+us."</p>
+
+<p>The body was carried away, and the marks of the
+slaughter obliterated or concealed with such ready dexterity,
+as showed that the case was not altogether so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
+uncommon, as to paralyze the assistants and officers of
+Saladin's household.</p>
+
+<p>But the Christian princes felt that the scene which
+they had beheld weighed heavily on their spirits, and
+although, at the courteous invitation of the Soldan, they
+assumed their seats at the banquet, yet it was with the
+silence of doubt and amazement. The spirits of Richard
+alone surmounted all cause for suspicion or embarrassment.
+Yet he, too, seemed to ruminate on some proposition,
+as if he were desirous of making it in the most
+insinuating and acceptable manner which was possible.
+At length he drank off a large bowl of wine, and
+addressing the Soldan, desired to know whether it was
+not true that he had honored the Earl of Huntingdon
+with a personal encounter.</p>
+
+<p>Saladin answered with a smile, that he had proved his
+horse and his weapons with the heir of Scotland, as
+cavaliers are wont to do with each other when they meet
+in the desert; and modestly added that, though the
+combat was not entirely decisive, he had not, on his
+part, much reason to pride himself on the event. The
+Scot, on the other hand, disclaimed the attributed
+superiority, and wished to assign it to the Soldan.</p>
+
+<p>"Enough of honor thou hast had in the encounter,"
+said Richard, "and I envy thee more for that, than for
+the smiles of Edith Plantagenet, though one of them
+might reward a bloody day's work.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>But what say you,
+noble princes; is it fitting that such a royal ring of
+chivalry should break up without something being done
+for future times to speak of? What is the overthrow
+and death of a traitor, to such a fair garland of honor as
+is here assembled, and which ought not to part without
+witnessing something more worthy of their regard?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+How say you, princely Soldan; what if we two should
+now, and before this fair company, decide the long-contended
+question for this land of Palestine, and end at
+once these tedious wars? Yonder are the lists ready,
+nor can Paynimrie ever hope a better champion than
+thou. I, unless worthier offers, will lay down my gauntlet
+in behalf of Christendom, and, in all love and honor,
+we will do mortal battle for the possession of Jerusalem."</p>
+
+<p>There was a deep pause for the Soldan's answer. His
+cheek and brow colored highly, and it was the opinion
+of many present that he hesitated whether he should
+accept the challenge. At length he said: "Fighting for
+the Holy City against those whom we regard as idolaters,
+and worshippers of stocks and stones, and graven images,
+I might confide that Allah would strengthen my arm; or
+if I fell beneath the sword of the Melech Ric, I could not
+pass to Paradise by a more glorious death. But Allah
+has already given Jerusalem to the true believers, and it
+were a tempting the God of the Prophet to peril, upon
+my own personal strength and skill, that which I hold
+securely by the superiority of my forces."</p>
+
+<p>"If not for Jerusalem, then," said Richard, in the tone
+of one who would entreat a favor of an intimate friend,
+"yet, for the love of honor, let us run at least three courses
+with grinded lances."</p>
+
+<p>"Even this," said Saladin, half smiling at C<ins class="translit" title="oe ligature">&#339;</ins>ur de
+Lion's affectionate earnestness for the combat, "even this
+I may not lawfully do. The Master places the shepherd
+over the flock, not for the shepherd's own sake, but for
+the sake of the sheep. Had I a son to hold the sceptre
+when I fell, I might have had the liberty, as I have the
+will, to brave this bold encounter; but your own Scripture
+sayeth, that when the herdsman is smitten, the sheep are
+scattered."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>"Thou hast had all the fortune," said Richard, turning
+to the Earl of Huntingdon with a sigh. "I would have
+given the best year of my life for that one half-hour
+beside the Diamond of the Desert!"</p>
+
+<p>The chivalrous extravagance of Richard awakened the
+spirits of the assembly, and when at length they arose to
+depart, Saladin advanced and took C<ins class="translit" title="oe ligature">&#339;</ins>ur de Lion by the
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Noble King of England," he said, "we now part, never
+to meet again. That your league is dissolved, no more
+to be reunited, and that your native forces are far too
+few to enable you to prosecute your enterprise, is as well
+known to me as to yourself. I may not yield you up
+that Jerusalem which you so much desire to hold. It is
+to us, as to you, a Holy City. But whatever other terms
+Richard demands of Saladin, shall be as willingly yielded
+as yonder fountain yields its waters. Ay, and the same
+should be as frankly afforded by Saladin, if Richard stood
+in the desert with but two archers in his train!"<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_I_46" id="Footnote_I_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_46"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> While the army of the crusaders was inactive near Ascalon, a truce having
+been agreed to between the Saracens and their assailants, the Grand Master of
+the Templars, Conrade Marquis of Montserrat, and others of the Christian
+Princes, were plotting to effect its dismemberment. Richard of England was
+the leading spirit of the crusade, and the plotters wished either to get rid of
+him or to inspire his colleagues with jealousy of his leadership. The Grand
+Master sought to have the King assassinated. Conrade tried to break up the
+league by milder means: he first provoked the Duke of Austria to insult the
+English banner; and then thinking rightly that the suspicion and wrath of
+Richard would fall upon Austria, he secretly stole the banner from its place.
+Its safe-keeping, after Austria's insult, had been entrusted by the King to Sir
+Kenneth, known as the Knight of the Leopard, in reality David Prince of
+Scotland, who in the disguise of an obscure gentleman had joined the crusade
+as a follower of the English King. Sir Kenneth was innocently decoyed from
+his watch, and in his absence, the banner, left with but his dog to guard it, was
+stolen by Conrade. For his failure of duty. Sir Kenneth was condemned to
+immediate death, but Saladin, who in the disguise of an Arab physician was in
+the English camp, and who had rescued the King from death by fever, urgently
+interceding, his life was spared. Saladin took Sir Kenneth to the camp of the
+Saracens, and knowing his worth and valor, having previously had knightly
+encounter with him in the desert, disguised him as a Nubian slave, and sent
+him as a present to Richard with the hope that he might in some way discover
+by whom the banner had been stolen. Attending Richard as a slave Sir Kenneth
+saved the king from the assassination which the Grand Master had instigated,
+and aided by the instinct of his dog, also disguised, he detected the thief
+in Conrade. Richard thereupon, at once charged Conrade with the theft, and
+challenged him to mortal combat. The King was prevented by the Council of
+the Princes from fighting in person, but having divined in the Nubian slave the
+former Knight of the Leopard, he permitted Sir Kenneth to fight in his stead,
+that the knight might atone for the dishonor of being faithless in his watch.
+Conrade's cause was espoused by the Grand Master, who had been his confidant,
+and by the Duke of Austria. The encounter was appointed to take place at the
+Diamond of the Desert, in the territory of Saladin, who was asked to act as
+umpire. It had been stipulated that but five hundred Saracens should be present
+at the trial; Saladin, however, having been apprised of further plotting on the
+part of the Grand Master, for safety's sake caused a larger attendance of his followers.
+Sir Kenneth had long loved Edith Plantagenet, but being known to her
+only as a poor and nameless adventurer, he had not yet openly avowed his love.</p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxxi" id="xxxi"></a><a href="#anchor_xxxi">XXXI</a>. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<span class="smcap">At Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond</span>.)</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1770-1850.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 370px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Sweet</span> Highland girl, a very shower<br />
+Of beauty is thy earthly dower!<br />
+Twice seven consenting years have shed<br />
+Their utmost bounty on thy head:<br />
+And these gray rocks; this household lawn;<br />
+These trees, a veil just half withdrawn;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+This fall of water, that doth make<br />
+A murmur near the silent lake;<br />
+This little bay, a quiet road<br />
+That holds in shelter thy abode;<br />
+In truth, together do ye seem<br />
+Like something fashion'd in a dream;<br />
+Such forms as from their covert peep<br />
+When earthly cares are laid asleep!<br />
+Yet, dream and vision as thou art,<br />
+I bless thee with a human heart:<br />
+God shield thee to thy latest years!<br />
+Thee neither know I nor thy peers;<br />
+And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 1em;">With earnest feeling I shall pray</span><br />
+For thee when I am far away:<br />
+For never saw I mien, or face,<br />
+In which more plainly I could trace<br />
+Benignity and home-bred sense<br />
+Ripening in perfect innocence.<br />
+Here scatter'd like a random seed,<br />
+Remote from men, thou dost not need<br />
+The embarrass'd look of shy distress,<br />
+And maidenly shamefac<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>dness:<br />
+Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear<br />
+The freedom of a mountaineer:<br />
+A face with gladness overspread!<br />
+Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!<br />
+And seemliness complete, that sways<br />
+Thy courtesies, about thee plays;<br />
+With no restraint, but such as springs<br />
+From quick and eager visitings<br />
+Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach<br />
+Of thy few words of English speech:<br />
+A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife<br />
+That gives thy gestures grace and life!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>So have I, not unmov'd in mind,<br />
+Seen birds of tempest-loving kind,<br />
+Thus beating up against the wind.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">What hand but would a garland cull</span><br />
+For thee who art so beautiful?<br />
+O happy pleasure! here to dwell<br />
+Beside thee in some heathy dell;<br />
+Adopt your homely ways, and dress,<br />
+A shepherd, thou a shepherdess!<br />
+But I could frame a wish for thee<br />
+More like a grave reality:<br />
+Thou art to me but as a wave<br />
+Of the wild sea; and I would have<br />
+Some claim upon thee, if I could,<br />
+Though but of common neighborhood.<br />
+What joy to hear thee, and to see!<br />
+Thy elder brother I would be,<br />
+Thy father, anything to thee!</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace</span><br />
+Hath led me to this lonely place.<br />
+Joy have I had; and going hence<br />
+I bear away my recompense.<br />
+In spots like these it is we prize<br />
+Our memory, feel that she hath eyes:<br />
+Then, why should I be loth to stir?<br />
+I feel this place was made for her;<br />
+To give new pleasure like the past,<br />
+Continued long as life shall last.<br />
+Nor am I loth, though pleas'd at heart,<br />
+Sweet Highland girl! from thee to part;<br />
+For I, methinks, till I grow old,<br />
+As fair before me shall behold,<br />
+As I do now, the cabin small,<br />
+The lake, the bay, the waterfall;<br />
+And thee, the spirit of them all!</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxxii" id="xxxii"></a><a href="#anchor_xxxii">XXXII</a>. FRANCE: AN ODE.</h2>
+
+<h4>(1797.)</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1772-1834.</h4>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 490px;">
+
+<p>I.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Ye</span> Clouds! that far above me float and pause,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Whose pathless march no mortal may control!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll,</span><br />
+Yield homage only to eternal laws!<br />
+Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclin'd,</span><br />
+Save when your own imperious branches, swinging,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Have made a solemn music of the wind!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Where, like a man belov'd of God,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Through glooms, which never woodman trod,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">How oft, pursuing fancies holy,</span><br />
+My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Inspir'd, beyond the guess of folly,</span><br />
+By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!<br />
+O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And O ye Clouds that far above me soar'd!</span><br />
+Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!<br />
+Yea, every thing that is and will be free!<br />
+Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With what deep worship I have still ador'd</span><br />
+The spirit of divinest Liberty.</p>
+
+<p>II.</p>
+
+<p>When France in wrath her giant-limbs uprear'd,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Stamp'd her strong foot and said she would be free,</span><br />
+Bear witness for me, how I hoped and fear'd!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>
+With what a joy my lofty gratulation<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Unaw'd I sang, amid a slavish band;</span><br />
+And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The Monarchs march'd in evil day,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And Britain join'd the dire array,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Though dear her shores and circling ocean,</span><br />
+Though many friendships, many youthful loves,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Had swoll'n the patriot emotion,</span><br />
+And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves;<br />
+Yet still my voice, unalter'd, sang defeat<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To all that brav'd the tyrant-quelling lance,</span><br />
+And shame too long delay'd and vain retreat!<br />
+For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim<br />
+I dimm'd thy light or damp'd thy holy flame;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But bless'd the </span>p<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>ans of deliver'd France,<br />
+And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.</p>
+
+<p>III.</p>
+
+<p>"And what," I said, "though Blasphemy's loud scream<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With that sweet music of deliverance strove!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove</span><br />
+A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream!<br />
+Ye Storms, that round the dawning east assembled,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!"</span><br />
+And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The dissonance ceas'd, and all seem'd calm and bright;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Conceal'd with clustering wreaths of glory;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">When, insupportably advancing,</span><br />
+Her arm made mockery of the warrior's tramp,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">While, timid looks of fury glancing,</span><br />
+Domestic treason, crush'd beneath her fatal stamp,<br />
+Writh'd like a wounded dragon in his gore:<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Then I reproach'd my fears that would not flee;</span><br />
+"And soon," I said, "shall Wisdom teach her lore<br />
+In the low huts of them that toil and groan!<br />
+And, conquering by her happiness alone,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shall France compel the nations to be free,</span><br />
+Till Love and Joy look round, and call the earth their own."</p>
+
+<p>IV.</p>
+
+<p>Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From bleak Helvetia's icy cavern sent,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I hear thy groans upon her blood-stain'd streams!<br />
+Heroes, that for your peaceful country perish'd,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows</span><br />
+With bleeding wounds, forgive me, that I cherish'd<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">One thought that ever bless'd your cruel foes!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Where Peace her jealous home had built;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A patriot-race to disinherit</span><br />
+Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And with inexpiable spirit</span><br />
+To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And patriot only in pernicious toils,</span><br />
+Are these thy boasts, champion of human kind?<br />
+To mix with kings in the low lust of sway,<br />
+Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils</span><br />
+From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?</p>
+
+<p>V.</p>
+
+<p>The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They burst their manacles and wear the name</span><br />
+Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+O Liberty! with profitless endeavor<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour;</span><br />
+But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">(Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee),</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions,</span><br />
+And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions,</span><br />
+The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves!<br />
+And there I felt thee!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>on that sea-cliff's verge,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Whose pines, scarce travell'd by the breeze above,</span><br />
+Had made one murmur with the distant surge!<br />
+Yes, while I stood and gaz'd, my temples bare,<br />
+And shot my being through earth, sea, and air,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Possessing all things with intensest love,</span><br />
+O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxxiii" id="xxxiii"></a><a href="#anchor_xxxiii">XXXIII</a>. COMPLAINT AND REPROOF.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Coleridge</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 480px;">
+
+<p>I.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">How</span> seldom, friend! a good great man inherits<br />
+Honor or wealth, with all his worth and pains!<br />
+It sounds like stories from the land of spirits,<br />
+If any man obtain that which he merits,<br />
+Or any merit that which he obtains.</p>
+
+<p>II.</p>
+
+<p>For shame, dear friend! renounce this canting strain!<br />
+What wouldst thou have a good great man obtain?<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
+Place<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>titles<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>salary<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a gilded chain<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Or throne of corses which his sword hath slain?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Greatness and goodness are not means but ends!<br />
+Hath he not always treasures, always friends,<br />
+The good great man?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>three treasures,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>love, and light,<br />
+And calm thoughts, regular as infant's breath;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+And three firm friends, more sure than day and night,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxxiv" id="xxxiv"></a><a href="#anchor_xxxiv">XXXIV</a>. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Robert Southey</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1774-1843.</p>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 440px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">A well</span> there is in the west country,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And a clearer one never was seen;</span><br />
+There is not a wife in the west country<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And behind doth an ash-tree grow,</span><br />
+And a willow from the bank above<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Droops to the water below.</span></p>
+
+<p>A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Joyfully he drew nigh;</span><br />
+For from cock-crow he had been travelling,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And there was not a cloud in the sky.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>He drank of the water so cool and clear,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">For thirsty and hot was he;</span><br />
+And he sat down upon the bank<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Under the willow-tree.</span></p>
+
+<p>There came a man from the house hard by,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">At the well to fill his pail;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
+On the well-side he rested it,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And he bade the stranger hail.</span></p>
+
+<p>"Now, art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth he;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"For, an if thou hast a wife,</span><br />
+The happiest draught thou hast drank this day<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That ever thou didst in thy life.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>"Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Ever here in Cornwall been?</span><br />
+For, an if she have, I'll venture my life<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She has drank of the Well of St. Keyne."</span></p>
+
+<p>"I have left a good woman who never was here,"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The stranger he made reply;</span><br />
+"But that my draught should be the better for that,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I pray you answer me why."</span></p>
+
+<p>"St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish-man, "many a time<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Drank of this crystal well;</span><br />
+And, before the angel summon'd her,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She laid on the water a spell,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p>"If the husband of this gifted well<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shall drink before his wife,</span><br />
+A happy man thenceforth is he,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">For he shall be master for life;</span></p>
+
+<p>"But if the wife should drink of it first,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">God help the husband then!"</span><br />
+The stranger stoop'd to the Well of St. Keyne,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And drank of the water again.</span></p>
+
+<p>"You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes?"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He to the Cornish-man said;</span><br />
+But the Cornish-man smiled as the stranger spake,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And sheepishly shook his head:</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+"I hasten'd, as soon as the wedding was done,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And left my wife in the porch;</span><br />
+But i' faith she had been wiser than me,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">For she took a bottle to church."</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxxv" id="xxxv"></a><a href="#anchor_xxxv">XXXV</a>. THE ISLES OF GREECE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lord Byron</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1788-1824.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 380px;">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Where burning Sappho lov'd and sung,</span><br />
+Where grew the arts of war and peace,<br />
+Where Delos rose, and Ph<ins class="translit" title="oe ligature">&#339;</ins>bus sprung!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Eternal summer gilds them yet,</span><br />
+But all, except their sun, is set.</p>
+
+<p>The Scian and the Teian muse,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The hero's harp, the lover's lute,</span><br />
+Have found the fame your shores refuse:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Their place of birth alone is mute</span><br />
+To sounds which echo further west<br />
+Than your sires' "Islands of the Blest."</p>
+
+<p>The mountains look on Marathon<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And Marathon looks on the sea;</span><br />
+And musing there an hour alone,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I dream'd that Greece might still be free;</span><br />
+For standing on the Persians' grave,<br />
+I could not deem myself a slave.</p>
+
+<p>A king sate on the rocky brow<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;</span><br />
+And ships, by thousands, lay below,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And men in nations;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>all were his!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+He counted them at break of day<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+And when the sun set, where were they?</p>
+
+<p>And where are they? and where art thou,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">My country? On thy voiceless shore</span><br />
+The heroic lay is tuneless now<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The heroic bosom beats no more!</span><br />
+And must thy lyre, so long divine,<br />
+Degenerate into hands like mine?</p>
+
+<p>'Tis something, in the dearth of fame,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Though link'd among a fetter'd race,</span><br />
+To feel at least a patriot's shame,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Even as I sing, suffuse my face;</span><br />
+For what is left the poet here?<br />
+For Greeks a blush<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for Greece a tear.</p>
+
+<p>Must <i>we</i> but weep o'er days more blest?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Must <i>we</i> but blush?</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Our fathers bled.<br />
+Earth! render back from out thy breast<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A remnant of our Spartan dead!<br />
+Of the three hundred grant but three,</span><br />
+To make a new Thermopyl<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>!</p>
+
+<p>What, silent still? and silent all?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Ah! no;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the voices of the dead<br />
+Sound like a distant torrent's fall,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And answer, "Let one living head,</span><br />
+But one, arise,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>we come, we come!"<br />
+'Tis but the living who are dumb.</p>
+
+<p>In vain<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in vain: strike other chords;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Fill high the cup with Samian wine!</span><br />
+Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And shed the blood of Scio's vine!</span><br />
+Hark! rising to the ignoble call<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+How answers each bold Bacchanal!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?</span><br />
+Of two such lessons, why forget<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The nobler and the manlier one?</span><br />
+You have the letters Cadmus gave<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Think ye he meant them for a slave?</p>
+
+<p>Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">We will not think of themes like these!<br />
+It made Anacreon's song divine:</span><br />
+He served<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but served Polycrates<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+A tyrant; but our masters then<br />
+Were still, at least, our countrymen.</p>
+
+<p>The tyrant of the Chersonese<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Was freedom's best and bravest friend;</span><br />
+<i>That</i> tyrant was Miltiades!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Oh! that the present hour would lend</span><br />
+Another despot of the kind!<br />
+Such chains as his were sure to bind.</p>
+
+<p>Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore,</span><br />
+Exists the remnant of a line<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Such as the Doric mothers bore;</span><br />
+And there, perhaps, some seed is sown,<br />
+The Heracleidan blood might own.</p>
+
+<p>Trust not for freedom to the Franks<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They have a king who buys and sells:</span><br />
+In native swords, and native ranks,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The only hope of courage dwells;</span><br />
+But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,<br />
+Would break your shield, however broad.</p>
+
+<p>Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Our virgins dance beneath the shade</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+I see their glorious black eyes shine;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But gazing on each glowing maid,</span><br />
+My own the burning tear-drop laves,<br />
+To think such breasts must suckle slaves.</p>
+
+<p>Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Where nothing, save the waves and I,</span><br />
+May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">There, swan-like, let me sing and die:</span><br />
+A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxxvi" id="xxxvi"></a><a href="#anchor_xxxvi">XXXVI</a>. GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas Moore</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1779-1852.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 260px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Go</span> where glory waits thee;<br />
+But, while fame elates thee,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O, still remember me!</span><br />
+When the praise thou meetest<br />
+To thine ear is sweetest,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O, then remember me!</span><br />
+Other arms may press thee,<br />
+Dearer friends caress thee,<br />
+All the joys that bless thee<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Sweeter far may be;</span><br />
+But when friends are nearest,<br />
+And when joys are dearest,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O, then remember me!</span></p>
+
+<p>When, at eve, thou rovest<br />
+By the star thou lovest,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O, then remember me!</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
+Think, when home returning,<br />
+Bright we've seen it burning,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O, thus remember me!</span><br />
+Oft as summer closes,<br />
+When thine eye reposes<br />
+On its lingering roses,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Once so lov'd by thee,</span><br />
+Think of her who wove them,<br />
+Her who made thee love them,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O, then remember me!</span></p>
+
+<p>When, around thee dying,<br />
+Autumn leaves are lying,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O, then remember me!</span><br />
+And, at night, when gazing<br />
+On the gay hearth blazing,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O, still remember me!</span><br />
+Then, should music, stealing<br />
+All the soul of feeling,<br />
+To thy heart appealing,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Draw one tear from thee;</span><br />
+Then let memory bring thee<br />
+Strains I used to sing thee,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O, then remember me!</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxxvii" id="xxxvii"></a><a href="#anchor_xxxvii">XXXVII</a>. DEAR HARP OF MY COUNTRY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Moore</span>.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 480px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear</span> Harp of my Country! in darkness I found thee,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long,</span><br />
+When proudly, my own Island Harp, I unbound thee,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song!</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
+The warm lay of love and the light note of gladness<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Have waken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill;</span><br />
+But, so oft hast thou echo'd the deep sigh of sadness,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That ev'n in thy mirth it will steal from thee still.</span></p>
+
+<p>Dear Harp of my Country! farewell to thy numbers,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine!</span><br />
+Go, sleep with the sunshine of fame on thy slumbers,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine;</span></p>
+
+<p>If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone;</span><br />
+I was <i>but</i> as the wind, passing heedlessly over,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And all the wild sweetness I waked was thy own.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxxviii" id="xxxviii"></a><a href="#anchor_xxxviii">XXXVIII</a>. COME, YE DISCONSOLATE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Moore</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 480px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Come</span>, ye disconsolate, where'er you languish,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Come, at God's altar fervently kneel;</span><br />
+Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure,</span><br />
+Here speaks the Comforter, in God's name saying,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure."</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>Go, ask the infidel, what boon he brings us,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">What charm for aching hearts <i>he</i> can reveal,</span><br />
+Sweet as that heavenly promise Hope sings us,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Earth has no sorrow that God cannot heal."</span><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xxxix" id="xxxix"></a><a href="#anchor_xxxix">XXXIX</a>. ON A LOCK OF MILTON'S HAIR.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Leigh Hunt</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1784-1859.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 400px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> lies before me there, and my own breath<br />
+Stirs its thin outer threads, as though beside<br />
+The living head I stood in honor'd pride,<br />
+Talking of lovely things that conquer death.<br />
+Perhaps he press'd it once, or underneath<br />
+Ran his fine fingers, when he leant, blank-ey'd,<br />
+And saw, in fancy, Adam and his bride<br />
+With their rich locks, or his own Delphic wreath.<br />
+There seems a love in hair, though it be dead.<br />
+It is the gentlest, yet the strongest thread<br />
+Of our frail plant,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a blossom from the tree<br />
+Surviving the proud trunk;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>as though it said<br />
+Patience and gentleness is power; in me<br />
+Behold affectionate eternity.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xl" id="xl"></a><a href="#anchor_xl">XL</a>. THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Leigh Hunt</span>.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 550px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">King Francis</span> was a hearty king, and lov'd a royal sport,<br />
+And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the court:<br />
+The nobles fill'd the benches round, the ladies by their side,<br />
+And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">his bride;</span><br />
+And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,<br />
+Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.</p>
+
+<p>Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;<br />
+They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">their paws;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
+With wallowing might and stifled roar they roll'd one on another,<br />
+Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thund'rous smother;<br />
+The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air;<br />
+Said Francis then, "Good gentlemen, we're better here than<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">there!"</span></p>
+
+<p>De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous, lively dame,<br />
+With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, which always seem'd<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">the same:</span><br />
+She thought, "The Count, my lover, is as brave as brave can be;<br />
+He surely would do desperate things to show his love of me!<br />
+King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the chance is wondrous fine;<br />
+I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory will be mine!"</p>
+
+<p>She dropp'd her glove to prove his love: then look'd on him<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">and smiled;</span><br />
+He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions wild:<br />
+The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon regain'd his<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">place;</span><br />
+Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face!<br />
+"In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">where he sat:</span><br />
+"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 310px;">
+<p>
+<i>Rough wind, that moanest loud</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Grief too sad for song;</i></span><br />
+<i>Wild wind, when sullen cloud</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Knells all the night long;</i></span><br />
+<i>Sad storm, whose tears are vain,</i><br />
+<i>Bare woods, whose branches strain,</i><br />
+<i>Deep caves and dreary main,</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Wail, for the world's wrong.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 20em;"><i>A Dirge</i>.</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Shelley</span>.</p>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xli" id="xli"></a><a href="#anchor_xli">XLI</a>. THE CLOUD.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1792-1822.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 490px;">
+
+<p>I.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">I bring</span> fresh showers for the thirsting flowers<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From the seas and the streams;</span><br />
+I bear light shade for the leaves when laid<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In their noon-day dreams.</span><br />
+From my wings are shaken the dews that waken<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The sweet buds every one,</span><br />
+When rock'd to rest on their Mother's breast,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As she dances about the sun.</span><br />
+I wield the flail of the lashing hail,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And whiten the green plains under;</span><br />
+And then again I dissolve it in rain,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And laugh as I pass in thunder.</span></p>
+
+<p>II.</p>
+
+<p>I sift the snow on the mountains below,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And their great pines groan aghast;</span><br />
+And all the night 'tis my pillow white,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">While I sleep in the arms of the Blast.</span><br />
+Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Lightning, my pilot, sits;</span><br />
+In a cavern under is fetter'd the Thunder,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">It struggles and howls at fits.</span><br />
+Over earth and ocean with gentle motion<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">This pilot is guiding me,</span><br />
+Lured by the love of the Genii that move<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In the depths of the purple sea;</span><br />
+Over the rills and the crags and the hills,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Over the lakes and the plains,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+Wherever he dream under mountain or stream<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The Spirit he loves remains;</span><br />
+And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Whilst he is dissolving in rains.</span></p>
+
+
+<p>III.</p>
+
+<p>The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And his burning plumes outspread,</span><br />
+Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">When the morning star shines dead;</span><br />
+As on the jag of a mountain-crag,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Which an earthquake rocks and swings,</span><br />
+An eagle alit one moment may sit<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In the light of its golden wings.</span><br />
+And, when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Its ardor of rest and of love,</span><br />
+And the crimson pall of eve may fall<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From the depth of heaven above,</span><br />
+With wings folded I rest on mine airy nest,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As still as a brooding dove.</span></p>
+
+<p>IV.</p>
+
+<p>That orb<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d maiden, with white-fire laden,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Whom mortals call the Moon,</span><br />
+Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">By the midnight breezes strewn;</span><br />
+And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Which only the angels hear,</span><br />
+May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The Stars peep behind her and peer.</span><br />
+And I laugh to see them whirl and flee<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Like a swarm of golden bees,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>
+When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Are each pav'd with the moon and these.</span></p>
+
+<p>V.</p>
+
+<p>I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;</span><br />
+The volcanoes are dim, and the Stars reel and swim,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">When the Whirlwinds my banner unfurl.</span><br />
+From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Over a torrent sea,</span><br />
+Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The mountains its columns be.</span><br />
+The triumphal arch, through which I march,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With hurricane, fire, and snow,</span><br />
+When the Powers of the air are chain'd to my chair,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Is the million-color'd bow;</span><br />
+The Sphere-fire above its soft colors wove,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">While the moist Earth was laughing below.</span></p>
+
+
+<p>VI.</p>
+
+<p>I am the daughter of Earth and Water,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the nursling of the Sky;</span><br />
+I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I change, but I cannot die.</span><br />
+For after the rain, when with never a stain<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The pavilion of heaven is bare,</span><br />
+And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Build up the blue dome of air,</span><br />
+I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And out of the caverns of rain,</span><br />
+Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I arise, and unbuild it again.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xlii" id="xlii"></a><a href="#anchor_xlii">XLII</a>. ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">John Keats</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1795-1821.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 400px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Much</span> have I travell'd in the realms of gold,<br />
+And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;<br />
+Round many western islands have I been<br />
+Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.<br />
+Oft of one wide expanse had I been told<br />
+That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne:<br />
+Yet did I never breathe its pure serene<br />
+Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:<br />
+Then felt I like some watcher of the skies<br />
+When a new planet swims into his ken;<br />
+Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes<br />
+He stared at the Pacific<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and all his men<br />
+Look'd at each other with a wild surmise<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Silent, upon a peak in Darien.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xliii" id="xliii"></a><a href="#anchor_xliii">XLIII</a>. ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Keats</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 420px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> poetry of earth is never dead:<br />
+When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,<br />
+And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run<br />
+From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead:<br />
+That is the grasshopper's<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>he takes the lead<br />
+In summer luxury,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>he has never done<br />
+With his delights, for, when tired out with fun,<br />
+He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.<br />
+The poetry of earth is ceasing never:<br />
+On a lone winter evening, when the frost<br />
+Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills<br />
+The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,<br />
+And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,<br />
+The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xliv" id="xliv"></a><a href="#anchor_xliv">XLIV</a>. THE POWER AND DANGER OF THE C<ins class="translit" title="AE ligature">&#198;</ins>SARS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas De Quincey</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1785-1859.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The C</span><ins class="translit" title="ae ligature"><span class="smcap">&#230;</span></ins><span class="smcap">sars</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">To</span> this view of the imperial character and relations
+must be added one single circumstance, which in some
+measure altered the whole for the individual who happened
+to fill the office. The emperor <i>de facto</i> might be
+viewed under two aspects; there was the man, and there
+was the office. In his office he was immortal and sacred:
+but as a question might still be raised, by means of a
+mercenary army, as to the claims of the particular individual
+who at any time filled the office, the very sanctity
+and privilege of the character with which he was clothed
+might actually be turned against himself; and here it is,
+at this point, that the character of Roman emperor became
+truly and mysteriously awful. Gibbon has taken
+notice of the extraordinary situation of a <i>subject</i> in the
+Roman empire who should attempt to fly from the wrath
+of the C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sar. Such was the ubiquity of the emperor
+that this was metaphysically hopeless. Except across
+pathless deserts or amongst barbarous nomads, it was
+impossible to find even a transient sanctuary from the
+imperial pursuit. If the fugitive went down to the sea,
+there he met the emperor: if he took the wings of the
+morning, and fled to the uttermost parts of the earth,
+there was also C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sar in the person of his lieutenants.
+But, by a dreadful counter-charm, the same omnipresence
+of imperial anger and retribution which withered the
+hopes of the poor humble prisoner, met and confounded
+the emperor himself, when hurled from his elevation by
+some fortunate rival. All the kingdoms of the earth, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+one in that situation, became but so many wards of the
+same infinite prison. Flight, if it were even successful
+for the moment, did but a little retard his inevitable
+doom. And so evident was this, that hardly in one
+instance did the fallen prince <i>attempt</i> to fly; passively he
+met the death which was inevitable, in the very spot
+where ruin had overtaken him. Neither was it possible
+even for a merciful conqueror to show mercy; for, in the
+presence of an army so mercenary and factious, his own
+safety was but too deeply involved in the extermination
+of rival pretenders to the crown.</p>
+
+<p>Such, amidst the sacred security and inviolability of
+the office, was the hazardous tenure of the individual.
+Nor did his dangers always arise from persons in the
+rank of competitors and rivals. Sometimes it menaced
+him in quarters which his eye had never penetrated, and
+from enemies too obscure to have reached his ear. By
+way of illustration we will cite a case from the life of the
+Emperor Commodus, which is wild enough to have
+furnished the plot of a romance, though as well authenticated
+as any other passage in that reign. The story is
+narrated by Herodian, and the outline was this:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>A
+slave of noble qualities, and of magnificent person, having
+liberated himself from the degradations of bondage, determined
+to avenge his own wrongs by inflicting continual
+terror upon the town and neighborhood which had witnessed
+his humiliation. For this purpose he resorted to
+the woody recesses of the province (somewhere in the
+modern Transylvania), and, attracting to his wild encampment
+as many fugitives as he could, by degrees he
+succeeded in training a very formidable troop of freebooters.
+Partly from the energy of his own nature, and
+partly from the neglect and remissness of the provincial<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>
+magistrates, the robber captain rose from less to more,
+until he had formed a little army, equal to the task of
+assaulting fortified cities. In this stage of his adventures
+he encountered and defeated several of the imperial
+officers commanding large detachments of troops; and
+at length grew of consequence sufficient to draw upon
+himself the emperor's eye, and the honor of his personal
+displeasure. In high wrath and disdain at the insults
+offered to his eagles by this fugitive slave, Commodus
+fulminated against him such an edict as left him no hope
+of much longer escaping with impunity.</p>
+
+<p>Public vengeance was now awakened; the imperial
+troops were marching from every quarter upon the same
+centre; and the slave became sensible that in a very
+short space of time he must be surrounded and destroyed.
+In this desperate situation he took a desperate resolution:
+he assembled his troops, laid before them his plan, concerted
+the various steps for carrying it into effect, and
+then dismissed them as independent wanderers. So ends
+the first chapter of the tale.</p>
+
+<p>The next opens in the passes of the Alps, whither, by
+various routes, of seven or eight hundred miles in extent,
+these men had threaded their way in manifold disguises,
+through the very midst of the emperor's camps. According
+to this man's gigantic enterprise, in which the means
+were as audacious as the purpose, the conspirators were
+to rendezvous, and first to recognize each other, at the
+gates of Rome. From the Danube to the Tiber did this
+band of robbers severally pursue their perilous routes
+through all the difficulties of the road and the jealousies
+of the military stations, sustained by the mere thirst of
+vengeance<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>vengeance against that mighty foe whom
+they knew only by his proclamations against themselves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+Everything continued to prosper; the conspirators met
+under the walls of Rome; the final details were arranged;
+and those also would have prospered but for a trifling
+accident. The season was one of general carnival at
+Rome; and, by the help of those disguises which the
+license of this festival time allowed, the murderers were
+to have penetrated as maskers to the emperor's retirement,
+when a casual word or two awoke the suspicions
+of a sentinel. One of the conspirators was arrested;
+under the terror and uncertainty of the moment, he made
+much ampler discoveries than were expected of him;
+the other accomplices were secured: and Commodus was
+delivered from the uplifted daggers of those who had
+sought him by months of patient wanderings, pursued
+through all the depths of the Illyrian forests, and the
+difficulties of the Alpine passes. It is not easy to find
+words of admiration commensurate to the energetic
+hardihood of a slave<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who, by way of answer and reprisal
+to an edict summarily consigning him to persecution and
+death, determines to cross Europe in quest of its author,
+though no less a person than the master of the world<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>to
+seek him out in the inmost recesses of his capital city,
+of his private palace, of his consecrated bed-chamber<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and
+there to lodge a dagger in his heart, as the adequate
+reply to the imperial sentence of proscription against
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>Such, amidst the superhuman grandeur and hallowed
+privileges of the Roman emperor's office, were the extraordinary
+perils which menaced the individual officer.
+The office rose by its grandeur to a region above the
+clouds and vapors of earth: the officer might find his
+personal security as unsubstantial as those wandering
+vapors. Nor is it possible that these circumstances of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
+violent opposition can be better illustrated than in this
+tale of Herodian. Whilst the emperor's mighty arms
+were stretched out to arrest some potentate in the heart
+of Asia, a poor slave is silently and stealthily creeping
+round the base of the Alps, with the purpose of winning
+his way as a murderer to the imperial bed-chamber;
+C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sar is watching some potent rebel of the Orient, at a
+distance of two thousand leagues, and he overlooks the
+dagger which is within three stealthy steps, and one
+tiger's leap, of his own heart. All the heights and the
+depths which belong to man's frailty, all the contrasts of
+glory and meanness, the extremities of what is highest
+and lowest in human casualties, meeting in the station of
+the Roman C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sar Semper Augustus<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>have combined to
+call him into high marble relief, and to make him the
+most interesting study of all whom history has emblazoned
+with colors of fire and blood, or has crowned
+most lavishly with diadems of cyprus and laurel.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xlv" id="xlv"></a><a href="#anchor_xlv">XLV</a>. UNTHOUGHTFULNESS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Dr. Arnold</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1795-1842.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>A Lecture delivered in Rugby Chapel.</i></h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> state of spiritual folly is, I suppose, one of the
+most universal evils in the world. For the number of
+those who are naturally foolish is exceedingly great; of
+those, I mean, who understand no worldly thing well; of
+those who are careless about everything, carried about
+by every breath of opinion, without knowledge, and
+without principle. But the term spiritual folly includes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
+unhappily, a great many more than these; it takes in
+not those only who are in the common sense of the term
+foolish, but a great many who are in the common sense
+of the term clever, and many who are even in the common
+sense of the terms, prudent, sensible, thoughtful, and
+wise. It is but too evident that some of the ablest men
+who have ever lived upon earth, have been in no less a
+degree spiritually fools. And thus, it is not without
+much truth that Christian writers have dwelt upon the
+insufficiency of worldly wisdom, and have warned their
+readers to beware, lest, while professing themselves to be
+wise, they should be accounted as fools in the sight of
+God.</p>
+
+<p>But the opposite to this notion, that those who are, as
+it were, fools in worldly matters are wise before God,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>although
+this also is true in a certain sense, and under
+certain peculiar circumstances, yet taken generally, it is
+the very reverse of truth; and the careless and incautious
+language which has been often used on this subject, has
+been extremely mischievous. On the contrary, he who
+is foolish in worldly matters is likely also to be, and
+most commonly is, no less foolish in the things of God.
+And the opposite belief has arisen mainly from that
+strange confusion between ignorance and innocence, with
+which many ignorant persons seem to solace themselves.
+Whereas, if you take away a man's knowledge, you do
+not bring him to the state of an infant, but to that of a
+brute; and of one of the most mischievous and malignant
+of the brute creation. For you do not lessen or weaken
+the man's body by lowering his mind; he still retains
+his strength and his passions, the passions leading to
+self-indulgence, the strength which enables him to feed
+them by continued gratification. He will not think, it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
+true, to any good purpose; it is very possible to destroy
+in him the power of reflection, whether as exercised upon
+outward things, or upon himself and his own nature, or
+upon God. But you cannot destroy the power of adapting
+means to ends, nor that of concealing his purposes
+by fraud or falsehood; you take only his wisdom, and
+leave that cunning which marks so notoriously both the
+savage and the madman. He, then, who is a fool as far
+as regards earthly things, is much more a fool with
+regard to heavenly things; he who cannot raise himself
+even to the lower height, how is he to attain to the
+higher? he who is without reason and conscience, how
+shall he be endowed with the spirit of God?</p>
+
+<p>It is my deep conviction and long experience of this
+truth, which makes me so grieve over a want of interest
+in your own improvement in human learning, whenever
+I observe it,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>over the prevalence of a thoughtless and
+childish spirit amongst you.... The idleness and want
+of interest which I grieve for, is one which extends itself,
+but too impartially, to knowledge of every kind: to
+divine knowledge, as might be expected, even more than
+to human. Those whom we commonly find careless
+about their general lessons, are quite as ignorant and as
+careless about their Bibles; those who have no interest in
+general literature, in poetry, or in history, or in philosophy,
+have certainly no greater interest, I do not say in works
+of theology, but in works of practical devotion, in the
+lives of holy men, in meditations, or in prayers. Alas,
+the interest of their minds is bestowed on things far
+lower than the very lowest of all which I have named;
+and therefore, to see them desiring something only a
+little higher than their present pursuits, could not but be
+encouraging; it would, at least, show that the mind was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
+rising upwards. It may, indeed, stop at a point short of
+the highest, it may learn to love earthly excellence, and
+rest there contented, and seek for nothing more perfect;
+but that, at any rate, is a future and merely contingent
+evil. It is better to love earthly excellence than earthly
+folly; it is far better in itself, and it is, by many degrees,
+nearer to the Kingdom of God.</p>
+
+<p>There is another case, however, which I cannot but
+think is more frequent now than formerly; and if it is
+so, it may be worth while to direct our attention to
+it. Common idleness and absolute ignorance are not
+what I wish to speak of now, but a character advanced
+above these; a character which does not neglect its
+school-lessons, but really attains to considerable proficiency
+in them; a character at once regular and amiable,
+abstaining from evil, and for evil in its low and grosser
+forms having a real abhorrence. What, then, you will
+say, is wanting here? I will tell you what seems to be
+wanting<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a spirit of manly, and much more of Christian,
+thoughtfulness. There is quickness and cleverness;
+much pleasure, perhaps, in distinction, but little in improvement;
+there is no desire of knowledge for its own
+sake, whether human or divine. There is, therefore, but
+little power of combining and digesting what is read;
+and, consequently, what is read passes away, and takes
+no root in the mind. This same character shows itself
+in matters of conduct; it will adopt, without scruple, the
+most foolish, commonplace notions of boys, about what
+is right and wrong; it will not, and cannot, from the
+lightness of its mind, concern itself seriously about what
+is evil in the conduct of others, because it takes no
+regular care of its own, with reference to pleasing God;
+it will not do anything low or wicked, but it will some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>times
+laugh at those who do; and it will by no means
+take pains to encourage, nay, it will sometimes thwart
+and oppose anything that breathes a higher spirit, and
+asserts a more manly and Christian standard of duty.</p>
+
+<p>One cause of this consists in the number and character
+and cheapness, and peculiar mode of publication, of the
+works of amusement of the present day. The works of
+amusement published only a very few years since were
+comparatively few in number; they were less exciting,
+and therefore less attractive; they were dearer, and
+therefore less accessible; and, not being published
+periodically, they did not occupy the mind for so long a
+time, nor keep alive so constant an expectation; nor, by
+thus dwelling upon the mind, and distilling themselves
+into it as it were drop by drop, did they possess it so
+largely, coloring even, in many instances, its very language,
+and affording frequent matter for conversation.</p>
+
+<p>The evil of all these circumstances is actually enormous.
+The mass of human minds, and much more of the minds
+of young persons, have no great appetite for intellectual
+exercise; but they have some, which by careful treatment
+may be strengthened and increased. But here to
+this weak and delicate appetite is presented an abundance
+of the most stimulating and least nourishing food
+possible. It snatches it greedily, and is not only satisfied,
+but actually conceives a distaste for anything simpler and
+more wholesome. That curiosity which is wisely given
+us to lead us on to knowledge, finds its full gratification
+in the details of an exciting and protracted story, and
+then lies down as it were gorged, and goes to sleep.
+Other faculties claim their turn, and have it. We know
+that in youth the healthy body and lively spirits require
+exercise, and in this they may and ought to be indulged;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
+but the time and interest which remain over when the
+body has had its enjoyment, and the mind desires its
+share, this has been already wasted and exhausted upon
+things utterly unprofitable: so that the mind goes to its
+work hurriedly and languidly, and feels it to be no more
+than a burden. The mere lessons may be learnt from a
+sense of duty; but that freshness of power which in
+young persons of ability would fasten eagerly upon some
+one portion or other of the wide field of knowledge, and
+there expatiate, drinking in health and strength to the
+mind, as surely as the natural exercise of the body gives
+to it bodily vigor,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that is tired prematurely, perverted,
+and corrupted; and all the knowledge which else it
+might so covet, it now seems a wearying effort to retain.</p>
+
+<p>Great and grievous as is the evil, it is peculiarly hard
+to find the remedy for it. If the books to which I have
+been alluding were books of downright wickedness, we
+might destroy them wherever we found them; we might
+forbid their open circulation; we might conjure you to
+shun them as you would any other clear sin, whether of
+word or deed. But they are not wicked books for the
+most part; they are of that class which cannot be
+actually prohibited; nor can it be pretended that there
+is a sin in reading them. They are not the more wicked
+for being published so cheap, and at regular intervals;
+but yet these two circumstances make them so peculiarly
+injurious. All that can be done is to point out the
+evil; that it is real and serious I am very sure, and its
+defects are most deplorable on the minds of the fairest
+promise; but the remedy for it rests with yourselves, or
+rather with each of you individually, so far as he is himself
+concerned. That an unnatural and constant excitement
+of the mind is most injurious, there is no doubt;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
+that excitement involves a consequent weakness, is a law
+of our nature than which none is surer; that the weakness
+of mind thus produced is and must be adverse to quiet
+study and thought, to that reflection which alone is
+wisdom, is also clear in itself, and proved too largely by
+experience. And that without reflection there can be no
+spiritual understanding, is at once evident; while without
+spiritual understanding, that is, without a knowledge and
+a study of God's will, there can be no spiritual life. And
+therefore childishness and unthoughtfulness cannot be
+light evils; and if I have rightly traced the prevalence
+of these defects to its cause, although that cause may
+seem to some to be trifling, yet surely it is well to call
+your attention to it, and to remind you that in reading
+works of amusement, as in every other lawful pleasure,
+there is and must be an abiding responsibility in the
+sight of God; that, like other lawful pleasures, we must
+beware of excess in it; and not only so, but if we find
+it hurtful to us, either because we have used it too freely
+in times past, or because our nature is too weak to bear
+it, that then we are bound most solemnly to abstain
+from it; because, however lawful in itself, or to others
+who can practise it without injury, whatever is to us an
+hindrance in the way of our intellectual and moral and
+spiritual improvement, that is in our case a positive sin.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 560px;">
+<p><i>There is a book, who runs may read, which heavenly truth imparts;</i><br />
+<i>And all the lore its scholars need,</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>pure eyes and Christian hearts.</i><br />
+<i>The works of God, above, below, within us and around,</i><br />
+<i>Are pages in that book, to show how God Himself is found.</i></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 18em;">John Keble</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1792-1866.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xlvi" id="xlvi"></a><a href="#anchor_xlvi">XLVI</a>. THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas Hood</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1799-1845.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 250px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">One</span> more Unfortunate,<br />
+Weary of breath,<br />
+Rashly importunate,<br />
+Gone to her death!</p>
+
+<p>Take her up tenderly,<br />
+Lift her with care;<br />
+Fashion'd so slenderly,<br />
+Young, and so fair!</p>
+
+<p>Look at her garments<br />
+Clinging like cerements;<br />
+Whilst the wave constantly<br />
+Drips from her clothing;<br />
+Take her up instantly,<br />
+Loving, not loathing.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p>Touch her not scornfully;<br />
+Think of her mournfully,<br />
+Gently and humanly;<br />
+Not of the stains of her,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+All that remains of her<br />
+Now is pure womanly.</p>
+
+<p>Make no deep scrutiny<br />
+Into her mutiny<br />
+Rash and undutiful:<br />
+Past all dishonor,<br />
+Death has left on her<br />
+Only the beautiful.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
+Still, for all slips of hers,<br />
+One of Eve's family,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Wipe those poor lips of hers<br />
+Oozing so clammily.</p>
+
+<p>Loop up her tresses<br />
+Escaped from the comb,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Her fair auburn tresses;<br />
+Whilst wonderment guesses<br />
+Where was her home?</p>
+
+<p>Who was her father?<br />
+Who was her mother?<br />
+Had she a sister?<br />
+Had she a brother?<br />
+Or was there a dearer one<br />
+Still, and a nearer one<br />
+Yet, than all other?</p>
+
+<p>Alas! for the rarity<br />
+Of Christian charity<br />
+Under the sun!<br />
+Oh! it was pitiful!<br />
+Near a whole city full,<br />
+Home she had none.</p>
+
+<p>Sisterly, brotherly,<br />
+Fatherly, motherly<br />
+Feelings had changed:<br />
+Love, by harsh evidence,<br />
+Thrown from its eminence;<br />
+Even God's providence<br />
+Seeming estranged.</p>
+
+<p>Where the lamps quiver<br />
+So far in the river,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span><br />
+With many a light<br />
+From window and casement,<br />
+From garret to basement,<br />
+She stood, with amazement,<br />
+Houseless by night.</p>
+
+<p>The bleak wind of March<br />
+Made her tremble and shiver;<br />
+But not the dark arch,<br />
+Or the black flowing river:<br />
+Mad from life's history,<br />
+Glad to death's mystery,<br />
+Swift to be hurl'd<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Anywhere, anywhere<br />
+Out of the world!</p>
+
+<p>In she plunged boldly,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+No matter how coldly<br />
+The dark river ran,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Over the brink of it,<br />
+Picture it,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>think of it,<br />
+Dissolute Man!<br />
+Lave in it, drink of it,<br />
+Then, if you can!</p>
+
+<p>Take her up tenderly,<br />
+Lift her with care;<br />
+Fashion'd so slenderly,<br />
+Young, and so fair!</p>
+
+<p>Ere her limbs frigidly<br />
+Stiffen too rigidly,<br />
+Decently,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>kindly,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Smooth and compose them;<br />
+And her eyes, close them,<br />
+Staring so blindly!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
+Dreadfully staring<br />
+Through muddy impurity,<br />
+As when with the daring<br />
+Last look of despairing<br />
+Fix'd on futurity.</p>
+
+<p>Perishing gloomily,<br />
+Spurr'd by contumely,<br />
+Cold inhumanity,<br />
+Burning insanity,<br />
+Into her rest.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Cross her hands humbly,<br />
+As if praying dumbly,<br />
+Over her breast!</p>
+
+<p>Owning her weakness,<br />
+Her evil behavior,<br />
+And leaving, with meekness,<br />
+Her sins to her Saviour!</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xlvii" id="xlvii"></a><a href="#anchor_xlvii">XLVII</a>. A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON.</h2>
+
+<h4>AGED THREE YEARS AND FIVE MONTHS.</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas Hood</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 440px;">
+<p>
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">T</span><span class="smcap">hou</span> happy, happy elf!<br />
+(But stop,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>first let me kiss away that tear)<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou tiny image of myself!</span><br />
+(My love, he's poking peas into his ear!)<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou merry, laughing sprite!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">With spirits feather-light,</span><br />
+Untouch'd by sorrow, and unsoil'd by sin<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+(Good heavens! the child is swallowing a pin!)<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou little tricksy Puck!</span><br />
+With antic toys so funnily bestuck,<br />
+Light as the singing bird that wings the air<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+(The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!)<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou darling of thy sire!</span><br />
+(Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore a-fire!)<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou imp of mirth and joy!</span><br />
+In Love's dear chain so strong and bright a link,<br />
+Thou idol of thy parents<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>(Drat the boy!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">There goes my ink!)</span><br /></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou cherub</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but of earth;<br />
+Fit playfellow for Fays, by moonlight pale,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">In harmless sport and mirth,</span><br />
+(That dog will bite him if he pulls its tail!)<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou human humming-bee extracting honey</span><br />
+From ev'ry blossom in the world that blows,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Singing in Youth's Elysium ever sunny,</span><br />
+(Another tumble!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that's his precious nose!)<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thy father's pride and hope!</span><br />
+(He'll break the mirror with that skipping-rope!)<br />
+With pure heart newly stamp'd from Nature's mint<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">(Where did he learn that squint?)</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou young domestic dove!</span><br />
+(He'll have that jug off with another shove!)<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">(Are those torn clothes his best?)</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Little epitome of man!</span><br />
+(He'll climb upon the table, that's his plan!)<br />
+Touch'd with the beauteous tints of dawning life<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">(He's got a knife!)</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou enviable being!</span><br />
+No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Play on, play on,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">My elfin John!</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
+Toss the light ball<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>bestride the stick<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+(I knew so many cakes would make him sick!)<br />
+With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down,<br />
+Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">With many a lamb-like frisk,</span><br />
+(He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown!)</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thou pretty opening rose!</span><br />
+(Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!)<br />
+Balmy, and breathing music like the South,<br />
+(He really brings my heart into my mouth!)<br />
+Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+(I wish that window had an iron bar!)<br />
+Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">(I tell you what, my love,</span><br />
+I cannot write, unless he's sent above!)</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xlviii" id="xlviii"></a><a href="#anchor_xlviii">XLVIII</a>. METAPHYSICS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas Chandler Haliburton</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1796-1865.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Traits of American Humor</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Old</span> Doctor Sobersides, the minister of Pumpkinville,
+where I lived in my youth, was one of the metaphysical
+divines of the old school, and could cavil upon the ninth
+part of a hair about entities and quiddities, nominalism
+and realism, free-will and necessity, with which sort of
+learning he used to stuff his sermons and astound his
+learned hearers, the bumpkins. They never doubted
+that it was all true, but were apt to say with the old
+woman in Moli<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>re: "He speaks so well that I don't
+understand him a bit."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>I remember a conversation that happened at my
+grandfather's, in which the Doctor had some difficulty in
+making his metaphysics all "as clear as preaching."
+There was my grandfather; Uncle Tim, who was the
+greatest hand at raising onions in our part of the country,
+but "not knowing metaphysics, had no notion of the true
+reason of his not being sad"; my Aunt Judy Keturah
+Titterwell, who could knit stockings "like all possest,"
+but could not syllogise; Malachi Muggs, our hired man
+that drove the oxen; and Isaac Thrasher, the district
+schoolmaster, who had dropped in to warm his fingers
+and get a drink of cider. Something was under discussion,
+and my grandfather could make nothing of it; but
+the Doctor said it was "metaphysically true."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, Doctor," said Uncle Tim, "tell me something
+about metaphysics; I have often heard of that science,
+but never for my life could find out what it was."</p>
+
+<p>"Metaphysics," said the Doctor, "is the science of abstraction."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm no wiser for that explanation," said Uncle Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"It treats," said the Doctor, "of matters most profound
+and sublime, a little difficult perhaps for a common intellect
+or an unschooled capacity to fathom, but not the
+less important on that account, to all living beings."</p>
+
+<p>"What does it teach?" asked the Schoolmaster.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not applied so much to the operation of teaching,"
+answered the Doctor, "as to that of inquiring; and
+the chief inquiry is, whether things are, or whether they
+are not."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand the question," said Uncle Tim,
+taking the pipe out of his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"For example, whether this earth on which we tread,"
+said the Doctor, giving a heavy stamp on the floor, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
+setting his foot on the cat's tail, "whether the earth does
+really exist, or whether it does not exist."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a point of considerable consequence to settle,"
+said my grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>"Especially," added the schoolmaster, "to the holders
+of real estate."</p>
+
+<p>"Now the earth," continued the Doctor, "may exist<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, who ever doubted that?" asked Uncle Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"A great many men," said the Doctor, "and some
+very learned ones."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Tim stared a moment, and then began to fill
+his pipe, whistling the tune of "Heigh! Betty Martin,"
+while the Doctor went on:</p>
+
+<p>"The earth, I say, may exist, although Bishop Berkeley
+has proved beyond all possible gainsaying or denial, that
+it does not exist. The case is clear; the only difficulty
+is, to know whether we shall believe it or not."</p>
+
+<p>"And how," asked Uncle Tim, "is all this to be found
+out?"</p>
+
+<p>"By digging down to the first principles," answered
+the Doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," interrupted Malachi, "there is nothing equal to
+the spade and pickaxe."</p>
+
+<p>"That is true," said my grandfather, going on in
+Malachi's way, "'tis by digging for the foundation, that
+we shall find out whether the world exists or not; for, if
+we dig to the bottom of the earth and find the foundation<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>why
+then we are sure of it. But if we find no foundation,
+it is clear that the world stands upon nothing, or, in
+other words, that it does not stand at all; therefore, it
+stands to reason<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," interrupted the Doctor, "but
+you totally mistake me; I used the word digging meta<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>phorically,
+meaning the profoundest cogitation and research
+into the nature of things. That is the way in
+which we may ascertain whether things are, or whether
+they are not."</p>
+
+<p>"But if a man can't believe his eyes," said Uncle Tim,
+"what signifies talking about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Our eyes," said the Doctor, "are nothing at all but
+the inlets of sensation, and when we see a thing, all we
+are aware of is, that we have a sensation of it: we are
+not aware that the thing exists. We are sure of nothing
+that we see with our eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"Not without spectacles," said Aunt Judy.</p>
+
+<p>"Plato, for instance, maintains that the sensation of
+any object is produced by a perpetual succession of
+copies, images, or counterfeits, streaming off from the
+object to the organ of sensation. Descartes, too, has
+explained the matter upon the principle of whirligigs."</p>
+
+<p>"But does the world exist?" asked the Schoolmaster.</p>
+
+<p>"A good deal may be said on both sides," replied the
+Doctor, "though the ablest heads are for non-existence."</p>
+
+<p>"In common cases," said Uncle Tim, "those who utter
+nonsense are considered blockheads."</p>
+
+<p>"But in metaphysics," said the Doctor, "the case is
+different."</p>
+
+<p>"Now all this is hocus-pocus to me," said Aunt Judy,
+suspending her knitting-work, and scratching her forehead
+with one of the needles, "I don't understand a bit more
+of the business than I did at first."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be bound there is many a learned professor," said
+Uncle Tim, "could say the same after spinning a long
+yarn of metaphysics."</p>
+
+<p>The Doctor did not admire this gibe at his favorite
+science.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>"That is as the case may be," said he; "this thing or
+that thing may be dubious, but what then? Doubt is
+the beginning of wisdom."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt of that," said my grandfather, beginning to
+poke the fire, "and when a man has got through his
+doubting, what does he begin to build up in the metaphysical
+way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he begins by taking something for granted,"
+said the Doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"But is that a sure way of going to work?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis the only thing he can do," replied the Doctor,
+after a pause, and rubbing his forehead as if he was not
+altogether satisfied that his foundation was a solid one.
+My grandfather might have posed him with another
+question, but he poked the fire and let him go on.</p>
+
+<p>"Metaphysics, to speak exactly<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins>"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," interrupted the Schoolmaster, "bring it down to
+vulgar fractions, and then we shall understand it."</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis the consideration of immateriality, or the mere
+spirit and essence of things."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come," said Aunt Judy, taking a pinch of
+snuff, "now I see into it."</p>
+
+<p>"Thus, man is considered, not in his corporeality, but
+in his essence or capability of being; for a man, metaphysically,
+or to metaphysical purposes, hath two natures,
+that of spirituality, and that of corporeality, which may
+be considered separate."</p>
+
+<p>"What man?" asked Uncle Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, any man; Malachi there, for example; I may
+consider him as Malachi spiritual, or Malachi corporeal."</p>
+
+<p>"That is true," said Malachi, "for when I was in the
+militia they made me a sixteenth corporal, and I carried
+grog to the drummer."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>"That is another affair," said the Doctor in continuation;
+"we speak of man in his essence; we speak, also,
+of the essence of locality, the essence of duration<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"</p>
+
+<p>"And essence of peppermint," said Aunt Judy.</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh!" said the Doctor, "the essence I mean is quite
+a different essence."</p>
+
+<p>"Something too fine to be dribbled through the worm
+of a still," said my grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I am all in the dark again," rejoined Aunt
+Judy.</p>
+
+<p>"By the spirit and essence of things I mean things in
+the abstract."</p>
+
+<p>"And what becomes of a thing when it goes into the
+abstract?" asked Uncle Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it becomes an abstraction."</p>
+
+<p>"There we are again," said Uncle Tim; "but what on
+earth is an abstraction?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a thing that has no matter: that is, it cannot be
+felt, seen, heard, smelt, or tasted; it has no substance or
+solidity; it is neither large nor small, hot nor cold, long
+nor short."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what is the long and short of it?" asked the
+Schoolmaster.</p>
+
+<p>"Abstraction," replied the Doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose, for instance," said Malachi, "that I had a
+pitchfork<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins>"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," said the Doctor, "consider a pitchfork in general;
+that is, neither this one nor that one, nor any particular
+one, but a pitchfork or pitchforks divested of their
+materiality<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>these are things in the abstract."</p>
+
+<p>"They are things in the hay-mow," said Malachi.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray," said Uncle Tim, "have there been many such
+things discovered?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>"Discovered!" returned the Doctor, "why, all things,
+whether in heaven, or upon the earth, or in the waters
+under the earth, whether small or great, visible or invisible,
+animate or inanimate; whether the eye can see,
+or the ear can hear, or the nose can smell, or the fingers
+touch; finally, whatever exists or is imaginable in the
+nature of things, past, present, or to come, all may be
+abstractions."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" said Uncle Tim, "pray, what do you make
+of the abstraction of a red cow?"</p>
+
+<p>"A red cow," said the Doctor, "considered metaphysically
+or as an abstraction, is an animal possessing neither
+hide nor horns, bones nor flesh, but is the mere type,
+eidolon, and fantastical semblance of these parts of a
+quadruped. It has a shape without any substance, and
+no color at all, for its redness is the mere counterfeit or
+imagination of such. As it lacks the positive, so is it
+also deficient in the accidental properties of all the
+animals in its tribe, for it has no locomotion, stability, or
+endurance, neither goes to pasture, gives milk, chews the
+cud, nor performs any other function of the horned
+beast, but is a mere creation of the brain, begotten by a
+freak of the fancy and nourished by a conceit of the
+imagination."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw!" exclaimed Aunt Judy. "All the metaphysics
+under the sun wouldn't make a pound of butter!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's a fact," said Uncle Tim.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 320px;">
+<p><i>There is no great and no small</i><br />
+<i>To the Soul that maketh all:</i><br />
+<i>And where it cometh, all things are:</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<i>And it cometh everywhere.</i></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 18em;">E</span><span class="smcap">merson</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xlix" id="xlix"></a><a href="#anchor_xlix">XLIX</a>. INDIAN SUMMER.<a name="FNanchor_J_47" id="FNanchor_J_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_47" class="fnanchor">[J]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Samuel Lover</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1797-1868.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 340px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> summer's verdant beauty flies,<br />
+And autumn glows with richer dyes,<br />
+A softer charm beyond them lies<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">It is the Indian summer.</span><br />
+Ere winter's snows and winter's breeze<br />
+Bereave of beauty all the trees,<br />
+The balmy spring renewal sees<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">In the sweet Indian summer.</span></p>
+
+<p>And thus, dear love, if early years<br />
+Have drown'd the germ of joy in tears,<br />
+A later gleam of hope appears<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Just like the Indian summer:</span><br />
+And ere the snows of age descend,<br />
+O trust me, dear one, changeless friend,<br />
+Our falling years may brightly end<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Just like the Indian summer.</span><br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_J_47" id="Footnote_J_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J_47"><span class="label">[J]</span></a> The brief period which succeeds the autumnal close, called the "Indian
+Summer,"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a reflex, as it were, of the early portion of the year<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>strikes a
+stranger in America as peculiarly beautiful, and quite charmed me.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Lover</span>.</p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+
+
+<h2><br /><a name="l" id="l"></a><a href="#anchor_l">L</a>. TO HELEN.<a name="FNanchor_K_48" id="FNanchor_K_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_48" class="fnanchor">[K]</a></h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">July</span> 7, 1839.</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Winthrop Mackworth Praed</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1802-1839.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 520px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Dearest</span>, I did not dream, four years ago,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">When through your veil I saw your bright tear shine,</span><br />
+Caught your clear whisper, exquisitely low,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And felt your soft hand tremble into mine,</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>
+That in so brief<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>so very brief a space,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He, who in love both clouds and cheers our life,</span><br />
+Would lay on you, so full of light, joy, grace,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The darker, sadder duties of the wife,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Doubts, fears, and frequent toil, and constant care<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">For this poor frame, by sickness sore bested;</span><br />
+The daily tendance on the fractious chair,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The nightly vigil by the feverish bed.</span></p>
+
+<p>Yet not unwelcom'd doth this morn arise,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Though with more gladsome beams it might have shone:</span><br />
+Strength of these weak hands, light of these dim eyes,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In sickness, as in health,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>bless you, My Own!<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_K_48" id="Footnote_K_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K_48"><span class="label">[K]</span></a> Praed died on the 15th of July.</p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="li" id="li"></a><a href="#anchor_li">LI</a>. HORATIUS.<a name="FNanchor_L_49" id="FNanchor_L_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_L_49" class="fnanchor">[L]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4>A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX.</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lord Macaulay</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1800-1859.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 560px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Lars</span> Porsena of Clusium by the Nine Gods he swore<br />
+That the great house of Tarquin should suffer wrong no more.<br />
+By the Nine Gods he swore it, and named a trysting day,<br />
+And bade his messengers ride forth, east and west and south<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">and north,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To summon his array.</span></p>
+
+<p>East and west and south and north the messengers ride fast,<br />
+And tower and town and cottage have heard the trumpet's blast.<br />
+Shame on the false Etruscan who lingers in his home,<br />
+When Porsena of Clusium is on the march for Rome.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
+The horsemen and the footmen are pouring in amain<br />
+From many a stately market-place; from many a fruitful plain;<br />
+From many a lonely hamlet, which, hid by beech and pine,<br />
+Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest of purple Apennine;<br />
+From lordly Volaterr<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>, where scowls the far-famed hold<br />
+Piled by the hands of giants for godlike kings of old;<br />
+From seagirt Populonia, whose sentinels descry<br />
+Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops fringing the southern sky;<br />
+From the proud mart of Pis<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>, queen of the western waves,<br />
+Where ride Massilia's triremes heavy with fair-hair'd slaves;<br />
+From where sweet Clanis wanders through corn and vines and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">flowers;</span><br />
+From where Cortona lifts to heaven her diadem of towers.</p>
+
+<p>Tall are the oaks whose acorns drop in dark Auser's rill;<br />
+Fat are the stags that champ the boughs of the Ciminian hill;<br />
+Beyond all streams Clitumnus is to the herdsman dear;<br />
+Best of all pools the fowler loves the great Volsinian mere.<br />
+But now no stroke of woodman is heard by Auser's rill;<br />
+No hunter tracks the stag's green path up the Ciminian hill;<br />
+Unwatch'd along Clitumnus grazes the milk-white steer;<br />
+Unharm'd the waterfowl may dip in the Volsinian mere.<br />
+The harvests of Arretium, this year, old men shall reap;<br />
+This year, young boys in Umbro shall plunge the struggling<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">sheep;</span><br />
+And in the vats of Luna, this year, the must shall foam<br />
+Round the white feet of laughing girls whose sires have march'd<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">to Rome.</span></p>
+
+<p>There be thirty chosen prophets, the wisest of the land,<br />
+Who alway by Lars Porsena both morn and evening stand:<br />
+Evening and morn the Thirty have turn'd the verses o'er,<br />
+Traced from the right on linen white by mighty seers of yore.<br />
+And with one voice the Thirty have their glad answer given:<br />
+"Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; go forth, belov'd of heaven.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
+Go, and return in glory to Clusium's royal dome;<br />
+And hang round Nurscia's altars the golden shields of Rome."</p>
+
+<p>And now hath every city sent up her tale of men:<br />
+The foot are fourscore thousand, the horse are thousands ten.<br />
+Before the gates of Sutrium is met the great array.<br />
+A proud man was Lars Porsena upon the trysting day.<br />
+For all the Etruscan armies were ranged beneath his eye,<br />
+And many a banish'd Roman, and many a stout ally;<br />
+And with a mighty following to join the muster came<br />
+The Tusculan Mamilius, prince of the Latian name.</p>
+
+<p>But by the yellow Tiber was tumult and affright:<br />
+From all the spacious champaign to Rome men took their flight.<br />
+A mile around the city, the throng stopp'd up the ways;<br />
+A fearful sight it was to see through two long nights and days.<br />
+For aged folks on crutches, and women great with child,<br />
+And mothers sobbing over babes that clung to them and smiled,<br />
+And sick men borne in litters high on the necks of slaves,<br />
+And troops of sun-burn'd husbandmen with reaping-hooks and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">staves,</span><br />
+And droves of mules and asses laden with skins of wine,<br />
+And endless flocks of goats and sheep, and endless herds of<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">kine,</span><br />
+And endless trains of wagons that creak'd beneath the weight<br />
+Of corn-sacks and of household goods, choked every roaring<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">gate.</span></p>
+
+<p>Now, from the rock Tarpeian, could the wan burghers spy<br />
+The line of blazing villages red in the midnight sky.<br />
+The Fathers of the City, they sat all night and day,<br />
+For every hour some horseman came with tidings of dismay.<br />
+To eastward and to westward have spread the Tuscan bands;<br />
+Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote in Crustumerium stands.<br />
+Verbenna down to Ostia hath wasted all the plain;<br />
+Astur hath storm'd Janiculum, and the stout guards are slain.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
+I wis, in all the Senate, there was no heart so bold,<br />
+But sore it ached, and fast it beat, when that ill news was told.<br />
+Forthwith up rose the Consul, up rose the Fathers all;<br />
+In haste they girded up their gowns, and hied them to the wall.<br />
+They held a council standing, before the River-Gate;<br />
+Short time was there, ye well may guess, for musing or debate.<br />
+Out spake the Consul roundly: "The bridge must straight go<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">down;</span><br />
+For, since Janiculum is lost, nought else can save the town."</p>
+
+<p>Just then a scout came flying, all wild with haste and fear:<br />
+"To arms! to arms! Sir Consul: Lars Porsena is here."<br />
+On the low hills to westward the Consul fix'd his eye,<br />
+And saw the swarthy storm of dust rise fast along the sky.<br />
+And nearer fast and nearer doth the red whirlwind come;<br />
+And louder still and still more loud, from underneath that rolling<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">cloud,</span><br />
+Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, the trampling, and the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">hum.</span><br />
+And plainly and more plainly now through the gloom appears,<br />
+Far to left and far to right, in broken gleams of dark-blue light,<br />
+The long array of helmets bright, the long array of spears.<br />
+And plainly and more plainly above that glimmering line,<br />
+Now might ye see the banners of twelve fair cities shine;<br />
+But the banner of proud Clusium was highest of them all,<br />
+The terror of the Umbrian, the terror of the Gaul.<br />
+And plainly and more plainly now might the burghers know,<br />
+By port and vest, by horse and crest, each warlike Lucumo.<br />
+There Cilnius of Arretium on his fleet roan was seen;<br />
+And Astur of the four-fold shield, girt with the brand none else<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">may wield,</span><br />
+Tolumnius with the belt of gold, and dark Verbenna from the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">hold</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">By reedy Thrasymene.</span></p>
+
+<p>Fast by the royal standard, o'erlooking all the war,<br />
+Lars Porsena of Clusium sat in his ivory car.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+By the right wheel rode Mamilius, prince of the Latian name;<br />
+And by the left false Sextus, that wrought the deed of shame.<br />
+But when the face of Sextus was seen among the foes,<br />
+A yell that rent the firmament from all the town arose.<br />
+On the house-tops was no woman but spat towards him and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">hiss'd,</span><br />
+No child but scream'd out curses, and shook its little fist.<br />
+But the Consul's brow was sad, and the Consul's speech was low,<br />
+And darkly look'd he at the wall, and darkly at the foe.<br />
+"Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down;<br />
+And if they once may win the bridge, what hope to save the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">town?"</span></p>
+
+<p>Then out spake brave Horatius, the Captain of the Gate:<br />
+"To every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late.<br />
+And how can man die better than facing fearful odds,<br />
+For the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods,<br />
+And for the tender mother who dandled him to rest,<br />
+And for the wife who nurses his baby at her breast,<br />
+And for the holy maidens who feed the eternal flame,<br />
+To save them from false Sextus that wrought the deed of shame?<br />
+Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may;<br />
+I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe in play.<br />
+In yon strait path a thousand may well be stopp'd by three.<br />
+Now who will stand on either hand, and keep the bridge with<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">me?"</span></p>
+
+<p>Then out spake Spurius Lartius; a Ramnian proud was he:<br />
+"Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">thee."</span><br />
+And out spake strong Herminius; of Titian blood was he:<br />
+"I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Horatius," quoth the Consul, "as thou sayest, so let it be."<br />
+And straight against that great array forth went the dauntless<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Three.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
+For Romans in Rome's quarrel spared neither land nor gold,<br />
+Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, in the brave days of old.<br />
+Then none was for a party; then all were for the state;<br />
+Then the great man help'd the poor, and the poor man lov'd<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">the great:</span><br />
+Then lands were fairly portion'd; then spoils were fairly sold:<br />
+The Romans were like brothers in the brave days of old.<br />
+Now Roman is to Roman more hateful than a foe,<br />
+And the Tribunes beard the high, and the Fathers grind the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">low.</span><br />
+As we wax hot in faction, in battle we wax cold:<br />
+Wherefore men fight not as they fought in the brave days of old.</p>
+
+<p>Now while the Three were tightening their harness on their<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">backs,</span><br />
+The Consul was the foremost man to take in hand an axe:<br />
+And Fathers mix'd with Commons seized hatchet, bar, and crow,<br />
+And smote upon the planks above, and loosed the props below.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the Tuscan army, right glorious to behold,<br />
+Came flashing back the noonday light, rank behind rank, like<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">surges bright</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Of a broad sea of gold.</span><br />
+Four hundred trumpets sounded a peal of warlike glee,<br />
+As that great host, with measured tread, and spears advanced,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">and ensigns spread,</span><br />
+Roll'd slowly towards the bridge's head, where stood the dauntless<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Three.</span></p>
+
+<p>The Three stood calm and silent, and look'd upon the foes,<br />
+And a great shout of laughter from all the vanguard rose:<br />
+And forth three chiefs came spurring before that deep array;<br />
+To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, and lifted high<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">their shields, and flew</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To win the narrow way;</span><br />
+Aunus from green Tifernum, lord of the Hill of Vines;<br />
+And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves sicken in Ilva's mines;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
+And Picus, long to Clusium vassal in peace and war,<br />
+Who led to fight his Umbrian powers from that gray crag where,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">girt with towers,</span><br />
+The fortress of Nequinum lowers o'er the pale waves of Nar.</p>
+
+<p>Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus into the stream beneath:<br />
+Herminius struck at Seius, and clove him to the teeth:<br />
+At Picus brave Horatius darted one fiery thrust;<br />
+And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms clash'd in the bloody<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">dust.</span></p>
+
+<p>Then Ocnus of Falerii rush'd on the Roman Three;<br />
+And Lausulus of Urgo, the rover of the sea;<br />
+And Aruns of Volsinium, who slew the great wild boar,<br />
+The great wild boar that had his den amidst the reeds of Cosa's<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">fen,</span><br />
+And wasted fields, and slaughter'd men, along Albinia's shore.</p>
+
+<p>Herminius smote down Aruns: Lartius laid Ocnus low:<br />
+Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow.<br />
+"Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate! no more, aghast and pale,<br />
+From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark the track of thy<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">destroying bark.</span><br />
+No more Campania's hinds shall fly to woods and caverns when<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">they spy.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thy thrice accurs</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d sail."</p>
+
+<p>But now no sound of laughter was heard among the foes.<br />
+A wild and wrathful clamor from all the vanguard rose.<br />
+Six spears' lengths from the entrance halted that deep array,<br />
+And for a space no man came forth to win the narrow way.</p>
+
+<p>But hark! the cry is Astur: and lo! the ranks divide;<br />
+And the great Lord of Luna comes with his stately stride.<br />
+Upon his ample shoulders clangs loud the four-fold shield,<br />
+And in his hand he shakes the brand which none but he can<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">wield.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
+He smiled on those bold Romans a smile serene and high;<br />
+He eyed the flinching Tuscans, and scorn was in his eye.<br />
+Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter stand savagely at bay:<br />
+But will ye dare to follow, if Astur clears the way?"<br />
+Then, whirling up his broadsword with both hands to the height,<br />
+He rush'd against Horatius, and smote with all his might.<br />
+With shield and blade Horatius right deftly turn'd the blow.<br />
+The blow, though turn'd, came yet too nigh; it miss'd his helm,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">but gash'd his thigh:</span><br />
+The Tuscans raised a joyful cry to see the red blood flow.<br />
+He reel'd, and on Herminius he lean'd one breathing-space;<br />
+Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds, sprang right at Astur's<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">face.</span><br />
+Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, so fierce a thrust he sped,<br />
+The good sword stood a hand-breadth out behind the Tuscan's<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">head.</span><br />
+And the great Lord of Luna fell at that deadly stroke,<br />
+As falls on Mount Alvernus a thunder-smitten oak.<br />
+Far o'er the crashing forest the giant arms lie spread;<br />
+And the pale augurs, muttering low, gaze on the blasted head.<br />
+On Astur's throat Horatius right firmly press'd his heel,<br />
+And thrice and four times tugg'd amain, ere he wrench'd out<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">the steel.</span><br />
+"And see," he cried, "the welcome, fair guests, that waits you<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">here!</span><br />
+What noble Lucumo comes next to taste our Roman cheer?"</p>
+
+<p>But at his haughty challenge a sullen murmur ran,<br />
+Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, along that glittering van.<br />
+There lack'd not men of prowess, nor men of lordly race;<br />
+For all Etruria's noblest were round the fatal place.<br />
+But all Etruria's noblest felt their hearts sink to see<br />
+On the earth the bloody corpses, in the path the dauntless<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Three:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>
+And, from the ghastly entrance where those bold Romans stood,<br />
+All shrank, like boys who unaware, ranging the woods to start<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">a hare,</span><br />
+Come to the mouth of the dark lair where, growling low, a fierce<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">old bear</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Lies amidst bones and blood.</span><br />
+Was none who would be foremost to lead such dire attack:<br />
+But those behind cried "Forward!" and those before cried<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">"Back!"</span><br />
+And backward now and forward wavers the deep array;<br />
+And on the tossing sea of steel, to and fro the standards reel;<br />
+And the victorious trumpet-peal dies fitfully away.</p>
+
+<p>Yet one man for one moment stood out before the crowd;<br />
+Well known was he to all the Three, and they gave him greeting<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">loud.</span><br />
+"Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! now welcome to thy home!<br />
+Why dost thou stay, and turn away? here lies the road to Rome."<br />
+Thrice look'd he at the city; thrice look'd he at the dead;<br />
+And thrice came on in fury, and thrice turn'd back in dread;<br />
+And, white with fear and hatred, scowl'd at the narrow way<br />
+Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, the bravest Tuscans lay.</p>
+
+<p>But meanwhile axe and lever have manfully been plied;<br />
+And now the bridge hangs tottering above the boiling tide.<br />
+"Come back, come back, Horatius!" loud cried the Fathers all.<br />
+"Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! back, ere the ruin fall!"<br />
+Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back:<br />
+And, as they pass'd, beneath their feet they felt the timbers<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">crack.</span><br />
+But when they turn'd their faces, and on the farther shore<br />
+Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have cross'd once<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">more.</span><br />
+But with a crash like thunder fell every loosen'd beam,<br />
+And, like a dam, the mighty wreck lay right athwart the stream:<br />
+And a long shout of triumph rose from the walls of Rome,<br />
+As to the highest turret-tops was splash'd the yellow foam.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
+And, like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rein,<br />
+The furious river struggled hard, and toss'd his tawny mane,<br />
+And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free,<br />
+And whirling down, in fierce career, battlement, and plank, and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">pier,</span><br />
+Rush'd headlong to the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind;<br />
+Thrice thirty thousand foes before, and the broad flood behind.<br />
+"Down with him!" cried false Sextus, with a smile on his pale<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">face.</span><br />
+"Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "now yield thee to our<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">grace."</span><br />
+Round turn'd he, as not deigning those craven ranks to see;<br />
+Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, to Sextus nought spake he;<br />
+But he saw on Palatinus the white porch of his home;<br />
+And he spake to the noble river that rolls by the towers of<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Rome.</span><br />
+"O Tiber! father Tiber! to whom the Romans pray,<br />
+A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day!"<br />
+So he spake, and speaking sheathed the good sword by his side,<br />
+And with his harness on his back plunged headlong in the tide.</p>
+
+<p>No sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank;<br />
+But friends and foes in dumb surprise, with parted lips and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">straining eyes,</span><br />
+Stood gazing where he sank;<br />
+And when above the surges they saw his crest appear,<br />
+All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, and even the ranks of<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Tuscany</span><br />
+Could scarce forbear to cheer.<br />
+But fiercely ran the current, swollen high by months of rain:<br />
+And fast his blood was flowing, and he was sore in pain,<br />
+And heavy with his armor, and spent with changing blows:<br />
+And oft they thought him sinking, but still again he rose.<br />
+Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case,<br />
+Struggle through such a raging flood safe to the landing-place:<br />
+But his limbs were borne up bravely by the brave heart within,<br />
+And our good father Tiber bare bravely up his chin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>
+"Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus; "will not the villain<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">drown?</span><br />
+But for this stay, ere close of day we should have sack'd the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">town!"</span><br />
+"Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "and bring him safe<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">to shore;</span><br />
+For such a gallant feat of arms was never seen before."<br />
+And now he feels the bottom; now on dry earth he stands;<br />
+Now round him throng the Fathers to press his gory hands;<br />
+And now, with shouts and clapping, and noise of weeping loud,<br />
+He enters through the River-Gate, borne by the joyous crowd.</p>
+
+<p>They gave him of the corn-land, that was of public right,<br />
+As much as two strong oxen could plough from morn till night;<br />
+And they made a molten image, and set it up on high,<br />
+And there it stands unto this day to witness if I lie.<br />
+It stands in the Comitium, plain for all folk to see;<br />
+Horatius in his harness, halting upon one knee:<br />
+And underneath is written, in letters all of gold,<br />
+How valiantly he kept the bridge in the brave days of old.</p>
+
+<p>And still his name sounds stirring unto the men of Rome,<br />
+As the trumpet-blast that cries to them to charge the Volscian<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">home;</span><br />
+And wives still pray to Juno for boys with hearts as bold<br />
+As his who kept the bridge so well in the brave days of old.<br />
+And in the nights of winter, when the cold north-winds blow,<br />
+And the long howling of the wolves is heard amidst the snow;<br />
+When round the lonely cottage roars loud the tempest's din,<br />
+And the good logs of Algidus roar louder yet within;<br />
+When the oldest cask is open'd, and the largest lamp is lit;<br />
+When the chestnuts glow in the embers, and the kid turns on<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">the spit;</span><br />
+When young and old in circle around the firebrands close;<br />
+When the girls are weaving baskets, and the lads are shaping<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">bows;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
+When the goodman mends his armor, and trims his helmet's<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">plume;</span><br />
+When the goodwife's shuttle merrily goes flashing through the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">loom;</span><br />
+With weeping and with laughter still is the story told,<br />
+How well Horatius kept the bridge in the brave days of old.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_L_49" id="Footnote_L_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L_49"><span class="label">[L]</span></a> For the sake of space a change has been made from the usual form of the
+poem.</p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lii" id="lii"></a><a href="#anchor_lii">LII</a>. THE RAVEN.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Edgar Allan Poe</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1809-1849.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 600px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder'd, weak and weary,<br />
+Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,<br />
+As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber-door.<br />
+"'Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, "tapping at my chamber-door,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Only this, and nothing more."</span></p>
+
+<p>Ah! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,<br />
+And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.<br />
+Eagerly I wish'd the morrow: vainly I had sought to borrow<br />
+From my books surcease of sorrow,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>sorrow for the lost Lenore;<br />
+For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Nameless here forevermore.</span></p>
+
+<p>And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain<br />
+Thrill'd me<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>fill'd me with fantastic terrors never felt before;<br />
+So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,<br />
+"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber-door,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Some late visitor, entreating entrance at my chamber-door;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">This it is, and nothing more."</span></p>
+
+<p>Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer,<br />
+"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>
+But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,<br />
+And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber-door,<br />
+That I scarce was sure I heard you";<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>here I open'd wide the door;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Darkness there, and nothing more.</span></p>
+
+<p>Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">fearing,</span><br />
+Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;<br />
+But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,<br />
+And the only word there spoken was the whisper'd word "Lenore?"<br />
+This I whisper'd, and an echo murmur'd back the word "Lenore!"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Merely this, and nothing more.</span></p>
+
+<p>Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,<br />
+Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before.<br />
+"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window-lattice;<br />
+Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">'Tis the wind, and nothing more."</span></p>
+
+<p>Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,<br />
+In there stepp'd a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.<br />
+Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopp'd or stay'd he,<br />
+But, with mien of lord or lady, perch'd above my chamber-door;<br />
+Perch'd upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber-door;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Perch'd, and sat, and nothing more.</span></p>
+
+<p>Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,<br />
+By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,<br />
+"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">no craven,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
+Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">shore;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."</span></p>
+
+<p>Much I marvell'd this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,<br />
+Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;<br />
+For we can not help agreeing that no living human being<br />
+Ever yet was bless'd with seeing bird above his chamber-door,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber-door,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">With such name as "Nevermore."</span></p>
+
+<p>But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only<br />
+That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.<br />
+Nothing further then he utter'd, not a feather then he flutter'd,<br />
+Till I scarcely more than mutter'd, "Other friends have flown before:<br />
+On the morrow <i>he</i> will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Then the bird said, "Nevermore."</span></p>
+
+<p>Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,<br />
+"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,<br />
+Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful Disaster<br />
+Follow'd fast, and follow'd faster, till his songs one burden bore,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Of</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>'Never<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Nevermore.'"</p>
+
+<p>But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,<br />
+Straight I wheel'd a cushion'd seat in front of bird, and bust,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">and door;</span><br />
+Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking<br />
+Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">of yore</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Meant in croaking "Nevermore."</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
+This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing<br />
+To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burn'd into my bosom's core:<br />
+This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining<br />
+On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er;<br />
+But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp-light gloating o'er,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;"><i>She</i> shall press</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>ah! nevermore.</p>
+
+<p>Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">censer</span><br />
+Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.<br />
+"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>by these angels<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">he hath sent thee</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Respite, respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!<br />
+Quaff, Oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."</span></p>
+
+<p>"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>prophet still, if bird or devil!<br />
+Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest toss'd thee here<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">ashore,</span><br />
+Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted,<br />
+On this home by Horror haunted,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>tell me truly, I implore,<br />
+Is there<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>is</i> there balm in Gilead? tell me<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>tell me, I implore!"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."</span></p>
+
+<p>"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>prophet still, if bird or devil!<br />
+By that heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore,<br />
+Tell this soul, with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,<br />
+It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore."<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."</span></p>
+
+<p>"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shriek'd,<br /> <span style="padding-left: 6em;">upstarting,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>
+Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!<br />
+Leave my loneliness unbroken!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>quit the bust above my door!<br />
+Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">my door!"</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."</span></p>
+
+<p>And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting<br />
+On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-door;<br />
+And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,<br />
+And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">floor:</span><br />
+And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Shall be lifted</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">nevermore</span>!</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="liii" id="liii"></a><a href="#anchor_liii">LIII</a>. DAVID SWAN<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>A FANTASY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Nathaniel Hawthorne</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1804-1864.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> "<span class="smcap">Twice-Told Tales</span>."</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">We</span> can be but partially acquainted even with the
+events which actually influence our course through life,
+and our final destiny. There are innumerable other
+events, if such they may be called, which come close
+upon us, yet pass away without actual results, or even
+betraying their near approach by the reflection of any
+light or shadow across our minds. Could we know all
+the vicissitudes of our fortunes, life would be too full of
+hope and fear, exultation or disappointment, to afford us
+a single hour of true serenity. This idea may be illustrated
+by a page from the secret history of David Swan.</p>
+
+<p>We have nothing to do with David until we find him,
+at the age of twenty, on the high road from his native<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+place to the city of Boston, where his uncle, a small
+dealer in the grocery line, was to take him behind the
+counter. Be it enough to say, that he was a native of
+New Hampshire, born of respectable parents, and had
+received an ordinary school education, with a classic finish
+by a year at Gilmanton Academy. After journeying on
+foot from sunrise till nearly noon of a summer's day, his
+weariness and the increasing heat determined him to sit
+down in the first convenient shade, and await the coming
+up of the stage-coach. As if planted on purpose for
+him, there soon appeared a little tuft of maples, with a
+delightful recess in the midst, and such a fresh bubbling
+spring, that it seemed never to have sparkled for any
+wayfarer but David Swan. Virgin or not, he kissed it
+with his thirsty lips, and then flung himself along the
+brink, pillowing his head upon some shirts and a pair of
+pantaloons, tied up in a striped cotton handkerchief. The
+sunbeams could not reach him; the dust did not yet rise
+from the road, after the heavy rain of yesterday; and his
+grassy lair suited the young man better than a bed of
+down. The spring murmured drowsily beside him; the
+branches waved dreamily across the blue sky overhead;
+and a deep sleep, perchance hiding dreams within its
+depths, fell upon David Swan. But we are to relate
+events which he did not dream of.</p>
+
+<p>While he lay sound asleep in the shade, other people
+were wide-awake, and passed to an fro, afoot, on horseback,
+and in all sorts of vehicles, along the sunny road
+by his bed-chamber. Some looked neither to the right
+hand nor to the left, and knew not that he was there;
+some merely glanced that way, without admitting the
+slumberer among their busy thoughts; some laughed to
+see how soundly he slept; and several, whose hearts were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
+brimming full of scorn, ejected their venomous superfluity
+upon David Swan. A middle-aged widow, when
+nobody else was near, thrust her head a little way into
+the recess, and vowed that the young fellow looked charming
+in his sleep. A temperance lecturer saw him, and
+wrought poor David into the texture of his evening's
+discourse, as an awful instance of dead-drunkenness by
+the road-side. But censure, praise, merriment, scorn, and
+indifference, were all one, or rather all nothing, to David
+Swan.</p>
+
+<p>He had slept only a few moments when a brown carriage,
+drawn by a handsome pair of horses, bowled easily
+along, and was brought to a stand-still nearly in front of
+David's resting-place. A linch-pin had fallen out, and
+permitted one of the wheels to slide off. The damage
+was slight, and occasioned merely a momentary alarm to
+an elderly merchant and his wife, who were returning to
+Boston in the carriage. While the coachman and a servant
+were replacing the wheel, the lady and gentleman
+sheltered themselves beneath the maple-trees, and there
+espied the bubbling fountain, and David Swan asleep beside
+it. Impressed with the awe which the humblest
+sleeper usually sheds around him, the merchant trod as
+lightly as the gout would allow; and his spouse took
+good heed not to rustle her silk gown, lest David should
+start up, all of a sudden.</p>
+
+<p>"How soundly he sleeps!" whispered the old gentleman.
+"From what a depth he draws that easy breath!
+Such sleep as that, brought on without an opiate, would
+be worth more to me than half my income, for it would
+suppose health and an untroubled mind."</p>
+
+<p>"And youth besides," said the lady. "Healthy and
+quiet age does not sleep thus. Our slumber is no more
+like his than our wakefulness."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>The longer they looked, the more did this elderly couple
+feel interested in the unknown youth, to whom the wayside
+and the maple shade were as a secret chamber, with
+the rich gloom of damask curtains brooding over him.
+Perceiving that a stray sunbeam glimmered down upon
+his face, the lady contrived to twist a branch aside, so as
+to intercept it. And having done this little act of kindness,
+she began to feel like a mother to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Providence seems to have laid him here," whispered
+she to her husband, "and to have brought us hither to
+find him, after our disappointment in our cousin's son.
+Methinks I can see a likeness to our departed Henry.
+Shall we waken him?"</p>
+
+<p>"To what purpose?" said the merchant, hesitating.
+"We know nothing of the youth's character."</p>
+
+<p>"That open countenance!" replied his wife, in the same
+hushed voice, yet earnestly. "This innocent sleep!"</p>
+
+<p>While these whispers were passing, the sleeper's heart
+did not throb, nor his breath become agitated, nor his
+features betray the least token of interest. Yet Fortune
+was bending over him, just ready to let fall a burthen of
+gold. The old merchant had lost his only son, and had
+no heir to his wealth, except a distant relative, with whose
+conduct he was dissatisfied. In such cases, people sometimes
+do stranger things than to act the magician, and
+awaken a young man to splendor, who fell asleep in
+poverty.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we not waken him?" repeated the lady, persuasively.</p>
+
+<p>"The coach is ready, sir," said the servant, behind.</p>
+
+<p>The old couple started, reddened, and hurried away,
+mutually wondering that they should ever have dreamed
+of doing anything so very ridiculous. The merchant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>
+threw himself back in the carriage, and occupied his mind
+with the plan of a magnificent asylum for unfortunate
+men of business. Meanwhile, David Swan enjoyed his
+nap.</p>
+
+<p>The carriage could not have gone above a mile or two,
+when a pretty young girl came along with a tripping
+pace, which showed precisely how her little heart was
+dancing in her bosom. Perhaps it was this merry kind
+of motion that caused<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>is there any harm in saying it?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>her
+garter to slip its knot. Conscious that the silken
+girth, if silk it were, was relaxing its hold, she turned
+aside into the shelter of the maple-trees, and there found
+a young man asleep by the spring! Blushing as red as
+any rose, that she should have intruded into a gentleman's
+bed-chamber, and for such a purpose, too, she was
+about to make her escape on tiptoe. But there was peril
+near the sleeper. A monster of a bee had been wandering
+overhead<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>buzz, buzz, buzz<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>now among the leaves,
+now flashing through the strips of sunshine, and now lost
+in the dark shade, till finally he appeared to be settling
+on the eyelid of David Swan. The sting of a bee is
+sometimes deadly. As free-hearted as she was innocent,
+the girl attacked the intruder with her handkerchief,
+brushed him soundly, and drove him from the maple shade.
+How sweet a picture! This good deed accomplished,
+with quickened breath, and a deeper blush, she stole a
+glance at the youthful stranger, for whom she had been
+battling with a dragon in the air.</p>
+
+<p>"He is handsome!" thought she, and blushed redder yet.</p>
+
+<p>How could it be that no dream of bliss grew so strong
+within him, that, shattered by its very strength, it should
+part asunder, and allow him to perceive the girl among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
+its phantoms? Why, at least, did no smile of welcome
+brighten upon his face? She was come, the maid whose
+soul, according to the old and beautiful idea, had been
+severed from his own, and whom, in all his vague but
+passionate desires, he yearned to meet. Her only could
+he love with a perfect love<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>him only could she receive
+into the depths of her heart<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and now her image was
+faintly blushing in the fountain by his side; should it
+pass away, its happy lustre would never gleam upon his
+life again.</p>
+
+<p>"How sound he sleeps!" murmured the girl.</p>
+
+<p>She departed, but did not trip along the road so lightly
+as when she came.</p>
+
+<p>Now, this girl's father was a thriving country merchant
+in the neighborhood, and happened, at that identical
+time, to be looking out for just such a young man as
+David Swan. Had David formed a wayside acquaintance
+with the daughter, he would have become the
+father's clerk, and all else in natural succession. So
+here, again, had good fortune<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the best of fortunes<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>stolen
+so near, that her garments brushed against him;
+and he knew nothing of the matter.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was hardly out of sight, when two men turned
+aside beneath the maple shade. Both had dark faces, set
+off by cloth caps, which were drawn down aslant over
+their brows. Their dresses were shabby, yet had a certain
+smartness. These were a couple of rascals, who
+got their living by whatever the devil sent them, and now,
+in the interim of other business, had staked the joint
+profits of their next piece of villainy on a game of cards,
+which was to have been decided here under the trees.
+But, finding David asleep by the spring, one of the rogues
+whispered to his fellow<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>"Hist!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Do you see that bundle under his head?"</p>
+
+<p>The other villain nodded, winked, and leered.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bet you a horn of brandy," said the first, "that
+the chap has either a pocket-book or a snug little hoard
+of small change, stowed away amongst his shirts. And if
+not there, we shall find it in his pantaloons' pocket."</p>
+
+<p>"But how if he wakes?" said the other.</p>
+
+<p>His companion thrust aside his waistcoat, pointed to
+the handle of a dirk, and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"So be it!" muttered the second villain.</p>
+
+<p>They approached the unconscious David, and, while
+one pointed the dagger towards his heart, the other began
+to search the bundle beneath his head. Their two faces,
+grim, wrinkled, and ghastly with guilt and fear, bent over
+their victim, looking horribly enough to be mistaken for
+fiends, should he suddenly awake. Nay, had the villains
+glanced aside into the spring, even they would hardly
+have known themselves, as reflected there. But David
+Swan had never worn a more tranquil aspect, even when
+asleep on his mother's breast.</p>
+
+<p>"I must take away the bundle," whispered one.</p>
+
+<p>"If he stirs, I'll strike," muttered the other.</p>
+
+<p>But, at this moment, a dog, scenting along the ground,
+came in beneath the maple-trees, and gazed alternately
+at each of these wicked men, and then at the quiet sleeper.
+He then lapped out of the fountain.</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw!" said one villain. "We can do nothing now.
+The dog's master must be close behind."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's take a drink, and be off," said the other.</p>
+
+<p>The man with the dagger thrust back the weapon into
+his bosom, and drew forth a pocket-pistol, but not of that
+kind which kills by a single discharge. It was a flask of
+liquor, with a block-tin tumbler screwed upon the mouth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>
+Each drank a comfortable dram, and left the spot, with
+so many jests, and such laughter at their unaccomplished
+wickedness, that they might be said to have gone on their
+way rejoicing. In a few hours they had forgotten the
+whole affair, nor once imagined that the recording angel
+had written down the crime of murder against their
+souls, in letters as durable as eternity. As for David
+Swan, he still slept quietly, neither conscious of the shadow
+of death when it hung over him, nor of the glow of
+renewed life when that shadow was withdrawn.</p>
+
+<p>He slept, but no longer so quietly as at first. An hour's
+repose had snatched from his elastic frame the weariness
+with which many hours of toil had burthened it. Now he
+stirred<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>now moved his lips, without a sound<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>now
+talked in an inward tone to the noonday spectres of his
+dream. But a noise of wheels came rattling louder and
+louder along the road, until it dashed through the dispersing
+mist of David's slumber<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and there was the stage-coach.
+He started up, with all his ideas about him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo, driver! Take a passenger?" shouted he.</p>
+
+<p>"Room on top!" answered the driver.</p>
+
+<p>Up mounted David, and bowled away merrily towards
+Boston, without so much as a parting glance at that
+fountain of dreamlike vicissitude. He knew not that a
+phantom of Wealth had thrown a golden hue upon its
+waters, nor that one of Love had sighed softly to their
+murmur, nor that one of Death had threatened to crimson
+them with his blood<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>all, in the brief hour since he lay
+down to sleep. Sleeping or waking, we hear not the
+airy footsteps of the strange things that almost happen.
+Does it not argue a superintending Providence, that,
+while viewless and unexpected events thrust themselves
+continually athwart our path, there should still be regu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>larity
+enough in mortal life, to render foresight even partially
+available?</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="liv" id="liv"></a><a href="#anchor_liv">LIV</a>. MY KATE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Elizabeth Barrett Browning</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1809-1861.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 520px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">She</span> was not as pretty as women I know,<br />
+And yet all your best made of sunshine and snow<br />
+Drop to shade, melt to nought in the long-trodden ways,<br />
+While she's still remember'd on warm and cold days<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 26em;">My Kate.</span></p>
+
+<p>Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace;<br />
+You turn'd from the fairest to gaze on her face:<br />
+And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth,<br />
+You saw as distinctly her soul and her truth<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 26em;">My Kate.</span></p>
+
+<p>Such a blue inner light from her eyelids outbroke,<br />
+You look'd at her silence and fancied she spoke:<br />
+When she did, so peculiar yet soft was the tone,<br />
+Though the loudest spoke also, you heard her alone<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 26em;">My Kate.</span></p>
+
+<p>I doubt if she said to you much that could act<br />
+As a thought or suggestion: she did not attract<br />
+In the sense of the brilliant or wise: I infer<br />
+'Twas her thinking of others, made you think of her<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 26em;">My Kate.</span></p>
+
+<p>She never found fault with you, never implied<br />
+Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side<br />
+Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town<br />
+The children were gladder that pull'd at her gown<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 26em;">My Kate.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>
+None knelt at her feet confess'd lovers in thrall;<br />
+They knelt more to God than they used,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that was all;<br />
+If you praised her as charming, some ask'd what you meant,<br />
+But the charm of her presence was felt when she went<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 26em;">My Kate.</span></p>
+
+<p>The weak and the gentle, the ribald and rude,<br />
+She took as she found them, and did them all good:<br />
+It always was so with her: see what you have!<br />
+She has made the grass greener even here ... with her grave<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 26em;">My Kate.</span></p>
+
+<p>My dear one!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>when thou wast alive with the rest,<br />
+I held thee the sweetest and lov'd thee the best:<br />
+And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy part<br />
+As thy smiles used to do for thyself, my sweet Heart<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 26em;">My Kate?</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lv" id="lv"></a><a href="#anchor_lv">LV</a>. A DEAD ROSE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Mrs. Browning</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 460px;">
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">O</span> <span class="smcap">Rose</span>, who dares to name thee?<br />
+No longer roseate now, nor soft nor sweet,<br />
+But pale and hard and dry as stubble wheat,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">The breeze that used to blow thee</span><br />
+Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away<br />
+An odor up the lane to last all day,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">If breathing now, unsweeten'd would forego thee.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">The sun that used to smite thee,</span><br />
+And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn<br />
+Till beam appear'd to bloom, and flower to burn,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">If shining now, with not a hue would light thee.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The dew that used to wet thee,</span><br />
+And, white first, grow incarnadined because<br />
+It lay upon thee where the crimson was,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">If dropping now, would darken where it met thee.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">The fly that 'lit upon thee</span><br />
+To stretch the tendrils of its tiny feet<br />
+Along thy leafs pure edges after heat,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">If 'lighting now, would coldly overrun thee.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">The bee that once did suck thee,</span><br />
+And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive,<br />
+And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">If passing now, would blindly overlook thee.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">The heart doth recognize thee,</span><br />
+Alone, alone! the heart doth smell thee sweet,<br />
+Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 1em;">Perceiving all those changes that disguise thee.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 2em;">Yes, and the heart doth owe thee</span><br />
+More love, dead rose, than to any roses bold<br />
+Which Julia wears at dances, smiling cold:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Lie still upon this heart which breaks below thee!</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lvi" id="lvi"></a><a href="#anchor_lvi">LVI</a>. TO THE EVENING WIND.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1794-1878.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 500px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Spirit</span> that breathest through my lattice, thou<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,</span><br />
+Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,</span><br />
+Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,</span><br />
+And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee<br />
+To the scorch'd land, thou wanderer of the sea.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
+Nor I alone;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a thousand bosoms round<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Inhale thee in the fulness of delight;</span><br />
+And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Livelier at coming of the wind of night;</span><br />
+And languishing to hear thy grateful sound,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Lies the vast inland stretch'd beyond the sight.</span><br />
+Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth,<br />
+God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!</p>
+
+<p>Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse</span><br />
+The wide old wood from his majestic rest,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Summoning from the innumerable boughs</span><br />
+The strange deep harmonies that haunt his breast;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows</span><br />
+The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,<br />
+And where the o'er-shadowing branches sweep the grass.</p>
+
+<p>The faint old man shall lean his silver head<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,</span><br />
+And dry the moisten'd curls that overspread<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;</span><br />
+And they who stand about the sick man's bed<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,</span><br />
+And softly part his curtains to allow<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>Go,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but the circle of eternal change,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Which is the life of nature, shall restore,</span><br />
+With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more;</span><br />
+Sweet odors in the sea-air, sweet and strange,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shall tell the homesick mariner of the shore;</span><br />
+And, listening to thy murmur, he shall dream<br />
+He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lvii" id="lvii"></a><a href="#anchor_lvii">LVII</a>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>DEATH OF THE PROTECTOR.<a name="FNanchor_M_50" id="FNanchor_M_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_M_50" class="fnanchor">[M]</a></h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas Carlyle</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1795-1881.</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">And</span> so we have now nothing more;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and Oliver has
+nothing more. His Speakings, and also his Actings, all
+his manifold Strugglings, more or less victorious, to utter
+the great God's-Message that was in him,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>have here
+what we call ended. This Summer of 1658, likewise victorious
+after struggle, is his last in our World of Time.
+Thenceforth he enters the Eternities; and rests upon his
+arms <i>there</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver's look was yet strong; and young for his years,
+which were Fifty-nine last April. The "Three-score and
+ten years," the Psalmist's limit, which probably was often
+in Oliver's thoughts and in those of others there, might
+have been anticipated for him: Ten Years more of Life;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>which,
+we may compute, would have given another
+History to all the Centuries of England. But it was not
+to be so, it was to be otherwise. Oliver's health, as we
+might observe, was but uncertain in late times; often
+"indisposed" the spring before last. His course of life
+had not been favorable to health! "A burden too heavy
+for man!" as he himself, with a sigh, would sometimes
+say. Incessant toil; inconceivable labor, of head and
+heart and hand; toil, peril, and sorrow manifold, continued
+for near Twenty years now, had done their part: those
+robust life-energies, it afterwards appeared, had been
+gradually eaten out. Like a Tower strong to the eye, but
+with its foundations undermined; which has not long to
+stand; the fall of which, on any shock, may be sudden.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>The Manzinis and Ducs de Crequi, with their splendors,
+and congratulations about Dunkirk, interesting
+to the street-populations and general public, had not
+yet withdrawn, when at Hampton Court there had begun
+a private scene, of much deeper and quite opposite
+interest there. The Lady Claypole, Oliver's favorite
+Daughter, a favorite of all the world, had fallen sick we
+know not when; lay sick now,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>to death, as it proved.
+Her disease was of a nature, the painfullest and most
+harassing to mind and sense, it is understood, that falls to
+the lot of a human creature. Hampton Court we can
+fancy once more, in those July days, a house of sorrow;
+pale Death knocking there, as at the door of the meanest
+hut. "She had great sufferings, great exercises of spirit."
+Yes:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and in the depths of the old Centuries, we see a
+pale anxious Mother, anxious Husband, anxious weeping
+Sisters, a poor young Frances weeping anew in her weeds.
+"For the last fourteen days" his Highness had been by her
+bedside at Hampton Court, unable to attend to any public
+business whatever. Be still, my Child; trust thou yet in
+God: in the waves of the Dark River, there too is He a
+God of help!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>On the 6th day of August she lay dead;
+at rest forever. My young, my beautiful, my brave! She
+is taken from me; I am left bereaved of her. The Lord
+giveth, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the Name
+of the Lord!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>...</p>
+
+<p>In the same dark days, occurred George Fox's third
+and last interview with Oliver.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>.... George dates nothing;
+and his facts everywhere lie round him like the leather-parings
+of his old shop: but we judge it may have been
+about the time when the Manzinis and the Ducs de Crequi
+were parading in their gilt coaches, That George and two
+Friends "going out of Town," on a summer day, "two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>
+of Hacker's men" had met them,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>taken them, brought
+them to the Mews. "Prisoners there awhile:"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but the
+Lord's power was over Hacker's men; they had to let us
+go. Whereupon:</p>
+
+<p>"The same day, taking boat I went down" (<i>up</i>) "to Kingston,
+and from thence to Hampton Court, to speak with
+the Protector about the Sufferings of Friends. I met him
+riding into Hampton-Court Park; and before I came to
+him, as he rode at the head of his Lifeguard, I saw and
+felt a waft" (<i>whiff</i>) "of death go forth against him."<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins>Or
+in favor of him, George? His life, if thou knew
+it, has not been a merry thing for this man, now or heretofore!
+I fancy he has been looking, this long while, to
+give it up, whenever the Commander-in-Chief required.
+To quit his laborious sentry-post; honorably lay-up his
+arms, and be gone to his rest:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>all Eternity to rest in, O
+George! Was thy own life merry, for example, in the
+hollow of the tree; clad permanently in leather? And
+does kingly purple, and governing refractory worlds instead
+of stitching coarse shoes, make it merrier? The
+waft of death is not against <i>him</i>, I think,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>perhaps against
+thee, and me, and others, O George, when the Nell-Gwynn
+Defender and Two Centuries of all-victorious Cant have
+come in upon us! My unfortunate George<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins>"a waft
+of death go forth against him; and when I came to him,
+he looked like a dead man. After I had laid the Sufferings
+of Friends before him, and had warned him according
+as I was moved to speak to him, he bade me come to
+his house. So I returned to Kingston; and, the next day,
+went up to Hampton Court to speak farther with him.
+But when I came, Harvey, who was one that waited on
+him, told me the Doctors were not willing that I should
+speak with him. So I passed away, and never saw him
+more."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>Friday the 20th of August 1658, this was probably
+the day on which George Fox saw Oliver riding into
+Hampton Park with his Guards, for the last time. That
+Friday, as we find, his Highness seemed much better:
+but on the morrow a sad change had taken place; feverish
+symptoms, for which the Doctors rigorously prescribed
+quiet. Saturday to Tuesday the symptoms continued
+ever worsening: a kind of tertian ague, "bastard tertian"
+as the old Doctors name it; for which it was ordered
+that his Highness should return to Whitehall, as to a
+more favorable air in that complaint. On Tuesday accordingly
+he quitted Hampton Court;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>never to see it
+more.</p>
+
+<p>"His time was come," says Harvey; "and neither
+prayers nor tears could prevail with God to lengthen out
+his life and continue him longer to us. Prayers abundantly
+and incessantly poured out on his behalf, both
+publicly and privately, as was observed, in a more than
+ordinary way. Besides many a secret sigh,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>secret and
+unheard by men, yet like the cry of Moses, more loud,
+and strongly laying hold on God, than many spoken supplications.
+All which,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the hearts of God's People being
+thus mightily stirred up,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>did seem to beget confidence
+in some, and hopes in all; yea some thoughts in himself,
+that God would restore him."</p>
+
+<p>"Prayers public and private:" they are worth imagining
+to ourselves. Meetings of Preachers, Chaplains, and
+Godly Persons; "Owen, Goodwin, Sterry, with a company
+of others, in an adjoining room"; in Whitehall, and
+elsewhere over religious London and England, fervent
+outpourings of many a loyal heart. For there were hearts
+to whom the nobleness of this man was known; and
+his worth to the Puritan Cause was evident. Prayers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>strange
+enough to us; in a dialect fallen obsolete, forgotten
+now. Authentic wrestlings of ancient Human
+Souls,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who were alive then, with their affections, awestruck
+pieties; with their Human Wishes, risen to be
+<i>transcendent</i>, hoping to prevail with the Inexorable. All
+swallowed now in the depths of dark Time; which is full
+of such, since the beginning!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Truly it is a great scene
+of World-History, this in old Whitehall: Oliver Cromwell
+drawing nigh to his end. The exit of Oliver Cromwell
+and of English Puritanism; a great Light, one of
+our few authentic Solar Luminaries, going down now
+amid the clouds of Death. Like the setting of a great
+victorious Summer Sun; its course now finished. "<i>So
+stirbt ein Held</i>," says Schiller, "So dies a Hero! Sight
+worthy to be worshipped!"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>He died, this Hero Oliver,
+in Resignation to God; as the Brave have all done. "We
+could not be more desirous he should abide," says the
+pious Harvey, "than he was content and willing to be
+gone." The struggle lasted, amid hope and fear, for ten
+days....</p>
+
+<p>On Monday August 30th, there roared and howled all
+day a mighty storm of wind.... It was on this stormy
+Monday, while rocking winds, heard in the sickroom and
+everywhere, were piping aloud, that Thurloe and an
+Official person entered to enquire, Who, in case of the
+worst, was to be his Highness's Successor? The Successor
+is named in a sealed Paper already drawn-up, above
+a year ago, at Hampton Court; now lying in such and
+such a place. The Paper was sent for, searched for; it
+could never be found. Richard's is the name understood
+to have been written in that Paper: not a good name;
+but in fact one does not know. In ten years' time, had
+ten years more been granted, Richard might have become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>
+a fitter man; might have been cancelled, if palpably unfit.
+Or perhaps it was Fleetwood's name,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and the Paper,
+by certain parties, was stolen? None knows. On the
+Thursday night following, "and not till then," his Highness
+is understood to have formally named "Richard",<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>or
+perhaps it might only be some heavy-laden "Yes,
+yes!" spoken, out of the thick death-slumbers, in answer
+to Thurloe's <i>question</i> "Richard?" The thing is a little
+uncertain. It was, once more, a matter of much moment;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>giving
+color probably to all the subsequent
+Centuries of England, this answer!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>...</p>
+
+<p>Thursday night the Writer of our old Pamphlet
+[Harvey] was himself in attendance on his Highness;
+and has preserved a trait or two; with which let us hasten
+to conclude. Tomorrow is September Third, always
+kept as a Thanksgiving day, since the Victories of Dunbar
+and Worcester. The wearied one, "that very night
+before the Lord took him to his everlasting rest," was
+heard thus, with oppressed voice, speaking:</p>
+
+<p>"'Truly God is good; indeed He is; He will not'<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins>Then
+his speech failed him, but as I apprehended, it was,
+'He will not leave me.' This saying, 'God is good,' he
+frequently used all along; and would speak it with much
+cheerfulness, and fervor of spirit, in the midst of his
+pains.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Again he said: 'I would be willing to live to be
+farther serviceable to God and His People: but my work
+is done. Yet God will be with His People.'</p>
+
+<p>"He was very restless most part of the night, speaking
+often to himself. And there being something to drink
+offered him, he was desired To take the same, and endeavor
+to sleep.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Unto which he answered: 'It is not
+my design to drink or sleep; but my design is, to make
+what haste I can to be gone.'<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>"Afterwards, towards morning, he used divers holy expressions,
+implying much inward consolation and peace;
+among the rest he spake some exceeding self-debasing
+words, <i>annihilating</i> and judging himself. And truly it
+was observed, that a public spirit to God's Cause did
+breathe in him,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>as in his lifetime, so now to his very
+last."</p>
+
+<p>When the morrow's sun rose, Oliver was speechless;
+between three and four in the afternoon, he lay dead.
+Friday 3rd September 1658. "The consternation and
+astonishment of all people," writes Fauconberg, "are inexpressible;
+their hearts seem as if sunk within them.
+My poor Wife,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I know not what on earth to do with
+her. When seemingly quieted, she bursts out again into
+a passion that tears her very heart in pieces."<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Husht,
+poor weeping Mary! Here is a Life-battle right nobly
+done. Seest thou not,</p>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 260px; font-size: smaller;">
+<p>"The storm is changed into a calm,<br />
+At His command and will;<br />
+So that the waves which raged before<br />
+Now quiet are and still!</p>
+
+<p>"Then are <i>they</i> glad,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>because at rest<br />
+And quiet now they be:<br />
+So to the haven He them brings<br />
+Which they desired to see."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord;" blessed
+are the valiant that have lived in the Lord. "Amen,
+saith the Spirit,"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Amen. "They do rest from their
+labors, and their works follow them."</p>
+
+<p>"Their works follow them." As, I think, this Oliver Cromwell's
+works have done and are still doing! We have had
+our "Revolutions of Eighty-eight," officially called "glorious";
+and other Revolutions not yet called glorious;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
+and somewhat has been gained for poor Mankind. Men's
+ears are not now slit-off by rash Officiality; Officiality
+will, for long henceforth, be more cautious about men's
+ears. The tyrannous Star-chambers, branding-irons,
+chimerical Kings and Surplices at All-hallowtide, they
+are gone, or with immense velocity going. Oliver's
+works do follow him!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>The works of a man, bury them
+under what guano-mountains and obscene owl-droppings
+you will, do not perish, cannot perish. What of Heroism,
+what of Eternal Light was in a Man and his Life, is with
+very great exactness added to the Eternities; remains forever
+a new divine portion of the Sum of Things; and no
+owl's voice, this way or that, in the least avails in the
+matter.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>But we have to end here.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver is gone; and with him England's Puritanism,
+laboriously built together by this man, and made a thing
+far-shining, miraculous to its own Century, and memorable
+to all the Centuries, soon goes. Puritanism, without
+its King, is <i>kingless</i>, anarchic; falls into dislocation, self-collision;
+staggers, plunges into ever deeper anarchy;
+King, Defender of the Puritan Faith there can now none
+be found;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and nothing is left but to recall the old disowned
+Defender with the remnants of his Four Surplices, and
+Two Centuries of <i>Hypocrisis</i> (or Play-acting <i>not</i> so-called),
+and put-up with all that, the best we may. The Genius
+of England no longer soars Sunward, world-defiant, like
+an Eagle through the storms, "mewing her mighty
+youth," as John Milton saw her do: the Genius of England,
+much liker a greedy Ostrich intent on provender
+and a whole skin mainly, stands with its <i>other</i> extremity
+Sunward; with its Ostrich-head stuck into the readiest
+bush, of old Church-tippets, King-cloaks, or what other
+"sheltering Fallacy" there may be, and <i>so</i> awaits the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>
+issue. The issue has been slow; but it is now seen to
+have been inevitable. No Ostrich, intent on gross terrene
+provender, and sticking its head into Fallacies, but will be
+awakened one day,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in a terrible <ins class="translit" title="a grave"><i>&#224;</i></ins><i>-posteriori</i> manner, if
+not otherwise!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>--Awake before it come to that; gods
+and men bid us awake! The Voices of our Fathers, with
+thousand-fold stern monition to one and all, bid us awake.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_M_50" id="Footnote_M_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_M_50"><span class="label">[M]</span></a> The author's use of capital letters and punctuation marks has been retained.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lviii" id="lviii"></a><a href="#anchor_lviii">LVIII</a>. EACH AND ALL.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Ralph Waldo Emerson</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1803-1882.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 500px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Little</span> thinks, in the field, yon red-cloak'd clown<br />
+Of thee from the hill-top looking down;<br />
+The heifer that lows in the upland farm,<br />
+Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;<br />
+The sexton, tolling his bell at noon,<br />
+Deems not that great Napoleon<br />
+Stops his horse, and lists with delight,<br />
+While his files sweep round yon Alpine height;<br />
+Nor knowest thou what argument<br />
+Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent.<br />
+All are needed by each one<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Nothing is fair or good alone.</p>
+
+<p>I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,<br />
+Singing at dawn on the alder bough;<br />
+I brought him home in his nest, at even,<br />
+He sings the song, but it pleases not now;<br />
+For I did not bring home the river and sky;<br />
+He sang to my ear<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they sang to my eye.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>
+The delicate shells lay on the shore;<br />
+The bubbles of the latest wave<br />
+Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,<br />
+And the bellowing of the savage sea<br />
+Greeted their safe escape to me.<br />
+I wiped away the weeds and foam<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I fetch'd my sea-born treasures home;<br />
+But the poor unsightly, noisome things<br />
+Had left their beauty on the shore,<br />
+With the sun and the sand, and the wild uproar.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The lover watch'd his graceful maid,<br />
+As 'mid the virgin train she stray'd;<br />
+Nor knew her beauty's best attire<br />
+Was woven still by the snow-white choir.<br />
+At last she came to his hermitage,<br />
+Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;<br />
+The gay enchantment was undone<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+A gentle wife, but fairy none.</p>
+
+<p>Then I said, "I covet truth;<br />
+Beauty is unripe childhoods cheat<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I leave it behind with the games of youth."<br />
+As I spoke, beneath my feet<br />
+The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,<br />
+Running over the club-moss burrs;<br />
+I inhaled the violet's breath;<br />
+Around me stood the oaks and firs;<br />
+Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground;<br />
+Over me soar'd the eternal sky,<br />
+Full of light and of deity;<br />
+Again I saw, again I heard,<br />
+The rolling river, the morning bird;<br />
+Beauty through my senses stole<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I yielded myself to the perfect whole.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lix" id="lix"></a><a href="#anchor_lix">LIX</a>. WATERLOO.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Charles James Lever</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1806-1872.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Charles O'Malley</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p>"<span class="smcap">This</span> is the officer that I spoke of," said an aid-de-camp,
+as he rode up to where I was standing, bare-headed
+and without a sword. "He has just made his escape
+from the French lines, and will be able to give your
+lordship some information."</p>
+
+<p>The handsome features and gorgeous costume of Lord
+Uxbridge were known to me; but I was not aware, till
+afterwards, that a soldierlike, resolute looking officer beside
+him, was General Graham. It was the latter who
+first addressed me.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you aware, Sir," said he, "if Grouchy's force is
+arrived?"</p>
+
+<p>"They had not: on the contrary, shortly before I
+escaped, an aid-de-camp was despatched to Gembloux,
+to hasten his coming. And the troops, for they must be
+troops, debouching from the wood yonder<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they seem
+to form a junction with the corps to the right<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they
+are the Prussians. They arrived there before noon from
+St. Lambert, and are part of B<ins class="translit" title="u diaresis">&#252;</ins>low's corps. Count
+L<ins class="translit" title="o diaresis">&#246;</ins>bau and his division of ten thousand men were despatched,
+about an hour since, to hold them in check."</p>
+
+<p>"This is great news," said Lord Uxbridge. "Fitzroy
+must know it at once."</p>
+
+<p>So saying he dashed spurs into his horse, and soon disappeared
+amid the crowd on the hill top.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better see the Duke, Sir," said Graham:
+"your information is too important to be delayed. Captain
+Calvert, let this officer have a horse; his own is too
+tired to go much further."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>"And a cap, I beg of you," added I, in an under tone;
+"for I have already found a sabre."</p>
+
+<p>By a slight circuitous route, we reached the road upon
+which a mass of dismounted artillery-carts, baggage-wagons,
+and tumbrils, were heaped together as a barricade
+against the attack of the French dragoons, who more
+than once had penetrated to the very crest of our position.
+Close to this, and on a little rising ground, from
+which a view of the entire field extended from Hougoumont
+to the far left, the Duke of Wellington stood, surrounded
+by his staff. His eye was bent upon the valley
+before him, where the advancing columns of Ney's attack
+still pressed onwards; while the fire of sixty great guns
+poured death and carnage into his lines. The second
+Belgian division, routed and broken, had fallen back upon
+the twenty-seventh regiment, who had merely time to
+throw themselves into square, when Milhaud's cuirassiers,
+armed with a terrible long straight sword, came sweeping
+down upon them. A line of impassable bayonets, a
+living <i>chevaux-de-frise</i> of the best blood of Britain, stood
+firm and motionless before the shock: the French
+<i>mitraille</i> played mercilessly on the ranks; but the chasms
+were filled up like magic, and in vain the bold horsemen
+of Gaul galloped round the bristling files. At length
+the word "fire!" was heard within the square, and as the
+bullets at pistol range rattled upon them, the cuirass afforded
+them no defence against the deadly volley. Men
+and horses rolled indiscriminately upon the earth: then
+would come a charge of our dashing squadrons, who,
+riding recklessly upon the foe, were, in their turn, to be
+repulsed by numbers, when fresh attacks would pour
+down upon our unshaken infantry.</p>
+
+<p>"That column yonder is wavering: why does he not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
+bring up his supporting squadrons?" inquired the Duke,
+pointing to a Belgian regiment of light dragoons, who
+were formed in the same brigade with the seventh hussars.</p>
+
+<p>"He refuses to oppose his light cavalry to cuirassiers,
+my lord," said an aid-de-camp, who had just returned
+from the division in question.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him to march his men off the ground," said the
+Duke, with a quiet and impassive tone.</p>
+
+<p>In less than ten minutes the regiment was seen to defile
+from the mass, and take the road to Brussels, to increase
+the panic of that city, by circulating and strengthening
+the report, that the English were beaten,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and
+Napoleon in full march upon the capital.</p>
+
+<p>"What's Ney's force? can you guess, Sir?" said Lord
+Wellington turning to me.</p>
+
+<p>"About twelve thousand men, my lord."</p>
+
+<p>"Are the Guard among them?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Sir; the Guard are in reserve above La Belle
+Alliance."</p>
+
+<p>"In what part of the field is Buonaparte?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nearly opposite to where we stand."</p>
+
+<p>"I told you, gentlemen, Hougoumont never was the
+great attack. The battle must be decided here," pointing,
+as he spoke, to the plain beneath us, where still Ney
+poured on his devoted columns, where yet the French
+cavalry rode down upon our firm squares.</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke an aid-de-camp rode up from the valley.</p>
+
+<p>"The ninety-second requires support, my lord: they
+cannot maintain their positions half an hour longer,
+without it."</p>
+
+<p>"Have they given way, Sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No<ins class="translit" title="em dash em dash"><span style="letter-spacing: -2px; white-space: nowrap;">&#8212;&#8212;</span></ins>"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>
+"Well, then, they must stand where they are. I hear
+cannon towards the left; yonder, near Frischermont."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the light cavalry swept past the base
+of the hill on which we stood, hotly followed by the
+French heavy cuirassier brigade. Three of our guns
+were taken; and the cheering of the French infantry, as
+they advanced to the charge, presaged their hope of
+victory.</p>
+
+<p>"Do it, then," said the Duke, in reply to some whispered
+question of Lord Uxbridge; and shortly after the heavy
+trot of advancing squadrons was heard behind.</p>
+
+<p>They were the Life Guards and the Blues, who, with
+the first Dragoon Guards and the Enniskilleners, were
+formed into close column.</p>
+
+<p>"I know the ground, my Lord," said I to Lord Uxbridge.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, Sir, come along," said he, as he threw
+his hussar jacket loosely behind him, to give freedom
+to his sword-arm.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Forward, my men, forward; but
+steady, hold your horses in hand; threes about, and together
+charge."</p>
+
+<p>"Charge!" he shouted; while, as the word flew from
+squadron to squadron, each horseman bent upon his
+saddle, and that mighty mass, as though instinct with but
+one spirit, dashed like a thunder-bolt upon the column
+beneath them. The French, blown and exhausted, inferior
+beside in weight both of man and horse, offered
+but a short resistance. As the tall corn bends beneath
+the sweeping hurricane, wave succeeding wave, so did the
+steel-clad squadrons of France fall before the nervous
+arm of Britain's cavalry. Onward they went, carrying
+death and ruin before them, and never stayed their course,
+until the guns were recaptured, and the cuirassiers, re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>pulsed,
+disordered, and broken, had retired beneath the
+protection of their artillery.</p>
+
+<p>There was, as a brilliant and eloquent writer on the
+subject mentions, a terrible sameness in the whole of this
+battle. Incessant charges of cavalry upon the squares
+of our infantry, whose sole man<ins class="translit" title="oe ligature">&#339;</ins>uvre consisted in either
+deploying into line to resist the attack of infantry, or
+falling back into square when the cavalry advanced<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>performing
+those two evolutions under the devastating fire of
+artillery, before the unflinching heroism of that veteran
+infantry whose glories had been reaped upon the blood-stained
+fields of Austerlitz, Marengo, and Wagram<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>or
+opposing an unbroken front to the whirlwind swoop
+of infuriated cavalry;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>such were the enduring and devoted
+services demanded from the English troops, and
+such they failed not to render. Once or twice had temper
+nearly failed them, and the cry ran through the ranks,
+"Are we never to move forward?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Only let us at them!"
+But the word was not yet spoken which was to undam
+the pent-up torrent, and bear down with unrelenting
+vengeance upon the now exulting columns of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>It was six o'clock: the battle had continued with unchanged
+fortune for three hours. The French, masters
+of La Haye Sainte, could never advance further into
+our position. They had gained the orchard of Hougoumont,
+but the ch<ins class="translit" title="a circumflex">&#226;</ins>teau was still held by the British Guards,
+although its blazing roof and crumbling walls made its
+occupation rather the desperate stand of unflinching
+valor than the maintenance of an important position.
+The smoke which hung upon the field rolled in slow
+and heavy masses back upon the French lines, and gradually
+discovered to our view the entire of the army. We
+quickly perceived that a change was taking place in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>
+their position. The troops which on their left stretched
+far beyond Hougoumont, were now moved nearer to the
+centre. The attack upon the ch<ins class="translit" title="a circumflex">&#226;</ins>teau seemed less vigorously
+supported, while the oblique direction of their right
+wing, which, pivoting upon Planchenoit, opposed a face
+to the Prussians,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>all denoted a change in their order of
+battle. It was now the hour when Napoleon was at last
+convinced that nothing but the carnage he could no longer
+support could destroy the unyielding ranks of British infantry;
+that although Hougoumont had been partially,
+La Haye Sainte, completely, won; that although upon
+the right the farm-houses Papelotte and La Haye were
+nearly surrounded by his troops, which with any other
+army must prove the forerunner of defeat: yet still the
+victory was beyond his grasp. The bold stratagems,
+whose success the experience of a life had proved, were
+here to be found powerless. The decisive man<ins class="translit" title="oe ligature">&#339;</ins>uvre of
+carrying one important point of the enemy's lines, of
+turning him upon the flank, or piercing him through the
+centre, were here found impracticable. He might launch
+his avalanche of grape-shot, he might pour down his
+crashing columns of cavalry, he might send forth the iron
+storm of his brave infantry; but, though death in every
+shape heralded their approach, still were others found to
+fill the fallen ranks, and feed with their heart's blood the
+unslaked thirst for slaughter. Well might the gallant
+leader of this gallant host, as he watched the reckless
+onslaught of the untiring enemy, and looked upon the
+unflinching few, who, bearing the proud badge of Britain,
+alone sustained the fight, well might he exclaim, "Night,
+or Bl<ins class="translit" title="u diaresis">&#252;</ins>cher!"</p>
+
+<p>It was now seven o'clock, when a dark mass was seen
+to form upon the heights above the French centre, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>
+divide into three gigantic columns, of which the right
+occupied the Brussels road. These were the reserves,
+consisting of the Old and Young Guards, and amounting
+to twelve thousand<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the <ins class="translit" title="e acute"><i>&#233;</i></ins><i>lite</i> of the French army<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>reserved
+by the Emperor for a great <i>coup-de-main</i>. These
+veterans of a hundred battles had been stationed, from the
+beginning of the day, inactive spectators of the fight;
+their hour was now come, and, with a shout of "<i>Vive
+l'Empereur!</i>" which rose triumphantly over the din and
+crash of battle, they began their march. Meanwhile,
+aids-de-camp galloped along the lines, announcing the
+arrival of Grouchy, to reanimate the drooping spirits of
+the men; for, at last, a doubt of victory was breaking
+upon the minds of those who never before, in the most
+adverse hour of fortune, deemed <i>his</i> star could set that
+led them on to glory.</p>
+
+<p>"They are coming: the attack will be made on the
+centre, my lord," said Lord Fitzroy Somerset, as he directed
+his glass upon the column. Scarcely had he spoke
+when the telescope fell from his hand, as his arm, shattered
+by a French bullet, fell motionless to his side.</p>
+
+<p>"I see it," was the cool reply of the Duke, as he ordered
+the Guards to deploy into line, and lie down behind
+the ridge, which now the French artillery had found the
+range of, and were laboring at with their guns. In front
+of them the fifty-second, seventy-first, and ninety-fifth
+were formed; the artillery, stationed above and partly
+upon the road, loaded with grape, and waited but the
+word to open.</p>
+
+<p>It was an awful, a dreadful moment: the Prussian cannon
+thundered on our left; but so desperate was the
+French resistance, they made but little progress: the
+dark columns of the Guard had now commenced the as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>cent,
+and the artillery ceased their fire as the bayonets of
+the grenadiers showed themselves upon the slope. Then
+began that tremendous cheer from right to left of our
+line which those who heard never can forget. It was the
+impatient, long-restrained burst of unslaked vengeance.
+With the instinct which valor teaches, they knew the
+hour of trial was come; and that wild cry flew from rank
+to rank, echoing from the blood-stained walls of Hougoumont
+to the far-off valley of La Papelotte. "They
+come! they come!" was the cry; and the shout of "<i>Vive
+l'Empereur!</i>" mingled with the outburst of the British
+line.</p>
+
+<p>Under an overwhelming shower of grape, to which
+succeeded a charge of cavalry of the Imperial Guard,
+the head of Ney's column fired its volley and advanced
+with the bayonet. The British artillery now opened at
+half range, and although the plunging fire scathed and
+devastated the dark ranks of the Guards, on they came,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Ney
+himself, on foot, at their head. Twice the leading
+division of that gallant column turned completely round,
+as the withering fire wasted and consumed them; but
+they were resolved to win.</p>
+
+<p>Already they had gained the crest of the hill, and the
+first line of the British were falling back before them.
+The artillery closes up; the flanking fire from the guns
+upon the road opens upon them; the head of their
+column breaks like a shell; the Duke seizes the moment,
+and advances on foot towards the ridge.</p>
+
+<p>"Up, Guards, and at them!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>The hour of triumph and vengeance had arrived. In
+a moment the Guards were on their feet; one volley was
+poured in; the bayonets were brought to the charge;
+they closed upon the enemy: then was seen the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>
+dreadful struggle that the history of all war can present.
+Furious with long restrained passion, the guards rushed
+upon the leading divisions; the seventy-first, and ninety-fifth,
+and twenty-sixth overlapped them on the flanks.
+Their generals fell thickly on every side; Michel, Jamier,
+and Mallet are killed: Friant lies wounded upon the
+ground; Ney, his dress pierced and ragged with balls,
+shouts still to advance; but the leading files waver;
+they fall back; the supporting divisions thicken; confusion,
+panic succeeds; the British press down; the cavalry
+come galloping up to their assistance; and, at last, pell-mell,
+overwhelmed and beaten, the French fall back upon
+the Old Guard. This was the decisive moment of the
+day;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the Duke closed his glass, as he said:</p>
+
+<p>"The field is won. Order the whole line to advance."</p>
+
+<p>On they came, four deep, and poured like a torrent
+from the height.</p>
+
+<p>"Let the Life Guards charge them," said the Duke;
+but every aid-de-camp on his staff was wounded, and I
+myself brought the order to Lord Uxbridge.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Uxbridge had already anticipated his orders, and
+bore down with four regiments of heavy cavalry upon
+the French centre. The Prussian artillery thundered
+upon their flank, and at their rear. The British bayonet
+was in their front; while a panic fear spread through their
+ranks, and the cry "<i>Sauve qui peut!</i>" resounded on all
+sides. In vain Ney, the bravest of the brave; in vain
+Soult, Bertrand, Gourgaud, and Labedoy<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>re, burst from
+the broken disorganized mass, and called on them to
+stand fast. A battalion of the Old Guard, with Cambronne
+at their head, alone obeyed the summons: forming
+into square, they stood between the pursuers and
+their prey, offering themselves a sacrifice to the tarnish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>ed
+honor of their arms: to the order to surrender, they
+answered with a cry of defiance; and, as our cavalry,
+flushed and elated with victory, rode round their bristling
+ranks, no quailing look, no craven spirit was there. The
+Emperor himself endeavored to repair the disaster; he
+rode with lightening speed hither and thither, commanding,
+ordering, nay imploring too; but already the night
+was falling, the confusion became each moment more
+inextricable, and the effort was a fruitless one. A regiment
+of the Guards, and two batteries were in reserve
+behind Planchenoit; he threw them rapidly into position;
+but the overwhelming impulse of flight drove the mass
+upon them, and they were carried away upon the torrent
+of the beaten army. No sooner did the Emperor see
+this his last hope desert him, than he dismounted from
+his horse, and, drawing his sword, threw himself into a
+square, which the first regiment of chasseurs of the Old
+Guard had formed with a remnant of the battalion; Jerome
+followed him, as he called out:</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, brother: here should perish all who
+bear the name of Buonaparte."</p>
+
+<p>The same moment the Prussian light artillery rend the
+ranks asunder, and the cavalry charge down upon the
+scattered fragments. A few of his staff, who never left
+him, place the Emperor upon a horse,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and fly.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 390px;">
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;"><i>Wellington,</i></span><br />
+<i>Thy great work is but begun!</i><br />
+<i>With quick seed his end is rife</i><br />
+<i>Whose long tale of conquering strife</i><br />
+<i>Shows no triumph like his life</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;"><i>Lost and won.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 1em;">Dante Gabriel Rossetti</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1828-1882.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>On Wellington's Funeral, Nov. 18th, 1852.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lx" id="lx"></a><a href="#anchor_lx">LX</a>. THE DIVER.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1805-1873.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>Translated from the German of Schiller</i>.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 550px;">
+<p>"<span class="smcap">O where</span> is the knight or the squire so bold<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As to dive to the howling Charybdis below?</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And o'er it already the dark waters flow;</span><br />
+Whoever to me may the goblet bring,<br />
+Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke, and the cup from the terrible steep,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That, rugged and hoary, hung over the verge</span><br />
+Of the endless and measureless world of the deep,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Swirl'd into the maelstrom that madden'd the surge.</span><br />
+"And where is the diver so stout to go<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I ask ye again<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>to the deep below?"</p>
+
+<p>And the knights and the squires that gather'd around,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Stood silent</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and fix'd on the ocean their eyes;<br />
+They look'd on the dismal and savage profound,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the peril chill'd back every thought of the prize.</span><br />
+And thrice spoke the monarch: "The cup to win,<br />
+Is there never a wight who will venture in?"</p>
+
+<p>And all as before heard in silence the king,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle,</span><br />
+'Mid the tremulous squires stepp'd out from the ring,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle;</span><br />
+And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder,<br />
+On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder.</p>
+
+<p>As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">One glance on the gulf of that merciless main,</span><br />
+Lo! the wave that for ever devours the wave,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Casts roaringly up the Charybdis again:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>
+And, as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,<br />
+Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom.</p>
+
+<p>And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As when fire is with water commix'd and contending,</span><br />
+And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending;</span><br />
+And it never <i>will</i> rest, nor from travail be free,<br />
+Like a sea that is laboring the birth of a sea.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, at length, comes a lull o'er the mighty commotion,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And dark through the whiteness, and still through the swell,</span><br />
+The whirlpool cleaves downward and downward in ocean<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A yawning abyss, like the pathway to hell;</span><br />
+The stiller and darker the farther it goes,<br />
+Suck'd into that smoothness the breakers repose.</p>
+
+<p>The youth gave his trust to his Maker! Before<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That path through the riven abyss closed again,</span><br />
+Hark! a shriek from the gazers that circle the shore,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And, behold! he is whirl'd in the grasp of the main!</span><br />
+And o'er him the breakers mysteriously roll'd,<br />
+And the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold.</p>
+
+<p>All was still on the height, save the murmur that went<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From the grave of the deep, sounding hollow and fell,</span><br />
+Or save when the tremulous, sighing lament<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thrill'd from lip unto lip, "Gallant youth, fare thee well!"</span><br />
+More hollow and more wails the deep on the ear,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+More dread and more dread grows suspense in its fear.</p>
+
+<p><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>If thou shouldst in those waters thy diadem fling,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And cry, "Who may find it shall win it and wear";</span><br />
+God wot, though the prize were the crown of a king,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A crown at such hazard were valued too dear.</span><br />
+For never shall lips of the living reveal<br />
+What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>
+Oh, many a bark, to that breast grappled fast,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave;</span><br />
+Again, crash'd together the keel and the mast,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To be seen toss'd aloft in the glee of the wave!</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer,<br />
+Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer.</p>
+
+<p>And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As when fire is with water commix'd and contending;</span><br />
+And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending,</span><br />
+And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,<br />
+Rushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom.</p>
+
+<p>And, lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Like the wing of the cygnet</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>what gleams on the sea?<br />
+Lo! an arm and a neck glancing up from the tomb!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Steering stalwart and shoreward: O joy, it is he!</span><br />
+The left hand is lifted in triumph; behold,<br />
+It waves as a trophy the goblet of gold!</p>
+
+<p>And he breath<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d deep, and he breath<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d long,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And he greeted the heavenly light of the day.</span><br />
+They gaze on each other,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they shout as they throng,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"He lives</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>lo, the ocean has render'd its prey!<br />
+And safe from the whirlpool, and free from the grave,<br />
+Comes back to the daylight the soul of the brave!"</p>
+
+<p>And he comes, with the crowd in their clamor and glee;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the goblet his daring has won from the water</span><br />
+He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the king from her maidens has beckon'd his daughter.</span><br />
+She pours to the boy the bright wine which they bring,<br />
+And thus spoke the diver; "Long life to the King!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>
+"Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The air and the sky that to mortals are given!</span><br />
+May the horror below nevermore find a voice,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven!</span><br />
+Nevermore,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>nevermore may he lift from the sight<br />
+The veil which is woven with terror and night!</p>
+
+<p>"Quick brightening like lightning the ocean rush'd o'er me,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Wild floating, borne down fathom-deep from the day;</span><br />
+Till a torrent rush'd out on the torrents that bore me,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And doubled the tempest that whirl'd me away.</span><br />
+Vain, vain was my struggle,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the circle had won me,<br />
+Round and round in its dance the mad element spun me.</p>
+
+<p>"From the deep then I call'd upon God, and He heard me;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In the dread of my need, He vouchsafed to mine eye</span><br />
+A rock jutting out from the grave that interr'd me;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I sprung there, I clung there,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and death pass'd me by.<br />
+And, lo! where the goblet gleam'd through the abyss,<br />
+By a coral reef saved from the far Fathomless.</p>
+
+<p>"Below, at the foot of that precipice drear,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Spread the gloomy and purple and pathless Obscure!</span><br />
+A silence of horror that slept on the ear,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That the eye more appall'd might the horror endure;</span><br />
+Salamander, snake, dragon<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>vast reptiles that dwell<br />
+In the deep<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>coil'd about the grim jaws of their hell.</p>
+
+<p>"Dark crawl'd, glided dark, the unspeakable swarms,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Clump'd together in masses, misshapen and vast;</span><br />
+Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Here the dark-moving bulk of the hammer-fish pass'd;</span><br />
+And, with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion,<br />
+Went the terrible shark,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the hyena of ocean.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>
+"There I hung, and the awe gather'd icily o'er me,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">So far from the earth, where man's help there was none!</span><br />
+The one human thing, with the goblins before me<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Alone</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in a loneness so ghastly<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Alone</span>!<br />
+Deep under the reach of the sweet living breath,<br />
+And begirt with the broods of the desert of Death.</p>
+
+<p>"Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now<br />
+<span class="smcap">It</span> saw<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a dread hundred-limb'd creature<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>its prey!<br />
+And darted, devouring; I sprang from the bough<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Of the coral, and swept on the horrible way;</span><br />
+And the whirl of the mighty wave seized me once more,<br />
+It seized me to save me, and dash to the shore."</p>
+
+<p>On the youth gazed the monarch, and marvell'd: quoth he,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Bold diver, the goblet I promised is thine;</span><br />
+And this ring I will give, a fresh guerdon to thee<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again,<br />
+To say what lies hid in the <i>innermost</i> main."</p>
+
+<p>Then out spake the daughter in tender emotion:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Ah! father, my father, what more can there rest?</span><br />
+Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He has serv'd thee as none would, thyself hast confest.</span><br />
+If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire,<br />
+Let thy knights put to shame the exploit of the squire!"</p>
+
+<p>The king seized the goblet, he swung it on high,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide;</span><br />
+"But bring back that goblet again to my eye,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And I'll hold thee the dearest that rides by my side;</span><br />
+And thine arms shall embrace as thy bride, I decree,<br />
+The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>
+And Heaven, as he listen'd, spoke out from the space,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the hope that makes heroes shot flame from his eyes;</span><br />
+He gazed on the blush in that beautiful face<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">It pales</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>at the feet of her father she lies!<br />
+How priceless the guerdon!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a moment<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a breath<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+And headlong he plunges to life and to death!</p>
+
+<p>They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along!</span><br />
+Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng,</span><br />
+Roaring up to the cliff,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>roaring back as before,<br />
+But no wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore!</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxi" id="lxi"></a><a href="#anchor_lxi">LXI</a>. THE PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Cardinal Newman</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1801-</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Callista</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Juba's</span> finger was directed to a spot where, amid the
+thick foliage, the gleam of a pool or of a marsh was visible.
+The various waters round about, issuing from the
+gravel, or drained from the nightly damps, had run into
+a hollow, filled with the decaying vegetation of former
+years. Its banks were bordered with a deep, broad layer
+of mud, a transition substance between the rich vegetable
+matter which it once had been, and the multitudinous
+world of insect life which it was becoming. A cloud or
+mist at this time was hanging over it, high in air. A harsh
+and shrill sound, a whizzing or a chirping, proceeded from
+that cloud to the ear of the attentive listener. What
+these indications portended was plain....</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>The plague of locusts, one of the most awful visitations
+to which the countries included in the Roman empire
+were exposed, extended from the Atlantic to Ethiopia,
+from Arabia to India, and from the Nile and Red Sea
+to Greece and the north of Asia Minor. Instances are
+recorded in history of clouds of the devastating insect
+crossing the Black Sea to Poland, and the Mediterranean
+to Lombardy. It is as numerous in its species as it is
+wide in its range of territory. Brood follows brood, with
+a sort of family likeness, yet with distinct attributes.
+It wakens into existence and activity as early as the
+month of March; but instances are not wanting, as in
+our present history, of its appearance as late as June.
+Even one flight comprises myriads upon myriads passing
+imagination, to which the drops of rain or the sands
+of the sea are the only fit comparison; and hence it is
+almost a proverbial mode of expression in the East, by
+way of describing a vast invading army, to liken it to the
+locusts. So dense are they, when upon the wing, that it
+is no exaggeration to say that they hide the sun, from
+which circumstance indeed their name in Arabic is derived.
+And so ubiquitous are they when they have
+alighted on the earth, that they simply cover or clothe
+its surface.</p>
+
+<p>This last characteristic is stated in the sacred account
+of the plagues of Egypt, where their faculty of devastation
+is also mentioned. The corrupting fly and the
+bruising and prostrating hail preceded them in that series
+of visitations, but <i>they</i> came to do the work of ruin more
+thoroughly. For not only the crops and fruits, but the
+foliage of the forest itself, nay, the small twigs and the
+bark of the trees are the victims of their curious and
+energetic rapacity. They have been known even to gnaw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>
+the door-posts of the houses. Nor do they execute their
+task in so slovenly a way, that, as they have succeeded
+other plagues, so they may have successors themselves.
+They take pains to spoil what they leave. Like the
+Harpies, they smear every thing that they touch with a
+miserable slime, which has the effect of a virus in corroding,
+or as some say, in scorching and burning. And then,
+perhaps, as if all this were little, when they can do nothing
+else, they die; as if out of sheer malevolence to man, for
+the poisonous elements of their nature are then let loose
+and dispersed abroad, and create a pestilence; and they
+manage to destroy many more by their death than in
+their life.</p>
+
+<p>Such are the locusts. And now they are rushing upon
+a considerable tract of that beautiful region of which we
+have spoken with such admiration. The swarm to which
+Juba pointed grew and grew till it became a compact
+body, as much as a furlong square; yet it was but the
+vanguard of a series of similar hosts, formed one after
+another out of the hot mould or sand, rising into the air
+like clouds, enlarging into a dusky canopy, and then discharged
+against the fruitful plain. At length the huge
+innumerous mass was put into motion, and began its
+career, darkening the face of day. As became an instrument
+of divine power, it seemed to have no volition of
+its own; it was set off, it drifted, with the wind, and thus
+made northwards, straight for Sicca. Thus they advanced,
+host after host, for a time wafted on the air, and
+gradually declining to the earth, while fresh broods were
+carried over the first, and neared the earth, after a longer
+flight, in their turn. For twelve miles did they extend
+from front to rear, and their whizzing and hissing could
+be heard for six miles on every side of them. The bright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>
+sun, though hidden by them, illumined their bodies, and
+was reflected from their quivering wings; and as they
+heavily fell earthward, they seemed like the innumerable
+flakes of a yellow-colored snow. And like snow did
+they descend, a living carpet, or rather pall, upon fields,
+crops, gardens, copses, groves, orchards, vineyards, olive
+woods, orangeries, palm plantations, and the deep forests,
+sparing nothing within their reach, and where there was
+nothing to devour, lying helpless in drifts, or crawling
+forward obstinately, as they best might, with the hope
+of prey. They could spare their hundred thousand soldiers
+twice or thrice over, and not miss them; their
+masses filled the bottoms of the ravines and hollow ways,
+impeding the traveller as he rode forward on his journey
+and trampled by thousands under his horse-hoofs. In
+vain was all this overthrow and waste by the roadside,
+in vain their loss in river, pool, and watercourse. The
+poor peasants hastily dug pits and trenches as their
+enemy came on; in vain they filled them from the wells
+or with lighted stubble. Heavily and thickly did the
+locusts fall; they were lavish of their lives; they choked
+the flame and the water, which destroyed them the while,
+and the vast living hostile armament still moved on.</p>
+
+<p>They moved right on like soldiers in their ranks, stopping
+at nothing, and straggling for nothing; they carried
+a broad furrow or wheal all across the country, black and
+loathsome, while it was as green and smiling on each side
+of them and in front, as it had been before they came.
+Before them, in the language of prophets, was a paradise,
+and behind them a desert. They are daunted by nothing
+they surmount walls and hedges, and enter enclosed gardens
+or inhabited houses. A rare and experimental
+vineyard has been planted in a sheltered grove. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>
+high winds of Africa will not commonly allow the light
+trellice or the slim pole; but here the lofty poplar of
+Campania has been possible, on which the vine plant
+mounts so many yards into the air, that the poor grape-gatherers
+bargain for a funeral pile and a tomb as one of
+the conditions of their engagement. The locusts have
+done what the winds and lightning could not do, and the
+whole promise of the vintage, leaves and all, is gone, and
+the slender stems are left bare. There is another yard,
+less uncommon, but still tended with more than common
+care; each plant is kept within due bounds by a circular
+trench round it, and by upright canes on which it is to
+trail; in an hour the solicitude and long toil of the vine-dresser
+are lost, and his pride humbled. There is a
+smiling farm; another sort of vine, of remarkable character,
+is found against the farmhouse. This vine springs
+from one root, and has clothed and matted with its many
+branches the four walls. The whole of it is covered thick
+with long clusters, which another month will ripen. On
+every grape and leaf there is a locust. Into the dry
+caves and pits, carefully strewed with straw, the harvest-men
+have (safely, as they thought just now) been lodging
+the far-famed African wheat. One grain or root shoots
+up into ten, twenty, fifty, eighty, nay, three or four hundred
+stalks: sometimes the stalks have two ears apiece,
+and these shoot into a number of lesser ones. These
+stores are intended for the Roman populace, but the
+locusts have been beforehand with them. The small
+patches of ground belonging to the poor peasants up and
+down the country, for raising the turnips, garlic, barley,
+water-melons, on which they live, are the prey of these
+glutton invaders as much as the choicest vines and olives.
+Nor have they any reverence for the villa of the civic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>
+decurion or the Roman official. The neatly arranged
+kitchen garden, with its cherries, plums, peaches, and
+apricots, is a waste; as the slaves sit round, in the kitchen
+in the first court, at their coarse evening meal, the
+room is filled with the invading force, and news comes
+to them that the enemy has fallen upon the apples and
+pears in the basement, and is at the same time plundering
+and sacking the preserves of quince and pomegranate,
+and revelling in the jars of precious oil of Cyprus and
+Mendes in the store-rooms.</p>
+
+<p>They come up to the walls of Sicca, and are flung
+against them into the ditch. Not a moment's hesitation
+or delay; they recover their footing, they climb up the
+wood or stucco, they surmount the parapet, or they have
+entered in at the windows, filling the apartments, and the
+most private and luxurious chambers, not one or two,
+like stragglers at forage or rioters after a victory, but in
+order of battle, and with the array of an army. Choice
+plants or flowers about the <i>impluvia</i> and <i>xysti</i>, for ornament
+or refreshment, myrtles, oranges, pomegranates,
+the rose and the carnation, have disappeared. They dim
+the bright marbles of the walls and the gilding of the
+ceilings. They enter the triclinium in the midst of the
+banquet; they crawl over the viands and spoil what they
+do not devour. Unrelaxed by success and by enjoyment,
+onward they go; a secret mysterious instinct keeps them
+together, as if they had a king over them. They move
+along the floor in so strange an order that they seem to
+be a tessellated pavement themselves, and to be the artificial
+embellishment of the place; so true are their lines,
+and so perfect is the pattern they describe. Onward
+they go, to the market, to the temple sacrifices, to the
+bakers' stores, to the cookshops, to the confectioners, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>
+the druggists; nothing comes amiss to them; wherever
+man has aught to eat or drink, there are they, reckless of
+death, strong of appetite, certain of conquest....</p>
+
+<p>Another and a still worse calamity. The invaders, as
+we have already hinted, could be more terrible still in
+their overthrow than in their ravages. The inhabitants
+of the country had attempted, where they could, to destroy
+them by fire and water. It would seem as if the
+malignant animals had resolved that the sufferers should
+have the benefit of this policy to the full; for they had
+not got more than twenty miles beyond Sicca when they
+suddenly sickened and died. When they thus had done
+all the mischief they could by their living, when they thus
+had made their foul maws the grave of every living thing,
+next they died themselves, and made the desolated land
+their own grave. They took from it its hundred forms
+and varieties of beautiful life, and left it their own fetid
+and poisonous carcases in payment. It was a sudden
+catastrophe; they seemed making for the Mediterranean,
+as if, like other great conquerors, they had other worlds
+to subdue beyond it; but, whether they were overgorged,
+or struck by some atmospheric change, or that their time
+was come and they paid the debt of nature, so it was
+that suddenly they fell, and their glory came to nought,
+and all was vanity to them as to others, and "their stench
+rose up, and their corruption rose up, because they had
+done proudly."</p>
+
+<p>The hideous swarms lay dead in the moist steaming
+underwoods, in the green swamps, in the sheltered valleys,
+in the ditches and furrows of the fields, amid the
+monuments of their own prowess, the ruined crops and
+the dishonored vineyards. A poisonous element, issuing
+from their remains, mingled with the atmosphere, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>
+corrupted it. The dismayed peasant found that a plague
+had begun; a new visitation, not confined to the territory
+which the enemy had made its own, but extending
+far and wide, as the atmosphere extends, in all directions.
+Their daily toil, no longer claimed by the fruits
+of the earth, which have ceased to exist, is now devoted
+to the object of ridding themselves of the deadly legacy
+which they have received in their stead. In vain; it is
+their last toil; they are digging pits, they are raising
+piles, for their own corpses, as well as for the bodies of
+their enemies. Invader and victim lie in the same grave,
+burn in the same heap; they sicken while they work, and
+the pestilence spreads.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxii" id="lxii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxii">LXII</a>. THE CANE-BOTTOM'D CHAIR.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">William Makepeace Thackeray</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1811-1863.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 540px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> tatter'd old slippers that toast at the bars,<br />
+And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,<br />
+Away from the world and its toils and its cares,<br />
+I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.</p>
+
+<p>To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure,<br />
+But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure;<br />
+And the view I behold on a sunshiny day<br />
+Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way.</p>
+
+<p>This snug little chamber is cramm'd in all nooks<br />
+With worthless old knicknacks and silly old books,<br />
+And foolish old odds and foolish old ends,<br />
+Crack'd bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>
+Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china, (all crack'd,)<br />
+Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-back'd;<br />
+A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see;<br />
+What matter? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me.</p>
+
+<p>No better divan need the Sultan require,<br />
+Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire;<br />
+And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get<br />
+From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet.</p>
+
+<p>That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp;<br />
+By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp;<br />
+A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn:<br />
+'Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon.</p>
+
+<p>Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes,<br />
+Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times;<br />
+As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie<br />
+This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me.</p>
+
+<p>But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest,<br />
+There's one that I love and I cherish the best;<br />
+For the finest of couches that's padded with hair<br />
+I never would change thee, my cane-bottom'd chair.</p>
+
+<p>'Tis a bandy-legg'd, high-shoulder'd, worm-eaten seat,<br />
+With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet;<br />
+But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there,<br />
+I bless thee, and love thee, old cane-bottom'd chair.</p>
+
+<p>If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms,<br />
+A thrill must have pass'd through your wither'd old arms!<br />
+I look'd, and I long'd, and I wish'd in despair;<br />
+I wish'd myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>
+It was but a moment she sat in this place,<br />
+She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face!<br />
+A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair,<br />
+And she sat there, and bloom'd in my cane-bottom'd chair.</p>
+
+<p>And so I have valued my chair ever since,<br />
+Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince;<br />
+Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare,<br />
+The queen of my heart and my cane-bottom'd chair.</p>
+
+<p>When the candles burn low, and the company's gone,<br />
+In the silence of night as I sit here alone<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+My Fanny I see in my cane-bottom'd chair.</p>
+
+<p>She comes from the past and revisits my room;<br />
+She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom;<br />
+So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair,<br />
+And yonder she sits in my cane-bottom'd chair.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxiii" id="lxiii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxiii">LXIII</a>. THE RECONCILIATION.<a name="FNanchor_N_51" id="FNanchor_N_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_N_51" class="fnanchor">[N]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thackeray</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was scarce a score of persons in the Cathedral
+beside the Dean and some of his clergy, and the choristers,
+young and old, that performed the beautiful evening
+prayer. But Mr. Tusher was one of the officiants, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>
+read from the eagle in an authoritative voice, and a great
+black periwig; and in the stalls, still in her black widow's
+hood, sat Esmond's dear mistress, her son by her side,
+very much grown, and indeed a noble-looking youth, with
+his mother's eyes, and his father's curling brown hair,
+that fell over his <i>point de Venise</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a pretty picture such
+as Vandyke might have painted. Mons. Rigaud's portrait
+of my Lord Viscount, done at Paris afterwards, gives
+but a French version of his manly, frank English face.
+When he looked up there were two sapphire beams out
+of his eyes such as no painter's palette has the color to
+match, I think. On this day there was not much chance
+of seeing that particular beauty of my young lord's countenance;
+for the truth is, he kept his eyes shut for the
+most part, and, the anthem being rather long, was asleep.</p>
+
+<p>But the music ceasing, my lord woke up, looking about
+him, and his eyes lighting on Mr. Esmond, who was sitting
+opposite him, gazing with no small tenderness and
+melancholy upon two persons who had so much of his
+heart for so many years, Lord Castlewood, with a start;
+pulled at his mother's sleeve (her face had scarce been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>
+lifted from her book), and said, "Look, mother!" so loud,
+that Esmond could hear on the other side of the church,
+and the old Dean on his throned stall. Lady Castlewood
+looked for an instant as her son bade her, and held
+up a warning finger to Frank; Esmond felt his whole face
+flush, and his heart throbbing, as that dear lady beheld
+him once more. The rest of the prayers were speedily
+over; Mr. Esmond did not hear them; nor did his mistress,
+very likely, whose hood went more closely over her
+face, and who never lifted her head again until the service
+was over, the blessing given, and Mr. Dean, and his
+procession of ecclesiastics, out of the inner chapel.</p>
+
+<p>Young Castlewood came clambering over the stalls
+before the clergy were fairly gone, and running up to
+Esmond, eagerly embraced him. "My dear, dearest old
+Harry!" he said, "are you come back? Have you been
+to the wars? You'll take me with you when you go
+again? Why didn't you write to us? Come to mother."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Esmond could hardly say more than a "God bless
+you, my boy," for his heart was very full and grateful at
+all this tenderness on the lad's part; and he was as much
+moved at seeing Frank as he was fearful about that other
+interview which was now to take place: for he knew not
+if the widow would reject him as she had done so cruelly
+a year ago.</p>
+
+<p>"It was kind of you to come back to us, Henry," Lady
+Esmond said. "I thought you might come."</p>
+
+<p>"We read of the fleet coming to Portsmouth. Why
+did you not come from Portsmouth?" Frank asked, or
+my Lord Viscount, as he now must be called.</p>
+
+<p>Esmond had thought of that too. He would have
+given one of his eyes so that he might see his dear friends
+again once more; but believing that his mistress had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>
+forbidden him her house, he had obeyed her, and remained
+at a distance.</p>
+
+<p>"You had but to ask, and you knew I would be here,"
+he said.</p>
+
+<p>She gave him her hand, her little fair hand: there was
+only her marriage ring on it. The quarrel was all over.
+The year of grief and estrangement was passed. They
+never had been separated. His mistress had never been
+out of his mind all that time. No, not once. No, not in
+the prison; nor in the camp; nor on shore before the
+enemy; nor at sea under the stars of solemn midnight;
+nor as he watched the glorious rising of the dawn: not
+even at the table, where he sat carousing with friends, or
+at the theatre yonder, where he tried to fancy that other
+eyes were brighter than hers. Brighter eyes there
+might be, and faces more beautiful, but none so dear<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>no
+voice so sweet as that of his beloved mistress, who had
+been sister, mother, goddess to him during his youth<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>goddess
+now no more, for he knew of her weaknesses;
+and by thought, by suffering, and that experience it
+brings, was older now than she; but more fondly cherished
+as woman perhaps than ever she had been adored
+as divinity. What is it? Where lies it? the secret which
+makes one little hand the dearest of all? Who ever can
+unriddle that mystery? Here she was, her son by his
+side, his dear boy. Here she was, weeping and happy.
+She took his hand in both hers; he felt her tears. It
+was a rapture of reconciliation....</p>
+
+<p>"And Harry's coming home to supper. Huzzay!
+huzzay!" cries my lord. "Mother, I shall run home and
+bid Beatrix put her ribbons on. Beatrix is a maid of
+honor, Harry. Such a fine set-up minx!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your heart was never in the Church, Harry," the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>
+widow said, in her sweet low tone, as they walked away
+together. (Now, it seemed they had never been parted,
+and again, as if they had been ages asunder.) "I always
+thought you had no vocation that way; and that 'twas a
+pity to shut you out from the world. You would but
+have pined and chafed at Castlewood: and 'tis better
+you should make a name for yourself. I often said so to
+my dear lord. How he loved you! 'Twas my lord that
+made you stay with us."</p>
+
+<p>"I asked no better than to stay near you always," said
+Mr. Esmond.</p>
+
+<p>"But to go was best, Harry. When the world cannot
+give peace, you will know where to find it; but one of
+your strong imagination and eager desires must try the
+world first before he tires of it. 'Twas not to be thought
+of, or if it once was, it was only by my selfishness, that
+you should remain as chaplain to a country gentleman
+and tutor to a little boy. You are of the blood of the
+Esmonds, kinsman; and that was always wild in youth.
+Look at Francis. He is but fifteen, and I scarce can keep
+him in my nest. His talk is all of war and pleasure, and
+he longs to serve in the next campaign. Perhaps he and
+the young Lord Churchill shall go the next. Lord Marlborough
+has been good to us. You know how kind they
+were in my misfortune. And so was your<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>your father's
+widow. No one knows how good the world is, till grief
+comes to try us. 'Tis through my Lady Marlborough's
+goodness that Beatrix hath her place at Court; and Frank
+is under my Lord Chamberlain. And the dowager lady,
+your father's widow, has promised to provide for you<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>has
+she not?"</p>
+
+<p>Esmond said, "Yes. As far as present favor went,
+Lady Castlewood was very good to him. And should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>
+her mind change," he added gaily, "as ladies' minds will,
+I am strong enough to bear my own burden, and make
+my way somehow. Not by the sword very likely.
+Thousands have a better genius for that than I, but there
+are many ways in which a young man of good parts and
+education can get on in the world; and I am pretty sure,
+one way or other, of promotion!" Indeed, he had found
+patrons already in the army, and amongst persons very
+able to serve him, too; and told his mistress of the flattering
+aspect of fortune. They walked as though they had
+never been parted, slowly, with the grey twilight closing
+round them.</p>
+
+<p>"And now we are drawing near to home," she continued,
+"I knew you would come, Harry, if<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>if it was
+but to forgive me for having spoken unjustly to you
+after that horrid<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>horrid misfortune. I was half frantic
+with grief then when I saw you. And I know now<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they
+have told me. That wretch, whose name I can never
+mention, even has said it: how you tried to avert the
+quarrel, and would have taken it on yourself, my poor
+child: but it was God's will that I should be punished,
+and that my dear lord should fall."</p>
+
+<p>"He gave me his blessing on his death-bed," Esmond
+said. "Thank God for that legacy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Amen, amen! dear Henry," said the lady, pressing
+his arm. "I knew it. Mr. Atterbury, of St. Bride's, who
+was called to him, told me so. And I thanked God, too,
+and in my prayers ever since remembered it."</p>
+
+<p>"You had spared me many a bitter night, had you told
+me sooner," Mr. Esmond said.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it, I know it," she answered, in a tone of such
+sweet humility, as made Esmond repent that he should
+ever have dared to reproach her. "I know how wicked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>
+my heart has been; and I have suffered too, my dear.
+But I knew you would come back<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I own that. And
+to-day, Henry, in the anthem, when they sang it, 'When
+the Lord turned the captivity of Zion, we were like
+them that dream,' I thought yes, like them that dream<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>them
+that dream. And then it went, 'They that sow
+in tears shall reap in joy; and he that goeth forth and
+weepeth, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing
+his sheaves with him;' I looked up from the book
+and saw you. I was not surprised when I saw you. I
+knew you would come, my dear, and saw the gold sunshine
+round your head."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled an almost wild smile as she looked up at
+him. The moon was up by this time, glittering keen in
+the frosty sky. He could see, for the first time now
+clearly, her sweet careworn face.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what day it is?" she continued. "It
+is the 29th day of December<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>it is your birthday! But
+last year we did not drink it<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>no, no. My lord was cold,
+and my Harry was likely to die: and my brain was in a
+fever; and we had no wine. But now<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>now you are
+come again, bringing your sheaves with you, my dear."
+She burst into a wild flood of weeping as she spoke; she
+laughed and sobbed on the young man's heart, crying out
+wildly, "bringing your sheaves with you<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>your sheaves
+with you!"</p>
+
+<p>As he had sometimes felt, gazing up from the deck at
+midnight into the boundless starlit depths overhead, in a
+rapture of devout wonder at that endless brightness and
+beauty<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in some such a way now, the depth of this pure
+devotion quite smote upon him, and filled his heart with
+thanksgiving. Gracious God, who was he, weak and
+friendless creature, that such a love should be poured out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>
+upon him? Not in vain<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>not in vain has he lived<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>hard
+and thankless should he be to think so<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that has such a
+treasure given him. What is ambition compared to that,
+but selfish vanity? To be rich, to be famous? What
+do these profit a year hence, when other names sound
+louder than yours, when you lie hidden away under the
+ground, along with idle titles engraven on your coffin?
+But only true love lives after you<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>follows your memory
+with secret blessing<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>or precedes you, and intercedes for
+you. <i>Non omnis moriar</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>if dying, I yet live in a tender
+heart or two; nor am lost and hopeless living, if a sainted
+departed soul still loves and prays for me.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_N_51" id="Footnote_N_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_N_51"><span class="label">[N]</span></a> <i>From "The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., a Colonel in the Service of
+Her Majesty Queen Anne. Written by himself."</i></p>
+
+<p class="footnote">The late Lord Castlewood had been killed in a duel, and young Esmond,
+who had lived in his house as a dependant (reputed to have been illegitimately
+related to a former Viscount of Castlewood), devotedly attending him at his
+death-bed, received from the dying man confession and proof that he, the supposed
+obscure orphan, was the true inheritor, and in justice ought to have been
+the possessor, of the Castlewood titles and estates. But Esmond, for the love he
+had borne his patron, and from devotion to Lady Castlewood, who had much
+befriended him, immediately destroyed the proofs which were given him of his
+honorable parentage, and ever afterwards kept his claim a secret. After the
+duel, while Esmond was in prison, Lady Castlewood visited him, and in the
+wildness of her grief for her murdered husband, reproached her loyal kinsman
+for not having saved her lord's life, or avenged his death. In the estrangement
+which these reproaches occasioned, Esmond sought his fortune abroad in war;
+but subsequently, desiring to learn of the welfare of his mistress and her family,
+whose happiness he prized more than his own, he returned to England, and
+went to Winchester, near which was Walcote, Lady Castlewood's home. The
+family were attending service in the cathedral, and there the reconciliation took
+place.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Esmond had formerly been promised the living of Walcote, but the
+vacancy occurring while the estrangement continued. Lady Castlewood had
+given it to one Mr. Tusher.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxiv" id="lxiv"></a><a href="#anchor_lxiv">LXIV</a>. THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4>(<span class="smcap">December</span>, 1697.)</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">William Edmondstoune Aytoun</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1813-1865.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 560px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Rhine is running deep and red, the island lies before,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+"Now is there one of all the host will dare to venture o'er?<br />
+For not alone the river's sweep might make a brave man quail;<br />
+The foe are on the further side, their shot comes fast as hail.<br />
+God help us, if the middle isle we may not hope to win!<br />
+Now is there any of the host will dare to venture in?"</p>
+
+<p>"The ford is deep, the banks are steep, the island-shore lies<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">wide;</span><br />
+Nor man nor horse could stem its force, or reach the further side.<br />
+See there! amidst the willow-boughs the serried bayonets gleam;<br />
+They've flung their bridge,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they've won the isle; the foe have<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">cross'd the stream!</span><br />
+Their volley flashes sharp and strong,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>by all the saints! I trow<br />
+There never yet was soldier born could force that passage now!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>
+So spoke the bold French Mareschal with him who led the van,<br />
+Whilst rough and red before their view the turbid river ran.<br />
+Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross the wild and swollen<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Rhine,</span><br />
+And thundering on the other bank far stretch'd the German line.<br />
+Hard by there stood a swarthy man was leaning on his sword,<br />
+And a sadden'd smile lit up his face as he heard the Captain's<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">word.</span><br />
+"I've seen a wilder stream ere now than that which rushes there;<br />
+I've stemm'd a heavier torrent yet and never thought to dare.<br />
+If German steel be sharp and keen, is ours not strong and true?<br />
+There may be danger in the deed, but there is honor too."</p>
+
+<p>The old lord in his saddle turn'd, and hastily he said,<br />
+"Hath bold Duguesclin's fiery heart awaken'd from the dead?<br />
+Thou art the leader of the Scots,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>now well and sure I know,<br />
+That gentle blood in dangerous hour ne'er yet ran cold nor<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">slow,</span><br />
+And I have seen ye in the fight do all that mortal may:<br />
+If honor is the boon ye seek, it may be won this day,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+The prize is in the middle isle, there lies the adventurous way,<br />
+And armies twain are on the plain, the daring deed to see,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Now ask thy gallant company if they will follow thee!"</p>
+
+<p>Right gladsome look'd the Captain then, and nothing did he say,<br />
+But he turn'd him to his little band,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>O, few, I ween, were they!<br />
+The relics of the bravest force that ever fought in fray.<br />
+No one of all that company but bore a gentle name,<br />
+Not one whose fathers had not stood in Scotland's fields of fame.<br />
+All they had march'd with great Dundee to where he fought and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">fell,</span><br />
+And in the deadly battle-strife had venged their leader well:<br />
+And they had bent the knee to earth when every eye was dim,<br />
+As o'er their hero's buried corpse they sang the funeral hymn;<br />
+And they had trod the Pass once more, and stoop'd on either<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">side</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropp'd and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">died;</span><br />
+And they had bound it next their hearts, and ta'en a last farewell<br />
+Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, where Scotland's glory fell.<br />
+Then went they forth to foreign lands like bent and broken men,<br />
+Who leave their dearest hope behind, and may not turn again.</p>
+
+<p>"The stream," he said, "is broad and deep, and stubborn is<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">the foe,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Yon island-strength is guarded well,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>say, brothers, will ye go?<br />
+From home and kin for many a year our steps have wander'd<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">wide,</span><br />
+And never may our bones be laid our fathers' graves beside.<br />
+No children have we to lament, no wives to wail our fall;<br />
+The traitor's and the spoiler's hand have reft our hearths of all.<br />
+But we have hearts, and we have arms, as strong to will and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">dare</span><br />
+As when our ancient banners flew within the northern air.<br />
+Come, brothers! let me name a spell shall rouse your souls<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">again,</span><br />
+And send the old blood bounding free through pulse and heart<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">and vein.</span><br />
+Call back the days of bygone years,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>be young and strong once<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">more;</span><br />
+Think yonder stream, so stark and red, is one we've cross'd<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">before.</span><br />
+Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! rise up on either hand,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Again upon the Garry's banks, on Scottish soil we stand!<br />
+Again I see the tartans wave, again the trumpets ring;<br />
+Again I hear our leader's call: 'Upon them for the King!'<br />
+Stay'd we behind that glorious day for roaring flood or linn?<br />
+The soul of Gr<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>me is with us still,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>now, brothers, will ye in?"</p>
+
+<p>No stay,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>no pause. With one accord, they grasp'd each other's<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">hand,</span><br />
+Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless band.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">bore,</span><br />
+Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell, and shot, and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">cannon-roar,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+"Now, by the Holy Cross! I swear, since earth and sea began,<br />
+Was never such a daring deed essay'd by mortal man!"</p>
+
+<p>Thick blew the smoke across the stream, and faster flash'd the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">flame:</span><br />
+The water plash'd in hissing jets as ball and bullet came.<br />
+Yet onwards push'd the Cavaliers all stern and undismay'd,<br />
+With thousand arm<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d foes before, and none behind to aid.<br />
+Once, as they near'd the middle stream, so strong the torrent<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">swept,</span><br />
+That scarce that long and living wall their dangerous footing<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">kept.</span><br />
+Then rose a warning cry behind, a joyous shout before:<br />
+"The current's strong,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the way is long,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they'll never reach<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">the shore!</span><br />
+See, see! they stagger in the midst, they waver in their line!<br />
+Fire on the madmen! break their ranks, and whelm them in<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">the Rhine!"</span></p>
+
+<p>Have you seen the tall trees swaying when the blast is sounding<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">shrill,</span><br />
+And the whirlwind reels in fury down the gorges of the hill?<br />
+How they toss their mighty branches struggling with the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;"> shock;</span><br />
+How they keep their place of vantage, cleaving firmly to the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">rock?</span><br />
+Even so the Scottish warriors held their own against the river;<br />
+Though the water flash'd around them, not an eye was seen to<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">quiver;</span><br />
+Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, not a man relax'd his<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">hold;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span><br />
+For their hearts were big and thrilling with the mighty thoughts<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">of old.</span><br />
+One word was spoke among them, and through the ranks it<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">spread,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+"Remember our dead Claverhouse!" was all the Captain said.<br />
+Then, sternly bending forward, they wrestled on a while,<br />
+Until they clear'd the heavy stream, then rush'd towards the isle.</p>
+
+<p>The German heart is stout and true, the German arm is strong;<br />
+The German foot goes seldom back where arm<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d foemen throng.<br />
+But never had they faced in field so stern a charge before,<br />
+And never had they felt the sweep of Scotland's broad claymore.<br />
+Not fiercer pours the avalanche adown the steep incline,<br />
+That rises o'er the parent-springs of rough and rapid Rhine,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven than came the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Scottish band</span><br />
+Right up against the guarded trench, and o'er it sword in hand.<br />
+In vain their leaders forward press,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they meet the deadly<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">brand!</span></p>
+
+<p>O lonely island of the Rhine,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>where seed was never sown,<br />
+What harvest lay upon thy sands, by those strong reapers thrown?<br />
+What saw the winter moon that night, as, struggling through<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">the rain,</span><br />
+She pour'd a wan and fitful light on marsh, and stream, and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">plain?</span><br />
+A dreary spot with corpses strewn, and bayonets glistening<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">round;</span><br />
+A broken bridge, a stranded boat, a bare and batter'd mound;<br />
+And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile, that sent its quivering<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">glare</span><br />
+To tell the leaders of the host the conquering Scots were there!</p>
+
+<p>And did they twine the laurel-wreath, for those who fought so<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">well?</span><br />
+And did they honor those who liv'd, and weep for those who<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">fell?</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>What meed of thanks was given to them let ag<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d annals tell.<br />
+Why should they bring the laurel-wreath,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>why crown the cup<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">with wine?</span><br />
+It was not Frenchmen's blood that flow'd so freely on the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Rhine,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+A stranger band of beggar'd men had done the venturous deed:<br />
+The glory was to France alone, the danger was their meed.<br />
+And what cared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">peer?</span><br />
+What virtue had such honey'd words the exiled heart to cheer?<br />
+What matter'd it that men should vaunt and loud and fondly<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">swear,</span><br />
+That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere?<br />
+They bore within their breasts the grief that fame can never<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">heal,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel.<br />
+Their hearts were yearning for the land they ne'er might see<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">again,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+For Scotland's high and heather'd hills, for mountain, loch and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">glen</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea,<br />
+Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be!</p>
+
+<p>Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rhine's tempestuous<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">flood</span><br />
+Has ta'en another name from those who bought it with their<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">blood:</span><br />
+And, though the legend does not live,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for legends lightly die<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by,<br />
+And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot<br />
+Won by the warriors of the sword, stills calls that deep<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">and dangerous ford</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The Passage of the Scot.</span></p>
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 500px;">
+<p><i>Sacrifice and Self-Devotion hallow earth and fill the skies.</i></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 12em;">L</span><span class="smcap">ord Houghton</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1809-1885.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxv" id="lxv"></a><a href="#anchor_lxv">LXV</a>. THE GAMBLING PARTY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Earl of Beaconsfield</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1805-1881.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Young Duke</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> young Duke had accepted the invitation of the
+Baron de Berghem for to-morrow, and accordingly, himself,
+Lords Castlefort and Dice, and Temple Grace assembled
+in Brunswick Terrace at the usual hour. The
+dinner was studiously plain, and very little wine was
+drunk; yet everything was perfect. Tom Cogit stepped
+in to carve in his usual silent manner. He always came
+in and went out of a room without anyone observing
+him. He winked familiarly to Temple Grace, but scarcely
+presumed to bow to the Duke. He was very busy about
+the wine, and dressed the wild fowl in a manner quite
+unparalleled. He took particular care to send a most
+perfect portion to the young Duke, and he did this, as he
+paid all attentions to influential strangers, with the most
+marked consciousness of the sufferance which permitted
+his presence: never addressing his Grace, but audibly
+whispering to the servant, "Take this to the Duke"; or
+asking the attendant, "whether his Grace would try the
+Hermitage?"</p>
+
+<p>After dinner, with the exception of Cogit, who was
+busied in compounding some wonderful liquid for the
+future refreshment, they sat down to <ins class="translit" title="e acute"><i>&#233;</i></ins><i>cart</i><ins class="translit" title="e acute"><i>&#233;</i></ins>. Without
+having exchanged a word upon the subject, there seemed
+a general understanding among all the parties that to-night
+was to be a pitched battle, and they began at once,
+briskly. Yet, in spite of their universal determination,
+midnight arrived without anything decisive. Another
+hour passed over, and then Tom Cogit kept touching the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>
+Baron's elbow and whispering in a voice which everybody
+could understand. All this meant that supper was ready.
+It was brought into the room.</p>
+
+<p>Gaming has one advantage, it gives you an appetite;
+that is to say, so long as you have a chance remaining.
+The Duke had thousands; for at present his resources
+were unimpared, and he was exhausted by the constant
+attention and anxiety of five hours. He passed over the
+delicacies and went to the side-table, and began cutting
+himself some cold roast beef. Tom Cogit ran up, not to
+his Grace, but to the Baron, to announce the shocking
+fact that the Duke of St. James was enduring great
+trouble; and then the Baron asked his Grace to permit
+Mr. Cogit to serve him. Our hero devoured: we use the
+word advisedly, as fools say in the House of Commons:
+he devoured the roast beef, and rejecting the Hermitage
+with disgust, asked for porter.</p>
+
+<p>They set to again fresh as eagles. At six o'clock
+accounts were so complicated that they stopped to
+make up their books. Each played with his memoranda
+and pencil at his side. Nothing fatal had yet happened.
+The Duke owed Lord Dice about five thousand
+pounds, and Temple Grace owed him as many hundreds.
+Lord Castlefort also was his debtor to the tune
+of seven hundred and fifty, and the Baron was in his
+books, but slightly. Every half-hour they had a new
+pack of cards, and threw the used one on the floor. All
+this time Tom Cogit did nothing but snuff the candles,
+stir the fire, bring them a new pack, and occasionally
+make a tumbler for them. At eight o'clock the Duke's
+situation was worsened. The run was greatly against
+him, and perhaps his losses were doubled. He pulled up
+again the next hour or two; but nevertheless, at ten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>
+o'clock, owed every one something. No one offered to
+give over; and everyone, perhaps, felt that his object was
+not obtained. They made their toilets and went down-stairs
+to breakfast. In the meantime the shutters were
+opened, the room aired, and in less than an hour they
+were at it again.</p>
+
+<p>They played till dinner-time without intermission; and
+though the Duke made some desperate efforts, and some
+successful ones, his losses were, nevertheless, trebled.
+Yet he ate an excellent dinner and was not at all depressed;
+because the more he lost, the more his courage
+and his resources seemed to expand. At first he had
+limited himself to ten thousand; after breakfast it was
+to have been twenty thousand; then thirty thousand was
+the ultimatum; and now he dismissed all thoughts of
+limits from his mind, and was determined to risk or gain
+everything.</p>
+
+<p>At midnight, he had lost forty-eight thousand pounds.
+Affairs now began to be serious. His supper was not so
+hearty. While the rest were eating, he walked about
+the room, and began to limit his ambition to recovery,
+and not to gain. When you play to win back, the fun is
+over: there is nothing to recompense you for your bodily
+tortures and your degraded feelings; and the very best
+result that can happen, while it has no charms, seems to
+your cowed mind impossible.</p>
+
+<p>On they played, and the Duke lost more. His mind
+was jaded. He floundered, he made desperate efforts,
+but plunged deeper in the slough. Feeling that, to regain
+his ground, each card must tell, he acted on each as
+if it must win, and the consequences of this insanity (for
+a gamester at such a crisis is really insane) were, that his
+losses were prodigious.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>Another morning came, and there they sat, ankle-deep
+in cards. No attempt at breakfast now, no affectation
+of making a toilet or airing the room. The atmosphere
+was hot, to be sure, but it well became such a Hell.
+There they sat, in total, in positive forgetfulness of everything
+but the hot game they were hunting down. There
+was not a man in the room, except Tom Cogit, who could
+have told you the name of the town in which they were
+living. There they sat, almost breathless, watching every
+turn with the fell look in their cannibal eyes which showed
+their total inability to sympathize with their fellow-beings.
+All forms of society had been long forgotten.
+There was no snuff-box handed about now, for courtesy,
+admiration, or a pinch; no affectation of occasionally
+making a remark upon any other topic but the all-engrossing
+one. Lord Castlefort rested with his arms on
+the table: a false tooth had got unhinged. His Lordship,
+who, at any other time, would have been most annoyed,
+coolly put it in his pocket. His cheeks had fallen,
+and he looked twenty years older. Lord Dice had torn
+off his cravat, and his hair hung down over his callous,
+bloodless cheeks, straight as silk. Temple Grace looked
+as if he were blighted by lightning; and his deep blue
+eyes gleamed like a hyena's. The Baron was least
+changed. Tom Cogit, who smelt that the crisis was at
+hand, was as quiet as a bribed rat.</p>
+
+<p>On they played till six o'clock in the evening, and then
+they agreed to desist till after dinner. Lord Dice threw
+himself on a sofa. Lord Castlefort breathed with difficulty.
+The rest walked about. While they were resting
+on their oars, the young Duke roughly made up his accounts.
+He found that he was minus about one hundred
+thousand pounds.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>Immense as this loss was, he was more struck, more
+appalled, let us say, at the strangeness of the surrounding
+scene, than even by his own ruin. As he looked
+upon his fellow gamesters, he seemed, for the first time
+in his life, to gaze upon some of those hideous demons
+of whom he had read. He looked in the mirror at himself.
+A blight seemed to have fallen over his beauty,
+and his presence seemed accursed. He had pursued a
+dissipated, even more than a dissipated career. Many
+were the nights that had been spent by him not on his
+couch; great had been the exhaustion that he had often
+experienced; haggard had sometimes even been the lustre
+of his youth. But when had been marked upon his
+brow this harrowing care? when had his features before
+been stamped with this anxiety, this anguish, this baffled
+desire, this strange unearthly scowl, which made him
+even tremble? What! was it possible? it could not be,
+that in time he was to be like those awful, those unearthly,
+those unhallowed things that were around him.
+He felt as if he had fallen from his state, as if he had
+dishonored his ancestry, as if he had betrayed his trust.
+He felt a criminal. In the darkness of his meditations
+a flash burst from his lurid mind, a celestial light appeared
+to dissipate this thickening gloom, and his soul
+felt as if it were bathed with the softening radiancy. He
+thought of May Dacre, he thought of everything that
+was pure, and holy, and beautiful, and luminous, and
+calm. It was the innate virtue of the man that made
+this appeal to his corrupted nature. His losses seemed
+nothing; his dukedom would be too slight a ransom for
+freedom from these ghouls, and for the breath of the
+sweet air.</p>
+
+<p>He advanced to the Baron, and expressed his desire to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>
+play no more. There was an immediate stir. All jumped
+up, and now the deed was done. Cant, in spite of their
+exhaustion, assumed her reign. They begged him to
+have his revenge, were quite annoyed at the result, had
+no doubt he would recover if he proceeded. Without
+noticing their remarks, he seated himself at the table, and
+wrote cheques for their respective amounts, Tom Cogit
+jumping up and bringing him the inkstand. Lord Castlefort,
+in the most affectionate manner, pocketed the draft;
+at the same time recommending the Duke not to be in a
+hurry, but to send it when he was cool. Lord Dice received
+his with a bow, Temple Grace with a sigh, the
+Baron with an avowal of his readiness always to give him
+his revenge.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke, though sick at heart, would not leave the
+room with any evidence of a broken spirit; and when
+Lord Castlefort again repeated, "Pay us when we meet
+again," he said, "I think it very improbable that we shall
+meet again, my Lord. I wished to know what gaming
+was. I had heard a great deal about it. It is not so
+very disgusting; but I am a young man, and cannot play
+tricks with my complexion."</p>
+
+<p>He reached his house. He gave orders for himself not
+to be disturbed, and he went to bed; but in vain he tried
+to sleep. What rack exceeds the torture of an excited
+brain and an exhausted body? His hands and feet were
+like ice, his brow like fire; his ears rung with supernatural
+roaring; a nausea had seized upon him, and death
+he would have welcomed. In vain, in vain he courted
+repose; in vain, in vain he had recourse to every expedient
+to wile himself to slumber. Each minute he started
+from his pillow with some phrase which reminded him of
+his late fearful society. Hour after hour moved on with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>
+its leaden pace; each hour he heard strike, and each
+hour seemed an age. Each hour was only a signal to
+cast off some covering, or shift his position. It was, at
+length, morning. With a feeling that he should go mad
+if he remained any longer in bed, he rose, and paced his
+chamber. The air refreshed him. He threw himself on
+the floor; the cold crept over his senses, and he slept.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxvi" id="lxvi"></a><a href="#anchor_lxvi">LXVI</a>. THE PICKWICKIANS DISPORT THEMSELVES ON ICE.<a name="FNanchor_O_52" id="FNanchor_O_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_O_52" class="fnanchor">[O]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1812-1870.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Now</span>," said Wardle, after a substantial lunch had
+been done ample justice to; "what say you to an hour
+on the ice? We shall have plenty of time."</p>
+
+<p>"Capital!" said Mr. Benjamin Allen.</p>
+
+<p>"Prime!" ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer.</p>
+
+<p>"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-yes; oh, yes," replied Mr. Winkle. "I<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>am
+<i>rather</i> out of practice."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>
+"Oh, <i>do</i> skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I like to
+see it so much."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is <i>so</i> graceful," said another young lady.</p>
+
+<p>A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth
+expressed her opinion that it was "swan-like."</p>
+
+<p>"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle,
+reddening; "but I have no skates."</p>
+
+<p>This objection was at once over-ruled. Trundle had
+a couple of pair, and the fat boy announced that there
+were half a dozen more down stairs: whereat Mr.
+Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely
+uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice;
+and the fat boy and Mr. Weller, having shovelled and
+swept away the snow which had fallen on it during the
+night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dexterity
+which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvellous, and
+described circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight,
+and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for
+breath, a great many other pleasant and astonishing devices,
+to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, Mr.
+Tupman, and the ladies: which reached a pitch of positive
+enthusiasm, when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen,
+assisted by the aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some
+mystic evolutions, which they called a reel.</p>
+
+<p>All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands
+blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the
+soles of his feet, and putting his skates on, with the
+points behind, and getting the straps into a very complicated
+and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr.
+Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a
+Hindoo. At length, however, with the assistance of Mr.
+Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly screwed and
+buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span>"Now, then, sir," said Sam, in an encouraging tone;
+"off vith you, and show 'em how to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop, Sam, stop!" said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently,
+and clutching hold of Sam's arms with the grasp
+of a drowning man. "How slippery it is, Sam!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr.
+Weller. "Hold up, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference
+to a demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a
+frantic desire to throw his feet in the air, and dash the
+back of his head on the ice.</p>
+
+<p>"These<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>these<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>are very awkward skates; ain't they,
+Sam?" inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afeerd there's a orkard gen'l'm'n in 'em, sir," replied
+Sam.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious
+that there was anything the matter. "Come; the ladies
+are all anxiety."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile.
+"I'm coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to disengage
+himself. "Now, sir, start off!"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging
+most affectionately to Mr. Weller. "I find I've got a
+couple of coats at home that I don't want, Sam. You
+may have them, Sam."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr.
+Winkle, hastily. "You needn't take your hand away to
+do that. I meant to have given you five shillings this
+morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it you this
+afternoon, Sam."</p>
+
+<p>"You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr.
+Winkle. "There<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that's right. I shall soon get in the
+way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not too fast."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Winkle stooping forward, with his body half
+doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller,
+in a very singular and un-swan-like manner, when
+Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite
+bank:</p>
+
+<p>"Sam!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here. I want you."</p>
+
+<p>"Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the governor
+a callin'? Let go, sir."</p>
+
+<p>With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself
+from the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian, and, in so
+doing, administered a considerable impetus to the unhappy
+Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree
+of dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate
+gentleman bore swiftly down into the centre of the
+reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing
+a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr. Winkle
+struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they
+both fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot.
+Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was
+far too wise to do anything of the kind, in skates. He
+was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile;
+but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with
+great anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very
+hard.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you'd let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin,
+with great eagerness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I really think you had better," said Allen.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle; "I'd rather not."</p>
+
+<p>"What do <i>you</i> think, Mr. Pickwick?" inquired Bob
+Sawyer.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned
+to Mr. Weller, and said in a stern voice, "Take his
+skates off."</p>
+
+<p>"No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated
+Mr. Winkle.</p>
+
+<p>"Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick firmly.</p>
+
+<p>The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle
+allowed Sam to obey it in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him
+to rise.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders;
+and beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a
+searching look upon him, and uttered in a low, but distinct
+and emphatic tone, these remarkable words:</p>
+
+<p>"You're a humbug, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.</p>
+
+<p>"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it.
+An impostor, sir."</p>
+
+<p>With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his
+heel, and rejoined his friends.</p>
+
+<p>While Mr. Pickwick was delivering himself of the sentiment
+just recorded, Mr. Weller and the fat boy, having
+by their joint endeavors cut out a slide, were exercising
+themselves thereupon, in a very masterly and brilliant
+manner. Sam Weller, in particular, was displaying that
+beautiful feat of fancy-sliding which is currently denominated
+"knocking at the cobbler's door," and which is
+achieved by skimming over the ice on one foot, and oc<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span>casionally
+giving a postman's knock upon it with the
+other. It was a good long slide, and there was something
+in the motion which Mr. Pickwick, who was very
+cold with standing still, could not help envying.</p>
+
+<p>"It looks a nice warm exercise that, doesn't it?" he
+inquired of Wardle, when that gentleman was thoroughly
+out of breath, by reason of the indefatigable manner in
+which he had converted his legs into a pair of compasses,
+and drawn complicated problems on the ice.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, it does indeed," replied Wardle. "Do you slide?"</p>
+
+<p>"I used to do so on the gutters, when I was a boy," replied
+Mr. Pickwick.</p>
+
+<p>"Try it now," said Wardle.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh do, please, Mr. Pickwick!" cried all the ladies.</p>
+
+<p>"I should be very happy to afford you any amusement,"
+replied Mr. Pickwick, "but I haven't done such a
+thing these thirty years."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!" said Wardle, dragging off
+his skates with the impetuosity which characterized all
+his proceedings. "Here; I'll keep you company; come
+along!" And away went the good tempered old fellow
+down the slide, with a rapidity which came very close
+upon Mr. Weller, and beat the fat boy all to nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves
+and put them in his hat: took two or three short runs,
+baulked himself as often, and at last took another run,
+and went slowly and gravely down the slide, with his
+feet about a yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified
+shouts of all the spectators.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep the pot a bilin', sir!" said Sam; and down
+went Wardle again, and then Mr. Pickwick, and then
+Sam, and then Mr. Winkle, and then Mr. Bob Sawyer,
+and then the fat boy, and then Mr. Snodgrass, following<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span>
+closely upon each other's heels, and running after each
+other with as much eagerness as if all their future prospects
+in life depended on their expedition.</p>
+
+<p>It was the most intensely interesting thing, to observe
+the manner in which Mr. Pickwick performed his share in
+the ceremony; to watch the torture of anxiety with
+which he viewed the person behind, gaining upon him at
+the imminent hazard of tripping him up; to see him
+gradually expend the painful force he had put on at first,
+and turn slowly round on the slide, with his face towards
+the point from which he had started; to contemplate the
+playful smile which mantled on his face when he had accomplished
+the distance, and the eagerness with which
+he turned round when he had done so, and ran after his
+predecessor: his black gaiters tripping pleasantly through
+the snow, and his eyes beaming cheerfulness and gladness
+through his spectacles. And when he was knocked
+down (which happened upon the average every third
+round), it was the most invigorating sight that can possibly
+be imagined, to behold him gather up his hat,
+gloves, and handkerchief, with a glowing countenance,
+and resume his station in the rank, with an ardor and enthusiasm
+that nothing could abate.</p>
+
+<p>The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the
+quickest, the laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp
+smart crack was heard. There was a quick rush towards
+the bank, a wild scream from the ladies, and a shout
+from Mr. Tupman. A large mass of ice disappeared;
+the water bubbled up over it; Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves,
+and handkerchief were floating on the surface; and this
+was all of Mr. Pickwick that anybody could see.</p>
+
+<p>Dismay and anguish were depicted on every countenance,
+the males turned pale, and the females fainted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>
+Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle grasped each other by
+the hand, and gazed at the spot where their leader had
+gone down, with frenzied eagerness: while Mr. Tupman,
+by way of rendering the promptest assistance, and at the
+same time conveying to any persons who might be within
+hearing, the clearest possible notion of the catastrophe,
+ran off across the country at his utmost speed, screaming
+"Fire!" with all his might.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment, when old Wardle and Sam
+Weller were approaching the hole with cautious steps,
+and Mr. Benjamin Allen was holding a hurried consultation
+with Mr. Bob Sawyer on the advisability of bleeding
+the company generally, as an improving little bit of professional
+practice<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>it was at this very moment, that a
+face, head, and shoulders, emerged from beneath the
+water, and disclosed the features and spectacles of Mr.
+Pickwick.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep yourself up for an instant<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for only one instant!"
+bawled Mr. Snodgrass.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, do; let me implore you<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for my sake!" roared
+Mr. Winkle, deeply affected. The adjuration was rather
+unnecessary; the probability being, that if Mr. Pickwick
+had declined to keep himself up for anybody else's sake,
+it would have occurred to him that he might as well do so,
+for his own.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow?" said
+Wardle.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the
+water from his head and face, and gasping for breath. "I
+fell upon my back. I couldn't get on my feet at first."</p>
+
+<p>The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was
+yet visible, bore testimony to the accuracy of this statement;
+and as the fears of the spectators were still fur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>ther
+relieved by the fat boy's suddenly recollecting that
+the water was nowhere more than five feet deep, prodigies
+of valor were performed to get him out. After a
+vast quantity of splashing, and cracking, and struggling,
+Mr. Pickwick was at length fairly extricated from his
+unpleasant position, and once more stood on dry land.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he'll catch his death of cold," said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear old thing!" said Arabella. "Let me wrap this
+shawl round you, Mr. Pickwick."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that's the best thing you can do," said Wardle;
+"and when you've got it on, run home as fast as your
+legs can carry you, and jump into bed directly."</p>
+
+<p>A dozen shawls were offered on the instant. Three or
+four of the thickest having been selected, Mr. Pickwick
+was wrapped up, and started off, under the guidance of
+Mr. Weller: presenting the singular phenomenon of an
+elderly gentleman, dripping wet, and without a hat, with
+his arms bound down to his sides, skimming over the
+ground, without any clearly defined purpose, at the rate
+of six good English miles an hour.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Pickwick cared not for appearances in such an
+extreme case, and urged on by Sam Weller, he kept at
+the very top of his speed until he reached the door of
+Manor Farm, where Mr. Tupman had arrived some five
+minutes before, and had frightened the old lady into palpitations
+of the heart by impressing her with the unalterable
+conviction that the kitchen chimney was on fire<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a
+calamity which always presented itself in glowing
+colors to the old lady's mind, when anybody about her
+evinced the smallest agitation.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pickwick paused not an instant until he was snug
+in bed. Sam Weller lighted a blazing fire in his room,
+and took up his dinner, and afterwards a great rejoicing
+was held in honor of his safety.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_O_52" id="Footnote_O_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_O_52"><span class="label">[O]</span></a> <span class="smcap">Mr. Pickwick</span>, a benevolent, simple-minded old gentleman, is the founder
+of the Pickwick Club. He and three other members, Mr. Winkle, Mr. Snodgrass,
+and Mr. Tupman, form the Corresponding Society of the club, and they
+travel over England together, meeting with many laughable adventures. They
+are accompanied by Samuel Weller, Mr. Pickwick's servant, an inimitable compound
+of cool impudence, quaint humor, and fidelity. The Pickwickians have
+accepted the invitation of Mr. Wardle, of Manor Farm, Dingley Dell, to be
+present at the marriage of his daughter, Isabella, to Mr. Trundle. Among the
+guests are also Mr. Bob Sawyer and Mr. Benjamin Allen, two medical students,
+and Mr. Allen's sister, Arabella. Other members of Mr. Wardle's household
+are Mr. Wardle's mother, the "old lady" of Manor Farm, his daughter, Emily,
+and Joe, a servant lad, known as the "fat boy." The wedding takes place on
+the twenty-third of December, and then follow the Christmas festivities, of which
+the skating forms a part.</p></div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxvii" id="lxvii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxvii">LXVII</a>. THE HANGING OF THE CRANE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1807-1882.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 440px;">
+
+<p>I.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> lights are out, and gone are all the guests<br />
+That thronging came with merriment and jests<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To celebrate the Hanging of the Crane</span><br />
+In the new house,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>into the night are gone;<br />
+But still the fire upon the hearth burns on,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And I alone remain.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">O fortunate, O happy day,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">When a new household finds its place</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Among the myriad homes of earth,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Like a new star just sprung to birth,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And roll'd on its harmonious way</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Into the boundless realms of space!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">So said the guests in speech and song,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">As in the chimney, burning bright,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And merry was the feast and long.</span></p>
+
+<p>II.</p>
+
+<p>And now I sit and muse on what may be,<br />
+And in my vision see, or seem to see,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Through floating vapors interfused with light,</span><br />
+Shapes indeterminate, that gleam and fade,<br />
+As shadows passing into deeper shade<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Sink and elude the sight.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">For two alone, there in the hall,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Is spread the table round and small;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Upon the polish'd silver shine</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The evening lamps, but, more divine,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span><span style="padding-left: 4em;">The light of love shines over all;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Of love, that says not mine and thine,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">But ours, for ours is thine and mine.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">They want no guests, to come between</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Their tender glances like a screen,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And tell them tales of land and sea,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And whatsoever may betide</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The great, forgotten world outside;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">They want no guests; they needs must be</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Each other's own best company.</span></p>
+
+<p>III.</p>
+
+<p>The picture fades; as at a village fair<br />
+A showman's views, dissolving into air,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Again appear transfigured on the screen,</span><br />
+So in my fancy this; and now once more,<br />
+In part transfigured, through the open door<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Appears the selfsame scene.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">Seated, I see the two again,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">But not alone; they entertain</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">A little angel unaware,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">With face as round as is the moon;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">A royal guest with flaxen hair,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Who, throned upon his lofty chair,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Drums on the table with his spoon,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Then drops it careless on the floor,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">To grasp at things unseen before.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">Are these celestial manners? these</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The ways that win, the arts that please?</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Ah yes; consider well the guest,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And whatsoe'er he does seems best;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">He ruleth by the right divine</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Of helplessness, so lately born</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">In purple chambers of the morn,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">As sovereign over thee and thine.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">He speaketh not; and yet there lies</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">A conversation in his eyes;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The golden silence of the Greek,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The gravest wisdom of the wise,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Not spoken in language, but in looks</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">More legible than printed books,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">As if he could but would not speak.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And now, O monarch absolute,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thy power is put to proof; for, lo!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Resistless, fathomless, and slow,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The nurse comes rustling like the sea,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And pushes back thy chair and thee,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And so good night to King Canute.</span></p>
+
+<p>IV.</p>
+
+<p>As one who walking in a forest sees<br />
+A lovely landscape through the parted trees,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Then sees it not, for boughs that intervene;</span><br />
+Or, as we see the moon sometimes reveal'd<br />
+Through drifting clouds, and then again conceal'd,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">So I behold the scene.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">There are two guests at table now;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The king, deposed and older grown,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">No longer occupies the throne,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The crown is on his sister's brow;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">A Princess from the Fairy Isles,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The very pattern girl of girls,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">All cover'd and embower'd in curls,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Rose-tinted from the Isle of Flowers,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And sailing with soft, silken sails</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">From far-off Dreamland into ours.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Above their bowls with rims of blue</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Four azure eyes of deeper hue</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Are looking, dreamy with delight;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Limpid as planets that emerge</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Above the ocean's rounded verge,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Soft-shining through the summer night.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Steadfast they gaze, yet nothing see</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Beyond the horizon of their bowls;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Nor care they for the world that rolls</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">With all its freight of troubled souls</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Into the days that are to be.</span></p>
+
+<p>V.</p>
+
+<p>Again the tossing boughs shut out the scene,<br />
+Again the drifting vapors intervene,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the moon's pallid disk is hidden quite:</span><br />
+And now I see the table wider grown,<br />
+As round a pebble into water thrown<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Dilates a ring of light.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">I see the table wider grown,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">I see it garlanded with guests,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">As if fair Ariadne's Crown</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Out of the sky had fallen down;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Maidens within whose tender breasts</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">A thousand restless hopes and fears,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Forth reaching to the coming years,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Flutter awhile, then quiet lie,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Like timid birds that fain would fly,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">But do not dare to leave their nests;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And youths, who in their strength elate</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Challenge the van and front of fate,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Eager as champions to be</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">In the divine knight-errantry</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Of youth, that travels sea and land</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Seeking adventures, or pursues,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Through cities, and through solitudes</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Frequented by the lyric Muse,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The phantom with the beckoning hand,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">That still allures and still eludes.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">O sweet illusions of the brain!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">O sudden thrills of fire and frost!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The world is bright while ye remain,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And dark and dead when ye are lost!</span></p>
+
+<p>VI.</p>
+
+<p>The meadow-brook, that seemeth to stand still,<br />
+Quickens its current as it nears the mill;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And so the stream of Time that lingereth</span><br />
+In level places, and so dull appears,<br />
+Runs with a swifter current as it nears<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The gloomy mills of Death.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">And now, like the magician's scroll,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">That in the owner's keeping shrinks</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">With every wish he speaks or thinks,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Till the last wish consumes the whole,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The table dwindles, and again</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">I see the two alone remain.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The crown of stars is broken in parts;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Its jewels, brighter than the day,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Have one by one been stolen away</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">To shine in other homes and hearts.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">One is a wanderer now afar</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">In Ceylon or in Zanzibar,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Or sunny regions of Cathay;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And one is in the boisterous camp</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Mid clink of arms and horses' tramp,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And battle's terrible array.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">I see the patient mother read,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">With aching heart, of wrecks that float</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Disabled on those seas remote,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Or of some great heroic deed</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">On battle-fields, where thousands bleed</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">To lift one hero into fame.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Anxious she bends her graceful head</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Above these chronicles of pain,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And trembles with a secret dread</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Lest there among the drown'd or slain</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">She find the one belov</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d name.</p>
+
+<p>VII.</p>
+
+<p>After a day of cloud and wind and rain<br />
+Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And, touching all the darksome woods with light.</span><br />
+Smiles on the fields, until they laugh and sing,<br />
+Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Drops down into the night.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">What see I now? The night is fair,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The storm of grief, the clouds of care,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The wind, the rain, have pass'd away;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The lamps are lit, the fires burn bright,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The house is full of life and light:</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">It is the Golden Wedding day.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The guests come thronging in once more,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Quick footsteps sound along the floor,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The trooping children crowd the stair,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And in and out and everywhere</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Flashes along the corridor</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The sunshine of their golden hair.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">On the round table in the hall</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Another Ariadne's Crown</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Out of the sky hath fallen down;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">More than one Monarch of the Moon</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Is drumming with his silver spoon;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The light of love shines over all.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">O fortunate, O happy day!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The people sing, the people say.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">The ancient bridegroom and the bride,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Smiling contented and serene,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Upon the blithe, bewildering scene,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Behold, well pleas'd, on every side</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Their forms and features multiplied,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">As the reflection of a light</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Between two burnish'd mirrors gleams,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Or lamps upon a bridge at night</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Stretch on and on before the sight,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Till the long vista endless seems.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxviii" id="lxviii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxviii">LXVIII</a>. EARTHWORMS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Charles Darwin</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1809-1882.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Formation of Vegetable Mould<br />through the action of
+Worms</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Worms</span> have played a more important part in the history
+of the world than most persons would at first suppose.
+In almost all humid countries they are extraordinarily
+numerous, and for their size possess great muscular
+power. In many parts of England a weight of more
+than ten tons of dry earth annually passes through their
+bodies and is brought to the surface on each acre of
+land; so that the whole superficial bed of vegetable
+mould passes through their bodies in the course of every
+few years. From the collapsing of the old burrows the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>
+mould is in constant though slow movement, and the
+particles composing it are thus rubbed together. By
+these means fresh surfaces are continually exposed to
+the action of the carbonic acid in the soil, and of the
+humus-acids which appear to be still more efficient in
+the decomposition of rocks. The generation of the
+humus-acids is probably hastened during the digestion
+of the many half-decayed leaves which worms consume.
+Thus the particles of earth, forming the superficial
+mould, are subjected to conditions eminently favorable
+for their decomposition and disintegration. Moreover,
+the particles of the softer rocks suffer some amount of
+mechanical trituration in the muscular gizzards of worms,
+in which small stones serve as mill-stones....</p>
+
+<p>Arch<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>ologists ought to be grateful to worms, as they
+protect and preserve for an indefinitely long period every
+object, not liable to decay, which is dropped on the surface
+of the land, by burying it beneath their castings.
+Thus, also, many elegant and curious tesselated pavements
+and other ancient remains have been preserved;
+though no doubt the worms have in these cases been
+largely aided by earth washed and blown from the adjoining
+land, especially when cultivated. The old tesselated
+pavements have, however, often suffered by having
+subsided unequally from being unequally undermined by
+the worms. Even old massive walls may be undermined
+and subside; and no building is in this respect safe, unless
+the foundations lie six or seven feet beneath the surface,
+at a depth at which worms cannot work. It is probable
+that many monoliths and some old walls have
+fallen down from having been undermined by worms.</p>
+
+<p>Worms prepare the ground in an excellent manner for
+the growth of fibrous-rooted plants and for seedlings of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>
+all kinds. They periodically expose the mould to the
+air, and sift it so that no stones larger than the particles
+which they can swallow are left in it. They mingle the
+whole intimately together, like a gardener who prepares
+fine soil for his choicest plants. In this state it is well
+fitted to retain moisture and to absorb all soluble substances,
+as well as for the process of nitrification. The
+bones of dead animals, the harder parts of insects, the
+shells of land-molluscs, leaves, twigs, etc., are before
+long all buried beneath the accumulated castings of
+worms, and are thus brought in a more or less decayed
+state within reach of the roots of plants. Worms likewise
+drag an infinite number of dead leaves and other
+parts of plants into their burrows, partly for the sake of
+plugging them up and partly as food.</p>
+
+<p>The leaves which are dragged into the burrows as
+food, after being torn into the finest shreds, partially digested,
+and saturated with the intestinal secretions, are
+commingled with much earth. This earth forms the
+dark-colored, rich humus which almost everywhere
+covers the surface of the land with a fairly well-defined
+layer or mantle. Von Hensen placed two worms in a
+vessel eighteen inches in diameter, which was filled with
+sand, on which fallen leaves were strewed; and these
+were soon dragged into their burrows to a depth of three
+inches. After about six weeks an almost uniform layer
+of sand, a centimetre (.4 inch) in thickness, was converted
+into humus by having passed through the alimentary
+canals of these two worms. It is believed by some persons
+that worm-burrows, which often penetrate the
+ground almost perpendicularly to a depth of five or six
+feet, materially aid in its drainage; notwithstanding that
+the viscid castings piled over the mouths of the burrows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span>
+prevent or check the rain-water directly entering them.
+They allow the air to penetrate deeply into the ground.
+They also greatly facilitate the downward passage of
+roots of moderate size; and these will be nourished by
+the humus with which the burrows are lined. Many
+seeds owe their germination to having been covered by
+castings; and others buried to a considerable depth beneath
+accumulated castings lie dormant, until at some
+future time they are accidentally uncovered and germinate.</p>
+
+<p>Worms are poorly provided with sense-organs, for
+they cannot be said to see, although they can just distinguish
+between light and darkness; they are completely
+deaf, and have only a feeble power of smell; the
+sense of touch alone is well developed. They can therefore
+learn little about the outside world, and it is surprising
+that they should exhibit some skill in lining their burrows
+with their castings and with leaves, and in the case
+of some species in piling up their castings into tower-like
+constructions. But it is far more surprising that they
+should apparently exhibit some degree of intelligence
+instead of a mere blind instinctive impulse, in their manner
+of plugging up the mouths of their burrows. They
+act in nearly the same manner as would a man, who had
+to close a cylindrical tube with different kinds of leaves,
+petioles, triangles of paper, etc., for they commonly seize
+such objects by their pointed ends. But with thin objects
+a certain number are drawn in by their broader
+ends. They do not act in the same unvarying manner
+in all cases, as do most of the lower animals; for instance,
+they do not drag in leaves by their foot-stalks,
+unless the basal part of the blade is as narrow as the
+apex, or narrower than it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span>When we behold a wide, turf-covered expanse, we
+should remember that its smoothness, on which so much
+of its beauty depends, is mainly due to all the inequalities
+having been slowly levelled by worms. It is a marvellous
+reflection that the whole of the superficial mould
+over any such expanse has passed, and will again pass,
+every few years, through the bodies of worms. The
+plough is one of the most ancient and most valuable of
+man's inventions; but long before he existed the land
+was in fact regularly ploughed, and still continues to be
+thus ploughed by earth-worms. It may be doubted
+whether there are many other animals which have played
+so important a part in the history of the world, as have
+these lowly organized creatures.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxix" id="lxix"></a><a href="#anchor_lxix">LXIX</a>. "AS SHIPS, BECALMED AT EVE."</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Arthur Hugh Clough</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1819-1861.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 400px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">As</span> ships, becalm'd at eve, that lay<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With canvas drooping, side by side,</span><br />
+Two towers of sail at dawn of day<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Are scarce long leagues apart descried;</span></p>
+
+<p>When fell the night, upsprung the breeze,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And all the darkling hours they plied,</span><br />
+Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">By each was cleaving, side by side:</span></p>
+
+<p>E'en so<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but why the tale reveal<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Of those, whom year by year unchanged,</span><br />
+Brief absence join'd anew to feel,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Astounded, soul from soul estranged?</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>
+At dead of night their sails were fill'd,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And onward each rejoicing steer'd</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Ah, neither blame, for neither will'd,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or wist, what first with dawn appear'd!</span></p>
+
+<p>To veer, how vain! On, onward strain,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Brave barks! In light, in darkness too,</span><br />
+Through winds and tides one compass guides<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To that, and your own selves, be true.</span></p>
+
+<p>But O blithe breeze! and O great seas,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Though ne'er, that earliest parting past,</span><br />
+On your wide plain they join again,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Together lead them home at last.</span></p>
+
+<p>One port, methought, alike they sought,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">One purpose hold where'er they fare,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+O bounding breeze, O rushing seas!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">At last, at last, unite them there.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxx" id="lxx"></a><a href="#anchor_lxx">LXX</a>. DUTY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Arthur Hugh Clough</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 410px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Duty</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that's to say, complying<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With whate'er's expected here;</span><br />
+On your unknown cousin's dying,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Straight be ready with the tear;</span><br />
+Upon etiquette relying,<br />
+Unto usage nought denying,<br />
+Lend your waist to be embraced,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Blush not even, never fear;</span><br />
+Claims of kith and kin connection,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Claims of manners honor still,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>
+Ready money of affection<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Pay, whoever drew the bill.</span><br />
+With the form conforming duly,<br />
+Senseless what it meaneth truly,<br />
+Go to church<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the world require you,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To balls</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the world require you too,<br />
+And marry<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>papa and mamma desire you,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And your sisters and schoolfellows do.</span></p>
+
+<p>Duty<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>'tis to take on trust<br />
+What things are good, and right, and just;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And whether indeed they be or be not,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Try not, test not, feel not, see not:</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">'Tis walk and dance, sit down and rise</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">By leading, opening ne'er your eyes;</span><br />
+Stunt sturdy limbs that Nature gave,<br />
+And be drawn in a Bath chair along to the grave.</p>
+
+<p>'Tis the stern and prompt suppressing,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As an obvious deadly sin,</span><br />
+All the questing and the guessing<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Of the soul's own soul within:</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">'Tis the coward acquiescence</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">In a destiny's behest,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To a shade by terror made,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Sacrificing, aye, the essence</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Of all that's truest, noblest, best:</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">'Tis the blind non-recognition</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Or of goodness, truth, or beauty,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Save by precept and submission;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Moral blank, and moral void,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Life at very birth destroy'd.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Atrophy, exinanition!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Duty!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Yea, by duty's prime condition</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Pure nonentity of duty!</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxi" id="lxxi"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxi">LXXI</a>. SONNETS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Charles Heavysege</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1816-1876.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 440px;">
+
+<p>I.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> day was lingering in the pale north-west,<br />
+And night was hanging o'er my head,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Night where a myriad stars were spread;<br />
+While down in the east, where the light was least,<br />
+Seem'd the home of the quiet dead.<br />
+And, as I gazed on the field sublime,<br />
+To watch the bright, pulsating stars,<br />
+Adown the deep where the angels sleep<br />
+Came drawn the golden chime<br />
+Of those great spheres that sound the years<br />
+For the horologe of time.<br />
+Millenniums numberless they told,<br />
+Millenniums a million-fold<br />
+From the ancient hour of prime.</p>
+
+<p>II.</p>
+
+<p>The stars are glittering in the frosty sky,<br />
+Frequent as pebbles on a broad sea-coast;<br />
+And o'er the vault the cloud-like galaxy<br />
+Has marshall'd its innumerable host.<br />
+Alive all heaven seems! with wondrous glow<br />
+Tenfold refulgent every star appears,<br />
+As if some wide, celestial gale did blow,<br />
+And thrice illume the ever-kindled spheres.<br />
+Orbs, with glad orbs rejoicing, burning, beam,<br />
+Ray-crown'd, with lambent lustre in their zones,<br />
+Till o'er the blue, bespangled spaces seem<br />
+Angels and great archangels on their thrones;<br />
+A host divine, whose eyes are sparkling gems,<br />
+And forms more bright than diamond diadems.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span></p>
+<p>III.</p>
+
+<p>Hush'd in a calm beyond mine utterance,<br />
+See in the western sky the evening spread;<br />
+Suspended in its pale, serene expanse,<br />
+Like scatter'd flames, the glowing cloudlets red.<br />
+Clear are those clouds; and that pure sky's profound,<br />
+Transparent as a lake of hyaline;<br />
+Nor motion, nor the faintest breath of sound,<br />
+Disturbs the steadfast beauty of the scene.<br />
+Far o'er the vault, the winnow'd welkin wide,<br />
+From the bronzed east unto the whiten'd west,<br />
+Moor'd, seem, in their sweet, tranquil, roseate pride,<br />
+Those clouds the fabled islands of the blest;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+The lands where pious spirits breathe in joy,<br />
+And love and worship all their hours employ.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxii" id="lxxii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxii">LXXII</a>. DOCTOR ARNOLD AT RUGBY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Arthur Penrhyn Stanley</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1815-1880.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">With</span> his usual and undoubting confidence in what he
+believed to be a general law of Providence, he based his
+whole management of the school on his early-formed
+and yearly-increasing conviction that what he had to
+look for, both intellectually and morally, was not performance
+but promise; that the very freedom and independence
+of school life, which in itself he thought so dangerous,
+might be made the best preparation for Christian
+manhood; and he did not hesitate to apply to his scholars
+the principle which seemed to him to have been adopted
+in the training of the childhood of the human race<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>
+itself. He shrunk from pressing on the conscience of
+boys rules of action which he felt they were not yet
+able to bear, and from enforcing actions which, though
+right in themselves, would in boys be performed from
+wrong motives. Keenly as he felt the risk and fatal consequences
+of the failure of this trial, still it was his great,
+sometimes his only support to believe that "the character
+is braced amid such scenes to a greater beauty and firmness
+than it ever can attain without enduring and witnessing
+them. Our work here would be absolutely unendurable
+if we did not bear in mind that we should
+look forward as well as backward<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>if we did not remember
+that the victory of fallen man lies not in innocence
+but in tried virtue." "I hold fast," he said, "to the
+great truth, that 'blessed is he that overcometh;'" and
+he writes in 1837: "Of all the painful things connected
+with my employment, nothing is equal to the grief of
+seeing a boy come to school innocent and promising, and
+tracing the corruption of his character from the influence
+of the temptations around him, in the very place
+which ought to have strengthened and improved it. But
+in most cases those who come with a character of positive
+good are benefited; it is the neutral and indecisive
+characters which are apt to be decided for evil by schools,
+as they would be in fact by any other temptation."</p>
+
+<p>But this very feeling led him with the greater eagerness
+to catch at every means by which the trial might be shortened
+or alleviated. "Can the change from childhood to
+manhood be hastened, without prematurely exhausting
+the faculties of body or mind?" was one of the chief
+questions on which his mind was constantly at work, and
+which in the judgment of some he was disposed to answer
+too readily in the affirmative. It was with the elder boys,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span>
+of course, that he chiefly acted on this principle, but with
+all above the very young ones he trusted to it more or
+less. Firmly as he believed that <i>a</i> time of trial was inevitable,
+he believed no less firmly that it might be passed
+at public schools sooner than under other circumstances;
+and, in proportion as he disliked the assumption of a
+false manliness in boys, was his desire to cultivate in
+them true manliness, as the only step to something
+higher, and to dwell on earnest principle and moral
+thoughtfulness, as the great and distinguishing mark between
+good and evil. Hence his wish that as much as
+possible should be done <i>by</i> the boys, and nothing <i>for</i>
+them; hence arose his practice, in which his own delicacy
+of feeling and uprightness of purpose powerfully
+assisted him, of treating the boys as gentlemen and
+reasonable beings, of making them respect themselves
+by the mere respect he showed to them; of showing
+that he appealed and trusted to their own common sense
+and conscience. Lying, for example, to the masters, he
+made a great moral offence: placing implicit confidence
+in a boy's assertion, and then, if a falsehood was discovered,
+punishing it severely,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in the upper part of the school,
+when persisted in, with expulsion. Even with the lower
+forms he never seemed to be on the watch for boys; and
+in the higher forms any attempt at further proof of an assertion
+was immediately checked: "If you say so, that
+is quite enough<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>of course</i> I believe your word;" and
+there grew up in consequence a general feeling that "it
+was a shame to tell Arnold a lie<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>he always believes one."</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the liveliest representation of this general
+spirit, as distinguished from its exemplification in particular
+parts of the discipline and instruction, would be
+formed by recalling his manner, as he appeared in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span>
+great school, where the boys used to meet when the
+whole school was assembled collectively, and not in its
+different forms or classes. Then, whether on his usual
+entrance every morning to prayers before the first lesson,
+or on the more special emergencies which might require
+his presence, he seemed to stand before them, not merely
+as the head-master, but as the representative of the
+school. There he spoke to them as members together
+with himself of the same great institution, whose character
+and reputation they had to sustain as well as he. He
+would dwell on the satisfaction he had in being head of
+a society, where noble and honorable feelings were encouraged,
+or on the disgrace which he felt in hearing of
+acts of disorder or violence, such as in the humbler ranks
+of life would render them amenable to the laws of their
+country; or again, on the trust which he placed in
+their honor as gentlemen, and the baseness of any instance
+in which it was abused. "Is this a Christian
+school?" he indignantly asked at the end of one of those
+addresses, in which he had spoken of an extensive display
+of bad feeling amongst the boys; and then added,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"I
+cannot remain here if all this is to be carried on by
+constraint and force; if I am to be here as a jailer, I will
+resign my office at once." And few scenes can be recorded
+more characteristic of him than on one of these
+occasions, when, in consequence of a disturbance, he had
+been obliged to send away several boys, and when in the
+midst of the general spirit of discontent which this excited,
+he stood in his place before the assembled school
+and said: "It is <i>not</i> necessary that this should be a school
+of three hundred, or one hundred, or of fifty boys; but
+it <i>is</i> necessary that it should be a school of Christian
+gentlemen."</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxiii" id="lxxiii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxiii">LXXIII</a>. ODE TO THE NORTH-EAST WIND.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Charles Kingsley</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1819-1875.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 290px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Welcome</span>, wild North-easter!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shame it is to see</span><br />
+Odes to every zephyr;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Ne'er a verse to thee.</span><br />
+Welcome, black North-easter!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O'er the German foam;</span><br />
+O'er the Danish moorlands,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From thy frozen home.</span><br />
+Tired we are of summer,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Tired of gaudy glare,</span><br />
+Showers soft and steaming,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Hot and breathless air.</span><br />
+Tired of listless dreaming<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Through the lazy day:</span><br />
+Jovial wind of winter<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Turns us out to play!</span><br />
+Sweep the golden reed-beds;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Crisp the lazy dyke;</span><br />
+Hunger into madness<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Every plunging pike.</span><br />
+Fill the lake with wild-fowl;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Fill the marsh with snipe;</span><br />
+While on dreary moorlands<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Lonely curlew pipe.</span><br />
+Through the black fir-forest<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thunder harsh and dry,</span><br />
+Shattering down the snow-flakes<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Off the curdled sky.</span><br />
+Hark! The brave North-easter!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Breast-high lies the scent,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span>On by holt and headland,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Over heath and bent.</span><br />
+Chime, ye dappled darlings,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Through the sleet and snow.</span><br />
+Who can over-ride you?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Let the horses go!</span><br />
+Chime, ye dappled darlings,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Down the roaring blast;</span><br />
+You shall see a fox die<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Ere an hour be past.</span><br />
+Go! and rest to-morrow,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Hunting in your dreams,</span><br />
+While our skates are ringing<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">O'er the frozen streams.</span><br />
+Let the luscious South-wind<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Breathe in lovers' sighs,</span><br />
+While the lazy gallants<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Bask in ladies' eyes.</span><br />
+What does he but soften<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Heart alike and pen?</span><br />
+'Tis the hard grey weather<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Breeds hard English men.</span><br />
+What's the soft South-wester?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">'Tis the ladies' breeze,</span><br />
+Bringing home their true-loves<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Out of all the seas.</span><br />
+But the black North-easter,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Through the snow-storm hurl'd,</span><br />
+Drives our English hearts of oak<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Seaward round the world.</span><br />
+Come, as came our fathers,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Heralded by thee,</span><br />
+Conquering from the eastward,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Lords by land and sea.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span>
+Come; and strong within us<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Stir the Vikings' blood,</span><br />
+Bracing brain and sinew;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Blow, thou wind of God!</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxiv" id="lxxiv"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxiv">LXXIV</a>. FROM "THE MILL ON THE FLOSS."</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">George Eliot</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1820-1880.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning Maggie was trotting with her own
+fishing-rod in one hand and a handle of the basket in the
+other, stepping always, by a peculiar gift, in the muddiest
+places, and looking darkly radiant from under her beaver
+bonnet because Tom was good to her. She had told
+Tom, however, that she should like him to put the worms
+on the hook for her, although she accepted his word when
+he assured her that worms couldn't feel (it was Tom's
+private opinion that it didn't much matter if they did).
+He knew all about worms, and fish, and those things;
+and what birds were mischievous, and how padlocks
+opened, and which way the handles of the gates were to
+be lifted. Maggie thought this sort of knowledge was
+very wonderful<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>much more difficult than remembering
+what was in the books; and she was rather in awe of
+Tom's superiority, for he was the only person who called
+her knowledge "stuff," and did not feel surprised at her
+cleverness. Tom, indeed, was of opinion that Maggie
+was a silly little thing; all girls were silly; they couldn't
+throw a stone so as to hit anything, couldn't do anything
+with a pocket-knife, and were frightened at frogs. Still,
+he was very fond of his sister, and meant always to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span>
+care of her, make her his housekeeper, and punish her
+when she did wrong.</p>
+
+<p>They were on their way to the Round Pool<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that
+wonderful pool, which the floods had made a long while
+ago. No one knew how deep it was; and it was mysterious,
+too, that it should be almost a perfect round,
+framed in with willows and tall reeds, so that the water
+was only to be seen when you got close to the brink.
+The sight of the old favorite spot always heightened
+Tom's good-humor, and he spoke to Maggie in the most
+amiable whispers, as he opened the precious basket and
+prepared their tackle. He threw her line for her, and
+put the rod into her hand. Maggie thought it probable
+that the small fish would come to her hook, and the large
+ones to Tom's. But she had forgotten all about the fish,
+and was looking dreamily at the glassy water, when Tom
+said, in a loud whisper, "Look! look, Maggie!" and came
+running to prevent her from snatching her line away.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie was frightened lest she had been doing something
+wrong, as usual, but presently Tom drew out her
+line and brought a large tench bouncing on the grass.</p>
+
+<p>Tom was excited.</p>
+
+<p>"O Magsie! you little duck! Empty the basket."</p>
+
+<p>Maggie was not conscious of unusual merit, but it was
+enough that Tom called her Magsie, and was pleased
+with her. There was nothing to mar her delight in the
+whispers and the dreamy silences, when she listened to
+the light dipping sounds of the rising fish, and the gentle
+rustling, as if the willows, and the reeds, and the water
+had their happy whisperings also. Maggie thought it
+would make a very nice heaven to sit by the pool in that
+way, and never be scolded. She never knew she had a
+bite till Tom told her, but she liked fishing very much.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span>
+It was one of their happy mornings. They trotted
+along and sat down together, with no thought that life
+would ever change much for them: they would only get
+bigger and not go to school, and it would always be like
+the holidays; they would always live together and be
+fond of each other. And the mill with its booming<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the
+great chestnut-tree under which they played at houses<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>their
+own little river, the Ripple, where the banks seemed
+like home, and Tom was always seeing the water-rats,
+while Maggie gathered the purple plumy tops of the
+reeds, which she forgot and dropped afterward<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>above
+all, the great Floss, along which they wandered with a
+sense of travel, to see the rushing spring-tide, the awful
+Eagre, come up like a hungry monster, or to see the
+Great Ash which had once wailed and groaned like a
+man<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>these things would always be just the same to
+them. Tom thought people were at a disadvantage who
+lived on any other spot of the globe; and Maggie, when
+she read about Christiana passing "the river over which
+there is no bridge," always saw the Floss between the
+green pastures by the Great Ash.</p>
+
+<p>Life did change for Tom and Maggie; and yet they
+were not wrong in believing that the thoughts and loves
+of these first years would always make part of their lives.
+We could never have loved the earth so well if we had
+had no childhood in it<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>if it were not the earth where
+the same flowers come up again every spring that we
+used to gather with our tiny fingers as we sat lisping to
+ourselves on the grass<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the same hips and haws on the
+autumn hedgerows<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the same red-breasts that we used
+to call "God's birds," because they did no harm to the
+precious crops. What novelty is worth that sweet monotony
+where everything is known, and <i>loved</i> because it is
+known?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>
+The wood I walk in on this mild May day, with the
+young yellow-brown foliage of the oaks between me and
+the blue sky, the white star-flowers, and the blue-eyed
+speedwell, and the ground-ivy at my feet<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>what grove of
+tropic palms, what strange ferns or splendid broad-petaled
+blossoms, could ever thrill such deep and delicate fibres
+within me as this home-scene? These familiar flowers,
+these well-remembered bird-notes, this sky with its fitful
+brightness, these furrowed and grassy fields, each with a
+sort of personality given to it by the capricious hedgerows<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>such
+things as these are the mother tongue of our
+imagination, the language that is laden with all the subtle
+inextricable associations the fleeting hours of our childhood
+left behind them. Our delight in the sunshine on
+the deep-bladed grass to-day might be no more than the
+faint perception of wearied souls, if it were not for the
+sunshine and the grass in the far-off years, which still live
+in us, and transform our perception into love.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxv" id="lxxv"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxv">LXXV</a>. THE CLOUD CONFINES.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Dante Gabriel Rossetti</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1828-1882.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 380px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> day is dark and the night<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To him that would search their heart;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">No lips of cloud that will part</span><br />
+Nor morning song in the light:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Only, gazing alone,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To him wild shadows are shown,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Deep under deep unknown</span><br />
+And height above unknown height.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Still we say as we go,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">"Strange to think by the way,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Whatever there is to know,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">That shall we know one day."</span></p>
+
+<p>The Past is over and fled;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Named new, we name it the old;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thereof some tale hath been told,</span><br />
+But no word comes from the dead;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Whether at all they be,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or whether as bond or free,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or whether they too were we,</span><br />
+Or by what spell they have sped.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Still we say as we go,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">"Strange to think by the way,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Whatever there is to know,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">That shall we know one day."</span></p>
+
+<p>What of the heart of hate<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That beats in thy breast, O Time?</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Red strife from the furthest prime,</span><br />
+And anguish of fierce debate;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">War that shatters her slain,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And peace that grinds them as grain,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And eyes fix'd ever in vain</span><br />
+On the pitiless eyes of Fate.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Still we say as we go,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">"Strange to think by the way,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Whatever there is to know,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">That shall we know one day."</span></p>
+
+<p>What of the heart of love<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That bleeds in thy breast, O Man?</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thy kisses snatch'd 'neath the ban</span><br />
+Of fangs that mock them above;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thy bells prolong'd unto knells,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thy hope that a breath dispels,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thy bitter forlorn farewells</span><br />
+And the empty echoes thereof?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Still we say as we go,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">"Strange to think by the way,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Whatever there is to know,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">That shall we know one day."</span></p>
+
+<p>The sky leans dumb on the sea,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Aweary with all its wings;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And oh! the song the sea sings</span><br />
+Is dark everlastingly.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Our past is clean forgot,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Our present is and is not,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Our future's a seal'd seedplot,</span><br />
+And what betwixt them are we?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">We who say as we go,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">"Strange to think by the way,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Whatever there is to know,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">That shall we know one day."</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxvi" id="lxxvi"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxvi">LXXVI</a>. BARBARA FRIETCHIE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">John Greenleaf Whittier</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1807-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 360px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Up</span> from the meadows rich with corn,<br />
+Clear in the cool September morn,</p>
+
+<p>The cluster'd spires of Frederick stand<br />
+Green-wall'd by the hills of Maryland.</p>
+
+<p>Round about them orchards sweep,<br />
+Apple and peach tree fruited deep,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span>Fair as a garden of the Lord<br />
+To the eyes of the famish'd rebel horde,</p>
+
+<p>On that pleasant morn of the early fall<br />
+When Lee march'd over the mountain wall,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p>Over the mountains winding down,<br />
+Horse and foot, into Frederick town.</p>
+
+<p>Forty flags with their silver stars,<br />
+Forty flags with their crimson bars,</p>
+
+<p>Flapp'd in the morning wind: the sun<br />
+Of noon look'd down, and saw not one.</p>
+
+<p>Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,<br />
+Bow'd with her fourscore years and ten;</p>
+
+<p>Bravest of all in Frederick town,<br />
+She took up the flag the men haul'd down;</p>
+
+<p>In her attic-window the staff she set,<br />
+To show that one heart was loyal yet.</p>
+
+<p>Up the street came the rebel tread,<br />
+Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.</p>
+
+<p>Under his slouch'd hat left and right<br />
+He glanced: the old flag met his sight.</p>
+
+<p>"Halt!"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the dust-brown ranks stood fast<br />
+"Fire!"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>out blazed the rifle-blast.</p>
+
+<p>It shiver'd the window, pane and sash;<br />
+It rent the banner with seam and gash.</p>
+
+<p>Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff<br />
+Dame Barbara snatch'd the silken scarf;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span>She lean'd far out on the window-sill,<br />
+And shook it forth with a royal will.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Shoot, if you must, this old grey head,<br />
+But spare your country's flag!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,<br />
+Over the face of the leader came;</p>
+
+<p>The nobler nature within him stirr'd<br />
+To life at that woman's deed and word:</p>
+
+<p>"Who touches a hair of yon grey head,<br />
+Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>All day long through Frederick street<br />
+Sounded the tread of marching feet:</p>
+
+<p>All day long that free flag toss'd<br />
+Over the heads of the rebel host.</p>
+
+<p>Ever its torn folds rose and fell<br />
+On the loyal winds that lov'd it well;</p>
+
+<p>And through the hill-gaps sunset light<br />
+Shone over it with a warm good-night.</p>
+
+<p>Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,<br />
+And the Rebel rides on his raids no more</p>
+
+<p>Honor to her! and let a tear<br />
+Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.</p>
+
+<p>Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,<br />
+Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span>Peace and order and beauty draw<br />
+Round thy symbol of light and law;</p>
+
+<p>And ever the stars above look down<br />
+On thy stars below in Frederick town!</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxvii" id="lxxvii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxvii">LXXVII.</a> CONTENTMENT.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Oliver Wendell Holmes</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1809-</h4>
+
+<h4><i>"Man wants but little here below."</i></h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 380px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Little</span> I ask; my wants are few;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I only wish a hut of stone,</span><br />
+(A <i>very plain</i> brown stone will do,)<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That I may call my own;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+And close at hand is such a one,<br />
+In yonder street that fronts the sun.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Plain food is quite enough for me;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Three courses are as good as ten;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+If Nature can subsist on three,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thank Heaven for three. Amen!</span><br/>
+I always thought cold victual nice;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+My <i>choice</i> would be vanilla-ice.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>I care not much for gold or land;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Give me a mortgage here and there,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Some good bank-stock,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>some note of hand,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or trifling railroad share,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I only ask that Fortune send<br />
+A <i>little</i> more than I shall spend.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span>
+Honors are silly toys, I know,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And titles are but empty names;</span><br />
+I would, <i>perhaps</i>, be Plenipo,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But only near St. James;</span><br />
+I'm very sure I should not care<br />
+To fill our Gubernator's chair.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jewels are baubles; 'tis a sin<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To care for such unfruitful things;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+One good-sized diamond in a pin,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Some, <i>not so large</i>, in rings,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+A ruby, and a pearl, or so,<br />
+Will do for me;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I laugh at show.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+My dame should dress in cheap attire;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">(Good, heavy silks are never dear;)</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I own perhaps I <i>might</i> desire<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Some shawls of true Cashmere,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Some marrowy crapes of China silk,<br />
+Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I would not have the horse I drive<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">So fast that folks must stop and stare;</span><br />
+An easy gait<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>two, forty-five<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Suits me; I do not care,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Perhaps for just a <i>single spurt</i>,<br />
+Some seconds less would do no hurt.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of pictures I should like to own<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Titians and Raphaels three or four,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I love so much their style and tone,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">One Turner, and no more,</span><br />
+(A landscape,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>foreground golden dirt,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+The sunshine painted with a squirt.)</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span>
+Of books but few,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>some fifty score<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">For daily use, and bound for wear;</span><br />
+The rest upon an upper floor;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Some <i>little</i> luxury <i>there</i></span><br />
+Of red morocco's gilded gleam,<br />
+And vellum rich as country cream.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Busts, cameos, gems,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>such things as these,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Which others often show for pride,</span><br />
+<i>I</i> value for their power to please,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And selfish churls deride;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<i>One</i> Stradivarius, I confess,<br />
+<i>Two</i> Meerschaums, I would fain possess.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Shall not carv'd tables serve my turn,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But <i>all</i> must be of buhl?</span><br />
+Give grasping pomp its double share,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+I ask but <i>one</i> recumbent chair.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus humble let me live and die,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Nor long for Midas' golden touch;<br />
+If Heaven more generous gifts deny,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I shall not miss them <i>much</i>,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Too grateful for the blessing lent<br />
+Of simple tastes and mind content.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 340px;">
+<p><i>Flower in the crannied wall,</i><br />
+<i>I pluck you out of the crannies;</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<i>Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,</i><br />
+<i>Little flower</i><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>but if I could understand</i><br />
+<i>What you are, root and all, and all in all,</i><br />
+<i>I should know what God and man is.</i></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 18em;">T</span><span class="smcap">ennyson</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxviii" id="lxxviii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxviii">LXXVIII</a>. THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Right Hon. William Ewart Gladstone</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1809-</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Kin Beyond Sea</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Constitution has not been the offspring of the
+thought of man. The Cabinet, and all the present relations
+of the Constitutional powers in this country, have
+grown into their present dimensions, and settled into
+their present places, not as the fruit of a philosophy, not
+in the effort to give effect to an abstract principle; but
+by the silent action of forces, invisible and insensible, the
+structure has come up into the view of all the world. It
+is, perhaps, the most conspicuous object on the wide
+political horizon; but it has thus risen, without noise,
+like the temple of Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 330px; font-size: smaller">
+<p>"No workman steel, no ponderous hammers rung;<br />
+Like some tall palm the stately fabric sprung."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>When men repeat the proverb which teaches us that
+"marriages are made in heaven," what they mean is that,
+in the most fundamental of all social operations, the
+building up of the family, the issues involved in the
+nuptial contract, lie beyond the best exercise of human
+thought, and the unseen forces of providential government
+make good the defect in our imperfect capacity.
+Even so would it seem to have been in that curious marriage
+of competing influences and powers, which brings
+about the composite harmony of the British Constitution.
+More, it must be admitted, than any other, it leaves open
+doors which lead into blind alleys; for it presumes, more
+boldly than any other, the good sense and good faith of
+those who work it. If, unhappily, these personages meet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span>
+together, on the great arena of a nation's fortunes, as
+jockeys meet upon a racecourse, each to urge to the
+uttermost, as against the others, the power of the animal
+he rides; or as counsel in a court, each to procure the
+victory of his client, without respect to any other interest
+or right: then this boasted Constitution of ours is neither
+more nor less than a heap of absurdities. The undoubted
+competency of each reaches even to the paralysis or destruction
+of the rest. The House of Commons is entitled
+to refuse every shilling of the Supplies. That House,
+and also the House of Lords, is entitled to refuse its
+assent to every Bill presented to it. The Crown is entitled
+to make a thousand Peers to-day, and as many to-morrow:
+it may dissolve all and every Parliament before
+it proceeds to business; may pardon the most atrocious
+crimes; may declare war against all the world; may
+conclude treaties involving unlimited responsibilities, and
+even vast expenditure, without the consent, nay without
+the knowledge, of Parliament, and this not merely in
+support or in development, but in reversal, of policy already
+known to and sanctioned by the nation. But the
+assumption is that the depositaries of power will all respect
+one another; will evince a consciousness that they
+are working in a common interest for a common end;
+that they will be possessed, together with not less than
+an average intelligence, of not less than an average sense
+of equity and of the public interest and rights. When
+these reasonable expectations fail, then, it must be admitted,
+the British Constitution will be in danger.</p>
+
+<p>Apart from such contingencies, the offspring only of
+folly or of crime, this Constitution is peculiarly liable to
+subtle change. Not only in the long-run, as man changes
+between youth and age, but also, like the human body,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>
+with a quotidian life, a periodical recurrence of ebbing
+and flowing tides. Its old particles daily run to waste,
+and give place to new. What is hoped among us is, that
+which has usually been found, that evils will become
+palpable before they have grown to be intolerable....</p>
+
+<p>Meantime, we of this island are not great political
+philosophers; and we contend with an earnest, but disproportioned,
+vehemence about changes which are palpable,
+such as the extension of the suffrage, or the redistribution
+of Parliamentary seats, neglecting wholly other
+processes of change which work beneath the surface, and
+in the dark, but which are even more fertile of great
+organic results. The modern English character reflects
+the English Constitution in this, that it abounds in paradox;
+that it possesses every strength, but holds it tainted
+with every weakness; that it seems alternately both to
+rise above and to fall below the standard of average
+humanity; that there is no allegation of praise or blame
+which, in some one of the aspects of its many-sided
+formation, it does not deserve; that only in the midst of
+much default, and much transgression, the people of this
+United Kingdom either have heretofore established, or
+will hereafter establish, their title to be reckoned among
+the children of men, for the eldest born of an imperial
+race.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 320px;">
+<p><i>It fortifies my soul to know<br />
+That, though I perish, Truth is so:<br />
+That, howsoe'er I stray and range,<br />
+Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change.<br />
+I steadier step when I recall<br />
+That, if I slip Thou dost not fall.</i></p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;">A</span><span class="smcap">rthur Hugh Clough</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxix" id="lxxix"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxix">LXXIX</a>. THE LORD OF BURLEIGH.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lord Tennyson</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1809-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 370px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> her ear he whispers gayly,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">"If my heart by signs can tell,</span><br />
+Maiden, I have watch'd thee daily,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And I think thou lov'st me well."</span><br />
+She replies, in accents fainter,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">"There is none I love like thee."</span><br />
+He is but a landscape-painter,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And a village maiden she.</span><br />
+He to lips, that fondly falter,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Presses his without reproof:</span><br />
+Leads her to the village altar,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And they leave her father's roof.</span><br />
+"I can make no marriage present;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Little can I give my wife.</span><br />
+Love will make our cottage pleasant,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And I love thee more than life."</span><br />
+They by parks and lodges going<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">See the lordly castles stand:</span><br />
+Summer woods, about them blowing,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Made a murmur in the land.</span><br />
+From deep thought himself he rouses<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Says to her that loves him well,</span><br />
+"Let us see these handsome houses<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Where the wealthy nobles dwell."</span><br />
+So she goes by him attended,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Hears him lovingly converse,</span><br />
+Sees whatever fair and splendid<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Lay betwixt his home and hers;</span><br />
+Parks with oak and chestnut shady,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Parks and order'd gardens great,</span><br />
+Ancient homes of lord and lady,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Built for pleasure and for state.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span>All he shows her makes him dearer:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Evermore she seems to gaze</span><br />
+On that cottage growing nearer,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Where they twain will spend their days.</span><br />
+O but she will love him truly!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">He shall have a cheerful home;</span><br />
+She will order all things duly,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">When beneath his roof they come.</span><br />
+Thus her heart rejoices greatly,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Till a gateway she discerns</span><br />
+With armorial bearings stately,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And beneath the gate she turns;</span><br />
+Sees a mansion more majestic<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Than all those she saw before:</span><br />
+Many a gallant gay domestic<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Bows before him at the door.</span><br />
+And they speak in gentle murmur,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">When they answer to his call,</span><br />
+While he treads with footsteps firmer,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Leading on from hall to hall.</span><br />
+And, while now she wonders blindly,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Nor the meaning can divine,</span><br />
+Proudly turns he round and kindly,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">"All of this is mine and thine."</span><br />
+Here he lives in state and bounty,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Lord of Burleigh, fair and free,</span><br />
+Not a lord in all the county<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Is so great a lord as he.</span><br />
+All at once the color flushes<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Her sweet face from brow to chin:</span><br />
+As it were with shame she blushes,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And her spirit changed within.</span><br />
+Then her countenance all over<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Pale again as death did prove;</span><br />
+But he clasp'd her like a lover,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And he cheer'd her soul with love.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span>So she strove against her weakness,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Tho' at times her spirits sank:</span><br />
+Shaped her heart with woman's meekness<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">To all duties of her rank:</span><br />
+And a gentle consort made he,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And her gentle mind was such</span><br />
+That she grew a noble lady,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And the people lov'd her much.</span><br />
+But a trouble weigh'd upon her,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And perplex'd her, night and morn,</span><br />
+With the burden of an honor<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Unto which she was not born.</span><br />
+Faint she grew, and ever fainter,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">As she murmur'd, "O, that he</span><br />
+Were once more that landscape-painter,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Which did win my heart from me!"</span><br />
+So she droop'd and droop'd before him,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Fading slowly from his side:</span><br />
+Three fair children first she bore him,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Then before her time she died.</span><br />
+Weeping, weeping late and early,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Walking up and pacing down,</span><br />
+Deeply mourn'd the Lord of Burleigh,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Burleigh-house by Stamford-town.</span><br />
+And he came to look upon her,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">And he look'd at her and said,</span><br />
+"Bring the dress and put it on her,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">That she wore when she was wed."</span><br />
+Then her people, softly treading,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">Bore to earth her body, drest</span><br />
+In the dress that she was wed in,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em">That her spirit might have rest.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 330px;">
+<p><i>And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,</i><br />
+<i>Am I not richer than of old?</i></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 18em;">W</span><span class="smcap">hittier</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxx" id="lxxx"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxx">LXXX</a>. "BREAK, BREAK, BREAK."</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lord Tennyson</span>.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 360px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Break</span>, break, break,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!</span><br />
+And I would that my tongue could utter<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The thoughts that arise in me.</span></p>
+
+<p>
+O well for the fisherman's boy,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That he shouts with his sister at play!</span><br />
+O well for the sailor lad,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That he sings in his boat on the bay!</span></p>
+
+<p>
+And the stately ships go on<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To their haven under the hill;</span><br />
+But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the sound of a voice that is still!</span></p>
+
+<p>
+Break, break, break,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!</span><br />
+But the tender grace of a day that is dead<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Will never come back to me.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxxi" id="lxxxi"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxxi">LXXXI</a>. THE "REVENGE."</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4>A BALLAD OF THE FLEET, 1591.</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lord Tennyson</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 560px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">At</span> Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,<br />
+And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away:<br />
+"Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!"<br />
+Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "'Fore God I am no coward!<br />
+But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span>
+And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.<br />
+We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?"</p>
+
+<p>
+Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward;<br />
+You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.<br />
+But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.<br />
+I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,<br />
+To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain."</p>
+
+<p>
+So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day,<br />
+Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven;<br />
+But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land<br />
+Very carefully and slow,<br />
+Men of Bideford in Devon,<br />
+And we laid them on the ballast down below;<br />
+For we brought them all aboard,<br />
+And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain,<br />
+To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.</p>
+
+<p>
+He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight,<br />
+And he sail'd away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight,<br />
+With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow.<br />
+"Shall we fight or shall we fly?<br />
+Good Sir Richard, let us know,<br />
+For to fight is but to die!<br />
+There'll be little of us left by the time the sun be set."<br />
+And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good Englishmen.<br />
+Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil,<br />
+For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet."</p>
+
+<p>
+Sir Richard spoke, and he laugh'd, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so<br />
+The little "Revenge" ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,<br />
+With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;<br />
+For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen,<br />
+And the little "Revenge" ran on thro' the long sea-lane between.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span>
+Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">laugh'd,</span><br />
+Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft<br />
+Running on and on, till delay'd<br />
+By their mountain-like "San Philip" that, of fifteen hundred tons,<br />
+And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns,<br />
+Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd.</p>
+
+<p>
+And while now the great "San Philip" hung above us like a cloud<br />
+Whence the thunderbolt will fall<br />
+Long and loud,<br />
+Four galleons drew away<br />
+From the Spanish fleet that day,<br />
+And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay,<br />
+And the battle-thunder broke from them all.</p>
+
+<p>
+But anon the great "San Philip," she bethought herself and went,<br />
+Having that within her womb that had left her ill-content;<br />
+And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">hand,</span><br />
+For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,<br />
+And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears<br />
+When he leaps from the water to the land.</p>
+
+<p>
+And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">summer sea,</span><br />
+But never a moment ceas'd the fight of the one and the fifty-three.<br />
+Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">came,</span><br />
+Ship after ship, the whole night long, with their battle-thunder<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">and flame;</span><br />
+Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">and her shame;</span><br />
+For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">us no more</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span>
+For he said, "Fight on! fight on!"<br />
+Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck;<br />
+And it chanced that, when half of the summer night was gone,<br />
+With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,<br />
+But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead,<br />
+And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head,<br />
+And he said, "Fight on! fight on!"</p>
+
+<p>
+And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">summer sea,</span><br />
+And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;<br />
+But they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">could sting,</span><br />
+So they watch'd what the end would be.<br />
+And we had not fought them in vain,<br />
+But in perilous plight were we,<br />
+Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,<br />
+And half of the rest of us maim'd for life<br />
+In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;<br />
+And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">and cold,</span><br />
+And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">of it spent;</span><br />
+And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;<br />
+But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,<br />
+"We have fought such a fight for a day and a night<br />
+As may never be fought again!<br />
+We have won great glory, my men!<br />
+And a day less or more<br />
+At sea or shore,<br />
+We die<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>does it matter when?<br />
+Sink me the ship, Master Gunner<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>sink her, split her in twain!<br />
+Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"</p>
+
+<p>
+And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply:<br />
+"We have children, we have wives,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span>
+And the Lord hath spared our lives.<br />
+We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;<br />
+We shall live to fight again, and to strike another blow."<br />
+And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.</p>
+
+<p>
+And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,<br />
+Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,<br />
+And they prais'd him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;<br />
+But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:<br />
+"I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;<br />
+I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:<br />
+With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die!"<br />
+And he fell upon their decks, and he died.</p>
+
+<p>
+And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,<br />
+And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap,<br />
+That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;<br />
+Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,<br />
+But they sank his body with honor down into the deep,<br />
+And they mann'd the "Revenge" with a swarthier alien crew,<br />
+And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own;<br />
+When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep,<br />
+And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,<br />
+And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,<br />
+And a wave like the wave that is rais'd by an earthquake grew,<br />
+Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">their flags,</span><br />
+And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">of Spain,</span><br />
+And the little "Revenge" herself went down by the island crags<br />
+To be lost evermore in the main.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><i>There is no land like England, where'er the light of day be;</i><br />
+<i>There are no hearts like English hearts, such hearts of oak as<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">they be.</span></i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="padding-left: 28em;">T</span><span class="smcap">ennyson</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxxii" id="lxxxii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxxii">LXXXII</a>. HERV<ins class="translit" title="E acute">&#201;</ins> RIEL.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Robert Browning</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1812-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 580px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">On</span> the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Did the English fight the French,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>woe to France!<br />
+And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,<br />
+Like a crowd of frighten'd porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,</span><br />
+With the English fleet in view.</p>
+
+<p>'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Close on him fled, great and small,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Twenty-two good ships in all;</span><br />
+And they signall'd to the place<br />
+"Help the winners of a race!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick;</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>or, quicker<br /> <span style="padding-left: 6em;">still,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Here's the English can and will!"</span></p>
+
+<p>Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?"</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">laugh'd they:</span><br />
+"Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarr'd and<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">scored,</span><br />
+Shall the <i>Formidable</i> here with her twelve and eighty guns<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way,</span><br />
+Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And with flow at full beside?</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide.</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Reach the mooring? Rather say,</span><br />
+While rock stands or water runs,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Not a ship will leave the bay!"</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span>
+Then was call'd a council straight.<br />
+Brief and bitter the debate:<br />
+"Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">in tow</span><br />
+All that's left us of the fleet, link'd together stern and bow,<br />
+For a prize to Plymouth Sound?<br />
+Better run the ships aground!"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">(Ended Damfreville his speech.)</span><br />
+Not a minute more to wait!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Let the captains all and each</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach!</span><br />
+France must undergo her fate.</p>
+
+<p>"Give the word!" But no such word<br />
+Was ever spoke or heard;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">For up stood, for out stepp'd, for in struck, amid all these,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+A captain? a lieutenant? a mate,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>first, second, third?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">No such man of mark, and meet</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With his betters to compete!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But a simple Breton sailor press'd by Tourville for the fleet,</span><br />
+A poor coasting-pilot he,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Herv<ins class="translit" title="e acute">&#233;</ins> Riel, the Croisickese.</p>
+
+<p>And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Herv<ins class="translit" title="e acute">&#233;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Riel:</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">or rogues?</span><br />
+Talk to me of rocks and shoals?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>me, who took the soundings,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">tell</span><br />
+On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">'Twixt the offing here and Gr</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>ve where the river<br /> <span style="padding-left: 6em;">disembogues?</span><br />
+Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Morn and eve, night and day,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Have I piloted your bay,</span><br />
+Enter'd free and anchor'd fast at the foot of Solidor.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than</span><br /> <span style="padding-left: 6em;">fifty Hogues!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">there's a way!</span><br />
+Only let me lead the line,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Have the biggest ship to steer,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Get this <i>Formidable</i> clear,</span><br />
+Make the others follow mine,<br />
+And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Right to Solidor past Gr</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>ve,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">And there lay them safe and sound;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And if one ship misbehave,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Keel so much as grate the ground,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Why, I've nothing but my life,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>here's my head!" cries Herv<ins class="translit" title="e acute">&#233;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">Riel.</span></p>
+
+<p>Not a minute more to wait.<br />
+"Steer us in, then, small and great!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">chief.</span><br />
+Captains, give the sailor place!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He is admiral, in brief.</span><br />
+Still the north-wind, by God's grace!<br />
+See the noble fellow's face<br />
+As the big ship, with a bound,<br />
+Clears the entry like a hound,<br />
+Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">profound!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">See, safe through shoal and rock,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">How they follow in a flock!</span><br />
+Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Not a spar that comes to grief!</span><br />
+The peril, see, is past!<br />
+All are harbor'd to the last!<br />
+And just as Herv<ins class="translit" title="e acute">&#233;</ins> Riel hollas "Anchor!"<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>sure as fate<br />
+Up the English come,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>too late!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span>
+So, the storm subsides to calm:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They see the green trees wave</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">On the heights o'erlooking </span>Gr<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>ve.<br />
+Hearts that bled are stanch'd with balm.<br />
+"Just our rapture to enhance,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Let the English rake the bay,</span><br />
+Gnash their teeth and glare askance<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As they cannonade away!</span><br />
+'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!"<br />
+Now hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!<br />
+Out burst all with one accord,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"This is Paradise for Hell!</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Let France, let France's king,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Thank the man that did the thing!"</span><br />
+What a shout, and all one word,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Herv</span><ins class="translit" title="e acute">&#233;</ins> Riel!"<br />
+As he stepp'd in front once more,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Not a symptom of surprise</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In the frank blue Breton eyes,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Just the same man as before.</p>
+
+<p>Then said Damfreville, "My friend,<br />
+I must speak out at the end,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Though I find the speaking hard.</span><br />
+Praise is deeper than the lips;<br />
+You have saved the king his ships,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">You must name your own reward.</span><br />
+'Faith our sun was near eclipse!<br />
+Demand whate'er you will,<br />
+France remains your debtor still.<br />
+Ask to heart's content, and have! or my name's not Damfreville."</p>
+
+<p>Then a beam of fun outbroke<br />
+On the bearded mouth that spoke,<br />
+As the honest heart laugh'd through<br />
+Those frank eyes of Breton blue:<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span>
+"Since I needs must say my say,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Since on board the duty's done,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">run?</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Since 'tis ask and have, I may,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Since the others go ashore,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Come! A good whole holiday!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!"</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That he ask'd and that he got,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>Name and deed alike are lost:<br />
+Not a pillar nor a post<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell;</span><br />
+Not a head in white and black<br />
+On a single fishing smack,<br />
+In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">All that France saved from the fight whence England bore</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 6em;">the bell.</span><br />
+Go to Paris: rank on rank<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Search the heroes flung pell-mell</span><br />
+On the Louvre, face and flank!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">You shall look long enough ere you come to Herv</span><ins class="translit" title="e acute">&#233;</ins> Riel.<br />
+So, for better and for worse,<br />
+Herv<ins class="translit" title="e acute">&#233;</ins> Riel, accept my verse!<br />
+In my verse, Herv<ins class="translit" title="e acute">&#233;</ins> Riel, do thou once more<br />
+Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore!</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 390px;">
+<p><i>The Summum Pulchrum rests in heaven above;</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Do thou, as best thou may'st, thy duty do:</i></span><br />
+<i>Amid the things allow'd thee live and love,</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Some day thou shalt it view.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 12em;">A</span><span class="smcap">rthur Hugh Clough</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxxiii" id="lxxxiii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxxiii">LXXXIII</a>. SONNET.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">President Wilson</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1816-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 460px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Great</span> things were ne'er begotten in an hour;<br />
+Ephemerons in birth, are such in life;<br />
+And he who dareth, in the noble strife<br />
+Of intellects, to cope for real power,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Such as God giveth as His rarest dower<br />
+Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lower<br />
+Till the long shadows of the night arrive,<br />
+Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won,<br />
+Pluck'd from green boughs, soon wither; those that last<br />
+Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noon<br />
+And summer's fiery glare in vain are past.<br />
+Life is the hour of labor; on Earth's breast<br />
+Serene and undisturb'd shall be thy rest.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxxiv" id="lxxxiv"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxxiv">LXXXIV</a>. OUR IDEAL.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">President Wilson</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 320px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Did</span> ever on painter's canvas live<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The power of his fancy's dream?</span><br />
+Did ever poet's pen achieve<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Fruition of his theme?</span><br />
+Did marble ever take the life<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That the sculptor's soul conceiv'd?</span><br />
+Or ambition win in passion's strife<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">What its glowing hopes believ'd?</span><br />
+Did ever racer's eager feet<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Rest as he reach'd the goal,</span><br />
+Finding the prize achiev'd was meet<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To satisfy his soul?</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxxv" id="lxxxv"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxxv">LXXXV</a>. FROM THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Benjamin Jowett</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1817-</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">The Dialogues of Plato</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Not</span> much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return
+for the evil name which you will get from the detractors
+of the city, who will say that you killed Socrates, a wise
+man; for they will call me wise, even although I am not
+wise, when they want to reproach you. If you had waited
+a little while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the
+course of nature. For I am far advanced in years, as you
+may perceive, and not far from death. I am speaking
+now only to those of you who have condemned me to
+death. And I have another thing to say to them: You
+think that I was convicted through deficiency of words<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I
+mean, that if I had thought fit to leave nothing undone,
+nothing unsaid, I might have gained an acquittal. Not
+so; the deficiency which led to my conviction was not
+of words<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>certainly not. But I had not the boldness or
+impudence or inclination to address you as you would
+have liked me to address you, weeping and wailing and
+lamenting, and saying and doing many things which you
+have been accustomed to hear from others, and which,
+as I say, are unworthy of me. But I thought that I
+ought not to do anything common or mean in the hour
+of danger: nor do I now repent of the manner of my
+defense, and I would rather die having spoken after my
+manner, than speak in your manner and live. For neither
+in war nor yet at law ought any man to use every way
+of escaping death. For often in battle there is no doubt
+that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his
+knees before his pursuers, he may escape death; and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span>
+other dangers there are other ways of escaping death, if
+a man is willing to say and do anything. The difficulty,
+my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in avoiding unrighteousness;
+for that runs faster than death. I am old
+and move slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken
+me, and my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster
+runner, who is unrighteousness, has overtaken them. And
+now I depart hence, condemned by you to suffer the
+penalty of death, and they too go their ways, condemned
+by the truth to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong;
+and I must abide by my award<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>let them abide by theirs.
+I suppose that these things may be regarded as fated,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and
+I think that they are well.</p>
+
+<p>And now, O men who have condemned me, I would
+fain prophesy to you; for I am about to die, and that is
+the hour in which men are gifted with prophetic power.
+And I prophesy to you who are my murderers, that immediately
+after my death punishment far heavier than
+you have inflicted on me will surely await you. Me you
+have killed because you wanted to escape the accuser,
+and not to give an account of your lives. But that will
+not be as you suppose: far otherwise. For I say that
+there will be more accusers of you than there are now;
+accusers whom hitherto I have restrained: and as they
+are younger they will be more severe with you, and you
+will be more offended at them. For if you think that by
+killing men you can avoid the accuser censuring your
+lives, you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape
+which is either possible or honorable; the easiest and
+the noblest way is not to be crushing others, but to be
+improving yourselves. This is the prophecy which I
+utter before my departure to the judges who have condemned
+me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span>Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like
+also to talk with you about this thing which has happened,
+while the magistrates are busy, and before I go
+to the place at which I must die. Stay then a while, for
+we may as well talk with one another while there is time.
+You are my friends, and I should like to show you the
+meaning of this event which has happened to me. O my
+judges<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>for you I may truly call judges<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I should like
+to tell you of a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the
+familiar oracle within me has constantly been in the habit
+of opposing me even about trifles, if I was going to make
+a slip or error about anything; and now as you see there
+has come upon me that which may be thought, and is
+generally believed to be, the last and worst evil. But the
+oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I was leaving
+my house and going out in the morning, or when I was
+going up into this court, or while I was speaking, at anything
+which I was going to say; and yet I have often
+been stopped in the middle of a speech, but now in nothing
+I either said or did touching this matter has the
+oracle opposed me. What do I take to be the explanation
+of this? I will tell you. I regard this as a proof
+that what has happened to me is a good, and that those
+of us who think that death is an evil are in error. This
+is a great proof to me of what I am saying, for the customary
+sign would surely have opposed me had I been
+going to evil and not to good.</p>
+
+<p>Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that
+there is great reason to hope that death is a good, for one
+of two things: either death is a state of nothingness and
+utter unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a change
+and migration of the soul from this world to another.
+Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>
+sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed even by
+the sight of dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain.
+For if a person were to select the night in which his sleep
+was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare
+with this the other days and nights of his life, and then
+were to tell us how many days and nights he had passed
+in the course of his life better and more pleasantly than
+this one, I think that any man, I will not say a private
+man, but even the great king will not find many such
+days or nights, when compared with the others. Now if
+death is like this, I say that to die is gain; for eternity
+is then only a single night. But if death is the journey
+to another place, and there, as men say, all the dead are,
+what good, O my friends and judges, can be greater than
+this? If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world
+below, he is delivered from the professors of justice in
+this world, and finds the true judges who are said to give
+judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and, <ins class="translit" title="AE ligature">&#198;</ins>acus,
+and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were righteous
+in their own life, that pilgrimage will be worth
+making. What would not a man give if he might converse
+with Orpheus and Mus<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>us and Hesiod and Homer?
+Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. I, too,
+shall have a wonderful interest in a place where I can
+converse with Palamedes, and Ajax the son of Telamon,
+and other heroes of old, who have suffered death through
+an unjust judgment; and there will be no small pleasure,
+as I think, in comparing my own sufferings with theirs.
+Above all, I shall be able to continue my search into true
+and false knowledge; as in this world, so also in that; I
+shall find out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise,
+and is not. What would not a man give, O judges, to be
+able to examine the leader of the great Trojan expedi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span>tion;
+or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or numberless others,
+men and women too? What infinite delight would there
+be in conversing with them and asking them questions!
+For in that world they do not put a man to death for
+this; certainly not. For besides being happier in that
+world than in this, they will be immortal, if what is said
+is true.</p>
+
+<p>Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death,
+and know this of a truth<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that no evil can happen to a
+good man, either in life or after death. He and his are
+not neglected by the gods; nor has my own approaching
+end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that to
+die and be released was better for me; and therefore the
+oracle gave no sign. For which reason, also, I am not
+angry with my accusers or my condemners; they have
+done me no harm, although neither of them meant to do
+me any good; and for this I may gently blame them.</p>
+
+<p>Still I have a favor to ask of them. When my sons
+are grown up, I would ask you, O my friends, to punish
+them, and I would have you trouble them, as I have
+troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or anything,
+more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be
+something when they are really nothing,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>then reprove
+them, as I have reproved you, for not caring about that
+for which they ought to care, and thinking that they are
+something when they are really nothing. And if you do
+this, I and my sons will have received justice at your
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I
+to die, and you to live. Which is better God only
+knows.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 500px;">
+<p><i>Be of good cheer then, my dear Crito, and say that you
+are burying my body only.</i></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 12em;"><i>Socrates, in the</i> </span><span class="smcap">Ph</span><ins class="translit" title="ae ligature"><span class="smcap">&#230;</span></ins><span class="smcap">do</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Plato</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxxvi" id="lxxxvi"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxxvi">LXXXVI</a>. THE EMPIRE OF THE C<ins class="translit" title="AE ligature">&#198;</ins>SARS.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">James Anthony Froude</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1818-</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature"><span class="smcap">&#230;</span></ins><span class="smcap">sar</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Of</span> C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sar it may be said that he came into the world
+at a special time and for a special object. The old religions
+were dead, from the Pillars of Hercules to the
+Euphrates and the Nile, and the principles on which human
+society had been constructed were dead also. There
+remained of spiritual conviction only the common and
+human sense of justice and morality; and out of this
+sense some ordered system of government had to be constructed,
+under which quiet men could live, and labor, and
+eat the fruit of their industry. Under a rule of this material
+kind there can be no enthusiasm, no chivalry, no
+saintly aspirations, no patriotism of the heroic type. It
+was not to last forever. A new life was about to dawn
+for mankind. Poetry, and faith, and devotion were to
+spring again out of the seeds which were sleeping in the
+heart of humanity. But the life which is to endure
+grows slowly; and as the soil must be prepared before
+the wheat can be sown, so before the Kingdom of Heaven
+could throw up its shoots there was needed a kingdom of
+this world where the nations were neither torn in pieces
+by violence nor were rushing after false ideals and spurious
+ambitions. Such a kingdom was the Empire of the
+C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sars<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a kingdom where peaceful men could work,
+think, and speak as they pleased, and travel freely among
+provinces ruled for the most part by Gallios who protected
+life and property, and forbade fanatics to tear each
+other in pieces for their religious opinions. "It is not
+lawful for us to put any man to death," was the com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span>plaint
+of the Jewish priests to the Roman governor.
+Had Europe and Asia been covered with independent
+nations, each with a local religion represented in its ruling
+powers, Christianity must have been stifled in its
+cradle. If St. Paul had escaped the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem,
+he would have been torn to pieces by the silversmiths
+at Ephesus. The appeal to C<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>sar's judgment-seat
+was the shield of his mission, and alone made possible
+his success.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxxvii" id="lxxxvii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxxvii">LXXXVII</a>. OF THE MYSTERY OF LIFE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1819-</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Sesame and Lilies</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">And</span> now, returning to the broader question what these
+arts and labors of life have to teach us of its mystery,
+this is the first of their lessons<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that the more beautiful
+the art, the more it is essentially the work of people who
+<i>feel themselves wrong</i>;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who are striving for the fulfilment
+of a law, and the grasp of a loveliness, which they
+have not yet attained, which they feel even farther and
+farther from attaining, the more they strive for it. And
+yet, in still deeper sense, it is the work of people who
+know also that they are right. The very sense of inevitable
+error from their purpose marks the perfectness of
+that purpose, and the continued sense of failure arises
+from the continued opening of the eyes more clearly to
+all the sacredest laws of truth.</p>
+
+<p>This is one lesson. The second is a very plain, and
+greatly precious one, namely:<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that whenever the arts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span>
+and labors of life are fulfilled in this spirit of striving
+against misrule, and doing whatever we have to do, honorably
+and perfectly, they invariably bring happiness, as
+much as seems possible to the nature of man. In all other
+paths, by which that happiness is pursued, there is disappointment,
+or destruction: for ambition and for passion
+there is no rest<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>no fruition; the fairest pleasures of youth
+perish in a darkness greater than their past light; and
+the loftiest and purest love too often does but inflame the
+cloud of life with endless fire of pain. But, ascending
+from lowest to highest, through every scale of human industry,
+that industry worthily followed, gives peace. Ask
+the laborer in the field, at the forge, or in the mine; ask
+the patient, delicate-fingered artisan, or the strong-armed,
+fiery-hearted worker in bronze, and in marble, and with
+the colors of light; and none of these, who are true workmen,
+will ever tell you, that they have found the law of
+heaven an unkind one<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that in the sweat of their face
+they should eat bread, till they return to the ground; nor
+that they ever found it an unrewarded obedience, if, indeed,
+it was rendered faithfully to the command<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"Whatsoever
+thy hand findeth to do<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>do it with thy might."</p>
+
+<p>These are the two great and constant lessons which our
+laborers teach us of the mystery of life. But there is another,
+and a sadder one, which they cannot teach us,
+which we must read on their tombstones.</p>
+
+<p>"Do it with thy might." There have been myriads
+upon myriads of human creatures who have obeyed this
+law<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who have put every breath and nerve of their being
+into its toil<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who have devoted every hour, and exhausted
+every faculty<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who have bequeathed their unaccomplished
+thoughts at death<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who being dead, have yet
+spoken, by majesty of memory, and strength of example.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span>
+And, at last, what has all this "Might" of humanity
+accomplished, in six thousand years of labor and sorrow?
+What has it <i>done</i>? Take the three chief occupations and
+arts of men, one by one, and count their achievements.
+Begin with the first<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the lord of them all<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>agriculture. Six
+thousand years have passed since we were set to till the
+ground, from which we were taken. How much of it is
+tilled? How much of that which is, wisely or well? In
+the very centre and chief garden of Europe<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>where the
+two forms of parent Christianity have had their fortresses<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>where
+the noble Catholics of the Forest Cantons, and
+the noble Protestants of the Vaudois valleys, have maintained,
+for dateless ages, their faiths and liberties<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>there
+the unchecked Alpine rivers yet run wild in devastation:
+and the marshes, which a few hundred men could redeem
+with a year's labor, still blast their helpless inhabitants
+into fevered idiotism. That is so, in the centre of Europe!
+While, on the near coast of Africa, once the Garden of the
+Hesperides, an Arab woman, but a few sunsets since, ate
+her child, for famine. And, with all the treasures of the
+East at our feet, we, in our own dominion, could not find
+a few grains of rice, for a people that asked of us no more;
+but stood by, and saw five hundred thousand of them
+perish of hunger.</p>
+
+<p>Then, after agriculture, the art of kings, take the next
+head of human arts<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>weaving; the art of queens, honored
+of all noble Heathen women, in the person of their
+virgin goddess<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>honored of all Hebrew women, by the
+word of their wisest king<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"She layeth her hands to the
+spindle, and her hands hold the distaff; she stretcheth
+out her hand to the poor. She is not afraid of the snow
+for her household, for all her household are clothed with
+scarlet. She maketh herself covering of tapestry, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span>
+clothing is silk and purple. She maketh fine linen, and
+selleth it, and delivereth girdles to the merchant." What
+have we done in all these thousands of years with this
+bright art of Greek maid and Christian matron? Six
+thousand years of weaving, and have we learned to
+weave? Might not every naked wall have been purple
+with tapestry, and every feeble breast fenced with sweet
+colors from the cold? What have we done? Our fingers
+are too few, it seems, to twist together some poor covering
+for our bodies. We set our streams to work for us, and
+choke the air with fire, to turn our spinning-wheels,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>are
+we yet clothed</i>? Are not the streets of the capitals
+of Europe foul with the sale of cast clouts and rotten
+rags? Is not the beauty of your sweet children left in
+wretchedness of disgrace, while, with better honor, nature
+clothes the brood of the bird in its nest, and the suckling
+of the wolf in her den? And does not every winter's
+snow robe what you have not robed, and shroud what
+you have not shrouded; and every winter's wind bear up
+to heaven its wasted souls, to witness against you hereafter,
+by the voice of their Christ,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"I was naked, and
+ye clothed me not"?</p>
+
+<p>Lastly<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>take the Art of Building<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the strongest-proudest<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>most
+orderly<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>most enduring of the arts of
+man, that of which the produce is in the surest manner
+accumulative, and need not perish, or be replaced; but if
+once well done will stand more strongly than the unbalanced
+rocks<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>more prevalently than the crumbling hills.
+The art which is associated with all civic pride and sacred
+principle; with which men record their power<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>satisfy
+their enthusiasm<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>make sure their defence<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>define and
+make dear their habitation. And, in six thousand years
+of building, what have we done? Of the greater part of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span>
+all that skill and strength, <i>no</i> vestige is left, but fallen
+stones, that encumber the fields and impede the streams.
+But from this waste of disorder, and of time, and of rage,
+what <i>is</i> left to us? Constructive and progressive creatures,
+that we are, with ruling brains, and forming hands;
+capable of fellowship, and thirsting for fame, can we not
+contend, in comfort, with the insects of the forest, or, in
+achievement, with the worm of the sea? The white surf
+rages in vain against the ramparts built by poor atoms of
+scarcely nascent life; but only ridges of formless ruin
+mark the places where once dwelt our noblest multitudes.
+The ant and the moth have cells for each of their young, but
+our little ones lie in festering heaps, in homes that consume
+them like graves; and night by night, from the corners
+of our streets, rises up the cry of the homeless<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"I
+was a stranger, and ye took me not in."</p>
+
+<p>Must it be always thus? Is our life forever to be without
+profit<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>without possession? Shall the strength of
+its generations be as barren as death; or cast away their
+labor, as the wild fig-tree casts her untimely figs? Is it
+all a dream then<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the desire of the eyes and the pride
+of life<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>or, if it be, might we not live in nobler dream
+than this? The poets and prophets, the wise men, and
+the scribes, though they have told us nothing about a life
+to come, have told us much about the life that is now.
+They have had<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they also,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>their dreams, and we have
+laughed at them. They have dreamed of mercy, and of
+justice; they have dreamed of peace and good-will; they
+have dreamed of labor undisappointed, and of rest undisturbed;
+they have dreamed of fulness in harvest, and
+overflowing in store; they have dreamed of wisdom in
+council, and of providence in law; of gladness of parents,
+and strength of children, and glory of gray hairs. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span>
+at these visions of theirs we have mocked, and held
+them for idle and vain, unreal and unaccomplishable.
+What have we accomplished with our realities? Is this
+what has come of our worldly wisdom, tried against their
+folly? this our mightiest possible, against their impotent
+ideal? or have we only wandered among the spectra of a
+baser felicity, and chased phantoms of the tombs, instead
+of visions of the Almighty; and walked after the imaginations
+of our evil hearts, instead of after the counsels
+of Eternity, until our lives<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>not in the likeness of the
+cloud of heaven, but of the smoke of hell<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>have become
+"as a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then
+vanisheth away"?</p>
+
+<p><i>Does</i> it vanish then? Are you sure of that?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>sure,
+that the nothingness of the grave will be a rest from this
+troubled nothingness; and that the coiling shadow,
+which disquiets itself in vain, cannot change into the
+smoke of the torment that ascends forever? Will any
+answer that they <i>are</i> sure of it, and that there is no fear,
+nor hope, nor desire, nor labor, whither they go? Be it
+so; will you not, then, make as sure of the Life, that now
+is, as you are of the Death that is to come? Your hearts
+are wholly in this world<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>will you not give them to it
+wisely, as well as perfectly? And see, first of all, that you
+<i>have</i> hearts, and sound hearts, too, to give. Because you
+have no heaven to look for, is that any reason that you
+should remain ignorant of this wonderful and infinite earth,
+which is firmly and instantly given you in possession?
+Although your days are numbered, and the following
+darkness sure, is it necessary that you should share the
+degradation of the brute, because you are condemned to
+its mortality; or live the life of the moth, and of the
+worm, because you are to companion them in the dust?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span>
+Not so; we may have but a few thousands of days to
+spend, perhaps hundreds only<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>perhaps tens; nay, the
+longest of our time and best, looked back on, will be but
+as a moment, as the twinkling of an eye; still, we are
+men, not insects; we are living spirits, not passing clouds.
+"He maketh the winds His messengers; the momentary
+fire, His minister;" and shall we do less than <i>these</i>?
+Let us do the work of men while we bear the form of
+them; and, as we snatch our narrow portion of time out
+of Eternity, snatch also our narrow inheritance of passion
+out of Immortality<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>even though our lives <i>be</i> as a
+vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth
+away.</p>
+
+<p>But there are some of you who believe not this<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who
+think this cloud of life has no such close<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that it is to
+float, revealed and illumined, upon the floor of heaven,
+in the day when He cometh with clouds, and every eye
+shall see Him. Some day, you believe, within these five,
+or ten, or twenty years, for every one of us the judgment
+will be set, and the books opened. If that be true, far
+more than that must be true. Is there but one day of
+judgment? Why, for us every day is a day of judgment<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>every
+day is a Dies Ir<ins class="translit" title="ae ligature">&#230;</ins>, and writes its irrevocable
+verdict in the flame of its West. Think you that judgment
+waits till the doors of the grave are opened? It
+waits at the doors of your houses<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>it waits at the corners
+of your streets; we are in the midst of judgment<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the
+insects that we crush are our judges<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the moments we
+fret away are our judges<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the elements that feed us,
+judge, as they minister<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and the pleasures that deceive
+us, judge as they indulge. Let us, for our lives, do the
+work of Men while we bear the Form of them, if indeed
+those lives are <i>Not</i> as a vapor, and do <i>Not</i> vanish away.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxxviii" id="lxxxviii"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxxviii">LXXXVIII</a>. THE ROBIN.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1819-</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">My Garden Acquaintance</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> return of the robin is commonly announced by
+the newspapers, like that of eminent or notorious people
+to a watering-place, as the first authentic notification of
+spring. And such his appearance in the orchard and
+garden undoubtedly is. But, in spite of his name of
+migratory thrush, he stays with us all winter, and I have
+seen him when the thermometer marked 15 degrees
+below zero of Fahrenheit, armed impregnably within,
+like Emerson's Titmouse, and as cheerful as he. The
+robin has a bad reputation among people who do not
+value themselves less for being fond of cherries. There
+is, I admit, a spice of vulgarity in him, and his song is
+rather of the Bloomfield sort, too largely ballasted with
+prose. His ethics are of the Poor Richard school, and
+the main chance which calls forth all his energy is altogether
+of the belly. He never has those fine intervals of
+lunacy into which his cousins, the catbird and the mavis,
+are apt to fall. But for a' that and twice as muckle 's a'
+that, I would not exchange him for all the cherries that
+ever came out of Asia Minor. With whatever faults, he
+has not wholly forfeited that superiority which belongs
+to the children of nature. He has a finer taste in fruit
+than could be distilled from many successive committees
+of the Horticultural Society, and he eats with a relishing
+gulp not inferior to Dr. Johnson's. He feels and freely
+exercises his right of eminent domain. His is the earliest
+mess of green peas; his all the mulberries I had fancied
+mine. But if he get also the lion's share of the rasp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span>berries,
+he is a great planter, and sows those wild ones in
+the woods, that solace the pedestrian and give a momentary
+calm even to the jaded victims of the White
+Hills. He keeps a strict eye over one's fruit, and knows
+to a shade of purple when your grapes have cooked long
+enough in the sun. During a severe drought a few years
+ago, the robins wholly vanished from my garden. I
+neither saw nor heard one for three weeks. Meanwhile
+a small foreign grape-vine, rather shy of bearing, seemed
+to find the dusty air congenial, and, dreaming perhaps
+of its sweet Argos across the sea, decked itself, with a
+score or so of fair bunches. I watched them from day
+to day till they should have secreted sugar enough from
+the sunbeams, and at last made up my mind that I would
+celebrate my vintage the next morning. But the robins
+too had somehow kept note of them. They must have
+sent out spies, as did the Jews into the promised land,
+before I was stirring. When I went with my basket, at
+least a dozen of these winged vintagers bustled out from
+among the leaves, and alighting on the nearest trees interchanged
+some shrill remarks about me of a derogatory
+nature. They had fairly sacked the vine. Not Wellington's
+veterans made cleaner work of a Spanish town; not
+Federals or Confederates were ever more impartial in
+the confiscation of neutral chickens. I was keeping my
+grapes a secret to surprise the fair Fidele with, but the
+robins made them a profounder secret to her than I had
+meant. The tattered remnant of a single bunch was all
+my harvest-home. How paltry it looked at the bottom
+of my basket,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>as if a humming-bird had laid her egg
+in an eagle's nest! I could not help laughing; and the
+robins seemed to join heartily in the merriment. There
+was a native grape-vine close by, blue with its less refined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span>
+abundance, but my cunning thieves preferred the foreign
+flavor. Could I tax them with want of taste?</p>
+
+<p>The robins are not good solo singers, but their chorus,
+as, like primitive fire-worshippers, they hail the return of
+light and warmth to the world, is unrivalled. There are
+a hundred singing like one. They are noisy enough
+then, and sing, as poets should, with no afterthought.
+But when they come after cherries to the tree near my
+window, they muffle their voices, and their faint <i>pip, pip,
+pop</i>! sounds far away at the bottom of the garden, where
+they know I shall not suspect them of robbing the great
+black-walnut of its bitter-rinded store.<a name="FNanchor_P_53" id="FNanchor_P_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_P_53" class="fnanchor">[P]</a> They are
+feathered Pecksniffs, to be sure, but then how brightly
+their breasts, that look rather shabby in the sunlight,
+shine in a rainy day against the dark green of the fringe-tree!
+After they have pinched and shaken all the life
+out of an earthworm, as Italian cooks pound all the
+spirit out of a steak, and then gulped him, they stand up
+in honest self-confidence, expand their red waistcoats
+with the virtuous air of a lobby member, and outface
+you with an eye that calmly challenges inquiry. "Do <i>I</i>
+look like a bird that knows the flavor of raw vermin? I
+throw myself upon a jury of my peers. Ask any robin
+if he ever ate anything less ascetic than the frugal berry
+of the juniper, and he will answer that his vow forbids
+him." Can such an open bosom cover such depravity?
+Alas, yes! I have no doubt his breast was redder at
+that very moment with the blood of my raspberries. On
+the whole, he is a doubtful friend in the garden. He
+makes his dessert of all kinds of berries, and is not averse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span>
+from early pears. But when we remember how omnivorous
+he is, eating his own weight in an incredibly short
+time, and that Nature seems exhaustless in her invention
+of new insects hostile to vegetation, perhaps we may
+reckon that he does more good than harm. For my own
+part, I would rather have his cheerfulness and kind neighborhood
+than many berries.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_P_53" id="Footnote_P_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_P_53"><span class="label">[P]</span></a> The screech-owl, whose cry, despite his ill name, is one of the sweetest
+sounds in nature, softens his voice in the same way with the most beguiling
+mockery of distance.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Author's Note</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="lxxxix" id="lxxxix"></a><a href="#anchor_lxxxix">LXXXIX</a>. THE OLD CRADLE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Frederick Locker</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1821-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 470px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">And</span> this was your Cradle? Why, surely, my Jenny,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Such cosy dimensions go clearly to show</span><br />
+You were an exceedingly small pickaninny<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago.</span></p>
+
+<p>Your baby-days flow'd in a much-troubled channel;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I see you, as then, in your impotent strife,</span><br />
+A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Perplex'd with the newly-found fardel of Life.</span></p>
+
+<p>To hint at an infantile frailty's a scandal;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Let bygones be bygones, for somebody knows</span><br />
+It was bliss such a Baby to dance and to dandle,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Your cheeks were so dimpled, so rosy your toes.</span></p>
+
+<p>Ay, here is your Cradle; and Hope, a bright spirit,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With Love now is watching beside it, I know.</span><br />
+They guard the wee nest it was yours to inherit<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago.</span></p>
+
+<p>It is Hope gilds the future, Love welcomes it smiling,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Thus wags this old world, therefore stay not to ask,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span>
+"My future bids fair, is my future beguiling?"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">If mask'd, still it pleases</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>then raise not its mask.</p>
+
+<p>Is Life a poor coil some would gladly be doffing?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He is riding post-haste who their wrongs will adjust;</span><br />
+For at most 'tis a footstep from cradle to coffin<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From a spoonful of pap to a mouthful of dust.</span></p>
+
+<p>Then smile as your future is smiling, my Jenny;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I see you, except for those infantine woes,</span><br />
+Little changed since you were but a small pickaninny<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Your cheeks were so dimpled, so rosy your toes!</span></p>
+
+<p>Ay, here is your Cradle, much, much to my liking,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Though nineteen or twenty long winters have sped.</span><br />
+Hark! As I'm talking there's six o'clock striking,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">It is time </span><span class="smcap">Jenny's baby</span> should be in its bed.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xc" id="xc"></a><a href="#anchor_xc">XC</a>. RUGBY CHAPEL.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">November</span>, 1857.</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1822-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 355px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Coldly</span>, sadly descends<br />
+The autumn-evening. The field<br />
+Strewn with its dank yellow drifts<br />
+Of wither'd leaves, and the elms,<br />
+Fade into dimness apace,<br />
+Silent;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>hardly a shout<br />
+From a few boys late at their play!<br />
+The lights come out in the street,<br />
+In the school-room windows<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but cold,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span>
+Solemn, unlighted, austere,<br />
+Through the gathering darkness, arise<br />
+The chapel-walls, in whose bound<br />
+Thou, my father! art laid.</p>
+
+<p>There thou dost lie, in the gloom<br />
+Of the autumn evening. But ah!<br />
+That word, <i>gloom</i>, to my mind<br />
+Brings thee back in the light<br />
+Of thy radiant vigor again:<br />
+In the gloom of November we pass'd<br />
+Days not dark at thy side;<br />
+Seasons impair'd not the ray<br />
+Of thy buoyant cheerfulness clear.<br />
+Such thou wast! and I stand<br />
+In the autumn evening, and think<br />
+Of bygone autumns with thee.</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen years have gone round<br />
+Since thou arosest to tread,<br />
+In the summer-morning, the road<br />
+Of death, at a call unforeseen,<br />
+Sudden. For fifteen years,<br />
+We who till then in thy shade<br />
+Rested as under the boughs<br />
+Of a mighty oak, have endured<br />
+Sunshine and rain as we might,<br />
+Bare, unshaded, alone,<br />
+Lacking the shelter of thee.</p>
+
+<p>O strong soul, by what shore<br />
+Tarriest thou now? For that force,<br />
+Surely, has not been left vain!<br />
+Somewhere, surely, afar,<br />
+In the sounding labor-house vast<br />
+Of being, is practis'd that strength,<br />
+Zealous, beneficent, firm!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span>Yes, in some far-shining sphere,<br />
+Conscious or not of the past,<br />
+Still thou performest the word<br />
+Of the Spirit in whom thou dost live<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Prompt, unwearied, as here!<br />
+Still thou upraisest with zeal<br />
+The humble good from the ground,<br />
+Sternly repressest the bad!<br />
+Still, like a trumpet, dost rouse<br />
+Those who with half-open eyes<br />
+Tread the border-land dim<br />
+'Twixt vice and virtue; reviv'st,<br />
+Succorest!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>this was thy work.<br />
+This was thy life upon earth.</p>
+
+<p>What is the course of the life<br />
+Of mortal men on the earth?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Most men eddy about<br />
+Here and there<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>eat and drink,<br />
+Chatter and love and hate,<br />
+Gather and squander, are rais'd<br />
+Aloft, are hurl'd in the dust,<br />
+Striving blindly, achieving<br />
+Nothing; and then they die<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Perish<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and no one asks<br />
+Who or what they have been,<br />
+More than he asks what waves,<br />
+In the moonlit solitudes mild<br />
+Of the midmost Ocean, have swell'd,<br />
+Foam'd for a moment, and gone.</p>
+
+<p>And there are some, whom a thirst<br />
+Ardent, unquenchable, fires,<br />
+Not with the crowd to be spent,<br />
+Not without aim to go round<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span>
+In an eddy of purposeless dust<br />
+Effort unmeaning and vain.<br />
+Ah yes! some of us strive<br />
+Not without action to die<br />
+Fruitless, but something to snatch<br />
+From dull oblivion, nor all<br />
+Glut the devouring grave!<br />
+We, we have chosen our path<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Path to a clear-purpos'd goal,<br />
+Path of advance!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but it leads<br />
+A long, steep journey, through sunk<br />
+Gorges, o'er mountains in snow.<br />
+Cheerful, with friends, we set forth<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Then, on the height, comes the storm.<br />
+Thunder crashes from rock<br />
+To rock, the cataracts reply;<br />
+Lightnings dazzle our eyes;<br />
+Roaring torrents have breach'd<br />
+The track, the stream-bed descends<br />
+In the place where the wayfarer once<br />
+Planted his footstep<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the spray<br />
+Boils o'er its borders! aloft<br />
+The unseen snow-beds dislodge<br />
+Their hanging ruin!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>alas,<br />
+Havoc is made in our train!<br />
+Friends, who set forth at our side,<br />
+Falter, are lost in the storm.<br />
+We, we only are left!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+With frowning foreheads, with lips<br />
+Sternly compress'd, we strain on<br />
+On<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and at nightfall at last<br />
+Come to the end of our way,<br />
+To the lonely inn 'mid the rocks;<br />
+Where the gaunt and taciturn host<br />
+Stands on the threshold, the wind<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span>
+Shaking his thin white hairs<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Holds his lantern to scan<br />
+Our storm-beat figures, and asks:<br />
+Whom in our party we bring?<br />
+Whom we have left in the snow?</p>
+
+<p>Sadly we answer: We bring<br />
+Only ourselves! we lost<br />
+Sight of the rest in the storm.<br />
+Hardly ourselves we fought through,<br />
+Stripp'd, without friends, as we are.<br />
+Friends, companions, and train,<br />
+The avalanche swept from our side.</p>
+
+<p>But thou would'st not <i>alone</i><br />
+Be saved, my father! <i>alone</i><br />
+Conquer and come to thy goal,<br />
+Leaving the rest in the wild.<br />
+We were weary; and we<br />
+Fearful, and we in our march<br />
+Fain to drop down and to die.<br />
+Still thou turnedst, and still<br />
+Beckonedst the trembler, and still<br />
+Gavest the weary thy hand.<br />
+If, in the paths of the world,<br />
+Stones might have wounded thy feet,<br />
+Toil or dejection have tried<br />
+Thy spirit, of that we saw<br />
+Nothing<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>to us thou wast still<br />
+Cheerful, and helpful, and firm!<br />
+Therefore to thee it was given<br />
+Many to save with thyself;<br />
+And, at the end of thy day,<br />
+O faithful shepherd! to come,<br />
+Bringing thy sheep in thy hand,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span>
+And through thee I believe<br />
+In the noble and great who are gone;<br />
+Pure souls honor'd and blest<br />
+By former ages, who else<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Such, so soulless, so poor,<br />
+Is the race of men whom I see<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Seem'd but a dream of the heart,<br />
+Seem'd but a cry of desire.<br />
+Yes! I believe that there liv'd<br />
+Others like thee in the past,<br />
+Not like the men of the crowd<br />
+Who all round me to-day<br />
+Bluster or cringe, and make life<br />
+Hideous, and arid, and vile;<br />
+But souls temper'd with fire,<br />
+Fervent, heroic, and good,<br />
+Helpers and friends of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>Servants of God!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>or sons<br />
+Shall I not call you? because<br />
+Not as servants ye knew<br />
+Your Father's innermost mind,<br />
+His, who unwillingly sees<br />
+One of his little ones lost<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Yours is the praise, if mankind<br />
+Hath not as yet in its march<br />
+Fainted, and fallen, and died!<br />
+</p><p>
+See! In the rocks of the world<br />
+Marches the host of mankind,<br />
+A feeble, wavering line.<br />
+Where are they tending?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>A God<br />
+Marshall'd them, gave them their goal.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Ah, but the way is so long!</p>
+
+<p>Years they have been in the wild!<br />
+Sore thirst plagues them, the rocks,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span>
+Rising all round, overawe;<br />
+Factions divide them, their host<br />
+Threatens to break, to dissolve.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Ah, keep, keep them combined!<br />
+Else, of the myriads who fill<br />
+That army, not one shall arrive;<br />
+Sole they shall stray; on the rocks<br />
+Batter forever in vain,<br />
+Die one by one in the waste.</p>
+
+<p>Then, in such hour of need<br />
+Of your fainting, dispirited race,<br />
+Ye, like angels, appear,<br />
+Radiant with ardor divine.<br />
+Beacons of hope, ye appear!<br />
+Languor is not in your heart,<br />
+Weakness is not in your word,<br />
+Weariness not on your brow.<br />
+Ye alight in our van! at your voice,<br />
+Panic, despair, flee away.<br />
+Ye move through the ranks, recall<br />
+The stragglers, refresh the outworn,<br />
+Praise, re-inspire the brave.<br />
+Order, courage, return;<br />
+Eyes rekindling, and prayers,<br />
+Follow your steps as ye go.<br />
+Ye fill up the gaps in our files,<br />
+Strengthen the wavering line,<br />
+Stablish, continue our march,<br />
+On, to the bound of the waste,<br />
+On, to the City of God.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 400px;">
+<p><i>What know we greater than the soul?<br />
+On God and Godlike men we build our trust.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 28em;">T</span><span class="smcap">ennyson</span>.</p>
+
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xci" id="xci"></a><a href="#anchor_xci">XCI</a>. IN THE ORILLIA WOODS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Charles Sangster</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1822-</h4>
+
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 500px; line-height: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">
+<p><span class="smcap">My</span> footsteps press where, centuries ago,</p>
+<p>The Red Men fought and conquer'd; lost and won.</p>
+<p>Whole tribes and races, gone like last year's snow,</p>
+<p>Have found the Eternal Hunting-Grounds, and run</p>
+<p>The fiery gauntlet of their active days,</p>
+<p>Till few are left to tell the mournful tale:</p>
+<p>And these inspire us with such wild amaze</p>
+<p>They seem like spectres passing down a vale</p>
+<p>Steep'd in uncertain moonlight, on their way</p>
+<p>Towards some bourn where darkness blinds the day,</p>
+<p>And night is wrapp'd in mystery profound.</p>
+<p>We cannot lift the mantle of the past:</p>
+<p>We seem to wander over hallow'd ground:</p>
+<p><span style="margin-left: -2em;">We scan the trail of Thought, but all is overcast.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 500px; line-height: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">
+<p><span class="smcap">There was a time</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and that is all we know!</p>
+<p>No record lives of their ensanguin'd deeds:</p>
+<p>The past seems palsied with some giant blow,</p>
+<p>And grows the more obscure on what it feeds.</p>
+<p>A rotted fragment of a human leaf;</p>
+<p>A few stray skulls; a heap of human bones!</p>
+<p>These are the records<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the traditions brief<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+<p>'Twere easier far to read the speechless stones.</p>
+<p>The fierce Ojibwas, with tornado force,</p>
+<p>Striking white terror to the hearts of braves!</p>
+<p>The mighty Hurons, rolling on their course,</p>
+<p>Compact and steady as the ocean waves!</p>
+<p>The fiery Iroquois, a warrior host!</p>
+<p><span style="margin-left: -2em;">Who were they?</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Whence?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>And why? no human</p>
+<p><span style="padding-left: 6em;">tongue can boast!</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xcii" id="xcii"></a><a href="#anchor_xcii">XCII</a>. MORALS AND CHARACTER IN THE<br />EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Goldwin Smith</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1823-</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Cowper</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> world into which Cowper came was one very adverse
+to him, and at the same time very much in need of
+him. It was a world from which the spirit of poetry
+seemed to have fled. There could be no stronger proof
+of this than the occupation of the throne of Spenser,
+Shakespeare, and Milton, by the arch-versifier Pope. The
+Revolution of 1688 was glorious, but unlike the Puritan
+Revolution which it followed, and in the political sphere
+partly ratified, it was profoundly prosaic. Spiritual religion,
+the source of Puritan grandeur and of the poetry
+of Milton, was almost extinct; there was not much more
+of it among the Nonconformists, who had now become to
+a great extent mere Whigs, with a decided Unitarian
+tendency. The Church was little better than a political
+force cultivated and manipulated by political leaders for
+their own purposes. The Bishops were either politicians,
+or theological polemics collecting trophies of victory over
+free-thinkers as titles to higher preferment. The inferior
+clergy as a body were far nearer in character to Trulliber
+than to Dr. Primrose; coarse, sordid, neglectful of their
+duties, shamelessly addicted to sinecurism and pluralities,
+fanatics in their Toryism and in attachment to their corporate
+privileges, cold, rationalistic, and almost heathen
+in their preachings, if they preached at all. The society
+of the day is mirrored in the pictures of Hogarth in the
+works of Fielding and Smollett; hard and heartless
+polish was the best of it; and not a little of it was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span>
+<i>Marriage</i> <ins class="translit" title="a grave"><i>&#224;</i></ins> <i>la Mode</i>. Chesterfield, with his soulless culture,
+his court graces, and his fashionable immoralities,
+was about the highest type of an English gentleman;
+but the Wilkeses, Potters, and Sandwiches, whose mania
+for vice culminated in the Hell-fire Club, were more
+numerous than the Chesterfields. Among the country
+squires, for one Allworthy, or Sir Roger de Coverley, there
+were many Westerns. Among the common people
+religion was almost extinct, and assuredly no new morality
+or sentiment, such as Positivists now promise, had
+taken its place. Sometimes the rustic thought for himself,
+and scepticism took formal possession of his mind;
+but as we see from one of Cowper's letters, it was a
+coarse scepticism which desired to be buried with its
+hounds. Ignorance and brutality reigned in the cottage.
+Drunkenness reigned in palace and cottage alike.
+Gambling, cock-fighting, and bull-fighting were the
+amusements of the people. Political life, which, if it
+had been pure and vigorous, might have made up for the
+absence of spiritual influences, was corrupt from the top
+of the scale to the bottom: its effect on national character
+is portrayed in Hogarth's <i>Election</i>. That property
+had its duties as well as its rights, nobody had yet ventured
+to say or think. The duty of a gentleman towards
+his own class was to pay his debts of honor, and
+to fight a duel whenever he was challenged by one of his
+own order; towards the lower class his duty was none.
+Though the forms of government were elective, and Cowper
+gives us a description of the candidate at election
+time obsequiously soliciting votes, society was intensely
+aristocratic, and each rank was divided from that below
+it by a sharp line which precluded brotherhood or sympathy.
+Says the Duchess of Buckingham to Lady Hun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span>tingdon,
+who had asked her to come and hear Whitefield,
+"I thank your ladyship for the information concerning
+the Methodist preachers; their doctrines are most repulsive,
+and strongly tinctured with disrespect towards their
+superiors, in perpetually endeavoring to level all ranks
+and do away with all distinctions. It is monstrous to
+be told you have a heart as sinful as the common wretches
+that crawl on the earth. This is highly offensive and
+insulting; and I cannot but wonder that your ladyship
+should relish any sentiments so much at variance
+with high rank and good breeding. I shall be most
+happy to come and hear your favorite preacher." Her
+Grace's sentiments towards the common wretches that
+crawl on the earth were shared, we may be sure, by her
+Grace's waiting-maid. Of humanity there was as little
+as there was of religion. It was the age of the criminal
+law which hanged men for petty thefts, of life-long imprisonment
+for debt, of the stocks and the pillory, of a
+Temple Bar garnished with the heads of traitors, of the
+unreformed prison system, of the press-gang, of unrestrained
+tyranny and savagery at public schools. That
+the slave trade was iniquitous hardly any one suspected;
+even men who deemed themselves religious took part in
+it without scruple. But a change was at hand, and a still
+mightier change was in prospect. At the time of Cowper's
+birth, John Wesley was twenty-eight, and Whitefield
+was seventeen. With them the revival of religion, was
+at hand. Johnson, the moral reformer, was twenty-two.
+Howard was born, and in less than a generation Wilberforce
+was to come.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 360px;">
+<p><i>That is best blood that hath most iron in 't</i><br />
+<i>To edge resolve with, pouring without stint</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>For what makes manhood dear.</i></span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 10em;">J</span><span class="smcap">ames Russell Lowell</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xciii" id="xciii"></a><a href="#anchor_xciii">XCIII</a>. A LIBERAL EDUCATION.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas Henry Huxley</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1825-</h4>
+
+<h4><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Lay Sermons, Addresses, and Reviews</span>.</h4>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Suppose</span> it were perfectly certain that the life and fortune
+of every one of us would, one day or other, depend
+upon his winning or losing a game at chess. Don't you
+think that we should all consider it to be a primary duty
+to learn at least the names and the moves of the pieces;
+to have a notion of a gambit, and a keen eye for all the
+means of giving and getting out of check? Do you not
+think that we should look with a disapprobation amounting
+to scorn, upon the father who allowed his son, or the
+state which allowed its members, to grow up without
+knowing a pawn from a knight?</p>
+
+<p>Yet it is a very plain and elementary truth, that the
+life, the fortune, and the happiness of every one of us,
+and, more or less, of those who are connected with us, do
+depend upon our knowing something of the rules of a
+game infinitely more difficult and complicated than chess.
+It is a game which has been played for untold ages, every
+man and woman of us being one of the two players in a
+game of his or her own. The chess-board is the world,
+the pieces are the phenomena of the universe, the rules
+of the game are what we call the laws of Nature. The
+player on the other side is hidden from us. We know
+that his play is always fair, just, and patient. But also
+we know, to our cost, that he never overlooks a mistake,
+or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance. To the
+man who plays well, the highest stakes are paid, with that
+sort of overflowing generosity with which the strong
+shows delight in strength. And one who plays ill is
+checkmated<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>without haste, but without remorse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span>My metaphor will remind some of you of the famous
+picture in which Retzsch has depicted Satan playing at
+chess with man for his soul. Substitute for the mocking
+fiend in that picture, a calm, strong angel, who is playing
+for love, as we say, and would rather lose than win<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>and
+I should accept it as an image of human life.</p>
+
+<p>Well, what I mean by Education, is learning the rules
+of this mighty game. In other words, education is the
+instruction of the intellect in the laws of Nature, under
+which name I include not merely things and their forces,
+but men and their ways; and the fashioning of the affections
+and of the will into an earnest and loving desire to
+move in harmony with those laws. For me, education
+means neither more nor less than this. Anything which
+professes to call itself education must be tried by this
+standard, and if it fails to stand the test, I will not call it
+education, whatever may be the force of authority, or of
+numbers, upon the other side.</p>
+
+<p>It is important to remember that, in strictness, there
+is no such thing as an uneducated man. Take an extreme
+case. Suppose that an adult man, in the full
+vigor of his faculties, could be suddenly placed in the
+world, as Adam is said to have been, and then left to do
+as he best might. How long would he be left uneducated?
+Not five minutes. Nature would begin to
+teach him, through the eye, the ear, the touch, the properties
+of objects. Pain and pleasure would be at his
+elbow telling him to do this and avoid that; and by slow
+degrees the man would receive an education, which, if
+narrow, would be thorough, real, and adequate to his
+circumstances, though there would be no extras and very
+few accomplishments.</p>
+
+<p>And if to this solitary man entered a second Adam,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span>
+or, better still, an Eve, a new and greater world, that of
+social and moral phenomena, would be revealed. Joys
+and woes, compared with which all others might seem
+but faint shadows, would spring from the new relations.
+Happiness and sorrow would take the place of the coarser
+monitors, pleasure and pain; but conduct would still be
+shaped by the observation of the natural consequences
+of actions; or, in other words, by the laws of the nature
+of man.</p>
+
+<p>To every one of us the world was once as fresh and
+new as to Adam. And then, long before we were susceptible
+of any other mode of instruction, Nature took
+us in hand, and every minute of waking life brought its
+educational influence, shaping our actions into rough
+accordance with Nature's laws, so that we might not be
+ended untimely by too gross disobedience. Nor should
+I speak of this process of education as past for any one,
+be he as old as he may. For every man, the world is as
+fresh as it was at the first day, and as full of untold
+novelties for him who has the eyes to see them. And
+Nature is still continuing her patient education of us in
+that great university, the universe, of which we are all
+members<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Nature having no Test-Acts.</p>
+
+<p>Those who take honors in Nature's university, who
+learn the laws which govern men and things, and obey
+them, are the really great and successful men in this
+world. The great mass of mankind are the "Poll," who
+pick up just enough to get through without much discredit.
+Those who won't learn at all are plucked; and
+then you can't come up again. Nature's pluck means
+extermination.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the question of compulsory education is settled
+so far as Nature is concerned. Her bill on that question<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span>
+was framed and passed long ago. But, like all compulsory
+legislation, that of Nature is harsh and wasteful
+in its operation. Ignorance is visited as sharply as wilful
+disobedience<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>incapacity meets with the same punishment
+as crime. Nature's discipline is not even a word
+and a blow, and the blow first; but the blow without
+the word. It is left to you to find out why your ears are
+boxed.</p>
+
+<p>The object of what we commonly call education<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>that
+education in which man intervenes and which I shall
+distinguish as artificial education<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>is to make good these
+defects in Nature's methods; to prepare the child to receive
+Nature's education, neither incapably nor ignorantly,
+nor with wilful disobedience; and to understand
+the preliminary symptoms of her displeasure, without
+waiting for the box on the ear. In short, all artificial
+education ought to be an anticipation of natural education.
+And a liberal education is an artificial education,
+which has not only prepared a man to escape the great
+evils of disobedience to natural laws, but has trained him
+to appreciate and to seize upon the rewards which Nature
+scatters with as free a hand as her penalties.</p>
+
+<p>That man, I think, has had a liberal education, who
+has been so trained in youth that his body is the ready
+servant of his will, and does with ease and pleasure all
+the work that, as a mechanism, it is capable of; whose
+intellect is a clear, cold, logic engine, with all its parts
+of equal strength, and in smooth working order; ready,
+like a steam engine, to be turned to any kind of work,
+and spin the gossamers as well as forge the anchors of
+the mind; whose mind is stored with a knowledge of the
+great and fundamental truths of Nature and of the laws
+of her operations; one, who, no stunted ascetic, is full of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span>
+life and fire, but whose passions are trained to come to
+heel by a vigorous will, the servant of a tender conscience;
+who has learned to love all beauty, whether of
+Nature or of art, to hate all vileness, and to respect others
+as himself.</p>
+
+<p>Such an one and no other, I conceive, has had a liberal
+education; for he is, as completely as a man can be, in
+harmony with Nature. He will make the best of her, and
+she of him. They will get on together rarely; she as
+his ever beneficent mother; he as her mouth-piece, her
+conscious self, her minister and interpreter.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xciv" id="xciv"></a><a href="#anchor_xciv">XCIV</a>. TOO LATE.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Dinah Maria Mulock Craik</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1826-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 400px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Could</span> ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In the old likeness that I knew,</span><br />
+I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.</span></p>
+
+<p>Never a scornful word should grieve ye,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.</span></p>
+
+<p>O to call back the days that are not!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">My eyes were blinded, your words were few;</span><br />
+Do you know the truth now up in heaven,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?</span></p>
+
+<p>I never was worthy of you, Douglas,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Not half worthy the like of you;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span>
+Now all men beside seem to me like shadows,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I love <i>you</i>, Douglas, tender and true.</span></p>
+
+<p>Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew,</span><br />
+As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xcv" id="xcv"></a><a href="#anchor_xcv">XCV</a>. AMOR MUNDI.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Christina Georgina Rossetti</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1830-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 580px;">
+<p>"<span class="smcap">O where</span> are you going with your love-locks flowing,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">On the west wind blowing along this valley track?"</span><br />
+"The down-hill path is easy, come with me an it please ye,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">We shall escape the up-hill by never turning back."</span></p>
+
+<p>So they two went together in glowing August weather,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;</span><br />
+And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seem'd to float on<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.</span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?"</span><br />
+"Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">An undecipher'd solemn signal of help or hurt."</span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Their scent comes rich and sickly?" "A scaled and hooded worm."</span><br />
+"Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term."</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span>
+"Turn again, O my sweetest,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>turn again, false and fleetest:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">This beaten way thou beatest, I fear is hell's own track."</span><br />
+"Nay, too steep for hill mounting; nay, too late for cost counting:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">This down-hill path is easy, but there's no turning back."</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xcvi" id="xcvi"></a><a href="#anchor_xcvi">XCVI</a>. TOUJOURS AMOUR.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Edmund Clarence Stedman</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1833-</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 360px; line-height: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Prithee</span> tell me, Dimple-Chin,</p>
+<p>At what age does love begin?</p>
+<p>Your blue eyes have scarcely seen</p>
+<p>Summers three, my fairy queen,</p>
+<p>But a miracle of sweets,</p>
+<p>Soft approaches, sly retreats,</p>
+<p>Show the little archer there,</p>
+<p>Hidden in your pretty hair;</p>
+<p>When didst learn a heart to win?</p>
+<p>Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin!</p>
+<p>"Oh!" the rosy lips reply,</p>
+<p>"I can't tell you if I try.</p>
+<p><span style="margin-left: -2em;">Tis so long I can't remember:</span></p>
+<p>Ask some younger lass than I."</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 360px; line-height: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">
+<p>Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face,</p>
+<p>Do your heart and head keep pace?</p>
+<p>When does hoary Love expire,</p>
+<p>When do frosts put out the fire?</p>
+<p>Can its embers burn below</p>
+<p>All that chill December snow?</p>
+<p>Care you still soft hands to press,</p>
+<p>Bonny heads to smooth and bless?</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span>
+When does Love give up the chase?</p>
+<p>Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face!</p>
+<p>"Ah!" the wise old lips reply,</p>
+<p>"Youth may pass and strength may die;</p>
+<p><span style="margin-left: -2em;">But of Love I can't foretoken:</span></p>
+<p>Ask some older sage than I!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xcvii" id="xcvii"></a><a href="#anchor_xcvii">XCVII</a>. ENGLAND.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas Bailey Aldrich</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1836-</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 440px;">
+<p>While men pay reverence to mighty things,<br />
+They must revere thee, thou blue-cinctured isle<br />
+Of England<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>not to-day, but this long while<br />
+In the front of nations, Mother of great kings,<br />
+Soldiers, and poets. Round thee the Sea flings<br />
+His steel-bright arm, and shields thee from the guile<br />
+And hurt of France. Secure, with august smile,<br />
+Thou sittest, and the East its tribute brings.<br />
+Some say thy old-time power is on the wane,<br />
+Thy moon of grandeur fill'd, contracts at length<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+They see it darkening down from less to less.<br />
+Let but a hostile hand make threat again,<br />
+And they shall see thee in thy ancient strength,<br />
+Each iron sinew quivering, lioness!</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 400px;">
+<p><i>Such kings of shreds have woo'd and won her,</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Such crafty knaves her laurel own'd,</i></span><br />
+<i>It has become almost an honor</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Not to be crown'd.</i></span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 10em;">T</span><span class="smcap">homas Bailey Aldrich</span>.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 16em;"><i>On Popularity.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xcviii" id="xcviii"></a><a href="#anchor_xcviii">XCVIII</a>. ROCOCO.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Thomas Bailey Aldrich</span>.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 360px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">By</span> studying my lady's eyes<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I've grown so learn</span><ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d day by day,<br />
+So Machiavelian in this wise,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That when I send her flowers, I say</span></p>
+
+<p>To each small flower (no matter what,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Geranium, pink, or tuberose,</span><br />
+Syringa, or forget-me-not,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or violet) before it goes:</span></p>
+
+<p>"Be not triumphant, little flower,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">When on her haughty heart you lie,</span><br />
+But modestly enjoy your hour:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She'll weary of you by-and-by."</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="xcix" id="xcix"></a><a href="#anchor_xcix">XCIX</a>. KINGS OF MEN.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">John Reade</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1837-</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 460px;">
+<p>As hills seem Alps, when veil'd in misty shroud,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Some men seem kings, through mists of ignorance;</span><br />
+Must we have darkness, then, and cloud on cloud,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To give our hills and pigmy kings a chance?</span><br />
+Must we conspire to curse the humbling light,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Lest some one, at whose feet our fathers bow'd,</span><br />
+Should suddenly appear, full length, in sight,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Scaring to laughter the adoring crowd?</span><br />
+Oh, no! God send us light!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Who loses then?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The king of slaves and not the king of men.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span>
+True kings are kings for ever, crown'd of God,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The King of Kings,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>we need not fear for them.<br />
+'Tis only the usurper's diadem<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That shakes at touch of light, revealing fraud.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="c" id="c"></a><a href="#anchor_c">C</a>. THALATTA! THALATTA!</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">John Reade</span>.</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 520px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> my ear is the moan of the pines<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in my heart is the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">song of the sea,</span><br />
+And I feel his salt breath on my face as he showers his kisses<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">on me,</span><br />
+And I hear the wild scream of the gulls, as they answer the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">call of the tide,</span><br />
+And I watch the fair sails as they glisten like gems on the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">breastof a bride.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>From the rock where I stand to the sun is a pathway of<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">sapphire and gold,</span><br />
+Like a waif of those Patmian visions that wrapt the lone<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">seer of old,</span><br />
+And it seems to my soul like an omen that calls me far<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">over the sea</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+But I think of a little white cottage and one that is<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">dearest to me.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>Westward ho! Far away to the East is a cottage that looks<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">to the shore,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Though each drop in the sea were a tear, as it was, I can see<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">it no more;</span><br />
+For the heart of its pride with the flowers of the "Vale of the<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Shadow" reclines,</span><br />
+And<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>hush'd is the song of the sea and hoarse is the moan<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">of the pines.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="ci" id="ci"></a><a href="#anchor_ci">CI</a>. THE FORSAKEN GARDEN.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Algernon Charles Swinburne</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1837-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 540px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">At the sea-down's edge between windward and lee,</span><br />
+Wall'd round with rocks as an inland island,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The ghost of a garden fronts the sea.</span><br />
+A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The steep square slope of the blossomless bed</span><br />
+Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Now lie dead.</span></p>
+
+<p>The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To the low last edge of the long lone land.</span><br />
+If a step should sound or a word be spoken,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand?</span><br />
+So long have the gray bare walks lain guestless,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Through branches and briers if a man make way,</span><br />
+He shall find no life but the sea-wind's, restless<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Night and day.</span></p>
+
+<p>The dense hard passage is blind and stifled,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That crawls by a track none turn to climb</span><br />
+To the strait waste place that the years have rifled<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Of all but the thorns that are touch'd not of time.</span><br />
+The thorns he spares when the rose is taken;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The rocks are left when he wastes the plain.</span><br />
+The wind that wanders, the weeds wind-shaken,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">These remain.</span></p>
+
+<p>Not a flower to be prest of the foot that falls not;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As the heart of a dead man the seed-plots are dry;</span><br />
+From the thicket of thorns whence the nightingale calls not,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Could she call, there were never a rose to reply.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span>
+Over the meadows that blossom and wither<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Rings but the note of sea-bird's song;</span><br />
+Only the sun and the rain come hither<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">All year long.</span></p>
+
+<p>The sun burns sere and the rain dishevels<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">One gaunt bleak blossom of scentless breath.</span><br />
+Only the wind here hovers and revels<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In a round where life seems barren as death.</span><br />
+Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Haply, of lovers none ever will know,</span><br />
+Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Years ago.</span></p>
+
+<p>Heart handfast in heart as they stood, "Look thither,"<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Did he whisper? "Look forth from the flowers to the sea;</span><br />
+For the foam-flowers endure when the rose-blossoms wither,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And men that love lightly may die</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but we?"<br />
+And the same wind sang and the same waves whiten'd,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And or ever the garden's last petals were shed,</span><br />
+In the lips that had whisper'd, the eyes that had lighten'd,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Love was dead.</span></p>
+
+<p>Or they lov'd their life through, and then went whither?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And were one to the end</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>but what end who knows?<br />
+Love deep as the sea as a rose must wither,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As the rose-red seaweed that mocks the rose.</span><br />
+Shall the dead take thought for the dead to love them?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">What love was ever as deep as a grave?</span><br />
+They are loveless now as the grass above them<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Or the wave.</span></p>
+
+<p>All are at one now, roses and lovers,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the sea.</span><br />
+Not a breath of the time that has been hovers<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">In the air now soft with a summer to be.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span>
+Not a breath shall there sweeten the seasons hereafter<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Of the flowers or the lovers that laugh now or weep,</span><br />
+When as they that are free now of weeping and laughter<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">We shall sleep.</span></p>
+
+<p>Here death may deal not again for ever;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Here change may come not till all change end.</span><br />
+From the graves they have made they shall rise up never,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Who have left nought living to ravage and rend.</span><br />
+Earth, stones, and thorns of the wild ground growing,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">When the sun and the rain live, these shall be;</span><br />
+Till a last wind's breath upon all these blowing<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Roll the sea.</span></p>
+
+<p>Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink,</span><br />
+Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink,</span><br />
+Here now in his triumph where all things falter,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Stretch'd out on the spoils that his own hand spread,</span><br />
+As a god self-slain on his own strange altar,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 4em;">Death lies dead.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="cii" id="cii"></a><a href="#anchor_cii">CII</a>. A BALLAD TO QUEEN ELIZABETH OF<br />THE SPANISH ARMADA.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<span class="smcap">Ballade</span>.)</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Austin Dobson</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1840-</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 420px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">King Philip</span> had vaunted his claims;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He had sworn for a year he would sack us;</span><br />
+With an army of heathenish names<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He was coming to fagot and stack us;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Like the thieves of the sea he would track us,</span><br />
+And shatter our ships on the main;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But we had bold Neptune to back us,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+And where are the galleons of Spain?</p>
+
+<p>His carackes were christen'd of dames<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To the kirtles whereof he would tack us;</span><br />
+With his saints and his gilded stern-frames,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He had thought like an egg-shell to crack us;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Now Howard may get to his Flaccus,</span><br />
+And Drake to his Devon again,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And Hawkins bowl rubbers to Bacchus,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+For where are the galleons of Spain?</p>
+
+<p>Let his Majesty hang to St. James<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The axe that he whetted to hack us;</span><br />
+He must play at some lustier games<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Or at sea he can hope to out-thwack us;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To his mines of Peru he would pack us</span><br />
+To tug at his bullet and chain;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Alas! that his Greatness should lack us!</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+But where are the galleons of Spain?</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">E</span><span class="smcap">nvoy</span>.</p>
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">G</span><span class="smcap">loriana</span>!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the Don may attack us<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Whenever his stomach be fain;</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">He must reach us before he can rack us, ...</span><br />
+And where are the galleons of Spain?</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 400px;">
+<p><i>He lives not best who dreads the coming pain</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>And shunneth each delight desirable:</i></span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Flee thou extremes</span>, <i>this word alone is plain,</i><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Of all that God hath given to Man to spell!</i></span></p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 6em;">A</span><span class="smcap">ndrew Lang</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1844.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 8em;"><i>From Sonnets from the Antique.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="ciii" id="ciii"></a><a href="#anchor_ciii">CIII</a>. CIRCE.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<span class="smcap">Triolet</span>.)</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Austin Dobson</span>.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 270px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the School of Coquettes<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Madame Rose is a scholar:</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+O, they fish with all nets<br />
+In the School of Coquettes!<br />
+When her brooch she forgets<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">'Tis to show her new collar;</span><br />
+In the School of Coquettes<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Madame Rose is a scholar!</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="civ" id="civ"></a><a href="#anchor_civ">CIV</a>. SCENES FROM "TECUMSEH."<a name="FNanchor_Q_54" id="FNanchor_Q_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_Q_54" class="fnanchor">[Q]</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Charles Mair</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1840-</h4>
+
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><span class="smcap">Tecumseh's</span> <i>Cabin</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Iena</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Iena.</i> 'Tis night, and Mamatee is absent still!<br />
+Why should this sorrow weigh upon my heart,<br />
+And other lonely things on earth have rest?<br />
+Oh, could I be with them! The lily shone<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span>
+All day upon the stream, and now it sleeps<br />
+Under the wave in peace<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>in cradle soft<br />
+Which sorrow soon may fashion for my grave.<br />
+Ye shadows which do creep into my thoughts<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Ye curtains of despair! what is my fault,<br />
+That ye should hide the happy earth from me?<br />
+Once I had joy of it, when tender Spring,<br />
+Mother of beauty, hid me in her leaves;<br />
+When Summer led me by the shores of song,<br />
+And forests and far-sounding cataracts<br />
+Melted my soul with music. I have heard<br />
+The rough chill harpings of dismantled woods,<br />
+When Fall had stripp'd them, and have felt a joy<br />
+Deeper than ear could lend unto the heart;<br />
+And when the Winter from his mountains wild<br />
+Look'd down on death, and, in the frosty sky,<br />
+The very stars seem'd hung with icicles,<br />
+Then came a sense of beauty calm and cold,<br />
+That wean'd me from myself, yet knit me still<br />
+With kindred bonds to Nature. All is past,<br />
+And he<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>who won from me such love for him,<br />
+And he<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>my valiant uncle and my friend,<br />
+Comes not to lift the cloud that drapes my soul,<br />
+And shield me from the fiendish Prophet's power.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Mamatee</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Give me his answer in his very words!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mamatee.</i> There is a black storm raging in his mind<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+His eye darts lightning like the angry cloud<br />
+Which hangs in woven darkness o'er the earth.<br />
+Brief is his answer<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>you must go to him.<br />
+The Long-Knife's camp-fires gleam among the oaks<br />
+Which dot yon western hill. A thousand men<br />
+Are sleeping there cajoled to fatal dreams<br />
+By promises the Prophet breaks to-night.<br />
+Hark! 'tis the war-song.</p>
+
+<p><i>Iena.</i><span style="padding-left: 9em;">Dares the Prophet now</span><br />
+Betray Tecumseh's trust, and break his faith?<br />
+<br />
+<i>Mamatee.</i> He dares do anything will feed ambition.<br />
+His dancing braves are frenzied by his tongue,<br />
+Which prophesies revenge and victory.<br />
+Before the break of day he will surprise<br />
+The Long-Knife's camp, and hang our people's fate<br />
+Upon a single onset.</p>
+
+<p><i>Iena.</i><span style="padding-left: 8em;">Should he fail?</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Mamatee.</i> Then all will fail;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Tecumseh's scheme will fail.<a name="FNanchor_R_55" id="FNanchor_R_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_R_55" class="fnanchor">[R]</a></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span>
+<i>Iena.</i> It shall not! Let us go to him at once!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mamatee.</i> And risk your life?</p>
+
+<p><i>Iena.</i><span style="padding-left: 12em;">Risk hovers everywhere</span><br />
+When night and man combine for darksome deeds.<br />
+I'll go to him, and argue on my knees<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Yea, yield my hand<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>would I could give my heart<br />
+To stay his purpose and this act of ruin.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mamatee.</i> He is not in the mood for argument.<br />
+Rash girl! they die who would oppose him now.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Iena.</i> Such death were sweet as life<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>I go! But, first<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Great Spirit! I commit my soul to Thee.<span style="padding-left: 8em;">    [<i>Kneels.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>An open space in the forest near the Prophet's Town.
+A fire of billets burning. War-cries are heard from the town.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Prophet</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i> My spells do work apace! Shout yourselves hoarse,<br />
+Ye howling ministers by whom I climb!<br />
+For this I've wrought until my weary tongue,<br />
+Blister'd with incantation, flags in speech,<br />
+And half declines its office. Every brave<br />
+Inflamed by charms and oracles, is now<br />
+A vengeful serpent, who will glide ere morn<br />
+To sting the Long-Knife's sleeping camp to death.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span>
+Why should I hesitate? My promises!<br />
+My duty to Tecumseh! What are these<br />
+Compared with duty here? Where I perceive<br />
+A near advantage, there my duty lies;<br />
+Consideration strong which overweighs<br />
+All other reason. Here is Harrison<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Trepann'd to dangerous lodgment for the night<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Each deep ravine which grooves the prairie's breast<br />
+A channel of approach; each winding creek<br />
+A screen for creeping death. Revenge is sick<br />
+To think of such advantage flung aside.<br />
+For what? To let Tecumseh's greatness grow,<br />
+Who gathers his rich harvest of renown<br />
+Out of the very fields that I have sown!<br />
+By Manitou, I will endure no more!<br />
+Nor, in the rising flood of our affairs,<br />
+Fish like an osprey for this eagle longer.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">But, soft!</span><br />
+It is the midnight hour when comes<br />
+Tarhay to claim his bride. [<i>Calls.</i>] Tarhay! Tarhay!</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Tarhay</span> <i>with several braves.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Tarhay.</i> Tarhay is here!</p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i><span style="padding-left: 7em;">The Long-Knives die to-night.</span><br />
+The spirits which do minister to me<br />
+Have breathed this utterance within my ear.<br />
+You know my sacred office cuts me off<br />
+From the immediate leadership in fight.<br />
+My nobler work is in the spirit-world,<br />
+And thence come promises which make us strong.<br />
+Near to the foe I'll keep the Magic Bowl,<br />
+Whilst you, Tarhay, shall lead our warriors on.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tarhay.</i> I'll lead them; they are wild with eagerness.<br />
+But fill my cold and empty cabin first<br />
+With light and heat! You know I love your niece,<br />
+And have the promise of her hand to-night.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span>
+<i>Prophet.</i> She shall be yours!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">[<i>To the braves.</i>] Go bring her here at once</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+But, look! Fulfilment of my promise comes<br />
+In her own person.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Iena</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mamatee</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 19em;">Welcome, my sweet niece!</span><br />
+You have forstall'd my message by these braves,<br />
+And come unbidden to your wedding-place.</p>
+
+<p><i>Iena.</i> Uncle! you know my heart is far away<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i> But still your hand is here! this little hand!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 18em;">[<i>Pulling her forward.</i></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Iena.</i> Dare you enforce a weak and helpless girl,<br />
+Who thought to move you by her misery?<br />
+Stand back! I have a message for you too.<br />
+What means the war-like song, the dance of braves,<br />
+And bustle in our town?</p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i><span style="padding-left: 8em;">It means that we</span><br />
+Attack the foe to-night.</p>
+
+<p><i>Iena.</i><span style="padding-left: 9em;">And risk our all?</span><br />
+O that Tecumseh knew! his soul would rush<br />
+In arms to intercept you. What! break faith,<br />
+And on the hazard of a doubtful strife,<br />
+Stake his great enterprise and all our lives!<br />
+The dying curses of a ruin'd race<br />
+Will wither up your wicked heart for this!</p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i> False girl! your heart is with our foes;<br />
+Your hand I mean to turn to better use.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Iena.</i> Oh, could it turn you from your mad intent<br />
+How freely would I give it! Drop this scheme,<br />
+Dismiss your frenzied warriors to their beds;<br />
+And, if contented with my hand, Tarhay<br />
+Can have it here.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tarhay.</i><span style="padding-left: 5em;">I love you, Iena!</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Iena.</i> Then must you love what I do! Love our race!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span>
+'Tis this love nerves Tecumseh to unite<br />
+Its scatter'd tribes<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>his fruit of noble toil,<br />
+Which you would snatch unripen'd from his hand,<br />
+And feed to sour ambition. Touch it not<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Oh, touch it not, Tarhay! and though my heart<br />
+Breaks for it, I am yours.</p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i><span style="padding-left: 8em;">His anyway,</span><br />
+Or I am not the Prophet!</p>
+
+<p><i>Tarhay.</i><span style="padding-left: 8.5em;">For my part</span><br />
+I have no leaning to this rash attempt,<br />
+Since Iena consents to be my wife.</p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i> Shall I be thwarted by a yearning fool!<span style="padding-left: 2em;">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br />
+This soft, sleek girl, to outward seeming good,<br />
+I know to be a very fiend beneath<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Whose sly affections centre on herself,<br />
+And feed the gliding snake within her heart.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Tarhay.</i> I cannot think her so<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p><i>Mamatee.</i><span style="padding-left: 11em;">She is not so!</span><br />
+There is the snake that creeps among our race;<br />
+Whose venom'd fangs would bile into our lives,<br />
+And poison all our hopes.</p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i><span style="padding-left: 9em;">She is the head</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+The very neck of danger to me here,<br />
+Which I must break at once! [<i>Aside.</i>] Tarhay<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>attend!<br />
+I can see dreadful visions in the air;<br />
+I can dream awful dreams of life and fate;<br />
+I can bring darkness on the heavy earth;<br />
+I can fetch shadows from our fathers' graves,<br />
+And spectres from the sepulchres of hell.<br />
+Who dares dispute with me, disputes with death!<br />
+Dost hear, Tarhay?</p>
+
+<p class="center">[<span class="smcap">Tarhay</span> <i>and braves cower before the</i> <span class="smcap">Prophet</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tarhay.</i><span style="padding-left: 6em;">I hear, and will obey.</span><br />
+Spare me! Spare me!</p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i><span style="padding-left: 5.5em;">As for this foolish girl,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span>
+The hand she offers you on one condition,<br />
+I give to you upon a better one;<br />
+And, since she has no mind to give her heart<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Which, rest assured, is in her body still<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+There,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>take it at my hands!<br />
+[<i>Flings</i> <span class="smcap">Iena</span> <i>violently towards</i> <span class="smcap">Tarhay</span>, <i>into whose arms she<br />
+falls fainting, and is then borne away by</i> <span class="smcap">Mamatee</span>.<br />
+[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Tarhay.</span>] Go bring the braves to view the Mystic Torch<br />
+And belt of Sacred Beans grown from my flesh<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+One touch of it makes them invulnerable<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Then creep, like stealthy panthers, on the foe!</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>Morning. The field of Tippecanoe after the battle.
+The ground strewn with dead soldiers and warriors.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Harrison</span>, <i>officers and soldiers, and</i> <span class="smcap">Barron</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Harrison.</i> A costly triumph reckon'd by our slain!<br />
+Look how some lie still clench'd with savages<br />
+In all-embracing death, their bloody hands<br />
+Glued in each other's hair! Make burial straight<br />
+Of all alike in deep and common graves:<br />
+Their quarrel now is ended.</p>
+
+<p><i>1st Officer.</i><span style="padding-left: 8em;">I have heard</span><br />
+The red man fears our steel<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>'twas not so here;<br />
+From the first shots, which drove our pickets in,<br />
+Till daylight dawn'd, they rush'd upon our lines,<br />
+And flung themselves upon our bayonet points<br />
+In frenzied recklessness of bravery.</p>
+
+<p><i>Barron.</i> They trusted in the Prophet's rites and spells,<br />
+Which promis'd them immunity from death.<br />
+All night he sat on yon safe eminence,<br />
+Howling his songs of war and mystery,<br />
+Then fled, at dawn, in fear of his own braves.</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 20em;"><i>Enter an</i></span> <span class="smcap">Aide</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Harrison.</i> What tidings bring you from the Prophet's Town?<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span>
+<i>Aide.</i> The wretched women with their children fly<br />
+To distant forests for concealment. In<br />
+Their village is no living thing save mice<br />
+Which scamper'd as we oped each cabin door.<br />
+Their pots still simmer'd on the vacant hearths,<br />
+Standing in dusty silence and desertion.<br />
+Naught else we saw, save that their granaries<br />
+Were cramm'd with needful corn.</p>
+
+<p><i>Harrison.</i><span style="padding-left: 12em;">Go bring it all</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Then burn their village down! <span style="padding-left: 4em;">[<i>Exit</i></span> <span class="smcap">Aide</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>2nd Officer.</i><span style="padding-left: 9em;">This victory</span><br />
+Will shake Tecumseh's project to the base.<br />
+Were I the Prophet I should drown myself<br />
+Rather than meet him.</p>
+
+<p><i>Barron.</i> <span style="padding-left: 7em;">We have news of him</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Our scouts report him near in heavy force.</p>
+
+<p><i>Harrison.</i> 'Twill melt, or draw across the British line,<br />
+And wait for war. But double the night watch,<br />
+Lest he should strike, and give an instant care<br />
+To all our wounded men: to-morrow's sun<br />
+Must light us on our backward march for home.<br />
+Thence Rumor's tongue will spread so proud a story<br />
+New England will grow envious of our glory;<br />
+And, greedy for renown so long abhorr'd,<br />
+Will on old England draw the tardy sword!</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>The Ruins of the Prophet's Town.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Prophet</span>, <i>who gloomily surveys the place.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i> Our people scatter'd, and our town in ashes!<br />
+To think these hands could work such madness here<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+This envious head devise this misery!<br />
+Tecumseh, had not my ambition drawn<br />
+Such sharp and fell destruction on our race<br />
+You might have smiled at me! for I have match'd<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span>
+My cunning 'gainst your wisdom, and have dragg'd<br />
+Myself and all into a sea of ruin.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Tecumseh</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tecumseh.</i> Devil! I have discover'd you at last!<br />
+You sum of treacheries, whose wolfish fangs<br />
+Have torn our people's flesh<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>you shall not live!</p>
+
+<p><span style="padding-left: 4em;">[<i>The</i></span> <span class="smcap">Prophet</span> <i>retreats facing and followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Tecumseh</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i> Nay<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>strike me not! I can explain it all!<br />
+It was a woman touch'd the Magic Bowl,<br />
+And broke the brooding spell.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tecumseh.</i> <span style="padding-left: 9em;">Impostor! Slave!</span><br />
+Why should I spare you?<span style="padding-left: 2em;"> [<i>Lifts his hand as if to strike.</i></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Prophet.</i><span style="padding-left: 8em;"> Stay, stay, touch me not!</span><br />
+One mother bore us in the self-same hour.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tecumseh.</i> Then good and evil came to light together.<br />
+Go to the corn-dance, change your name to villain!<br />
+Away! Your presence tempts my soul to mischief.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 13.5em;">[<i>Exit the</i></span> <span class="smcap">Prophet</span> <i>hastily.</i><br />
+Would that I were a woman, and could weep,<br />
+And slake hot rage with tears! O spiteful fortune,<br />
+To lure me to the limit of my dreams,<br />
+Then turn and crowd the ruin of my toil<br />
+Into the narrow compass of a night!<br />
+My brother's deep disgrace<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>myself the scorn<br />
+Of envious harriers and thieves of fame,<br />
+Who fain would rob me of the lawful meed<br />
+Of faithful services and duties done<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Oh, I could bear it all! But to behold<br />
+Our ruin'd people hunted to their graves<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+To see the Long-Knife triumph in their shame<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+This is the burning shaft, the poison'd wound<br />
+That rankles in my soul! But, why despair?<br />
+All is not lost<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>the English are our friends.<br />
+My spirit rises<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>manhood bear me up!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span>
+I'll haste to Malden, join my force to theirs,<br />
+And fall with double fury on our foes.<br />
+Farewell ye plains and forests, but rejoice!<br />
+Ye yet shall echo to Tecumseh's voice.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lefroy</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lefroy.</i> What tidings have you glean'd of Iena?</p>
+
+<p><i>Tecumseh.</i> My brother meant to wed her to Tarhay<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+The chief who led his warriors to ruin;<br />
+But, in the gloom and tumult of the night,<br />
+She fled into the forest all alone.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lefroy.</i> Alone! In the wide forest all alone!<br />
+Angels are with her now, for she is dead.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Tecumseh.</i> You know her to be skilful with the bow.<br />
+'Tis certain she would strike for some great Lake<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Erie or Michigan. At the Detroit<br />
+Are people of our nation, and perchance<br />
+She fled for shelter there. I go at once<br />
+To join the British force. <span style="padding-left: 6em;">[<i>Exit</i></span> <span class="smcap">Tecumseh</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lefroy.</i> <span style="padding-left: 8em;">But yesterday</span><br />
+I climb'd to Heaven upon the shining stairs<br />
+Of love and hope, and here am quite cast down.<br />
+My little flower amidst a weedy world,<br />
+Where art thou now? In deepest forest shade?<br />
+Or onward, where the sumach stands array'd<br />
+In autumn splendor, its alluring form<br />
+Fruited, yet odious with the hidden worm?<br />
+Or, farther, by some still sequester'd lake,<br />
+Loon-haunted, where the sinewy panthers slake<br />
+Their noon-day thirst, and never voice is heard<br />
+Joyous of singing waters, breeze or bird,<br />
+Save their wild wailings.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>[<i>A halloo without.</i>] 'Tis Tecumseh calls!<br />
+Oh Iena! If dead, where'er thou art<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Thy saddest grave will be this ruin'd heart!<span style="padding-left: 2em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div style="text-align: justify;" class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_Q_54" id="Footnote_Q_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Q_54"><span class="label">[Q]</span></a> These scenes are enacted at the "Prophet's Town," an Indian village, situated
+at the junction of the Tippecanoe river with the Wabash, the latter a
+tributary of the Ohio. Tecumseh is gone on a mission to the Southern Indians
+to induce them to unite in a confederation of all the Indian tribes, leaving
+his brother, the Prophet, in charge of the tribes already assembled, having
+strictly enjoined upon him not to quarrel with the Americans, or Long-Knives,
+as the Indians called them, during his absence. General Harrison, Governor
+of Indiana, and commander of the American forces, having learned of Tecumseh's
+plans, marches to attack the Prophet; but the latter, pretending to be
+friendly, sends out some chiefs to meet Harrison. By the advice of these chiefs,
+the Americans encamp on an elevated plateau, near the Prophet's Town,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>"a
+very fitting place," to the mind of Harrison's officers, but to the practised eye
+of Harrison himself, also well fitted for a night attack by the Indians. He,
+therefore, very wisely makes all necessary preparations for defence against any
+sudden attack. Tecumseh has left behind him, under the protection of the
+Prophet, his wife, Mamatee, and his niece, Iena. He is accompanied on his
+mission by Lefroy, an English poet-artist, "enamoured of Indian life, and in
+love with Iena." The Prophet, who is hostile to Lefroy, intends to marry Iena
+to Tarhay, one of his chiefs, but Mamatee has gone to intercede with her
+brother-in-law for Iena, and, if possible, to turn him from his purpose.</p>
+
+<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_R_55" id="Footnote_R_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_R_55"><span class="label">[R]</span></a> Tecumseh had long foreseen that nothing but combination could prevent
+the encroachments of the whites upon the Ohio, and had long been successfully
+endeavoring to bring about a union of the tribes who inhabited its valley. The
+Fort Wayne treaties gave a wider scope to his design, and he now originated his
+great scheme of a federation of the entire red race. In pursuance of this object,
+his exertions, hitherto very arduous, became almost superhuman. He made repeated
+journeys, and visited almost every tribe from the Gulf of Mexico to the
+Great Lakes, and even north of them, and far to the west of the Mississippi.
+In order to further his scheme he took advantage of his brother's growing reputation
+as a prophet, and allowed him to gain a powerful hold upon the superstitious
+minds of his people by his preaching and predictions. The Prophet
+professed to have obtained from the Great Spirit a magic bowl, which possessed
+miraculous qualities; also a mystic torch, presumably from Nanabush, the keeper
+of the sacred fire. He asserted that a certain belt, said to make those invulnerable
+who touched it whilst in his hands, was composed of beans which had
+grown from his flesh; and this belt was circulated far and wide by Indian runners,
+finding its way even to the Red River of the North. These, coupled with
+his oratory and mummeries, greatly enhanced an influence which was possibly
+added to by a gloomy and saturnine countenance, made more forbidding still
+by the loss of an eye. Unfortunately for Tecumseh's enterprise, the Prophet
+was more bent upon personal notoriety than upon the welfare of his people;
+and, whilst professing the latter, indulged his ambition, in Tecumseh's absence,
+by a precipitate attack upon Harrison's force on the Tippecanoe. His defeat
+discredited his assumption of supernatural powers, led to distrust and defection,
+and wrecked Tecumseh's plan of independent action. But the protection
+of his people was Tecumseh's sole ambition; and, true statesman that he was,
+he joined the British at Amherstburg (Fort Malden), in Upper Canada, with a
+large force, and in the summer of 1812 began that series of services to the British
+interest which has made his name a household word in Canada, and endeared
+him to the Canadian heart.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Author's Note</span>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</a></span></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="cv" id="cv"></a><a href="#anchor_cv">CV</a>. THE RETURN OF THE SWALLOWS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Edmund William Gosse</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1849-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 440px;">
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Out</span> in the meadows the young grass springs,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shivering with sap," said the larks, "and we</span><br />
+Shoot into air with our strong young wings<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Spirally up over level and lea;</span><br />
+Come, O Swallows, and fly with us<br />
+Now that horizons are luminous!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Evening and morning the world of light,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Spreading and kindling, is infinite!"</span></p>
+
+<p>Far away, by the sea in the south,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The hills of olive and slopes of fern</span><br />
+Whiten and glow in the sun's long drouth,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Under the heavens that beam and burn;</span><br />
+And all the swallows were gather'd there<br />
+Flitting about in the fragrant air,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And heard no sound from the larks, but flew</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Flashing under the blinding blue.</span></p>
+
+<p>Out of the depths of their soft rich throats<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Languidly fluted the thrushes, and said:</span><br />
+"Musical thought in the mild air floats,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Spring is coming and winter is dead!</span><br />
+Come, O Swallows, and stir the air,<br />
+For the buds are all bursting unaware,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And the drooping eaves and the elm-trees long</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To hear the sound of your low sweet song."</span></p>
+
+<p>Over the roofs of the white Algiers,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Flashingly shadowing the bright bazaar,</span><br />
+Flitted the swallows, and not one hears<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The call of the thrushes from far, from far;</span><br />
+Sigh'd the thrushes; then, all at once,<br />
+Broke out singing the old sweet tones,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</a></span>
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Singing the bridal of sap and shoot,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The tree's slow life between root and fruit.</span></p>
+
+<p>But just when the dingles of April flowers<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shine with the earliest daffodils,</span><br />
+When, before sunrise, the cold clear hours<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Gleam with a promise that noon fulfils,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Deep in the leafage the cuckoo cried,<br />
+Perch'd on a spray by a rivulet-side,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Swallows, O Swallows, come back again</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To swoop and herald the April rain."</span></p>
+
+<p>And something awoke in the slumbering heart<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Of the alien birds in their African air,</span><br />
+And they paused, and alighted, and twitter'd apart,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And met in the broad white dreamy square;</span><br />
+And the sad slave woman, who lifted up<br />
+From the fountain her broad-lipp'd earthen cup,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Said to herself, with a weary sigh,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"To-morrow the swallows will northward fly!"</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="cvi" id="cvi"></a><a href="#anchor_cvi">CVI</a>. DAWN ANGELS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">A. Mary F. Robinson</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1856-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 400px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">All</span> night I watch'd, awake, for morning:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">At last the East grew all aflame,</span><br />
+The birds for welcome sang, or warning,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And with their singing morning came.</span></p>
+
+<p>Along the gold-green heavens drifted<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Pale wandering souls that shun the light,</span><br />
+Whose cloudy pinions, torn and rifted,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Had beat the bars of Heaven all night.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</a></span>
+These cluster'd round the Moon; but higher<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A troop of shining spirits went,</span><br />
+Who were not made of wind or fire,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But some divine dream-element.</span></p>
+
+<p>Some held the Light, while those remaining<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Shook out their harvest-color'd wings,</span><br />
+A faint unusual music raining<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">(Whose sound was Light) on earthly things.</span></p>
+
+<p>They sang, and as a mighty river<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Their voices wash'd the night away:</span><br />
+From East to West ran one white shiver,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And waxen strong their song was Day.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="cvii" id="cvii"></a><a href="#anchor_cvii">CVII</a>. LE ROI EST MORT.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">A. Mary F. Robinson.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 360px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">And</span> shall I weep that Love's no more,<br />
+And magnify his reign?<br />
+Sure never mortal man before<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Would have his grief again.</span><br />
+Farewell the long-continued ache,<br />
+The days a-dream, the nights awake,<br />
+I will rejoice and merry make,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And never more complain.</span><br />
+</p><p>
+King Love is dead and gone for aye,<br />
+Who ruled with might and main,<br />
+For with a bitter word one day,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">I found my tyrant slain,</span><br />
+And he in Heathenesse was bred,<br />
+Nor ever was baptized, 'tis said,<br />
+Nor is of any creed, and dead<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Can never rise again.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="cviii" id="cviii"></a><a href="#anchor_cviii">CVIII</a>. TO WINTER.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Charles G. D. Roberts</span>.<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>1859-</h4>
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 340px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">Ruling</span> with an iron hand<br />
+O'er the intermediate land<br />
+'Twixt the plains of rich completeness,<br />
+And the realms of budding sweetness,<br />
+Winter! from thy crystal throne,<br />
+With a keenness all thy own<br />
+Dartest thou, through gleaming air,<br />
+O'er the glorious barren glare<br />
+Of thy sunlit wildernesses,<br />
+Thine undazzled level glances,<br />
+Where thy minions' silver tresses<br />
+Stream among their icy lances;<br />
+While thy universal breathing,<br />
+Frozen to a radiant swathing<br />
+For the trees, their bareness hides,<br />
+And upon their sunward sides<br />
+Shines and flushes rosily<br />
+To the chill pink morning sky.<br />
+Skilful artists thou employest,<br />
+And in chastest beauty joyest<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Forms most delicate, pure, and clear,<br />
+Frost-caught starbeams fallen sheer<br />
+In the night, and woven here<br />
+In jewel-fretted tapestries.<br />
+But what magic melodies,<br />
+As in the bord'ring realms are throbbing,<br />
+Hast thou, Winter?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>Liquid sobbing<br />
+Brooks, and brawling waterfalls,<br />
+Whose responsive-voic<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d calls<br />
+Clothe with harmony the hills,<br />
+Gurgling meadow-threading rills,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</a></span>
+Lakelets' lisping wavelets lapping<br />
+Round a flock of wild ducks napping,<br />
+And the rapturous-noted wooings,<br />
+And the molten-throated cooings,<br />
+Of the amorous multitudes<br />
+Flashing through the dusky woods,<br />
+When a veering wind hath blown<br />
+A glare of sudden daylight down?<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Naught of these!<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>And fewer notes<br />
+Hath the wind alone that floats<br />
+Over naked trees and snows;<br />
+Half its minstrelsy it owes<br />
+To its orchestra of leaves.<br />
+Ay! weak the meshes music weaves<br />
+For thy snar<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d soul's delight,<br />
+'Less, when thou dost lie at night<br />
+'Neath the star-sown heavens bright,<br />
+To thy sin-unchok<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d ears<br />
+Some dim harmonies may pierce<br />
+From the high-consulting spheres:<br />
+'Less the silent sunrise sing<br />
+Like a vibrant silver string<br />
+When its prison'd splendors first<br />
+O'er the crusted snow-fields burst.<br />
+But thy days the silence keep,<br />
+Save for grosbeaks' feeble cheep,<br />
+Or for snow-birds' busy twitter<br />
+When thy breath is very bitter.</p>
+
+<p>So my spirit often acheth<br />
+For the melodies it lacketh<br />
+'Neath thy sway, or cannot hear<br />
+For its mortal-cloak<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d ear.<br />
+And full thirstily it longeth<br />
+For the beauty that belongeth<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442]</a></span>
+To the Autumn's ripe fulfilling;<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Heap<ins class="translit" title="e grave">&#232;</ins>d orchard-baskets spilling<br />
+'Neath the laughter-shaken trees;<br />
+Fields of buckwheat full of bees,<br />
+Girt with ancient groves of fir<br />
+Shod with berried juniper;<br />
+Beech-nuts mid their russet leaves;<br />
+Heavy-headed nodding sheaves;<br />
+Clumps of luscious blackberries;<br />
+Purple-cluster'd traceries<br />
+Of the cottage climbing-vines;<br />
+Scarlet-fruited eglantines;<br />
+Maple forests all aflame<br />
+When thy sharp-tongued legates came.</p>
+
+<p>Ruler with an iron hand<br />
+O'er an intermediate land!<br />
+Glad am I thy realm is border'd<br />
+By the plains more richly order'd,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Stock'd with sweeter-glowing forms,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Where the prison'd brightness warms<br />
+In lush crimsons through the leaves,<br />
+And a gorgeous legend weaves.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><br /></h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><br /></h1>
+
+<h2><br /><a name="cix" id="cix"></a><a href="#anchor_cix">CIX</a>. ABIGAIL BECKER.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<h4>(<i>Off Long Point Island, Lake Erie, November 24th, 1854.</i>)</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Amanda T. Jones</span>.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="block" style="width: 450px;">
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> wind, the wind where Erie plunged,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Blew, blew nor'-east from land to land;</span><br />
+The wandering schooner dipp'd and lunged,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Long Point was close at hand.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[443]</a></span>
+Long Point<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>a swampy island-slant,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Where, busy in their grassy homes,</span><br />
+Woodcock and snipe the hollows haunt,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And musk-rats build their domes;</span></p>
+
+<p>Where gulls and eagles rest at need,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Where either side, by lake or sound,</span><br />
+Kingfishers, cranes, and divers feed,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And mallard ducks abound.</span></p>
+
+<p>The lowering night shut out the sight:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Careen'd the vessel, pitch'd and veer'd,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+Raved, raved the wind with main and might;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The sunken reef she near'd.</span></p>
+
+<p>She pounded over, lurch'd, and sank;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Between two sand-bars settling fast,</span><br />
+Her leaky hull the waters drank,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And she had sail'd her last.</span></p>
+
+<p>Into the rigging, quick as thought,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Captain and mate and sailors sprung,</span><br />
+Clamber'd for life, some vantage caught,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And there all night they swung.</span></p>
+
+<p>And it was cold<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>oh, it was cold!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The pinching cold was like a vise:</span><br />
+Spoondrift flew freezing,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>fold on fold<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">It coated them with ice.</span></p>
+
+<p>Now when the dawn began to break,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Light up the sand-path drench'd and brown,</span><br />
+To fill her bucket from the lake,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Came Mother Becker down.</span></p>
+
+<p>From where her cabin crown'd the bank<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Came Abigail Becker tall and strong:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</a></span>
+She dipp'd, and lo! a broken plank<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Came rocking close along!</span></p>
+
+<p>She pois'd her glass with anxious ken:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The schooner's top she spied from far,</span><br />
+And there she counted seven men<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">That clung to mast and spar.</span></p>
+
+<p>And oh, the gale! the rout and roar!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The blinding drift, the mounting wave,</span><br />
+A good half-mile from wreck to shore,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">With seven men to save!</span></p>
+
+<p>Sped Mother Becker: "Children! wake!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A ship's gone down! they're needing me!</span><br />
+Your father's off on shore; the lake<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Is just a raging sea!</span></p>
+
+<p>"Get wood, cook fish, make ready all."<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She snatch'd her stores, she fled with haste,</span><br />
+In cotton gown and tatter'd shawl,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Barefoot across the waste,</span></p>
+
+<p>Through sinking sands, through quaggy lands,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And nearer, nearer, full in view,</span><br />
+Went shouting through her hollow'd hands:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Courage! we'll get you through!"</span></p>
+
+<p>Ran to and fro, made cheery signs,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Her bonfire lighted, steeped her tea,</span><br />
+Brought drift-wood, watch'd Canadian lines<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Her husband's boat to see.</span></p>
+
+<p>Cold, cold it was<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>oh, it was cold!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The bitter cold made watching vain:</span><br />
+With ice the channel laboring roll'd,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">No skiff could stand the strain.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</a></span>
+On all that isle, from outer swell<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To strait between the landings shut,</span><br />
+Was never place where man might dwell,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Save trapper Becker's hut.</span></p>
+
+<p>And it was twelve and one and two,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And it was three o'clock and more.</span><br />
+She call'd: "Come on! there's nought to do,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">But leap and swim ashore!"</span></p>
+
+<p>Blew, blew the gale; they did not hear:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She waded in the shallow sea;</span><br />
+She waved her hands, made signals clear,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Swim! swim, and trust to me!"</span></p>
+
+<p>"My men," the captain cried, "I'll try:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The woman's judgment may be right;</span><br />
+For, swim or sink, seven men must die<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">If here we swing to-night."</span></p>
+
+<p>Far out he mark'd the gathering surge;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Across the bar he watch'd it pour,</span><br />
+Let go, and on its topmost verge<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Came riding in to shore.</span></p>
+
+<p>It struck the breaker's foamy track,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Majestic wave on wave uphurl'd,</span><br />
+Went grandly toppling, tumbling back,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">As loath to flood the world.</span></p>
+
+<p>There blindly whirling, shorn of strength,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">The captain drifted, sure to drown;</span><br />
+Dragg'd seaward half a cable's length,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Like sinking lead went down.</span></p>
+
+<p>Ah, well for him that on the strand<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Had Mother Becker waited long!</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</a></span>
+And well for him her grasping hand<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And grappling arm were strong!</span></p>
+
+<p>And well for him that wind and sun,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And daily toil for scanty gains,</span><br />
+Had made such daring blood to run<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Within such generous veins!</span></p>
+
+<p>For what to do but plunge and swim?<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Out on the sinking billow cast,</span><br />
+She toil'd, she dived, she groped for him,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She found and clutch'd him fast.</span></p>
+
+<p>She climb'd the reef, she brought him up,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She laid him gasping on the sands;</span><br />
+Built high the fire and fill'd the cup,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Stood up and waved her hands!</span></p>
+
+<p>Oh, life is dear! The mate leap'd in.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"I know," the captain said, "right well,</span><br />
+Not twice can any woman win<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A soul from yonder hell.</span></p>
+
+<p>"I'll start and meet him in the wave."<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"Keep back!" she bade: "what strength have you?</span><br />
+And I shall have you both to save,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Must work to pull you through!"</span></p>
+
+<p>But out he went. Up shallow sweeps<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Raced the long white-caps, comb on comb:</span><br />
+The wind, the wind that lash'd the deeps,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Far, far it blew the foam.</span></p>
+
+<p>The frozen foam went scudding by,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Before the wind, a seething throng,</span><br />
+The waves, the waves came towering high,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They flung the mate along.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</a></span>
+The waves came towering high and white.<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They burst in clouds of flying spray:</span><br />
+There mate and captain sank from sight,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And, clinching, roll'd away.</span></p>
+
+<p>Oh, Mother Becker, seas are dread,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Their treacherous paths are deep and blind!</span><br />
+But widows twain shall mourn their dead<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">If thou art slow to find.</span></p>
+
+<p>She sought them near, she sought them far,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Three fathoms down she gripp'd them tight;</span><br />
+With both together up the bar<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She stagger'd into sight.</span></p>
+
+<p>Beside the fire her burdens fell:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She paus'd the cheering draught to pour,</span><br />
+Then waved her hands: "All's well! all's well!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Come on! swim! swim ashore!"</span></p>
+
+<p>Sure, life is dear, and men are brave:<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">They came,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins>they dropp'd from mast and spar;<br />
+And who but she could breast the wave,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And dive beyond the bar?</span></p>
+
+<p>Dark grew the sky from east to west,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And darker, darker grew the world:</span><br />
+Each man from off the breaker's crest<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To gloomier deeps was hurl'd.</span></p>
+
+<p>And still the gale went shrieking on,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And still the wrecking fury grew;</span><br />
+And still the woman, worn and wan,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Those gates of Death went through,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins></p>
+
+<p>As Christ were walking on the waves,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And heavenly radiance shone about,</span><ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[448]</a></span>
+All fearless trod that gulf of graves<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And bore the sailors out.</span></p>
+
+<p>Down came the night, but far and bright,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Despite the wind and flying foam,</span><br />
+The bonfire flamed to give them light<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">To trapper Becker's home.</span></p>
+
+<p>Oh, safety after wreck is sweet!<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">And sweet is rest in hut or hall:</span><br />
+One story Life and Death repeat,<ins class="translit" title="em dash">&#8212;</ins><br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">God's mercy over all.</span></p>
+
+<hr class="center" style="width: 45%;" /><br />
+
+<p>Next day men heard, put out from shore,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Cross'd channel-ice, burst in to find</span><br />
+Seven gallant fellows sick and sore,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A tender nurse and kind;</span></p>
+
+<p>Shook hands, wept, laugh'd, were crazy-glad;<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Cried: "Never yet, on land or sea,</span><br />
+Poor dying, drowning sailors had<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">A better friend than she.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Billows may tumble, winds may roar,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">Strong hands the wreck'd from Death may snatch:</span><br />
+But never, never, nevermore<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">This deed shall mortal match!"</span></p>
+
+<p>Dear Mother Becker dropp'd her head,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">She blush'd as girls when lovers woo:</span><br />
+"I have not done a thing," she said,<br />
+<span style="padding-left: 2em;">"More than I ought to do."</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h4>THE END.</h4>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ontario Readers: The High School
+Reader, 1886, by Ministry of Education
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+</body>
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diff --git a/19923.txt b/19923.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..63d9feb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/19923.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,16622 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ontario Readers: The High School
+Reader, 1886, by Ministry of Education
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Ontario Readers: The High School Reader, 1886
+
+Author: Ministry of Education
+
+Release Date: November 27, 2006 [EBook #19923]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONTARIO READERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, Suzanne Lybarger and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+=The Ontario Readers.=
+
+
+THE
+HIGH SCHOOL READER.
+
+
+AUTHORIZED FOR USE IN THE PUBLIC AND HIGH SCHOOLS
+AND COLLEGIATE INSTITUTES OF ONTARIO BY THE
+DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION.
+
+
+Toronto:
+ROSE PUBLISHING COMPANY.
+1886.
+
+
+
+
+_Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year one
+thousand eight hundred and eighty-six, by the_ MINISTER OF EDUCATION
+_for Ontario, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture._
+
+
+PRINTED AND BOUND BY
+HUNTER, ROSE & CO.,
+TORONTO.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The selections in the HIGH SCHOOL READER have been chosen with the
+belief that to pupils of such advancement as is required for entrance
+into High Schools and Collegiate Institutes, oral reading should be
+taught from the best literature, inasmuch as it not only affords a wide
+range of thought and sentiment, but it also demands for its appropriate
+vocal interpretation such powers of sympathy and appreciation as are
+developed only by culture; and it is to impart culture that these
+institutions of higher learning have been established.
+
+Experience has shown that it is from their ordinary reading books that
+pupils obtain their chief practical acquaintance with literature, and
+the selections here presented have been made with this in remembrance.
+They have been taken from the writings of authors of acknowledged
+representative character; and they have been arranged for the most part
+chronologically, so that pupils may unconsciously obtain some little
+insight into the history of the development of the literary art. They
+have also been so chosen as to convey a somewhat fair idea of the
+relative value and productivity of authorship in the three great
+English-speaking communities of the world--the mother countries, our
+neighbours' country, and our own.
+
+While a limited space, if nothing else, prevents the collection here
+made from being a complete anthology, yet it does pretend to represent
+the authors selected in characteristic moods, and (in so far as is
+possible in a school book, and a reading text-book) to present a
+somewhat fair perspective of the world of authorship. It may be said
+that, if this be so, some names are conspicuously absent: McGee,
+Canada's poet-orator; Parkman, who has given to our country a place in
+the portraiture of nations; William Morris, the chief of the modern
+school of romanticism; Tyndall, who of the literature of science has
+made an art; Lamb, daintiest of humorists; Collins, "whose range of
+flight," as Swinburne says, "was the highest of his generation." Either
+from lack of space, or from some inherent unsuitableness in such
+selections as might otherwise have been made, it was found impossible
+to represent these names worthily; but as they are all more or less
+adequately represented in the _Fourth Reader_, the teacher who may wish
+to correct the perspective here presented may refer his pupils to the
+pieces from these authors there given. It may be added, too, that
+the body of recent literature is so enormous, that no adequate
+representation of it (at any rate as regards quantity) is possible
+within the limits of one book.
+
+The selections in poetry, with but three necessary exceptions, are
+complete wholes, and represent, as fairly as single pieces can, the
+respective merits and styles of their authors. The selections in prose
+cannot, of course, lay claim to this excellence; but they are all
+complete in themselves, or have been made so by short introductions; and
+it is hoped that they too are not unfairly representative of their
+authors. In many cases they are of somewhat unusual length; by this,
+however, they gain in interest and in representative character.
+
+In some of the prose selections, passages have occasionally been
+omitted, either because they interfered with the main narrative, or
+because, as they added nothing to it, to omit them would be a gain of
+space. In most cases these omissions are indicated by small asterisks.
+
+All the selections, both in prose and in verse, have been made with
+constant reference to their suitableness for the teaching of reading.
+They are fitted to exemplify every mode of expression, except, perhaps,
+that appropriate to a few of the stronger passions. It is not pretended
+that they are all simple and easy. Many of them will require much
+study and preparation before they can be read with that precision of
+expression which is necessary to perfect intelligibility. The
+chronological arrangement precludes grading; the teacher will decide
+in what order the selections are to be read.
+
+The introductory chapter is mainly intended to assist the teacher in
+imparting to his pupils a somewhat scientific knowledge of the art of
+reading. Of course the teacher will choose for himself his mode of
+dealing with the chapter, but it has been written with the thought that
+he should use it as a convenient series of texts, which he might expand
+and illustrate in accordance with his opportunities and judgment.
+Examples for illustration are indispensable to the successful study of
+the principles described, and they should be sought for and obtained by
+the teacher and pupils together (whenever possible they should be taken
+from the READER), and should be kept labeled for reference and practice.
+If the application of these principles be thus practically made by the
+pupils themselves, they will receive a much more lasting impression of
+their meaning and value than if the examples were given to them at no
+cost of thought or search on their part.
+
+To the teacher it is recommended that he should not be contented with
+the short and necessarily imperfect exposition of the art of reading
+therein given. The more familiar he is with the scientific principles
+the more successfully will he be able to direct the studies and
+practices of his pupils. Works on elocution are numerous and accessible.
+Dr. Rush's _Philosophy of the Voice_ is perhaps the foundation of all
+subsequent good work in the exposition of voice culture. Professor
+Murdoch's _Analytic Elocution_ is an exhaustive and scholarly treatise
+based upon it, and to the plan of treatment therein fully developed the
+practical part of the introductory chapter has largely conformed.
+
+The pleasing task remains of thanking those authors who have so kindly
+responded to requests for permission to use selections from their works:
+to President Wilson, for a sonnet from _Spring Wild Roses_, and for _Our
+Ideal_; to Mr. Charles Sangster, for two sonnets from _Hesperus_; to Mr.
+John Reade, for two poems from _The Prophecy of Merlin_; to Mr. Charles
+Mair, for the scenes from _Tecumseh_; and to Professor C. G. D. Roberts,
+for _To Winter_.
+
+To Miss A. T. Jones, thanks are due for permission to use _Abigail
+Becker_, recently published in the _Century Magazine_. The heroic acts
+described in this poem seem so wonderful, so greatly superior to woman's
+strength, even to human strength and endurance, to accomplish, that were
+it possible to doubt its truthfulness, doubt one certainly would.
+Nevertheless the poem is not only strictly in accordance with the facts,
+it is even within and below them.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+_(The Titles of the Selections in Poetry are printed in Italics.)_
+
+
+  NUMBER.                   TITLE.                       AUTHOR.     PAGE.
+
+       I. King Solomon's Prayer and Blessing at the
+          Dedication of the Temple.                    HOLY BIBLE      33
+
+      II. Invitation.                                  HOLY BIBLE      39
+
+     III. _The Trial Scene in the "Merchant of
+          Venice."_                                    SHAKESPEARE     40
+
+      IV. Of Boldness.                                 BACON           53
+
+       V. _To Daffodils._                              HERRICK         55
+
+      VI. Of Contentedness in all Estates and
+          Accidents.                                   TAYLOR          56
+
+     VII. _To Lucasta, on Going to the Wars._          LOVELACE        61
+
+    VIII. Angling.                                     WALTON          62
+
+      IX. _On the Morning of Christ's Nativity._       MILTON          67
+
+       X. Character of Lord Falkland.                  CLARENDON       76
+
+      XI. _Veni, Creator Spiritus._                    DRYDEN          81
+
+     XII. _Lines printed under the Portrait of
+          Milton._                                     DRYDEN          82
+
+    XIII. _Reason_                                     DRYDEN          83
+
+     XIV. On the Love of Country as a Principle of
+          Action.                                      STEELE          83
+
+      XV. The Golden Scales.                           ADDISON         88
+
+     XVI. Misjudged Hospitality.                       SWIFT           93
+
+    XVII. _From the "Essay on Man."_                   POPE            96
+
+   XVIII. _Rule, Britannia._                           THOMSON        101
+
+     XIX. The First Crusade.                           HUME           102
+
+      XX. _The Bard._                                  GRAY           111
+
+     XXI. On an Address to the Throne concerning
+          Affairs in America.                          CHATHAM        116
+
+    XXII. From "The Vicar of Wakefield."               GOLDSMITH      127
+
+   XXIII. Meeting of Johnson with Wilkes.              BOSWELL        133
+
+    XXIV. The Policy of the Empire in the First
+          Century.                                     GIBBON         142
+
+     XXV. On the Attacks upon his Pension.             BURKE          147
+
+    XXVI. Two Eighteenth Century Scenes.               COWPER         155
+
+   XXVII. From "The School for Scandal."               SHERIDAN       159
+
+  XXVIII. _The Cotter's Saturday Night._               BURNS          171
+
+    XXIX. _The Land o' the Leal._                      LADY NAIRN     177
+
+     XXX. The Trial by Combat at the Diamond of
+          the Desert.                                  SCOTT          179
+
+    XXXI. _To a Highland Girl._                        WORDSWORTH     202
+
+   XXXII. _France: an Ode._                            COLERIDGE      205
+
+  XXXIII. _Complaint and Reproof._                     COLERIDGE      208
+
+   XXXIV. _The Well of St. Keyne._                     SOUTHEY        209
+
+    XXXV. _The Isles of Greece._                       BYRON          211
+
+   XXXVI. _Go where Glory Waits Thee._                 MOORE          214
+
+  XXXVII. _Dear Harp of My Country._                   MOORE          215
+
+ XXXVIII. _Come, ye Disconsolate._                     MOORE          216
+
+   XXXIX. _On a Lock of Milton's Hair._                HUNT           217
+
+      XL. _The Glove and the Lions._                   HUNT           217
+
+     XLI. _The Cloud._                                 SHELLEY        219
+
+    XLII. _On First Looking into Chapman's Homer._     KEATS          222
+
+   XLIII. _On the Grasshopper and the Cricket._        KEATS          222
+
+    XLIV. The Power and Danger of the Caesars.          DE QUINCEY     223
+
+     XLV. Unthoughtfulness.                            DR. ARNOLD     227
+
+    XLVI. _The Bridge of Sighs._                       HOOD           234
+
+   XLVII. _A Parental Ode to my Son._                  HOOD           237
+
+  XLVIII. Metaphysics.                                 HALIBURTON     239
+
+    XLIX. _Indian Summer._                             LOVER          246
+
+       L. _To Helen._                                  PRAED          246
+
+      LI. _Horatius._                                  MACAULAY       247
+
+     LII. _The Raven._                                 POE            258
+
+    LIII. David Swan--A Fantasy.                       HAWTHORNE      262
+
+     LIV. _My Kate._                                   MRS. BROWNING  270
+
+      LV. _A Dead Rose._                               MRS. BROWNING  271
+
+     LVI. _To the Evening Wind._                       BRYANT         272
+
+    LVII. Death of the Protector.                      CARLYLE        274
+
+   LVIII. _Each and All._                              EMERSON        282
+
+     LIX. Waterloo.                                    LEVER          284
+
+      LX. _The Diver._                                 LYTTON         294
+
+     LXI. The Plague of Locusts.                       NEWMAN         299
+
+    LXII. _The Cane-bottom'd Chair._                   THACKERAY      306
+
+   LXIII. The Reconciliation.                          THACKERAY      308
+
+    LXIV. _The Island of the Scots._                   AYTOUN         315
+
+     LXV. The Gambling Party.                          BEACONSFIELD   321
+
+    LXVI. The Pickwickians Disport themselves on Ice.  DICKENS        327
+
+   LXVII. _The Hanging of the Crane._                  LONGFELLOW     336
+
+  LXVIII. Earthworms.                                  DARWIN         342
+
+    LXIX. "_As Ships, Becalmed at Eve._"               CLOUGH         346
+
+     LXX. _Duty._                                      CLOUGH         347
+
+    LXXI. _Sonnets._                                   HEAVYSEGE      349
+
+   LXXII. Dr. Arnold at Rugby.                         DEAN STANLEY   350
+
+  LXXIII. _Ode to the North-east Wind._                KINGSLEY       354
+
+   LXXIV. From "The Mill on the Floss."                GEORGE ELIOT   356
+
+    LXXV. _The Cloud Confines._                        ROSSETTI       359
+
+   LXXVI. _Barbara Frietchie._                         WHITTIER       361
+
+  LXXVII. _Contentment._                               HOLMES         364
+
+ LXXVIII. The British Constitution.                    GLADSTONE      367
+
+   LXXIX. _The Lord of Burleigh._                      TENNYSON       370
+
+    LXXX. "_Break, Break, Break._"                     TENNYSON       373
+
+   LXXXI. _The "Revenge"._                             TENNYSON       373
+
+  LXXXII. _Herve Riel._                                BROWNING       378
+
+ LXXXIII. _Sonnet._                                    DR. WILSON     383
+
+  LXXXIV. _Our Ideal._                                 DR. WILSON     383
+
+   LXXXV. From the Apology of Socrates.                JOWETT         384
+
+  LXXXVI. The Empire of the Caesars.                    FROUDE         389
+
+ LXXXVII. Of the Mystery of Life.                      RUSKIN         390
+
+LXXXVIII. The Robin.                                   LOWELL         397
+
+  LXXXIX. _The Old Cradle._                            LOCKER         400
+
+      XC. _Rugby Chapel._                              MATT. ARNOLD   401
+
+     XCI. _In the Orillia Woods._                      SANGSTER       408
+
+    XCII. Morals and Character in the Eighteenth
+          Century.                                     GOLDWIN SMITH  409
+
+   XCIII. A Liberal Education.                         HUXLEY         412
+
+    XCIV. _Too Late._                                  MRS. CRAIK     416
+
+     XCV. _Amor Mundi._                                MISS ROSSETTI  417
+
+    XCVI. _Toujours Amour._                            STEDMAN        418
+
+   XCVII. _England._                                   ALDRICH        419
+
+  XCVIII. _Rococo._                                    ALDRICH        420
+
+    XCIX. _Kings of Men._                              JOHN READE     420
+
+       C. _Thalatta! Thalatta!_                        JOHN READE     421
+
+      CI. _The Forsaken Garden._                       SWINBURNE      422
+
+     CII. _A Ballad To Queen Elizabeth
+          of the Spanish Armada._                      DOBSON         424
+
+    CIII. _Circe._                                     DOBSON         426
+
+     CIV. _Scenes from "Tecumseh."_                    MAIR           426
+
+      CV. _The Return of the Swallows._                GOSSE          437
+
+     CVI. _Dawn Angels._                               MISS ROBINSON  438
+
+    CVII. _Le Roi Est Mort._                           MISS ROBINSON  439
+
+   CVIII. _To Winter._                                 ROBERTS        440
+
+     CIX. _Abigail Becker._                            MISS JONES     442
+
+
+
+
+SHORT EXTRACTS.
+
+
+                FIRST LINES.                             AUTHOR.     PAGE.
+
+He that cannot see well                                BACON           54
+
+_Stone walls do not a prison make_                     LOVELACE        55
+
+When the heart is right                                BERKELEY        87
+
+_It must be so--Plato, thou reasonest well_            ADDISON         92
+
+_England, with all thy faults, I love thee still_      COWPER         154
+
+_Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast_       COWPER         158
+
+_Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us_                 BURNS          170
+
+_Life! we've been long together_                       MRS. BARBAULD  178
+
+_Rough wind, that moanest loud_                        SHELLEY        218
+
+_There is a book, who runs may read_                   KEBLE          233
+
+_There is no great and no small_                       EMERSON        245
+
+_Wellington, Thy great work is but begun_              ROSSETTI       293
+
+_Sacrifice and self-devotion_                          LORD HOUGHTON  320
+
+_Flower in the crannied wall_                          TENNYSON       366
+
+_It fortifies my soul to know_                         CLOUGH         369
+
+_And yet, dear heart! remembering thee_                WHITTIER       372
+
+_There is no land like England_                        TENNYSON       377
+
+_The Summum Pulchrum rests in heaven above_            CLOUGH         382
+
+Be of good cheer then, my dear Crito                   SOCRATES       388
+
+_What know we greater than the soul_                   TENNYSON       407
+
+_That is best blood that hath most iron in't_          LOWELL         411
+
+_Such kings of shreds have woo'd and won her_          ALDRICH        419
+
+
+
+
+INDEX OF AUTHORS.
+
+
+                  NAME.                               PAGE.
+
+ADDISON, JOSEPH                                         88, 92
+
+ALDRICH, THOMAS BAILEY                                419, 420
+
+ARNOLD, MATTHEW                                            401
+
+ARNOLD, THOMAS                                             227
+
+AYTOUN, WM. EDMONDSTOUNE                                   315
+
+
+BACON, LORD (FRANCIS)                                   53, 54
+
+BARBAULD, ANNA LAETITIA                                     178
+
+BEACONSFIELD, LORD (BENJAMIN DISRAELI)                     321
+
+BERKELEY, BISHOP (GEORGE)                                   87
+
+BIBLE, THE HOLY                                         33, 39
+
+BOSWELL, JAMES                                             133
+
+BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT                           270, 271
+
+BROWNING, ROBERT                                           378
+
+BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN                                     272
+
+BURKE, EDMUND                                              147
+
+BURNS, ROBERT                                         170, 171
+
+BYRON, LORD (GEORGE GORDON NOEL)                           211
+
+
+CARLYLE, THOMAS                                            274
+
+CHATHAM, LORD (WM. PITT)                                   116
+
+CLARENDON, LORD                                             76
+
+CLOUGH, ARTHUR HUGH                         346, 347, 369, 382
+
+COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR                              205, 208
+
+COWPER, WILLIAM                                  154, 155, 158
+
+CRAIK, DINAH MARIA MULOCK                                  416
+
+
+DARWIN, CHARLES                                            342
+
+DE QUINCEY, THOMAS                                         223
+
+DICKENS, CHARLES                                           327
+
+DOBSON, AUSTIN                                        424, 426
+
+DRYDEN, JOHN                                        81, 82, 83
+
+
+ELIOT, GEORGE (MARIAN EVANS CROSS)                         356
+
+EMERSON, RALPH WALDO                                  245, 282
+
+
+FROUDE, JAMES ANTHONY                                      389
+
+
+GIBBON, EDWARD                                             142
+
+GLADSTONE, WILLIAM EWART                                   367
+
+GOLDSMITH, OLIVER                                          127
+
+GOSSE, EDMUND WILLIAM                                      437
+
+GRAY, THOMAS                                               111
+
+
+HALIBURTON, THOMAS CHANDLER                                239
+
+HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL                                       262
+
+HEAVYSEGE, CHARLES                                         349
+
+HERRICK, ROBERT                                             55
+
+HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL                                     364
+
+HOOD, THOMAS                                          234, 237
+
+HOUGHTON, LORD (RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES)                   320
+
+HUME, DAVID                                                102
+
+HUNT, LEIGH                                                217
+
+HUXLEY, THOMAS HENRY                                       412
+
+
+JONES, AMANDA T.                                           412
+
+JOWETT, BENJAMIN                                           384
+
+
+KEATS, JOHN                                                222
+
+KEBLE, JOHN                                                233
+
+KINGSLEY, CHARLES                                          354
+
+
+LEVER, CHARLES JAMES                                       284
+
+LOCKER, FREDERICK                                          400
+
+LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH                                336
+
+LOVELACE, RICHARD                                       55, 61
+
+LOVER, SAMUEL                                              246
+
+LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL                                 397, 411
+
+LYTTON, LORD (EDWARD BULWER)                               294
+
+
+MACAULAY, LORD (THOMAS BABINGTON)                          247
+
+MAIR, CHARLES                                              426
+
+MILTON, JOHN                                                67
+
+MOORE, THOMAS                                    214, 215, 216
+
+
+NAIRN, BARONESS (CAROLINA OLIPHANT)                       177
+
+NEWMAN, CARDINAL (JOHN HENRY)                              299
+
+
+POE, EDGAR ALLAN                                           258
+
+POPE, ALEXANDER                                             96
+
+PRAED, WINTHROP MACKWORTH                                  246
+
+
+READE, JOHN                                           420, 421
+
+ROBERTS, CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS                            440
+
+ROBINSON, A. MARY F.                                  438, 439
+
+ROSSETTI, CHRISTINA GEORGINA                               417
+
+ROSSETTI, DANTE GABRIEL                               293, 359
+
+RUSKIN, JOHN                                               390
+
+
+SANGSTER, CHARLES                                          408
+
+SCOTT, SIR WALTER                                          179
+
+SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM                                        40
+
+SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE                                 218, 219
+
+SHERIDAN, RICHARD BRINSLEY                                 159
+
+SMITH, GOLDWIN                                             409
+
+SOUTHEY, ROBERT                                            209
+
+STANLEY, DEAN (ARTHUR PENRHYN)                             350
+
+STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE                                   418
+
+STEELE, SIR RICHARD                                         83
+
+SWIFT, JONATHAN                                             93
+
+SWINBURNE, ALGERNON CHARLES                                422
+
+
+TAYLOR, BISHOP (JEREMY)                                     56
+
+TENNYSON, LORD (ALFRED)                366, 370, 373, 377, 407
+
+THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE                          306, 308
+
+THOMSON, JAMES                                             101
+
+
+WALTON, IZAAK                                               62
+
+WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF                              361, 372
+
+WILSON, PRESIDENT (DANIEL)                                 383
+
+WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM                                        202
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTORY.
+
+
+The ability to read well cannot be attained without much pains and
+study. For even a moderate proficiency in the art of reading two
+requirements are essential: (1) A cultivated mind quick to perceive the
+sequence of thoughts which the words to be read logically express, and
+equally quick in its power sympathetically to appreciate the sentiment
+with which the words are informed--the feeling, emotion, passion, which
+pervades them--but which they suggest rather than actually portray; and
+(2) a voice so perfected that its utterances fall upon the ear of the
+listener with pleasing effect, and so flexible that it can be managed
+skilfully to convey to him the full meaning and force of all the ideas
+and sentiments formally expressed by the words or latent in them. Of
+these two requirements the first is undeniably the more important; and
+that training in the art of reading in which the close, persistent, and
+liberal study of literature for its own sake has not proceeded _pari
+passu_ with the requisite exercises for the development of the powers of
+the voice and with the study of the principles of vocal interpretation,
+has resulted in a meretricious accomplishment of very illusive value.
+
+Nor will the special study and accurate mastery of a number of
+individual selections give that readiness of mental apprehension which
+is indispensable to a good reader. The ability quickly to recognize
+word-forms and to utter them with ease, to catch the drift of ideas, and
+to feel ready sympathy with change and flow in sentiment, is not to be
+had without a long course of wide and varied reading. No one can become
+a good reader by passing through, no matter how carefully, a set of
+reading text-books merely. Pupils should be encouraged to read for
+themselves. They should, of course, be guided in their selection of
+reading matter, and they should be helped to acquire a taste for that
+which is purest and most helpful in literature; but unless they form a
+_habit_ of reading, and of reading thoughtfully and with precision, they
+can never become good readers.
+
+In oral reading, readiness and accuracy depend largely upon the
+alertness and flexibility of the vocal organs, and to secure ease and
+excellence in the working of their delicate mechanism much practice is
+necessary. The pupil should persistently read aloud. A practice of this
+sort, watchfully pursued, with a reasonable degree of self-discipline in
+the correction or avoidance of errors, is helpful not alone in obtaining
+a mastery of the reading art, and in mental culture,--it is equally
+beneficial as a physical exercise. It will, however, be much more
+efficacious of good, both of mind and of body, if pursued in accordance
+with those principles of voice culture and of vocal interpretation,
+which experience and special study have established.
+
+But only a small proportion of all the reading that is done, is oral
+reading. It is _silent_ reading that is universally employed as an
+instrument of study, of business, of amusement. As a rule, however, very
+little provision is made for the acquirement of a facility in silent
+reading; this, it is thought, will result as a by-product of the regular
+training in oral reading. Almost the reverse of this is true. Ease and
+flexibility of articulation, quickness in catching the drift of ideas,
+and readiness in varying the tones of the voice in the utterance of
+words so as impressively to portray their latent sentiment,--all this is
+possible with those alone to whom difficult word-forms, complex
+sentence-structures, and the infinite variety and play of thought and
+emotion, are more or less familiar through such a wide range of reading
+as only the silent prosecution of it makes possible.
+
+The art of oral reading, however, though not so generally needful as
+silent reading, is still of great importance to everyone in respect of
+its practical utility simply,--though few of those whose duty it is to
+read aloud in public, do so either with accuracy or grace; as an
+accomplishment which may be used to give pleasure to others, it is, when
+perfectly possessed, not excelled by any other; so that as an
+acquisition which puts one in a position of vantage either for
+benefitting one's self or for bestowing delight or benefit upon others,
+it is worth every necessary struggle for its attainment.
+
+One of the most valuable results of oral reading when systematically
+pursued as a school study, is the effect which it has in improving the
+tones of the voice for ordinary conversation and discourse, and in
+securing some measure of orthoepy as a fixed habit of utterance.
+Conversational speech is notoriously slovenly. The sonority of our
+vowels is lost, and their distinguishing qualities are obscured;
+and with unnoticed frequency our consonants are either dropped or
+amalgamated with one another. Yet, while amendment in these matters
+is to be striven for, there is nothing that the teacher who wishes
+to establish habits of orthoepy has to be more watchful in guarding
+against, than bestowing upon his pupils an affected or mincing
+utterance, all the more ludicrous and objectionable, it may be,
+in that a certain set of words are pronounced with over-nicety,
+while almost all others are left in a state of neglected vulgarity.
+
+Too frequently the study of oral reading is pursued with reference
+solely to the prospective public use of the art in the declamation of
+prepared passages; and the elocution-master's science has been brought
+into some discredit by wide discrepancies between the performances of
+his pupils in their well-drilled and often hackneyed selections and
+their ability to read unfamiliar pieces at sight. It is quite true that
+voice culture is greatly aided by the close study and frequent rendering
+of selections suitably chosen for the elocutionary difficulties which
+they present; but it should never be forgotten that good reading, the
+sort of reading which the schoolmaster should above all else endeavor to
+make his pupils proficient in, implies the ability so to read a plain
+account, a story, an oration, a play, or what not, _at sight_, with
+absolute correctness as to pronunciation, with such clearness of
+articulation and appropriateness of sentence utterance as will make it
+perfectly audible and intelligible to one's auditors, and with such
+suitable and impressive intonations as will put them in full possession
+of those emotions which may be said to be the essence or spirit of the
+piece;--and, moreover, to do all this with pleasure to one's hearers and
+with ease to one's self. Now as comparatively few readers are ever
+required to read in public, and as in the home-circle everyone ought to
+read, it is plain that the first duty of the teacher of elocution is to
+develop in his pupils a mastery of such a style of reading as is
+appropriate to small audiences; and, _then_, if he have time and
+opportunity, to extend and amplify the practice of his art so as to fit
+such as are capable of fuller mastery of it to appear before greater
+audiences. For though all voices are capable of being much improved
+through cultivation, few only can be adapted to the requirements of
+a large auditorium; and the care and attention which should be devoted
+to the benefit of all should not be spent for the advantage merely of
+the few.
+
+And moreover, those practices and studies which voice culture and the
+attainment of a knowledge of the principles of vocal interpretation
+demand, may be pursued by all in common. That alone which is necessary
+for the public reader or orator, is a more extended, and, perhaps, a
+more earnest and thoughtful practice.
+
+Although practices for the improvement of the voice cannot proceed far
+without attention to the principles of vocal interpretation, and though
+the study of the latter necessarily includes the former, yet for the
+sake of clearness the elementary principles of voice culture may be
+discussed separately from their application in the interpretation of
+thought and sentiment.
+
+With respect both to articulation and expression _the generic properties
+of the voice are five_, namely: _Quality_, _Pitch_, _Force_, _Time_,
+_Abruptness_. Of these properties there are, of course, many modes or
+degrees, but the voice must, in every tone that it utters, manifest
+itself in some mode or other of each; and it is the possibility of
+infinite choice in the ways of combining the modes that gives to vocal
+expression its infinite possibility of variety. The principles of voice
+culture will be best understood, however, if these properties be
+considered separately.
+
+=Quality= has reference to the _kind_ of the voice in respect of its
+smoothness or roughness, sonority or thinness, musicalness or harshness;
+also in respect of the completeness of its vocality.
+
+=Pitch= has reference to the degree of elevation or depression in what
+is called in music the _scale_. It may be used specifically, in
+reference to single tones or syllables (either as to their opening, or
+as to their whole utterance), or generally, as descriptive of the
+prevailing tone or note which the voice assumes in reading a sentence or
+passage.
+
+=Force= has reference to the power or intensity with which the sounds of
+the voice are uttered. When force is used in the utterance of single
+syllables, in whole or in part, it is spoken of as =Stress=.
+
+=Time= is rate of utterance. It is used with reference both to single
+syllables, and to phrases, sentences, and passages. In regard to single
+syllables it is sometimes called =Quantity=. In the consideration of
+time may be included that of _pauses_ and _rhythms_.
+
+=Abruptness= has reference to the relative suddenness with which
+syllables may be uttered. It may vary from the most delicate opening to
+a forcible explosion.
+
+Vocality depends upon respiration. All exercises, therefore, which are
+effective in increasing the vigor, freedom, and elasticity of the
+breathing apparatus, may be taken as initiatory steps in voice culture;
+and, in moderation, they should be practised continually. Full, slow
+inspirations followed by slow, and, as far as possible, complete
+expirations; full, quick inspirations similarly followed; full
+inspirations followed by sudden and forcible expirations; full, deep
+inspirations, followed by slow, slightly but distinctly audible
+expirations, as in deep sighing; these and similar practices may be
+pursued. What is to be aimed at is to secure complete control of the
+breath, especially to the degree that, with perfect deliberateness, it
+can be equably and smoothly effused.
+
+In all exercises where vocality is required it is best _first_ to use
+the sound of _ae_, as in _far_, for in this sound the quality of the
+human voice is heard in most perfection, and in uttering it the vocal
+organs are most flexible and most easily adapt themselves to change. It
+may be preceded by the aspirate _h_, or by some consonant, as may be
+thought necessary.
+
+In effective speaking or reading, _with respect to the abruptness and
+rapidity of expiration there are three modes of utterance_: the
+=effusive=, by which the voice is poured forth smoothly and equably, the
+=expulsive= and the =explosive=. Of these three modes the effusive is by
+far the most important, but the others, and especially the expulsive,
+have their uses also. These modes will be illustrated in the following
+exercise:
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. After a full and deliberate inspiration let the
+    expiration of the element _h_ be gently effected, until the
+    lungs are exhausted--the aspiration coming from the very depths
+    of the throat. Let this be repeated with the syllable _haeh_,
+    audibly whispered. This is _effusive_ utterance.
+
+    2. After a full and deliberate inspiration let the expiration of
+    the element _h_ be suddenly effected, the expiration being
+    continued until the whispering sound vanishes in the bottom of
+    the throat. Let this be repeated with the syllable _haeh_,
+    audibly whispered. This is _expulsive_ utterance.
+
+    3. Let the exercise be the same as in (2) except that the
+    expiration is to be much more forcibly effected, and completed
+    almost instantaneously. This is _explosive_ utterance.
+
+In the cultivation of the voice either one of two ends is generally kept
+in view--its improvement for speaking or its improvement for singing;
+but progress may be made towards both ends by the same study, and those
+exercises which benefit the singing voice benefit the speaking voice,
+and _vice versa_. _The distinction between speaking tones and singing
+tones should be clearly understood._ Musical tones are produced by
+isochronous (equal-timed) vibrations of the vocal organs continued for
+some length of time. Hence, a musical tone is a _note_, which may be
+prolonged at will without varying in pitch, either up or down. A
+speaking tone, on the contrary, is produced by vibrations which are not
+isochronous; it is not a _note_, properly so called, and can not be
+prolonged, without varying in pitch. Musical tones are _discrete_,--the
+voice passes from pitch to pitch through the intervals silently. In
+speaking, _every_ tone, however short the time taken in uttering it,
+passes from one pitch to some other through an interval _concretely_,
+that is, with continuous vocality; though, with respect to one another,
+speech syllables, like notes in music, are discrete. This may be
+exemplified by uttering the words, "_Where are you going?_" In singing
+these words, they may be uttered on the same note, or on different
+notes, or, indeed, with different notes for the same word; but the voice
+_skips_ from note to note through the intervals. In speaking the words,
+each is uttered with an inflection or intonation in which the voice
+varies in pitch, but passes through the interval concretely; the
+separate words, however, and the separate syllables (if there were any)
+being uttered discretely. Musical utterance might be graphically
+illustrated by a series of horizontal lines of less or greater length
+succeeding one another at different distances above or below a fixed
+horizontal line. In a similar notation for speech utterance the lines
+would all be curved, to represent the concrete passage through the
+various intervals. _It is the concrete intonation of every syllable and
+monosyllabic word which gives to speech its distinctive character from
+music._ Each syllable and monosyllabic word is called a =concrete=, and
+_it is with the concrete in all its various possibilities of utterance
+that voice culture has mainly to do_.
+
+The intervals traversed by the voice in uttering the concrete are very
+variable. Using the musical scale for reference it may be said that in
+ordinary speech they are generally of but one, or, at most, two notes.
+In animated discourse or passionate utterance the intervals may be
+greater. For illustration, let the pronoun "_I_" be uttered in a tone of
+interrogative surprise; a concrete with a rising interval will be the
+result. The more the surprise is emphasized, especially if indignation
+be conjoined with it, the greater will be the interval that the voice
+passes through in uttering the concrete. If the word "_lie_" be given
+immediately after the pronoun with the same intensity of feeling, the
+voice discretely descends from the high pitch heard at the end of the
+utterance of the pronoun, and in uttering the next concrete, again
+ascends through an interval, of less or more extent according to the
+emphasis which is imparted to it.
+
+Again, in speech of sorrow, murmuring, piteous complaint, and the like,
+concrete intervals of less extent than those used in ordinary discourse
+are often heard. Thus, if the sentence "_Pity me, kind lady, I have no
+mother_," be uttered with a plaintive expression, concretes with small
+intervals will be distinctly noticeable; but it will be also noticed
+that with respect to one another the syllables are discretely uttered,
+just as in the sentence where the concrete intervals were much greater.
+
+Without intending a scientifically accurate and rigid statement, it may
+be said (again borrowing the terminology of music) that in ordinary
+speech the concretes are uttered with intervals of a _second_, or at
+most a _third_; that in very expressive or impassioned utterance
+intervals of a _fifth_ or an _octave_ are frequently used; and that the
+mode of progression from syllable to syllable is _diatonic_, that is,
+not concretely, but discretely from tone to tone; and further, that in
+plaintive language, the syllables are uttered concretely with intervals
+of a _semitone_ only, but that the mode of progression from syllable to
+syllable is still discrete.
+
+Sometimes, but rarely, syllables are uttered _tremulously_, or with a
+_tremor_; that is, with constituent intervals of less than a semitone,
+uttered discretely in rapid succession, and passing, in the aggregate,
+through an interval of more or less width. An exaggerated form of this
+utterance may be heard in the neighing of a horse.
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. Utter the syllable _pae_ as a concrete, with rising
+    and falling intervals, severally, of a _second_, _third_,
+    _fifth_, and an _octave_; also with intervals of a _semitone_;
+    also with a _tremor_. Let the exercise be varied so as to
+    include many degrees of initial pitch. Use a diagram of a
+    musical staff for reference.
+
+    2. Read with exaggerated impressiveness, "_Am_ =I= _to be your
+    slave?_ =No!="
+
+In the pronunciation of the letter [=a], as in _pate_, two sounds are
+heard: the first is that of the name of the letter, which is uttered
+with some degree of fulness; the second is that of _[=e]_ in _mete_,
+but, as it were, tapering and vanishing;--in the meantime the voice
+traverses a rising interval of one tone, that is, of a second. The
+utterance of these two sounds, although the sounds themselves are
+distinct, is completely continuous, from the full opening of the one to
+the vanishing close of the other, and it is impossible to say where the
+first ends and where the last begins. It is essential, however, to
+consider them separately. The first is called the =radical movement=,
+and the second the =vanishing movement=; and these together constitute
+the entire concrete.
+
+All the vowels do not equally well exemplify in their utterance a
+_distinction of sound_ in their radical and vanishing movements, because
+some vowel sounds are less diphthongal than others, and some, again, are
+pure monophthongs; but _these two movements and the concrete variation
+of pitch, the result of one impulse of the voice, are the essential
+structure of every syllable_, and are characteristic of speech-notes as
+contradistinguished from those of song.
+
+When the radical and vanishing movements are effected smoothly,
+distinctly, and without intensity or emotion, commencing fully and with
+some abruptness, and terminating gently and almost inaudibly, the result
+is the =equable concrete=. This of course may be produced with
+intervals, either upward or downward, of any degree--tone, semitone,
+third, fifth, or octave. It must be said, however, that some syllables,
+and even some vowels, lend themselves more easily than others to that
+prolonged utterance which is essential to the production of wide
+intervals and the perfectness of the vanishing movement.
+
+The equable concrete is the natural, simple mode of utterance; but under
+the influence of interest, excitement, passion, and so on, the utterance
+of the concrete may be greatly varied from this by means of _stress_, or
+force applied to some part or to all of its extent. The different
+variations may be described as follows:
+
+(1) =Radical Stress=, where force is applied to the opening of the
+concrete. (It should be said that a slight degree of radical stress is
+given even in the equable concrete, producing its full, clear opening.)
+
+(2) =Loud Concrete=, where force is applied throughout the whole
+concrete, the proportion of the radical to the vanish remaining
+unaltered.
+
+(3) =Median Stress=, where force is applied to the middle of the
+concrete, producing a swell, or impressive fulness.
+
+(4) =Compound Stress=, where force is applied in an unusual degree
+to each extremity of the concrete.
+
+(5) =Final Stress=, where force is applied to the end of the concrete,
+the radical stress being somewhat diminished in fulness.
+
+(6) =Thorough Stress=, where force is so applied that the concrete has
+the same fulness throughout.
+
+    EXERCISE.--With the syllable _pae_ exemplify the _equable
+    concrete_ and the several varieties of _stress_, using different
+    degrees of initial or radical pitch, and the various intervals
+    of the tone, semitone, third, fifth, and octave. The exercises
+    for the radical stress should be first aspirated, then repeated
+    with full vocality.
+
+Besides the forms of the simple rising and falling intervals in which
+the concrete is generally uttered, there is another form, called the
+=wave=, effected by a union of these modes. It is of two varieties: (1)
+where a rising movement is continued into a falling movement, called the
+=direct wave=; (2) where a falling movement is continued into a rising
+movement, called the =inverted wave=. Waves may pass through all
+varieties of intervals, and may be either (1) _equal_, where the voice
+in both members passes through the same interval; or (2) _unequal_,
+where in one flexion the interval traversed by the voice is greater than
+in the other.
+
+    EXERCISE.--With the syllable _p[=a]_ exemplify the different
+    kinds of _waves_, with the same variations of radical pitch,
+    interval, and stress, as before.
+
+The elementary sounds of speech are of three natural divisions; the
+_tonics_, the _subtonics_, and the _atonics_.
+
+The =Tonics= are the simple vowels and diphthongs. They are of perfect
+vocality; they admit the concrete rise and fall through all the
+intervals of pitch; they may be uttered with more abruptness than the
+other elements; and being capable of indefinite prolongation they can
+receive the most perfect exemplification of the vanishing movement. They
+may be said to be: _[a:]_, as in _all_; _ae_, as in _arm_; _[.a]_, as in
+_ask_; _[)a]_, as in _an_; _[=a]_, as in _ate_; _a_, as in _air_;
+_[=e]_, as in _eve_; _[)e]_, as in _end_; _e_, as in _err_; _[=i]_, as
+in _ice_; _[)i]_, as in _inn_; _[=o]_, as in _old_; _oe_, as in _or_;
+_[)o]_, as in _odd_; _[=u]_, as in _use_; _[)u]_, as in _up_;
+_[=o][=o]_, as in _ooze_; _[)o][)o]_, as in _book_; _oi_, as in _oil_;
+_ou_, as in _out_. (There are various ways of arranging and classifying
+these.)
+
+    EXERCISE.--Exemplify generally the equable concrete, loud
+    concrete, radical stress, and median stress, with upward and
+    downward intervals, with clear, sharp openings, and with
+    gradually attenuated vanishes, upon each of the _tonic
+    elements_.
+
+The =Subtonics= possess the properties of vocality and prolongation in
+some degree, but much less perfectly than the tonics, and their vocality
+(known as the _vocal murmur_) is the same for all. They are as
+follows:--_b_, _d_, _g_, _v_, _z_, _y_, _w_ (as in _woe_), _th_ (as in
+_then_), _zh_ (as _z_ in _azure_), j (as in _judge_, by some considered
+not elementary), _l_, _m_, _n_, _ng_ (as in _sing_), _r_ (as in _ran_),
+and _r_ (as in _far_). They can not, without great effort, be given an
+abrupt opening, and so are not capable of much radical fulness, but from
+their property of vocality they can receive, to a considerable degree,
+an exemplification of the vanishing movement.
+
+    EXERCISE.--Utter the word _bud_ slowly, and detach from the rest
+    of the word the obscure murmur heard in pronouncing the first
+    letter: this is the _subtonic_ represented by _b_. Utter this
+    sound with different degrees of initial pitch, and with
+    different intervals, both downward and upward. Produce as full
+    an opening of the radical movement as possible, but do not
+    attempt to give it much stress. Obtain in every case a distinct
+    vanish. Be careful not to convert the subtonic into a tonic.
+    Proceed in a similar manner with the other subtonics. Then,
+    distinctly obtaining the subtonics, unite them severally with
+    the sound of _ae_, first forcibly, then more gently, producing
+    such syllables as _bae_, _dae_, etc., which may be rendered with
+    upward and downward intervals, and with different degrees of
+    initial pitch. Finally, with such syllables as _aeb_, _aed_, _aeg_,
+    _aev_, etc., exemplify all the varieties of stress.
+
+The =Atonics= correspond with the first eleven of the subtonics as given
+above, from which they differ almost alone in having _no_ vocality. They
+are _p_, _t_, _k_, _f_, _s_, _h_, _wh_ (as in _when_), _th_ (as in
+_thin_), _sh_, and _ch_ (as in _child_, by some considered not
+elementary).
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. Form a list of such words as _pipe_, _tote_,
+    _kick_, _fife_, _siss_, etc., and severally utter them slowly,
+    holding the final element for a moment, and then letting the
+    breath escape suddenly; then, holding the initial letter firmly
+    for a moment let it come forcibly against the sound of the
+    remainder of the word, producing an abrupt opening, and radical
+    stress of the vowel concrete. 2. Aspirate strongly the atonics
+    as given above.
+
+    EXERCISE RECAPITULATORY.--1. Produce the syllable _pae_ in an
+    articulate whisper in all the different varieties of pitch,
+    interval, and stress. 2. Repeat with such syllables as _paw_,
+    _pooh_, _p[=o]h_, etc. 3. Utter these syllables (1) expulsively,
+    (2) explosively, with varying intervals both upward and
+    downward, and producing distinct and clearly attenuated
+    vanishes. 4. Select some passage of poetry involving passionate
+    thought, and read in articulated whispers, with appropriate
+    intonations, somewhat exaggerated, it may be. Let the intervals
+    and stresses be slowly and distinctly given. 5. Repeat the
+    exercise in a half whisper. 6. Next read the passage over
+    several times in pure vocality, without exaggeration, increasing
+    the strength of the utterance until it is as full and ringing as
+    possible. Care must be taken that the utterance is in reality
+    full and ringing, not sharp and hard. Let the pitch chosen be
+    not too high--as low as possible; and let the tones come mainly
+    from the chest and lower part of the throat.
+
+NOTE.--In all the exercises care should be taken that they be performed
+easily and naturally, with perfect deliberation and without undue force;
+else they will be harmful rather than useful.
+
+    EXERCISE IN CONCRETE INTERVALS CONTINUED.--1. Read with
+    appropriate intonations: "_Did you say [a:], as in all?_"--"_No,
+    I said ae, as in arm_,"--producing in the emphatic syllables
+    suitable rising or falling intervals of _one tone_. Then repeat,
+    but with greater emphasis, producing intervals of a third, a
+    fifth, or an octave. Vary the sentences so as to include all the
+    tonic elements. 2. With each tonic element, severally, produce
+    first a rising and then a falling interval, each of a tone; then
+    intervals of a third, a fifth, and an octave. 3. Extend the
+    exercise so as to produce with each element, and with all the
+    various intervals, a series or succession of rising and falling
+    intervals, thus: _rising, falling, rising, falling_, etc. Use
+    the blackboard and the musical scale for illustration and
+    reference.
+
+Syllables vary greatly in their capacity for prolongation, and in this
+respect are classified into _immutable_, _mutable_, and _indefinite_.
+
+=Immutable Syllables= are almost incapable of prolongation; they are
+those which end in one of the abrupt atonic elements, _p_, _t_, _k_; as
+_tip_, _hit_, _kick_; or in one of the abrupt subtonics, _b_, _d_, _g_;
+as _tub_, _thud_, _pug_. Some syllables that so end, by virtue of tonic
+or subtonic elements which they may contain, are capable of _some_
+prolongation; for example, _warp_, _dart_, _block_, _grab_, _dread_,
+_grog_. These are called =Mutable Syllables=.
+
+=Indefinite Syllables= are capable of almost indefinite prolongation;
+they are those which terminate in a tonic, or any subtonic except one of
+the three abrupt subtonics, _b_, _d_, _g_; for example, _awe_, _fudge_,
+_hail_, _arm_.
+
+NOTE.--It must be remembered that when for the sake of exercise or
+effect syllables are extended in time, they must be so uttered that
+their identity is not impaired,--that is, their enunciation must be
+free from mouthing.
+
+As has been remarked before our pronunciation of vowels is notoriously
+careless; but by a little attention anyone can easily free himself from
+this reproach. Frequent practice in the accurate enunciation of the
+tonic elements as given above, and a habit of watchfulness established
+as to the orthoepy of those which are most easily obscured, in all words
+in which they occur, will soon secure, if not a resonant, sonorous
+utterance with respect to the tonic elements, at least a correct
+pronunciation. But the correct and distinct pronunciation of the
+subtonic, and especially of the atonic, elements, when they occur,
+as is so frequent in English words, in combination, is not so easily
+accomplished; and orthoepy, in this respect, as a _habit_, cannot be
+secured without great care and incessant practice. For example, the
+word _months_ is habitually pronounced by almost everyone as if it
+were spelled _munce_. The following list for practice will afford
+material to begin with; other lists should be prepared by the teacher.
+
+_Plinth, blithe, sphere, shriek, quote, whether, tipt, depth, robed,
+hoofed, calved, width, hundredth, exhaust, whizzed, hushed, ached,
+wagged, etched, pledged, asked, dreamt, alms, adapts, depths, lefts,
+heav'ns, meddl'd, beasts, wasps, hosts, exhausts, gasped, desks,
+selects, facts, hints, healths, tenths, salts, builds, wilds, milked,
+mulcts, elms, prob'd'st, think'st, hold'st, attempt'st, want'st,
+heard'st, mask'st._
+
+    EXERCISE.--Utter the words in the above list in distinct
+    articulate whispers; then with vocality, softly and gently.
+    Avoid hissing and mouthing.
+
+While, in reading, distinct enunciation is an excellence to be aimed at,
+yet the words of a sentence should not be uttered as if completely
+severed from one another. Every sentence falls naturally into _groups_,
+the several groups being composed of words related in sense; and for
+impressive reading the words of each group should be _implicated_, or
+tied together. For example, in the line, _Once upon a midnight dreary,
+while I ponder'd, weak and weary_, there are naturally three groups; in
+the line, _The quality of mercy is not strain'd_, there is but one. In
+these groups the terminal sound of each word is implicated with the
+initial sound of the succeeding word. If the terminal sound is a tonic,
+or a flowing subtonic, the implication consists of a gentle murmuring
+prolongation of the terminal element coalescing with the initial element
+of the next word; if the terminal element is a flowing atonic the
+prolongation will not be accompanied by a murmur; but in either case the
+vocal organs, while prolonging the sound of one word, prepare, as it
+were, to begin the next. If the terminal element be one of the abrupt
+subtonics the vocal murmur is difficult to produce, and in this case,
+and also when the terminal element is an abrupt atonic, there is a
+suspension of the voice for a time equal to that occupied by the
+murmuring prolongation in the other cases; but the organs keep the
+position which they have in finishing the one word until they relax to
+take position for the utterance, with renewed exertion, of the opening
+sound of the next.
+
+It must be added that this implication is not confined to the component
+words of a group; for the sake of impressiveness the groups themselves
+are often implicated,--but by suspension of the voice and a maintenance
+of the vocal organs in their previous position, before they suddenly
+relax to form the opening sound of the first word in their next group,
+rather than by the murmuring prolongation above described.
+
+    EXERCISE.--Read with suitable implication: (1) _O Tiber! father
+    Tiber! to whom the Romans pray, a Roman's life, a Roman's arms,
+    take thou in charge this day!_ (2) _But still the patriot, and
+    the patriot-bard, in bright succession raise, her ornament and
+    guard._
+
+The nicety with which implication should be effected depends, like
+exactness of articulation, upon the gravity, complexity, fervor, grace,
+beauty, or other distinguishing and elevated quality of the thoughts and
+sentiments contained in the words to be read. Common-place ideas are
+couched, as a rule, in common-place language, and require no nice
+discrimination of sounds, or other refinement of utterance, for their
+full rendering; but in true poetry and impassioned prose implication is
+no mean instrument of effectual interpretation.
+
+The speaking voice, like the singing voice, is capable of utterance
+through a considerable range of pitch--in highly cultivated voices, of
+three octaves; in less highly cultivated voices, of one octave; but for
+all voices, not perverted by bad habit, there are three or four notes,
+of moderate height, upon which utterance is most easy and natural, and
+most capable of great and sustained effort. These notes should be
+selected as the =normal pitch= of discourse.
+
+In speaking or reading, except in certain infrequent cases, the _whole_
+of the breath expired from the lungs should be utilized in producing
+=pure vocality=. Should any breath be spent in aspiration, or in
+hissing, or in guttural enunciation, the vocality is said to be
+=impure=. Impure vocality, it is true, has its own appropriate use, in
+the representation of certain emotional states of the mind. Pure
+vocality is heard naturally in the tones of children at play; but in
+adults, through carelessness or injudicious education, it is often
+wanting.
+
+The mechanism of the voice is very complicated and not thoroughly
+understood. It is a matter of common experience, however, that in the
+utterance of tones of low pitch, whether speech tones or musical, the
+voice seems to come from the chest rather than from the head; and, in
+the utterance of tones of high pitch, on the other hand, it seems to
+come from the head rather than from the chest; so that all tones are
+said to belong either to the _lower_ or _chest register_, or to the
+_higher_ or _head register_. As both chest tones and head tones may be
+obscured by impurities, and their resonance diminished or destroyed by
+defective enunciation, the pure, clear, ringing utterance of tones of
+both registers should be constantly striven for. The normal pitch of
+utterance, referred to above, should always be such that the tones
+comprised in it can be produced either from the head or from the chest,
+at will; but for sustained efforts, for the best effects both of reading
+and of oratory, the chest tones are much to be preferred, since, as
+compared with head tones, they are capable of being produced with
+greater resonance and penetrating power, and, for any considerable
+length of time, with greater ease to the speaker.
+
+All tones of the human voice, whether speaking or musical, whether of
+the head or of the chest, are spoken of as having =quality=, or
+=timbre=, and the term is also used more generally in reference to the
+whole compass of utterance. The quality of the voice is its most
+distinguishing characteristic, and it is upon its cultivation and
+improvement that the greatest efforts of the student should be spent.
+Pure voice is usually spoken of as being manifested in two qualities,
+the _natural_ and the _orotund_.
+
+=Natural Quality= may be described as a head tone to which some degree
+of resonance is given by the chest; but the brilliancy of its resonance
+is produced by its reverberation against the bony arch of the mouth. It
+may, of course, vary in pitch, but tones of low pitch that are intended
+to be impressive are most suitably rendered in orotund quality. In its
+perfect manifestations, the natural quality should be clear, ringing,
+light, and sparkling,--if it be possible to describe its characteristics
+by such metaphorical words.
+
+=Orotund Quality= is the result only of cultivation, but no speaker or
+reader can produce those finer effects which are the appropriate symbols
+of strong and deep emotion, whose voice cannot assume this mode at will.
+It differs from the natural mode in obtaining from the chest a greater
+supply of air, and a deeper and fuller resonance, and the reverberations
+seem to be against the walls of the pharynx, or posterior regions of the
+mouth, rather than against the palate, or upper part of the mouth. In
+fulness, strength, and ringing quality, it is superior to the natural
+mode, but not distinct from it; in clearness and smoothness it should be
+equal to it. As it befits a chest tone rather than a head tone, it is
+natural to utterances in medium and low pitch; but it must not be
+confounded with low pitch simply, nor must its characteristic fulness be
+taken for loudness simply. With the orotund, as well as with the natural
+quality, all the voice modes previously described may be conjoined.
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. With the syllable _haeh_, make an expiration in the
+    voice of whisper, forcing slowly all air out from the chest.
+    Then give to this expiration vocality, producing the
+    reverberation far back in the mouth: the resulting utterance is
+    a _hoarse exemplification of the orotund_. With the mouth in the
+    position of a yawn, making the cavity of reverberation as large
+    as possible, repeat the exercise until the utterance can be
+    produced smoothly and without hoarseness. 2. Form similar
+    syllables containing other tonic elements, and make similar
+    exercises, taking care to produce a smooth, effusive utterance.
+    3. Select a sentence such as "_Roll on thou deep and dark blue
+    ocean, roll_," abounding in long open vowels and indefinite
+    syllables, and using suitable intonations read it in low pitch,
+    with full, resonant chest tones. Then gradually raise the pitch,
+    still obtaining the tones from the chest and uttering them with
+    full resonance. 4. With such syllables as _haeh_, _you_, _now_,
+    _man_, _war_, _hail_, _fool_, practise in orotund voice the
+    various exercises for pitch, concrete intervals, waves, stress,
+    etc., previously suggested. 5. Read with feeling and appropriate
+    intonations selected sentences from compositions of elevated or
+    impassioned diction, as "Solomons's Prayer" (p. 35), "The Hymn"
+    (p. 68), "France" (p. 205).
+
+Of the various qualities (as they are called) of impure voice, the
+=Aspirate=, the =Sibilant=, and the =Guttural= are defined with
+sufficient clearness, by their names. Though these modes can be
+appropriately used only occasionally, nevertheless they are of great
+value to the reader, and the voice should be trained to assume them
+whenever necessary. Great care must be exercised, however, that
+impurities shall never be present as characteristics of _normal_
+utterance; this, whether from the head or chest, should be distinct,
+sonorous, and smooth, and should exhaust every particle of air expired.
+
+Another impure quality is the =Pectoral=, which is an aspiration
+produced, as it were, from the lowest cavities of the chest; and still
+another is the =Falsetto=, an unnatural voice, that seems to be produced
+entirely in the upper cavities of the head. The employment of the
+Falsetto at any time, either in speaking or reading, is of doubtful
+taste.
+
+    EXERCISE.--1. With the syllable _haeh_ exemplify severally the
+    aspirate, guttural, and pectoral qualities, first with
+    insufficient vocality, then with sufficient. Exemplify the
+    sibilant impurity with such syllables as _pish_, _false_,
+    _traitress_, _miscreant_. In those exercises employ intervals of
+    varying lengths, different degrees of initial pitch, and the
+    several varieties of stress; and let the utterances be made
+    effusively, expulsively, and explosively. 2. Select appropriate
+    passages in "The Raven" (p. 258) for exercise in natural,
+    orotund, aspirate, guttural, and pectoral qualities. Read the
+    passages severally with appropriate intonations,--it may be
+    somewhat exaggeratingly. Then read the whole poem feelingly,
+    with appropriate, but not exaggerated intonations.
+
+So far, what has been said has had reference mainly to the cultivation
+and improvement of the voice, by the analogies and description of the
+various effective modes in which it can be manifested, and by the
+suggestion of suitable exercises for increasing its endurance, strength,
+flexibility, and resonance. It remains now to discuss shortly some of
+the principles of _vocal interpretation_,--that is, to discuss what
+modes of voice-action are appropriate to the representation of the
+various emotions which the wide range of literature presents to the
+reader.
+
+It must be said in respect of principles that only broad and easily
+verifiable ones are of use, and even these may be abused by a too
+rigorous adherence to them. The best rule that can be given, as indeed
+it is founded on a principle of widest application, is that laid down in
+the _Fourth Reader_:--_To give a faithful sympathetic attention to the
+full meaning and sentiment of what is read, and to manage the voice so
+as effectively to express this meaning and sentiment;_ since this will
+always ensure a certain measure of appropriateness, if not the full
+perfection of it. And it cannot be too much emphasized that even the
+fullest knowledge and most patient study can establish for the reading
+of any selection, or passage, or sentence, _none but general
+directions_, since the same words may very frequently be rendered in
+several ways, with differences of pitch, time, stress, quality,
+implication, and so on, but with equal effectiveness and equal
+appropriateness. And, on the other hand, any whole selection, even the
+simplest, is far too complex in its thought and sentiment to be disposed
+of in one general analysis, which shall predetermine the pitch, tone,
+and stress, and the prevailing width of the intervals, and the direction
+of the inflections; all these will vary from paragraph to paragraph, and
+from sentence to sentence, even from word to word. To sum up, it may be
+said that good reading demands as indispensable, quick-witted
+intelligence, ready sympathy, and a voice so trained as to be flexible
+and resonant; if the reader have this much endowment his reading will
+always be effective, and, moreover, appropriate and impressive.
+
+_All diction may be roughly described as exhibiting one of three states
+of feeling:_ (1) that in which feeling, as it is generally understood,
+is almost wanting; (2) that in which it is present in some considerable
+degree; (3) that in which the feeling is present in an extreme degree,
+dominating the ideas which the several sentences logically express. To
+the first division, which may be called the =diction of discourse=,
+belongs all language indicative of a quiet state of mind--formal
+statement, narrative, description, simple argument or reasoning: it is
+the language of all ordinary writing. To the second division, which may
+be called the =diction of sentiment or feeling=, belongs all language
+which indicates that the mind of the speaker, real or supposed, is in a
+state of moderate excitement; that he is interested in the relation of
+himself to others, and, consequently, in the effect of his utterances
+upon them; or that, subjectively, he is interested in himself: it is the
+language of admiration, reverence, awe, sincerity, dignity, of pathos,
+supplication, penitence. To the third division, which may be called the
+=diction of passion=, belongs all language expressive of deeper
+excitement and more vehement interest than that described as animating
+the diction of feeling: it is the language of earnest or anxious
+interrogation, of passionate ejaculation, of powerful appeal, strong
+accusation, and fierce denunciation; also, of contempt, derision, scorn,
+loathing, anger, hate, and so on.
+
+Voice, as we have seen, possesses five generic properties, pitch, force,
+quality, time, and abruptness; and, in every spoken word, it must assume
+some mode of _each_ of these properties, manifesting them in
+co-existence. This conjoint mode, or _vocal sign_, as it is called,
+should be the appropriate expression of the thought and feeling of which
+the word, in its place in the sentence, is the _graphical sign_. Hence,
+as each word in a sentence may be said to have its appropriate vocal
+sign, so each variety of diction may be said to have its appropriate
+vocal expression,--a latitude of choice in the constituent modes, and a
+consequent indeterminateness in the resulting expression, being, of
+course, always conceded.
+
+The appropriate vocal expression for the diction of discourse may be
+said to consist of the following modes:--normal pitch, simple
+intonations, and waves of a second, moderate force, the equable
+concrete varied by slight radical stress, in quality the natural mode,
+in abruptness sufficient sharpness of opening to effect clear
+articulation, and in time a moderate rate with effusive utterance.
+
+As the diction rises above this plain unimpassioned character, and
+becomes more and more informed with feeling and sentiment, the
+constituent vocal signs, and hence the whole vocal expression, become
+more and more expressive. In pitch there is frequent variation: in
+expressions of joy, astonishment, or for command, the voice assumes
+naturally a somewhat higher elevation; and with equal naturalness it
+descends below its normal level to utter the language of grave, solemn,
+and reverential feeling. Again, inasmuch as the interval of the second
+is the plainest and simplest within the command of the voice, in such
+diction as we are now considering, intervals of a third, a fifth, or
+even an octave, may be heard, both in simple intonations and in waves.
+Force, too, will not be unvaryingly applied, but will be greater or less
+according as energy or passion may demand. In stress the equable
+concrete will give place to the radical or to the final, to express
+energetic resolve; or, in the language of pathos, exaltation, reverence,
+supplication, and so on, to the median--the most effective of all modes
+for the expression of such deep feeling as is compatible with slow
+utterance. In time the rate of utterance will vary with the syllabic
+quantities, these being short and crisp in the language of vivacious
+conversation, but extended, and with distinct, attenuated vanishes, in
+grave and important monologue. In quality, whenever the diction,
+departing from its simple character, becomes pervaded by some deep
+emotion, the natural mode will give place to the orotund. And while
+effusive utterance is always the prevalent mode, it will give place to
+the expulsive mode or to the explosive, when energy of thought or force
+of passion requires it so.
+
+Thus, _as the diction rises_ from plain discourse to the language of
+feeling, _the appropriate vocal expression gathers intensity and becomes
+more varied_, assumes, as may be said, brighter colors and displays
+greater contrasts; and so, in the third class of diction, the diction of
+passion, it displays its intensest and most vivid modes--its brightest
+colors, its deepest contrasts.
+
+As it is in a general sense only, that diction can be understood to be
+referrible to three classes, so also, in a general sense only, can it be
+understood that any particular sentence or passage has its appropriate
+vocal expression. All that is intended is simply this: an analysis of
+the sentence, or passage, or selection, gives to the careful student a
+certain conception of the quality and intensity of the feeling or
+passion that pervades it; this is to be interpreted, as well as may be,
+by the most appropriate vocal signs possible--the whole constituting the
+vocal expression suitable to the piece. In respect to its pervading
+emotion, the selection will have what is called a =drift=, or general
+tendency, towards one of those states described as characteristic of the
+diction of discourse, the diction of feeling, and the diction of
+passion, respectively; and it is the business of the reader to watch for
+this drift, which of course may vary from passage to passage, from
+sentence to sentence, and sometimes from word to word, and to interpret
+it as best he may.
+
+To indicate what modes of voice utterance are naturally most appropriate
+to the expression of these various emotional states and drifts, it will
+be best to take up, one by one, the different properties of the voice,
+and the several modes in which they are manifested, and to state
+briefly, and in general terms, the emotional state or drift of which it
+is an appropriate expression. (With respect to quality and abruptness
+this will be sufficiently done indirectly.) The student then must for
+himself, if he wishes to apply these results to the reading of any
+selected passage, first by analysis ascertain what are the emotional
+states which it involves, what are its prevailing drifts, then in
+respect to each property of the voice choose the suitable mode for the
+interpretation of these several states or drifts, conjoin the selected
+modes into appropriate vocal signs, and with these form the vocal
+expression that suitably interprets the whole passage. _The teacher, or
+the teacher and student together, should select from the_ READER, _or
+elsewhere, sentences or passages that fitly exemplify the different
+modes; these should be written upon a black-board, or in some other way
+preserved, and be referred to frequently for practice both in voice
+culture and in vocal interpretation._
+
+
+I. PITCH. Pitch must be considered under three heads: first, as
+referring to the prevailing elevation of tone assumed by the voice in
+the reading of a whole sentence, passage, or selection, called _general_
+or _sentential pitch_; second, as referring to the degree of elevation
+assumed by the voice in the utterance of the opening, or radical, of any
+syllable, called _initial_ or _radical pitch_; third, as referring to
+the tone-width of the intervals in the utterance of the syllable
+concrete.
+
+=Sentential Pitch= in its various modes is descriptive of the general
+position in the scale taken by the tones of the voice in uttering a
+sentence or passage. It may be spoken of as _medium_, _high_, and _low_.
+=Medium Pitch= should correspond with the _normal pitch of discourse_
+previously described. It is natural to the expression of all
+unimpassioned thought, and also of all emotions, except the livelier,
+and the deeper and more intense. =High Pitch= and =Low Pitch= are only
+relative terms. They do not represent fixed and definite modes of
+utterance; and all that can be said is, that for the interpretation of
+what may be called the lighter feelings and emotions, such as
+cheerfulness, joy, exultation, interest, and so on, also for the
+expression of raillery, facetiousness, humorous conversation, laughter,
+and the like, sentential pitch of a degree somewhat higher than normal
+pitch is appropriate; and, on the other hand, for the interpretation of
+what may be called the graver and deeper feelings, such as awe,
+reverence, humility, grief, and melancholy, and the more impassioned
+emotions, as disgust, loathing, horror, rage, despair, as well as for
+the expression of all very serious and impressive thought, sentential
+pitch of a degree somewhat lower than normal pitch is appropriate. The
+degree of elevation and depression must be determined by the judgment
+and good taste of the reader; but it must be borne in mind that this
+degree may vary from passage to passage, and from sentence to sentence,
+and even from phrase to phrase.
+
+In every style of diction, no matter how unimpassioned it may be, there
+will be frequent changes in the train of thought, and frequent changes
+in the intensity of feeling; to represent these changes there should be
+corresponding variations, or =transitions in sentential pitch=. These
+transitions also serve another purpose, namely, to indicate an
+interpolated or parenthetical idea. In making transitions the voice
+follows the general law of all vocal interpretation; strong contrasts in
+thought and feeling are marked by transitions of wide intervals, and
+lesser contrasts by lesser intervals.
+
+_Transitions in pitch are naturally accompanied by corresponding changes
+in force, rate of utterance, and phrasing_; and, like all other modes of
+expression, these receive their color from the intensity of thought and
+feeling of which they are the symbols. For example, in the rendering of
+a parenthetical clause (since, as a rule, the thought expressed in the
+parenthesis is of less gravity than the thought in the main sentence),
+the voice will manifest itself in lighter force and generally in quicker
+movement, that is, in lighter, less contrasting colors; but whether the
+pitch be raised or lowered depends upon the sentential pitch appropriate
+to the main sentence,--it should be in contrast with that. And it may be
+remarked in passing, that the reading of the parenthesis should end with
+a phrase melody similar to that appropriate to the words immediately
+before the parenthesis, so that the ear may naturally be carried back to
+the proper place in the main clause for the continuation of the
+expression of the principal thought.
+
+=Radical Pitch=, that is the pitch with which the opening of a syllable
+is uttered, is, in respect of appropriate employment, the most important
+element of reading or speaking; but all that can be done here, is to
+call attention to this, and leave the student to exercise his taste and
+judgment in regard to its use. The importance of appropriately varying
+radical pitch so as to impart melody to continued utterance will be seen
+at once if a simple sentence (for example, "_Tom and Jim sat on a log_")
+be read, first in that monotonous voice (that is, with unvarying radical
+pitch) so often heard in the labored reading of improperly taught young
+children, and then with those appropriate intonations heard in animated
+colloquy. When properly rendered, even if read with but little
+animation, each syllable, or concrete, passes through an interval of a
+second, and the several syllables are discretely uttered; but the
+_radical pitch varies from syllable to syllable_, forming a diatonic
+melody. _For the rendering of any given sentence in appropriate diatonic
+melody, positive direction as to the order of succession in respect of
+radical pitch cannot be given_; the same words may be uttered with equal
+appropriateness in many varieties of melody. The ignoring of this fact
+has led to the most absurd pretensions.
+
+A group of two or three syllabic concretes is called a =phrase of
+melody=; and as phrases vary with respect to pitch, in the order of
+succession of the radicals of their constituent syllables, they receive
+different names: such as the _monotone_, in which the radicals are all
+on the same pitch; and the _ditone_ and the _tritone_, groups of two
+tones and three tones respectively, with radicals of different pitch;
+and, again, the concretes in these phrases may have upward or downward
+intonations: but fixed rules cannot be laid down for their use. The
+reader must bear in mind, however, that it is upon the tasteful use of
+phrases and cadences, that is, upon the tasteful employment of
+variation in radical pitch, that the melody of uttered language depends;
+and that if it be devoid of this melody, it is both wearisome and
+unimpressive to the hearer.
+
+The intonations of the voice must necessarily be through either rising
+intervals or falling intervals, and there is a generic difference in the
+meaning of these. =The rising interval= is heard naturally at the end of
+a direct question; that is, one to which "_yes_" or "_no_" is an
+expected answer, as "_Are you going home?_" The suspensive tone which
+the voice assumes at the end of the interrogation is indicative of
+incompleteness of thought; and _indication of incompleteness is the
+characteristic function of all rising intervals_.
+
+=The falling interval= is heard naturally at the close of a complete
+statement, as "_I am here_"; and hence, _words indicating completeness,
+positiveness, resolution, are appropriately uttered with downward
+intervals_. In effecting a downward intonation the voice operates in one
+of two ways: either the _weaker mode_, in which it descends from a
+radical pitch at or near the current tone to a lower pitch; or the
+_stronger mode_, in which it assumes discretely a radical pitch as much
+_above_ the current tone as the emphasis requires, and descends
+concretely either to the current tone or below it.
+
+As every sentence is more or less incomplete until the end is reached,
+_rising intervals are the rule in intonation, and falling intervals the
+exception_, and it is this infrequency of use which gives to the falling
+movement its value as a mode of emphasis. But where the emphasis is that
+of doubt, uncertainty, surprise, or interrogation, the suspensiveness of
+these emotional states is appropriately expressed by rising intonations;
+and hence, too, in all sentences in which the interrogative element is
+strongly present, the rising interval should characterize every syllable
+in it, and the sentences be uttered with interrogative intonations
+throughout. If in any such sentence, a particular word is to be
+especially emphasized, this is effected by giving to the word a low
+radical pitch and retaining the rising interval indicative of
+interrogation.
+
+=The width of the interval= depends, as is natural, upon the intensity
+of the thought or emotion of which the concrete is intended to be an
+expression. For example, suppose the statement, "=You= _are the
+culprit_," be answered by the surprised and indignant interrogation,
+"=I?=" The emphatic words here used may be appropriately uttered with
+intervals of a tone, a third, a fifth, or an octave, according to the
+emphasis supposed necessary.
+
+=The Semitone=, as has been said before, is an interval sometimes heard
+in language of distress, complaint, grief, sorrow, tenderness,
+compassion, pity. Occasionally it is introduced in diatonic melody as an
+appropriate emphatic mode of uttering a single word; as, for example,
+"_Other friends have flown before; on the morrow_ HE _will leave me_."
+At times diction may assume what may be called a _pathetic drift_, and
+for the suitable interpretation of this drift semitonic intervals may be
+used, and the mode of progression cease for a space to be diatonic and
+become semitonic, or _chromatic_, as it is called.
+
+=The Wave= is one of the most impressive of the elements of expression;
+but its proper use demands great flexibility in the vocal organs and a
+high degree of taste in the reader. Like all other unusual modes, its
+employment lends color and contrast to utterance; that is, it makes it
+more effective for the purposes of emphasis or distinction. The wave, as
+has been described, is a concrete with an upward and a downward movement
+united; but its last constituent is that which most affects the ear and
+leaves upon it the stronger impression, and hence, especially if it be
+given with a wide interval, _its dominant characteristic will be that of
+the second movement_; for example, if the second movement be upward, the
+wave may express interrogation mingled with surprise or scorn; if the
+second movement be downward, the wave may express astonishment mingled
+with indignation. The intervals which are given to the wave depend upon
+the diction to which it is applied. To express great surprise or
+vehement indignation it may sweep through a fifth or a whole octave. In
+these extreme modes _the wave frequently is given a wider interval in
+the second movement than in the first_, and its effect intensified by
+the appropriate use of stress, and (for the expression of such emotions
+as scorn, contempt, irony, ridicule, and so on) of the impure qualities
+of voice. When used with intervals of the second, the characteristics of
+direct and inverted forms lose some of their distinctness; but in this
+degree the wave is effectively used to put into relief occasional words,
+or, with median stress and long quantities, to give to the otherwise
+short and tripping character of the second a dignified and impressive
+effect suited to the rendering of all serious and important diction that
+is not impassioned.
+
+=The Wave of the Semitone= is generally employed when time, or syllabic
+quantity, is needed as an element in the expression of the language of
+complaint or pathos. The effect is much the same whether it be direct or
+indirect.
+
+=The Tremor= may be used to express grief, supplication, tenderness, in
+which the interval through which it ranges may be wide, or, for a more
+plaintive effect, be limited to the semitone. With constituent intervals
+other than the semitone (that is, of a tone or otherwise), and ranging
+through an aggregate interval of less or greater width, it may be used
+to express laughter; as, for example, in the utterance of the syllables
+"_ha_, _ha_, _ha_, _ha_, _ha_," which, when rapidly effected, resembles
+one syllable uttered with discrete intervals. Combined with stress,
+aspiration, and guttural vibration, in suitable modifications, this
+laughing tone may be made to express scorn, derision, exultation,
+triumph, and so on.
+
+
+II. FORCE. Force must be considered under two aspects: first, as to the
+_degree of its intensity_ in the utterance of syllables, words, phrases,
+and sentences; and second, as to the _form of its application in the
+utterance of the concrete_. When the term is used without qualification,
+the first of these considerations is intended; when the second is
+intended, force is generally spoken of as =stress=.
+
+_Force must be contradistinguished from loudness._ In mere loudness the
+vocal organs are comparatively relaxed--the intensity of sound being
+produced by the violent discharge of a great volume of air from the
+lungs. In forceful utterance the vocal organs are compressed and tense,
+and though the volume of air effused be small, the resulting
+sound-vibrations are strong, and distinct, and of penetrating power.
+
+In respect of intensity, force may be manifested in infinite variation,
+but the degrees usually spoken of are _very light_, _light_,
+_moderate_, _strong_, and _very strong_. As with all other modes, these
+degrees will vary from word to word, and from sentence to sentence; and
+great judgment and taste must be exercised in employing them, so that
+they appropriately represent the intensity of the thought and feeling of
+which they are to be the expression.
+
+=Moderate Force= is the natural expression of tranquillity, and,
+therefore, of all unimpassioned diction. As the diction becomes pervaded
+by the more positive emotions, the tones of the voice naturally become
+stronger. Certainty requires strong force with pure quality. So all the
+passions, the lighter as well as the more vehement, require the degree
+of force to be heightened: cheerfulness, joy, ecstacy, requiring force
+moderately strong; and anger, hate, terror, revenge, being suitably
+rendered by very strong force. Again, doubt, uncertainty, secrecy, as
+well as the gentler and more plaintive emotions, are most suitably
+represented by the lighter shades of force.
+
+As the voice assumes the intenser modes of force, the vocal organs
+become more and more compressed, and utterance is more and more labored;
+the breath forced out cannot all be vocalized; the voice becomes less
+and less pure, and manifests itself in the aspirate and guttural
+qualities. _Hence, strongly suppressed utterance in impure vocality,
+rather than mere loudness in pure vocality, is the appropriate
+expression for all the intenser passions._
+
+
+III. STRESS. Stress is force considered with respect of the form of its
+application to the concrete. Since the equable concrete is the natural
+colorless expression of unimpassioned thought, force applied to any part
+of it changes its character, and gives it a more or less significant
+emphasis. The three most usual forms of stress are the _radical_, the
+_median_, and the _final_; these may be effected in any of the degrees
+of force. _Compound stress_ and _thorough stress_ admit of but little
+variation.
+
+=Radical Stress=, to some extent an essential, but not an expressive
+element in the equable concrete, is, in a somewhat stronger form, an
+element in all utterance that is intended to be vivid and energetic,
+emphasizing these characteristics by its own incisive clearness. The
+more animated and energetic the diction the clearer and more determined
+should be the opening of the concrete, that is, the more distinct and
+forcible should be its radical stress; while in graver language the
+radical stress is less pronounced. In its emphatic degree it ought at no
+time to be allowed to become a current mode, imparting its peculiar
+incisive character to every syllable; though, for especial emphasis, it
+may be appropriately used in this way in the utterance of the several
+words of a phrase.
+
+=Final Stress= differs from radical stress principally in this, that
+while it equally indicates energy and positiveness, it does so as in
+accordance with predetermination and reflection. _Radical stress
+denotes, as it were, an involuntary state of energy; final stress, the
+energy or fixedness of resolve._ Hence, final stress is appropriate to
+the expression of resolution, of obstinacy, of earnest conviction, of
+passionate resolve. It emphasizes the characteristics of wide intervals,
+giving to rising intonations a more decidedly interrogatory character,
+and making falling intonations more vehemently and passionately
+positive.
+
+=Median Stress=, as it can be effectively applied to none but indefinite
+or mutable syllables, is compatible only with such a rate of utterance
+as will permit of these receiving long quantities. It may receive any
+degree of force, from that gentle swell which indicates a tranquil flow
+of emotion, to that firm and swelling energy which is the appropriate
+expression of the language of elevated feeling. With the wider intervals
+it should be used only for occasional emphasis; but in its lighter forms
+it may prevail as a drift of dignified expression. Median stress, being
+always necessarily associated with long quantity in syllables, is not an
+appropriate mode in the language of colloquy, or in vivacious discourse
+of any kind. It is, however, the fit interpreter of that fervid and
+lofty imagination which clothes itself in forms of grace and grandeur;
+and hence, with intonations and waves of the lesser intervals, with
+medium or low sentential pitch, a moderate degree of force, and the pure
+or orotund quality, it is the appropriate expression of all exalted
+prose and poetry, not strongly dramatic.
+
+=Thorough Stress= is effected by continuing the force and fulness of the
+radical stress throughout the whole concrete. Used as a current mode,
+which should be but rarely, it is expressive of bluntness, arrogance,
+bravado; and, with short quantities, of ignorant coarseness.
+Occasionally it may be used instead of final stress to give emphasis to
+a syllable whose vanishing movement is but little capable of receiving
+an increase of force.
+
+=Compound Stress= combines the qualities of both radical and final
+stress; it is therefore of extreme character, and can be only
+occasionally used. With wide intervals, in its stronger modes, it is
+expressive of the utmost intensity of feeling; in its lighter modes it
+is the natural expression of strong surprise.
+
+=The Loud Concrete= is simply the equable concrete uttered with greater
+fulness of breath and loudness of tone. It is used to break a current of
+light force for the sake of emphasizing some word or phrase; and, in
+impassioned discourse, it may be used as a current mode, individual
+words or phrases being then put in relief by receiving the forcible
+radical, or thorough, or compound stress.
+
+In reference to stress it must be remembered that, as with all other
+varieties of emphatic utterance, no one form should prevail as an
+exclusive mode. Even a prevalent drift of thought or feeling will be
+most effectively rendered by vocal signs which change in color and
+intensity from word to word. It must also be borne in mind in reference
+both to force and stress, and to pitch and time as well, that the modes
+which are employed must sustain a suitable relation to the situation and
+surroundings of the speaker. Where considerable space has to be filled
+and distance overcome, the energy of utterance should be correspondingly
+intense; but for great distances, what is called =level speaking= is the
+only effectual mode,--that is, speaking exclusively in those tones of
+normal pitch in which the voice has most penetrating power, with force
+of almost constant intensity, and in a somewhat slow movement with long
+syllabic quantities, but of course with as much needful variation of
+expression as is possible within these limits.
+
+
+IV. TIME. Time is rate of utterance. It comprehends _quantity_, or rate
+considered in reference to the duration of individual syllables; and
+_movement_, or rate considered in reference to the utterance of
+syllables and words in succession. With it may be considered _pauses_,
+or cessations of the voice, helpful in the expression of thought and
+feeling, and necessary to the working of the vocal mechanism.
+
+=Quantity=, as defined above, is an arbitrary thing, dependent almost
+entirely upon the will of the speaker. But many words and syllables are
+more expressive of their meaning when, in uttering them, the voice is
+somewhat prolonged,--hence _quantity is an element of expression_.
+Again, many words and syllables can receive this prolongation of
+utterance more readily than others,--hence _quantity is a natural
+element of spoken language_. As indefinite syllables are much more
+capable of prolongation than mutable or immutable syllables, they are
+said to possess long quantity, or, more shortly, "to possess quantity";
+mutable syllables possess quantity in a less degree, and immutable
+syllables are naturally deficient in quantity.
+
+As an element of expression, quantity (that is, long quantity) lends
+dignity and grace to the movement of the voice, and affords ground for
+the display of those expressive modes of vocal action which are
+incompatible with the rapid or ejaculatory utterance of the concrete;
+and hence, with median stress, the wave, moderate intervals, medium or
+low sentential pitch, it is used as naturally interpretative of
+solemnity, reverence, awe, deep pathos, ardent admiration, and all
+elevated emotion. Colloquial tones, excited argument, wit, raillery, and
+all the lighter emotions, require for their expression, brilliancy
+rather than grace, and so are more fittingly interpreted by short
+quantities and radical stress.
+
+The discerning reader, in his work of vocal interpretation, will not
+fail to take advantage of the inherent character of syllables with
+respect to quantity. Our language abounds in indefinite syllables to
+which he may impart whatever quantity he may desire. On the other hand,
+immutable syllables, while not admitting the wave and the median stress,
+are eminently fitted to receive the more forcible forms of radical
+stress; and mutable syllables, with their abrupt closes, permit of
+perfect exemplifications of thorough and final stress.
+
+=Movement=, though it depends for its slower and more expressive forms
+upon the capacities of syllables for the reception of long quantities,
+is, in its more rapid forms, quite independent of syllabic structure,
+and dependent only on the will of the speaker; hence it may be spoken of
+as being altogether under his control. A medium rate of utterance is,
+with respect to time, the natural expression of an equable flow of
+thought. The livelier emotions should be indicated by quicker rates, and
+hence, cheerfulness, joy, vivacious dialogue, animated narration,
+naturally find their expression in movements more or less brisk, with
+short quantities, varied intonations, and pitch higher than the normal;
+the more vehement emotions, eagerness, anger, excited anxiety, demand
+simply heightened forms of these modes. Contrariwise, thought of grave
+and meditative character, admiration, reverence, and all the deeper and
+calmer feelings, require a deliberative, slow-timed utterance, with long
+quantities for accented syllables, and extended time for even unaccented
+syllables. As these serious emotions become stronger and deeper, the
+syllabic quantities become proportionately longer, and with impressive
+median swells, orotund quality, low pitch, waves and simple intonations
+of the second, frequent phrases in monotone, and an occasional tremor,
+constitute the most impressive utterance of adoration.
+
+_Occasionally an abrupt change in quantity, or movement, may be employed
+as a mode of emphasis_, either positive or negative; for example, in a
+current of rapid movement, a word may be put into strong relief by being
+uttered with quantity much extended; contrariwise, a parenthetical or
+explanatory phrase is usually touched upon lightly and with a more rapid
+movement than that of the current in which it is found.
+
+=Pause= _may be used as an element in the expression of thought simply,
+that is, as a help to the interpretation of the mere sense of the words
+read_; or, _more emphatically, as an element in the expression of
+feeling and emotion_. As interpretative of thought, pauses should
+correspond mainly with the graphical marks of punctuation. Two things,
+however, must be borne in mind: _first_, the use of punctuation marks in
+writing and in printing is always more or less an arbitrary matter,
+scarcely any two authors agreeing in their employment of them; and
+therefore the reader's own good sense must be to him his principal
+authority as to the closeness with which he follows them: and _second_,
+pauses are to an auditor what punctuation marks are intended to be to a
+reader; but, whereas the eye may constantly keep within its vision the
+relation of each word uttered, both to those which preceded it and to
+those which are to follow, the ear hears the words that are read only
+_ictus_ by _ictus_, stroke by stroke, and therefore can not aid the mind
+to grasp this relation--the memory alone helping to do that; and hence,
+in reading, pauses should be more frequent, and perhaps more prolonged,
+than the punctuation marks might seem to necessitate. The reader should
+also bear in mind that even the plainest and simplest diction, or that
+requiring the most rapid utterance, may be so marked by appropriate
+pauses that those stoppages of the voice necessarily required for
+inspiration, shall never occur except when they assist to interpret the
+sense,--they must not interrupt it.
+
+As interpretative of emotion pauses do not necessarily correspond to
+grammatical structure; but, as with all the modes of expression
+previously considered, their frequency and length--their only
+modifications--must harmonize with the feeling which they are to assist
+in interpreting. In length, for example, they should correspond with the
+movement of which they may be said to form a part; when the movement is
+slow, as in the expression of awe, reverence, and the like, they are
+naturally long; in the brisk movement required to interpret the livelier
+emotions, they should be short. As a mode of emphasis pause serves to
+fix the attention of the hearer,--either _backward_ upon a word or
+phrase, that the mind may dwell upon it, or _forward_ to awaken
+curiosity and expectation: it is evident then that a frequent use of it
+for this purpose would destroy its value.
+
+_Pauses may be used in reading to simulate an appropriate labor of
+utterance_, as when the mind is supposed to be overcome by sorrow, or
+disturbed by anger. At such times also, they serve as fit rests for the
+voice in its efforts to express the disturbed condition of the mind, and
+as appropriate avenues for the escape of emotion otherwise than by
+vocality, as by sibling. _Pauses should be used also to indicate sudden
+transitions from one state of caution to another._
+
+
+
+
+_THE HIGH SCHOOL READER_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I. KING SOLOMON'S PRAYER AND BLESSING AT THE DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE.
+
+_From_ THE FIRST BOOK OF KINGS.
+
+_Translated 1611--Revised 1885._
+
+
+Then Solomon assembled the elders of Israel, and all the heads of the
+tribes, the princes of the fathers' houses of the children of Israel,
+unto king Solomon in Jerusalem, to bring up the ark of the covenant of
+the LORD out of the city of David, which is Zion. And all the men of
+Israel assembled themselves unto king Solomon at the feast, in the month
+Ethanim, which is the seventh month. And all the elders of Israel came,
+and the priests took up the ark. And they brought up the ark of the
+LORD, and the tent of meeting, and all the holy vessels that were in the
+Tent; even these did the priests and the Levites bring up. And king
+Solomon and all the congregation of Israel, that were assembled unto
+him, were with him before the ark, sacrificing sheep and oxen, that
+could not be told nor numbered for multitude. And the priests brought in
+the ark of the covenant of the LORD unto its place, into the oracle of
+the house, to the most holy place, even under the wings of the cherubim.
+For the cherubim spread forth their wings over the place of the ark, and
+the cherubim covered the ark and the staves thereof above. There was
+nothing in the ark save the two tables of stone which Moses put there at
+Horeb, when the LORD made a covenant with the children of Israel, when
+they came out of the land of Egypt. And it came to pass, when the
+priests were come out of the holy place, that the cloud filled the house
+of the LORD, so that the priests could not stand to minister by reason
+of the cloud: for the glory of the LORD filled the house of the LORD.
+
+Then spake Solomon, The LORD hath said that he would dwell in the thick
+darkness. I have surely built thee an house of habitation, a place for
+thee to dwell in for ever. And the king turned his face about, and
+blessed all the congregation of Israel: and all the congregation of
+Israel stood. And he said, Blessed be the LORD, the God of Israel, which
+spake with his mouth unto David my father, and hath with his hand
+fulfilled it, saying, Since the day that I brought forth my people
+Israel out of Egypt, I chose no city out of all the tribes of Israel to
+build an house, that my name might be there; but I chose David to be
+over my people Israel. Now it was in the heart of David my father to
+build an house for the name of the LORD, the God of Israel. But the LORD
+said unto David my father, Whereas it was in thine heart to build an
+house for my name, thou didst well that it was in thine heart:
+nevertheless thou shalt not build the house; but thy son that shall come
+forth out of thy loins, he shall build the house for my name. And the
+LORD hath established his word that he spake; for I am risen up in the
+room of David my father, and sit on the throne of Israel, as the LORD
+promised, and have built the house for the name of the LORD, the God of
+Israel. And there have I set a place for the ark, wherein is the
+covenant of the LORD, which he made with our fathers, when he brought
+them out of the land of Egypt.
+
+And Solomon stood before the altar of the LORD in the presence of all
+the congregation of Israel, and spread forth his hands toward heaven:
+and he said, O LORD, the God of Israel, there is no God like thee, in
+heaven above, or on earth beneath; who keepest covenant and mercy with
+thy servants, that walk before thee with all their heart: who hast kept
+with thy servant David my father that which thou didst promise him: yea,
+thou spakest with thy mouth, and hast fulfilled it with thine hand, as
+it is this day. Now therefore, O LORD, the God of Israel, keep with thy
+servant David my father that which thou hast promised him, saying, There
+shall not fail thee a man in my sight to sit on the throne of Israel; if
+only thy children take heed to their way, to walk before me as thou hast
+walked before me. Now therefore, O God of Israel, let thy word, I pray
+thee, be verified, which thou spakest unto thy servant David my father.
+But will God in very deed dwell on the earth? behold, heaven and the
+heaven of heavens cannot contain thee; how much less this house that I
+have builded! Yet have thou respect unto the prayer of thy servant, and
+to his supplication, O LORD my God, to hearken unto the cry and to the
+prayer which thy servant prayeth before thee this day: that thine eyes
+may be open toward this house night and day, even toward the place
+whereof thou hast said, My name shall be there: to hearken unto the
+prayer which thy servant shall pray toward this place. And hearken thou
+to the supplication of thy servant, and of thy people Israel, when they
+shall pray toward this place: yea, hear thou in heaven thy dwelling
+place: and when thou hearest, forgive. If a man sin against his
+neighbour, and an oath be laid upon him to cause him to swear, and he
+come and swear before thine altar in this house: then hear thou in
+heaven, and do, and judge thy servants, condemning the wicked, to bring
+his way upon his own head; and justifying the righteous, to give him
+according to his righteousness. When thy people Israel be smitten down
+before the enemy, because they have sinned against thee; if they turn
+again to thee, and confess thy name, and pray and make supplication unto
+thee in this house: then hear thou in heaven, and forgive the sin of thy
+people Israel, and bring them again unto the land which thou gavest unto
+their fathers. When heaven is shut up, and there is no rain, because
+they have sinned against thee; if they pray toward this place, and
+confess thy name, and turn from their sin, when thou dost afflict them:
+then hear thou in heaven, and forgive the sin of thy servants, and of
+thy people Israel, when thou teachest them the good way wherein they
+should walk; and send rain upon thy land, which thou hast given to thy
+people for an inheritance. If there be in the land famine, if there be
+pestilence, if there be blasting or mildew, locust or caterpiller; if
+their enemy besiege them in the land of their cities; whatsoever plague,
+whatsoever sickness there be; what prayer and supplication soever be
+made by any man, or by all thy people Israel, which shall know every man
+the plague of his own heart, and spread forth his hands toward this
+house: then hear thou in heaven thy dwelling place, and forgive, and do,
+and render unto every man according to all his ways, whose heart thou
+knowest; (for thou, even thou only, knowest the hearts of all the
+children of men;) that they may fear thee all the days that they live
+in the land which thou gavest unto our fathers. Moreover concerning the
+stranger, that is not of thy people Israel, when he shall come out of a
+far country for thy name's sake; (for they shall hear of thy great name,
+and of thy mighty hand, and of thy stretched out arm:) when he shall
+come and pray toward this house; hear thou in heaven thy dwelling place,
+and do according to all that the stranger calleth to thee for; that all
+the peoples of the earth may know thy name, to fear thee, as doth thy
+people Israel, and that they may know that this house which I have built
+is called by thy name. If thy people go out to battle against their
+enemy, by whatsoever way thou shalt send them, and they pray unto the
+LORD toward the city which thou hast chosen, and toward the house which
+I have built for thy name: then hear thou in heaven their prayer and
+their supplication, and maintain their cause. If they sin against thee,
+(for there is no man that sinneth not,) and thou be angry with them, and
+deliver them to the enemy, so that they carry them away captive unto the
+land of the enemy, far off or near; yet if they shall bethink themselves
+in the land whither they are carried captive, and turn again, and make
+supplication unto thee in the land of them that carried them captive,
+saying, We have sinned, and have done perversely, we have dealt
+wickedly; if they return unto thee with all their heart and with all
+their soul in the land of their enemies, which carried them captive, and
+pray unto thee toward their land, which thou gavest unto their fathers,
+the city which thou hast chosen, and the house which I have built for
+thy name: then hear thou their prayer and their supplication in heaven
+thy dwelling place, and maintain their cause; and forgive thy people
+which have sinned against thee, and all their transgressions wherein
+they have transgressed against thee; and give them compassion before
+those who carried them captive, that they may have compassion on them:
+for they be thy people, and thine inheritance, which thou broughtest
+forth out of Egypt, from the midst of the furnace of iron: that thine
+eyes may be open unto the supplication of thy servant, and unto the
+supplication of thy people Israel, to hearken unto them whensoever
+they cry unto thee. For thou didst separate them from among all the
+peoples of the earth, to be thine inheritance, as thou spakest by
+the hand of Moses thy servant, when thou broughtest our fathers out
+of Egypt, O Lord GOD.
+
+And it was so, that when Solomon had made an end of praying all this
+prayer and supplication unto the LORD, he arose from before the altar of
+the LORD, from kneeling on his knees with his hands spread forth toward
+heaven. And he stood, and blessed all the congregation of Israel with a
+loud voice, saying, Blessed be the LORD, that hath given rest unto his
+people Israel, according to all that he promised: there hath not failed
+one word of all his good promise, which he promised by the hand of Moses
+his servant. The LORD our God be with us, as he was with our fathers:
+let him not leave us, nor forsake us: that he may incline our hearts
+unto him, to walk in all his ways, and to keep his commandments, and his
+statutes, and his judgments, which he commanded our fathers. And let
+these my words, wherewith I have made supplication before the LORD, be
+nigh unto the LORD our God day and night, that he maintain the cause of
+his servant, and the cause of his people Israel, as every day shall
+require: that all the peoples of the earth may know that the LORD, he is
+God; there is none else. Let your heart therefore be perfect with the
+LORD our God, to walk in his statutes, and to keep his commandments, as
+at this day. And the king, and all Israel with him, offered sacrifice
+before the LORD.
+
+
+
+
+II. INVITATION.
+
+_From_ ISAIAH.
+
+_Translated 1611--Revised 1885._
+
+
+Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no
+money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money
+and without price. Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not
+bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently
+unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself
+in fatness. Incline your ear, and come unto me; hear and your soul shall
+live: and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure
+mercies of David....
+
+Seek ye the LORD while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is
+near: let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his
+thoughts: and let him return unto the LORD, and he will have mercy upon
+him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are
+not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD. For as
+the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your
+ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. For as the rain cometh down
+and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the
+earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, and giveth seed to the sower
+and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my
+mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that
+which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. For
+ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and
+the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees
+of the field shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up
+the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree:
+and it shall be to the LORD for a name, for an everlasting sign that
+shall not be cut off.
+
+
+
+
+III. THE TRIAL SCENE IN THE "MERCHANT OF VENICE."[A]
+
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.--1564-1616.
+
+
+_Scene_--A Court of Justice. _Present_--THE DUKE, the Magnificoes,
+ANTONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO, SOLANIO, and others.
+
+_Duke._ What, is Antonio here?
+
+_Antonio._ Ready, so please your grace.
+
+_Duke._ I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer
+A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch
+Uncapable of pity, void and empty
+From any dram of mercy.
+
+_Antonio._         I have heard
+Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify
+His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate,
+And that no lawful means can carry me
+Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose
+My patience to his fury; and am arm'd
+To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
+The very tyranny and rage of his.
+
+_Duke._ Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
+
+_Solanio._ He's ready at the door: he comes, my lord.
+
+_Enter_ SHYLOCK.
+
+_Duke._ Make room, and let him stand before our face.--
+Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
+That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice
+To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought
+Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange
+Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;
+And where thou now exact'st the penalty,--
+Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,--
+Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,
+But, touch'd with human gentleness and love,
+Forgive a moiety of the principal;
+Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
+That have of late so huddled on his back,
+Enough to press a royal merchant down
+And pluck commiseration of his state
+From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,
+From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd
+To offices of tender courtesy.
+We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.
+
+_Shylock._ I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose;
+And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
+To have the due and forfeit of my bond:
+If you deny it, let the danger light
+Upon your charter and your city's freedom.
+You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have
+A weight of carrion flesh than to receive
+Three thousand ducats; I'll not answer that;
+But, say, it is my humor; is it answer'd?
+What if my house be troubled with a rat,
+And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats
+To have it ban'd? What, are you answer'd yet?
+Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
+Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;
+And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose,
+Cannot contain themselves: for affection,
+Master of passion, sways it to the mood
+Of what it likes, or loathes. Now, for your answer:
+As there is no firm reason to be render'd,
+Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;
+Why he, a harmless necessary cat;
+Why he, a woollen bagpipe,--but of force
+Must yield to such inevitable shame
+As to offend, himself being offended;
+So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
+More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing
+I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
+A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd?
+
+_Bassanio._ This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
+To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
+
+_Shylock._ I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
+
+_Bassanio._ Do all men kill the things they do not love?
+
+_Shylock._ Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
+
+_Bassanio._ Every offence is not a hate at first.
+
+_Shylock._ What, would'st thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
+
+_Antonio._ I pray you, think you question with the Jew.
+You may as well go stand upon the beach,
+And bid the main flood bate his usual height;
+You may as well use question with the wolf,
+Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;
+You may as well forbid the mountain pines
+To wag their high tops, and to make no noise,
+When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven;
+You may as well do anything most hard,
+As seek to soften that--than which what's harder?--
+His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,
+Make no more offers, use no further means,
+But, with all brief and plain conveniency,
+Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will.
+
+_Bassanio._ For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
+
+_Shylock._ If every ducat in six thousand ducats
+Were in six parts, and every part a ducat,
+I would not draw them; I would have my bond.
+
+_Duke._ How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none?
+
+_Shylock._ What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?
+You have among you many a purchas'd slave,
+Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules,
+You use in abject and in slavish parts,
+Because you bought them: shall I say to you,
+Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?
+Why sweat they under burdens? let their beds
+Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates
+Be season'd with such viands? You will answer,
+"The slaves are ours:" so do I answer you:
+The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,
+Is dearly bought; 'tis mine, and I will have it:
+If you deny me, fie upon your law!
+There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
+I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?
+
+_Duke._ Upon my power I may dismiss this court,
+Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,
+Whom I have sent for to determine this,
+Come here to-day.
+
+_Solanio._        My lord, here stays without
+A messenger with letters from the doctor,
+New come from Padua.
+
+_Duke._ Bring us the letters; call the messenger.
+
+_Bassanio._ Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!
+The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
+Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.
+
+_Antonio._ I am a tainted wether of the flock,
+Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit
+Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me:
+You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio,
+Than to live still, and write mine epitaph.
+
+_Enter_ NERISSA, _dressed like a lawyer's clerk._
+
+_Duke._ Came you from Padua, from Bellario?
+
+_Nerissa._ From both, my lord: Bellario greets your grace.
+
+[_Presents a letter._
+
+_Bassanio._ Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
+
+_Shylock._ To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.
+
+_Gratiano._ Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
+Thou mak'st thy knife keen; but no metal can,
+No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness
+Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
+
+_Shylock._ No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
+
+_Gratiano._ O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog!
+And for thy life let justice be accus'd.
+Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith,
+To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
+That souls of animals infuse themselves
+Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
+Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,
+Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
+And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
+Infus'd itself in thee; for thy desires
+Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous.
+
+_Shylock._ Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
+Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud:
+Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
+To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.
+_Duke._ This letter from Bellario doth commend
+A young and learned doctor to our court:--
+Where is he?
+
+_Nerissa._ He attendeth here hard by,
+To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.
+
+_Duke._ With all my heart.--Some three or four of you
+Go give him courteous conduct to this place.--
+Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter.
+
+[Clerk reads.] _Your grace shall understand, that, at the receipt of
+your letter, I am very sick: but, in the instant that your messenger
+came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome; his name
+is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the
+Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o'er many books together: he is
+furnished with my opinion: which, bettered with his own learning, the
+greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him, at my
+importunity, to fill up your grace's request in my stead. I beseech you,
+let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend
+estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave
+him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his
+commendation._
+
+_Duke._ You hear the learned Bellario, what he writes:
+And here, I take it, is the doctor come.--
+
+_Enter_ PORTIA, _dressed like a doctor of laws._
+
+Give me your hand: came you from old Bellario?
+
+_Portia._ I did, my lord.
+
+_Duke._                   You are welcome; take your place.
+Are you acquainted with the difference
+That holds this present question in the court?
+
+_Portia._ I am informed, throughly of the cause.
+Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?
+
+_Duke._ Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.
+
+_Portia._ Is your name Shylock?
+
+_Shylock._                      Shylock is my name.
+
+_Portia._ Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;
+Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
+Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.--
+You stand within his danger, do you not?      [_To_ ANTONIO.
+
+_Antonio._ Ay, so he says.
+
+_Portia._                  Do you confess the bond?
+
+_Antonio._ I do.
+
+_Portia._        Then must the Jew be merciful.
+
+_Shylock._ On what compulsion must I? Tell me that.
+
+_Portia._ The quality of mercy is not strain'd;
+It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
+Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd;
+It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
+'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
+The throned monarch better than his crown;
+His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
+The attribute to awe and majesty,
+Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
+But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
+It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
+It is an attribute to God himself;
+And earthly power doth then show likest God's
+When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
+Though justice be thy plea, consider this,--
+That, in the course of justice, none of us
+Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
+And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
+The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
+To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
+Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
+Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.
+
+_Shylock._ My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,
+The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
+
+_Portia._ Is he not able to discharge the money?
+
+_Bassanio._ Yes, here I tender it for him in the court;
+Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,
+I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er,
+On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
+If this will not suffice, it must appear
+That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you,
+Wrest once the law to your authority:
+To do a great right, do a little wrong;
+And curb this cruel devil of his will.
+
+_Portia._ It must not be; there is no power in Venice
+Can alter a decree established:
+'Twill be recorded for a precedent;
+And many an error, by the same example,
+Will rush into the state. It cannot be.
+
+_Shylock._ A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
+O wise young judge, how do I honour thee!
+
+_Portia._ I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
+
+_Shylock._ Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.
+
+_Portia._ Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee.
+
+_Shylock._ An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:
+Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
+No, not for Venice.
+
+_Portia._           Why, this bond is forfeit;
+And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
+A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
+Nearest the merchant's heart.--Be merciful;
+Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.
+
+_Shylock._ When it is paid according to the tenor.
+It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
+You know the law, your exposition
+Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law,
+Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,
+Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear
+There is no power in the tongue of man
+To alter me: I stay here on my bond.
+
+_Antonio._ Most heartily I do beseech the court
+To give the judgment.
+
+_Portia._             Why, then, thus it is:
+You must prepare your bosom for his knife;--
+
+_Shylock._ O noble judge! O excellent young man!
+
+_Portia._--For the intent and purpose of the law
+Hath full relation to the penalty,
+Which here appeareth due upon the bond.
+
+_Shylock._ 'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge!
+How much more elder art thou than thy looks!
+
+_Portia._ Therefore, lay bare your bosom.
+
+_Shylock._                                Ay, his breast:
+So says the bond:--doth it not, noble judge?--
+"Nearest his heart:" those are the very words.
+
+_Portia._ It is so. Are there balance here, to weigh
+The flesh?
+
+_Shylock._ I have them ready.
+
+_Portia._ Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
+To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
+
+_Shylock._ Is it so nominated in the bond?
+
+_Portia._ It is not so express'd; but what of that?
+'Twere good you do so much for charity.
+
+_Shylock._ I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.
+
+_Portia._ Come, merchant, have you anything to say?
+
+_Antonio._ But little: I am arm'd, and well prepar'd.--
+Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!
+Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;
+For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
+Than is her custom: it is still her use
+To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
+To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
+An age of poverty; from which lingering penance
+Of such a misery doth she cut me off.
+Commend me to your honorable wife:
+Tell her the process of Antonio's end;
+Say how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death;
+And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge
+Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
+Repent not you that you shall lose your friend,
+And he repents not that he pays your debt;
+For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
+I'll pay it instantly with all my heart.
+
+_Bassanio._ Antonio, I am married to a wife
+Which is as dear to me as life itself;
+But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
+Are not with me esteem'd above thy life:
+I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
+Here to this devil, to deliver you.
+
+_Portia._ Your wife would give you little thanks for that,
+If she were by, to hear you make the offer.
+
+_Gratiano._ I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love:
+I would she were in heaven, so she could
+Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.
+
+_Nerissa._ 'Tis well you offer it behind her back;
+The wish would make else an unquiet house.
+
+_Shylock._ [_Aside._] These be the Christian husbands! I have a daughter;
+Would any of the stock of Barrabas
+Had been her husband rather than a Christian!--
+[_To_ PORTIA.] We trifle time; I pray thee, pursue sentence.
+
+_Portia._ A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine:
+The court awards it, and the law doth give it.
+
+_Shylock._ Most rightful judge!
+
+_Portia._ And you must cut this flesh from off his breast:
+The law allows it, and the court awards it.
+
+_Shylock._ Most learned judge! A sentence!--Come, prepare.
+
+_Portia._ Tarry a little; there is something else.
+This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
+The words expressly are "a pound of flesh":
+Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;
+But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
+One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
+Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
+Unto the state of Venice.
+
+_Gratiano._ O upright judge!--Mark, Jew:--O learned judge!
+
+_Shylock._ Is that the law?
+
+_Portia._                   Thyself shalt see the act:
+For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd
+Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.
+
+_Gratiano._ O learned judge!--Mark, Jew:--a learned judge!
+
+_Shylock._ I take this offer, then: pay the bond thrice,
+And let the Christian go.
+
+_Bassanio._               Here is the money.
+
+_Portia._ Soft!
+The Jew shall have all justice;--soft! no haste:--
+He shall have nothing but the penalty.
+
+_Gratiano._ O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge!
+
+_Portia._ Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
+Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less nor more
+But just a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more
+Or less than a just pound,--be it but so much
+As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance,
+Or the division of the twentieth part,
+Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn
+But in the estimation of a hair,--
+Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.
+
+_Gratiano._ A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
+Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.
+
+_Portia._ Why doth the Jew pause? Take thy forfeiture.
+
+_Shylock._ Give me my principal, and let me go.
+
+_Bassanio._ I have it ready for thee; here it is.
+
+_Portia._ He hath refus'd it in the open court:
+He shall have merely justice, and his bond.
+
+_Gratiano._ A Daniel, still say I; a second Daniel!--
+I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
+
+_Shylock._ Shall I not have barely my principal?
+
+_Portia._ Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
+To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
+
+_Shylock._ Why, then the devil give him good of it!
+I'll stay no longer question.
+
+_Portia._                     Tarry, Jew:
+The law hath yet another hold on you.
+It is enacted in the laws of Venice,
+If it be prov'd against an alien
+That by direct or indirect attempts
+He seek the life of any citizen,
+The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
+Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
+Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
+And the offender's life lies in the mercy
+Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
+In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st;
+For it appears, by manifest proceeding,
+That, indirectly, and directly too,
+Thou hast contriv'd against the very life
+Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd
+The danger formerly by me rehears'd.
+Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke.
+
+_Gratiano._ Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:
+And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
+Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
+Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.
+
+_Duke._ That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,
+I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
+For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;
+The other half comes to the general state,
+Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.
+
+_Portia._ Ay, for the state; not for Antonio.
+
+_Shylock._ Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that:
+You take my house when you do take the prop
+That doth sustain my house; you take my life,
+When you do take the means whereby I live.
+
+_Portia._ What mercy can you render him, Antonio?
+
+_Gratiano._ A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake.
+
+_Antonio._ So please my lord the duke, and all the court,
+To quit the fine for one half of his goods,
+I am content, so he will let me have
+The other half in use, to render it,
+Upon his death, unto the gentleman
+That lately stole his daughter:
+Two things provided more,--that, for this favor,
+He presently become a Christian;
+The other, that he do record a gift,
+Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,
+Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.
+
+_Duke._ He shall do this; or else I do recant
+The pardon that I late pronounced here.
+
+_Portia._ Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say?
+
+_Shylock._ I am content.
+
+_Portia._                Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
+
+_Shylock._ I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
+I am not well: send the deed after me,
+And I will sign it.
+
+_Duke._             Get thee gone, but do it.
+
+_Gratiano._ In christening thou shalt have two godfathers;
+Had I been judge, thou should'st have had ten more,
+To bring thee to the gallows, not the font.      [_Exit Shylock._
+
+_Duke._ Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.
+
+_Portia._ I humbly do desire your grace of pardon:
+I must away this night toward Padua,
+And it is meet I presently set forth.
+
+_Duke._ I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
+Antonio, gratify this gentleman,
+For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.
+
+[_Exeunt omnes._
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] As an introduction read "The Merchant of Venice," FOURTH READER,
+page 311.
+
+
+
+
+IV. OF BOLDNESS.
+
+LORD BACON.--1561-1626.
+
+_From_ ESSAYS.
+
+
+It is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy a wise man's
+consideration: question was asked of Demosthenes, what was the chief
+part of an orator? He answered, action: what next? action: what next
+again? action. He said it that knew it best, and had by nature himself
+no advantage in that he commended. A strange thing, that that part of an
+orator which is but superficial, and rather the virtue of a player,
+should be placed so high above those other noble parts, of invention,
+elocution, and the rest; nay, almost alone, as if it were all in all.
+But the reason is plain. There is in human nature generally more of the
+fool than of the wise; and therefore those faculties by which the
+foolish part of men's minds is taken, are most potent. Wonderful like is
+the case of boldness in civil business; what first? boldness: what
+second and third? boldness. And yet boldness is a child of ignorance and
+baseness, far inferior to other parts: but, nevertheless, it doth
+fascinate, and bind hand and foot those that are either shallow in
+judgment or weak in courage, which are the greatest part; yea, and
+prevaileth with wise men at weak times; therefore we see it hath done
+wonders in popular states, but with senates and princes less; and more,
+ever upon the first entrance of bold persons into action, than soon
+after; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise. Surely, as there are
+mountebanks for the natural body, so are there mountebanks for the
+politic body--men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have been
+lucky in two or three experiments, but want the grounds of science, and
+therefore cannot hold out. Nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times
+do Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people believe that he would call
+a hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers for the
+observers of his law. The people assembled: Mahomet called the hill to
+come to him again and again; and when the hill stood still, he was never
+a whit abashed, but said, "If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet
+will go to the hill." So these men, when they have promised great
+matters, and failed most shamefully, yet, if they have the perfection of
+boldness, they will but slight it over, and make a turn, and no more
+ado. Certainly, to men of great judgment, bold persons are sport to
+behold; nay, and to the vulgar also boldness hath somewhat of the
+ridiculous: for, if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not
+but great boldness is seldom without some absurdity; especially it is a
+sport to see when a bold fellow is out of countenance, for that puts his
+face into a most shrunken and wooden posture, as needs it must--for in
+bashfulness the spirits do a little go and come--but with bold men, upon
+like occasion, they stand at a stay; like a stale at chess, where it is
+no mate, but yet the game cannot stir: but this last were fitter for a
+satire than for a serious observation. This is well to be weighed, that
+boldness is ever blind, for it seeth not dangers and inconveniences:
+therefore it is ill in counsel, good in execution; so that the right use
+of bold persons is, that they never command in chief, but be seconds,
+and under the direction of others; for in counsel it is good to see
+dangers, and in execution not to see them, except they be very great.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _He that cannot see well, let him go softly._
+
+        BACON.
+
+
+
+
+V. TO DAFFODILS.
+
+ROBERT HERRICK.--1594-1674.
+
+
+    Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
+      You haste away so soon;
+    As yet the early-rising sun
+      Has not attain'd his noon.
+                  Stay, stay,
+          Until the hasting day
+                  Has run
+          But to the even-song;
+    And, having pray'd together, we
+          Will go with you along.
+
+    We have short time to stay, as you;
+      We have as short a spring;
+    As quick a growth to meet decay,
+      As you, or anything.
+                  We die
+          As your hours do, and dry
+                  Away,
+      Like to the summer's rain;
+    Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
+          Ne'er to be found again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Stone walls do not a prison make,
+      Nor iron bars a cage;
+    Minds innocent and quiet take
+    That for a hermitage:
+    If I have freedom in my love,
+      And in my soul am free,
+    Angels alone, that soar above,
+      Enjoy such liberty._
+
+        RICHARD LOVELACE.--1618-1658.
+
+
+
+
+VI. OF CONTENTEDNESS IN ALL ESTATES AND ACCIDENTS.
+
+JEREMY TAYLOR.--1613-1667.
+
+_From_ HOLY LIVING.
+
+
+Virtues and discourses are, like friends, necessary in all fortunes; but
+those are the best, which are friends in our sadnesses, and support us
+in our sorrows and sad accidents: and in this sense, no man that is
+virtuous can be friendless; nor hath any man reason to complain of the
+Divine Providence, or accuse the public disorder of things, or in his
+own infelicity, since God hath appointed one remedy for all the evils in
+the world, and that is a contented spirit: for this alone makes a man
+pass through fire, and not be scorched; through seas, and not be
+drowned; through hunger and nakedness, and want nothing. For since all
+the evil in the world consists in the disagreeing between the object and
+the appetite, as when a man hath what he desires not, or desires what he
+hath not, or desires amiss; he that composes his spirit to the present
+accident, hath variety of instances for his virtue, but none to trouble
+him, because his desires enlarge not beyond his present fortune: and a
+wise man is placed in the variety of chances, like the nave or centre of
+a wheel, in the midst of all the circumvolutions and changes of posture,
+without violence or change, save that it turns gently in compliance with
+its changed parts, and is indifferent which part is up, and which is
+down; for there is some virtue or other to be exercised, whatever
+happens, either patience or thanksgiving, love or fear, moderation or
+humility, charity or contentedness, and they are every one of them
+equally in order to his great end and immortal felicity: and beauty is
+not made by white or red, by black eyes and a round face, by a straight
+body and a smooth skin; but by a proportion to the fancy. No rules can
+make amiability; our minds and apprehensions make that: and so is our
+felicity; and we may be reconciled to poverty and a low fortune, if we
+suffer contentedness and the grace of God to make the proportions. For
+no man is poor that does not think himself so: but if, in a full
+fortune, with impatience he desires more, he proclaims his wants and his
+beggarly condition. But because this grace of contentedness was the sum
+of all the old moral philosophy, and a great duty in Christianity, and
+of most universal use in the whole course of our lives, and the only
+instrument to ease the burdens of the world and the enmities of sad
+chances, it will not be amiss to press it by the proper arguments by
+which God hath bound it upon our spirits; it being fastened by reason
+and religion, by duty and interest, by necessity and conveniency, by
+example, and by the proposition of excellent rewards, no less than peace
+and felicity.
+
+Contentedness in all estates is a duty of religion; it is the great
+reasonableness of complying with the Divine Providence, which governs
+all the world, and hath so ordered us in the administration of his great
+family. He were a strange fool that should be angry because dogs and
+sheep need no shoes, and yet himself is full of care to get some. God
+hath supplied those needs to them by natural provisions, and to thee by
+an artificial: for he hath given thee reason to learn a trade, or some
+means to make or buy them, so that it only differs in the manner of our
+provision: and which had you rather want, shoes or reason? and my
+patron, that hath given me a farm, is freer to me than if he gives a
+loaf ready baked. But, however, all these gifts come from him, and
+therefore it is fit he should dispense them as he pleases; and if we
+murmur here, we may, at the next melancholy, be troubled that God did
+not make us to be angels or stars. For if that which we are or have do
+not content us, we may be troubled for every thing in the world which is
+beside our being or our possessions.
+
+God is the master of the scenes; we must not choose which part we shall
+act; it concerns us only to be careful that we do it well, always
+saying, "If this please God, let it be as it is:" and we, who pray that
+God's will may be done in earth as it is in heaven, must remember that
+the angels do whatsoever is commanded them, and go wherever they are
+sent, and refuse no circumstances; and if their employment be crossed by
+a higher decree, they sit down in peace, and rejoice in the event; and
+when the angel of Judea could not prevail in behalf of the people
+committed to his charge, because the angel of Persia opposed it, he only
+told the story at the command of God, and was as content, and worshipped
+with as great an ecstasy in his proportion, as the prevailing spirit. Do
+thou so likewise: keep the station where God hath placed you, and you
+shall never long for things without, but sit at home, feasting upon the
+Divine Providence and thy own reason, by which we are taught that it is
+necessary and reasonable to submit to God.
+
+For is not all the world God's family? Are not we his creatures? Are we
+not as clay in the hand of the potter? Do we not live upon his meat, and
+move by his strength, and do our work by his light? Are we any thing but
+what we are from him? And shall there be a mutiny among the flocks and
+herds, because their lord or their shepherd chooses their pastures, and
+suffers them not to wander into deserts and unknown ways? If we choose,
+we do it so foolishly that we cannot like it long, and most commonly not
+at all: but God, who can do what he pleases, is wise to choose safely
+for us, affectionate to comply with our needs, and powerful to execute
+all his wise decrees. Here, therefore, is the wisdom of the contented
+man, to let God choose for him; for when we have given up our wills to
+him, and stand in that station of the battle where our great General
+hath placed us, our spirits must needs rest while our conditions have
+for their security the power, the wisdom, and the charity of God.
+
+Contentedness in all accidents brings great peace of spirit, and is the
+great and only instrument of temporal felicity. It removes the sting
+from the accident, and makes a man not to depend upon chance and the
+uncertain dispositions of men for his well-being, but only on God and
+his own spirit. We ourselves make our fortunes good or bad; and when God
+lets loose a tyrant upon us, or a sickness, or scorn, or a lessened
+fortune, if we fear to die, or know not to be patient, or are proud or
+covetous, then the calamity sits heavy on us. But if we know how to
+manage a noble principle, and fear not death so much as a dishonest
+action, and think impatience a worse evil than a fever, and pride to be
+the biggest disgrace, and poverty to be infinitely desirable before the
+torments of covetousness; then we who now think vice to be so easy, and
+make it so familiar, and think the cure so impossible, shall quickly be
+of another mind, and reckon these accidents amongst things eligible.
+
+But no man can be happy that hath great hopes and great fears of things
+without, and events depending upon other men, or upon the chances of
+fortune. The rewards of virtue are certain, and our provisions for our
+natural support are certain; or if we want meat till we die, then we die
+of that disease--and there are many worse than to die with an atrophy or
+consumption, or unapt and coarser nourishment. But he that suffers a
+transporting passion concerning things within the power of others, is
+free from sorrow and amazement no longer than his enemy shall give him
+leave; and it is ten to one but he shall be smitten then and there where
+it shall most trouble him; for so the adder teaches us where to strike,
+by her curious and fearful defending of her head. The old Stoics, when
+you told them of a sad story, would still answer, "_What is that to
+me?_" Yes, for the tyrant hath sentenced you also to prison. Well, what
+is that? He will put a chain upon my leg; but he cannot bind my soul.
+No; but he will kill you. Then I will die. If presently, let me go, that
+I may presently be freer than himself: but if not till anon, or
+to-morrow, I will dine first, or sleep, or do what reason or nature
+calls for, as at other times. This, in Gentile philosophy, is the same
+with the discourse of St. Paul, "I have learned, in whatsoever state I
+am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know
+how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed, both to be
+full and to be hungry; both to abound and suffer need."
+
+We are in the world like men playing at tables; the chance is not in our
+power, but to play it is; and when it is fallen we must manage it as we
+can: and let nothing trouble us, but when we do a base action, or speak
+like a fool, or think wickedly,--these things God hath put into our
+powers; but concerning those things which are wholly in the choice of
+another, they cannot fall under our deliberation, and therefore neither
+are they fit for our passions. My fear may make me miserable, but it
+cannot prevent what another hath in his power and purpose; and
+prosperities can only be enjoyed by them who fear not at all to lose
+them; since the amazement and passion concerning the future takes off
+all the pleasure of the present possession. Therefore, if thou hast lost
+thy land, do not also lose thy constancy; and if thou must die a little
+sooner, yet do not die impatiently. For no chance is evil to him that is
+content: and to a man nothing is miserable unless it be unreasonable. No
+man can make another man to be his slave unless he hath first enslaved
+himself to life and death, to pleasure or pain, to hope or fear: command
+these passions, and you are freer than the Parthian kings.
+
+
+
+
+VII. TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.
+
+RICHARD LOVELACE.--1618-1658.
+
+
+    Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,
+      That from the nunnery
+    Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
+      To war and arms I fly.
+
+    True, a new mistress now I chase,
+      The first foe in the field;
+    And with a stronger faith embrace
+      A sword, a horse, a shield.
+
+    Yet this inconstancy is such
+      As you, too, shall adore,--
+    I could not love thee, dear, so much,
+      Lov'd I not honor more.
+
+
+
+
+VIII. ANGLING.
+
+IZAAK WALTON.--1593-1683.
+
+_From_ THE COMPLETE ANGLER.
+
+
+_Venator._--O my good master, this morning walk has been spent to my
+great pleasure and wonder; but I pray, when shall I have your direction
+how to make artificial flies, like to those that the trout loves best,
+and also how to use them?
+
+_Piscator._--My honest scholar, it is now past five of the clock; we
+will fish till nine, and then go to breakfast. Go you to yon
+sycamore-tree, and hide your bottle of drink under the hollow root of
+it; for about that time, and in that place, we will make a brave
+breakfast with a piece of powdered beef, and a radish or two, that I
+have in my fish-bag: we shall, I warrant you, make a good, honest,
+wholesome, hungry breakfast, and I will then give you direction for the
+making and using of your flies; and in the meantime, there is your rod
+and line, and my advice is, that you fish as you see me do, and let's
+try which can catch the first fish.
+
+_Venator._--I thank you, master; I will observe and practise your
+direction as far as I am able.
+
+_Piscator._--Look you, scholar, you see I have hold of a good fish: I
+now see it is a trout. I pray put that net under him, and touch not my
+line, for if you do, then we break all. Well done, scholar! I thank you.
+
+Now for another. Trust me, I have another bite: come, scholar, come, lay
+down your rod, and help me to land this as you did the other. So now we
+shall be sure to have a good dish for supper.
+
+_Venator._--I am glad of that; but I have no fortune: sure, master,
+yours is a better rod and better tackling.
+
+_Piscator._--Nay, then, take mine; and I will fish with yours. Look you,
+scholar, I have another. Come, do as you did before. And now I have a
+bite at another. Oh me! he has broke all: there's half a line and a good
+hook lost.
+
+_Venator._--Ay, and a good trout too.
+
+_Piscator._--Nay, the trout is not lost; for pray take notice, no man
+can lose what he never had.
+
+_Venator._--Master, I can neither catch with the first nor second angle:
+I have no fortune.
+
+_Piscator._--Look you, scholar, I have yet another. And now, having
+caught two brace of trouts, I will tell you a short tale as we walk
+towards our breakfast. A scholar, a preacher I should say, that was to
+preach to procure the approbation of a parish that he might be their
+lecturer, had got from his fellow-pupil the copy of a sermon that was
+first preached with great commendation by him that composed it; and
+though the borrower of it preached it, word for word, as it was at
+first, yet it was utterly disliked as it was preached by the second to
+his congregation; which the sermon borrower complained of to the lender
+of it; and thus was answered: "I lent you, indeed, my fiddle, but not my
+fiddle-stick; for you are to know, that every one cannot make music with
+my words, which are fitted to my own mouth." And so, my scholar, you are
+to know, that as the ill pronunciation or ill accenting of words in a
+sermon spoils it, so the ill carriage of your line, or not fishing even
+to a foot in a right place, makes you lose your labor; and you are to
+know, that though you have my fiddle, that is, my very rod and tacklings
+with which you see I catch fish, yet you have not my fiddle-stick, that
+is, you yet have not skill to know how to carry your hand and line, nor
+how to guide it to a right place; and this must be taught you; for you
+are to remember, I told you angling is an art, either by practice or a
+long observation, or both. But take this for a rule: when you fish for a
+trout with a worm, let your line have so much and not more lead than
+will fit the stream in which you fish; that is to say, more in a great
+troublesome stream than in a smaller that is quieter; as near as may be,
+so much as will sink the bait to the bottom, and keep it still in
+motion, and not more.
+
+But now let's say grace and fall to breakfast. What say you, scholar, to
+the providence of an old angler? does not this meat taste well? and was
+not this place well chosen to eat it? for this sycamore-tree will shade
+us from the sun's heat.
+
+_Venator._--All excellent good, and my stomach excellent good too. And
+now I remember and find that true which devout Lessius says: "That poor
+men, and those that fast often, have much more pleasure in eating than
+rich men and gluttons, that always feed before their stomachs are empty
+of their last meal, and call for more; for by that means they rob
+themselves of that pleasure that hunger brings to poor men." And I do
+seriously approve of that saying of yours, "that you would rather be a
+civil, well-governed, well-grounded, temperate, poor angler, than a
+drunken lord." But I hope there is none such: however, I am certain of
+this, that I have been at many very costly dinners that have not
+afforded me half the content that this has done, for which I thank God
+and you.
+
+And now, good master, proceed to your promised direction for making and
+ordering my artificial fly.
+
+_Piscator_.--My honest scholar, I will do it; for it is a debt due unto
+you by my promise....
+
+... Look how it begins to rain!--and by the clouds, if I mistake not, we
+shall presently have a smoking shower, and therefore sit close: this
+sycamore-tree will shelter us; and I will tell you, as they shall come
+into my mind, more observations of fly-fishing for a trout....
+
+... And now, scholar, my direction for fly-fishing is ended with this
+shower, for it has done raining: and now look about you, and see how
+pleasantly that meadow looks; nay, and the earth smells as sweetly too.
+Come, let me tell you what holy Mr. Herbert says of such days and
+flowers as these; and then we will thank God that we enjoy them, and
+walk to the river and sit down quietly, and try to catch the other brace
+of trouts.
+
+    Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
+    The bridal of the earth and sky:
+    The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
+                          For thou must die.
+
+    Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
+    Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
+    Thy root is ever in its grave;
+                          And thou must die.
+
+    Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses,
+    A box where sweets compacted lie;
+    Thy music shows ye have your closes;
+                          And all must die.
+
+    Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
+    Like season'd timber, never gives;
+    But, though the whole world turn to coal,
+                          Then chiefly lives.
+
+_Venator._--I thank you, good master, for your good direction for
+fly-fishing, and for the sweet enjoyment of the pleasant day, which is
+so far spent without offence to God or man; and I thank you for the
+sweet close of your discourse with Mr. Herbert's verses, who, I have
+heard, loved angling; and I do the rather believe it, because he had a
+spirit suitable to anglers, and to those primitive Christians that you
+love and have so much commended.
+
+_Piscator._--Well, my loving scholar, and I am pleased to know that you
+are so well pleased with my direction and discourse.... And now, I think
+it will be time to repair to our angle-rods, which we left in the water
+to fish for themselves: and you shall choose which shall be yours; and
+it is an even lay, one of them catches.
+
+And, let me tell you, this kind of fishing with a dead rod, and laying
+night-hooks, are like putting money to use; for they both work for the
+owners, when they do nothing but sleep, or eat, or rejoice; as you know
+we have done this last hour, and sat as quietly, and as free from cares
+under this sycamore, as Virgil's Tityrus and his Meliboeus did, under
+their broad beech tree. No life, my honest scholar, no life so happy and
+so pleasant, as the life of a well-governed angler; for when the lawyer
+is swallowed up with business, and the statesman is preventing or
+contriving plots, then we sit on cowslip banks, hear the birds sing, and
+possess ourselves in as much quietness as these silent silver streams,
+which we now see glide so quietly by us. Indeed, my good scholar, we may
+say of angling as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, "Doubtless, God
+could have made a better berry, but doubtless, God never did;" and so,
+if I might be judge, "God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent
+recreation than angling."
+
+
+
+
+IX. ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.
+
+(1629).
+
+JOHN MILTON.--1608-1674.
+
+
+I.
+
+    This is the month, and this the happy morn,
+    Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King,
+    Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,
+    Our great redemption from above did bring;
+    For so the holy sages once did sing,
+      That he our deadly forfeit should release,
+    And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
+
+
+II.
+
+    That glorious form, that light unsufferable,
+    And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,
+    Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table
+    To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,
+    He laid aside; and, here with us to be,
+      Forsook the courts of everlasting day,
+    And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.
+
+
+III.
+
+    Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein
+    Afford a present to the Infant God?
+    Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,
+    To welcome him to this his new abode,
+    Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod,
+      Hath took no print of the approaching light,
+    And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
+
+
+IV.
+
+    See how from far upon the eastern road
+    The star-led wizards haste with odors sweet!
+    O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
+    And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;
+    Have thou the honor first thy Lord to greet,
+      And join thy voice unto the Angel Choir,
+    From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE HYMN.
+
+
+1.
+
+    It was the winter wild,
+    While the Heaven-born child,
+      All meanly wrapt, in the rude manger lies;
+    Nature, in awe to him,
+    Had doff'd her gaudy trim,
+      With her great Master so to sympathize:
+    It was no season then for her
+    To wanton with the Sun, her lusty paramour.
+
+
+2.
+
+    Only, with speeches fair,
+    She woos the gentle Air
+      To hide her guilty front with innocent snow,
+    And on her naked shame,
+    Pollute with sinful blame,
+      The saintly veil of maiden white to throw;
+    Confounded, that her Maker's eyes
+    Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
+
+
+3.
+
+    But he, her fears to cease,
+    Sent down the meek-ey'd Peace:
+      She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding
+    Down through the turning sphere,
+    His ready harbinger,
+      With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;
+    And, waving wide her myrtle wand,
+    She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.
+
+
+4.
+
+    No war, or battle's sound,
+    Was heard the world around:
+      The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
+    The hooked chariot stood,
+    Unstain'd with hostile blood;
+      The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
+    And kings sat still with awful eye,
+    As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
+
+
+5.
+
+    But peaceful was the night
+    Wherein the Prince of Light
+      His reign of peace upon the earth began:
+    The winds, with wonder whist,
+    Smoothly the waters kiss'd,
+      Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean,
+    Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
+    While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
+
+
+6.
+
+    The stars, with deep amaze,
+    Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze,
+      Bending one way their precious influence;
+    And will not take their flight,
+    For all the morning light,
+      Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence;
+    But in their glimmering orbs did glow,
+    Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
+
+
+7.
+
+    And, though the shady gloom
+    Had given day her room,
+    The Sun himself withheld his wonted speed;
+      And hid his head for shame,
+    As his inferior flame
+      The new-enlighten'd world no more should need;
+    He saw a greater Sun appear
+    Than his bright throne or burning axletree could bear.
+
+
+8.
+
+    The shepherds on the lawn,
+    Or ere the point of dawn,
+      Sat simply chatting in a rustic row;
+    Full little thought they then
+    That the mighty Pan
+      Was kindly come to live with them below:
+    Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,
+    Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.
+
+
+9.
+
+    When such music sweet
+    Their hearts and ears did greet,
+      As never was by mortal finger strook,
+    Divinely-warbled voice
+    Answering the stringed noise,
+      As all their souls in blissful rapture took:
+    The Air, such pleasure loth to lose,
+    With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.
+
+
+10.
+
+    Nature, that heard such sound
+    Beneath the hollow round
+      Of Cynthia's seat, the Airy region thrilling,
+    Now was almost won
+    To think her part was done,
+      And that her reign had here its last fulfilling:
+    She knew such harmony alone
+    Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.
+
+
+11.
+
+    At last surrounds their sight
+    A globe of circular light,
+      That with long beams the shame-faced Night array'd;
+    The helmed cherubim,
+    And sworded seraphim,
+      Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd,
+    Harping in loud and solemn choir,
+    With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-born Heir.
+
+
+12.
+
+    Such music (as 'tis said)
+    Before was never made,
+      But when of old the Sons of Morning sung,
+    While the Creator great
+    His constellations set,
+      And the well-balanced world on hinges hung,
+    And cast the dark foundations deep,
+    And bid the welt'ring waves their oozy channel keep.
+
+
+13.
+
+    Ring out, ye crystal spheres!
+    Once bless our human ears,
+      (If ye have power to touch our senses so,)
+    And let your silver chime
+    Move in melodious time;
+      And let the bass of Heaven's deep organ blow;
+    And with your ninefold harmony
+    Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.
+
+
+14.
+
+    For, if such holy song
+    Enwrap our fancy long,
+      Time will run back, and fetch the Age of Gold;
+    And speckled Vanity
+    Will sicken soon and die;
+      And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould;
+    And Hell itself will pass away,
+    And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.
+
+
+15.
+
+    Yea, Truth and Justice then
+    Will down return to men,
+      Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
+    Mercy will sit between,
+    Thron'd in celestial sheen,
+      With radiant feet the tissu'd clouds down steering;
+    And Heaven, as at some festival,
+    Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall.
+
+
+16.
+
+    But wisest Fate says, No,
+    This must not yet be so;
+      The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy,
+    That on the bitter cross
+    Must redeem our loss;
+      So both himself and us to glorify:
+    Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep,
+    The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.
+
+
+17.
+
+    With such a horrid clang
+    As on Mount Sinai rang,
+      While the red fire and smould'ring clouds out brake:
+    The aged Earth, aghast,
+    With terror of that blast,
+      Shall from the surface to the centre shake;
+    When, at the world's last session,
+    The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.
+
+
+18.
+
+    And then at last our bliss
+    Full and perfect is,
+      But now begins; for from this happy day
+    The Old Dragon under ground,
+    In straiter limits bound,
+      Not half so far casts his usurped sway;
+    And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,
+    Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.
+
+
+19.
+
+    The Oracles are dumb;
+    No voice or hideous hum
+      Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
+    Apollo from his shrine
+    Can no more divine,
+      With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
+    No nightly trance, or breathed spell,
+    Inspires the pale-ey'd priest from the prophetic cell.
+
+
+20.
+
+    The lonely mountains o'er,
+    And the resounding shore,
+      A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
+    From haunted spring, and dale
+    Edg'd with poplar pale,
+      The parting Genius is with sighing sent;
+    With flower-inwoven tresses torn
+    The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
+
+
+21.
+
+    In consecrated earth,
+    And on the holy hearth,
+      The Lars, and Lemures, moan with midnight plaint;
+    In urns, and altars round,
+    A drear and dying sound
+      Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;
+    And the chill marble seems to sweat,
+    While each peculiar Power forgoes his wonted seat.
+
+
+22.
+
+    Peor, and Baaelim,
+    Forsake their temples dim,
+      With that twice-batter'd God of Palestine;
+    And mooned Ashtaroth,
+    Heaven's queen and mother both,
+      Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine:
+    The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn;
+    In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.
+
+
+23.
+
+    And sullen Moloch, fled,
+    Hath left in shadows dread,
+      His burning idol all of blackest hue
+    In vain with cymbals' ring
+    They call the grisly king,
+      In dismal dance about the furnace blue;
+    The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
+    Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.
+
+
+24.
+
+    Nor is Osiris seen
+    In Memphian grove or green,
+      Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud;
+    Nor can he be at rest
+    Within his sacred chest;
+      Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud;
+    In vain, with timbrell'd anthems dark,
+    The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark.
+
+
+25.
+
+    He feels from Juda's land
+    The dreaded Infant's hand;
+      The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
+    Nor all the gods beside
+    Longer dare abide,
+      Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:
+    Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,
+    Can in his swaddling bands control the damned crew.
+
+
+26.
+
+    So, when the sun in bed,
+    Curtain'd with cloudy red,
+      Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
+    The flocking shadows pale
+    Troop to the infernal jail,
+      Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave;
+    And the yellow-skirted fays
+    Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.
+
+
+27.
+
+    But see! the Virgin blest
+    Hath laid her Babe to rest.
+      Time is our tedious song should here have ending:
+    Heaven's youngest-teemed star,
+    Hath fix'd her polish'd car,
+      Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;
+    And all about the courtly stable
+    Bright-harness'd Angels sit in order serviceable.
+
+
+
+
+X. CHARACTER OF LORD FALKLAND.
+
+LORD CLARENDON.--1608-1674.
+
+_From_ HISTORY OF THE REBELLION.
+
+
+In this unhappy battle [of Newbury] was slain the Lord Viscount
+Falkland; a person of such prodigious parts of learning and knowledge,
+of that inimitable sweetness and delight in conversation, of so flowing
+and obliging a humanity and goodness to mankind, and of that primitive
+simplicity and integrity of life, that if there were no other brand upon
+this odious and accursed civil war, than that single loss, it must be
+most infamous, and execrable to all posterity.
+
+Before this parliament, his condition of life was so happy that it was
+hardly capable of improvement. Before he came to be twenty years of age,
+he was master of a noble fortune, which descended to him by the gift of
+a grandfather, without passing through his father or mother, who were
+then both alive, and not well enough contented to find themselves passed
+by in the descent. His education for some years had been in Ireland,
+where his father was lord-deputy; so that, when he returned into
+England, to the possession of his fortune, he was unentangled with any
+acquaintance or friends, which usually grow up by the custom of
+conversation; and therefore was to make a pure election of his company;
+which he chose by other rules than were prescribed to the young nobility
+of that time. And it cannot be denied, though he admitted some few to
+his friendship for the agreeableness of their natures, and their
+undoubted affection to him, that his familiarity and friendship, for the
+most part, was with men of the most eminent and sublime parts, and of
+untouched reputation in point of integrity; and such men had a title to
+his bosom.
+
+He was a great cherisher of wit, and fancy, and good parts in any man;
+and, if he found them clouded with poverty or want, a most liberal and
+bountiful patron towards them, even above his fortune; of which, in
+those administrations, he was such a dispenser, as, if he had been
+trusted with it to such uses, and if there had been the least of vice in
+his expense, he might have been thought too prodigal. He was constant
+and pertinacious in whatsoever he resolved to do, and not to be wearied
+by any pains that were necessary to that end. And, therefore, having
+once resolved not to see London, which he loved above all places, till
+he had perfectly learned the Greek tongue, he went to his own house in
+the country, and pursued it with that indefatigable industry, that it
+will not be believed in how short a time he was master of it, and
+accurately read all the Greek historians.
+
+In this time, his house being within little more than ten miles of
+Oxford, he contracted familiarity and friendship with the most polite
+and accurate men of that university; who found such an immenseness of
+wit, and such a solidity of judgment in him, so infinite a fancy, bound
+in by a most logical ratiocination, such a vast knowledge, that he was
+not ignorant in anything, yet such an excessive humility, as if he had
+known nothing, that they frequently resorted and dwelt with him, as in a
+college situated in a purer air; so that his house was a university in a
+less volume; whither they came not so much for repose as study; and to
+examine and refine those grosser propositions, which laziness and
+consent made current in vulgar conversation....
+
+He was superior to all those passions and affections which attend vulgar
+minds, and was guilty of no other ambition than of knowledge, and to be
+reputed a lover of all good men; and that made him too much a contemner
+of those arts, which must be indulged in the transactions of human
+affairs....
+
+He had a courage of the most clear and keen temper, and so far from
+fear, that he seemed not without some appetite of danger; and therefore,
+upon any occasion of action, he always engaged his person in those
+troops which he thought, by the forwardness of the commanders, to be
+most like to be farthest engaged; and in all such encounters, he had
+about him an extraordinary cheerfulness, without at all affecting the
+execution that usually attended them; in which he took no delight, but
+took pains to prevent it, where it was not by resistance made necessary:
+insomuch that at Edge-hill, when the enemy was routed, he was like to
+have incurred great peril, by interposing to save those who had thrown
+away their arms, and against whom, it may be, others were more fierce
+for their having thrown them away: so that a man might think he came
+into the field chiefly out of curiosity to see the face of danger, and
+charity to prevent the shedding of blood. Yet, in his natural
+inclination, he acknowledged he was addicted to the profession of a
+soldier; and shortly after he came to his fortune, before he was of
+age, he went into the Low Countries, with a resolution of procuring
+command, and to give himself up to it; from which he was diverted by the
+complete inactivity of that summer; so he returned into England, and
+shortly after entered upon that vehement course of study we mentioned
+before, till the first alarm from the north; then again he made ready
+for the field, and though he received some repulse in the command of a
+troop of horse, of which he had a promise, he went a volunteer with the
+earl of Essex.
+
+From the entrance into this unnatural war, his natural cheerfulness and
+vivacity grew clouded, and a kind of sadness and dejection of spirit
+stole upon him, which he had never been used to; yet being one of those
+who believed that one battle would end all differences, and that there
+would be so great a victory on one side, that the other would be
+compelled to submit to any conditions from the victor--which supposition
+and conclusion generally sunk into the minds of most men, and prevented
+the looking after many advantages that might then have been laid hold
+of--he resisted those indispositions. But after the king's return from
+Brentford, and the furious resolution of the two Houses not to admit any
+treaty for peace, those indispositions, which had before touched him,
+grew into a perfect habit of uncheerfulness; and he, who had been so
+exactly unreserved and affable to all men, that his face and countenance
+was always present, and vacant, to his company, and held any cloudiness,
+and less pleasantness of the visage, a kind of rudeness or incivility,
+became, on a sudden, less communicable; and thence, very sad, pale, and
+exceedingly affected with the spleen. In his clothes and habit, which he
+had minded before always with more neatness, and industry, and expense,
+than is usual to so great a soul, he was not now only incurious, but too
+negligent; and in his reception of suitors, and the necessary or casual
+addresses to his place, so quick, and sharp, and severe, that there
+wanted not some men--strangers to his nature and disposition--who
+believed him proud and imperious; from which no mortal man was ever more
+free....
+
+When there was any overture or hope of peace, he would be more erect and
+vigorous, and exceedingly solicitous to press anything which he thought
+might promote it; and sitting among his friends, often, after a deep
+silence, and frequent sighs, would, with a shrill and sad accent,
+ingeminate the word _Peace, Peace_; and would passionately profess,
+"that the very agony of the war, and the view of the calamities and
+desolation the kingdom did and must endure, took his sleep from him, and
+would shortly break his heart." This made some think, or pretend to
+think, "that he was so much enamoured of peace, that he would have been
+glad the king should have bought it at any price;" which was a most
+unreasonable calumny. As if a man, that was himself the most punctual
+and precise in every circumstance that might reflect upon conscience or
+honor, could have wished the king to have committed a trespass against
+either....
+
+In the morning before the battle, as always upon action, he was very
+cheerful, and put himself into the first rank of the Lord Byron's
+regiment, then advancing upon the enemy, who had lined the hedges on
+both sides with musketeers; from whence he was shot with a musket in the
+lower part of the belly, and in the instant falling from his horse, his
+body was not found till the next morning; till when, there was some
+hope he might have been a prisoner; though his nearest friends, who knew
+his temper, received small comfort from that imagination. Thus fell that
+incomparable young man, in the four-and-thirtieth year of his age,
+having so much despatched the true business of life, that the oldest
+rarely attain to that immense knowledge, and the youngest enter not into
+the world with more innocency: whosoever leads such a life, needs be the
+less anxious upon how short warning it is taken from him.
+
+
+
+
+XI. VENI, CREATOR SPIRITUS.
+
+JOHN DRYDEN.--1631-1700.
+
+
+    Creator Spirit, by whose aid
+    The world's foundations first were laid,
+    Come, visit every pious mind;
+    Come, pour thy joys on humankind;
+    From sin and sorrow set us free,
+    And make thy temples worthy thee.
+
+      O source of uncreated light,
+    The Father's promis'd Paraclete!
+    Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
+    Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
+    Come, and thy sacred unction bring
+    To sanctify us, while we sing.
+
+      Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
+    Rich in thy sevenfold energy!
+    Thou strength of his Almighty hand,
+    Whose power does heaven and earth command;
+    Proceeding Spirit, our defence,
+    Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
+    And crown'st thy gift with eloquence.
+
+      Refine and purge our earthy parts;
+    But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
+    Our frailties help, our vice control,
+    Submit the senses to the soul;
+    And when rebellious they are grown,
+    Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.
+
+      Chase from our minds the infernal foe,
+    And peace, the fruit of Love, bestow;
+    And lest our feet should step astray,
+    Protect and guide us in the way.
+
+      Make us eternal truths receive,
+    And practise all that we believe:
+    Give us thy self, that we may see
+    The Father and the Son by thee.
+
+      Immortal honor, endless fame,
+    Attend the Almighty Father's name:
+    The Saviour Son be glorified,
+    Who for lost man's redemption died:
+    And equal adoration be,
+    Eternal Paraclete, to thee!
+
+
+
+
+XII. LINES PRINTED UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF MILTON.
+
+DRYDEN.
+
+
+    Three poets, in three distant ages born,
+    Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
+    The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd,
+    The next in majesty, in both the last.
+    The force of Nature could no farther go;
+    To make a third she join'd the former two.
+
+
+
+
+XIII. REASON.
+
+DRYDEN.
+
+_From_ RELIGIO LAICI.
+
+
+    Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars
+    To lonely, weary, wandering travellers,
+    Is Reason to the soul; and as on high
+    Those rolling fires discover but the sky,
+    Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray
+    Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,
+    But guide us upward to a better day
+    And as those nightly tapers disappear,
+    When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;
+    So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;
+    So dies, and so dissolves, in supernatural light.
+
+
+
+
+XIV. ON THE LOVE OF COUNTRY AS A PRINCIPLE OF ACTION.
+
+RICHARD STEELE.--1672-1729.
+
+_From_ THE TATLER, June 10, 1710.
+
+
+When men look into their own bosoms, and consider the generous seeds
+which are there planted, that might, if rightly cultivated, ennoble
+their lives, and make their virtue venerable to futurity; how can they,
+without tears, reflect on the universal degeneracy from that public
+spirit, which ought to be the first and principal motive of all their
+actions? In the Grecian and Roman nations, they were wise enough to keep
+up this great incentive, and it was impossible to be in the fashion
+without being a patriot. All gallantry had its first source from hence;
+and to want a warmth for the public welfare, was a defect so scandalous,
+that he who was guilty of it had no pretence to honor or manhood. What
+makes the depravity among us, in this behalf, the more vexatious and
+irksome to reflect upon, is, that the contempt of life is carried as far
+amongst us, as it could be in those memorable people; and we want only a
+proper application of the qualities which are frequent among us, to be
+as worthy as they. There is hardly a man to be found who will not fight
+upon any occasion, which he thinks may taint his own honor. Were this
+motive as strong in everything that regards the public, as it is in this
+our private case, no man would pass his life away without having
+distinguished himself by some gallant instance of his zeal towards it in
+the respective incidents of his life and profession. But it is so far
+otherwise, that there cannot at present be a more ridiculous animal,
+than one who seems to regard the good of others. He, in civil life,
+whose thoughts turn upon schemes which may be of general benefit,
+without further reflection, is called a projector; and the man whose
+mind seems intent upon glorious achievements, a knight-errant. The
+ridicule among us runs strong against laudable actions; nay, in the
+ordinary course of things, and the common regards of life, negligence of
+the public is an epidemic vice. The brewer in his excise, the merchant
+in his customs, and, for aught we know, the soldier in his muster-rolls,
+think never the worse of themselves for being guilty of their respective
+frauds towards the public. This evil is come to such a fantastical
+height, that he is a man _of_ a public spirit, and heroically affected
+to his country, who can go so far as even to turn usurer with all he
+has in her funds. There is not a citizen in whose imagination such a one
+does not appear in the same light of glory, as Codrus, Scaevola, or any
+other great name in old Rome. Were it not for the heroes of so much _per
+cent._ as have regard enough for themselves and their nation to trade
+with her with their wealth, the very notion of public love would long
+ere now have vanished from among us. But however general custom may
+hurry us away in the stream of a common error, there is no evil, no
+crime, so great as that of being cold in matters relating to the common
+good. This is in nothing more conspicuous than in a certain willingness
+to receive anything that tends to the diminution of such as have been
+conspicuous instruments in our service. Such inclinations proceed from
+the most low and vile corruption, of which the soul of man is capable.
+This effaces not only the practice, but the very approbation of honor
+and virtue; and has had such an effect, that, to speak freely, the very
+sense of public good has no longer a part even in our conversations. Can
+then the most generous motive of life, the good of others, be so easily
+banished the breast of man? Is it possible to draw all our passions
+inward? Shall the boiling heat of youth be sunk in pleasures, the
+ambition of manhood in selfish intrigues? Shall all that is glorious,
+all that is worth the pursuit of great minds, be so easily rooted out?
+When the universal bent of a people seems diverted from the sense of
+their common good, and common glory, it looks like a fatality, and
+crisis of impending misfortune.
+
+The generous nations we just now mentioned understood this so very well,
+that there was hardly an oration ever made, which did not turn upon
+this general sense, "That the love of their country was the first and
+most essential quality in an honest mind." Demosthenes, in a cause
+wherein his fame, reputation, and fortune, were embarked, puts his all
+upon this issue; "Let the Athenians," says he, "be benevolent to me, as
+they think I have been zealous for them." This great and discerning
+orator knew, there was nothing else in nature could bear him up against
+his adversaries, but this one quality of having shown himself willing or
+able to serve his country. This certainly is the test of merit; and the
+first foundation for deserving good-will is, having it yourself. The
+adversary of this orator at that time was AEschines, a man of wily arts
+and skill in the world, who could, as occasion served, fall in with a
+national start of passion, or sullenness of humor, which a whole nation
+is sometimes taken with as well as a private man; and by that means
+divert them from their common sense, into an aversion for receiving
+anything in its true light. But when Demosthenes had awakened his
+audience with that one hint of judging by the general tenor of his life
+towards them, his services bore down his opponent before him, who fled
+to the covert of his mean arts, until some more favorable opportunity
+should offer against the superior merit of Demosthenes.
+
+It were to be wished, that love of their country were the first
+principle of action in men of business, even for their own sakes; for
+when the world begins to examine into their conduct, the generality, who
+have no share in, or hopes of any part in power or riches, but what is
+the effect of their own labor or prosperity, will judge of them by no
+other method, than that of how profitable their administration has been
+to the whole. They who are out of the influence of men's fortune or
+favor, will let them stand or fall by this one only rule; and men who
+can bear being tried by it, are always popular in their fall. Those, who
+cannot suffer such a scrutiny, are contemptible in their advancement.
+
+But I am here running into shreds of maxims from reading Tacitus this
+morning, which has driven me from my recommendation of public spirit,
+which was the intended purpose of this lucubration. There is not a more
+glorious instance of it, than in the character of Regulus. This same
+Regulus was taken prisoner by the Carthaginians, and was sent by them to
+Rome, in order to demand some Punic noblemen, who were prisoners, in
+exchange for himself; and was bound by an oath that he would return to
+Carthage, if he failed in his commission. He proposes this to the
+senate, who were in suspense upon it, which Regulus observing, without
+having the least notion of putting the care of his own life in
+competition with the public good, desired them to consider that he was
+old, and almost useless; that those demanded in exchange were men of
+daring tempers, and great merit in military affairs; and wondered they
+would make any doubt of permitting him to go back to the short tortures
+prepared for him at Carthage, where he should have the advantage of
+ending a long life both gloriously and usefully. This generous advice
+was consented to; and he took his leave of his country and his weeping
+friends, to go to certain death, with that cheerful composure, as a man,
+after the fatigue of business in a court or a city, retires to the next
+village for the air.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _When the heart is right there is true patriotism_.
+
+        BISHOP BERKELEY.--1684-1753.
+
+
+
+
+XV. THE GOLDEN SCALES.
+
+JOSEPH ADDISON.--1672-1719.
+
+_From_ THE SPECTATOR, August 21, 1712.
+
+
+I was lately entertaining myself with comparing Homer's balance, in
+which Jupiter is represented as weighing the fates of Hector and
+Achilles, with a passage of Virgil, wherein that deity is introduced as
+weighing the fates of Turnus and AEneas. I then considered how the same
+way of thinking prevailed in the eastern parts of the world, as in those
+noble passages of Scripture, where we are told, that the great king of
+Babylon, the day before his death, had been weighed in the balance, and
+been found wanting. In other places of the holy writings the Almighty is
+described as weighing the mountains in scales, making the weight for the
+winds, knowing the balancings of the clouds; and, in others, as weighing
+the actions of men, and laying their calamities together in a balance.
+Milton, as I have observed in a former paper, had an eye to several of
+these foregoing instances, in that beautiful description wherein he
+represents the archangel and the evil spirit as addressing themselves
+for the combat, but parted by the balance which appeared in the heavens,
+and weighed the consequences of such a battle.
+
+    The Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray,
+    Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales, yet seen
+    Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign,
+    Wherein all things created first he weigh'd,
+    The pendulous round earth with balanced air
+    In counterpoise; now ponder; all events,
+    Battles and realms: in these he puts two weights,
+    The sequel each of parting and of fight:
+    The latter quick up flew, and kick'd the beam;
+    Which Gabriel spying, thus bespake the fiend.
+
+    "Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st mine,
+    Neither our own, but given; what folly then
+    To boast what arms can do! since thine no more
+    Than Heaven permits; nor mine, though doubled now
+    To trample thee as mire: for proof look up,
+    And read thy lot in yon celestial sign,
+    Where thou art weigh'd, and shewn how light, how weak,
+    If thou resist." The fiend look'd up and knew
+    His mounted scale aloft; nor more: but fled
+    Murm'ring, and with him fled the shades of night.
+
+These several amusing thoughts having taken possession of my mind some
+time before I went to sleep, and mingling themselves with my ordinary
+ideas, raised in my imagination a very odd kind of vision. I was,
+methought, replaced in my study, and seated in my elbow-chair, where I
+had indulged the foregoing speculations, with my lamp burning by me, as
+usual. Whilst I was here meditating on several subjects of morality, and
+considering the nature of many virtues and vices, as materials for those
+discourses with which I daily entertain the public; I saw, methought, a
+pair of golden scales hanging by a chain in the same metal over the
+table that stood before me; when, on a sudden, there were great heaps of
+weights thrown down on each side of them. I found upon examining these
+weights, they showed the value of everything that is in esteem among
+men. I made an essay of them, by putting the weight of wisdom in one
+scale, and that of riches in another, upon which the latter, to show its
+comparative lightness, immediately "flew up and kicked the beam."
+
+But, before I proceed, I must inform my reader, that these weights did
+not exert their natural gravity, till they were laid in the golden
+balance, insomuch that I could not guess which was light or heavy,
+whilst I held them in my hand. This I found by several instances, for
+upon my laying a weight in one of the scales, which was inscribed by the
+word Eternity; though I threw in that of time, prosperity, affliction,
+wealth, poverty, interest, success, with many other weights, which in my
+hand seemed very ponderous, they were not able to stir the opposite
+balance, nor could they have prevailed, though assisted with the weight
+of the sun, the stars, and the earth.
+
+Upon emptying the scales, I laid several titles and honors, with pomps,
+triumphs, and many weights of the like nature, in one of them, and
+seeing a little glittering weight lie by me, I threw it accidentally
+into the other scale, when, to my great surprise, it proved so exact a
+counterpoise, that it kept the balance in an equilibrium. This little
+glittering weight was inscribed upon the edges of it with the word
+Vanity. I found there were several other weights which were equally
+heavy, and exact counterpoises to one another; a few of them I tried, as
+avarice and poverty, riches and content, with some others.
+
+There were likewise several weights that were of the same figure, and
+seemed to correspond with each other, but were entirely different when
+thrown into the scales, as religion and hypocrisy, pedantry and
+learning, wit and vivacity, superstition and devotion, gravity and
+wisdom, with many others.
+
+I observed one particular weight lettered on both sides, and upon
+applying myself to the reading of it, I found on one side written "_In
+the dialect of men_," and underneath it, "CALAMITIES;" on the other side
+was written, "_In the language of the gods_," and underneath,
+"BLESSINGS." I found the intrinsic value of this weight to be much
+greater than I imagined, for it overpowered health, wealth,
+good-fortune, and many other weights, which were much more ponderous in
+my hand than the other.
+
+There is a saying among the Scotch, that "an ounce of mother is worth a
+pound of clergy;" I was sensible of the truth of this saying, when I saw
+the difference between the weight of natural parts and that of learning.
+The observation which I made upon these two weights opened to me a new
+field of discoveries, for notwithstanding the weight of natural parts
+was much heavier than that of learning, I observed that it weighed an
+hundred times heavier than it did before, when I put learning into the
+same scale with it. I made the same observation upon faith and morality;
+for notwithstanding the latter outweighed the former separately, it
+received a thousand times more additional weight from its conjunction
+with the former, than what it had by itself. This odd phenomenon showed
+itself in other particulars, as in wit and judgment, philosophy and
+religion, justice and humanity, zeal and charity, depth of sense and
+perspicuity of style, with innumerable other particulars, too long to be
+mentioned in this paper.
+
+As a dream seldom fails of dashing seriousness with impertinence, mirth
+with gravity, methought I made several other experiments of a more
+ludicrous nature, by one of which I found that an English octavo was
+very often heavier than a French folio; and by another, that an old
+Greek or Latin author weighed down a whole library of moderns. Seeing
+one of my _Spectators_ lying by me, I laid it into one of the scales,
+and flung a twopenny piece in the other. The reader will not inquire
+into the event, if he remembers the first trial which I have recorded in
+this paper. I afterwards threw both the sexes into the balance; but as
+it is not for my interest to disoblige either of them, I shall desire to
+be excused from telling the result of this experiment. Having an
+opportunity of this nature in my hands, I could not forbear throwing
+into one scale the principles of a Tory, and in the other those of a
+Whig; but as I have all along declared this to be a neutral paper, I
+shall likewise desire to be silent under this head also, though upon
+examining one of the weights, I saw the word TEKEL engraven on it in
+capital letters.
+
+I made many other experiments, and though I have not room for them all
+in this day's speculation, I may perhaps reserve them for another. I
+shall only add, that upon my awaking I was sorry to find my golden
+scales vanished, but resolved for the future to learn this lesson from
+them, not to despise or value any things for their appearances, but to
+regulate my esteem and passions towards them according to their real and
+intrinsic value.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _It must be so--Plato, thou reasonest well!--
+    Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
+    This longing after immortality?
+    Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
+    Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
+    Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
+    'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
+    'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
+    And intimates eternity to man._
+
+        _From Cato._--ADDISON.
+
+
+
+
+XVI. MISJUDGED HOSPITALITY.
+
+JONATHAN SWIFT.--1667-1745.
+
+_From_ THE TATLER, March 6, 1711.
+
+_Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes
+Emollit mores._
+
+OVID.
+
+
+Those inferior duties of life which the French call _les petites
+morales_, or the smaller morals, are with us distinguished by the name
+of good manners or breeding. This I look upon, in the general notion of
+it, to be a sort of artificial good sense, adapted to the meanest
+capacities, and introduced to make mankind easy in their commerce with
+each other. Low and little understandings, without some rules of this
+kind, would be perpetually wandering into a thousand indecencies and
+irregularities in behavior; and in their ordinary conversation, fall
+into the same boisterous familiarities that one observeth amongst them
+when a debauch hath quite taken away the use of their reason. In other
+instances, it is odd to consider, that for want of common discretion,
+the very end of good breeding is wholly perverted; and civility,
+intended to make us easy, is employed in laying chains and fetters upon
+us, in debarring us of our wishes, and in crossing our most reasonable
+desires and inclinations. This abuse reigneth chiefly in the country, as
+I found to my vexation, when I was last there, in a visit I made to a
+neighbor about two miles from my cousin. As soon as I entered the
+parlor, they put me into the great chair that stood close by a huge
+fire, and kept me there by force, until I was almost stifled. Then a boy
+came in great hurry to pull off my boots, which I in vain opposed,
+urging that I must return soon after dinner. In the meantime, the good
+lady whispered her eldest daughter, and slipped a key into her hand. The
+girl returned instantly with a beer-glass half full of _aqua mirabilis_
+and syrup of gillyflowers. I took as much as I had a mind for; but madam
+avowed I should drink it off--for she was sure it would do me good,
+after coming out of the cold air--and I was forced to obey; which
+absolutely took away my stomach. When dinner came in, I had a mind to
+sit at a distance from the fire; but they told me it was as much as my
+life was worth, and set me with my back just against it. Although my
+appetite was quite gone, I resolved to force down as much as I could;
+and desired the leg of a pullet. "Indeed, Mr. Bickerstaff," says the
+lady, "you must eat a wing, to oblige me;" and so put a couple upon my
+plate. I was persecuted at this rate during the whole meal. As often as
+I called for small-beer, the master tipped the wink, and the servant
+brought me a brimmer of October. Some time after dinner, I ordered my
+cousin's man, who came with me, to get ready the horses; but it was
+resolved I should not stir that night; and when I seemed pretty much
+bent upon going, they ordered the stable door to be locked; and the
+children hid my cloak and boots. The next question was, what I would
+have for supper. I said I never ate anything at night; but was at last,
+in my own defence, obliged to name the first thing that came into my
+head. After three hours spent chiefly in apologies for my entertainment,
+insinuating to me, "that this was the worst time of the year for
+provisions; that they were at a great distance from any market; that
+they were afraid I should be starved; and that they knew they kept me to
+my loss," the lady went, and left me to her husband--for they took
+special care I should never be alone. As soon as her back was turned,
+the little misses ran backward and forward every moment; and constantly
+as they came in, or went out, made a courtesy directly at me, which, in
+good manners, I was forced to return with a bow, and, "Your humble
+servant, pretty miss." Exactly at eight the mother came up, and
+discovered by the redness of her face that supper was not far off. It
+was twice as large as the dinner, and my persecution doubled in
+proportion. I desired, at my usual hour, to go to my repose, and was
+conducted to my chamber by the gentleman, his lady, and the whole train
+of children. They importuned me to drink something before I went to bed;
+and upon my refusing, at last left a bottle of _stingo_, as they called
+it, for fear I should wake and be thirsty in the night. I was forced in
+the morning to rise and dress myself in the dark, because they would not
+suffer my kinsman's servant to disturb me at the hour I desired to be
+called. I was now resolved to break through all measures to get away;
+and after sitting down to a monstrous breakfast of cold beef, mutton,
+neats' tongues, venison-pasty, and stale-beer, took leave of the family.
+But the gentleman would needs see me part of my way, and carry me a
+short-cut through his own grounds, which he told me would save half a
+mile's riding. This last piece of civility had like to have cost me
+dear, being once or twice in danger of my neck, by leaping over his
+ditches, and at last forced to alight in the dirt; when my horse, having
+slipped his bridle, ran away, and took us up more than an hour to
+recover him again. It is evident that none of the absurdities I met with
+in this visit proceeded from an ill intention, but from a wrong judgment
+of complaisance, and a misapplication in the rules of it.
+
+
+
+
+XVII. FROM THE "ESSAY ON MAN."[B]
+
+ALEXANDER POPE.--1688-1744.
+
+
+    Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate,
+    All but the page prescrib'd, their present state;
+    From brutes what men, from men what spirits know;
+    Or who could suffer being here below?
+    The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
+    Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
+    Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flowery food,
+    And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
+    O blindness to the future! kindly given,
+    That each may fill the circle mark'd by heaven;
+    Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
+    A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,
+    Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,
+    And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
+      Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
+    Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore.
+    What future bliss he gives not thee to know,
+    But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
+    Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
+    Man never is, but always to be, blest.
+    The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
+    Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
+      Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
+    Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
+    His soul proud science never taught to stray
+    Far as the solar walk, or milky way;
+    Yet simple nature to his hope has given,
+    Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heaven;
+    Some safer world in depth of woods embraced,
+    Some happier island in the watery waste,
+    Where slaves once more their native land behold,
+    No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
+    To be, contents his natural desire;
+    He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire;
+    But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,
+    His faithful dog shall bear him company.
+
+      What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread,
+    Or hand, to toil, aspir'd to be the head?
+    What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd
+    To serve mere engines to the ruling mind?
+    Just as absurd for any part to claim
+    To be another, in this general frame;
+    Just as absurd to mourn the tasks or pains
+    The great directing Mind of All ordains.
+      All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
+    Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;
+    That changed through all, and yet in all the same,
+    Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame,
+    Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
+    Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;
+    Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
+    Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
+    Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
+    As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
+    As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,
+    As the rapt seraph that adores and burns:
+    To him no high, no low, no great, no small;
+    He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
+
+      All nature is but art unknown to thee;
+    All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;
+    All discord, harmony not understood;
+    All partial evil, universal good:
+    And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
+    One truth is clear, _Whatever is, is right_.
+
+      Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
+    As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
+    Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
+    We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
+
+      Virtuous and vicious every man must be,
+    Few in the extreme, but all in the degree:
+    The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise;
+    And even the best by fits what they despise.
+
+      Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
+    Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw:
+    Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
+    A little louder, but as empty quite:
+    Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
+    And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age:
+    Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before,
+    Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
+
+      Has God, thou fool! work'd solely for thy good
+    Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food?
+    Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,
+    For him as kindly spreads the flowery lawn.
+    Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings?
+    Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings.
+    Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat?
+    Loves of his own and raptures swell the note.
+    The bounding steed you pompously bestride
+    Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride.
+    Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain?
+    The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain.
+    Thine the full harvest of the golden year?
+    Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer.
+    The hog, that ploughs not, nor obeys thy call,
+    Lives on the labors of this lord of all.
+      Know, Nature's children all divide her care;
+    The fur that warms a monarch warm'd a bear.
+    While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!"
+    "See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose:
+    And just as short of reason he must fall,
+    Who thinks all made for one, not one for all.
+
+      For forms of government let fools contest;
+    Whate'er is best administer'd is best:
+    For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
+    His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
+    In faith and hope the world will disagree,
+    But all mankind's concern is charity:
+    All must be false that thwart this one great end,
+    And all of God that bless mankind or mend.
+
+      Honor and shame from no condition rise;
+    Act well your part, there all the honor lies.
+    Fortune in men has some small difference made,
+    One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade;
+    The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd,
+    The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
+    "What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl?"
+    I'll tell you, friend, a wise man and a fool.
+    You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,
+    Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk,
+    Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow;
+    The rest is all but leather or prunello.
+
+      Go! if your ancient but ignoble blood
+    Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood,
+    Go! and pretend your family is young,
+    Nor own your fathers have been fools so long.
+    What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?
+    Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
+
+      Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
+    Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
+    Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
+    Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,
+    Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
+    Like Socrates,--that man is great indeed.
+
+    An honest man's the noblest work of God.
+
+    Know then this truth (enough for man to know),
+    "Virtue alone is happiness below."
+
+    ... Never elated while one man's oppress'd;
+    Never dejected while another's bless'd....[C]
+
+    See the sole bliss heaven could on all bestow!
+    Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know:
+    Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,
+    The bad must miss, the good untaught will find:
+    Slave to no sect, who takes no private road,
+    But looks through nature up to nature's God;
+    Pursues that chain which links the immense design,
+    Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine:
+    Sees that no being any bliss can know,
+    But touches some above and some below;
+    Learns from this union of the rising whole,
+    The first, last purpose of the human soul;
+    And knows where faith, law, morals, all began,
+    All end, in love of God and love of man.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[B] If the _Essay on Man_ were shivered into fragments, it would not
+lose its value: for it is precisely its details which constitute its
+moral as well as literary beauties.--A. W. WARD, _quoted by_ MARK
+PATTISON.
+
+
+[C] In these two lines, which, so far as I know, are the most
+complete, the most concise, and the most lofty expressions of moral
+temper existing in English words, Pope sums the law of noble life.
+
+RUSKIN, _Lectures on Art_.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII. RULE, BRITANNIA.
+
+JAMES THOMSON.--1700-1748.
+
+
+    When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
+      Arose from out the azure main,
+    This was the charter of the land,
+      And guardian angels sang this strain:
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    The nations not so blest as thee,
+      Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall,
+    Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and free,
+      The dread and envy of them all.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
+      More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
+    As the loud blast that tears the skies,
+      Serves but to root thy native oak.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
+      All their attempts to bend thee down
+    Will but arouse thy generous flame,
+      But work their woe and thy renown.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    To thee belongs the rural reign;
+      Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
+    All thine shall be the subject main,
+      And every shore it circles thine.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+    The Muses, still with freedom found,
+      Shall to thy happy coast repair;
+    Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown'd,
+      And manly hearts to guard the fair.
+          Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
+          Britons never will be slaves!
+
+
+
+
+XIX. THE FIRST CRUSADE.
+
+DAVID HUME.--1711-1776.
+
+_From_ HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
+
+
+After Mahomet had, by means of his pretended revelations, united the
+dispersed Arabians under one head, they issued forth from their deserts
+in great multitudes; and being animated with zeal for their new
+religion, and supported by the vigor of their new government, they made
+deep impression on the eastern empire, which was far in the decline,
+with regard both to military discipline and to civil policy. Jerusalem,
+by its situation, became one of their most early conquests; and the
+Christians had the mortification to see the holy sepulchre, and the
+other places, consecrated by the presence of their religious founder,
+fallen into the possession of infidels. But the Arabians or Saracens
+were so employed in military enterprises, by which they spread their
+empire in a few years from the banks of the Ganges to the Straits of
+Gibraltar, that they had no leisure for theological controversy: and
+though the Alcoran, the original monument of their faith, seems to
+contain some violent precepts, they were much less infected with the
+spirit of bigotry and persecution than the indolent and speculative
+Greeks, who were continually refining on the several articles of their
+religious system. They gave little disturbance to those zealous
+pilgrims, who daily flocked to Jerusalem; and they allowed every man,
+after paying a moderate tribute, to visit the holy sepulchre, to perform
+his religious duties, and to return in peace. But the Turcomans or
+Turks, a tribe of Tartars, who had embraced Mahometanism, having wrested
+Syria from the Saracens, and having, in the year 1065, made themselves
+masters of Jerusalem, rendered the pilgrimage much more difficult and
+dangerous to the Christians. The barbarity of their manners, and the
+confusions attending their unsettled government, exposed the pilgrims to
+many insults, robberies, and extortions: and these zealots, returning
+from their meritorious fatigues and sufferings, filled all Christendom
+with indignation against the infidels, who profaned the holy city by
+their presence, and derided the sacred mysteries in the very place of
+their completion. Gregory VII., among the other vast ideas which he
+entertained, had formed the design of uniting all the Western Christians
+against the Mahometans; but the egregious and violent invasions of that
+pontiff on the civil power of princes, had created him so many enemies,
+and had rendered his schemes so suspicious, that he was not able to make
+great progress in this undertaking. The work was reserved for a meaner
+instrument, whose low condition in life exposed him to no jealousy, and
+whose folly was well calculated to coincide with the prevailing
+principles of the times.
+
+Peter, commonly called the Hermit, a native of Amiens in Picardy, had
+made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Being deeply affected with the dangers
+to which that act of piety now exposed the pilgrims, as well as with the
+instances of oppression under which the Eastern Christians labored, he
+entertained the bold, and, in all appearance, impracticable project of
+leading into Asia, from the farthest extremities of the West, armies
+sufficient to subdue those potent and warlike nations which now held the
+holy city in subjection. He proposed his views to Martin II., who filled
+the papal chair, and who, though sensible of the advantages which the
+head of the Christian religion must reap from a religious war, and
+though he esteemed the blind zeal of Peter a proper means for effecting
+the purpose, resolved not to interpose his authority, till he saw a
+greater probability of success. He summoned a council at Placentia,
+which consisted of four thousand ecclesiastics, and thirty thousand
+seculars; and which was so numerous that no hall could contain the
+multitude, and it was necessary to hold the assembly in a plain. The
+harangues of the Pope, and of Peter himself, representing the dismal
+situation of their brethren in the East, and the indignity suffered by
+the Christian name, in allowing the holy city to remain in the hands of
+infidels, here found the minds of men so well prepared, that the whole
+multitude suddenly and violently declared for the war, and solemnly
+devoted themselves to perform this service, so meritorious, as they
+believed it, to God and religion.
+
+But though Italy seemed thus to have zealously embraced the enterprise,
+Martin knew, that, in order to insure success, it was necessary to
+enlist the greater and more warlike nations in the same engagement; and
+having previously exhorted Peter to visit the chief cities and
+sovereigns of Christendom, he summoned another council at Clermont in
+Auvergne. The fame of this great and pious design being now universally
+diffused, procured the attendance of the greatest prelates, nobles, and
+princes; and when the Pope and the Hermit renewed their pathetic
+exhortations, the whole assembly, as if impelled by an immediate
+inspiration, not moved by their preceding impressions, exclaimed with
+one voice, _It is the will of God, It is the will of God!_--words deemed
+so memorable, and so much the result of a divine influence, that they
+were employed as the signal of rendezvous and battle in all the future
+exploits of those adventurers. Men of all ranks flew to arms with the
+utmost ardor; and an exterior symbol, too, a circumstance of chief
+moment, was here chosen by the devoted combatants. The sign of the
+cross, which had been hitherto so much revered among Christians, and
+which, the more it was an object of reproach among the Pagan world, was
+the more passionately cherished by them, became the badge of union, and
+was affixed to their right shoulder, by all who enlisted themselves in
+this sacred warfare.
+
+Europe was at this time sunk into profound ignorance and superstition.
+The ecclesiastics had acquired the greatest ascendant over the human
+mind: the people, who, being little restrained by honor, and less by
+law, abandoned themselves to the worst crimes and disorders, knew of no
+other expiation than the observances imposed on them by their spiritual
+pastors: and it was easy to represent the holy war as an equivalent for
+all penances, and an atonement for every violation of justice and
+humanity. But amidst the abject superstition which now prevailed, the
+military spirit also had universally diffused itself; and though not
+supported by art or discipline, was become the general passion of the
+nations governed by the feudal law. All the great lords possessed the
+right of peace and war: they were engaged in perpetual hostilities with
+each other: the open country was become a scene of outrage and disorder:
+the cities, still mean and poor, were neither guarded by walls nor
+protected by privileges, and were exposed to every insult: individuals
+were obliged to depend for safety on their own force, or their private
+alliances: and valor was the only excellence which was held in esteem,
+or gave one man the pre-eminence above another. When all the particular
+superstitions, therefore, were here united in one great object, the
+ardor for military enterprises took the same direction; and Europe,
+impelled by its two ruling passions, was loosened, as it were, from its
+foundations, and seemed to precipitate itself in one united body upon
+the East.
+
+All orders of men, deeming the Crusades the only road to heaven,
+enlisted themselves under these sacred banners, and were impatient to
+open the way with their sword to the holy city. Nobles, artisans,
+peasants, even priests, enrolled their names; and to decline this
+meritorious service was branded with the reproach of impiety, or, what
+perhaps was esteemed still more disgraceful, of cowardice and
+pusillanimity. The infirm and aged contributed to the expedition by
+presents and money; and many of them, not satisfied with the merit of
+this atonement, attended it in person, and were determined, if
+possible, to breathe their last in sight of that city where their
+Saviour had died for them. Women themselves, concealing their sex under
+the disguise of armor, attended the camp. The greatest criminals were
+forward in a service, which they regarded as a propitiation for all
+crimes; and the most enormous disorders were, during the course of those
+expeditions, committed by men enured to wickedness, encouraged by
+example, and impelled by necessity. The multitude of the adventurers
+soon became so great, that their more sagacious leaders, Hugh count of
+Vermandois, brother to the French king, Raymond count of Toulouse,
+Godfrey of Bouillon, prince of Brabant, and Stephen count of Blois,
+became apprehensive lest the greatness itself of the armament should
+disappoint its purpose; and they permitted an undisciplined multitude,
+computed at 300,000 men, to go before them, under the command of Peter
+the Hermit and Walter the Moneyless. These men took the road towards
+Constantinople through Hungary and Bulgaria; and trusting that Heaven,
+by supernatural assistance, would supply all their necessities, they
+made no provision for subsistance on their march. They soon found
+themselves obliged to obtain by plunder, what they had vainly expected
+from miracles; and the enraged inhabitants of the countries through
+which they passed, gathering together in arms, attacked the disorderly
+multitude and put them to slaughter without resistance. The more
+disciplined armies followed after; and passing the straights at
+Constantinople, they were mustered in the plains of Asia, and amounted
+in the whole to the number of 700,000 combatants....
+
+After the adventurers in the holy war were assembled on the banks of the
+Bosphorus, opposite to Constantinople, they proceeded on their
+enterprise; but immediately experienced those difficulties which their
+zeal had hitherto concealed from them, and for which, even if they had
+foreseen them, it would have been almost impossible to provide a remedy.
+The Greek emperor, Alexis Comnenus, who had applied to the Western
+Christians for succor against the Turks, entertained hopes, and those
+but feeble ones, of obtaining such a moderate supply, as, acting under
+his command, might enable him to repulse the enemy: but he was extremely
+astonished to see his dominions overwhelmed, on a sudden, by such an
+inundation of licentious barbarians, who, though they pretended
+friendship, despised his subjects as unwarlike, and detested them as
+heretical. By all the arts of policy, in which he excelled, he
+endeavored to divert the torrent; but while he employed professions,
+caresses, civilities, and seeming services towards the leaders of the
+crusade, he secretly regarded those imperious allies as more dangerous
+than the open enemies by whom his empire had been formerly invaded.
+Having effected that difficult point of disembarking them safely in
+Asia, he entered into a private correspondence with Soliman, emperor of
+the Turks; and practised every insidious art, which his genius, his
+power, or his situation, enabled him to employ, for disappointing the
+enterprise, and discouraging the Latins from making thenceforward any
+such prodigious migrations. His dangerous policy was seconded by the
+disorders inseparable from so vast a multitude, who were not united
+under one head, and were conducted by leaders of the most independent
+intractable spirit, unacquainted with military discipline, and
+determined enemies to civil authority and submission. The scarcity of
+provisions, the excesses of fatigue, the influence of unknown climates,
+joined to the want of concert in their operations, and to the sword of a
+warlike enemy, destroyed the adventurers by thousands, and would have
+abated the ardor of men impelled to war by less powerful motives. Their
+zeal, however, their bravery, and their irresistible force, still
+carried them forward, and continually advanced them to the great end of
+their enterprise. After an obstinate siege they took Nice, the seat of
+the Turkish empire; they defeated Soliman in two great battles; they
+made themselves masters of Antioch; and entirely broke the force of the
+Turks, who had so long retained those countries in subjection. The
+soldan of Egypt, whose alliance they had hitherto courted, recovered, on
+the fall of the Turkish power, his former authority in Jerusalem; and he
+informed them by his ambassadors, that if they came disarmed to that
+city, they might now perform their religious vows, and that all
+Christian pilgrims, who should thenceforth visit the holy sepulchre,
+might expect the same good treatment which they had ever received from
+his predecessors. The offer was rejected; the soldan was required to
+yield up the city to the Christians; and on his refusal, the champions
+of the cross advanced to the siege of Jerusalem, which they regarded as
+the consummation of their labors. By the detachments which they had
+made, and the disasters which they had undergone, they were diminished
+to the number of twenty thousand foot, and fifteen hundred horse; but
+these were still formidable, from their valor, their experience, and the
+obedience which, from past calamities, they had learned to pay to their
+leaders. After a siege of five weeks, they took Jerusalem by assault;
+and, impelled by a mixture of military and religious rage, they put the
+numerous garrison and inhabitants to the sword without distinction.
+
+Neither arms defended the valiant, nor submission the timorous: no age
+or sex was spared: infants on the breast were pierced by the same blow
+with their mothers, who implored for mercy: even a multitude to the
+number of ten thousand persons, who had surrendered themselves
+prisoners, and were promised quarter, were butchered in cold blood by
+those ferocious conquerors. The streets of Jerusalem were covered with
+dead bodies; and the triumphant warriors, after every enemy was subdued
+and slaughtered, immediately turned themselves, with the sentiments of
+humiliation and contrition, towards the holy sepulchre. They threw aside
+their arms, still streaming with blood: they advanced with reclined
+bodies, and naked feet and heads, to that sacred monument: they sang
+anthems to their Saviour, who had there purchased their salvation by his
+death and agony: and their devotion, enlivened by the presence of the
+place where he had suffered, so overcame their fury, that they dissolved
+in tears, and bore the appearance of every soft and tender sentiment. So
+inconsistent is human nature with itself! and so easily does the most
+effeminate superstition ally, both with the most heroic courage and with
+the fiercest barbarity!
+
+This great event happened on the fifth of July in the last year of the
+eleventh century. The Christian princes and nobles, after choosing
+Godfrey of Bouillon king of Jerusalem, began to settle themselves in
+their new conquests; while some of them returned to Europe, in order to
+enjoy at home that glory, which their valor had acquired them in this
+popular and meritorious enterprise.
+
+
+
+
+XX. THE BARD.
+
+_A Pindaric Ode._[D]
+
+THOMAS GRAY.--1716-1771.
+
+
+I. 1.
+
+    "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
+      Confusion on thy banners wait;
+    Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing,
+      They mock the air with idle state.
+    Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
+    Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
+      To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
+      From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"
+    Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
+      Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,
+    As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
+      He wound with toilsome march his long array.
+    Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance:
+    "To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering lance.
+
+
+I. 2.
+
+      On a rock, whose haughty brow
+    Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
+      Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,
+    With haggard eyes the Poet stood;
+    (Loose his beard, and hoary hair
+    Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air),
+    And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
+    Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
+      "Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,
+    Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
+    O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,
+      Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
+    Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
+    To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
+
+
+I. 3.
+
+      "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
+      That hush'd the stormy main:
+    Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:
+      Mountains, ye mourn in vain
+      Modred, whose magic song
+    Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.
+      On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,
+    Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale:
+    Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;
+      The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.
+    Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
+      Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes,
+    Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
+      Ye died amidst your dying country's cries--
+    No more I weep. They do not sleep.
+      On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,
+    I see them sit; they linger yet,
+      Avengers of their native land:
+    With me in dreadful harmony they join,
+    And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
+
+
+II. 1.
+
+      "Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
+    The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
+      Give ample room, and verge enough
+    The characters of hell to trace.
+    Mark the year, and mark the night,
+    When Severn shall re-echo with affright
+    The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring,
+    Shrieks of an agonizing king!
+      She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,
+    That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
+      From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
+    The scourge of heaven. What terrors round him wait!
+    Amazement in his van, with flight combin'd,
+    And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
+
+
+II. 2.
+
+      "Mighty victor, mighty lord!
+    Low on his funeral couch he lies!
+      No pitying heart, no eye, afford
+    A tear to grace his obsequies.
+      Is the sable warrior fled?
+    Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
+    The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born?
+    Gone to salute the rising morn.
+    Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows,
+      While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
+    In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;
+      Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
+    Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway,
+    That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
+
+
+II. 3.
+
+      "Fill high the sparkling bowl,
+    The rich repast prepare;
+      Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:
+    Close by the regal chair
+      Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
+      A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
+    Heard ye the din of battle bray,
+      Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
+      Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course,
+    And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.
+      Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
+    With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
+      Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
+    And spare the meek usurper's holy head.
+    Above, below, the rose of snow,
+      Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread:
+    The bristled boar in infant-gore
+      Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
+    Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,
+    Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
+
+
+III. 1.
+
+      "Edward, lo! to sudden fate
+    (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)
+      Half of thy heart we consecrate.
+    (The web is wove. The work is done.)
+    Stay, O stay! nor thus forlorn
+    Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn:
+    In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,
+    They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
+    But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
+      Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
+    Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
+      Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
+    No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
+    All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!
+
+
+III. 2.
+
+      "Girt with many a baron bold
+    Sublime their starry fronts they rear;
+      And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
+    In bearded majesty, appear.
+    In the midst a form divine!
+    Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;
+    Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,
+    Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.
+    What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
+      What strains of vocal transport round her play.
+    Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear
+      They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
+    Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings,
+    Waves in the eye of heaven her many-color'd wings.
+
+
+III. 3.
+
+    "The verse adorn again
+      Fierce War, and faithful Love,
+    And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.
+      In buskin'd measures move
+    Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
+    With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
+      A voice, as of the cherub-choir,
+    Gales from blooming Eden bear;
+    And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
+      That lost in long futurity expire.
+    Fond impious man, thinks thou yon sanguine cloud,
+      Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?
+    To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,
+      And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
+    Enough for me: with joy I see
+      The different doom our fates assign.
+    Be thine despair, and sceptred care;
+      To triumph, and to die, are mine."
+    He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
+    Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[D] This ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward
+the First, when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered
+all the Bards that fell into his hands to be put to death.--GRAY.
+
+
+
+
+XXI. ON AN ADDRESS TO THE THRONE CONCERNING AFFAIRS IN AMERICA.
+
+HOUSE OF LORDS--November 18th, 1777.
+
+LORD CHATHAM.--1708-1778.
+
+
+I rise, my Lords, to declare my sentiments on this most solemn and
+serious subject. It has imposed a load upon my mind, which, I fear,
+nothing can remove, but which impels me to endeavor its alleviation, by
+a free and unreserved communication of my sentiments.
+
+In the first part of the address, I have the honor of heartily
+concurring with the noble Earl who moved it. No man feels sincerer joy
+than I do; none can offer more genuine congratulations on every
+accession of strength to the Protestant succession. I therefore join in
+every congratulation on the birth of another princess, and the happy
+recovery of her Majesty.
+
+But I must stop here. My courtly complaisance will carry me no farther.
+I will not join in congratulation on misfortune and disgrace. I cannot
+concur in a blind and servile address, which approves and endeavors to
+sanctify the monstrous measures which have heaped disgrace and
+misfortune upon us. This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment!
+It is not a time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery cannot now
+avail--cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now
+necessary to instruct the Throne in the language of truth. We must
+dispel the illusion and the darkness which envelop it, and display, in
+its full danger and true colors, the ruin that is brought to our doors.
+
+This, my Lords, is our duty. It is the proper function of this
+noble assembly, sitting, as we do, upon our honors in this House,
+the hereditary council of the Crown. _Who_ is the minister--_where_
+is the minister, that has dared to suggest to the Throne the
+contrary, unconstitutional language this day delivered from it? The
+accustomed language from the Throne has been application to
+Parliament for advice, and a reliance on its constitutional advice
+and assistance. As it is the right of Parliament to give, so it is
+the duty of the Crown to ask it. But on this day, and in this
+extreme momentous exigency, no reliance is reposed on our
+constitutional counsels! no advice is asked from the sober and
+enlightened care of Parliament! but the Crown, from itself and by
+itself, declares an unalterable determination to pursue
+measures--and what measures, my Lords? The measures that have
+produced the imminent perils that threaten us; the measures that
+have brought ruin to our doors.
+
+Can the minister of the day now presume to expect a continuance of
+support in this ruinous infatuation? Can Parliament be so dead to its
+dignity and its duty as to be thus deluded into the loss of the one and
+the violation of the other? To give an unlimited credit and support for
+the steady perseverance in measures not proposed for our parliamentary
+advice, but dictated and forced upon us--in measures, I say, my Lords,
+which have reduced this late flourishing empire to ruin and contempt!
+"But yesterday, and England might have stood against the world: now none
+so poor to do her reverence." I use the words of a poet; but, though it
+be poetry, it is no fiction. It is a shameful truth, that not only the
+power and strength of this country are wasting away and expiring, but
+her well-earned glories, her true honor, and substantial dignity are
+sacrificed.
+
+France, my Lords, has insulted you; she has encouraged and sustained
+America; and, whether America be wrong or right, the dignity of
+this country ought to spurn at the officious insult of French
+interference. The ministers and ambassadors of those who are called
+rebels and enemies are in Paris; in Paris they transact the
+reciprocal interests of America and France. Can there be a more
+mortifying insult? Can even our ministers sustain a more humiliating
+disgrace? Do they dare to resent it? Do they presume even to hint a
+vindication of their honor, and the dignity of the State, by
+requiring the dismission of the plenipotentiaries of America? Such
+is the degradation to which they have reduced the glories of
+England! The people whom they affect to call contemptible rebels,
+but whose growing power has at last obtained the name of enemies;
+the people with whom they have engaged this country in war, and
+against whom they now command our implicit support in every measure
+of desperate hostility--this people, despised as rebels, or
+acknowledged as enemies, are abetted against you, supplied with
+every military store, their interests consulted, and their
+ambassadors entertained, by your inveterate enemy! and our ministers
+dare not interpose with dignity or effect. Is this the honor of a
+great kingdom? Is this the indignant spirit of England, who "but
+yesterday" gave law to the house of Bourbon? My Lords, the dignity
+of nations demands a decisive conduct in a situation like this....
+
+My Lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation, where we can
+not act with success, nor suffer with honor, calls upon us to
+remonstrate in the strongest and loudest language of truth, to
+rescue the ear of majesty from the delusions which surround it. The
+desperate state of our arms abroad is in part known. No man thinks
+more highly of them than I do. I love and honor the English troops.
+I know their virtues and their valor. I know they can achieve
+anything except impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of
+English America _is an impossibility_. You cannot, I venture to say
+it, _you cannot_ conquer America. Your armies in the last war
+effected everything that could be effected; and what was it? It cost
+a numerous army, under the command of a most able general [Lord
+Amherst], now a noble Lord in this House, a long and laborious
+campaign, to expel five thousand Frenchmen from French America. My
+Lords, _you cannot conquer America_. What is your present situation
+there? We do not know the worst; but we know that in three campaigns
+we have done nothing and suffered much. Besides the sufferings,
+perhaps _total loss_ of the Northern force, the best appointed army
+that ever took the field, commanded by Sir William Howe, has retired
+from the American lines. _He was obliged_ to relinquish his attempt,
+and with great delay and danger to adopt a new and distant plan of
+operations. We shall soon know, and in any event have reason to
+lament, what may have happened since. As to conquest, therefore, my
+Lords, I repeat, it is impossible. You may swell every expense and
+every effort still more extravagantly; pile and accumulate every
+assistance you can buy or borrow; traffic and barter with every
+little pitiful German prince that sells and sends his subjects to
+the shambles of a foreign prince; your efforts are forever vain and
+impotent--doubly so from this mercenary aid on which you rely; for
+it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your enemies,
+to overrun them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder,
+devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling
+cruelty! If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a
+foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my
+arms--never--never--never.
+
+But, my Lords, who is the man, that, in addition to these disgraces
+and mischiefs of our army, has dared to authorize and associate to
+our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage? to call into
+civilized alliance the wild and inhuman savage of the woods; to
+delegate to the merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and
+to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren? My
+Lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. Unless
+thoroughly done away, it will be a stain on the national character.
+It is a violation of the Constitution. I believe it is against law.
+It is not the least of our national misfortunes that the strength
+and character of our army are thus impaired. Infected with the
+mercenary spirit of robbery and rapine, familiarized to the horrid
+scenes of savage cruelty, it can no longer boast of the noble and
+generous principles which dignify a soldier, no longer sympathize
+with the dignity of the royal banner, nor feel the pride, pomp, and
+circumstance of glorious war, "that make ambition virtue!" What
+makes ambition virtue?--the sense of honor. But is the sense of
+honor consistent with a spirit of plunder, or the practice of
+murder? Can it flow from mercenary motives, or can it prompt to
+cruel deeds?
+
+The independent views of America have been stated and asserted as the
+foundation of this address. My Lords, no man wishes for the due
+dependence of America on this country more than I do. To preserve it,
+and not confirm that state of independence into which your measures
+hitherto have driven them, is the object which we ought to unite in
+attaining. The Americans, contending for their rights against arbitrary
+exactions, I love and admire. It is the struggle of free and virtuous
+patriots. But, contending for independency and total disconnection from
+England, as an Englishman, I cannot wish them success; for in a due
+constitutional dependency, including the ancient supremacy of this
+country in regulating their commerce and navigation, consists the mutual
+happiness and prosperity both of England and America. She derived
+assistance and protection from us; and we reaped from her the most
+important advantages. She was, indeed, the fountain of our wealth, the
+nerve of our strength, the nursery and basis of our naval power. It is
+our duty, therefore, my Lords, if we wish to save our country, most
+seriously to endeavor the recovery of these most beneficial subjects;
+and in this perilous crisis, perhaps the present moment may be the only
+one in which we can hope for success. For in their negotiations with
+France, they have, or think they have, reason to complain; though it be
+notorious that they have received from that power important supplies and
+assistance of various kinds, yet it is certain they expected it in a
+more decisive and immediate degree. America is in ill humor with France;
+on some points they have not entirely answered her expectations. Let us
+wisely take advantage of every possible moment of reconciliation.
+Besides, the natural disposition of America herself still leans toward
+England; to the old habits of connection and mutual interest that united
+both countries. This _was_ the established sentiment of all the
+continent; and still, my Lords, in the great and principal part, the
+sound part of America, this wise and affectionate disposition prevails.
+And there is a very considerable part of America yet sound--the middle
+and the southern provinces. Some parts may be factious and blind to
+their true interests; but if we express a wise and benevolent
+disposition to communicate with them those immutable rights of nature
+and those constitutional liberties to which they are equally entitled
+with ourselves, by a conduct so just and humane we shall confirm the
+favorable and conciliate the adverse. I say, my Lords, the rights and
+liberties to which they are equally entitled with ourselves, _but no
+more_. I would participate to them every enjoyment and freedom which the
+colonizing subjects of a free state can possess, or wish to possess; and
+I do not see why they should not enjoy every fundamental right in their
+property, and every original substantial liberty, which Devonshire, or
+Surrey, or the county I live in, or any other county in England, can
+claim; reserving always, as the sacred right of the mother country, the
+due constitutional dependency of the colonies. The inherent supremacy of
+the state in regulating and protecting the navigation and commerce of
+all her subjects, is necessary for the mutual benefit and preservation
+of every part, to constitute and preserve the prosperous arrangement of
+the whole empire.
+
+The sound parts of America, of which I have spoken, must be sensible of
+these great truths and of their real interests. America is not in that
+state of desperate and contemptible rebellion which this country has
+been deluded to believe. It is not a wild and lawless banditti, who,
+having nothing to lose, might hope to snatch something from public
+convulsions. Many of their leaders and great men have a great stake in
+this great contest. The gentleman who conducts their armies, I am told,
+has an estate of four or five thousand pounds a year; and when I
+consider these things, I cannot but lament the inconsiderate violence of
+our penal acts, our declaration of treason and rebellion, with all the
+fatal effects of attainder and confiscation.
+
+As to the disposition of foreign powers which is asserted [in the King's
+speech] to be pacific and friendly, let us judge, my Lords, rather by
+their actions and the nature of things than by interested assertions.
+The uniform assistance supplied to America by France suggests a
+different conclusion. The most important interests of France in
+aggrandizing and enriching herself with what she most wants, supplies of
+every naval store from America, must inspire her with different
+sentiments. The extraordinary preparations of the House of Bourbon, by
+land and by sea, from Dunkirk to the Straits, equally ready and willing
+to overwhelm these defenceless islands, should rouse us to a sense of
+their real disposition and our own danger. Not five thousand troops in
+England! hardly three thousand in Ireland! What can we oppose to the
+combined force of our enemies? Scarcely twenty ships of the line so
+fully or sufficiently manned, that any admiral's reputation would permit
+him to take the command of. The river of Lisbon in the possession of our
+enemies! The seas swept by American privateers! Our Channel trade torn
+to pieces by them! In this complicated crisis of danger, weakness at
+home, and calamity abroad, terrified and insulted by the neighboring
+powers, unable to act in America, or acting only to be destroyed, where
+is the man with the forehead to promise or hope for success in such a
+situation, or from perseverance in the measures that have driven us to
+it? Who has the forehead to do so? Where is that man? I should be glad
+to see his face.
+
+You cannot _conciliate_ America by your present measures. You cannot
+_subdue_ her by your present or by any measures. What, then, can you do?
+You cannot conquer; you cannot gain; but you can _address_; you can lull
+the fears and anxieties of the moment into an ignorance of the danger
+that should produce them. But, my Lords, the time demands the language
+of truth. We must not now apply the flattering unction of servile
+compliance or blind complaisance. In a just and necessary war, to
+maintain the rights or honor of my country, I would strip the shirt from
+my back to support it. But in such a war as this, unjust in its
+principle, impracticable in its means, and ruinous in its consequences,
+I would not contribute a single effort nor a single shilling. I do not
+call for vengeance on the heads of those who have been guilty; I only
+recommend to them to make their retreat. Let them walk off; and let them
+make haste, or they may be assured that speedy and condign punishment
+will overtake them.
+
+My Lords, I have submitted to you, with the freedom and truth which I
+think my duty, my sentiments on your present awful situation. I have
+laid before you the ruin of your power, the disgrace of your reputation,
+the pollution of your discipline, the contamination of your morals, the
+complication of calamities, foreign and domestic, that overwhelm your
+sinking country. Your dearest interests, your own liberties, the
+Constitution itself totters to the foundation. All this disgraceful
+danger, this multitude of misery, is the monstrous offspring of this
+unnatural war. We have been deceived and deluded too long. Let us now
+stop short. This is the crisis--the only crisis of time and situation,
+to give us a possibility of escape from the fatal effects of our
+delusions. But if, in an obstinate and infatuated perseverance in folly,
+we slavishly echo the peremptory words this day presented to us, nothing
+can save this devoted country from complete and final ruin. We madly
+rush into multiplied miseries, and "confusion worse confounded."
+
+Is it possible, can it be believed, that ministers are yet blind to this
+impending destruction? I did hope, that instead of this false and empty
+vanity, this overweening pride, engendering high conceits and
+presumptuous imaginations, ministers would have humbled themselves in
+their errors, would have confessed and retracted them, and by an active,
+though a late, repentance, have endeavored to redeem them. But, my
+Lords, since they had neither sagacity to foresee, nor justice nor
+humanity to shun these oppressive calamities--since not even severe
+experience can make them feel, nor the imminent ruin of their country
+awaken them from their stupefaction, the guardian care of Parliament
+must interpose. I shall, therefore, my Lords, propose to you an
+amendment of the address to his Majesty, to be inserted immediately
+after the two first paragraphs of congratulation on the birth of a
+princess, to recommend an immediate cessation of hostilities, and the
+commencement of a treaty to restore peace and liberty to America,
+strength and happiness to England, security and permanent prosperity to
+both countries. This, my Lords, is yet in our power; and let not the
+wisdom and justice of your Lordships neglect the happy, and, perhaps,
+the only opportunity. By the establishment of irrevocable law, founded
+on mutual rights, and ascertained by treaty, these glorious enjoyments
+may be firmly perpetuated. And let me repeat to your Lordships, that the
+strong bias of America, at least of the wise and sounder parts of it,
+naturally inclines to this happy and constitutional reconnection with
+you. Notwithstanding the temporary intrigues with France, we may still
+be assured of their ancient and confirmed partiality to us. America and
+France _cannot_ be congenial.
+
+My Lords, to encourage and confirm that innate inclination to this
+country, founded on every principle of affection, as well as
+consideration of interest; to restore that favorable disposition into a
+permanent and powerful reunion with this country; to revive the mutual
+strength of the empire; again to awe the House of Bourbon, instead of
+meanly truckling, as our present calamities compel us, to every insult
+of French caprice and Spanish punctilio; to re-establish our commerce;
+to reassert our rights and our honor; to confirm our interests, and
+renew our glories forever--a consummation most devoutly to be
+endeavored! and which, I trust, may yet arise from reconciliation with
+America--I have the honor of submitting to you the following amendment,
+which I move to be inserted after the two first paragraphs of the
+address:
+
+    "And that this House does most humbly advise and supplicate his
+    Majesty to be pleased to cause the most speedy and effectual
+    measures to be taken for restoring peace in America; and that no
+    time may be lost in proposing an immediate opening of a treaty
+    for the final settlement of the tranquillity of these invaluable
+    provinces, by a removal of the unhappy causes of this ruinous
+    civil war, and by a just and adequate security against the
+    return of the like calamities in times to come. And this House
+    desire to offer the most dutiful assurances to his Majesty, that
+    they will, in due time, cheerfully co-operate with the
+    magnanimity and tender goodness of his Majesty for the
+    preservation of his people, by such explicit and most solemn
+    declarations, and provisions of fundamental and irrevocable
+    laws, as may be judged necessary for the ascertaining and fixing
+    forever the respective rights of Great Britain and her
+    colonies."
+
+
+
+
+XXII. FROM "THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD."
+
+THE FAMILY USE ART, WHICH IS OPPOSED WITH STILL GREATER.
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH.--1728-1774.
+
+
+Whatever might have been Sophia's sensations, the rest of the family was
+easily consoled for Mr. Burchell's absence by the company of our
+landlord, whose visits now became more frequent and longer. Though he
+had been disappointed in procuring my daughters the amusements of the
+town, as he designed, he took every opportunity of supplying them with
+those little recreations which our retirement would admit of. He usually
+came in the morning, and while my son and I followed our occupations
+abroad, he sat with the family at home, and amused them by describing
+the town, with every part of which he was particularly acquainted. He
+could repeat all the observations that were retailed in the atmosphere
+of the play-houses, and had all the good things of the high wits by rote
+long before they made their way into the jest-books. The intervals
+between conversation were employed in teaching my daughters piquet, or
+sometimes in setting my two little ones to box to make them _sharp_, as
+he called it; but the hopes of having him for a son-in-law, in some
+measure blinded us to all his imperfections. It must be owned that my
+wife laid a thousand schemes to entrap him; or, to speak it more
+tenderly, used every art to magnify the merit of her daughter. If the
+cakes at tea ate short and crisp, they were made by Olivia: if the
+gooseberry wine was well knit, the gooseberries were of her gathering:
+it was her fingers that gave the pickles their peculiar green; and in
+the composition of a pudding, it was her judgment that mixed the
+ingredients. Then the poor woman would sometimes tell the 'squire, that
+she thought him and Olivia extremely of a size, and would bid both stand
+up to see which was tallest. These instances of cunning, which she
+thought impenetrable, yet which everybody saw through, were very
+pleasing to our benefactor, who gave every day some new proofs of his
+passion, which, though they had not risen to proposals of marriage, yet
+we thought fell but little short of it; and his slowness was attributed
+sometimes to native bashfulness, and sometimes to his fear of offending
+his uncle. An occurrence, however, which happened soon after, put it
+beyond a doubt that he designed to become one of our family; my wife
+even regarded it as an absolute promise.
+
+My wife and daughters happening to return a visit to neighbor
+Flamborough's, found that family had lately got their pictures drawn by
+a limner, who travelled the country, and took likenesses for fifteen
+shillings a head. As this family and ours had long a sort of rivalry in
+point of taste, our spirit took the alarm at this stolen march upon us,
+and notwithstanding all I could say, and I said much, it was resolved
+that we should have our pictures done too. Having, therefore, engaged
+the limner, for what could I do? our next deliberation was to shew the
+superiority of our taste in the attitudes. As for our neighbor's family,
+there were seven of them, and they were drawn with seven oranges, a
+thing quite out of taste, no variety in life, no composition in the
+world. We desired to have something in a brighter style, and after many
+debates, at length came to an unanimous resolution of being drawn
+together in one large historical family piece. This would be cheaper,
+since one frame would serve for all, and it would be infinitely more
+genteel; for all families of any taste were now drawn in the same
+manner. As we did not immediately recollect an historical subject to hit
+us, we were contented each with being drawn as independent historical
+figures. My wife desired to be represented as Venus, and the painter was
+desired not to be too frugal of his diamonds in her stomacher and hair.
+Her two little ones were to be as Cupids by her side, while I, with my
+gown and band, was to present her with my books on the Whistonian
+controversy. Olivia would be drawn as an Amazon, sitting upon a bank of
+flowers, dressed in a green Joseph richly laced with gold, and a whip in
+her hand. Sophia was to be a shepherdess, with as many sheep as the
+painter could put in for nothing; and Moses was to be dressed out with
+an hat and white feather. Our taste so much pleased the 'squire, that he
+insisted on being put in as one of the family, in the character of
+Alexander the Great, at Olivia's feet. This was considered by us all as
+an indication of his desire to be introduced into the family, nor could
+we refuse his request. The painter was therefore set to work, and as he
+wrought with assiduity and expedition, in less than four days the whole
+was completed. The piece was large, and it must be owned he did not
+spare his colors; for which my wife gave him great encomiums. We were
+all perfectly satisfied with his performance; but an unfortunate
+circumstance had not occurred till the picture was finished, which now
+struck us with dismay. It was so very large that we had no place in the
+house to fix it. How we all came to disregard so material a point is
+inconceivable; but certain it is, we had been all greatly remiss. The
+picture, therefore, instead of gratifying our vanity, as we hoped,
+leaned, in a most mortifying manner, against the kitchen wall, where the
+canvas was stretched and painted, much too large to be got through any
+of the doors, and the jest of all our neighbors. One compared it to
+Robinson Crusoe's long-boat, too large to be removed; another thought it
+more resembled a reel in a bottle; some wondered how it could be got
+out, but still more were amazed how it ever got in.
+
+But though it excited the ridicule of some, it effectually raised more
+malicious suggestions in many. The 'squire's portrait being found united
+with ours, was an honor too great to escape envy. Scandalous whispers
+began to circulate at our expense, and our tranquillity was continually
+disturbed by persons who came as friends to tell us what was said of us
+by enemies. These reports we always resented with becoming spirit; but
+scandal ever improves by opposition.
+
+We once again therefore entered into a consultation upon obviating the
+malice of our enemies, and at last came to a resolution which had too
+much cunning to give me entire satisfaction. It was this: as our
+principal object was to discover the honor of Mr. Thornhill's addresses,
+my wife undertook to sound him by pretending to ask his advice in the
+choice of an husband for her eldest daughter. If this was not found
+sufficient to induce him to a declaration, it was then resolved to
+terrify him with a rival. To this last step, however, I would by no
+means give my consent, till Olivia gave me the most solemn assurances
+that she would marry the person provided to rival him upon this
+occasion, if he did not prevent it, by taking her himself. Such was the
+scheme laid, which, though I did not strenuously oppose, I did not
+entirely approve.
+
+The next time, therefore, that Mr. Thornhill came to see us, my girls
+took care to be out of the way, in order to give their mamma an
+opportunity of putting her scheme in execution; but they only retired to
+the next room, whence they could overhear the whole conversation: my
+wife artfully introduced it, by observing, that one of the Miss
+Flamboroughs was like to have a very good match of it in Mr. Spanker. To
+this the 'squire assenting, she proceeded to remark, that they who had
+warm fortunes were always sure of getting good husbands: "But heaven
+help," continued she, "the girls that have none. What signifies beauty,
+Mr. Thornhill? or what signifies all the virtue, and all the
+qualifications in the world, in this age of self-interest? It is not,
+what is she? but, what has she? is all the cry."
+
+"Madam," returned he, "I highly approve the justice, as well as the
+novelty, of your remarks, and if I were a king, it should be otherwise.
+It should then, indeed, be fine times for the girls without fortunes:
+our two young ladies should be the first for whom I would provide."
+
+"Ah, sir," returned my wife, "you are pleased to be facetious: but I
+wish I were a queen, and then I know where my eldest daughter should
+look for an husband. But now that you have put it into my head,
+seriously, Mr. Thornhill, can't you recommend me a proper husband for
+her? She is now nineteen years old, well grown and well educated, and,
+in my humble opinion, does not want for parts."
+
+"Madam," replied he, "if I were to choose, I would find out a person
+possessed of every accomplishment that can make an angel happy. One with
+prudence, fortune, taste, and sincerity; such, madam, would be, in my
+opinion, the proper husband." "Ay, sir," said she, "but do you know of
+any such person?"--"No, Madam," returned he, "it is impossible to know
+any person that deserves to be her husband: she's too great a treasure
+for one man's possession: she's a goddess. Upon my soul, I speak what I
+think, she's an angel"--"Ah, Mr. Thornhill, you only flatter my poor
+girl: but we have been thinking of marrying her to one of your tenants,
+whose mother is lately dead, and who wants a manager; you know whom I
+mean, farmer Williams; a warm man, Mr. Thornhill, able to give her good
+bread; and who has several times made her proposals:" (which was
+actually the case) "but, sir," concluded she, "I should be glad to have
+your approbation of our choice."--"How, Madam," replied he, "my
+approbation! My approbation of such a choice! Never. What! Sacrifice so
+much beauty and sense, and goodness, to a creature insensible of the
+blessing! Excuse me, I can never approve of such a piece of injustice!
+And I have my reasons!"--"Indeed, sir," cried Deborah, "If you have your
+reasons, that's another affair; but I should be glad to know those
+reasons."--"Excuse me, madam," returned he, "they lie too deep for
+discovery;" (laying his hand upon his bosom) "they remain buried,
+rivetted here."
+
+After he was gone, upon general consultation, we could not tell what to
+make of these fine sentiments. Olivia considered them as instances of
+the most exalted passion; but I was not quite so sanguine: yet, whatever
+they might portend, it was resolved to prosecute the scheme of farmer
+Williams, who, from my daughter's first appearance in the country, had
+paid her his addresses.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII. MEETING OF JOHNSON WITH WILKES.
+
+(1776).
+
+JAMES BOSWELL.--1740-1795.
+
+_From_ LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D.
+
+
+I am now to record a very curious incident in Dr. Johnson's life, which
+fell under my own observation; of which _pars magna fui_, and which I am
+persuaded will, with the liberal-minded, be much to his credit.
+
+My desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every description
+had made me, much about the same time, obtain an introduction to Dr.
+Samuel Johnson and to John Wilkes, Esq. Two men more different could not
+perhaps be selected out of all mankind. They had even attacked one
+another with some asperity in their writings; yet I lived in habits of
+friendship with both. I could fully relish the excellence of each; for I
+have ever delighted in that intellectual chemistry, which can separate
+good qualities from evil in the same person.
+
+Sir John Pringle, "mine own friend and my father's friend," between whom
+and Dr. Johnson I in vain wished to establish an acquaintance, as I
+respected and lived in intimacy with both of them, observed to me once,
+very ingeniously, "It is not in friendship as in mathematics, where two
+things, each equal to a third, are equal between themselves. You agree
+with Johnson as a middle quality, and you agree with me as a middle
+quality; but Johnson and I should not agree." Sir John was not
+sufficiently flexible; so I desisted; knowing, indeed, that the
+repulsion was equally strong on the part of Johnson; who, I know not
+from what cause, unless his being a Scotchman, had formed a very
+erroneous opinion of Sir John. But I conceived an irresistible wish, if
+possible, to bring Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes together. How to manage
+it, was a nice and difficult matter.[E]
+
+My worthy booksellers and friends, Messieurs Dilly in the Poultry, at
+whose hospitable and well-covered table I have seen a greater number of
+literary men than at any other, except that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, had
+invited me to meet Mr. Wilkes and some more gentlemen on Wednesday, May
+15th. "Pray," said I, "let us have Dr. Johnson." "What, with Mr. Wilkes?
+not for the world," said Mr. Edward Dilly: "Dr. Johnson would never
+forgive me." "Come," said I, "if you'll let me negotiate for you, I will
+be answerable that all shall go well." _Dilly._ "Nay, if you will take
+it upon you, I am sure I shall be very happy to see them both here."
+
+Notwithstanding the high veneration which I entertained for Dr. Johnson,
+I was sensible that he was sometimes a little actuated by the spirit of
+contradiction, and by means of that I hoped I should gain my point. I
+was persuaded that if I had come upon him with a direct proposal, "Sir,
+will you dine in company with Jack Wilkes?" he would have flown into a
+passion, and would probably have answered, "Dine with Jack Wilkes, Sir!
+I'd as soon dine with Jack Ketch." I, therefore, while we were sitting
+quietly by ourselves at his house in an evening, took occasion to open
+my plan thus: "Mr. Dilly, Sir, sends his respectful compliments to you,
+and would be happy if you would do him the honor to dine with him on
+Wednesday next along with me, as I must soon go to Scotland." _Johnson._
+"Sir, I am obliged to Mr. Dilly. I will wait upon him." _Boswell._
+"Provided, Sir, I suppose, that the company which he is to have is
+agreeable to you?" _Johnson._ "What do you mean, Sir? What do you take
+me for? Do you think I am so ignorant of the world as to imagine that I
+am to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at his table?"
+_Boswell._ "I beg your pardon, Sir, for wishing to prevent you from
+meeting people whom you might not like. Perhaps he may have some of what
+he calls his patriotic friends with him." _Johnson._ "Well, Sir, and
+what then? What care I for his _patriotic friends_? Poh!" _Boswell._ "I
+should not be surprised to find Jack Wilkes there." _Johnson._ "And if
+Jack Wilkes _should_ be there, what is that to _me_, Sir? My dear
+friend, let us have no more of this. I am sorry to be angry with you;
+but really it is treating me strangely to talk to me as if I could not
+meet any company whatever, occasionally." _Boswell._ "Pray forgive me,
+Sir, I meant well. But you shall meet whoever comes, for me." Thus I
+secured him, and told Dilly that he would find him very well pleased to
+be one of his guests on the day appointed.
+
+Upon the much expected Wednesday, I called on him about half an hour
+before dinner, as I often did when we were to dine out together, to see
+that he was ready in time, and to accompany him. I found him buffeting
+his books, as upon a former occasion, covered with dust, and making no
+preparation for going abroad. "How is this, Sir?" said I. "Don't you
+recollect that you are to dine at Mr. Dilly's?" _Johnson._ "Sir, I did
+not think of going to Dilly's; it went out of my head. I have ordered
+dinner at home with Mrs. Williams." _Boswell._ "But, my dear Sir, you
+know you were engaged to Mr. Dilly, and I told him so. He will expect
+you, and will be much disappointed if you don't come." _Johnson._ "You
+must talk to Mrs Williams about this."
+
+Here was a sad dilemma. I feared that what I was so confident I had
+secured would yet be frustrated. He had accustomed himself to show Mrs.
+Williams such a degree of humane attention, as frequently imposed some
+restraint upon him; and I knew that if she should be obstinate, he would
+not stir. I hastened down stairs to the blind lady's room, and told her
+I was in great uneasiness, for Dr. Johnson had engaged to me to dine
+this day at Mr. Dilly's, but that he had told me he had forgotten his
+engagement, and had ordered dinner at home. "Yes, Sir," said she,
+pretty peevishly, "Dr. Johnson is to dine at home." "Madam," said I,
+"his respect for you is such, that I know he will not leave you, unless
+you absolutely desire it. But as you have so much of his company, I hope
+you will be good enough to forego it for a day, as Mr. Dilly is a very
+worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his house for Dr.
+Johnson, and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him to-day. And then,
+Madam, be pleased to consider my situation; I carried the message, and I
+assured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnson was to come; and no doubt he has made
+a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted of the honor he expected to
+have. I shall be quite disgraced if the Doctor is not there." She
+gradually softened to my solicitations, which were certainly as earnest
+as most entreaties to ladies upon any occasion, and was graciously
+pleased to empower me to tell Dr. Johnson, "That all things considered,
+she thought he should certainly go." I flew back to him, still in dust,
+and careless of what should be the event, "indifferent in his choice to
+go or stay"; but as soon as I had announced to him Mrs. Williams's
+consent, he roared, "Frank, a clean shirt," and was very soon dressed.
+When I had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, I exulted as
+much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with
+him to set out for Gretna Green.
+
+When we entered Mr. Dilly's drawing room, he found himself in the midst
+of a company he did not know. I kept myself snug and silent, watching
+how he would conduct himself. I observed him whispering to Mr. Dilly,
+"Who is that gentleman, Sir?"--"Mr. Arthur Lee." _Johnson._ "Too, too,
+too" (under his breath), which was one of his habitual mutterings. Mr.
+Arthur Lee could not but be very obnoxious to Johnson, for he was not
+only a _patriot_, but an _American_. He was afterwards minister from the
+United States at the court of Madrid. "And who is the gentleman in
+lace?"--"Mr. Wilkes, Sir." This information confounded him still more;
+he had some difficulty to restrain himself, and, taking up a book, sat
+down upon a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon it
+intently for some time, till he composed himself. His feelings, I dare
+say, were awkward enough. But he had no doubt recollected his having
+rated me for supposing that he could be at all disconcerted by any
+company, and he, therefore, resolutely set himself to behave quite as an
+easy man of the world, who could adapt himself at once to the
+disposition and manners of those whom he might chance to meet.
+
+The cheering sound of "Dinner is upon the table," dissolved his reverie,
+and we _all_ sat down without any symptoms of ill humor.... Mr. Wilkes
+placed himself next to Dr. Johnson, and behaved to him with so much
+attention and politeness, that he gained upon him insensibly. No man ate
+more heartily than Johnson, or loved better what was nice and delicate.
+Mr. Wilkes was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. "Pray
+give me leave, Sir--It is better here--A little of the brown--Some fat,
+Sir--A little of the stuffing--Some gravy--Let me have the pleasure of
+giving you some butter--Allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange;
+or the lemon, perhaps may have more zest"--"Sir; sir, I am obliged to
+you, Sir," cried Johnson, bowing, and turning his head to him with a
+look for some time of "surly virtue," but, in a short while of
+complacency.
+
+Foote being mentioned, Johnson said, "He is not a good mimic." One of
+the company added, "A merry-andrew, a buffoon." _Johnson._ "But he has
+wit too, and is not deficient in ideas, or in fertility and variety of
+imagery, and not empty of reading; he has knowledge enough to fill up
+his part. One species of wit he has in an eminent degree, that of
+escape. You drive him into a corner with both hands; but he is gone,
+Sir, when you think you have got him--like an animal that jumps over
+your head. Then he has a great range for wit; he never lets truth stand
+between him and the jest, and he is sometimes mighty coarse. Garrick is
+under many restraints from which Foote is free." _Wilkes._ "Garrick's
+wit is more like Lord Chesterfield's." _Johnson._ "The first time I was
+in company with Foote was at Fitzherbert's. Having no good opinion of
+the fellow, I was resolved not to be pleased; and it is very difficult
+to please a man against his will. I went on eating my dinner pretty
+sullenly, affecting not to mind him. But the dog was so very comical,
+that I was obliged to lay down my knife and fork, throw myself back in
+my chair, and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir, he was irresistible. He upon
+one occasion experienced, in an extraordinary degree, the efficacy of
+his powers of entertaining. Amongst the many and various modes which he
+tried of getting money, he became a partner with a small-beer brewer,
+and he was to have a share of the profits for procuring customers
+amongst his numerous acquaintance. Fitzherbert was one who took his
+small-beer, but it was so bad that the servants resolved not to drink
+it. They were at some loss how to notify their resolution, being afraid
+of offending their master, who, they knew, liked Foote much as a
+companion. At last they fixed upon a little black boy, who was rather a
+favorite, to be their deputy, and deliver their remonstrance; and,
+having invested him with the sole authority of the kitchen, he was to
+inform Mr. Fitzherbert, in all their names, upon a certain day, that
+they would drink Foote's small-beer no longer. On that day Foote
+happened to dine at Fitzherbert's, and this boy served at table; he was
+so delighted with Foote's stories, and merriment, and grimace, that when
+he went down stairs, he told them, 'This is the finest man I have ever
+seen. I will not deliver your message. I will drink his small-beer.'"
+
+... Mr. Wilkes remarked, that "among all the bold flights of
+Shakespeare's imagination, the boldest was making Birnam-wood march to
+Dunsinane; creating a wood where there never was a shrub; a wood in
+Scotland! ha! ha! ha!" And he also observed, that "the clannish slavery
+of the Highlands of Scotland was the single exception to Milton's remark
+of 'the mountain nymph, sweet Liberty,' being worshipped in all hilly
+countries." "When I was at Inverary," said he, "on a visit to my old
+friend Archibald, Duke of Argyle, his dependents congratulated me on
+being such a favorite of his Grace. I said, 'It is, then, gentlemen,
+truly lucky for me; for if I had displeased the Duke, and he had wished
+it, there is not a Campbell among you but would have been ready to bring
+John Wilkes's head to him in a charger. It would have been only
+
+    "'Off with his head! so much for _Aylesbury_.'
+
+"I was then member for Aylesbury."
+
+... Mr. Arthur Lee mentioned some Scotch who had taken possession of a
+barren part of America, and wondered why they should choose it.
+_Johnson._ "Why, Sir, all barrenness is comparative. The _Scotch_ would
+not know it to be barren." _Boswell._ "Come, come, he is flattering the
+English. You have now been in Scotland, Sir, and say if you did not see
+meat and drink enough there." _Johnson._ "Why, yes, Sir; meat and drink
+enough to give the inhabitants sufficient strength to run away from
+home." All these quick and lively sallies were said sportively, quite in
+jest, and with a smile, which showed that he meant only wit. Upon this
+topic he and Mr. Wilkes could perfectly assimilate; here was a bond of
+union between them, and I was conscious that as both of them had visited
+Caledonia, both were fully satisfied of the strange narrow ignorance of
+those who imagine that it is a land of famine. But they amused
+themselves with persevering in the old jokes. When I claimed a
+superiority for Scotland over England in one respect, that no man can be
+arrested there for a debt merely because another swears it against him;
+but there must first be the judgment of a court of law ascertaining its
+justice; and that a seizure of the person, before judgment is obtained,
+can take place only if his creditor should swear that he is about to fly
+from the country, or, as it is technically expressed, is _in meditatione
+fugae_;--_Wilkes._ "That, I should think, may be safely sworn of all the
+Scotch nation." _Johnson_ (to Mr. Wilkes). "You must know, Sir, I lately
+took my friend Boswell, and showed him genuine civilized life in an
+English provincial town. I turned him loose at Lichfield, my native
+city, that he might see for once real civility; for you know he lives
+among savages in Scotland and among rakes in London." _Wilkes._ "Except
+when he is with grave, sober, decent people, like you and me." _Johnson_
+(smiling). "And we ashamed of him."
+
+... This record, though by no means so perfect as I could wish, will
+serve to give a notion of a very curious interview, which was not only
+pleasing at the time, but had the agreeable and benignant effect of
+reconciling any animosity, and sweetening any acidity, which, in the
+various bustle of political contest, had been produced in the minds of
+two men, who, though widely different, had so many things in
+common--classical learning, modern literature, wit and humor, and ready
+repartee--that it would have been much to be regretted if they had been
+forever at a distance from each other.
+
+Mr. Burke gave me much credit for this successful _negotiation_; and
+pleasantly said, "that there was nothing equal to it in the whole
+history of the _corps diplomatique_."
+
+I attended Dr. Johnson home, and had the satisfaction to hear him tell
+Mrs. Williams how much he had been pleased with Mr. Wilkes's company,
+and what an agreeable day he had passed.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[E] Johnson's dislike of Mr. Wilkes was so great that it extended
+even to his connections. He happened to dine one day at Sir Joshua
+Reynolds's with a large and distinguished company, amongst whom were
+Mr. Wilkes's brother, Israel, and his lady. In the course of
+conversation, Mr. Israel Wilkes was about to make some remark, when
+Johnson suddenly stopped him with, "I hope, sir, what you are going
+to say may be better worth hearing than what you have already said."
+This rudeness shocked and spread a gloom over the whole party,
+particularly as Mr. Israel Wilkes was a gentleman of a very amiable
+character and of refined taste, and, what Dr. Johnson little
+suspected, a very loyal subject. Johnson afterwards owned to me that
+he was very sorry that he had "_snubbed_ Wilkes, as his wife was
+present." I replied, that he should be sorry for many reasons. "No,"
+said Johnson, who was very reluctant to apologize for offences of
+this nature; "no, I only regret it because his wife was by." I
+believe that he had no kind of motive for this incivility to Mr.
+Israel Wilkes but disgust at his brother's political principles.
+
+    MISS REYNOLDS'S RECOLLECTIONS.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV. THE POLICY OF THE EMPIRE IN THE FIRST CENTURY.
+
+EDWARD GIBBON.--1737-1794.
+
+_From_ THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE.
+
+
+In the second century of the Christian era, the empire of Rome
+comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and the most civilized
+portion of mankind. The frontiers of that extensive monarchy were
+guarded by ancient renown and disciplined valor. The gentle but powerful
+influence of laws and manners had gradually cemented the union of the
+provinces. Their peaceful inhabitants enjoyed and abused the advantages
+of wealth and luxury. The image of a free constitution was preserved
+with decent reverence: the Roman senate appeared to possess the
+sovereign authority, and devolved on the emperors all the executive
+powers of government. During a happy period of more than fourscore
+years, the public administration was conducted by the virtue and
+abilities of Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and the two Antonines.
+
+The principal conquests of the Romans were achieved under the republic;
+and the emperors, for the most part, were satisfied with preserving
+those dominions which had been acquired by the policy of the senate, the
+active emulation of the consuls, and the martial enthusiasm of the
+people. The seven first centuries were filled with a rapid succession of
+triumphs; but it was reserved for Augustus to relinquish the ambitious
+design of subduing the whole earth, and to introduce a spirit of
+moderation into the public councils. Inclined to peace by his temper and
+situation, it was easy for him to discover that Rome, in her present
+exalted situation, had much less to hope than to fear from the chance of
+arms; and that, in the prosecution of remote wars, the undertaking
+became every day more difficult, the event more doubtful, and the
+possession more precarious and less beneficial. The experience of
+Augustus added weight to these salutary reflections, and effectually
+convinced him that, by the prudent vigor of his counsels, it would be
+easy to secure every concession which the safety or the dignity of Rome
+might require from the most formidable barbarians. Instead of exposing
+his person and his legions to the arrows of the Parthians, he obtained,
+by an honorable treaty, the restitution of the standards and prisoners
+which had been taken in the defeat of Crassus.
+
+His generals, in the early part of his reign, attempted the reduction of
+AEthiopia and Arabia Felix. They marched near a thousand miles to the
+south of the tropic; but the heat of the climate soon repelled the
+invaders, and protected the unwarlike natives of those sequestered
+regions. The northern countries of Europe scarcely deserved the expense
+and labor of conquest. The forests and morasses of Germany were filled
+with a hardy race of barbarians, who despised life when it was separated
+from freedom; and though, on the first attack, they seemed to yield to
+the weight of the Roman power, they soon, by a signal act of despair,
+regained their independence, and reminded Augustus of the vicissitude of
+fortune. On the death of that emperor, his testament was publicly read
+in the senate. He bequeathed, as a valuable legacy to his successors,
+the advice of confining the empire within those limits which nature
+seemed to have placed as its permanent bulwarks and boundaries: on the
+west the Atlantic Ocean; the Rhine and Danube on the north; the
+Euphrates on the east; and towards the south, the sandy deserts of
+Arabia and Africa.
+
+Happily for the repose of mankind, the moderate system recommended by
+the wisdom of Augustus was adopted by the fears and vices of his
+immediate successors. Engaged in the pursuit of pleasure, or in the
+exercise of tyranny, the first Caesars seldom showed themselves to the
+armies or to the provinces; nor were they disposed to suffer that those
+triumphs which _their_ indolence neglected should be usurped by the
+conduct and valor of their lieutenants. The military fame of a subject
+was considered as an insolent invasion of the imperial prerogative; and
+it became the duty, as well as interest, of every Roman general to guard
+the frontiers intrusted to his care, without aspiring to conquests
+which might have proved no less fatal to himself than to the vanquished
+barbarians.
+
+The only accession which the Roman empire received during the first
+century of the Christian era was the province of Britain. In this single
+instance the successors of Caesar and Augustus were persuaded to follow
+the example of the former, rather than the precept of the latter. The
+proximity of its situation to the coast of Gaul seemed to invite their
+arms; the pleasing, though doubtful, intelligence of a pearl-fishery
+attracted their avarice; and as Britain was viewed in the light of a
+distinct and insulated world, the conquest scarcely formed any exception
+to the general system of continental measures. After a war of about
+forty years, undertaken by the most stupid, maintained by the most
+dissolute, and terminated by the most timid of all the emperors, the far
+greater part of the island submitted to the Roman yoke. The various
+tribes of Britons possessed valor without conduct, and the love of
+freedom without the spirit of union. They took up arms with savage
+fierceness; they laid them down, or turned them against each other, with
+wild inconstancy; and while they fought singly, they were successively
+subdued. Neither the fortitude of Caractacus, nor the despair of
+Boadicea, nor the fanaticism of the Druids, could avert the slavery of
+their country, or resist the steady progress of the imperial generals,
+who maintained the national glory, when the throne was disgraced by the
+weakest or the most vicious of mankind. At the very time when Domitian,
+confined to his palace, felt the terrors which he inspired, his legions,
+under the command of the virtuous Agricola, defeated the collected force
+of the Caledonians at the foot of the Grampian hills; and his fleets,
+venturing to explore an unknown and dangerous navigation, displayed the
+Roman arms round every part of the island. The conquest of Britain was
+considered as already achieved; and it was the design of Agricola to
+complete and insure his success by the easy reduction of Ireland, for
+which, in his opinion, one legion and a few auxiliaries were sufficient.
+The western isle might be improved into a valuable possession, and the
+Britons would wear their chains with the less reluctance, if the
+prospect and example of freedom was on every side removed from before
+their eyes.
+
+But the superior merit of Agricola soon occasioned his removal from the
+government of Britain; and forever disappointed this rational, though
+extensive, scheme of conquest. Before his departure the prudent general
+had provided for security as well as for dominion. He had observed that
+the island is almost divided into two unequal parts by the opposite
+gulfs, or, as they are now called, the Friths of Scotland. Across the
+narrow interval of about forty miles he had drawn a line of military
+stations, which was afterwards fortified, in the reign of Antoninus
+Pius, by a turf rampart, erected on foundations of stone. This wall of
+Antoninus, at a small distance beyond the modern cities of Edinburgh and
+Glasgow, was fixed as the limit of the Roman province. The native
+Caledonians preserved, in the northern extremity of the island, their
+wild independence, for which they were not less indebted to their
+poverty than to their valor. Their incursions were frequently repelled
+and chastised, but their country was never subdued. The masters of the
+fairest and most wealthy climates of the globe turned with contempt from
+gloomy hills assailed by the winter tempest, from lakes concealed in a
+blue mist, and from cold and lonely heaths, over which the deer of the
+forest were chased by a troop of naked barbarians.
+
+Such was the state of the Roman frontiers, and such the maxims of
+imperial policy, from the death of Augustus to the accession of Trajan.
+
+
+
+
+XXV. ON THE ATTACKS UPON HIS PENSION.[F]
+
+EDMUND BURKE.--1729-1797.
+
+
+In one thing I can excuse the Duke of Bedford for his attack upon me and
+my mortuary pension: He cannot readily comprehend the transaction he
+condemns. What I have obtained was the fruit of no bargain, the
+production of no intrigue, the result of no compromise, the effect of no
+solicitation. The first suggestion of it never came from me, mediately
+or immediately, to his Majesty or any of his ministers. It was long
+known that the instant my engagements would permit it, and before the
+heaviest of all calamities had forever condemned me to obscurity and
+sorrow, I had resolved on a total retreat. I had executed that design. I
+was entirely out of the way of serving or of hurting any statesman or
+any party, when the ministers so generously and so nobly carried into
+effect the spontaneous bounty of the crown. Both descriptions have acted
+as became them. When I could no longer serve them, the ministers have
+considered my situation. When I could no longer hurt them, the
+revolutionists have trampled on my infirmity. My gratitude, I trust, is
+equal to the manner in which the benefit was conferred. It came to me,
+indeed, at a time of life, and in a state of mind and body, in which no
+circumstance of fortune could afford me any real pleasure. But this was
+no fault in the royal donor, or in his ministers, who were pleased, in
+acknowledging the merits of an invalid servant of the public, to assuage
+the sorrows of a desolate old man....
+
+I was not like his Grace of Bedford, swaddled, and rocked, and dandled
+into a legislator: "_Nitor in adversum_" is the motto for a man like me.
+I possessed not one of the qualities, nor cultivated one of the arts,
+that recommend men to the favor and protection of the great. I was not
+made for a minion or a tool. As little did I follow the trade of winning
+the hearts by imposing on the understandings of the people. At every
+step of my progress in life--for in every step was I traversed and
+opposed--and at every turnpike I met, I was obliged to shew my passport,
+and again and again to prove my sole title to the honor of being useful
+to my country, by a proof that I was not wholly unacquainted with its
+laws, and the whole system of its interests both abroad and at home.
+Otherwise, no rank, no toleration even, for me. I had no arts but manly
+arts. On them I have stood, and, please God, in spite of the Duke of
+Bedford and the Earl of Lauderdale, to the last gasp will I stand....
+
+The Duke of Bedford conceives that he is obliged to call the attention
+of the House of Peers to his Majesty's grant to me, which he considers
+as excessive and out of all bounds.
+
+I know not how it has happened, but it really seems, that, whilst his
+Grace was meditating his well-considered censure upon me, he fell into a
+sort of sleep. Homer nods, and the Duke of Bedford may dream; and as
+dreams--even his golden dreams--are apt to be ill-pieced and
+incongruously put together, his Grace preserved his idea of reproach to
+_me_, but took the subject-matter from the crown grants to _his own
+family_. This is "the stuff of which his dreams are made." In that way
+of putting things together, his Grace is perfectly in the right. The
+grants to the house of Russell were so enormous, as not only to outrage
+economy, but even to stagger credibility. The Duke of Bedford is the
+leviathan among all the creatures of the crown. He tumbles about his
+unwieldy bulk; he plays and frolics in the ocean of the royal bounty.
+Huge as he is, and whilst "he lies floating many a rood," he is still a
+creature. His ribs, his fins, his whalebone, his blubber, the very
+spiracles through which he spouts a torrent of brine against his origin,
+and covers me all over with the spray--everything of him and about him
+is from the throne. Is it for _him_ to question the dispensation of the
+royal favor?
+
+I really am at a loss to draw any sort of parallel between the public
+merits of his Grace, by which he justifies the grants he holds, and
+these services of mine, on the favorable construction of which I have
+obtained what his Grace so much disapproves. In private life I have not
+at all the honor of acquaintance with the noble Duke; but I ought to
+presume, and it costs me nothing to do so, that he abundantly deserves
+the esteem and love of all who live with him. But as to public service,
+why, truly, it would not be more ridiculous for me to compare myself, in
+rank, in fortune, in splendid descent, in youth, strength, or figure,
+with the Duke of Bedford, than to make a parallel between his services
+and my attempts to be useful to my country. It would not be gross
+adulation, but uncivil irony, to say that he has any public merit of his
+own to keep alive the idea of the services by which his vast landed
+pensions were obtained. My merits, whatever they are, are original and
+personal: his are derivative. It is his ancestor, the original
+pensioner, that has laid up this inexhaustible fund of merit, which
+makes his Grace so very delicate and exceptious about the merit of all
+other grantees of the crown. Had he permitted me to remain in quiet, I
+should have said: "'Tis his estate; that's enough. It is his by law;
+what have I to do with it or its history?" He would naturally have said
+on his side: "'Tis this man's fortune. He is as good now as my ancestor
+was two hundred and fifty years ago. I am a young man with very old
+pensions: he is an old man with very young pensions--that's all."
+
+Why will his Grace, by attacking me, force me reluctantly to compare my
+little merit with that which obtained from the crown those prodigies of
+profuse donation by which he tramples on the mediocrity of humble and
+laborious individuals?... Since the new grantees have war made on them
+by the old, and that the word of the sovereign is not to be taken, let
+us turn our eyes to history, in which great men have always a pleasure
+in contemplating the heroic origin of their house.
+
+The first peer of the name, the first purchaser of the grants, was a Mr.
+Russell, a person of an ancient gentleman's family, raised by being a
+minion of Henry the Eighth. As there generally is some resemblance of
+character to create these relations, the favorite was in all likelihood
+much such another as his master. The first of those immoderate grants
+was not taken from the ancient demesne of the crown, but from the recent
+confiscation of the ancient nobility of the land. The lion, having
+sucked the blood of his prey, threw the offal carcass to the jackal in
+waiting. Having tasted once the food of confiscation, the favorites
+became fierce and ravenous. This worthy favorite's first grant was from
+the lay nobility. The second, infinitely improving on the enormity of
+the first, was from the plunder of the church. In truth, his Grace is
+somewhat excusable for his dislike to a grant like mine, not only in its
+quantity, but in its kind, so different from his own.
+
+Mine was from a mild and benevolent sovereign: his, from Henry the
+Eighth. Mine had not its fund in the murder of any innocent person of
+illustrious rank, or in the pillage of any body of unoffending men: his
+grants were from the aggregate and consolidated funds of judgments
+iniquitously legal, and from possessions voluntarily surrendered by the
+lawful proprietors with the gibbet at their door.
+
+The merit of the grantee whom he derives from, was that of being a
+prompt and greedy instrument of a levelling tyrant, who oppressed all
+descriptions of his people, but who fell with particular fury on
+everything that was great and noble. Mine has been in endeavoring to
+screen every man, in every class, from oppression, and particularly in
+defending the high and eminent, who, in the bad times of confiscating
+princes, confiscating chief-governors, or confiscating demagogues, are
+the most exposed to jealousy, avarice, and envy.
+
+The merit of the original grantee of his Grace's pensions was in giving
+his hand to the work, and partaking the spoil with a prince who
+plundered a part of the national church of his time and country. Mine
+was in defending the whole of the national church of my own time and my
+own country, and the whole of the national churches of all countries,
+from the principles and the examples which lead to ecclesiastical
+pillage, thence to a contempt of _all_ prescriptive titles, thence to
+the pillage of _all_ property, and thence to universal desolation.
+
+The merit of the origin of his Grace's fortune was in being a favorite
+and chief adviser to a prince who left no liberty to his native country.
+My endeavor was to obtain liberty for the municipal country in which I
+was born, and for all descriptions and denominations in it. Mine was to
+support, with unrelaxing vigilance, every right, every privilege, every
+franchise, in this my adopted, my dearer, and more comprehensive
+country; and not only to preserve those rights in this chief seat of
+empire, but in every nation, in every land, in every climate, language,
+and religion, in the vast domain that still is under the protection, and
+the larger that was once under the protection, of the British crown.
+
+His founder's merits were, by arts in which he served his master and
+made his fortune, to bring poverty, wretchedness, and depopulation on
+his country. Mine were under a benevolent prince, in promoting the
+commerce, manufactures, and agriculture of his kingdom.
+
+His founder's merit was the merit of a gentleman raised by the arts of a
+court and the protection of a Wolsey to the eminence of a great and
+potent lord. His merit in that eminence was, by instigating a tyrant to
+injustice, to provoke a people to rebellion. My merit was, to awaken the
+sober part of the country, that they might put themselves on their
+guard against any one potent lord, or any greater number of potent
+lords, or any combination of great leading men of any sort, if ever they
+should attempt to proceed in the same courses, but in the reverse
+order,--that is, by instigating a corrupted populace to rebellion, and,
+through that rebellion, introducing a tyranny yet worse than the tyranny
+which his Grace's ancestor supported, and of which he profited in the
+manner we behold in the despotism of Henry the Eighth.
+
+The political merit of the first pensioner of his Grace's house was that
+of being concerned as a counsellor of state in advising, and in his
+person executing, the conditions of a dishonorable peace with
+France,--the surrendering of the fortress of Boulogne, then our outguard
+on the Continent. By that surrender, Calais, the key of France, and the
+bridle in the mouth of that power, was not many years afterwards finally
+lost. My merit has been in resisting the power and pride of France,
+under any form of its rule; but in opposing it with the greatest zeal
+and earnestness, when that rule appeared in the worst form it could
+assume,--the worst, indeed, which the prime cause and principle of all
+evil could possibly give it. It was my endeavor by every means to excite
+a spirit in the House, where I had the honor of a seat, for carrying on
+with early vigor and decision the most clearly just and necessary war
+that this or any nation ever carried on, in order to save my country
+from the iron yoke of its power, and from the more dreadful contagion of
+its principles,--to preserve, while they can be preserved, pure and
+untainted, the ancient, inbred integrity, piety, good-nature, and
+good-humor of the people of England, from the dreadful pestilence
+which, beginning in France, threatens to lay waste the whole moral and
+in a great degree the whole physical world, having done both in the
+focus of its most intense malignity.
+
+The labors of his Grace's founder merited the "curses, not loud, but
+deep," of the Commons of England, on whom _he_ and his master had
+effected a _complete Parliamentary Reform_, by making them, in their
+slavery and humiliation, the true and adequate representatives of a
+debased, degraded, and undone people. My merits were in having had an
+active, though not always an ostentatious share, in every one act,
+without exception, of undisputed constitutional utility in my time, and
+in having supported, on all occasions, the authority, the efficiency,
+and the privileges of the Commons of Great Britain. I ended my services
+by a recorded and fully reasoned assertion on their own journals of
+their constitutional rights, and a vindication of their constitutional
+conduct. I labored in all things to merit their inward approbation, and
+(along with the assistants of the largest, the greatest, and best of my
+endeavors) I received their free, unbiased, public, and solemn thanks.
+
+Thus stands the account of the comparative merits of the crown grants
+which compose the Duke of Bedford's fortune, as balanced against mine.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[F] _From_ "A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD, _on the attacks made upon Mr.
+Burke and his Pension, in the House of Lords, by the Duke of Bedford
+and the Earl of Lauderdale, early in the Present Session of
+Parliament." 1796._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _England, with all thy faults, I love thee still,
+    My country! and, while yet a nook is left
+    Where English minds and manners may be found,
+    Shall be constrain'd to love thee. Though thy clime
+    Be fickle, and thy year, most part, deform'd
+    With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost,
+    I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies
+    And fields without a flower, for warmer France
+    With all her vines._
+
+        COWPER.--_The Timepiece_.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI. TWO EIGHTEENTH CENTURY SCENES.
+
+WILLIAM COWPER.--1731-1800.
+
+_From letters to the Rev. John Newton._
+
+
+Nov. 17th, 1783.
+
+... Since our conflagration here, we have sent two women and a boy to
+the justice, for depredation; S. R. for stealing a piece of beef, which,
+in her excuse, she said she intended to take care of. This lady, whom
+you well remember, escaped for want of evidence; not that evidence was
+wanting, but our men of Gotham judged it unnecessary to send it. With
+her went the woman I mentioned before, who, it seems, has made some sort
+of profession, but upon this occasion allowed herself a latitude of
+conduct rather inconsistent with it, having filled her apron with
+wearing-apparel, which she likewise intended to take care of. She would
+have gone to the county gaol, had William Raban, the baker's son, who
+prosecuted, insisted upon it; but he, good-naturedly, though I think
+weakly, interposed in her favor, and begged her off. The young gentleman
+who accompanied these fair ones is the junior son of Molly Boswell. He
+had stolen some iron-work, the property of Griggs the butcher. Being
+convicted, he was ordered to be whipped, which operation he underwent at
+the cart's tail, from the stone-house to the high arch, and back again.
+He seemed to show great fortitude, but it was all an imposition upon the
+public. The beadle, who performed it, had filled his left hand with
+yellow ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew the lash of his
+whip, leaving the appearance of a wound upon the skin, but in reality
+not hurting him at all. This being perceived by Mr. Constable H., who
+followed the beadle, he applied his cane, without any such management or
+precaution, to the shoulders of the too merciful executioner. The scene
+immediately became more interesting. The beadle could by no means be
+prevailed upon to strike hard, which provoked the constable to strike
+harder; and this double flogging continued, till a lass of Silver-End,
+pitying the pitiful beadle thus suffering under the hands of the
+pitiless constable, joined the procession, and placing herself
+immediately behind the latter, seized him by his capillary club,
+and pulling him backwards by the same, slapped his face with a most
+Amazon fury. This concatenation of events has taken up more of my
+paper than I intended it should, but I could not forbear to inform
+you how the beadle thrashed the thief, the constable the beadle, and
+the lady the constable, and how the thief was the only person concerned
+who suffered nothing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+March 29th, 1784.
+
+It being his Majesty's pleasure, that I should yet have another
+opportunity to write before he dissolves the Parliament, I avail myself
+of it with all possible alacrity. I thank you for your last, which was
+not the less welcome for coming, like an extraordinary gazette, at a
+time when it was not expected.
+
+As when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the water finds its way into
+creeks and holes of rocks, which in its calmer state it never reaches,
+in like manner the effect of these turbulent times is felt even at
+Orchard Side, where in general we live as undisturbed by the political
+element as shrimps or cockles that have been accidentally deposited in
+some hollow beyond the water-mark, by the usual dashing of the waves.
+We were sitting yesterday after dinner, the two ladies and myself, very
+composedly, and without the least apprehension of any such intrusion in
+our snug parlor, one lady knitting, the other netting, and the gentleman
+winding worsted, when to our unspeakable surprise a mob appeared before
+the window; a smart rap was heard at the door, the boys bellowed, and
+the maid announced Mr. Grenville. Puss was unfortunately let out of her
+box, so that the candidate, with all his good friends at his heels, was
+refused admittance at the grand entry, and referred to the back door, as
+the only possible way of approach.
+
+Candidates are creatures not very susceptible of affronts, and would
+rather, I suppose, climb in at the window, than be absolutely excluded.
+In a minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the parlor were filled. Mr.
+Grenville, advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with a degree of
+cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he, and as many more
+as could find chairs, were seated, he began to open the intent of his
+visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me credit. I
+assured him I had no influence, which he was not equally inclined to
+believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr. Ashburner, the draper,
+addressing himself to me at this moment, informed me that I had a great
+deal. Supposing that I could not be possessed of such a treasure without
+knowing it, I ventured to affirm my first assertion, by saying, that if
+I had any I was utterly at a loss to imagine where it could be, or
+wherein it consisted. Thus ended the conference. Mr. Grenville squeezed
+me by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and withdrew. He kissed
+likewise the maid in the kitchen, and seemed upon the whole a most
+loving, kissing, kind-hearted gentleman. He is very young, genteel, and
+handsome. He has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not being
+sufficient, as it should seem, for the many nice and difficult purposes
+of a senator, he has a third also, which he suspended from his
+buttonhole. The boys halloo'd, the dogs barked, puss scampered, the
+hero, with his long train of obsequious followers, withdrew. We made
+ourselves very merry with the adventure, and in a short time settled
+into our former tranquillity, never probably to be thus interrupted
+more. I thought myself, however, happy in being able to affirm truly
+that I had not that influence for which he sued; and which, had I been
+possessed of it, with my present views of the dispute between the Crown
+and the Commons, I must have refused him, for he is on the side of the
+former. It is comfortable to be of no consequence in a world where one
+cannot exercise any without disobliging somebody. The town, however,
+seems to be much at his service, and if he be equally successful
+throughout the country, he will undoubtedly gain his election. Mr.
+Ashburner, perhaps, was a little mortified, because it was evident I
+owed the honor of this visit to his misrepresentation of my importance.
+But had he thought proper to assure Mr. Grenville that I had three
+heads, I should not, I suppose, have been bound to produce them....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
+    Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
+    And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
+    Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
+    That cheer but not inebriate wait on each,
+    So let us welcome peaceful evening in._
+
+        COWPER.--_The Winter Evening_.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII. FROM "THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL."[G]
+
+RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.--1751-1816.
+
+
+SCENE.--_A Room in_ SIR PETER TEAZLE'S _House._
+
+_Enter_ SIR PETER TEAZLE.
+
+_Sir Pet._ When an old bachelor marries a young wife, what is he to
+expect? 'Tis now six months since Lady Teazle made me the happiest of
+men--and I have been the most miserable dog ever since. We tiffed a
+little going to church, and fairly quarrelled before the bells had done
+ringing. I was more than once nearly choked with gall during the
+honeymoon, and had lost all comfort in life before my friends had done
+wishing me joy. Yet I chose with caution--a girl bred wholly in the
+country, who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown, nor dissipation
+above the annual gala of a race ball. Yet she now plays her part in all
+the extravagant fopperies of fashion and the town with as ready a grace
+as if she never had seen a bush or a grass-plot out of Grosvenor Square!
+I am sneered at by all my acquaintance, and paragraphed in the
+newspapers. She dissipates my fortune, and contradicts all my humors;
+yet the worst of it is, I doubt I love her, or I should never bear all
+this. However, I'll never be weak enough to own it. But I meet with
+nothing but crosses and vexations--and the fault is entirely hers. I am,
+myself, the sweetest-tempered man alive, and hate a teasing temper; and
+so I tell her a hundred times a day.--Ay! and what is very
+extraordinary, in all our disputes she is always in the wrong. But Lady
+Sneerwell, and the set she meets at her house, encourage the
+perverseness of her disposition. Then, to complete my vexation, Maria,
+my ward, whom I ought to have the power of a father over, is determined
+to turn rebel too, and absolutely refuses the man whom I have long
+resolved on for her husband--
+
+_Enter_ LADY TEAZLE.
+
+Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you
+please; but I ought to have my own way in everything, and, what's more,
+I will too. What! though I was educated in the country, I know very well
+that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are
+married.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Very well, ma'am, very well; so a husband is to have no
+influence, no authority?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Authority! No, to be sure. If you wanted authority over me,
+you should have adopted me, and not married me: I am sure you were old
+enough.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Old enough!--ay, there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though
+my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your
+extravagance!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a
+woman of fashion ought to be.
+
+_Sir Pet._ No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such
+unmeaning luxury. Such wastefulness! to spend as much to furnish your
+dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the
+Pantheon into a greenhouse, and give a _fete champetre_ at Christmas.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because flowers are dear in
+cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me.
+For my part, I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and that
+roses grew under our feet.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Oons! madam--if you had been born to this, I shouldn't wonder
+at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I
+married you.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should
+never have married you.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler
+style--the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle,
+when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured linen
+gown, with a bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth over a
+roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your own
+working.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Oh, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led.
+My daily occupation--to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make
+extracts from the family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's
+lap-dog.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ And then you know my evening amusements! To draw patterns
+for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up; to play Pope Joan
+with the curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck down to an
+old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.
+
+_Sir Pet._ I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these were
+the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your
+coach--_vis-a-vis_--and three powdered footmen before your chair; and,
+in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens.
+No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, behind
+the butler, on a docked coach-horse.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ No--I vow I never did that: I deny the butler and the
+coach-horse.
+
+_Sir Pet._ This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done for
+you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank--in short,
+I have made you my wife.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Well, then, and there is but one thing more you can make me
+to add to the obligation, that is----
+
+_Sir Pet._ My widow, I suppose?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Hem! hem!
+
+_Sir Pet._ I thank you, madam--but don't flatter yourself; for, though
+your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my
+heart, I promise you: however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Then why will you endeavor to make yourself so disagreeable
+to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Madam, I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses
+when you married me?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?
+
+_Sir Pet._ The fashion, indeed! what had you to do with the fashion
+before you married me?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ For my part, I should think you would like to have your
+wife thought a woman of taste.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ay--there again--taste! Zounds! madam, you had no taste when
+you married me!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter! and after having
+married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now,
+Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go
+to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ay, there's another precious circumstance--a charming set of
+acquaintances you have made there!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune,
+and remarkably tenacious of reputation.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance; for
+they don't choose anybody should have a character but themselves! Such a
+crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief
+than these utterers of forged tales; coiners of scandal, and clippers of
+reputation.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ What, would you restrain the freedom of speech?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ah! they have made you just as bad as any one of the society.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tolerable grace.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Grace, indeed!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ But I vow I bear no malice against the people I abuse; when
+I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure good humor; and I take it
+for granted they deal exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir
+Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Well, well, I'll call in, just to look after my own
+character.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Then, indeed, you must make haste after me, or you'll be
+too late. So good-bye to ye.      [_Exit._
+
+_Sir Pet._ So--I have gained much by my intended expostulation! Yet with
+what a charming air she contradicts everything I say; and how pleasantly
+she shows her contempt for my authority! Well, though I can't make her
+love me; there is great satisfaction in quarrelling with her; and I
+think she never appears to such advantage as when she is doing
+everything in her power to plague me.      [_Exit_.
+
+
+SCENE.--_A room in_ LADY SNEERWELL'S _House._
+
+LADY SNEERWELL, MRS. CANDOUR, CRABTREE, SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE, _and_
+JOSEPH SURFACE, _discovered_.
+
+_Enter_ LADY TEAZLE _and_ MARIA.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Lady Teazle, I hope we shall see Sir Peter?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ I believe he'll wait on your ladyship presently.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Maria, my love, you look grave. Come, you shall sit down
+to piquet with Mr. Surface.
+
+_Mar._ I take very little pleasure in cards--however, I'll do as your
+ladyship pleases.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Now I'll die; but you are so scandalous, I'll forswear your
+society.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ What's the matter, Mrs. Candour?
+
+_Mrs. Can._ They'll not allow our friend Miss Vermillion to be handsome.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Oh, surely she is a pretty woman.
+
+_Crab._ I am very glad you think so, ma'am.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ She has a charming fresh color.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Yes, when it is fresh put on.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Oh, fie! Her color is natural: I have seen it come and go!
+
+_Lady Teaz._ I dare say you have, ma'am: it goes off at night, and comes
+again in the morning.
+
+_Sir Ben._ True, ma'am, it not only comes and goes; but, what's more,
+her maid can fetch and carry it!
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Ha! ha! ha! how I hate to hear you talk so! But surely now,
+her sister is, or was, very handsome.
+
+_Crab._ Who? Mrs. Evergreen? Oh! she's six-and-fifty if she's an hour!
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Now positively you wrong her; fifty-two or fifty-three is
+the utmost--and I don't think she looks more.
+
+_Sir Ben._ Ah! there's no judging by her looks, unless one could see her
+face.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Well, well, if Mrs. Evergreen does take some pains to
+repair the ravages of time, you must allow she effects it with great
+ingenuity; and surely that's better than the careless manner in which
+the widow Ochre caulks her wrinkles.
+
+_Sir Ben._ Nay, now, Lady Sneerwell, you are severe upon the widow.
+Come, come, 'tis not that she paints so ill--but, when she has finished
+her face, she joins it on so badly to her neck, that she looks like a
+mended statue, in which the connoisseur may see at once that the head is
+modern, though the trunk's antique.
+
+_Crab._ Ha! ha! ha! Well said, nephew!
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Ha! ha! ha! Well, you make me laugh; but I vow I hate you
+for it. What do you think of Miss Simper?
+
+_Sir Ben._ Why, she has very pretty teeth.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Yes, and on that account, when she is neither speaking nor
+laughing (which very seldom happens), she never absolutely shuts her
+mouth, but leaves it always on a-jar, as it were--thus.
+
+[_Shows her teeth._
+
+_Mrs. Can._ How can you be so ill-natured?
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Nay, I allow even that's better than the pains Mrs. Prim
+takes to conceal her losses in front. She draws her mouth till it
+positively resembles the aperture of a poor's-box, and all her words
+appear to slide out edgewise as it were--thus: _How do you do, madam?
+Yes, madam._      [_Mimics._
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Very well, Lady Teazle; I see you can be a little severe.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ In defence of a friend it is but justice. But here comes
+Sir Peter to spoil our pleasantry.
+
+_Enter_ SIR PETER TEAZLE.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ladies, your most obedient.--[_Aside,_] Mercy on me, here is
+the whole set! a character dead at every word, I suppose.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ I am rejoiced you are come, Sir Peter. They have been so
+censorious--and Lady Teazle as bad as any one.
+
+_Sir Pet._ That must be very distressing to you, indeed, Mrs. Candour.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Oh, they will allow good qualities to nobody: not even good
+nature to our friend Mrs. Pursy.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ What, the fat dowager who was at Mrs. Quadrille's last
+night?
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Nay, her bulk is her misfortune; and, when she takes so much
+pains to get rid of it, you ought not to reflect on her.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ That's very true, indeed.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Yes, I know she almost lives on acids and small whey; laces
+herself by pulleys; and often, in the hottest noon in summer, you may
+see her on a little squat pony, with her hair plaited up behind like a
+drummer's, and puffing round the ring on a full trot.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ I thank you, Lady Teazle, for defending her.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, a good defence, truly.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Truly, Lady Teazle is as censorious as Miss Sallow.
+
+_Crab._ Yes, and she is a curious being to pretend to be censorious--an
+awkward thing, without any one good point under the sun.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Positively you shall not be so very severe. Miss Sallow is a
+near relation of mine by marriage, and, as for her person, great
+allowance is to be made; for, let me tell you, a woman labors under many
+disadvantages who tries to pass for a girl of six-and-thirty.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Though, surely, she is handsome still--and for the
+weakness in her eyes, considering how much she reads by candlelight, it
+is not to be wondered at.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ True, and then as to her manner; upon my word I think it is
+particularly graceful, considering she never had the least education;
+for you know her mother was a Welsh milliner, and her father a
+sugar-baker at Bristol.
+
+_Sir Ben._ Ah! you are both of you too good-natured!
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, distressingly good-natured! This their own relation!
+Mercy on me!      [_Aside._
+
+_Mrs. Can._ For my part, I own I cannot bear to hear a friend ill-spoken
+of.
+
+_Sir Pet._ No, to be sure!
+
+_Sir Ben._ Oh! you are of a moral turn. Mrs. Candour and I can sit for
+an hour and hear Lady Stucco talk sentiment.
+
+_Lady Teas._ Nay, I vow Lady Stucco is very well with the dessert after
+dinner; for she's just like the French fruit one cracks for
+mottoes--made up of paint and proverb.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Well, I will never join in ridiculing a friend; and so I
+constantly tell my cousin Ogle, and you all know what pretensions she
+has to be critical on beauty.
+
+_Crab._ Oh, to be sure! she has herself the oddest countenance that ever
+was seen; 'tis a collection of features from all the different countries
+of the globe.
+
+_Sir Ben._ So she has, indeed--an Irish front----
+
+_Crab._ Caledonian locks----
+
+_Sir Ben._ Dutch nose----
+
+_Crab._ Austrian lips----
+
+_Sir Ben._ Complexion of a Spaniard----
+
+_Crab._ And teeth _a la Chinoise_.
+
+_Sir Ben._ In short, her face resembles a _table d'hote_ at Spa--where
+no two guests are of a nation----
+
+_Crab._ Or a congress at the close of a general war--wherein all the
+members, even to her eyes, appear to have a different interest, and her
+nose and chin are the only parties likely to join issue.
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Ha! ha! ha!
+
+_Sir Pet._ Mercy on my life!--a person they dine with twice a
+week!      [_Aside._
+
+_Mrs. Can._ Nay, but I vow you shall not carry the laugh off so--for
+give me leave to say that Mrs. Ogle----
+
+_Sir Pet._ Madam, madam, I beg your pardon--there's no stopping these
+good gentlemen's tongues. But when I tell you, Mrs. Candour, that the
+lady they are abusing is a particular friend of mine, I hope you'll not
+take her part.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Ha! ha! ha! well said, Sir Peter! but you are a cruel
+creature--too phlegmatic yourself for a jest, and too peevish to allow
+wit in others.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ah, madam, true wit is more nearly allied to good nature than
+your ladyship is aware of.
+
+_Lady Teas._ True, Sir Peter; I believe they are so near akin that they
+can never be united.
+
+_Sir Ben._ Or rather, suppose them man and wife, because one seldom sees
+them together.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ But Sir Peter is such an enemy to scandal, I believe he
+would have it put down by parliament.
+
+_Sir Pet._ Positively, madam, if they were to consider the sporting with
+reputation of as much importance as poaching on manors, and pass an act
+for the preservation of fame, as well as game, I believe many would
+thank them for the bill.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Why! Sir Peter; would you deprive us of our privileges?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Ay, madam; and then no person should be permitted to kill
+characters and run down reputations but qualified old maids and
+disappointed widows.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Go, you monster!
+
+_Mrs. Can._ But, surely, you would not be quite so severe on those who
+only report what they hear?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Yes, madam, I would have law merchant for them too; and in
+all cases of slander currency, whenever the drawer of the lie was not to
+be found, the injured parties should have a right to come on any of the
+indorsers.
+
+_Crab._ Well, for my part, I believe there never was a scandalous tale
+without some foundation.
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Come, ladies, shall we sit down to cards in the next room?
+
+_Enter_ Servant, _who whispers_ Sir Peter.
+
+_Sir Pet._ I'll be with them directly.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] I'll get away
+unperceived.      [_Aside._
+
+_Lady Sneer._ Sir Peter, you are not going to leave us?
+
+_Sir Pet._ Your ladyship must excuse me; I'm called away by particular
+business. But I leave my character behind me.      [_Exit._
+
+_Sir Ben._ Well--certainly, Lady Teazle, that lord of yours is a strange
+being: I could tell you some stories of him would make you laugh
+heartily if he were not your husband.
+
+_Lady Teaz._ Oh, pray, don't mind that; come, do let's hear
+them.      [_Exeunt all but_ JOSEPH SURFACE _and_ MARIA.
+
+_Jos. Surf._ Maria, I see you have no satisfaction in this society.
+
+_Mar._ How is it possible I should? If to raise malicious smiles at the
+infirmities or misfortunes of those who have never injured us be the
+province of wit or humor, Heaven grant me a double portion of dulness!
+
+_Jos. Surf._ Yet they appear more ill-natured than they are; they have
+no malice at heart.
+
+_Mar._ Then is their conduct still more contemptible; for, in my
+opinion, nothing could excuse the intemperance of their tongues but a
+natural and uncontrollable bitterness of mind.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[G] For the sake of brevity a part of the first scene has been
+excised. It subsequently appears that Lady Teazle abandons the
+society of the scandal-mongers, and she and her fond but somewhat
+irascible husband become happily reconciled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us
+    To see oursel's as others see us!
+    It wad frae monie a blunder free us
+                  And foolish notion:
+    What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
+                  And e'en devotion!_
+
+         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.[H]
+
+ROBERT BURNS.--1759-1796.
+
+    Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
+      Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
+    Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
+      The short and simple annals of the poor.
+
+        GRAY.
+
+
+    My lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend!
+      No mercenary bard his homage pays;
+    With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,--
+      My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:
+      To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,
+    The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene;
+      The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;
+    What Aiken in a cottage would have been;
+    Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween.
+
+    November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;[1]
+      The short'ning winter-day is near a close;
+    The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;
+      The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose:
+      The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes--
+    This night his weekly moil is at an end,--
+      Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
+    Hoping the morn[2] in ease and rest to spend,
+    And, weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.
+
+    At length his lonely cot appears in view,
+      Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
+    The expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher[3] through,
+      To meet their dad, wi' flichterin[4] noise an' glee.
+      His wee bit ingle,[5] blinkin bonnily,
+    His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile,
+      The lisping infant prattling on his knee,
+    Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,
+      An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil.
+
+    Belyve,[6] the elder bairns come drapping in,
+      At service out, amang the farmers roun';
+    Some ca'[7] the pleugh, some herd, some tentie[8] rin
+      A canny[9] errand to a neebor town:
+      Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
+    In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,
+      Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw[10] new gown,
+    Or deposite[11] her sair-won[12] penny-fee,[13]
+    To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
+
+    Wi' joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet
+      And each for other's welfare kindly spiers:[14]
+    The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed fleet;
+      Each tells the uncos[15] that he sees or hears;
+      The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;
+    Anticipation forward points the view.
+      The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears,
+    Gars[16] auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;
+    The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
+
+    Their master's an' their mistress's command
+      The younkers a' are warned to obey;
+    An' mind their labors wi' an eydent[17] hand,
+      An' ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk[18] or play:
+      "An' oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,
+    An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night!
+      Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,
+    Implore His counsel and assisting might:
+    They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"
+
+    But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
+      Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,
+    Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor
+      To do some errands, and convoy her hame.
+      The wily mother sees the conscious flame
+    Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, an' flush her cheek;
+      Wi' heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name,
+    While Jenny hafflins[19] is afraid to speak;
+    Weel pleas'd the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake.
+
+    Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;[20]
+      A strappan youth; he taks the mother's eye;
+    Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;
+      The father cracks[21] of horses, pleughs, and kye.
+      The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,
+    But, blate[22] an' laithfu',[23] scarce can weel behave;
+      The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
+    What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave;
+    Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave.[24]
+
+    O happy love! where love like this is found!
+      O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!
+    I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
+      And sage experience bids me this declare--
+      "If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
+    One cordial in this melancholy vale,
+      'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
+    In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,
+    Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale."
+
+    Is there, in human form, that bears a heart--
+      A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth!
+    That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
+      Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
+      Curse on his perjur'd arts! dissembling smooth!
+    Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd?
+      Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
+    Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?
+    Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild!
+
+    But now the supper crowns their simple board,
+      The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food
+    The soupe[25] their only hawkie[26] does afford,
+      That 'yont the hallan[27] snugly chows her cood;
+      The dame brings forth, in complimental mood,
+    To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd[28] kebbuck,[29] fell,[30]
+      An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid:
+    The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell
+    How 'twas a towmond[31] auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.[32]
+
+    The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
+      They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
+    The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,
+      The big ha'-Bible,[33] ance his father's pride:
+      His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,
+    His lyart[34] haffets[35] wearing thin an' bare;
+      Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
+    He wales[36] a portion with judicious care;
+    And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.
+
+    They chant their artless notes in simple guise;
+      They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:
+    Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise,
+      Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy of the name;
+      Or noble "Elgin" beets[37] the heavenward flame,
+    The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:
+      Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame;
+    The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise;
+    Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
+
+    The priest-like father reads the sacred page--
+      How Abram was the friend of God on high;
+    Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage
+      With Amalek's ungracious progeny;
+      Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
+    Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;
+      Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
+    Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;
+    Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
+
+    Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme--
+      How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;
+    How He, who bore in Heaven the second name,
+      Had not on earth whereon to lay His head;
+      How His first followers and servants sped;
+    The precepts sage they wrote to many a land;
+      How he, who lone in Patmos banished,
+    Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
+    And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.
+
+    Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,
+      The saint, the father, and the husband prays:
+    Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"
+      That thus they all shall meet in future days:
+      There ever bask in uncreated rays,
+    No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear;
+      Together hymning their Creator's praise,
+    In such society, yet still more dear;
+    While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
+
+    Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride,
+      In all the pomp of method, and of art,
+    When men display to congregations wide
+      Devotion's every grace, except the heart!
+      The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert,
+    The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;
+      But, haply, in some cottage far apart,
+    May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul;
+    And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.
+
+    Then homeward all take off their several way:
+      The youngling cottagers retire to rest;
+    The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
+      And proffer up to Heaven the warm request
+      That He, who stills the raven's clam'rous nest,
+    And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,
+      Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,
+    For them, and for their little ones provide;
+    But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
+
+    From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,
+      That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad:
+    Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;
+      "An honest man's the noblest work of God;"
+      And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,
+    The cottage leaves the palace far behind;
+      What is a lordling's pomp?--a cumbrous load,
+    Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,
+    Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd!
+
+    O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
+      For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent!
+    Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
+      Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
+      And, oh! may Heaven their simple lives prevent
+    From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!
+      Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,
+    A virtuous populace may rise the while,
+    And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle.
+
+    O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide
+      That stream'd through Wallace's undaunted heart;
+    Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,
+      Or nobly die, the second glorious part,
+      (The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art,
+    His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)
+      O never, never, Scotia's realm desert;
+    But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,
+    In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[H] Inscribed to R. Aiken, Esq.
+
+[1] Moan.
+
+[2] Morrow.
+
+[3] Stagger.
+
+[4] Fluttering.
+
+[5] Fire-place.
+
+[6] Presently.
+
+[7] Drive, _i.e._, with shouting or calling.
+
+[8] Attentive.
+
+[9] Requiring judgment.
+
+[10] Brave, fine, handsome.
+
+[11] De'posite, _for_ depos'it.
+
+[12] Dear-won, hard-earned.
+
+[13] Money-wages.
+
+[14] Enquires.
+
+[15] _Unknown_ things, news.
+
+[16] Makes.
+
+[17] Diligent.
+
+[18] Trifle.
+
+[19] Half.
+
+[20] In, into the room.
+
+[21] Talks.
+
+[22] Bashful.
+
+[23] Unwilling, shy.
+
+[24] What is _left_, rest.
+
+[25] Sup; _here_, milk.
+
+[26] White-faced cow.
+
+[27] Partition wall.
+
+[28] Carefully kept.
+
+[29] Cheese.
+
+[30] Tasty.
+
+[31] Twelvemonth.
+
+[32] Since flax was in flower.
+
+[33] Hall-Bible.
+
+[34] Grey, greyish.
+
+[35] Temples, _here_ temple-locks.
+
+[36] Chooses.
+
+[37] Feeds, nourishes.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX. THE LAND O' THE LEAL.
+
+LADY NAIRN.--1766-1845.
+
+
+    I'm wearin' awa', John,
+    Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,
+    I'm wearin' awa'
+      To the land o' the leal.
+    There's nae sorrow there, John;
+    There's neither cauld nor care, John;
+    The day is aye fair
+      In the land o' the leal.
+
+    Our bonnie bairn's there, John;
+    She was baith gude and fair, John;
+    And oh! we grudg'd her sair
+      To the land o' the leal.
+    But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,
+    And joy's a-comin' fast, John,
+    The joy that's aye to last
+      In the land o' the leal.
+
+    Sae dear that joy was bought, John,
+    Sae free the battle fought, John,
+    That sinfu' man e'er brought
+      To the land o' the leal.
+    Oh! dry your glistening e'e, John,
+    My soul langs to be free, John,
+    And angels beckon me
+      To the land o' the leal.
+
+    Oh! haud ye leal and true, John,
+    Your day it's wearin' through, John,
+    And I'll welcome you
+      To the land o' the leal.
+    Now fare-ye weel, my ain John,
+    This warld's cares are vain, John,
+    We'll meet, and we'll be fain
+      In the land o' the leal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Life! we've been long together,
+    Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
+      'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
+      Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
+      Then steal away, give little warning,
+        Choose thine own time;
+    Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime
+        Bid me Good-morning_.
+
+         MRS. BARBAULD.--1743-1825.
+
+
+
+
+XXX. THE TRIAL BY COMBAT AT THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT.[I]
+
+_From_ THE TALISMAN.
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT.--1771-1832.
+
+
+It had been agreed, on account of the heat of the climate, that the
+judicial combat, which was the cause of the present assemblage of
+various nations at the Diamond of the Desert, should take place at one
+hour after sunrise. The wide lists, which had been constructed under the
+inspection of the Knight of the Leopard, enclosed a space of hard sand,
+which was one hundred and twenty yards long by forty in width. They
+extended in length from north to south, so as to give both parties the
+equal advantage of the rising sun. Saladin's royal seat was erected on
+the western side of the enclosure, just in the centre, where the
+combatants were expected to meet in mid encounter. Opposed to this was
+a gallery with closed casements, so contrived, that the ladies, for
+whose accommodation it was erected, might see the fight without being
+themselves exposed to view. At either extremity of the lists was a
+barrier, which could be opened or shut at pleasure. Thrones had been
+also erected, but the Archduke, perceiving that his was lower than King
+Richard's, refused to occupy it; and Coeur de Lion, who would have
+submitted to much ere any formality should have interfered with the
+combat, readily agreed that the sponsors, as they were called, should
+remain on horseback during the fight. At one extremity of the lists were
+placed the followers of Richard, and opposed to them were those who
+accompanied the defender, Conrade. Around the throne destined for the
+Soldan were ranged his splendid Georgian Guards, and the rest of the
+enclosure was occupied by Christian and Mohammedan spectators.
+
+Long before daybreak, the lists were surrounded by even a larger number
+of Saracens than Richard had seen on the preceding evening. When the
+first ray of the sun's glorious orb arose above the desert, the sonorous
+call, "To prayer, to prayer!" was poured forth by the Soldan himself,
+and answered by others, whose rank and zeal entitled them to act as
+muezzins. It was a striking spectacle to see them all sink to earth, for
+the purpose of repeating their devotions, with their faces turned to
+Mecca. But when they arose from the ground, the sun's rays, now
+strengthening fast, seemed to confirm the Lord of Gilsland's conjecture
+of the night before. They were flashed back from many a spear-head, for
+the pointless lances of the preceding day were certainly no longer such.
+De Vaux pointed it out to his master, who answered with impatience, that
+he had perfect confidence in the good faith of the Soldan; but if De
+Vaux was afraid of his bulky body, he might retire.
+
+Soon after this the noise of timbrels was heard, at the sound of which
+the whole Saracen cavaliers threw themselves from their horses, and
+prostrated themselves, as if for a second morning prayer. This was to
+give an opportunity to the Queen, with Edith and her attendants, to pass
+from the pavilion to the gallery intended for them. Fifty guards of
+Saladin's seraglio escorted them, with naked sabres, whose orders were,
+to cut to pieces whomsoever, were he prince or peasant, should venture
+to gaze on the ladies as they passed, or even presume to raise his head
+until the cessation of the music should make all men aware that they
+were lodged in their gallery, not to be gazed on by the curious eye.
+
+This superstitious observance of Oriental reverence to the fair sex
+called forth from Queen Berengaria some criticisms very unfavorable to
+Saladin and his country. But their den, as the royal fair called it,
+being securely closed and guarded by their sable attendants, she was
+under the necessity of contenting herself with seeing, and laying aside
+for the present the still more exquisite pleasure of being seen.
+
+Meantime the sponsors of both champions went, as was their duty, to see
+that they were duly armed, and prepared for combat. The Archduke of
+Austria was in no hurry to perform this part of the ceremony, having had
+rather an unusually severe debauch upon wine of Schiraz the preceding
+evening. But the Grand Master of the Temple, more deeply concerned in
+the event of the combat, was early before the tent of Conrade of
+Montserrat. To his great surprise, the attendants refused him
+admittance.
+
+"Do you not know me, ye knaves?" said the Grand Master in great anger.
+
+"We do, most valiant and reverend," answered Conrade's squire; "but even
+_you_ may not at present enter--the Marquis is about to confess
+himself."
+
+"Confess himself!" exclaimed the Templar, in a tone where alarm mingled
+with surprise and scorn--"and to whom I pray thee?"
+
+"My master bid me be secret," said the squire; on which the Grand Master
+pushed past him, and entered the tent almost by force.
+
+The Marquis of Montserrat was kneeling at the feet of the Hermit of
+Engaddi, and in the act of beginning his confession.
+
+"What means this, Marquis?" said the Grand Master, "up, for shame--or,
+if you must needs confess, am not I here?"
+
+"I have confessed to you too often already," replied Conrade, with a
+pale cheek and a faltering voice. "For God's sake, Grand Master, begone,
+and let me unfold my conscience to this holy man."
+
+"In what is he holier than I am?" said the Grand Master.--"Hermit,
+prophet, madman--say, if thou darest, in what thou excellest me?"
+
+"Bold and bad man," replied the Hermit, "know that I am like the
+latticed window, and the divine light passes through to avail others,
+though alas! it helpeth not me. Thou art like the iron stanchions, which
+neither receive light themselves, nor communicate it to any one."
+
+"Prate not to me, but depart from this tent," said the Grand Master;
+"the Marquis shall not confess this morning, unless it be to me, for I
+part not from his side."
+
+"Is this _your_ pleasure?" said the Hermit to Conrade; "for think not I
+will obey that proud man, if you continue to desire my assistance."
+
+"Alas!" said Conrade irresolutely, "what would you have me say? Farewell
+for a while--we will speak anon."
+
+"O, procrastination!" exclaimed the Hermit, "thou art a
+soul-murderer!--Unhappy man, farewell; not for a while, but until we
+both shall meet--no matter where.--And for thee," he added, turning to
+the Grand Master, "TREMBLE!"
+
+"Tremble!" replied the Templar contemptuously, "I cannot if I would."
+
+The Hermit heard not his answer, having left the tent.
+
+"Come! to this gear hastily," said the Grand Master, "since thou wilt
+needs go through the foolery.--Hark thee--I think I know most of thy
+frailties by heart, so we may omit the detail, which may be somewhat a
+long one, and begin with the absolution. What signifies counting the
+spots of dirt that we are about to wash from our hands?"
+
+"Knowing what thou art thyself," said Conrade, "it is blasphemous to
+speak of pardoning another."
+
+"That is not according to the canon, Lord Marquis," said the Templar;
+"thou art more scrupulous than orthodox. The absolution of the wicked
+priest is as effectual as if he were himself a saint; otherwise,--God
+help the poor penitent! What wounded man inquires whether the surgeon
+that tents his gashes have clean hands or not?--Come, shall we to this
+toy?"
+
+"No," said Conrade, "I will rather die unconfessed than mock the
+sacrament."
+
+"Come, noble Marquis," said the Templar, "rouse up your courage, and
+speak not thus. In an hour's time thou shalt stand victorious in the
+lists, or confess thee in thy helmet, like a valiant knight."
+
+"Alas, Grand Master!" answered Conrade, "all augurs ill for this affair.
+The strange discovery by the instinct of a dog, the revival of this
+Scottish knight, who comes into the lists like a spectre,--all betokens
+evil."
+
+"Pshaw!" said the Templar, "I have seen thee bend thy lance boldly
+against him in sport, and with equal chance of success. Think thou art
+but in a tournament, and who bears him better in the tilt-yard than
+thou?--Come, squires and armorers, your master must be accoutred for the
+field."
+
+The attendants entered accordingly, and began to arm the Marquis.
+
+"What morning is without?" said Conrade.
+
+"The sun rises dimly," answered a squire.
+
+"Thou seest, Grand Master," said Conrade, "naught smiles on us."
+
+"Thou wilt fight the more coolly, my son," answered the Templar. "Thank
+Heaven that hath tempered the sun of Palestine to suit thine occasion."
+
+Thus jested the Grand Master; but his jests had lost their influence on
+the harassed mind of the Marquis, and, notwithstanding his attempts to
+seem gay, his gloom communicated itself to the Templar.
+
+"This craven," he thought, "will lose the day in pure faintness and
+cowardice of heart, which he calls tender conscience. I, whom visions
+and auguries shake not--who am firm in my purpose as the living rock--I
+should have fought the combat myself.--Would to God the Scot may strike
+him dead on the spot; it were next best to his winning the victory. But,
+come what will, he must have no other confessor than myself. Our sins
+are too much in common, and he might confess my share with his own."
+
+While these thoughts passed through his mind, he continued to assist the
+Marquis in arming, but it was in silence.
+
+The hour at length arrived, the trumpets sounded, the knights rode into
+the lists armed at all points, and mounted like men who were to do
+battle for a kingdom's honor. They wore their visors up, and, riding
+around the lists three times, showed themselves to the spectators. Both
+were goodly persons, and both had noble countenances. But there was an
+air of manly confidence on the brow of the Scot, a radiancy of hope,
+which amounted even to cheerfulness, while, although pride and effort
+had recalled much of Conrade's natural courage, there lowered still on
+his brow a cloud of ominous despondence. Even his steed seemed to tread
+less lightly and blithely to the trumpet-sound than the noble Arab which
+was bestrode by Sir Kenneth; and the _spruch-sprecher_ shook his head
+while he observed, that while the challenger rode around the lists in
+the course of the sun--that is, from right to left--the defender made
+the same circuit _widder-sins_--that is, from left to right--which is in
+most countries held ominous.
+
+A temporary altar was erected just beneath the gallery occupied by the
+Queen, and beside it stood the Hermit in the dress of his order, as a
+Carmelite friar. Other churchmen were also present. To this altar the
+challenger and defender were successively brought forward, conducted by
+their respective sponsors. Dismounting before it, each knight avouched
+the justice of his cause by a solemn oath on the Evangelists, and prayed
+that his success might be according to the truth or falsehood of what he
+then swore. They also made oath, that they came to do battle in knightly
+guise, and with the usual weapons, disclaiming the use of spells,
+charms, or magical devices, to incline victory to their side. The
+challenger pronounced his vow with a firm and manly voice, and a bold
+and cheerful countenance. When the ceremony was finished, the Scottish
+Knight looked at the gallery, and bent his head to the earth, as if in
+honor of those invisible beauties which were enclosed within; then,
+loaded with armor as he was, sprung to the saddle without the use of the
+stirrup, and made his courser carry him in a succession of caracoles to
+his station at the eastern extremity of the lists. Conrade also
+presented himself before the altar with boldness enough; but his voice,
+as he took the oath, sounded hollow, as if drowned in his helmet. The
+lips with which he appealed to Heaven to adjudge victory to the just
+quarrel, grew white as they uttered the impious mockery. As he turned
+to remount his horse, the Grand Master approached him closer, as if to
+rectify something about the sitting of his gorget, and whispered,
+"Coward and fool! recall thy senses, and do me this battle bravely;
+else, by Heaven, shouldst thou escape him, thou escapest not _me_!"
+
+The savage tone in which this was whispered, perhaps completed the
+confusion of the Marquis's nerves, for he stumbled as he made to horse;
+and though he recovered his feet, sprung to the saddle with his usual
+agility, and displayed his address in horsemanship as he assumed his
+position opposite to the challenger's, yet the accident did not escape
+those who were on the watch for omens, which might predict the fate of
+the day.
+
+The priests, after a solemn prayer that God would show the rightful
+quarrel, departed from the lists. The trumpets of the challenger then
+rung a flourish, and the herald-at-arms proclaimed at the eastern end
+of the lists,--"Here stands a good knight, Sir Kenneth of Scotland,
+champion for the royal King Richard of England, who accuseth Conrade,
+Marquis of Montserrat, of foul treason and dishonor done to the said
+King."
+
+When the words Kenneth of Scotland announced the name and character of
+the champion, hitherto scarce generally known, a loud and cheerful
+acclaim burst from the followers of King Richard, and hardly,
+notwithstanding repeated commands of silence, suffered the reply of the
+defendant to be heard. He, of course, avouched his innocence, and
+offered his body for battle. The esquires of the combatants now
+approached, and delivered to each his shield and lance, assisting to
+hang the former around his neck, that his two hands might remain free,
+one for the management of the bridle, the other to direct the lance.
+
+The shield of the Scot displayed his old bearing, the leopard, but with
+the addition of a collar and broken chain, in allusion to his late
+captivity. The shield of the Marquis bore, in reference to his title, a
+serrated and rocky mountain. Each shook his lance aloft, as if to
+ascertain the weight and toughness of the unwieldy weapon, and then laid
+it in the rest. The sponsors, heralds, and squires, now retired to the
+barriers, and the combatants sat opposite to each other, face to face,
+with couched lance and closed visor, the human form so completely
+enclosed, that they looked more like statues of molten iron than beings
+of flesh and blood. The silence of suspense was now general--men
+breathed thicker, and their very souls seemed seated in their eyes,
+while not a sound was to be heard save the snorting and pawing of the
+good steeds, who, sensible of what was about to happen, were impatient
+to dash into career. They stood thus for perhaps three minutes, when at
+a signal given by the Soldan, an hundred instruments rent the air with
+their brazen clamors, and each champion striking his horse with the
+spurs, and slacking the rein, the horses started into full gallop, and
+the knights met in mid space with a shock like a thunderbolt. The
+victory was not in doubt--no, not one moment. Conrade, indeed, showed
+himself a practised warrior; for he struck his antagonist knightly in
+the midst of his shield, bearing his lance so straight and true, that it
+shivered into splinters from the steel spear-head up to the very
+gauntlet. The horse of Sir Kenneth recoiled two or three yards and fell
+on his haunches, but the rider easily raised him with hand and rein. But
+for Conrade there was no recovery. Sir Kenneth's lance had pierced
+through the shield, through a plated corselet of Milan steel, through a
+_secret_, or coat of linked mail, worn beneath the corselet, had
+wounded him deep in the bosom, and borne him from his saddle, leaving
+the truncheon of the lance fixed in his wound. The sponsors, heralds,
+and Saladin himself, descending from his throne, crowded around the
+wounded man; while Sir Kenneth, who had drawn his sword ere yet he
+discovered his antagonist was totally helpless, now commanded him to
+avow his guilt. The helmet was hastily unclosed, and the wounded man,
+gazing wildly on the skies, replied, "What would you more? God hath
+decided justly. I am guilty--but there are worse traitors in the camp
+than I.--In pity to my soul, let me have a confessor!"
+
+He revived as he uttered these words.
+
+"The talisman--the powerful remedy, royal brother," said King Richard to
+Saladin.
+
+"The traitor," answered the Soldan, "is more fit to be dragged from the
+lists to the gallows by the heels, than to profit by its virtues: and
+some such fate is in his look," he added, after gazing fixedly upon the
+wounded man; "for though his wound may be cured, yet Azrael's seal is on
+the wretch's brow."
+
+"Nevertheless," said Richard, "I pray you do for him what you may, that
+he may at least have time for confession. Slay not soul and body! To him
+one half-hour of time may be worth more, by ten thousand fold, than the
+life of the oldest patriarch."
+
+"My royal brother's wish shall be obeyed," said Saladin.--"Slaves, bear
+this wounded man to our tent."
+
+"Do not so," said the Templar, who had hitherto stood gloomily looking
+on in silence. "The royal Duke of Austria and myself will not permit
+this unhappy Christian prince to be delivered over to the Saracens,
+that they may try their spells upon him. We are his sponsors, and demand
+that he be assigned to our care."
+
+"That is, you refuse the certain means offered to recover him?" said
+Richard.
+
+"Not so," said the Grand Master, recollecting himself. "If the Soldan
+useth lawful medicines, he may attend the patient in my tent."
+
+"Do so, I pray thee, good brother," said Richard to Saladin, "though the
+permission be ungraciously yielded.--But now to a more glorious work.
+Sound, trumpets--shout, England, in honor of England's champion!"
+
+Drum, clarion, trumpet, and cymbal, rung forth at once, and the deep and
+regular shout, which for ages has been the English acclamation, sounded
+amidst the shrill and irregular yells of the Arabs, like the diapason of
+the organ amid the howling of a storm. There was silence at length.
+
+"Brave Knight of the Leopard," resumed Coeur de Lion, "thou hast shown
+that the Ethiopian _may_ change his skin and the Leopard his spots,
+though clerks quote Scripture for the impossibility. Yet I have more to
+say to you when I have conducted you to the presence of the ladies, the
+best judges, and best rewarders, of deeds of chivalry."
+
+The Knight of the Leopard bowed assent.
+
+"And thou, princely Saladin, wilt also attend them. I promise thee our
+Queen will not think herself welcome, if she lacks the opportunity to
+thank her royal host for her most princely reception."
+
+Saladin bent his head gracefully, but declined the invitation.
+
+"I must attend the wounded man," he said. "The leech leaves not his
+patient more than the champion the lists, even if he be summoned to a
+bower like those of Paradise.... At noon," said the Soldan, as he
+departed, "I trust ye will all accept a collation under the black
+camel-skin tent of a chief of Curdistan."
+
+The same invitation was circulated among the Christians, comprehending
+all those of sufficient importance to be admitted to sit at a feast made
+for princes.
+
+"Hark!" said Richard, "the timbrels announce that our Queen and her
+attendants are leaving their gallery; and see, the turbans sink on the
+ground, as if struck down by a destroying angel. All lie prostrate, as
+if the glance of an Arab's eye could sully the lustre of a lady's cheek!
+Come, we will to the pavillion, and lead our conqueror thither in
+triumph. How I pity that noble Soldan, who knows but of love as it is
+known to those of inferior nature!"
+
+Blondel tuned his harp to its boldest measure, to welcome the
+introduction of the victor into the pavilion of Queen Berengaria.
+He entered, supported on either side by his sponsors, Richard and
+William Longsword, and knelt gracefully down before the Queen, though
+more than half the homage was silently rendered to Edith, who sat on
+her right hand.
+
+
+"Unarm him, my mistresses," said the King, whose delight was in the
+execution of such chivalrous usages; "let Beauty honor Chivalry! Undo
+his spurs, Berengaria; Queen though thou be, thou owest him what marks
+of favor thou canst give.--Unlace his helmet, Edith; by this hand, thou
+shalt, wert thou the proudest Plantagenet of the line, and he the
+poorest knight on earth!"
+
+Both ladies obeyed the royal commands,--Berengaria with bustling
+assiduity, as anxious to gratify her husband's humor, and Edith
+blushing and growing pale alternately, as slowly and awkwardly she
+undid, with Longsword's assistance, the fastenings which secured the
+helmet to the gorget.
+
+"And what expect you from beneath this iron shell?" said Richard, as the
+removal of the casque gave to view the noble countenance of Sir Kenneth,
+his face glowing with recent exertion, and not less so with present
+emotion. "What think ye of him, gallants and beauties?" said Richard.
+"Doth he resemble an Ethiopian slave, or doth he present the face of an
+obscure and nameless adventurer? No, by my good sword! Here terminate
+his various disguises. He hath knelt down before you, unknown save by
+his worth; he arises, equally distinguished by birth and by fortune. The
+adventurous knight, Kenneth, arises David, Earl of Huntingdon, Prince
+Royal of Scotland!"
+
+There was a general exclamation of surprise, and Edith dropped from her
+hand the helmet which she had just received....
+
+"May we know of your grace by what strange and happy chance this riddle
+has been read?" said the Queen Berengaria.
+
+"Letters were brought to us from England," said the King, "in which we
+learned, among other unpleasant news, that the King of Scotland had
+seized upon three of our nobles, when on a pilgrimage to Saint Ninian,
+and alleged as a cause, that his heir being supposed to be fighting in
+the ranks of the Teutonic Knights, against the heathen of Borussia, was,
+in fact, in our camp and in our power; and, therefore, William proposed
+to hold these nobles as hostages for his safety. This gave me the first
+light on the real rank of the Knight of the Leopard, and my suspicions
+were confirmed by De Vaux, who, on his return from Ascalon, brought back
+with him the Earl of Huntingdon's sole attendant, a thick-skulled slave,
+who had gone thirty miles to unfold to De Vaux a secret he should have
+told to me."
+
+"Old Strauchan must be excused," said the Lord of Gilsland. "He knew
+from experience that my heart is somewhat softer than if I wrote myself
+Plantagenet."
+
+"Thy heart soft? thou commodity of old iron, and Cumberland flint that
+thou art!" exclaimed the King. "It is we Plantagenets who boast soft and
+feeling hearts, Edith," he continued, turning to his cousin, with an
+expression which called the blood into her cheek.--"Give me thy hand, my
+fair cousin, and, Prince of Scotland, thine."...
+
+It is needless to follow into further particulars the conferences at the
+royal tent, or to enquire whether David, Earl of Huntingdon, was as mute
+in the presence of Edith Plantagenet, as when he was bound to act under
+the character of an obscure and nameless adventurer. It may be well
+believed that he there expressed, with suitable earnestness, the passion
+to which he had so often before found it difficult to give words.
+
+The hour of noon now approached, and Saladin waited to receive the
+Princes of Christendom in a tent, which, but for its large size,
+differed little from that of the ordinary shelter of the common Curdman,
+or Arab; yet, beneath its ample and sable covering, was prepared a
+banquet after the most gorgeous fashion of the East, extended upon
+carpets of the richest stuffs, with cushions laid for the guests. But we
+cannot stop to describe the cloth of gold and silver, the superb
+embroidery in Arabesque, the shawls of Cashmere, and the muslins of
+India, which were here unfolded in all their splendor; far less to tell
+the different sweetmeats, ragouts edged with rice colored in various
+manners, with all the other niceties of Eastern cookery. Lambs roasted
+whole, and game and poultry dressed in pilaus, were piled in vessels of
+gold, and silver, and porcelain, and intermixed with large mazers of
+sherbet, cooled in snow and ice from the caverns of Mount Lebanon. A
+magnificent pile of cushions at the head of the banquet, seemed prepared
+for the master of the feast, and such dignitaries as he might call to
+share that place of distinction, while from the roof of the tent in all
+quarters, but over this seat of eminence in particular, waved many a
+banner and pennon, the trophies of battles won, and kingdoms overthrown.
+But amongst and above them all, a long lance displayed a shroud, the
+banner of Death, with this impressive inscription, "SALADIN, KING OF
+KINGS--SALADIN, VICTOR OF VICTORS--SALADIN MUST DIE." Amid these
+preparations, the slaves who had arranged the refreshments stood with
+drooped heads and folded arms, mute and motionless as monumental
+statuary, or as automata, which waited the touch of the artist to put
+them in motion.
+
+Expecting the approach of his princely guests, the Soldan, imbued, as
+most were, with the superstitions of his time, paused over a horoscope
+and corresponding scroll, which had been sent to him by the Hermit of
+Engaddi when he departed from the camp.
+
+"Strange and mysterious science," he muttered to himself, "which,
+pretending to draw the curtain of futurity, misleads those whom it seems
+to guide, and darkens the scene which it pretends to illuminate! Who
+would not have said that I was that enemy most dangerous to Richard,
+whose enmity was to be ended by marriage with his kinswoman? Yet it now
+appears that a union betwixt this gallant Earl and the lady will bring
+about friendship betwixt Richard and Scotland, an enemy more dangerous
+than I, as a wild cat in a chamber is more to be dreaded than a lion in
+a distant desert.--But then,...--How now, what means this intrusion?"
+
+He spoke to the dwarf Nectabanus, who rushed into the tent fearfully
+agitated, with each strange and disproportioned feature wrenched by
+horror into still more extravagant ugliness,--his mouth open, his eyes
+staring, his hands, with their shrivelled and deformed fingers, wildly
+expanded.
+
+"What now?" said the Soldan, sternly.
+
+"_Accipe hoc!_" groaned out the dwarf.
+
+"Ha! say'st thou?" answered Saladin.
+
+"_Accipe hoc!_" replied the panic-struck creature, unconscious, perhaps,
+that he repeated the same words as before.
+
+"Hence! I am in no vein for foolery," said the Emperor.
+
+"Nor am I further fool," said the dwarf, "than to make my folly help out
+my wits to earn my bread, poor helpless wretch!--Hear, hear me, great
+Soldan!"
+
+"Nay, if thou hast actual wrong to complain of," said Saladin, "fool or
+wise, thou art entitled to the ear of a King.--Retire hither with me;"
+and he led him into the inner tent.
+
+Whatever their conference related to, it was soon broken off by the
+fanfare of the trumpets, announcing the arrival of the various Christian
+princes, whom Saladin welcomed to his tent with a royal courtesy well
+becoming their rank and his own; but chiefly he saluted the young Earl
+of Huntingdon, and generously congratulated him upon prospects, which
+seemed to have interfered with and overclouded those which he had
+himself entertained.
+
+"But think not," said the Soldan, "thou noble youth, that the Prince of
+Scotland is more welcome to Saladin, than was Kenneth to the solitary
+Ilderim when they met in the desert, or the distressed Ethiop to the
+Hakim Adonbec. A brave and generous disposition like thine hath a value
+independent of condition and birth, as the cool draught which I here
+proffer thee, is as delicious from an earthen vessel as from a goblet of
+gold."
+
+The Earl of Huntingdon made a suitable reply, gratefully acknowledging
+the various important services he had received from the generous Soldan;
+but when he had pledged Saladin in the bowl of sherbet which the Soldan
+had proffered to him, he could not help remarking with a smile, "The
+brave cavalier, Ilderim, knew not of the formation of ice, but the
+munificent Soldan cools his sherbet with snow."
+
+"Wouldst thou have an Arab or a Curdman as wise as a Hakim?" said the
+Soldan. "He who does on a disguise must make the sentiments of his heart
+and the learning of his head accord with the dress which he assumes. I
+desired to see how a brave and single-hearted cavalier of Frangistan
+would conduct himself in debate with such a chief as I then seemed; and
+I questioned the truth of a well-known fact, to know by what arguments
+thou wouldst support thy assertion."
+
+While they were speaking, the Archduke of Austria, who stood a little
+apart, was struck with the mention of iced sherbet, and took with
+pleasure and some bluntness the deep goblet, as the Earl of Huntingdon
+was about to replace it.
+
+"Most delicious!" he exclaimed, after a deep draught, which the heat of
+the weather, and the feverishness following the debauch of the preceding
+day, had rendered doubly acceptable. He sighed as he handed the cup to
+the Grand Master of the Templars. Saladin made a sign to the dwarf, who
+advanced and pronounced, with a harsh voice, the words, _Accipe hoc!_
+The Templar started, like a steed who sees a lion under a bush, beside
+the pathway; yet instantly recovered, and to hide, perhaps, his
+confusion, raised the goblet to his lips;--but those lips never touched
+that goblet's rim. The sabre of Saladin left its sheath as lightning
+leaves the cloud. It was waved in the air,--and the head of the Grand
+Master rolled to the extremity of the tent, while the trunk remained,
+for a second, standing, with the goblet still clenched in its grasp,
+then fell, the liquor mingling with the blood that spurted from the
+veins.
+
+There was a general exclamation of treason, and Austria, nearest to whom
+Saladin stood with the bloody sabre in his hand, started back as if
+apprehensive that his turn was to come next. Richard and others laid
+hand on their swords.
+
+"Fear nothing, noble Austria," said Saladin, as composedly as if nothing
+had happened, "nor you, royal England, be wroth at what you have seen.
+Not for his manifold treasons;--not for the attempt which, as may be
+vouched by his own squire, he instigated against King Richard's
+life;--not that he pursued the Prince of Scotland and myself in the
+desert, reducing us to save our lives by the speed of our horses;--not
+that he had stirred up the Maronites to attack us upon this very
+occasion, had I not brought up unexpectedly so many Arabs as rendered
+the scheme abortive;--not for any or all of these crimes does he now
+lie there, although each were deserving such a doom;--but because,
+scarce half-an-hour ere he polluted our presence, as the simoom
+empoisons the atmosphere, he poniarded his comrade and accomplice,
+Conrade of Montserrat, lest he should confess the infamous plots in
+which they had both been engaged."
+
+"How! Conrade murdered?--And by the Grand Master, his sponsor and most
+intimate friend!" exclaimed Richard. "Noble Soldan, I would not doubt
+thee; yet this must be proved; otherwise"----
+
+"There stands the evidence," said Saladin, pointing to the terrified
+dwarf. "Allah, who sends the fire-fly to illuminate the night-season,
+can discover secret crimes by the most contemptible means."
+
+The Soldan proceeded to tell the dwarf's story, which amounted to
+this.--In his foolish curiosity, or as he partly confessed, with some
+thoughts of pilfering, Nectabanus had strayed into the tent of Conrade,
+which had been deserted by his attendants, some of whom had left the
+encampment to carry the news of his defeat to his brother, and others
+were availing themselves of the means which Saladin had supplied for
+revelling. The wounded man slept under the influence of Saladin's
+wonderful talisman, so that the dwarf had opportunity to pry about at
+pleasure, until he was frightened into concealment by the sound of a
+heavy step. He skulked behind a curtain, yet could see the motions, and
+hear the words of the Grand Master, who entered, and carefully secured
+the covering of the pavillion behind him. His victim started from sleep,
+and it would appear that he instantly suspected the purpose of his old
+associate, for it was in a tone of alarm that he demanded wherefore he
+disturbed him.
+
+"I come to confess and absolve thee," answered the Grand Master.
+
+Of their further speech the terrified dwarf remembered little, save that
+Conrade implored the Grand Master not to break a wounded reed, and that
+the Templar struck him to the heart with a Turkish dagger, with the
+words _Accipe hoc_,--words which long afterward haunted the terrified
+imagination of the concealed witness.
+
+"I verified the tale," said Saladin, "by causing the body to be
+examined; and I made this unhappy being, whom Allah hath made the
+discoverer of the crime, repeat in your own presence the words which the
+murderer spoke, and you yourselves saw the effect which they produced
+upon his conscience."
+
+The Soldan paused, and the King of England broke silence:--
+
+"If this be true, as I doubt not, we have witnessed a great act of
+justice, though it bore a different aspect. But wherefore in this
+presence? wherefore with thine own hand?"
+
+"I had designed otherwise," said Saladin, "but had I not hastened his
+doom, it had been altogether averted, since, if I had permitted him to
+taste of my cup, as he was about to do, how could I, without incurring
+the brand of inhospitality, have done him to death as he deserved? Had
+he murdered my father, and afterward partaken of my food and my bowl,
+not a hair of his head could have been injured by me. But enough of him;
+let his carcass and his memory be removed from amongst us."
+
+The body was carried away, and the marks of the slaughter obliterated or
+concealed with such ready dexterity, as showed that the case was not
+altogether so uncommon, as to paralyze the assistants and officers of
+Saladin's household.
+
+But the Christian princes felt that the scene which they had beheld
+weighed heavily on their spirits, and although, at the courteous
+invitation of the Soldan, they assumed their seats at the banquet, yet
+it was with the silence of doubt and amazement. The spirits of Richard
+alone surmounted all cause for suspicion or embarrassment. Yet he, too,
+seemed to ruminate on some proposition, as if he were desirous of making
+it in the most insinuating and acceptable manner which was possible. At
+length he drank off a large bowl of wine, and addressing the Soldan,
+desired to know whether it was not true that he had honored the Earl of
+Huntingdon with a personal encounter.
+
+Saladin answered with a smile, that he had proved his horse and his
+weapons with the heir of Scotland, as cavaliers are wont to do with each
+other when they meet in the desert; and modestly added that, though the
+combat was not entirely decisive, he had not, on his part, much reason
+to pride himself on the event. The Scot, on the other hand, disclaimed
+the attributed superiority, and wished to assign it to the Soldan.
+
+"Enough of honor thou hast had in the encounter," said Richard, "and I
+envy thee more for that, than for the smiles of Edith Plantagenet,
+though one of them might reward a bloody day's work.--But what say you,
+noble princes; is it fitting that such a royal ring of chivalry should
+break up without something being done for future times to speak of? What
+is the overthrow and death of a traitor, to such a fair garland of honor
+as is here assembled, and which ought not to part without witnessing
+something more worthy of their regard? How say you, princely Soldan;
+what if we two should now, and before this fair company, decide the
+long-contended question for this land of Palestine, and end at once
+these tedious wars? Yonder are the lists ready, nor can Paynimrie ever
+hope a better champion than thou. I, unless worthier offers, will lay
+down my gauntlet in behalf of Christendom, and, in all love and honor,
+we will do mortal battle for the possession of Jerusalem."
+
+There was a deep pause for the Soldan's answer. His cheek and brow
+colored highly, and it was the opinion of many present that he hesitated
+whether he should accept the challenge. At length he said: "Fighting for
+the Holy City against those whom we regard as idolaters, and worshippers
+of stocks and stones, and graven images, I might confide that Allah
+would strengthen my arm; or if I fell beneath the sword of the Melech
+Ric, I could not pass to Paradise by a more glorious death. But Allah
+has already given Jerusalem to the true believers, and it were a
+tempting the God of the Prophet to peril, upon my own personal strength
+and skill, that which I hold securely by the superiority of my forces."
+
+"If not for Jerusalem, then," said Richard, in the tone of one who would
+entreat a favor of an intimate friend, "yet, for the love of honor, let
+us run at least three courses with grinded lances."
+
+"Even this," said Saladin, half smiling at Coeur de Lion's
+affectionate earnestness for the combat, "even this I may not lawfully
+do. The Master places the shepherd over the flock, not for the
+shepherd's own sake, but for the sake of the sheep. Had I a son to hold
+the sceptre when I fell, I might have had the liberty, as I have the
+will, to brave this bold encounter; but your own Scripture sayeth, that
+when the herdsman is smitten, the sheep are scattered."
+
+"Thou hast had all the fortune," said Richard, turning to the Earl of
+Huntingdon with a sigh. "I would have given the best year of my life for
+that one half-hour beside the Diamond of the Desert!"
+
+The chivalrous extravagance of Richard awakened the spirits of the
+assembly, and when at length they arose to depart, Saladin advanced and
+took Coeur de Lion by the hand.
+
+"Noble King of England," he said, "we now part, never to meet again.
+That your league is dissolved, no more to be reunited, and that your
+native forces are far too few to enable you to prosecute your
+enterprise, is as well known to me as to yourself. I may not yield you
+up that Jerusalem which you so much desire to hold. It is to us, as to
+you, a Holy City. But whatever other terms Richard demands of Saladin,
+shall be as willingly yielded as yonder fountain yields its waters. Ay,
+and the same should be as frankly afforded by Saladin, if Richard stood
+in the desert with but two archers in his train!"
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[I] While the army of the crusaders was inactive near Ascalon, a
+truce having been agreed to between the Saracens and their
+assailants, the Grand Master of the Templars, Conrade Marquis of
+Montserrat, and others of the Christian Princes, were plotting to
+effect its dismemberment. Richard of England was the leading spirit
+of the crusade, and the plotters wished either to get rid of him or
+to inspire his colleagues with jealousy of his leadership. The Grand
+Master sought to have the King assassinated. Conrade tried to break
+up the league by milder means: he first provoked the Duke of Austria
+to insult the English banner; and then thinking rightly that the
+suspicion and wrath of Richard would fall upon Austria, he secretly
+stole the banner from its place. Its safe-keeping, after Austria's
+insult, had been entrusted by the King to Sir Kenneth, known as the
+Knight of the Leopard, in reality David Prince of Scotland, who in
+the disguise of an obscure gentleman had joined the crusade as a
+follower of the English King. Sir Kenneth was innocently decoyed from
+his watch, and in his absence, the banner, left with but his dog to
+guard it, was stolen by Conrade. For his failure of duty. Sir Kenneth
+was condemned to immediate death, but Saladin, who in the disguise of
+an Arab physician was in the English camp, and who had rescued the
+King from death by fever, urgently interceding, his life was spared.
+Saladin took Sir Kenneth to the camp of the Saracens, and knowing his
+worth and valor, having previously had knightly encounter with him in
+the desert, disguised him as a Nubian slave, and sent him as a
+present to Richard with the hope that he might in some way discover
+by whom the banner had been stolen. Attending Richard as a slave Sir
+Kenneth saved the king from the assassination which the Grand Master
+had instigated, and aided by the instinct of his dog, also disguised,
+he detected the thief in Conrade. Richard thereupon, at once charged
+Conrade with the theft, and challenged him to mortal combat. The King
+was prevented by the Council of the Princes from fighting in person,
+but having divined in the Nubian slave the former Knight of the
+Leopard, he permitted Sir Kenneth to fight in his stead, that the
+knight might atone for the dishonor of being faithless in his watch.
+Conrade's cause was espoused by the Grand Master, who had been his
+confidant, and by the Duke of Austria. The encounter was appointed to
+take place at the Diamond of the Desert, in the territory of Saladin,
+who was asked to act as umpire. It had been stipulated that but five
+hundred Saracens should be present at the trial; Saladin, however,
+having been apprised of further plotting on the part of the Grand
+Master, for safety's sake caused a larger attendance of his
+followers. Sir Kenneth had long loved Edith Plantagenet, but being
+known to her only as a poor and nameless adventurer, he had not yet
+openly avowed his love.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL.
+
+(AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND.)
+
+WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.--1770-1850.
+
+
+    Sweet Highland girl, a very shower
+    Of beauty is thy earthly dower!
+    Twice seven consenting years have shed
+    Their utmost bounty on thy head:
+    And these gray rocks; this household lawn;
+    These trees, a veil just half withdrawn;
+    This fall of water, that doth make
+    A murmur near the silent lake;
+    This little bay, a quiet road
+    That holds in shelter thy abode;
+    In truth, together do ye seem
+    Like something fashion'd in a dream;
+    Such forms as from their covert peep
+    When earthly cares are laid asleep!
+    Yet, dream and vision as thou art,
+    I bless thee with a human heart:
+    God shield thee to thy latest years!
+    Thee neither know I nor thy peers;
+    And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears.
+
+      With earnest feeling I shall pray
+    For thee when I am far away:
+    For never saw I mien, or face,
+    In which more plainly I could trace
+    Benignity and home-bred sense
+    Ripening in perfect innocence.
+    Here scatter'd like a random seed,
+    Remote from men, thou dost not need
+    The embarrass'd look of shy distress,
+    And maidenly shamefacedness:
+    Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear
+    The freedom of a mountaineer:
+    A face with gladness overspread!
+    Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!
+    And seemliness complete, that sways
+    Thy courtesies, about thee plays;
+    With no restraint, but such as springs
+    From quick and eager visitings
+    Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach
+    Of thy few words of English speech:
+    A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife
+    That gives thy gestures grace and life!
+    So have I, not unmov'd in mind,
+    Seen birds of tempest-loving kind,
+    Thus beating up against the wind.
+
+      What hand but would a garland cull
+    For thee who art so beautiful?
+    O happy pleasure! here to dwell
+    Beside thee in some heathy dell;
+    Adopt your homely ways, and dress,
+    A shepherd, thou a shepherdess!
+    But I could frame a wish for thee
+    More like a grave reality:
+    Thou art to me but as a wave
+    Of the wild sea; and I would have
+    Some claim upon thee, if I could,
+    Though but of common neighborhood.
+    What joy to hear thee, and to see!
+    Thy elder brother I would be,
+    Thy father, anything to thee!
+
+      Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace
+    Hath led me to this lonely place.
+    Joy have I had; and going hence
+    I bear away my recompense.
+    In spots like these it is we prize
+    Our memory, feel that she hath eyes:
+    Then, why should I be loth to stir?
+    I feel this place was made for her;
+    To give new pleasure like the past,
+    Continued long as life shall last.
+    Nor am I loth, though pleas'd at heart,
+    Sweet Highland girl! from thee to part;
+    For I, methinks, till I grow old,
+    As fair before me shall behold,
+    As I do now, the cabin small,
+    The lake, the bay, the waterfall;
+    And thee, the spirit of them all!
+
+
+
+
+XXXII. FRANCE: AN ODE.
+
+(1797.)
+
+SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.--1772-1834.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause,
+      Whose pathless march no mortal may control!
+      Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll,
+    Yield homage only to eternal laws!
+    Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing,
+      Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclin'd,
+    Save when your own imperious branches, swinging,
+      Have made a solemn music of the wind!
+        Where, like a man belov'd of God,
+        Through glooms, which never woodman trod,
+      How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
+    My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,
+      Inspir'd, beyond the guess of folly,
+    By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!
+    O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!
+      And O ye Clouds that far above me soar'd!
+    Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!
+    Yea, every thing that is and will be free!
+    Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,
+      With what deep worship I have still ador'd
+    The spirit of divinest Liberty.
+
+
+II.
+
+    When France in wrath her giant-limbs uprear'd,
+      And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea,
+      Stamp'd her strong foot and said she would be free,
+    Bear witness for me, how I hoped and fear'd!
+    With what a joy my lofty gratulation
+      Unaw'd I sang, amid a slavish band;
+    And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,
+      Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand.
+        The Monarchs march'd in evil day,
+        And Britain join'd the dire array,
+      Though dear her shores and circling ocean,
+    Though many friendships, many youthful loves,
+      Had swoll'n the patriot emotion,
+    And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves;
+    Yet still my voice, unalter'd, sang defeat
+      To all that brav'd the tyrant-quelling lance,
+    And shame too long delay'd and vain retreat!
+    For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim
+    I dimm'd thy light or damp'd thy holy flame;
+      But bless'd the paeans of deliver'd France,
+    And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.
+
+
+III.
+
+    "And what," I said, "though Blasphemy's loud scream
+      With that sweet music of deliverance strove!
+      Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove
+    A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream!
+    Ye Storms, that round the dawning east assembled,
+      The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!"
+    And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,
+      The dissonance ceas'd, and all seem'd calm and bright;
+        When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory
+        Conceal'd with clustering wreaths of glory;
+      When, insupportably advancing,
+    Her arm made mockery of the warrior's tramp,
+      While, timid looks of fury glancing,
+    Domestic treason, crush'd beneath her fatal stamp,
+    Writh'd like a wounded dragon in his gore:
+      Then I reproach'd my fears that would not flee;
+    "And soon," I said, "shall Wisdom teach her lore
+    In the low huts of them that toil and groan!
+    And, conquering by her happiness alone,
+      Shall France compel the nations to be free,
+    Till Love and Joy look round, and call the earth their own."
+
+
+IV.
+
+    Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!
+      I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament,
+      From bleak Helvetia's icy cavern sent,--
+    I hear thy groans upon her blood-stain'd streams!
+    Heroes, that for your peaceful country perish'd,
+      And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows
+    With bleeding wounds, forgive me, that I cherish'd
+      One thought that ever bless'd your cruel foes!
+        To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,
+        Where Peace her jealous home had built;
+      A patriot-race to disinherit
+    Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear,
+      And with inexpiable spirit
+    To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer,--
+    O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind,
+      And patriot only in pernicious toils,
+    Are these thy boasts, champion of human kind?
+    To mix with kings in the low lust of sway,
+    Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey;
+      To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils
+    From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?
+
+
+V.
+
+    The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain,
+      Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game
+      They burst their manacles and wear the name
+    Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain!
+    O Liberty! with profitless endeavor
+      Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour;
+    But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever
+      Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power.
+        Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee
+        (Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee),
+      Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions,
+    And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves,
+      Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions,
+    The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves!
+    And there I felt thee!--on that sea-cliff's verge,
+      Whose pines, scarce travell'd by the breeze above,
+    Had made one murmur with the distant surge!
+    Yes, while I stood and gaz'd, my temples bare,
+    And shot my being through earth, sea, and air,
+      Possessing all things with intensest love,
+    O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII. COMPLAINT AND REPROOF.
+
+COLERIDGE.
+
+
+I.
+
+    How seldom, friend! a good great man inherits
+    Honor or wealth, with all his worth and pains!
+    It sounds like stories from the land of spirits,
+    If any man obtain that which he merits,
+    Or any merit that which he obtains.
+
+
+II.
+
+    For shame, dear friend! renounce this canting strain!
+    What wouldst thou have a good great man obtain?
+    Place--titles--salary--a gilded chain--
+    Or throne of corses which his sword hath slain?--
+    Greatness and goodness are not means but ends!
+    Hath he not always treasures, always friends,
+    The good great man?--three treasures,--love, and light,
+    And calm thoughts, regular as infant's breath;--
+    And three firm friends, more sure than day and night,--
+    Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.
+
+ROBERT SOUTHEY.--1774-1843.
+
+
+    A well there is in the west country,
+      And a clearer one never was seen;
+    There is not a wife in the west country
+      But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.
+
+    An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,
+      And behind doth an ash-tree grow,
+    And a willow from the bank above
+      Droops to the water below.
+
+    A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne;
+      Joyfully he drew nigh;
+    For from cock-crow he had been travelling,
+      And there was not a cloud in the sky.
+
+    He drank of the water so cool and clear,
+      For thirsty and hot was he;
+    And he sat down upon the bank
+      Under the willow-tree.
+
+    There came a man from the house hard by,
+      At the well to fill his pail;
+    On the well-side he rested it,
+      And he bade the stranger hail.
+
+    "Now, art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth he;
+      "For, an if thou hast a wife,
+    The happiest draught thou hast drank this day
+      That ever thou didst in thy life.
+
+    "Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast,
+      Ever here in Cornwall been?
+    For, an if she have, I'll venture my life
+      She has drank of the Well of St. Keyne."
+
+    "I have left a good woman who never was here,"
+      The stranger he made reply;
+    "But that my draught should be the better for that,
+      I pray you answer me why."
+
+    "St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish-man, "many a time
+      Drank of this crystal well;
+    And, before the angel summon'd her,
+      She laid on the water a spell,--
+
+    "If the husband of this gifted well
+      Shall drink before his wife,
+    A happy man thenceforth is he,
+      For he shall be master for life;
+
+    "But if the wife should drink of it first,
+      God help the husband then!"
+    The stranger stoop'd to the Well of St. Keyne,
+      And drank of the water again.
+
+    "You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes?"
+      He to the Cornish-man said;
+    But the Cornish-man smiled as the stranger spake,
+      And sheepishly shook his head:--
+
+    "I hasten'd, as soon as the wedding was done,
+      And left my wife in the porch;
+    But i' faith she had been wiser than me,
+      For she took a bottle to church."
+
+
+
+
+XXXV. THE ISLES OF GREECE.
+
+LORD BYRON.--1788-1824.
+
+
+    The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!
+      Where burning Sappho lov'd and sung,
+    Where grew the arts of war and peace,
+      Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
+    Eternal summer gilds them yet,
+    But all, except their sun, is set.
+
+    The Scian and the Teian muse,
+      The hero's harp, the lover's lute,
+    Have found the fame your shores refuse:
+      Their place of birth alone is mute
+    To sounds which echo further west
+    Than your sires' "Islands of the Blest."
+
+    The mountains look on Marathon--
+      And Marathon looks on the sea;
+    And musing there an hour alone,
+      I dream'd that Greece might still be free;
+    For standing on the Persians' grave,
+    I could not deem myself a slave.
+
+    A king sate on the rocky brow
+      Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;
+    And ships, by thousands, lay below,
+      And men in nations;--all were his!
+    He counted them at break of day--
+    And when the sun set, where were they?
+
+    And where are they? and where art thou,
+      My country? On thy voiceless shore
+    The heroic lay is tuneless now--
+      The heroic bosom beats no more!
+    And must thy lyre, so long divine,
+    Degenerate into hands like mine?
+
+    'Tis something, in the dearth of fame,
+      Though link'd among a fetter'd race,
+    To feel at least a patriot's shame,
+      Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
+    For what is left the poet here?
+    For Greeks a blush--for Greece a tear.
+
+    Must _we_ but weep o'er days more blest?
+      Must _we_ but blush?--Our fathers bled.
+    Earth! render back from out thy breast
+      A remnant of our Spartan dead!
+    Of the three hundred grant but three,
+    To make a new Thermopylae!
+
+    What, silent still? and silent all?
+      Ah! no;--the voices of the dead
+    Sound like a distant torrent's fall,
+      And answer, "Let one living head,
+    But one, arise,--we come, we come!"
+    'Tis but the living who are dumb.
+
+    In vain--in vain: strike other chords;
+      Fill high the cup with Samian wine!
+    Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,
+      And shed the blood of Scio's vine!
+    Hark! rising to the ignoble call--
+    How answers each bold Bacchanal!
+
+    You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet;
+      Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
+    Of two such lessons, why forget
+      The nobler and the manlier one?
+    You have the letters Cadmus gave--
+    Think ye he meant them for a slave?
+
+    Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
+      We will not think of themes like these!
+    It made Anacreon's song divine:
+      He served--but served Polycrates--
+    A tyrant; but our masters then
+    Were still, at least, our countrymen.
+
+    The tyrant of the Chersonese
+      Was freedom's best and bravest friend;
+    _That_ tyrant was Miltiades!
+      Oh! that the present hour would lend
+    Another despot of the kind!
+    Such chains as his were sure to bind.
+
+    Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
+      On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore,
+    Exists the remnant of a line
+      Such as the Doric mothers bore;
+    And there, perhaps, some seed is sown,
+    The Heracleidan blood might own.
+
+    Trust not for freedom to the Franks--
+      They have a king who buys and sells:
+    In native swords, and native ranks,
+      The only hope of courage dwells;
+    But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,
+    Would break your shield, however broad.
+
+    Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
+      Our virgins dance beneath the shade--
+    I see their glorious black eyes shine;
+      But gazing on each glowing maid,
+    My own the burning tear-drop laves,
+    To think such breasts must suckle slaves.
+
+    Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
+      Where nothing, save the waves and I,
+    May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
+      There, swan-like, let me sing and die:
+    A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine--
+    Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI. GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE.
+
+THOMAS MOORE.--1779-1852.
+
+
+    Go where glory waits thee;
+    But, while fame elates thee,
+        O, still remember me!
+    When the praise thou meetest
+    To thine ear is sweetest,
+        O, then remember me!
+    Other arms may press thee,
+    Dearer friends caress thee,
+    All the joys that bless thee
+        Sweeter far may be;
+    But when friends are nearest,
+    And when joys are dearest,
+        O, then remember me!
+
+    When, at eve, thou rovest
+    By the star thou lovest,
+        O, then remember me!
+    Think, when home returning,
+    Bright we've seen it burning,
+        O, thus remember me!
+    Oft as summer closes,
+    When thine eye reposes
+    On its lingering roses,
+        Once so lov'd by thee,
+    Think of her who wove them,
+    Her who made thee love them,
+        O, then remember me!
+
+    When, around thee dying,
+    Autumn leaves are lying,
+        O, then remember me!
+    And, at night, when gazing
+    On the gay hearth blazing,
+        O, still remember me!
+    Then, should music, stealing
+    All the soul of feeling,
+    To thy heart appealing,
+        Draw one tear from thee;
+    Then let memory bring thee
+    Strains I used to sing thee,--
+        O, then remember me!
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII. DEAR HARP OF MY COUNTRY.
+
+MOORE.
+
+
+    Dear Harp of my Country! in darkness I found thee,
+      The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long,
+    When proudly, my own Island Harp, I unbound thee,
+      And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song!
+
+    The warm lay of love and the light note of gladness
+      Have waken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill;
+    But, so oft hast thou echo'd the deep sigh of sadness,
+      That ev'n in thy mirth it will steal from thee still.
+
+    Dear Harp of my Country! farewell to thy numbers,
+      This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine!
+    Go, sleep with the sunshine of fame on thy slumbers,
+      Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine;
+
+    If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover,
+      Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone;
+    I was _but_ as the wind, passing heedlessly over,
+      And all the wild sweetness I waked was thy own.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII. COME, YE DISCONSOLATE.
+
+MOORE.
+
+
+    Come, ye disconsolate, where'er you languish,
+      Come, at God's altar fervently kneel;
+    Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish--
+      Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
+
+    Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying,
+      Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure,
+    Here speaks the Comforter, in God's name saying,--
+      "Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure."
+
+    Go, ask the infidel, what boon he brings us,
+      What charm for aching hearts _he_ can reveal,
+    Sweet as that heavenly promise Hope sings us,
+      "Earth has no sorrow that God cannot heal."
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX. ON A LOCK OF MILTON'S HAIR.
+
+LEIGH HUNT.--1784-1859.
+
+
+    It lies before me there, and my own breath
+    Stirs its thin outer threads, as though beside
+    The living head I stood in honor'd pride,
+    Talking of lovely things that conquer death.
+    Perhaps he press'd it once, or underneath
+    Ran his fine fingers, when he leant, blank-ey'd,
+    And saw, in fancy, Adam and his bride
+    With their rich locks, or his own Delphic wreath.
+    There seems a love in hair, though it be dead.
+    It is the gentlest, yet the strongest thread
+    Of our frail plant,--a blossom from the tree
+    Surviving the proud trunk;--as though it said
+    Patience and gentleness is power; in me
+    Behold affectionate eternity.
+
+
+
+
+XL. THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.
+
+LEIGH HUNT.
+
+
+    King Francis was a hearty king, and lov'd a royal sport,
+    And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the court:
+    The nobles fill'd the benches round, the ladies by their side,
+    And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make
+              his bride;
+    And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,
+    Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.
+
+    Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;
+    They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with
+              their paws;
+    With wallowing might and stifled roar they roll'd one on another,
+    Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thund'rous smother;
+    The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air;
+    Said Francis then, "Good gentlemen, we're better here than there!"
+
+    De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous, lively dame,
+    With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, which always seem'd
+              the same:
+    She thought, "The Count, my lover, is as brave as brave can be;
+    He surely would do desperate things to show his love of me!
+    King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the chance is wondrous fine;
+    I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory will be mine!"
+
+    She dropp'd her glove to prove his love: then look'd on him
+              and smiled;
+    He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions wild:
+    The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon regain'd his place;
+    Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face!
+    "In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where
+              he sat:
+    "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Rough wind, that moanest loud
+      Grief too sad for song;
+    Wild wind, when sullen cloud
+      Knells all the night long;
+    Sad storm, whose tears are vain,
+    Bare woods, whose branches strain,
+    Deep caves and dreary main,
+      Wail, for the world's wrong._
+
+         _A Dirge_.--SHELLEY.
+
+
+
+
+XLI. THE CLOUD.
+
+PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.--1792-1822.
+
+
+I.
+
+    I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers
+      From the seas and the streams;
+    I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
+      In their noon-day dreams.
+    From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
+      The sweet buds every one,
+    When rock'd to rest on their Mother's breast,
+      As she dances about the sun.
+    I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
+      And whiten the green plains under;
+    And then again I dissolve it in rain,
+      And laugh as I pass in thunder.
+
+
+II.
+
+    I sift the snow on the mountains below,
+      And their great pines groan aghast;
+    And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
+      While I sleep in the arms of the Blast.
+    Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers
+      Lightning, my pilot, sits;
+    In a cavern under is fetter'd the Thunder,--
+      It struggles and howls at fits.
+    Over earth and ocean with gentle motion
+      This pilot is guiding me,
+    Lured by the love of the Genii that move
+      In the depths of the purple sea;
+    Over the rills and the crags and the hills,
+      Over the lakes and the plains,
+    Wherever he dream under mountain or stream
+      The Spirit he loves remains;
+    And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile,
+      Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
+
+
+III.
+
+    The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
+      And his burning plumes outspread,
+    Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
+      When the morning star shines dead;
+    As on the jag of a mountain-crag,
+      Which an earthquake rocks and swings,
+    An eagle alit one moment may sit
+      In the light of its golden wings.
+    And, when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,
+      Its ardor of rest and of love,
+    And the crimson pall of eve may fall
+      From the depth of heaven above,
+    With wings folded I rest on mine airy nest,
+      As still as a brooding dove.
+
+
+IV.
+
+    That orbed maiden, with white-fire laden,
+      Whom mortals call the Moon,
+    Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor
+      By the midnight breezes strewn;
+    And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
+      Which only the angels hear,
+    May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,
+      The Stars peep behind her and peer.
+    And I laugh to see them whirl and flee
+      Like a swarm of golden bees,
+    When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,--
+      Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
+    Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
+      Are each pav'd with the moon and these.
+
+
+V.
+
+    I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,
+      And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;
+    The volcanoes are dim, and the Stars reel and swim,
+      When the Whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
+    From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,
+      Over a torrent sea,
+    Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,--
+      The mountains its columns be.
+    The triumphal arch, through which I march,
+      With hurricane, fire, and snow,
+    When the Powers of the air are chain'd to my chair,
+      Is the million-color'd bow;
+    The Sphere-fire above its soft colors wove,
+      While the moist Earth was laughing below.
+
+
+VI.
+
+    I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
+      And the nursling of the Sky;
+    I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
+      I change, but I cannot die.
+    For after the rain, when with never a stain
+      The pavilion of heaven is bare,
+    And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
+      Build up the blue dome of air,
+    I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,--
+      And out of the caverns of rain,
+    Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
+      I arise, and unbuild it again.
+
+
+
+
+XLII. ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.
+
+JOHN KEATS.--1795-1821.
+
+
+    Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
+    And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
+    Round many western islands have I been
+    Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
+    Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
+    That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne:
+    Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
+    Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
+    Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
+    When a new planet swims into his ken;
+    Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
+    He stared at the Pacific--and all his men
+    Look'd at each other with a wild surmise--
+    Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
+
+
+
+
+XLIII. ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET.
+
+KEATS.
+
+
+    The poetry of earth is never dead:
+    When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
+    And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
+    From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead:
+    That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead
+    In summer luxury,--he has never done
+    With his delights, for, when tired out with fun,
+    He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
+    The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
+    On a lone winter evening, when the frost
+    Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
+    The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
+    And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
+    The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
+
+
+
+
+XLIV. THE POWER AND DANGER OF THE CAESARS.
+
+THOMAS DE QUINCEY.--1785-1859.
+
+_From_ THE CAESARS.
+
+
+To this view of the imperial character and relations must be added one
+single circumstance, which in some measure altered the whole for the
+individual who happened to fill the office. The emperor _de facto_ might
+be viewed under two aspects; there was the man, and there was the
+office. In his office he was immortal and sacred: but as a question
+might still be raised, by means of a mercenary army, as to the claims of
+the particular individual who at any time filled the office, the very
+sanctity and privilege of the character with which he was clothed might
+actually be turned against himself; and here it is, at this point, that
+the character of Roman emperor became truly and mysteriously awful.
+Gibbon has taken notice of the extraordinary situation of a _subject_ in
+the Roman empire who should attempt to fly from the wrath of the Caesar.
+Such was the ubiquity of the emperor that this was metaphysically
+hopeless. Except across pathless deserts or amongst barbarous nomads, it
+was impossible to find even a transient sanctuary from the imperial
+pursuit. If the fugitive went down to the sea, there he met the emperor:
+if he took the wings of the morning, and fled to the uttermost parts of
+the earth, there was also Caesar in the person of his lieutenants. But,
+by a dreadful counter-charm, the same omnipresence of imperial anger and
+retribution which withered the hopes of the poor humble prisoner, met
+and confounded the emperor himself, when hurled from his elevation by
+some fortunate rival. All the kingdoms of the earth, to one in that
+situation, became but so many wards of the same infinite prison. Flight,
+if it were even successful for the moment, did but a little retard his
+inevitable doom. And so evident was this, that hardly in one instance
+did the fallen prince _attempt_ to fly; passively he met the death which
+was inevitable, in the very spot where ruin had overtaken him. Neither
+was it possible even for a merciful conqueror to show mercy; for, in
+the presence of an army so mercenary and factious, his own safety was
+but too deeply involved in the extermination of rival pretenders to
+the crown.
+
+Such, amidst the sacred security and inviolability of the office, was
+the hazardous tenure of the individual. Nor did his dangers always arise
+from persons in the rank of competitors and rivals. Sometimes it menaced
+him in quarters which his eye had never penetrated, and from enemies too
+obscure to have reached his ear. By way of illustration we will cite a
+case from the life of the Emperor Commodus, which is wild enough to have
+furnished the plot of a romance, though as well authenticated as any
+other passage in that reign. The story is narrated by Herodian, and the
+outline was this:--A slave of noble qualities, and of magnificent
+person, having liberated himself from the degradations of bondage,
+determined to avenge his own wrongs by inflicting continual terror upon
+the town and neighborhood which had witnessed his humiliation. For this
+purpose he resorted to the woody recesses of the province (somewhere in
+the modern Transylvania), and, attracting to his wild encampment as many
+fugitives as he could, by degrees he succeeded in training a very
+formidable troop of freebooters. Partly from the energy of his own
+nature, and partly from the neglect and remissness of the provincial
+magistrates, the robber captain rose from less to more, until he had
+formed a little army, equal to the task of assaulting fortified cities.
+In this stage of his adventures he encountered and defeated several of
+the imperial officers commanding large detachments of troops; and at
+length grew of consequence sufficient to draw upon himself the emperor's
+eye, and the honor of his personal displeasure. In high wrath and
+disdain at the insults offered to his eagles by this fugitive slave,
+Commodus fulminated against him such an edict as left him no hope of
+much longer escaping with impunity.
+
+Public vengeance was now awakened; the imperial troops were marching
+from every quarter upon the same centre; and the slave became sensible
+that in a very short space of time he must be surrounded and destroyed.
+In this desperate situation he took a desperate resolution: he assembled
+his troops, laid before them his plan, concerted the various steps for
+carrying it into effect, and then dismissed them as independent
+wanderers. So ends the first chapter of the tale.
+
+The next opens in the passes of the Alps, whither, by various routes, of
+seven or eight hundred miles in extent, these men had threaded their way
+in manifold disguises, through the very midst of the emperor's camps.
+According to this man's gigantic enterprise, in which the means were as
+audacious as the purpose, the conspirators were to rendezvous, and first
+to recognize each other, at the gates of Rome. From the Danube to the
+Tiber did this band of robbers severally pursue their perilous routes
+through all the difficulties of the road and the jealousies of the
+military stations, sustained by the mere thirst of vengeance--vengeance
+against that mighty foe whom they knew only by his proclamations against
+themselves. Everything continued to prosper; the conspirators met under
+the walls of Rome; the final details were arranged; and those also would
+have prospered but for a trifling accident. The season was one of
+general carnival at Rome; and, by the help of those disguises which the
+license of this festival time allowed, the murderers were to have
+penetrated as maskers to the emperor's retirement, when a casual word or
+two awoke the suspicions of a sentinel. One of the conspirators was
+arrested; under the terror and uncertainty of the moment, he made much
+ampler discoveries than were expected of him; the other accomplices were
+secured: and Commodus was delivered from the uplifted daggers of those
+who had sought him by months of patient wanderings, pursued through all
+the depths of the Illyrian forests, and the difficulties of the Alpine
+passes. It is not easy to find words of admiration commensurate to the
+energetic hardihood of a slave--who, by way of answer and reprisal to an
+edict summarily consigning him to persecution and death, determines to
+cross Europe in quest of its author, though no less a person than the
+master of the world--to seek him out in the inmost recesses of his
+capital city, of his private palace, of his consecrated bed-chamber--and
+there to lodge a dagger in his heart, as the adequate reply to the
+imperial sentence of proscription against himself.
+
+Such, amidst the superhuman grandeur and hallowed privileges of the
+Roman emperor's office, were the extraordinary perils which menaced the
+individual officer. The office rose by its grandeur to a region above
+the clouds and vapors of earth: the officer might find his personal
+security as unsubstantial as those wandering vapors. Nor is it possible
+that these circumstances of violent opposition can be better
+illustrated than in this tale of Herodian. Whilst the emperor's mighty
+arms were stretched out to arrest some potentate in the heart of Asia, a
+poor slave is silently and stealthily creeping round the base of the
+Alps, with the purpose of winning his way as a murderer to the imperial
+bed-chamber; Caesar is watching some potent rebel of the Orient, at a
+distance of two thousand leagues, and he overlooks the dagger which is
+within three stealthy steps, and one tiger's leap, of his own heart. All
+the heights and the depths which belong to man's frailty, all the
+contrasts of glory and meanness, the extremities of what is highest and
+lowest in human casualties, meeting in the station of the Roman Caesar
+Semper Augustus--have combined to call him into high marble relief, and
+to make him the most interesting study of all whom history has
+emblazoned with colors of fire and blood, or has crowned most lavishly
+with diadems of cyprus and laurel.
+
+
+
+
+XLV. UNTHOUGHTFULNESS.
+
+DR. ARNOLD.--1795-1842.
+
+_A Lecture delivered in Rugby Chapel._
+
+
+The state of spiritual folly is, I suppose, one of the most universal
+evils in the world. For the number of those who are naturally foolish is
+exceedingly great; of those, I mean, who understand no worldly thing
+well; of those who are careless about everything, carried about by every
+breath of opinion, without knowledge, and without principle. But the
+term spiritual folly includes, unhappily, a great many more than these;
+it takes in not those only who are in the common sense of the term
+foolish, but a great many who are in the common sense of the term
+clever, and many who are even in the common sense of the terms, prudent,
+sensible, thoughtful, and wise. It is but too evident that some of the
+ablest men who have ever lived upon earth, have been in no less a degree
+spiritually fools. And thus, it is not without much truth that Christian
+writers have dwelt upon the insufficiency of worldly wisdom, and have
+warned their readers to beware, lest, while professing themselves to be
+wise, they should be accounted as fools in the sight of God.
+
+But the opposite to this notion, that those who are, as it were, fools
+in worldly matters are wise before God,--although this also is true in a
+certain sense, and under certain peculiar circumstances, yet taken
+generally, it is the very reverse of truth; and the careless and
+incautious language which has been often used on this subject, has been
+extremely mischievous. On the contrary, he who is foolish in worldly
+matters is likely also to be, and most commonly is, no less foolish in
+the things of God. And the opposite belief has arisen mainly from that
+strange confusion between ignorance and innocence, with which many
+ignorant persons seem to solace themselves. Whereas, if you take away a
+man's knowledge, you do not bring him to the state of an infant, but to
+that of a brute; and of one of the most mischievous and malignant of the
+brute creation. For you do not lessen or weaken the man's body by
+lowering his mind; he still retains his strength and his passions, the
+passions leading to self-indulgence, the strength which enables him to
+feed them by continued gratification. He will not think, it is true, to
+any good purpose; it is very possible to destroy in him the power of
+reflection, whether as exercised upon outward things, or upon himself
+and his own nature, or upon God. But you cannot destroy the power of
+adapting means to ends, nor that of concealing his purposes by fraud or
+falsehood; you take only his wisdom, and leave that cunning which marks
+so notoriously both the savage and the madman. He, then, who is a fool
+as far as regards earthly things, is much more a fool with regard to
+heavenly things; he who cannot raise himself even to the lower height,
+how is he to attain to the higher? he who is without reason and
+conscience, how shall he be endowed with the spirit of God?
+
+It is my deep conviction and long experience of this truth, which makes
+me so grieve over a want of interest in your own improvement in human
+learning, whenever I observe it,--over the prevalence of a thoughtless
+and childish spirit amongst you.... The idleness and want of interest
+which I grieve for, is one which extends itself, but too impartially, to
+knowledge of every kind: to divine knowledge, as might be expected, even
+more than to human. Those whom we commonly find careless about their
+general lessons, are quite as ignorant and as careless about their
+Bibles; those who have no interest in general literature, in poetry, or
+in history, or in philosophy, have certainly no greater interest, I do
+not say in works of theology, but in works of practical devotion, in the
+lives of holy men, in meditations, or in prayers. Alas, the interest of
+their minds is bestowed on things far lower than the very lowest of all
+which I have named; and therefore, to see them desiring something only a
+little higher than their present pursuits, could not but be encouraging;
+it would, at least, show that the mind was rising upwards. It may,
+indeed, stop at a point short of the highest, it may learn to love
+earthly excellence, and rest there contented, and seek for nothing
+more perfect; but that, at any rate, is a future and merely contingent
+evil. It is better to love earthly excellence than earthly folly; it is
+far better in itself, and it is, by many degrees, nearer to the Kingdom
+of God.
+
+There is another case, however, which I cannot but think is more
+frequent now than formerly; and if it is so, it may be worth while to
+direct our attention to it. Common idleness and absolute ignorance are
+not what I wish to speak of now, but a character advanced above these; a
+character which does not neglect its school-lessons, but really attains
+to considerable proficiency in them; a character at once regular and
+amiable, abstaining from evil, and for evil in its low and grosser forms
+having a real abhorrence. What, then, you will say, is wanting here? I
+will tell you what seems to be wanting--a spirit of manly, and much more
+of Christian, thoughtfulness. There is quickness and cleverness; much
+pleasure, perhaps, in distinction, but little in improvement; there is
+no desire of knowledge for its own sake, whether human or divine. There
+is, therefore, but little power of combining and digesting what is read;
+and, consequently, what is read passes away, and takes no root in the
+mind. This same character shows itself in matters of conduct; it will
+adopt, without scruple, the most foolish, commonplace notions of boys,
+about what is right and wrong; it will not, and cannot, from the
+lightness of its mind, concern itself seriously about what is evil in
+the conduct of others, because it takes no regular care of its own, with
+reference to pleasing God; it will not do anything low or wicked, but it
+will sometimes laugh at those who do; and it will by no means take
+pains to encourage, nay, it will sometimes thwart and oppose anything
+that breathes a higher spirit, and asserts a more manly and Christian
+standard of duty.
+
+One cause of this consists in the number and character and cheapness,
+and peculiar mode of publication, of the works of amusement of the
+present day. The works of amusement published only a very few years
+since were comparatively few in number; they were less exciting, and
+therefore less attractive; they were dearer, and therefore less
+accessible; and, not being published periodically, they did not occupy
+the mind for so long a time, nor keep alive so constant an expectation;
+nor, by thus dwelling upon the mind, and distilling themselves into it
+as it were drop by drop, did they possess it so largely, coloring even,
+in many instances, its very language, and affording frequent matter for
+conversation.
+
+The evil of all these circumstances is actually enormous. The mass of
+human minds, and much more of the minds of young persons, have no great
+appetite for intellectual exercise; but they have some, which by careful
+treatment may be strengthened and increased. But here to this weak and
+delicate appetite is presented an abundance of the most stimulating and
+least nourishing food possible. It snatches it greedily, and is not only
+satisfied, but actually conceives a distaste for anything simpler and
+more wholesome. That curiosity which is wisely given us to lead us on to
+knowledge, finds its full gratification in the details of an exciting
+and protracted story, and then lies down as it were gorged, and goes to
+sleep. Other faculties claim their turn, and have it. We know that in
+youth the healthy body and lively spirits require exercise, and in this
+they may and ought to be indulged; but the time and interest which
+remain over when the body has had its enjoyment, and the mind desires
+its share, this has been already wasted and exhausted upon things
+utterly unprofitable: so that the mind goes to its work hurriedly and
+languidly, and feels it to be no more than a burden. The mere lessons
+may be learnt from a sense of duty; but that freshness of power which in
+young persons of ability would fasten eagerly upon some one portion or
+other of the wide field of knowledge, and there expatiate, drinking in
+health and strength to the mind, as surely as the natural exercise of
+the body gives to it bodily vigor,--that is tired prematurely,
+perverted, and corrupted; and all the knowledge which else it might so
+covet, it now seems a wearying effort to retain.
+
+Great and grievous as is the evil, it is peculiarly hard to find the
+remedy for it. If the books to which I have been alluding were books of
+downright wickedness, we might destroy them wherever we found them; we
+might forbid their open circulation; we might conjure you to shun them
+as you would any other clear sin, whether of word or deed. But they are
+not wicked books for the most part; they are of that class which cannot
+be actually prohibited; nor can it be pretended that there is a sin in
+reading them. They are not the more wicked for being published so cheap,
+and at regular intervals; but yet these two circumstances make them so
+peculiarly injurious. All that can be done is to point out the evil;
+that it is real and serious I am very sure, and its defects are most
+deplorable on the minds of the fairest promise; but the remedy for it
+rests with yourselves, or rather with each of you individually, so far
+as he is himself concerned. That an unnatural and constant excitement of
+the mind is most injurious, there is no doubt; that excitement involves
+a consequent weakness, is a law of our nature than which none is surer;
+that the weakness of mind thus produced is and must be adverse to quiet
+study and thought, to that reflection which alone is wisdom, is also
+clear in itself, and proved too largely by experience. And that without
+reflection there can be no spiritual understanding, is at once evident;
+while without spiritual understanding, that is, without a knowledge and
+a study of God's will, there can be no spiritual life. And therefore
+childishness and unthoughtfulness cannot be light evils; and if I have
+rightly traced the prevalence of these defects to its cause, although
+that cause may seem to some to be trifling, yet surely it is well to
+call your attention to it, and to remind you that in reading works of
+amusement, as in every other lawful pleasure, there is and must be an
+abiding responsibility in the sight of God; that, like other lawful
+pleasures, we must beware of excess in it; and not only so, but if we
+find it hurtful to us, either because we have used it too freely in
+times past, or because our nature is too weak to bear it, that then we
+are bound most solemnly to abstain from it; because, however lawful in
+itself, or to others who can practise it without injury, whatever is to
+us an hindrance in the way of our intellectual and moral and spiritual
+improvement, that is in our case a positive sin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _There is a book, who runs may read, which heavenly truth
+        imparts;
+    And all the lore its scholars need,--pure eyes and Christian
+        hearts.
+    The works of God, above, below, within us and around,
+    Are pages in that book, to show how God Himself is found._
+
+        JOHN KEBLE.--1792-1866.
+
+
+
+
+XLVI. THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.
+
+THOMAS HOOD.--1799-1845.
+
+
+    One more Unfortunate,
+    Weary of breath,
+    Rashly importunate,
+    Gone to her death!
+
+    Take her up tenderly,
+    Lift her with care;
+    Fashion'd so slenderly,
+    Young, and so fair!
+
+    Look at her garments
+    Clinging like cerements;
+    Whilst the wave constantly
+    Drips from her clothing;
+    Take her up instantly,
+    Loving, not loathing.--
+
+    Touch her not scornfully;
+    Think of her mournfully,
+    Gently and humanly;
+    Not of the stains of her,--
+    All that remains of her
+    Now is pure womanly.
+
+    Make no deep scrutiny
+    Into her mutiny
+    Rash and undutiful:
+    Past all dishonor,
+    Death has left on her
+    Only the beautiful.
+
+    Still, for all slips of hers,
+    One of Eve's family,--
+    Wipe those poor lips of hers
+    Oozing so clammily.
+
+    Loop up her tresses
+    Escaped from the comb,--
+    Her fair auburn tresses;
+    Whilst wonderment guesses
+    Where was her home?
+
+    Who was her father?
+    Who was her mother?
+    Had she a sister?
+    Had she a brother?
+    Or was there a dearer one
+    Still, and a nearer one
+    Yet, than all other?
+
+    Alas! for the rarity
+    Of Christian charity
+    Under the sun!
+    Oh! it was pitiful!
+    Near a whole city full,
+    Home she had none.
+
+    Sisterly, brotherly,
+    Fatherly, motherly
+    Feelings had changed:
+    Love, by harsh evidence,
+    Thrown from its eminence;
+    Even God's providence
+    Seeming estranged.
+
+    Where the lamps quiver
+    So far in the river,
+    With many a light
+    From window and casement,
+    From garret to basement,
+    She stood, with amazement,
+    Houseless by night.
+
+    The bleak wind of March
+    Made her tremble and shiver;
+    But not the dark arch,
+    Or the black flowing river:
+    Mad from life's history,
+    Glad to death's mystery,
+    Swift to be hurl'd--
+    Anywhere, anywhere
+    Out of the world!
+
+    In she plunged boldly,--
+    No matter how coldly
+    The dark river ran,--
+    Over the brink of it,
+    Picture it,--think of it,
+    Dissolute Man!
+    Lave in it, drink of it,
+    Then, if you can!
+
+    Take her up tenderly,
+    Lift her with care;
+    Fashion'd so slenderly,
+    Young, and so fair!
+
+    Ere her limbs frigidly
+    Stiffen too rigidly,
+    Decently,--kindly,--
+    Smooth and compose them;
+    And her eyes, close them,
+    Staring so blindly!
+
+    Dreadfully staring
+    Through muddy impurity,
+    As when with the daring
+    Last look of despairing
+    Fix'd on futurity.
+
+    Perishing gloomily,
+    Spurr'd by contumely,
+    Cold inhumanity,
+    Burning insanity,
+    Into her rest.--
+    Cross her hands humbly,
+    As if praying dumbly,
+    Over her breast!
+
+    Owning her weakness,
+    Her evil behavior,
+    And leaving, with meekness,
+    Her sins to her Saviour!
+
+
+
+
+XLVII. A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON.
+
+AGED THREE YEARS AND FIVE MONTHS.
+
+THOMAS HOOD.
+
+
+          Thou happy, happy elf!
+    (But stop,--first let me kiss away that tear)--
+          Thou tiny image of myself!
+    (My love, he's poking peas into his ear!)
+          Thou merry, laughing sprite!
+          With spirits feather-light,
+    Untouch'd by sorrow, and unsoil'd by sin--
+    (Good heavens! the child is swallowing a pin!)
+          Thou little tricksy Puck!
+    With antic toys so funnily bestuck,
+    Light as the singing bird that wings the air--
+    (The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!)
+          Thou darling of thy sire!
+    (Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore a-fire!)
+          Thou imp of mirth and joy!
+    In Love's dear chain so strong and bright a link,
+    Thou idol of thy parents--(Drat the boy!
+          There goes my ink!)
+
+          Thou cherub--but of earth;
+    Fit playfellow for Fays, by moonlight pale,
+          In harmless sport and mirth,
+    (That dog will bite him if he pulls its tail!)
+          Thou human humming-bee extracting honey
+    From ev'ry blossom in the world that blows,
+          Singing in Youth's Elysium ever sunny,
+    (Another tumble!--that's his precious nose!)
+          Thy father's pride and hope!
+    (He'll break the mirror with that skipping-rope!)
+    With pure heart newly stamp'd from Nature's mint--
+          (Where did he learn that squint?)
+
+          Thou young domestic dove!
+    (He'll have that jug off with another shove!)
+          Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest!
+          (Are those torn clothes his best?)
+          Little epitome of man!
+    (He'll climb upon the table, that's his plan!)
+    Touch'd with the beauteous tints of dawning life--
+          (He's got a knife!)
+
+          Thou enviable being!
+    No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,
+          Play on, play on,
+          My elfin John!
+          Toss the light ball--bestride the stick--
+    (I knew so many cakes would make him sick!)
+    With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down,
+    Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk,
+          With many a lamb-like frisk,
+    (He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown!)
+
+          Thou pretty opening rose!
+    (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!)
+    Balmy, and breathing music like the South,
+    (He really brings my heart into my mouth!)
+    Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star,--
+    (I wish that window had an iron bar!)
+    Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove,--
+          (I tell you what, my love,
+    I cannot write, unless he's sent above!)
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII. METAPHYSICS.
+
+THOMAS CHANDLER HALIBURTON.--1796-1865.
+
+_From_ TRAITS OF AMERICAN HUMOR.
+
+
+Old Doctor Sobersides, the minister of Pumpkinville, where I lived in my
+youth, was one of the metaphysical divines of the old school, and could
+cavil upon the ninth part of a hair about entities and quiddities,
+nominalism and realism, free-will and necessity, with which sort of
+learning he used to stuff his sermons and astound his learned hearers,
+the bumpkins. They never doubted that it was all true, but were apt to
+say with the old woman in Moliere: "He speaks so well that I don't
+understand him a bit."
+
+I remember a conversation that happened at my grandfather's, in which
+the Doctor had some difficulty in making his metaphysics all "as clear
+as preaching." There was my grandfather; Uncle Tim, who was the greatest
+hand at raising onions in our part of the country, but "not knowing
+metaphysics, had no notion of the true reason of his not being sad"; my
+Aunt Judy Keturah Titterwell, who could knit stockings "like all
+possest," but could not syllogise; Malachi Muggs, our hired man that
+drove the oxen; and Isaac Thrasher, the district schoolmaster, who had
+dropped in to warm his fingers and get a drink of cider. Something was
+under discussion, and my grandfather could make nothing of it; but the
+Doctor said it was "metaphysically true."
+
+"Pray, Doctor," said Uncle Tim, "tell me something about metaphysics; I
+have often heard of that science, but never for my life could find out
+what it was."
+
+"Metaphysics," said the Doctor, "is the science of abstraction."
+
+"I'm no wiser for that explanation," said Uncle Tim.
+
+"It treats," said the Doctor, "of matters most profound and sublime, a
+little difficult perhaps for a common intellect or an unschooled
+capacity to fathom, but not the less important on that account, to all
+living beings."
+
+"What does it teach?" asked the Schoolmaster.
+
+"It is not applied so much to the operation of teaching," answered the
+Doctor, "as to that of inquiring; and the chief inquiry is, whether
+things are, or whether they are not."
+
+"I don't understand the question," said Uncle Tim, taking the pipe out
+of his mouth.
+
+"For example, whether this earth on which we tread," said the Doctor,
+giving a heavy stamp on the floor, and setting his foot on the cat's
+tail, "whether the earth does really exist, or whether it does not
+exist."
+
+"That is a point of considerable consequence to settle," said my
+grandfather.
+
+"Especially," added the schoolmaster, "to the holders of real estate."
+
+"Now the earth," continued the Doctor, "may exist--"
+
+"Why, who ever doubted that?" asked Uncle Tim.
+
+"A great many men," said the Doctor, "and some very learned ones."
+
+Uncle Tim stared a moment, and then began to fill his pipe, whistling
+the tune of "Heigh! Betty Martin," while the Doctor went on:
+
+"The earth, I say, may exist, although Bishop Berkeley has proved beyond
+all possible gainsaying or denial, that it does not exist. The case is
+clear; the only difficulty is, to know whether we shall believe it or
+not."
+
+"And how," asked Uncle Tim, "is all this to be found out?"
+
+"By digging down to the first principles," answered the Doctor.
+
+"Ay," interrupted Malachi, "there is nothing equal to the spade and
+pickaxe."
+
+"That is true," said my grandfather, going on in Malachi's way, "'tis by
+digging for the foundation, that we shall find out whether the world
+exists or not; for, if we dig to the bottom of the earth and find the
+foundation--why then we are sure of it. But if we find no foundation, it
+is clear that the world stands upon nothing, or, in other words, that it
+does not stand at all; therefore, it stands to reason--"
+
+"I beg your pardon," interrupted the Doctor, "but you totally mistake
+me; I used the word digging metaphorically, meaning the profoundest
+cogitation and research into the nature of things. That is the way in
+which we may ascertain whether things are, or whether they are not."
+
+"But if a man can't believe his eyes," said Uncle Tim, "what signifies
+talking about it?"
+
+"Our eyes," said the Doctor, "are nothing at all but the inlets of
+sensation, and when we see a thing, all we are aware of is, that we have
+a sensation of it: we are not aware that the thing exists. We are sure
+of nothing that we see with our eyes."
+
+"Not without spectacles," said Aunt Judy.
+
+"Plato, for instance, maintains that the sensation of any object is
+produced by a perpetual succession of copies, images, or counterfeits,
+streaming off from the object to the organ of sensation. Descartes, too,
+has explained the matter upon the principle of whirligigs."
+
+"But does the world exist?" asked the Schoolmaster.
+
+"A good deal may be said on both sides," replied the Doctor, "though the
+ablest heads are for non-existence."
+
+"In common cases," said Uncle Tim, "those who utter nonsense are
+considered blockheads."
+
+"But in metaphysics," said the Doctor, "the case is different."
+
+"Now all this is hocus-pocus to me," said Aunt Judy, suspending her
+knitting-work, and scratching her forehead with one of the needles, "I
+don't understand a bit more of the business than I did at first."
+
+"I'll be bound there is many a learned professor," said Uncle Tim,
+"could say the same after spinning a long yarn of metaphysics."
+
+The Doctor did not admire this gibe at his favorite science.
+
+"That is as the case may be," said he; "this thing or that thing may be
+dubious, but what then? Doubt is the beginning of wisdom."
+
+"No doubt of that," said my grandfather, beginning to poke the fire,
+"and when a man has got through his doubting, what does he begin to
+build up in the metaphysical way?"
+
+"Why, he begins by taking something for granted," said the Doctor.
+
+"But is that a sure way of going to work?"
+
+"'Tis the only thing he can do," replied the Doctor, after a pause, and
+rubbing his forehead as if he was not altogether satisfied that his
+foundation was a solid one. My grandfather might have posed him with
+another question, but he poked the fire and let him go on.
+
+"Metaphysics, to speak exactly----"
+
+"Ah," interrupted the Schoolmaster, "bring it down to vulgar fractions,
+and then we shall understand it."
+
+"'Tis the consideration of immateriality, or the mere spirit and essence
+of things."
+
+"Come, come," said Aunt Judy, taking a pinch of snuff, "now I see into
+it."
+
+"Thus, man is considered, not in his corporeality, but in his essence or
+capability of being; for a man, metaphysically, or to metaphysical
+purposes, hath two natures, that of spirituality, and that of
+corporeality, which may be considered separate."
+
+"What man?" asked Uncle Tim.
+
+"Why, any man; Malachi there, for example; I may consider him as Malachi
+spiritual, or Malachi corporeal."
+
+"That is true," said Malachi, "for when I was in the militia they made
+me a sixteenth corporal, and I carried grog to the drummer."
+
+"That is another affair," said the Doctor in continuation; "we speak of
+man in his essence; we speak, also, of the essence of locality, the
+essence of duration--"
+
+"And essence of peppermint," said Aunt Judy.
+
+"Pooh!" said the Doctor, "the essence I mean is quite a different
+essence."
+
+"Something too fine to be dribbled through the worm of a still," said my
+grandfather.
+
+"Then I am all in the dark again," rejoined Aunt Judy.
+
+"By the spirit and essence of things I mean things in the abstract."
+
+"And what becomes of a thing when it goes into the abstract?" asked
+Uncle Tim.
+
+"Why, it becomes an abstraction."
+
+"There we are again," said Uncle Tim; "but what on earth is an
+abstraction?"
+
+"It is a thing that has no matter: that is, it cannot be felt, seen,
+heard, smelt, or tasted; it has no substance or solidity; it is neither
+large nor small, hot nor cold, long nor short."
+
+"Then what is the long and short of it?" asked the Schoolmaster.
+
+"Abstraction," replied the Doctor.
+
+"Suppose, for instance," said Malachi, "that I had a pitchfork----"
+
+"Ay," said the Doctor, "consider a pitchfork in general; that is,
+neither this one nor that one, nor any particular one, but a pitchfork
+or pitchforks divested of their materiality--these are things in the
+abstract."
+
+"They are things in the hay-mow," said Malachi.
+
+"Pray," said Uncle Tim, "have there been many such things discovered?"
+
+"Discovered!" returned the Doctor, "why, all things, whether in heaven,
+or upon the earth, or in the waters under the earth, whether small or
+great, visible or invisible, animate or inanimate; whether the eye can
+see, or the ear can hear, or the nose can smell, or the fingers touch;
+finally, whatever exists or is imaginable in the nature of things, past,
+present, or to come, all may be abstractions."
+
+"Indeed!" said Uncle Tim, "pray, what do you make of the abstraction of
+a red cow?"
+
+"A red cow," said the Doctor, "considered metaphysically or as an
+abstraction, is an animal possessing neither hide nor horns, bones nor
+flesh, but is the mere type, eidolon, and fantastical semblance of these
+parts of a quadruped. It has a shape without any substance, and no color
+at all, for its redness is the mere counterfeit or imagination of such.
+As it lacks the positive, so is it also deficient in the accidental
+properties of all the animals in its tribe, for it has no locomotion,
+stability, or endurance, neither goes to pasture, gives milk, chews the
+cud, nor performs any other function of the horned beast, but is a mere
+creation of the brain, begotten by a freak of the fancy and nourished by
+a conceit of the imagination."
+
+"Pshaw!" exclaimed Aunt Judy. "All the metaphysics under the sun
+wouldn't make a pound of butter!"
+
+"That's a fact," said Uncle Tim.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _There is no great and no small
+    To the Soul that maketh all:
+    And where it cometh, all things are:--
+    And it cometh everywhere._
+
+        EMERSON.
+
+
+
+
+XLIX. INDIAN SUMMER.[J]
+
+SAMUEL LOVER.--1797-1868.
+
+
+    When summer's verdant beauty flies,
+    And autumn glows with richer dyes,
+    A softer charm beyond them lies--
+        It is the Indian summer.
+    Ere winter's snows and winter's breeze
+    Bereave of beauty all the trees,
+    The balmy spring renewal sees
+        In the sweet Indian summer.
+
+    And thus, dear love, if early years
+    Have drown'd the germ of joy in tears,
+    A later gleam of hope appears--
+        Just like the Indian summer:
+    And ere the snows of age descend,
+    O trust me, dear one, changeless friend,
+    Our falling years may brightly end--
+        Just like the Indian summer.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[J] The brief period which succeeds the autumnal close, called the
+"Indian Summer,"--a reflex, as it were, of the early portion of the
+year--strikes a stranger in America as peculiarly beautiful, and
+quite charmed me.--LOVER.
+
+
+
+
+L. TO HELEN.[K]
+
+JULY 7, 1839.
+
+WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.--1802-1839.
+
+    Dearest, I did not dream, four years ago,
+      When through your veil I saw your bright tear shine,
+    Caught your clear whisper, exquisitely low,
+      And felt your soft hand tremble into mine,
+
+    That in so brief--so very brief a space,
+      He, who in love both clouds and cheers our life,
+    Would lay on you, so full of light, joy, grace,
+      The darker, sadder duties of the wife,--
+    Doubts, fears, and frequent toil, and constant care
+      For this poor frame, by sickness sore bested;
+    The daily tendance on the fractious chair,
+      The nightly vigil by the feverish bed.
+
+    Yet not unwelcom'd doth this morn arise,
+      Though with more gladsome beams it might have shone:
+    Strength of these weak hands, light of these dim eyes,
+      In sickness, as in health,--bless you, My Own!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[K] Praed died on the 15th of July.
+
+
+
+
+LI. HORATIUS.[L]
+
+A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX.
+
+LORD MACAULAY.--1800-1859.
+
+
+    Lars Porsena of Clusium by the Nine Gods he swore
+    That the great house of Tarquin should suffer wrong no more.
+    By the Nine Gods he swore it, and named a trysting day,
+    And bade his messengers ride forth, east and west and south
+              and north,
+      To summon his array.
+
+    East and west and south and north the messengers ride fast,
+    And tower and town and cottage have heard the trumpet's blast.
+    Shame on the false Etruscan who lingers in his home,
+    When Porsena of Clusium is on the march for Rome.
+
+    The horsemen and the footmen are pouring in amain
+    From many a stately market-place; from many a fruitful plain;
+    From many a lonely hamlet, which, hid by beech and pine,
+    Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest of purple Apennine;
+    From lordly Volaterrae, where scowls the far-famed hold
+    Piled by the hands of giants for godlike kings of old;
+    From seagirt Populonia, whose sentinels descry
+    Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops fringing the southern sky;
+    From the proud mart of Pisae, queen of the western waves,
+    Where ride Massilia's triremes heavy with fair-hair'd slaves;
+    From where sweet Clanis wanders through corn and vines and
+              flowers;
+    From where Cortona lifts to heaven her diadem of towers.
+
+    Tall are the oaks whose acorns drop in dark Auser's rill;
+    Fat are the stags that champ the boughs of the Ciminian hill;
+    Beyond all streams Clitumnus is to the herdsman dear;
+    Best of all pools the fowler loves the great Volsinian mere.
+    But now no stroke of woodman is heard by Auser's rill;
+    No hunter tracks the stag's green path up the Ciminian hill;
+    Unwatch'd along Clitumnus grazes the milk-white steer;
+    Unharm'd the waterfowl may dip in the Volsinian mere.
+    The harvests of Arretium, this year, old men shall reap;
+    This year, young boys in Umbro shall plunge the struggling sheep;
+    And in the vats of Luna, this year, the must shall foam
+    Round the white feet of laughing girls whose sires have march'd
+              to Rome.
+
+    There be thirty chosen prophets, the wisest of the land,
+    Who alway by Lars Porsena both morn and evening stand:
+    Evening and morn the Thirty have turn'd the verses o'er,
+    Traced from the right on linen white by mighty seers of yore.
+    And with one voice the Thirty have their glad answer given:
+    "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; go forth, belov'd of heaven.
+    Go, and return in glory to Clusium's royal dome;
+    And hang round Nurscia's altars the golden shields of Rome."
+
+    And now hath every city sent up her tale of men:
+    The foot are fourscore thousand, the horse are thousands ten.
+    Before the gates of Sutrium is met the great array.
+    A proud man was Lars Porsena upon the trysting day.
+    For all the Etruscan armies were ranged beneath his eye,
+    And many a banish'd Roman, and many a stout ally;
+    And with a mighty following to join the muster came
+    The Tusculan Mamilius, prince of the Latian name.
+
+    But by the yellow Tiber was tumult and affright:
+    From all the spacious champaign to Rome men took their flight.
+    A mile around the city, the throng stopp'd up the ways;
+    A fearful sight it was to see through two long nights and days.
+    For aged folks on crutches, and women great with child,
+    And mothers sobbing over babes that clung to them and smiled,
+    And sick men borne in litters high on the necks of slaves,
+    And troops of sun-burn'd husbandmen with reaping-hooks and staves,
+    And droves of mules and asses laden with skins of wine,
+    And endless flocks of goats and sheep, and endless herds of kine,
+    And endless trains of wagons that creak'd beneath the weight
+    Of corn-sacks and of household goods, choked every roaring gate.
+
+    Now, from the rock Tarpeian, could the wan burghers spy
+    The line of blazing villages red in the midnight sky.
+    The Fathers of the City, they sat all night and day,
+    For every hour some horseman came with tidings of dismay.
+    To eastward and to westward have spread the Tuscan bands;
+    Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote in Crustumerium stands.
+    Verbenna down to Ostia hath wasted all the plain;
+    Astur hath storm'd Janiculum, and the stout guards are slain.
+    I wis, in all the Senate, there was no heart so bold,
+    But sore it ached, and fast it beat, when that ill news was told.
+    Forthwith up rose the Consul, up rose the Fathers all;
+    In haste they girded up their gowns, and hied them to the wall.
+    They held a council standing, before the River-Gate;
+    Short time was there, ye well may guess, for musing or debate.
+    Out spake the Consul roundly: "The bridge must straight go down;
+    For, since Janiculum is lost, nought else can save the town."
+
+    Just then a scout came flying, all wild with haste and fear:
+    "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul: Lars Porsena is here."
+    On the low hills to westward the Consul fix'd his eye,
+    And saw the swarthy storm of dust rise fast along the sky.
+    And nearer fast and nearer doth the red whirlwind come;
+    And louder still and still more loud, from underneath that rolling
+              cloud,
+    Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, the trampling, and the hum.
+    And plainly and more plainly now through the gloom appears,
+    Far to left and far to right, in broken gleams of dark-blue light,
+    The long array of helmets bright, the long array of spears.
+    And plainly and more plainly above that glimmering line,
+    Now might ye see the banners of twelve fair cities shine;
+    But the banner of proud Clusium was highest of them all,
+    The terror of the Umbrian, the terror of the Gaul.
+    And plainly and more plainly now might the burghers know,
+    By port and vest, by horse and crest, each warlike Lucumo.
+    There Cilnius of Arretium on his fleet roan was seen;
+    And Astur of the four-fold shield, girt with the brand none else
+              may wield,
+    Tolumnius with the belt of gold, and dark Verbenna from the hold
+      By reedy Thrasymene.
+
+    Fast by the royal standard, o'erlooking all the war,
+    Lars Porsena of Clusium sat in his ivory car.
+    By the right wheel rode Mamilius, prince of the Latian name;
+    And by the left false Sextus, that wrought the deed of shame.
+    But when the face of Sextus was seen among the foes,
+    A yell that rent the firmament from all the town arose.
+    On the house-tops was no woman but spat towards him and hiss'd,
+    No child but scream'd out curses, and shook its little fist.
+    But the Consul's brow was sad, and the Consul's speech was low,
+    And darkly look'd he at the wall, and darkly at the foe.
+    "Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down;
+    And if they once may win the bridge, what hope to save the town?"
+
+    Then out spake brave Horatius, the Captain of the Gate:
+    "To every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late.
+    And how can man die better than facing fearful odds,
+    For the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods,
+    And for the tender mother who dandled him to rest,
+    And for the wife who nurses his baby at her breast,
+    And for the holy maidens who feed the eternal flame,
+    To save them from false Sextus that wrought the deed of shame?
+    Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may;
+    I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe in play.
+    In yon strait path a thousand may well be stopp'd by three.
+    Now who will stand on either hand, and keep the bridge with me?"
+
+    Then out spake Spurius Lartius; a Ramnian proud was he:
+    "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with thee."
+    And out spake strong Herminius; of Titian blood was he:
+    "I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee."
+
+    "Horatius," quoth the Consul, "as thou sayest, so let it be."
+    And straight against that great array forth went the dauntless
+              Three.
+    For Romans in Rome's quarrel spared neither land nor gold,
+    Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, in the brave days of old.
+    Then none was for a party; then all were for the state;
+    Then the great man help'd the poor, and the poor man lov'd
+              the great:
+    Then lands were fairly portion'd; then spoils were fairly sold:
+    The Romans were like brothers in the brave days of old.
+    Now Roman is to Roman more hateful than a foe,
+    And the Tribunes beard the high, and the Fathers grind the low.
+    As we wax hot in faction, in battle we wax cold:
+    Wherefore men fight not as they fought in the brave days of old.
+
+    Now while the Three were tightening their harness on their backs,
+    The Consul was the foremost man to take in hand an axe:
+    And Fathers mix'd with Commons seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
+    And smote upon the planks above, and loosed the props below.
+
+    Meanwhile the Tuscan army, right glorious to behold,
+    Came flashing back the noonday light, rank behind rank, like
+              surges bright
+        Of a broad sea of gold.
+    Four hundred trumpets sounded a peal of warlike glee,
+    As that great host, with measured tread, and spears advanced,
+              and ensigns spread,
+    Roll'd slowly towards the bridge's head, where stood the dauntless
+              Three.
+
+    The Three stood calm and silent, and look'd upon the foes,
+    And a great shout of laughter from all the vanguard rose:
+    And forth three chiefs came spurring before that deep array;
+    To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, and lifted high their
+              shields, and flew
+      To win the narrow way;
+    Aunus from green Tifernum, lord of the Hill of Vines;
+    And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves sicken in Ilva's mines;
+    And Picus, long to Clusium vassal in peace and war,
+    Who led to fight his Umbrian powers from that gray crag where,
+              girt with towers,
+    The fortress of Nequinum lowers o'er the pale waves of Nar.
+
+    Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus into the stream beneath:
+    Herminius struck at Seius, and clove him to the teeth:
+    At Picus brave Horatius darted one fiery thrust;
+    And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms clash'd in the bloody dust.
+
+    Then Ocnus of Falerii rush'd on the Roman Three;
+    And Lausulus of Urgo, the rover of the sea;
+    And Aruns of Volsinium, who slew the great wild boar,
+    The great wild boar that had his den amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen,
+    And wasted fields, and slaughter'd men, along Albinia's shore.
+
+    Herminius smote down Aruns: Lartius laid Ocnus low:
+    Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow.
+    "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate! no more, aghast and pale,
+    From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark the track of thy destroying
+              bark.
+    No more Campania's hinds shall fly to woods and caverns when
+              they spy.
+      Thy thrice accursed sail."
+
+    But now no sound of laughter was heard among the foes.
+    A wild and wrathful clamor from all the vanguard rose.
+    Six spears' lengths from the entrance halted that deep array,
+    And for a space no man came forth to win the narrow way.
+
+    But hark! the cry is Astur: and lo! the ranks divide;
+    And the great Lord of Luna comes with his stately stride.
+    Upon his ample shoulders clangs loud the four-fold shield,
+    And in his hand he shakes the brand which none but he can wield.
+
+    He smiled on those bold Romans a smile serene and high;
+    He eyed the flinching Tuscans, and scorn was in his eye.
+    Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter stand savagely at bay:
+    But will ye dare to follow, if Astur clears the way?"
+    Then, whirling up his broadsword with both hands to the height,
+    He rush'd against Horatius, and smote with all his might.
+    With shield and blade Horatius right deftly turn'd the blow.
+    The blow, though turn'd, came yet too nigh; it miss'd his helm,
+              but gash'd his thigh:
+    The Tuscans raised a joyful cry to see the red blood flow.
+    He reel'd, and on Herminius he lean'd one breathing-space;
+    Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds, sprang right at Astur's face.
+    Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, so fierce a thrust he sped,
+    The good sword stood a hand-breadth out behind the Tuscan's head.
+    And the great Lord of Luna fell at that deadly stroke,
+    As falls on Mount Alvernus a thunder-smitten oak.
+    Far o'er the crashing forest the giant arms lie spread;
+    And the pale augurs, muttering low, gaze on the blasted head.
+    On Astur's throat Horatius right firmly press'd his heel,
+    And thrice and four times tugg'd amain, ere he wrench'd out the
+              steel.
+    "And see," he cried, "the welcome, fair guests, that waits you here!
+    What noble Lucumo comes next to taste our Roman cheer?"
+
+    But at his haughty challenge a sullen murmur ran,
+    Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, along that glittering van.
+    There lack'd not men of prowess, nor men of lordly race;
+    For all Etruria's noblest were round the fatal place.
+    But all Etruria's noblest felt their hearts sink to see
+    On the earth the bloody corpses, in the path the dauntless Three:
+    And, from the ghastly entrance where those bold Romans stood,
+    All shrank, like boys who unaware, ranging the woods to start a hare,
+    Come to the mouth of the dark lair where, growling low, a fierce old
+              bear
+      Lies amidst bones and blood.
+    Was none who would be foremost to lead such dire attack:
+    But those behind cried "Forward!" and those before cried "Back!"
+    And backward now and forward wavers the deep array;
+    And on the tossing sea of steel, to and fro the standards reel;
+    And the victorious trumpet-peal dies fitfully away.
+
+    Yet one man for one moment stood out before the crowd;
+    Well known was he to all the Three, and they gave him greeting loud.
+    "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! now welcome to thy home!
+    Why dost thou stay, and turn away? here lies the road to Rome."
+    Thrice look'd he at the city; thrice look'd he at the dead;
+    And thrice came on in fury, and thrice turn'd back in dread;
+    And, white with fear and hatred, scowl'd at the narrow way
+    Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, the bravest Tuscans lay.
+
+    But meanwhile axe and lever have manfully been plied;
+    And now the bridge hangs tottering above the boiling tide.
+    "Come back, come back, Horatius!" loud cried the Fathers all.
+    "Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! back, ere the ruin fall!"
+    Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back:
+    And, as they pass'd, beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack.
+    But when they turn'd their faces, and on the farther shore
+    Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have cross'd once more.
+    But with a crash like thunder fell every loosen'd beam,
+    And, like a dam, the mighty wreck lay right athwart the stream:
+    And a long shout of triumph rose from the walls of Rome,
+    As to the highest turret-tops was splash'd the yellow foam.
+    And, like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rein,
+    The furious river struggled hard, and toss'd his tawny mane,
+    And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free,
+    And whirling down, in fierce career, battlement, and plank, and
+              pier,
+      Rush'd headlong to the sea.
+
+    Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind;
+    Thrice thirty thousand foes before, and the broad flood behind.
+    "Down with him!" cried false Sextus, with a smile on his pale face.
+    "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "now yield thee to our grace."
+    Round turn'd he, as not deigning those craven ranks to see;
+    Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, to Sextus nought spake he;
+    But he saw on Palatinus the white porch of his home;
+    And he spake to the noble river that rolls by the towers of Rome.
+    "O Tiber! father Tiber! to whom the Romans pray,
+    A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day!"
+    So he spake, and speaking sheathed the good sword by his side,
+    And with his harness on his back plunged headlong in the tide.
+
+    No sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank;
+    But friends and foes in dumb surprise, with parted lips and
+              straining eyes,
+      Stood gazing where he sank;
+    And when above the surges they saw his crest appear,
+    All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, and even the ranks of Tuscany
+      Could scarce forbear to cheer.
+    But fiercely ran the current, swollen high by months of rain:
+    And fast his blood was flowing, and he was sore in pain,
+    And heavy with his armor, and spent with changing blows:
+    And oft they thought him sinking, but still again he rose.
+    Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case,
+    Struggle through such a raging flood safe to the landing-place:
+    But his limbs were borne up bravely by the brave heart within,
+    And our good father Tiber bare bravely up his chin.
+
+    "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus; "will not the villain drown?
+    But for this stay, ere close of day we should have sack'd the town!"
+    "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "and bring him safe to shore;
+    For such a gallant feat of arms was never seen before."
+    And now he feels the bottom; now on dry earth he stands;
+    Now round him throng the Fathers to press his gory hands;
+    And now, with shouts and clapping, and noise of weeping loud,
+    He enters through the River-Gate, borne by the joyous crowd.
+
+    They gave him of the corn-land, that was of public right,
+    As much as two strong oxen could plough from morn till night;
+    And they made a molten image, and set it up on high,
+    And there it stands unto this day to witness if I lie.
+    It stands in the Comitium, plain for all folk to see;
+    Horatius in his harness, halting upon one knee:
+    And underneath is written, in letters all of gold,
+    How valiantly he kept the bridge in the brave days of old.
+
+    And still his name sounds stirring unto the men of Rome,
+    As the trumpet-blast that cries to them to charge the Volscian home;
+    And wives still pray to Juno for boys with hearts as bold
+    As his who kept the bridge so well in the brave days of old.
+    And in the nights of winter, when the cold north-winds blow,
+    And the long howling of the wolves is heard amidst the snow;
+    When round the lonely cottage roars loud the tempest's din,
+    And the good logs of Algidus roar louder yet within;
+    When the oldest cask is open'd, and the largest lamp is lit;
+    When the chestnuts glow in the embers, and the kid turns on the
+              spit;
+    When young and old in circle around the firebrands close;
+    When the girls are weaving baskets, and the lads are shaping bows;
+    When the goodman mends his armor, and trims his helmet's plume;
+    When the goodwife's shuttle merrily goes flashing through the loom;
+    With weeping and with laughter still is the story told,
+    How well Horatius kept the bridge in the brave days of old.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[L] For the sake of space a change has been made from the usual form
+of the poem.
+
+
+
+
+LII. THE RAVEN.
+
+EDGAR ALLAN POE.--1809-1849.
+
+
+    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder'd, weak and weary,
+    Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,--
+    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
+    As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber-door.
+    "'Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, "tapping at my chamber-door,--
+              Only this, and nothing more."
+
+    Ah! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
+    And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
+    Eagerly I wish'd the morrow: vainly I had sought to borrow
+    From my books surcease of sorrow,--sorrow for the lost Lenore;
+    For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
+              Nameless here forevermore.
+
+    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
+    Thrill'd me--fill'd me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
+    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
+    "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber-door,--
+    Some late visitor, entreating entrance at my chamber-door;
+              This it is, and nothing more."
+
+    Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer,
+    "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
+    But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
+    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber-door,
+    That I scarce was sure I heard you";--here I open'd wide the door;--
+              Darkness there, and nothing more.
+
+    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering,
+        fearing,
+    Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
+    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
+    And the only word there spoken was the whisper'd word "Lenore?"
+    This I whisper'd, and an echo murmur'd back the word "Lenore!"
+              Merely this, and nothing more.
+
+    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
+    Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before.
+    "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window-lattice;
+    Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore,--
+    Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore:--
+              'Tis the wind, and nothing more."
+
+    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
+    In there stepp'd a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
+    Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopp'd or stay'd he,
+    But, with mien of lord or lady, perch'd above my chamber-door;
+    Perch'd upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber-door;--
+              Perch'd, and sat, and nothing more.
+
+    Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
+    By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
+    "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure
+        no craven,
+    Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly
+        shore;--
+    Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    Much I marvell'd this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
+    Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
+    For we can not help agreeing that no living human being
+    Ever yet was bless'd with seeing bird above his chamber-door,--
+    Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber-door,
+              With such name as "Nevermore."
+
+    But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
+    That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
+    Nothing further then he utter'd, not a feather then he flutter'd,
+    Till I scarcely more than mutter'd, "Other friends have flown
+        before:
+    On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
+              Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
+
+    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
+    "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
+    Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful Disaster
+    Follow'd fast, and follow'd faster, till his songs one burden
+        bore,--
+    Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore,
+              Of--'Never--Nevermore.'"
+
+    But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
+    Straight I wheel'd a cushion'd seat in front of bird, and bust,
+        and door;
+    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
+    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
+    What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore--
+              Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
+
+    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
+    To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burn'd into my bosom's core:
+    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
+    On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er;
+    But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
+              _She_ shall press--ah! nevermore.
+
+    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
+    Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
+    "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath
+        sent thee--
+    Respite, respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
+    Quaff, Oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
+    Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest toss'd thee here ashore,
+    Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted,
+    On this home by Horror haunted,--tell me truly, I implore,
+    Is there--_is_ there balm in Gilead? tell me--tell me, I implore!"
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
+    By that heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore,
+    Tell this soul, with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
+    It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore,--
+    Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore."
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shriek'd,
+        upstarting,--
+    "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
+    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
+    Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door!
+    Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
+        door!"
+              Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
+
+    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
+    On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-door;
+    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
+    And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
+        floor:
+    And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
+              Shall be lifted--NEVERMORE!
+
+
+
+
+LIII. DAVID SWAN--A FANTASY.
+
+NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.--1804-1864.
+
+_From_ "TWICE-TOLD TALES."
+
+
+We can be but partially acquainted even with the events which actually
+influence our course through life, and our final destiny. There are
+innumerable other events, if such they may be called, which come close
+upon us, yet pass away without actual results, or even betraying their
+near approach by the reflection of any light or shadow across our minds.
+Could we know all the vicissitudes of our fortunes, life would be too
+full of hope and fear, exultation or disappointment, to afford us a
+single hour of true serenity. This idea may be illustrated by a page
+from the secret history of David Swan.
+
+We have nothing to do with David until we find him, at the age of
+twenty, on the high road from his native place to the city of Boston,
+where his uncle, a small dealer in the grocery line, was to take him
+behind the counter. Be it enough to say, that he was a native of New
+Hampshire, born of respectable parents, and had received an ordinary
+school education, with a classic finish by a year at Gilmanton Academy.
+After journeying on foot from sunrise till nearly noon of a summer's
+day, his weariness and the increasing heat determined him to sit down in
+the first convenient shade, and await the coming up of the stage-coach.
+As if planted on purpose for him, there soon appeared a little tuft of
+maples, with a delightful recess in the midst, and such a fresh bubbling
+spring, that it seemed never to have sparkled for any wayfarer but David
+Swan. Virgin or not, he kissed it with his thirsty lips, and then flung
+himself along the brink, pillowing his head upon some shirts and a pair
+of pantaloons, tied up in a striped cotton handkerchief. The sunbeams
+could not reach him; the dust did not yet rise from the road, after the
+heavy rain of yesterday; and his grassy lair suited the young man better
+than a bed of down. The spring murmured drowsily beside him; the
+branches waved dreamily across the blue sky overhead; and a deep sleep,
+perchance hiding dreams within its depths, fell upon David Swan. But we
+are to relate events which he did not dream of.
+
+While he lay sound asleep in the shade, other people were wide-awake,
+and passed to an fro, afoot, on horseback, and in all sorts of vehicles,
+along the sunny road by his bed-chamber. Some looked neither to the
+right hand nor to the left, and knew not that he was there; some merely
+glanced that way, without admitting the slumberer among their busy
+thoughts; some laughed to see how soundly he slept; and several, whose
+hearts were brimming full of scorn, ejected their venomous superfluity
+upon David Swan. A middle-aged widow, when nobody else was near, thrust
+her head a little way into the recess, and vowed that the young fellow
+looked charming in his sleep. A temperance lecturer saw him, and wrought
+poor David into the texture of his evening's discourse, as an awful
+instance of dead-drunkenness by the road-side. But censure, praise,
+merriment, scorn, and indifference, were all one, or rather all nothing,
+to David Swan.
+
+He had slept only a few moments when a brown carriage, drawn by a
+handsome pair of horses, bowled easily along, and was brought to a
+stand-still nearly in front of David's resting-place. A linch-pin had
+fallen out, and permitted one of the wheels to slide off. The damage was
+slight, and occasioned merely a momentary alarm to an elderly merchant
+and his wife, who were returning to Boston in the carriage. While the
+coachman and a servant were replacing the wheel, the lady and gentleman
+sheltered themselves beneath the maple-trees, and there espied the
+bubbling fountain, and David Swan asleep beside it. Impressed with the
+awe which the humblest sleeper usually sheds around him, the merchant
+trod as lightly as the gout would allow; and his spouse took good heed
+not to rustle her silk gown, lest David should start up, all of a
+sudden.
+
+"How soundly he sleeps!" whispered the old gentleman. "From what a depth
+he draws that easy breath! Such sleep as that, brought on without an
+opiate, would be worth more to me than half my income, for it would
+suppose health and an untroubled mind."
+
+"And youth besides," said the lady. "Healthy and quiet age does not
+sleep thus. Our slumber is no more like his than our wakefulness."
+
+The longer they looked, the more did this elderly couple feel interested
+in the unknown youth, to whom the wayside and the maple shade were as a
+secret chamber, with the rich gloom of damask curtains brooding over
+him. Perceiving that a stray sunbeam glimmered down upon his face, the
+lady contrived to twist a branch aside, so as to intercept it. And
+having done this little act of kindness, she began to feel like a mother
+to him.
+
+"Providence seems to have laid him here," whispered she to her husband,
+"and to have brought us hither to find him, after our disappointment in
+our cousin's son. Methinks I can see a likeness to our departed Henry.
+Shall we waken him?"
+
+"To what purpose?" said the merchant, hesitating. "We know nothing of
+the youth's character."
+
+"That open countenance!" replied his wife, in the same hushed voice, yet
+earnestly. "This innocent sleep!"
+
+While these whispers were passing, the sleeper's heart did not throb,
+nor his breath become agitated, nor his features betray the least token
+of interest. Yet Fortune was bending over him, just ready to let fall a
+burthen of gold. The old merchant had lost his only son, and had no heir
+to his wealth, except a distant relative, with whose conduct he was
+dissatisfied. In such cases, people sometimes do stranger things than to
+act the magician, and awaken a young man to splendor, who fell asleep in
+poverty.
+
+"Shall we not waken him?" repeated the lady, persuasively.
+
+"The coach is ready, sir," said the servant, behind.
+
+The old couple started, reddened, and hurried away, mutually wondering
+that they should ever have dreamed of doing anything so very ridiculous.
+The merchant threw himself back in the carriage, and occupied his mind
+with the plan of a magnificent asylum for unfortunate men of business.
+Meanwhile, David Swan enjoyed his nap.
+
+The carriage could not have gone above a mile or two, when a pretty
+young girl came along with a tripping pace, which showed precisely how
+her little heart was dancing in her bosom. Perhaps it was this merry
+kind of motion that caused--is there any harm in saying it?--her garter
+to slip its knot. Conscious that the silken girth, if silk it were, was
+relaxing its hold, she turned aside into the shelter of the maple-trees,
+and there found a young man asleep by the spring! Blushing as red as any
+rose, that she should have intruded into a gentleman's bed-chamber, and
+for such a purpose, too, she was about to make her escape on tiptoe. But
+there was peril near the sleeper. A monster of a bee had been wandering
+overhead--buzz, buzz, buzz--now among the leaves, now flashing through
+the strips of sunshine, and now lost in the dark shade, till finally he
+appeared to be settling on the eyelid of David Swan. The sting of a bee
+is sometimes deadly. As free-hearted as she was innocent, the girl
+attacked the intruder with her handkerchief, brushed him soundly, and
+drove him from the maple shade. How sweet a picture! This good deed
+accomplished, with quickened breath, and a deeper blush, she stole a
+glance at the youthful stranger, for whom she had been battling with a
+dragon in the air.
+
+"He is handsome!" thought she, and blushed redder yet.
+
+How could it be that no dream of bliss grew so strong within him, that,
+shattered by its very strength, it should part asunder, and allow him to
+perceive the girl among its phantoms? Why, at least, did no smile of
+welcome brighten upon his face? She was come, the maid whose soul,
+according to the old and beautiful idea, had been severed from his own,
+and whom, in all his vague but passionate desires, he yearned to meet.
+Her only could he love with a perfect love--him only could she receive
+into the depths of her heart--and now her image was faintly blushing in
+the fountain by his side; should it pass away, its happy lustre would
+never gleam upon his life again.
+
+"How sound he sleeps!" murmured the girl.
+
+She departed, but did not trip along the road so lightly as when she
+came.
+
+Now, this girl's father was a thriving country merchant in the
+neighborhood, and happened, at that identical time, to be looking out
+for just such a young man as David Swan. Had David formed a wayside
+acquaintance with the daughter, he would have become the father's clerk,
+and all else in natural succession. So here, again, had good
+fortune--the best of fortunes--stolen so near, that her garments brushed
+against him; and he knew nothing of the matter.
+
+The girl was hardly out of sight, when two men turned aside beneath the
+maple shade. Both had dark faces, set off by cloth caps, which were
+drawn down aslant over their brows. Their dresses were shabby, yet had a
+certain smartness. These were a couple of rascals, who got their living
+by whatever the devil sent them, and now, in the interim of other
+business, had staked the joint profits of their next piece of villainy
+on a game of cards, which was to have been decided here under the trees.
+But, finding David asleep by the spring, one of the rogues whispered to
+his fellow--
+
+"Hist!--Do you see that bundle under his head?"
+
+The other villain nodded, winked, and leered.
+
+"I'll bet you a horn of brandy," said the first, "that the chap has
+either a pocket-book or a snug little hoard of small change, stowed away
+amongst his shirts. And if not there, we shall find it in his
+pantaloons' pocket."
+
+"But how if he wakes?" said the other.
+
+His companion thrust aside his waistcoat, pointed to the handle of a
+dirk, and nodded.
+
+"So be it!" muttered the second villain.
+
+They approached the unconscious David, and, while one pointed the dagger
+towards his heart, the other began to search the bundle beneath his
+head. Their two faces, grim, wrinkled, and ghastly with guilt and fear,
+bent over their victim, looking horribly enough to be mistaken for
+fiends, should he suddenly awake. Nay, had the villains glanced aside
+into the spring, even they would hardly have known themselves, as
+reflected there. But David Swan had never worn a more tranquil aspect,
+even when asleep on his mother's breast.
+
+"I must take away the bundle," whispered one.
+
+"If he stirs, I'll strike," muttered the other.
+
+But, at this moment, a dog, scenting along the ground, came in beneath
+the maple-trees, and gazed alternately at each of these wicked men, and
+then at the quiet sleeper. He then lapped out of the fountain.
+
+"Pshaw!" said one villain. "We can do nothing now. The dog's master must
+be close behind."
+
+"Let's take a drink, and be off," said the other.
+
+The man with the dagger thrust back the weapon into his bosom, and drew
+forth a pocket-pistol, but not of that kind which kills by a single
+discharge. It was a flask of liquor, with a block-tin tumbler screwed
+upon the mouth. Each drank a comfortable dram, and left the spot, with
+so many jests, and such laughter at their unaccomplished wickedness,
+that they might be said to have gone on their way rejoicing. In a few
+hours they had forgotten the whole affair, nor once imagined that the
+recording angel had written down the crime of murder against their
+souls, in letters as durable as eternity. As for David Swan, he still
+slept quietly, neither conscious of the shadow of death when it hung
+over him, nor of the glow of renewed life when that shadow was
+withdrawn.
+
+He slept, but no longer so quietly as at first. An hour's repose had
+snatched from his elastic frame the weariness with which many hours of
+toil had burthened it. Now he stirred--now moved his lips, without a
+sound--now talked in an inward tone to the noonday spectres of his
+dream. But a noise of wheels came rattling louder and louder along the
+road, until it dashed through the dispersing mist of David's
+slumber--and there was the stage-coach. He started up, with all his
+ideas about him.
+
+"Hallo, driver! Take a passenger?" shouted he.
+
+"Room on top!" answered the driver.
+
+Up mounted David, and bowled away merrily towards Boston, without so
+much as a parting glance at that fountain of dreamlike vicissitude. He
+knew not that a phantom of Wealth had thrown a golden hue upon its
+waters, nor that one of Love had sighed softly to their murmur, nor that
+one of Death had threatened to crimson them with his blood--all, in the
+brief hour since he lay down to sleep. Sleeping or waking, we hear not
+the airy footsteps of the strange things that almost happen. Does it not
+argue a superintending Providence, that, while viewless and unexpected
+events thrust themselves continually athwart our path, there should
+still be regularity enough in mortal life, to render foresight even
+partially available?
+
+
+
+
+LIV. MY KATE.
+
+ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.--1809-1861.
+
+
+    She was not as pretty as women I know,
+    And yet all your best made of sunshine and snow
+    Drop to shade, melt to nought in the long-trodden ways,
+    While she's still remember'd on warm and cold days--
+              My Kate.
+
+    Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace;
+    You turn'd from the fairest to gaze on her face:
+    And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth,
+    You saw as distinctly her soul and her truth--
+              My Kate.
+
+    Such a blue inner light from her eyelids outbroke,
+    You look'd at her silence and fancied she spoke:
+    When she did, so peculiar yet soft was the tone,
+    Though the loudest spoke also, you heard her alone--
+              My Kate.
+
+    I doubt if she said to you much that could act
+    As a thought or suggestion: she did not attract
+    In the sense of the brilliant or wise: I infer
+    'Twas her thinking of others, made you think of her--
+              My Kate.
+
+    She never found fault with you, never implied
+    Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side
+    Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town
+    The children were gladder that pull'd at her gown--
+              My Kate.
+
+    None knelt at her feet confess'd lovers in thrall;
+    They knelt more to God than they used,--that was all;
+    If you praised her as charming, some ask'd what you meant,
+    But the charm of her presence was felt when she went--
+              My Kate.
+
+    The weak and the gentle, the ribald and rude,
+    She took as she found them, and did them all good:
+    It always was so with her: see what you have!
+    She has made the grass greener even here ... with her grave--
+              My Kate.
+
+    My dear one!--when thou wast alive with the rest,
+    I held thee the sweetest and lov'd thee the best:
+    And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy part
+    As thy smiles used to do for thyself, my sweet Heart--
+              My Kate?
+
+
+
+
+LV. A DEAD ROSE.
+
+MRS. BROWNING.
+
+
+        O Rose, who dares to name thee?
+    No longer roseate now, nor soft nor sweet,
+    But pale and hard and dry as stubble wheat,--
+      Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.
+
+        The breeze that used to blow thee
+    Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away
+    An odor up the lane to last all day,--
+      If breathing now, unsweeten'd would forego thee.
+
+        The sun that used to smite thee,
+    And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn
+    Till beam appear'd to bloom, and flower to burn,--
+      If shining now, with not a hue would light thee.
+
+        The dew that used to wet thee,
+    And, white first, grow incarnadined because
+    It lay upon thee where the crimson was,--
+      If dropping now, would darken where it met thee.
+
+        The fly that 'lit upon thee
+    To stretch the tendrils of its tiny feet
+    Along thy leafs pure edges after heat,--
+      If 'lighting now, would coldly overrun thee.
+
+        The bee that once did suck thee,
+    And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive,
+    And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,--
+      If passing now, would blindly overlook thee.
+
+        The heart doth recognize thee,
+    Alone, alone! the heart doth smell thee sweet,
+    Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete,
+      Perceiving all those changes that disguise thee.
+
+        Yes, and the heart doth owe thee
+    More love, dead rose, than to any roses bold
+    Which Julia wears at dances, smiling cold:--
+      Lie still upon this heart which breaks below thee!
+
+
+
+
+LVI. TO THE EVENING WIND.
+
+WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.--1794-1878.
+
+
+    Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou
+      That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,
+    Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow;
+      Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,
+    Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,
+      Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,
+    And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
+    To the scorch'd land, thou wanderer of the sea.
+
+    Nor I alone;--a thousand bosoms round
+      Inhale thee in the fulness of delight;
+    And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound
+      Livelier at coming of the wind of night;
+    And languishing to hear thy grateful sound,
+      Lies the vast inland stretch'd beyond the sight.
+    Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth,
+    God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!
+
+    Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest,
+      Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse
+    The wide old wood from his majestic rest,
+      Summoning from the innumerable boughs
+    The strange deep harmonies that haunt his breast;
+      Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows
+    The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,
+    And where the o'er-shadowing branches sweep the grass.
+
+    The faint old man shall lean his silver head
+      To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
+    And dry the moisten'd curls that overspread
+      His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;
+    And they who stand about the sick man's bed
+      Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,
+    And softly part his curtains to allow
+    Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.
+
+    Go,--but the circle of eternal change,
+      Which is the life of nature, shall restore,
+    With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,
+      Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more;
+    Sweet odors in the sea-air, sweet and strange,
+      Shall tell the homesick mariner of the shore;
+    And, listening to thy murmur, he shall dream
+    He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.
+
+
+
+
+LVII.--DEATH OF THE PROTECTOR.[M]
+
+THOMAS CARLYLE.--1795-1881.
+
+_From_ OLIVER CROMWELL'S LETTERS AND SPEECHES.
+
+
+And so we have now nothing more;--and Oliver has nothing more. His
+Speakings, and also his Actings, all his manifold Strugglings, more or
+less victorious, to utter the great God's-Message that was in him,--have
+here what we call ended. This Summer of 1658, likewise victorious after
+struggle, is his last in our World of Time. Thenceforth he enters the
+Eternities; and rests upon his arms _there_.
+
+Oliver's look was yet strong; and young for his years, which were
+Fifty-nine last April. The "Three-score and ten years," the Psalmist's
+limit, which probably was often in Oliver's thoughts and in those of
+others there, might have been anticipated for him: Ten Years more of
+Life;--which, we may compute, would have given another History to all
+the Centuries of England. But it was not to be so, it was to be
+otherwise. Oliver's health, as we might observe, was but uncertain in
+late times; often "indisposed" the spring before last. His course of
+life had not been favorable to health! "A burden too heavy for man!" as
+he himself, with a sigh, would sometimes say. Incessant toil;
+inconceivable labor, of head and heart and hand; toil, peril, and sorrow
+manifold, continued for near Twenty years now, had done their part:
+those robust life-energies, it afterwards appeared, had been gradually
+eaten out. Like a Tower strong to the eye, but with its foundations
+undermined; which has not long to stand; the fall of which, on any
+shock, may be sudden.--
+
+The Manzinis and Ducs de Crequi, with their splendors, and
+congratulations about Dunkirk, interesting to the street-populations and
+general public, had not yet withdrawn, when at Hampton Court there had
+begun a private scene, of much deeper and quite opposite interest there.
+The Lady Claypole, Oliver's favorite Daughter, a favorite of all the
+world, had fallen sick we know not when; lay sick now,--to death, as it
+proved. Her disease was of a nature, the painfullest and most harassing
+to mind and sense, it is understood, that falls to the lot of a human
+creature. Hampton Court we can fancy once more, in those July days, a
+house of sorrow; pale Death knocking there, as at the door of the
+meanest hut. "She had great sufferings, great exercises of spirit."
+Yes:--and in the depths of the old Centuries, we see a pale anxious
+Mother, anxious Husband, anxious weeping Sisters, a poor young Frances
+weeping anew in her weeds. "For the last fourteen days" his Highness had
+been by her bedside at Hampton Court, unable to attend to any public
+business whatever. Be still, my Child; trust thou yet in God: in the
+waves of the Dark River, there too is He a God of help!--On the 6th day
+of August she lay dead; at rest forever. My young, my beautiful, my
+brave! She is taken from me; I am left bereaved of her. The Lord giveth,
+and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the Name of the Lord!--...
+
+In the same dark days, occurred George Fox's third and last interview
+with Oliver.--.... George dates nothing; and his facts everywhere lie
+round him like the leather-parings of his old shop: but we judge it may
+have been about the time when the Manzinis and the Ducs de Crequi were
+parading in their gilt coaches, That George and two Friends "going out
+of Town," on a summer day, "two of Hacker's men" had met them,--taken
+them, brought them to the Mews. "Prisoners there awhile:"--but the
+Lord's power was over Hacker's men; they had to let us go. Whereupon:
+
+"The same day, taking boat I went down" (_up_) "to Kingston, and from
+thence to Hampton Court, to speak with the Protector about the
+Sufferings of Friends. I met him riding into Hampton-Court Park; and
+before I came to him, as he rode at the head of his Lifeguard, I saw and
+felt a waft" (_whiff_) "of death go forth against him."----Or in favor
+of him, George? His life, if thou knew it, has not been a merry thing
+for this man, now or heretofore! I fancy he has been looking, this long
+while, to give it up, whenever the Commander-in-Chief required. To quit
+his laborious sentry-post; honorably lay-up his arms, and be gone to his
+rest:--all Eternity to rest in, O George! Was thy own life merry, for
+example, in the hollow of the tree; clad permanently in leather? And
+does kingly purple, and governing refractory worlds instead of stitching
+coarse shoes, make it merrier? The waft of death is not against _him_, I
+think,--perhaps against thee, and me, and others, O George, when the
+Nell-Gwynn Defender and Two Centuries of all-victorious Cant have come
+in upon us! My unfortunate George----"a waft of death go forth against
+him; and when I came to him, he looked like a dead man. After I had laid
+the Sufferings of Friends before him, and had warned him according as I
+was moved to speak to him, he bade me come to his house. So I returned
+to Kingston; and, the next day, went up to Hampton Court to speak
+farther with him. But when I came, Harvey, who was one that waited on
+him, told me the Doctors were not willing that I should speak with him.
+So I passed away, and never saw him more."
+
+Friday the 20th of August 1658, this was probably the day on which
+George Fox saw Oliver riding into Hampton Park with his Guards, for the
+last time. That Friday, as we find, his Highness seemed much better: but
+on the morrow a sad change had taken place; feverish symptoms, for which
+the Doctors rigorously prescribed quiet. Saturday to Tuesday the
+symptoms continued ever worsening: a kind of tertian ague, "bastard
+tertian" as the old Doctors name it; for which it was ordered that his
+Highness should return to Whitehall, as to a more favorable air in that
+complaint. On Tuesday accordingly he quitted Hampton Court;--never to
+see it more.
+
+"His time was come," says Harvey; "and neither prayers nor tears could
+prevail with God to lengthen out his life and continue him longer to us.
+Prayers abundantly and incessantly poured out on his behalf, both
+publicly and privately, as was observed, in a more than ordinary way.
+Besides many a secret sigh,--secret and unheard by men, yet like the cry
+of Moses, more loud, and strongly laying hold on God, than many spoken
+supplications. All which,--the hearts of God's People being thus
+mightily stirred up,--did seem to beget confidence in some, and hopes in
+all; yea some thoughts in himself, that God would restore him."
+
+"Prayers public and private:" they are worth imagining to ourselves.
+Meetings of Preachers, Chaplains, and Godly Persons; "Owen, Goodwin,
+Sterry, with a company of others, in an adjoining room"; in Whitehall,
+and elsewhere over religious London and England, fervent outpourings of
+many a loyal heart. For there were hearts to whom the nobleness of this
+man was known; and his worth to the Puritan Cause was evident.
+Prayers,--strange enough to us; in a dialect fallen obsolete, forgotten
+now. Authentic wrestlings of ancient Human Souls,--who were alive then,
+with their affections, awestruck pieties; with their Human Wishes, risen
+to be _transcendent_, hoping to prevail with the Inexorable. All
+swallowed now in the depths of dark Time; which is full of such, since
+the beginning!--Truly it is a great scene of World-History, this in old
+Whitehall: Oliver Cromwell drawing nigh to his end. The exit of Oliver
+Cromwell and of English Puritanism; a great Light, one of our few
+authentic Solar Luminaries, going down now amid the clouds of Death.
+Like the setting of a great victorious Summer Sun; its course now
+finished. "_So stirbt ein Held_," says Schiller, "So dies a Hero! Sight
+worthy to be worshipped!"--He died, this Hero Oliver, in Resignation to
+God; as the Brave have all done. "We could not be more desirous he
+should abide," says the pious Harvey, "than he was content and willing
+to be gone." The struggle lasted, amid hope and fear, for ten days....
+
+On Monday August 30th, there roared and howled all day a mighty storm of
+wind.... It was on this stormy Monday, while rocking winds, heard in the
+sickroom and everywhere, were piping aloud, that Thurloe and an Official
+person entered to enquire, Who, in case of the worst, was to be his
+Highness's Successor? The Successor is named in a sealed Paper already
+drawn-up, above a year ago, at Hampton Court; now lying in such and such
+a place. The Paper was sent for, searched for; it could never be found.
+Richard's is the name understood to have been written in that Paper: not
+a good name; but in fact one does not know. In ten years' time, had ten
+years more been granted, Richard might have become a fitter man; might
+have been cancelled, if palpably unfit. Or perhaps it was Fleetwood's
+name,--and the Paper, by certain parties, was stolen? None knows. On the
+Thursday night following, "and not till then," his Highness is
+understood to have formally named "Richard",--or perhaps it might only
+be some heavy-laden "Yes, yes!" spoken, out of the thick death-slumbers,
+in answer to Thurloe's _question_ "Richard?" The thing is a little
+uncertain. It was, once more, a matter of much moment;--giving color
+probably to all the subsequent Centuries of England, this answer!--...
+
+Thursday night the Writer of our old Pamphlet [Harvey] was himself in
+attendance on his Highness; and has preserved a trait or two; with which
+let us hasten to conclude. Tomorrow is September Third, always kept as a
+Thanksgiving day, since the Victories of Dunbar and Worcester. The
+wearied one, "that very night before the Lord took him to his
+everlasting rest," was heard thus, with oppressed voice, speaking:
+
+"'Truly God is good; indeed He is; He will not'----Then his speech
+failed him, but as I apprehended, it was, 'He will not leave me.' This
+saying, 'God is good,' he frequently used all along; and would speak it
+with much cheerfulness, and fervor of spirit, in the midst of his
+pains.--Again he said: 'I would be willing to live to be farther
+serviceable to God and His People: but my work is done. Yet God will be
+with His People.'
+
+"He was very restless most part of the night, speaking often to himself.
+And there being something to drink offered him, he was desired To take
+the same, and endeavor to sleep.--Unto which he answered: 'It is not my
+design to drink or sleep; but my design is, to make what haste I can to
+be gone.'--
+
+"Afterwards, towards morning, he used divers holy expressions, implying
+much inward consolation and peace; among the rest he spake some
+exceeding self-debasing words, _annihilating_ and judging himself. And
+truly it was observed, that a public spirit to God's Cause did breathe
+in him,--as in his lifetime, so now to his very last."
+
+When the morrow's sun rose, Oliver was speechless; between three and
+four in the afternoon, he lay dead. Friday 3rd September 1658. "The
+consternation and astonishment of all people," writes Fauconberg, "are
+inexpressible; their hearts seem as if sunk within them. My poor
+Wife,--I know not what on earth to do with her. When seemingly quieted,
+she bursts out again into a passion that tears her very heart in
+pieces."--Husht, poor weeping Mary! Here is a Life-battle right nobly
+done. Seest thou not,
+
+    "The storm is changed into a calm,
+    At His command and will;
+    So that the waves which raged before
+    Now quiet are and still!
+
+    "Then are _they_ glad,--because at rest
+    And quiet now they be:
+    So to the haven He them brings
+    Which they desired to see."
+
+"Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord;" blessed are the valiant
+that have lived in the Lord. "Amen, saith the Spirit,"--Amen. "They do
+rest from their labors, and their works follow them."
+
+"Their works follow them." As, I think, this Oliver Cromwell's works
+have done and are still doing! We have had our "Revolutions of
+Eighty-eight," officially called "glorious"; and other Revolutions not
+yet called glorious; and somewhat has been gained for poor Mankind.
+Men's ears are not now slit-off by rash Officiality; Officiality will,
+for long henceforth, be more cautious about men's ears. The tyrannous
+Star-chambers, branding-irons, chimerical Kings and Surplices at
+All-hallowtide, they are gone, or with immense velocity going. Oliver's
+works do follow him!--The works of a man, bury them under what
+guano-mountains and obscene owl-droppings you will, do not perish,
+cannot perish. What of Heroism, what of Eternal Light was in a Man and
+his Life, is with very great exactness added to the Eternities; remains
+forever a new divine portion of the Sum of Things; and no owl's voice,
+this way or that, in the least avails in the matter.--But we have to
+end here.
+
+Oliver is gone; and with him England's Puritanism, laboriously built
+together by this man, and made a thing far-shining, miraculous to its
+own Century, and memorable to all the Centuries, soon goes. Puritanism,
+without its King, is _kingless_, anarchic; falls into dislocation,
+self-collision; staggers, plunges into ever deeper anarchy; King,
+Defender of the Puritan Faith there can now none be found;--and nothing
+is left but to recall the old disowned Defender with the remnants of his
+Four Surplices, and Two Centuries of _Hypocrisis_ (or Play-acting _not_
+so-called), and put-up with all that, the best we may. The Genius of
+England no longer soars Sunward, world-defiant, like an Eagle through
+the storms, "mewing her mighty youth," as John Milton saw her do: the
+Genius of England, much liker a greedy Ostrich intent on provender and a
+whole skin mainly, stands with its _other_ extremity Sunward; with its
+Ostrich-head stuck into the readiest bush, of old Church-tippets,
+King-cloaks, or what other "sheltering Fallacy" there may be, and _so_
+awaits the issue. The issue has been slow; but it is now seen to have
+been inevitable. No Ostrich, intent on gross terrene provender, and
+sticking its head into Fallacies, but will be awakened one day,--in a
+terrible _a-posteriori_ manner, if not otherwise!----Awake before it
+come to that; gods and men bid us awake! The Voices of our Fathers, with
+thousand-fold stern monition to one and all, bid us awake.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[M] The author's use of capital letters and punctuation marks has
+been retained.
+
+
+
+
+LVIII. EACH AND ALL.
+
+RALPH WALDO EMERSON.--1803-1882.
+
+
+    Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloak'd clown
+    Of thee from the hill-top looking down;
+    The heifer that lows in the upland farm,
+    Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
+    The sexton, tolling his bell at noon,
+    Deems not that great Napoleon
+    Stops his horse, and lists with delight,
+    While his files sweep round yon Alpine height;
+    Nor knowest thou what argument
+    Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent.
+    All are needed by each one--
+    Nothing is fair or good alone.
+
+    I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,
+    Singing at dawn on the alder bough;
+    I brought him home in his nest, at even,
+    He sings the song, but it pleases not now;
+    For I did not bring home the river and sky;
+    He sang to my ear--they sang to my eye.
+
+    The delicate shells lay on the shore;
+    The bubbles of the latest wave
+    Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,
+    And the bellowing of the savage sea
+    Greeted their safe escape to me.
+    I wiped away the weeds and foam--
+    I fetch'd my sea-born treasures home;
+    But the poor unsightly, noisome things
+    Had left their beauty on the shore,
+    With the sun and the sand, and the wild uproar.
+
+    The lover watch'd his graceful maid,
+    As 'mid the virgin train she stray'd;
+    Nor knew her beauty's best attire
+    Was woven still by the snow-white choir.
+    At last she came to his hermitage,
+    Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;
+    The gay enchantment was undone--
+    A gentle wife, but fairy none.
+
+    Then I said, "I covet truth;
+    Beauty is unripe childhoods cheat--
+    I leave it behind with the games of youth."
+    As I spoke, beneath my feet
+    The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,
+    Running over the club-moss burrs;
+    I inhaled the violet's breath;
+    Around me stood the oaks and firs;
+    Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground;
+    Over me soar'd the eternal sky,
+    Full of light and of deity;
+    Again I saw, again I heard,
+    The rolling river, the morning bird;
+    Beauty through my senses stole--
+    I yielded myself to the perfect whole.
+
+
+
+
+LIX. WATERLOO.
+
+CHARLES JAMES LEVER.--1806-1872.
+
+_From_ CHARLES O'MALLEY.
+
+
+"This is the officer that I spoke of," said an aid-de-camp, as he rode
+up to where I was standing, bare-headed and without a sword. "He has
+just made his escape from the French lines, and will be able to give
+your lordship some information."
+
+The handsome features and gorgeous costume of Lord Uxbridge were known
+to me; but I was not aware, till afterwards, that a soldierlike,
+resolute looking officer beside him, was General Graham. It was the
+latter who first addressed me.
+
+"Are you aware, Sir," said he, "if Grouchy's force is arrived?"
+
+"They had not: on the contrary, shortly before I escaped, an aid-de-camp
+was despatched to Gembloux, to hasten his coming. And the troops, for
+they must be troops, debouching from the wood yonder--they seem to form
+a junction with the corps to the right--they are the Prussians. They
+arrived there before noon from St. Lambert, and are part of Buelow's
+corps. Count Loebau and his division of ten thousand men were despatched,
+about an hour since, to hold them in check."
+
+"This is great news," said Lord Uxbridge. "Fitzroy must know it at
+once."
+
+So saying he dashed spurs into his horse, and soon disappeared amid the
+crowd on the hill top.
+
+"You had better see the Duke, Sir," said Graham: "your information is
+too important to be delayed. Captain Calvert, let this officer have a
+horse; his own is too tired to go much further."
+
+"And a cap, I beg of you," added I, in an under tone; "for I have
+already found a sabre."
+
+By a slight circuitous route, we reached the road upon which a mass of
+dismounted artillery-carts, baggage-wagons, and tumbrils, were heaped
+together as a barricade against the attack of the French dragoons, who
+more than once had penetrated to the very crest of our position. Close
+to this, and on a little rising ground, from which a view of the entire
+field extended from Hougoumont to the far left, the Duke of Wellington
+stood, surrounded by his staff. His eye was bent upon the valley before
+him, where the advancing columns of Ney's attack still pressed onwards;
+while the fire of sixty great guns poured death and carnage into his
+lines. The second Belgian division, routed and broken, had fallen back
+upon the twenty-seventh regiment, who had merely time to throw
+themselves into square, when Milhaud's cuirassiers, armed with a
+terrible long straight sword, came sweeping down upon them. A line of
+impassable bayonets, a living _chevaux-de-frise_ of the best blood of
+Britain, stood firm and motionless before the shock: the French
+_mitraille_ played mercilessly on the ranks; but the chasms were filled
+up like magic, and in vain the bold horsemen of Gaul galloped round the
+bristling files. At length the word "fire!" was heard within the square,
+and as the bullets at pistol range rattled upon them, the cuirass
+afforded them no defence against the deadly volley. Men and horses
+rolled indiscriminately upon the earth: then would come a charge of our
+dashing squadrons, who, riding recklessly upon the foe, were, in their
+turn, to be repulsed by numbers, when fresh attacks would pour down upon
+our unshaken infantry.
+
+"That column yonder is wavering: why does he not bring up his
+supporting squadrons?" inquired the Duke, pointing to a Belgian regiment
+of light dragoons, who were formed in the same brigade with the seventh
+hussars.
+
+"He refuses to oppose his light cavalry to cuirassiers, my lord," said
+an aid-de-camp, who had just returned from the division in question.
+
+"Tell him to march his men off the ground," said the Duke, with a quiet
+and impassive tone.
+
+In less than ten minutes the regiment was seen to defile from the mass,
+and take the road to Brussels, to increase the panic of that city, by
+circulating and strengthening the report, that the English were
+beaten,--and Napoleon in full march upon the capital.
+
+"What's Ney's force? can you guess, Sir?" said Lord Wellington turning
+to me.
+
+"About twelve thousand men, my lord."
+
+"Are the Guard among them?"
+
+"No, Sir; the Guard are in reserve above La Belle Alliance."
+
+"In what part of the field is Buonaparte?"
+
+"Nearly opposite to where we stand."
+
+"I told you, gentlemen, Hougoumont never was the great attack. The
+battle must be decided here," pointing, as he spoke, to the plain
+beneath us, where still Ney poured on his devoted columns, where yet the
+French cavalry rode down upon our firm squares.
+
+As he spoke an aid-de-camp rode up from the valley.
+
+"The ninety-second requires support, my lord: they cannot maintain their
+positions half an hour longer, without it."
+
+"Have they given way, Sir?"
+
+"No----"
+
+"Well, then, they must stand where they are. I hear cannon towards the
+left; yonder, near Frischermont."
+
+At this moment the light cavalry swept past the base of the hill on
+which we stood, hotly followed by the French heavy cuirassier brigade.
+Three of our guns were taken; and the cheering of the French infantry,
+as they advanced to the charge, presaged their hope of victory.
+
+"Do it, then," said the Duke, in reply to some whispered question of
+Lord Uxbridge; and shortly after the heavy trot of advancing squadrons
+was heard behind.
+
+They were the Life Guards and the Blues, who, with the first Dragoon
+Guards and the Enniskilleners, were formed into close column.
+
+"I know the ground, my Lord," said I to Lord Uxbridge.
+
+"Come along, Sir, come along," said he, as he threw his hussar jacket
+loosely behind him, to give freedom to his sword-arm.--"Forward, my men,
+forward; but steady, hold your horses in hand; threes about, and
+together charge."
+
+"Charge!" he shouted; while, as the word flew from squadron to squadron,
+each horseman bent upon his saddle, and that mighty mass, as though
+instinct with but one spirit, dashed like a thunder-bolt upon the column
+beneath them. The French, blown and exhausted, inferior beside in weight
+both of man and horse, offered but a short resistance. As the tall corn
+bends beneath the sweeping hurricane, wave succeeding wave, so did the
+steel-clad squadrons of France fall before the nervous arm of Britain's
+cavalry. Onward they went, carrying death and ruin before them, and
+never stayed their course, until the guns were recaptured, and the
+cuirassiers, repulsed, disordered, and broken, had retired beneath the
+protection of their artillery.
+
+There was, as a brilliant and eloquent writer on the subject
+mentions, a terrible sameness in the whole of this battle. Incessant
+charges of cavalry upon the squares of our infantry, whose sole
+manoeuvre consisted in either deploying into line to resist the
+attack of infantry, or falling back into square when the cavalry
+advanced--performing those two evolutions under the devastating fire
+of artillery, before the unflinching heroism of that veteran infantry
+whose glories had been reaped upon the blood-stained fields of
+Austerlitz, Marengo, and Wagram--or opposing an unbroken front to the
+whirlwind swoop of infuriated cavalry;--such were the enduring and
+devoted services demanded from the English troops, and such they
+failed not to render. Once or twice had temper nearly failed them,
+and the cry ran through the ranks, "Are we never to move
+forward?--Only let us at them!" But the word was not yet spoken which
+was to undam the pent-up torrent, and bear down with unrelenting
+vengeance upon the now exulting columns of the enemy.
+
+It was six o'clock: the battle had continued with unchanged fortune for
+three hours. The French, masters of La Haye Sainte, could never advance
+further into our position. They had gained the orchard of Hougoumont,
+but the chateau was still held by the British Guards, although its
+blazing roof and crumbling walls made its occupation rather the
+desperate stand of unflinching valor than the maintenance of an
+important position. The smoke which hung upon the field rolled in slow
+and heavy masses back upon the French lines, and gradually discovered to
+our view the entire of the army. We quickly perceived that a change was
+taking place in their position. The troops which on their left
+stretched far beyond Hougoumont, were now moved nearer to the centre.
+The attack upon the chateau seemed less vigorously supported, while the
+oblique direction of their right wing, which, pivoting upon Planchenoit,
+opposed a face to the Prussians,--all denoted a change in their order of
+battle. It was now the hour when Napoleon was at last convinced that
+nothing but the carnage he could no longer support could destroy the
+unyielding ranks of British infantry; that although Hougoumont had been
+partially, La Haye Sainte, completely, won; that although upon the right
+the farm-houses Papelotte and La Haye were nearly surrounded by his
+troops, which with any other army must prove the forerunner of defeat:
+yet still the victory was beyond his grasp. The bold stratagems, whose
+success the experience of a life had proved, were here to be found
+powerless. The decisive manoeuvre of carrying one important point of
+the enemy's lines, of turning him upon the flank, or piercing him
+through the centre, were here found impracticable. He might launch his
+avalanche of grape-shot, he might pour down his crashing columns of
+cavalry, he might send forth the iron storm of his brave infantry; but,
+though death in every shape heralded their approach, still were others
+found to fill the fallen ranks, and feed with their heart's blood the
+unslaked thirst for slaughter. Well might the gallant leader of this
+gallant host, as he watched the reckless onslaught of the untiring
+enemy, and looked upon the unflinching few, who, bearing the proud badge
+of Britain, alone sustained the fight, well might he exclaim, "Night,
+or Bluecher!"
+
+It was now seven o'clock, when a dark mass was seen to form upon the
+heights above the French centre, and divide into three gigantic
+columns, of which the right occupied the Brussels road. These were the
+reserves, consisting of the Old and Young Guards, and amounting to
+twelve thousand--the _elite_ of the French army--reserved by the Emperor
+for a great _coup-de-main_. These veterans of a hundred battles had been
+stationed, from the beginning of the day, inactive spectators of the
+fight; their hour was now come, and, with a shout of "_Vive
+l'Empereur!_" which rose triumphantly over the din and crash of battle,
+they began their march. Meanwhile, aids-de-camp galloped along the
+lines, announcing the arrival of Grouchy, to reanimate the drooping
+spirits of the men; for, at last, a doubt of victory was breaking upon
+the minds of those who never before, in the most adverse hour of
+fortune, deemed _his_ star could set that led them on to glory.
+
+"They are coming: the attack will be made on the centre, my lord," said
+Lord Fitzroy Somerset, as he directed his glass upon the column.
+Scarcely had he spoke when the telescope fell from his hand, as his arm,
+shattered by a French bullet, fell motionless to his side.
+
+"I see it," was the cool reply of the Duke, as he ordered the Guards to
+deploy into line, and lie down behind the ridge, which now the French
+artillery had found the range of, and were laboring at with their guns.
+In front of them the fifty-second, seventy-first, and ninety-fifth were
+formed; the artillery, stationed above and partly upon the road, loaded
+with grape, and waited but the word to open.
+
+It was an awful, a dreadful moment: the Prussian cannon thundered on our
+left; but so desperate was the French resistance, they made but little
+progress: the dark columns of the Guard had now commenced the ascent,
+and the artillery ceased their fire as the bayonets of the grenadiers
+showed themselves upon the slope. Then began that tremendous cheer from
+right to left of our line which those who heard never can forget. It was
+the impatient, long-restrained burst of unslaked vengeance. With the
+instinct which valor teaches, they knew the hour of trial was come; and
+that wild cry flew from rank to rank, echoing from the blood-stained
+walls of Hougoumont to the far-off valley of La Papelotte. "They come!
+they come!" was the cry; and the shout of "_Vive l'Empereur!_" mingled
+with the outburst of the British line.
+
+Under an overwhelming shower of grape, to which succeeded a charge of
+cavalry of the Imperial Guard, the head of Ney's column fired its volley
+and advanced with the bayonet. The British artillery now opened at half
+range, and although the plunging fire scathed and devastated the dark
+ranks of the Guards, on they came,--Ney himself, on foot, at their head.
+Twice the leading division of that gallant column turned completely
+round, as the withering fire wasted and consumed them; but they were
+resolved to win.
+
+Already they had gained the crest of the hill, and the first line of the
+British were falling back before them. The artillery closes up; the
+flanking fire from the guns upon the road opens upon them; the head of
+their column breaks like a shell; the Duke seizes the moment, and
+advances on foot towards the ridge.
+
+"Up, Guards, and at them!" he cried.
+
+The hour of triumph and vengeance had arrived. In a moment the Guards
+were on their feet; one volley was poured in; the bayonets were brought
+to the charge; they closed upon the enemy: then was seen the most
+dreadful struggle that the history of all war can present. Furious with
+long restrained passion, the guards rushed upon the leading divisions;
+the seventy-first, and ninety-fifth, and twenty-sixth overlapped them on
+the flanks. Their generals fell thickly on every side; Michel, Jamier,
+and Mallet are killed: Friant lies wounded upon the ground; Ney, his
+dress pierced and ragged with balls, shouts still to advance; but the
+leading files waver; they fall back; the supporting divisions thicken;
+confusion, panic succeeds; the British press down; the cavalry come
+galloping up to their assistance; and, at last, pell-mell, overwhelmed
+and beaten, the French fall back upon the Old Guard. This was the
+decisive moment of the day;--the Duke closed his glass, as he said:
+
+"The field is won. Order the whole line to advance."
+
+On they came, four deep, and poured like a torrent from the height.
+
+"Let the Life Guards charge them," said the Duke; but every aid-de-camp
+on his staff was wounded, and I myself brought the order to Lord
+Uxbridge.
+
+Lord Uxbridge had already anticipated his orders, and bore down with
+four regiments of heavy cavalry upon the French centre. The Prussian
+artillery thundered upon their flank, and at their rear. The British
+bayonet was in their front; while a panic fear spread through their
+ranks, and the cry "_Sauve qui peut!_" resounded on all sides. In vain
+Ney, the bravest of the brave; in vain Soult, Bertrand, Gourgaud, and
+Labedoyere, burst from the broken disorganized mass, and called on them
+to stand fast. A battalion of the Old Guard, with Cambronne at their
+head, alone obeyed the summons: forming into square, they stood between
+the pursuers and their prey, offering themselves a sacrifice to the
+tarnished honor of their arms: to the order to surrender, they answered
+with a cry of defiance; and, as our cavalry, flushed and elated with
+victory, rode round their bristling ranks, no quailing look, no craven
+spirit was there. The Emperor himself endeavored to repair the disaster;
+he rode with lightening speed hither and thither, commanding, ordering,
+nay imploring too; but already the night was falling, the confusion
+became each moment more inextricable, and the effort was a fruitless
+one. A regiment of the Guards, and two batteries were in reserve behind
+Planchenoit; he threw them rapidly into position; but the overwhelming
+impulse of flight drove the mass upon them, and they were carried away
+upon the torrent of the beaten army. No sooner did the Emperor see this
+his last hope desert him, than he dismounted from his horse, and,
+drawing his sword, threw himself into a square, which the first regiment
+of chasseurs of the Old Guard had formed with a remnant of the
+battalion; Jerome followed him, as he called out:
+
+"You are right, brother: here should perish all who bear the name of
+Buonaparte."
+
+The same moment the Prussian light artillery rend the ranks asunder, and
+the cavalry charge down upon the scattered fragments. A few of his
+staff, who never left him, place the Emperor upon a horse,--and fly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+          _Wellington,
+    Thy great work is but begun!
+    With quick seed his end is rife
+    Whose long tale of conquering strife
+    Shows no triumph like his life
+          Lost and won._
+
+        DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.--1828-1882.
+            _On Wellington's Funeral, Nov. 18th, 1852._
+
+
+
+
+LX. THE DIVER.
+
+EDWARD BULWER, LORD LYTTON.--1805-1873.
+
+_Translated from the German of Schiller_.
+
+
+    "O where is the knight or the squire so bold
+      As to dive to the howling Charybdis below?--
+    I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold,
+      And o'er it already the dark waters flow;
+    Whoever to me may the goblet bring,
+    Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king."
+
+    He spoke, and the cup from the terrible steep,
+      That, rugged and hoary, hung over the verge
+    Of the endless and measureless world of the deep,
+      Swirl'd into the maelstrom that madden'd the surge.
+    "And where is the diver so stout to go--
+    I ask ye again--to the deep below?"
+
+    And the knights and the squires that gather'd around,
+      Stood silent--and fix'd on the ocean their eyes;
+    They look'd on the dismal and savage profound,
+      And the peril chill'd back every thought of the prize.
+    And thrice spoke the monarch: "The cup to win,
+    Is there never a wight who will venture in?"
+
+    And all as before heard in silence the king,
+      Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle,
+    'Mid the tremulous squires stepp'd out from the ring,
+      Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle;
+    And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder,
+    On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder.
+
+    As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave
+      One glance on the gulf of that merciless main,
+    Lo! the wave that for ever devours the wave,
+      Casts roaringly up the Charybdis again:
+    And, as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,
+    Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom.
+
+    And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,
+      As when fire is with water commix'd and contending,
+    And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,
+      And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending;
+    And it never _will_ rest, nor from travail be free,
+    Like a sea that is laboring the birth of a sea.
+
+    Yet, at length, comes a lull o'er the mighty commotion,
+      And dark through the whiteness, and still through the swell,
+    The whirlpool cleaves downward and downward in ocean
+      A yawning abyss, like the pathway to hell;
+    The stiller and darker the farther it goes,
+    Suck'd into that smoothness the breakers repose.
+
+    The youth gave his trust to his Maker! Before
+      That path through the riven abyss closed again,
+    Hark! a shriek from the gazers that circle the shore,--
+      And, behold! he is whirl'd in the grasp of the main!
+    And o'er him the breakers mysteriously roll'd,
+    And the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold.
+
+    All was still on the height, save the murmur that went
+      From the grave of the deep, sounding hollow and fell,
+    Or save when the tremulous, sighing lament
+      Thrill'd from lip unto lip, "Gallant youth, fare thee well!"
+    More hollow and more wails the deep on the ear,--
+    More dread and more dread grows suspense in its fear.
+
+    --If thou shouldst in those waters thy diadem fling,
+      And cry, "Who may find it shall win it and wear";
+    God wot, though the prize were the crown of a king,
+      A crown at such hazard were valued too dear.
+    For never shall lips of the living reveal
+    What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal.
+
+    Oh, many a bark, to that breast grappled fast,
+      Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave;
+    Again, crash'd together the keel and the mast,
+      To be seen toss'd aloft in the glee of the wave!--
+    Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer,
+    Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer.
+
+    And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,
+      As when fire is with water commix'd and contending;
+    And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,
+      And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending,
+    And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,
+    Rushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom.
+
+    And, lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom,
+      Like the wing of the cygnet--what gleams on the sea?
+    Lo! an arm and a neck glancing up from the tomb!
+      Steering stalwart and shoreward: O joy, it is he!
+    The left hand is lifted in triumph; behold,
+    It waves as a trophy the goblet of gold!
+
+    And he breathed deep, and he breathed long,
+      And he greeted the heavenly light of the day.
+    They gaze on each other,--they shout as they throng,
+      "He lives--lo, the ocean has render'd its prey!
+    And safe from the whirlpool, and free from the grave,
+    Comes back to the daylight the soul of the brave!"
+
+    And he comes, with the crowd in their clamor and glee;
+      And the goblet his daring has won from the water
+    He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee
+      And the king from her maidens has beckon'd his daughter.
+    She pours to the boy the bright wine which they bring,
+    And thus spoke the diver; "Long life to the King!
+
+    "Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice,
+      The air and the sky that to mortals are given!
+    May the horror below nevermore find a voice,--
+      Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven!
+    Nevermore,--nevermore may he lift from the sight
+    The veil which is woven with terror and night!
+
+    "Quick brightening like lightning the ocean rush'd o'er me,
+      Wild floating, borne down fathom-deep from the day;
+    Till a torrent rush'd out on the torrents that bore me,
+      And doubled the tempest that whirl'd me away.
+    Vain, vain was my struggle,--the circle had won me,
+    Round and round in its dance the mad element spun me.
+
+    "From the deep then I call'd upon God, and He heard me;
+      In the dread of my need, He vouchsafed to mine eye
+    A rock jutting out from the grave that interr'd me;
+      I sprung there, I clung there,--and death pass'd me by.
+    And, lo! where the goblet gleam'd through the abyss,
+    By a coral reef saved from the far Fathomless.
+
+    "Below, at the foot of that precipice drear,
+      Spread the gloomy and purple and pathless Obscure!
+    A silence of horror that slept on the ear,
+      That the eye more appall'd might the horror endure;
+    Salamander, snake, dragon--vast reptiles that dwell
+    In the deep--coil'd about the grim jaws of their hell.
+
+    "Dark crawl'd, glided dark, the unspeakable swarms,
+      Clump'd together in masses, misshapen and vast;
+    Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms;
+      Here the dark-moving bulk of the hammer-fish pass'd;
+    And, with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion,
+    Went the terrible shark,--the hyena of ocean.
+
+    "There I hung, and the awe gather'd icily o'er me,
+      So far from the earth, where man's help there was none!
+    The one human thing, with the goblins before me--
+      Alone--in a loneness so ghastly--ALONE!
+    Deep under the reach of the sweet living breath,
+    And begirt with the broods of the desert of Death.
+
+    "Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now
+      IT saw--a dread hundred-limb'd creature--its prey!
+    And darted, devouring; I sprang from the bough
+      Of the coral, and swept on the horrible way;
+    And the whirl of the mighty wave seized me once more,
+    It seized me to save me, and dash to the shore."
+
+    On the youth gazed the monarch, and marvell'd: quoth he,
+      "Bold diver, the goblet I promised is thine;
+    And this ring I will give, a fresh guerdon to thee--
+      Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine--
+    If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again,
+    To say what lies hid in the _innermost_ main."
+
+    Then out spake the daughter in tender emotion:
+      "Ah! father, my father, what more can there rest?
+    Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean:
+      He has serv'd thee as none would, thyself hast confest.
+    If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire,
+    Let thy knights put to shame the exploit of the squire!"
+
+    The king seized the goblet, he swung it on high,
+      And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide;
+    "But bring back that goblet again to my eye,
+      And I'll hold thee the dearest that rides by my side;
+    And thine arms shall embrace as thy bride, I decree,
+    The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee."
+
+    And Heaven, as he listen'd, spoke out from the space,
+      And the hope that makes heroes shot flame from his eyes;
+    He gazed on the blush in that beautiful face--
+      It pales--at the feet of her father she lies!
+    How priceless the guerdon!--a moment--a breath--
+    And headlong he plunges to life and to death!
+
+    They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell,
+      Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along!
+    Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell.
+      They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng,
+    Roaring up to the cliff,--roaring back as before,
+    But no wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore!
+
+
+
+
+LXI. THE PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS.
+
+CARDINAL NEWMAN.--1801-
+
+_From_ CALLISTA.
+
+
+Juba's finger was directed to a spot where, amid the thick foliage, the
+gleam of a pool or of a marsh was visible. The various waters round
+about, issuing from the gravel, or drained from the nightly damps, had
+run into a hollow, filled with the decaying vegetation of former years.
+Its banks were bordered with a deep, broad layer of mud, a transition
+substance between the rich vegetable matter which it once had been, and
+the multitudinous world of insect life which it was becoming. A cloud or
+mist at this time was hanging over it, high in air. A harsh and shrill
+sound, a whizzing or a chirping, proceeded from that cloud to the ear of
+the attentive listener. What these indications portended was plain....
+
+The plague of locusts, one of the most awful visitations to which the
+countries included in the Roman empire were exposed, extended from the
+Atlantic to Ethiopia, from Arabia to India, and from the Nile and Red
+Sea to Greece and the north of Asia Minor. Instances are recorded in
+history of clouds of the devastating insect crossing the Black Sea to
+Poland, and the Mediterranean to Lombardy. It is as numerous in its
+species as it is wide in its range of territory. Brood follows brood,
+with a sort of family likeness, yet with distinct attributes. It wakens
+into existence and activity as early as the month of March; but
+instances are not wanting, as in our present history, of its appearance
+as late as June. Even one flight comprises myriads upon myriads passing
+imagination, to which the drops of rain or the sands of the sea are the
+only fit comparison; and hence it is almost a proverbial mode of
+expression in the East, by way of describing a vast invading army, to
+liken it to the locusts. So dense are they, when upon the wing, that it
+is no exaggeration to say that they hide the sun, from which
+circumstance indeed their name in Arabic is derived. And so ubiquitous
+are they when they have alighted on the earth, that they simply cover or
+clothe its surface.
+
+This last characteristic is stated in the sacred account of the plagues
+of Egypt, where their faculty of devastation is also mentioned. The
+corrupting fly and the bruising and prostrating hail preceded them in
+that series of visitations, but _they_ came to do the work of ruin more
+thoroughly. For not only the crops and fruits, but the foliage of the
+forest itself, nay, the small twigs and the bark of the trees are the
+victims of their curious and energetic rapacity. They have been known
+even to gnaw the door-posts of the houses. Nor do they execute their
+task in so slovenly a way, that, as they have succeeded other plagues,
+so they may have successors themselves. They take pains to spoil what
+they leave. Like the Harpies, they smear every thing that they touch
+with a miserable slime, which has the effect of a virus in corroding, or
+as some say, in scorching and burning. And then, perhaps, as if all this
+were little, when they can do nothing else, they die; as if out of sheer
+malevolence to man, for the poisonous elements of their nature are then
+let loose and dispersed abroad, and create a pestilence; and they manage
+to destroy many more by their death than in their life.
+
+Such are the locusts. And now they are rushing upon a considerable tract
+of that beautiful region of which we have spoken with such admiration.
+The swarm to which Juba pointed grew and grew till it became a compact
+body, as much as a furlong square; yet it was but the vanguard of a
+series of similar hosts, formed one after another out of the hot mould
+or sand, rising into the air like clouds, enlarging into a dusky canopy,
+and then discharged against the fruitful plain. At length the huge
+innumerous mass was put into motion, and began its career, darkening the
+face of day. As became an instrument of divine power, it seemed to have
+no volition of its own; it was set off, it drifted, with the wind, and
+thus made northwards, straight for Sicca. Thus they advanced, host after
+host, for a time wafted on the air, and gradually declining to the
+earth, while fresh broods were carried over the first, and neared the
+earth, after a longer flight, in their turn. For twelve miles did they
+extend from front to rear, and their whizzing and hissing could be heard
+for six miles on every side of them. The bright sun, though hidden by
+them, illumined their bodies, and was reflected from their quivering
+wings; and as they heavily fell earthward, they seemed like the
+innumerable flakes of a yellow-colored snow. And like snow did they
+descend, a living carpet, or rather pall, upon fields, crops, gardens,
+copses, groves, orchards, vineyards, olive woods, orangeries, palm
+plantations, and the deep forests, sparing nothing within their reach,
+and where there was nothing to devour, lying helpless in drifts, or
+crawling forward obstinately, as they best might, with the hope of prey.
+They could spare their hundred thousand soldiers twice or thrice over,
+and not miss them; their masses filled the bottoms of the ravines and
+hollow ways, impeding the traveller as he rode forward on his journey
+and trampled by thousands under his horse-hoofs. In vain was all this
+overthrow and waste by the roadside, in vain their loss in river, pool,
+and watercourse. The poor peasants hastily dug pits and trenches as
+their enemy came on; in vain they filled them from the wells or with
+lighted stubble. Heavily and thickly did the locusts fall; they were
+lavish of their lives; they choked the flame and the water, which
+destroyed them the while, and the vast living hostile armament still
+moved on.
+
+They moved right on like soldiers in their ranks, stopping at nothing,
+and straggling for nothing; they carried a broad furrow or wheal all
+across the country, black and loathsome, while it was as green and
+smiling on each side of them and in front, as it had been before they
+came. Before them, in the language of prophets, was a paradise, and
+behind them a desert. They are daunted by nothing they surmount walls
+and hedges, and enter enclosed gardens or inhabited houses. A rare and
+experimental vineyard has been planted in a sheltered grove. The high
+winds of Africa will not commonly allow the light trellice or the slim
+pole; but here the lofty poplar of Campania has been possible, on which
+the vine plant mounts so many yards into the air, that the poor
+grape-gatherers bargain for a funeral pile and a tomb as one of the
+conditions of their engagement. The locusts have done what the winds and
+lightning could not do, and the whole promise of the vintage, leaves and
+all, is gone, and the slender stems are left bare. There is another
+yard, less uncommon, but still tended with more than common care; each
+plant is kept within due bounds by a circular trench round it, and by
+upright canes on which it is to trail; in an hour the solicitude and
+long toil of the vine-dresser are lost, and his pride humbled. There is
+a smiling farm; another sort of vine, of remarkable character, is found
+against the farmhouse. This vine springs from one root, and has clothed
+and matted with its many branches the four walls. The whole of it is
+covered thick with long clusters, which another month will ripen. On
+every grape and leaf there is a locust. Into the dry caves and pits,
+carefully strewed with straw, the harvest-men have (safely, as they
+thought just now) been lodging the far-famed African wheat. One grain or
+root shoots up into ten, twenty, fifty, eighty, nay, three or four
+hundred stalks: sometimes the stalks have two ears apiece, and these
+shoot into a number of lesser ones. These stores are intended for the
+Roman populace, but the locusts have been beforehand with them. The
+small patches of ground belonging to the poor peasants up and down the
+country, for raising the turnips, garlic, barley, water-melons, on which
+they live, are the prey of these glutton invaders as much as the
+choicest vines and olives. Nor have they any reverence for the villa of
+the civic decurion or the Roman official. The neatly arranged kitchen
+garden, with its cherries, plums, peaches, and apricots, is a waste; as
+the slaves sit round, in the kitchen in the first court, at their coarse
+evening meal, the room is filled with the invading force, and news comes
+to them that the enemy has fallen upon the apples and pears in the
+basement, and is at the same time plundering and sacking the preserves
+of quince and pomegranate, and revelling in the jars of precious oil of
+Cyprus and Mendes in the store-rooms.
+
+They come up to the walls of Sicca, and are flung against them into the
+ditch. Not a moment's hesitation or delay; they recover their footing,
+they climb up the wood or stucco, they surmount the parapet, or they
+have entered in at the windows, filling the apartments, and the most
+private and luxurious chambers, not one or two, like stragglers at
+forage or rioters after a victory, but in order of battle, and with the
+array of an army. Choice plants or flowers about the _impluvia_ and
+_xysti_, for ornament or refreshment, myrtles, oranges, pomegranates,
+the rose and the carnation, have disappeared. They dim the bright
+marbles of the walls and the gilding of the ceilings. They enter the
+triclinium in the midst of the banquet; they crawl over the viands and
+spoil what they do not devour. Unrelaxed by success and by enjoyment,
+onward they go; a secret mysterious instinct keeps them together, as if
+they had a king over them. They move along the floor in so strange an
+order that they seem to be a tessellated pavement themselves, and to be
+the artificial embellishment of the place; so true are their lines, and
+so perfect is the pattern they describe. Onward they go, to the market,
+to the temple sacrifices, to the bakers' stores, to the cookshops, to
+the confectioners, to the druggists; nothing comes amiss to them;
+wherever man has aught to eat or drink, there are they, reckless of
+death, strong of appetite, certain of conquest....
+
+Another and a still worse calamity. The invaders, as we have already
+hinted, could be more terrible still in their overthrow than in their
+ravages. The inhabitants of the country had attempted, where they could,
+to destroy them by fire and water. It would seem as if the malignant
+animals had resolved that the sufferers should have the benefit of this
+policy to the full; for they had not got more than twenty miles beyond
+Sicca when they suddenly sickened and died. When they thus had done all
+the mischief they could by their living, when they thus had made their
+foul maws the grave of every living thing, next they died themselves,
+and made the desolated land their own grave. They took from it its
+hundred forms and varieties of beautiful life, and left it their own
+fetid and poisonous carcases in payment. It was a sudden catastrophe;
+they seemed making for the Mediterranean, as if, like other great
+conquerors, they had other worlds to subdue beyond it; but, whether they
+were overgorged, or struck by some atmospheric change, or that their
+time was come and they paid the debt of nature, so it was that suddenly
+they fell, and their glory came to nought, and all was vanity to them as
+to others, and "their stench rose up, and their corruption rose up,
+because they had done proudly."
+
+The hideous swarms lay dead in the moist steaming underwoods, in the
+green swamps, in the sheltered valleys, in the ditches and furrows of
+the fields, amid the monuments of their own prowess, the ruined crops
+and the dishonored vineyards. A poisonous element, issuing from their
+remains, mingled with the atmosphere, and corrupted it. The dismayed
+peasant found that a plague had begun; a new visitation, not confined to
+the territory which the enemy had made its own, but extending far and
+wide, as the atmosphere extends, in all directions. Their daily toil, no
+longer claimed by the fruits of the earth, which have ceased to exist,
+is now devoted to the object of ridding themselves of the deadly legacy
+which they have received in their stead. In vain; it is their last toil;
+they are digging pits, they are raising piles, for their own corpses, as
+well as for the bodies of their enemies. Invader and victim lie in the
+same grave, burn in the same heap; they sicken while they work, and the
+pestilence spreads.
+
+
+
+
+LXII. THE CANE-BOTTOM'D CHAIR.
+
+WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.--1811-1863.
+
+
+    In tatter'd old slippers that toast at the bars,
+    And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,
+    Away from the world and its toils and its cares,
+    I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.
+
+    To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure,
+    But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure;
+    And the view I behold on a sunshiny day
+    Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way.
+
+    This snug little chamber is cramm'd in all nooks
+    With worthless old knicknacks and silly old books,
+    And foolish old odds and foolish old ends,
+    Crack'd bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends.
+
+    Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china, (all crack'd,)
+    Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-back'd;
+    A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see;
+    What matter? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me.
+
+    No better divan need the Sultan require,
+    Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire;
+    And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get
+    From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet.
+
+    That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp;
+    By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp;
+    A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn:
+    'Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon.
+
+    Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes,
+    Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times;
+    As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie
+    This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me.
+
+    But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest,
+    There's one that I love and I cherish the best;
+    For the finest of couches that's padded with hair
+    I never would change thee, my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    'Tis a bandy-legg'd, high-shoulder'd, worm-eaten seat,
+    With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet;
+    But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there,
+    I bless thee, and love thee, old cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms,
+    A thrill must have pass'd through your wither'd old arms!
+    I look'd, and I long'd, and I wish'd in despair;
+    I wish'd myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    It was but a moment she sat in this place,
+    She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face!
+    A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair,
+    And she sat there, and bloom'd in my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    And so I have valued my chair ever since,
+    Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince;
+    Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare,
+    The queen of my heart and my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    When the candles burn low, and the company's gone,
+    In the silence of night as I sit here alone--
+    I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair--
+    My Fanny I see in my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+    She comes from the past and revisits my room;
+    She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom;
+    So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair,
+    And yonder she sits in my cane-bottom'd chair.
+
+
+
+
+LXIII. THE RECONCILIATION.[N]
+
+THACKERAY.
+
+
+There was scarce a score of persons in the Cathedral beside the Dean and
+some of his clergy, and the choristers, young and old, that performed
+the beautiful evening prayer. But Mr. Tusher was one of the officiants,
+and read from the eagle in an authoritative voice, and a great black
+periwig; and in the stalls, still in her black widow's hood, sat
+Esmond's dear mistress, her son by her side, very much grown, and indeed
+a noble-looking youth, with his mother's eyes, and his father's curling
+brown hair, that fell over his _point de Venise_--a pretty picture such
+as Vandyke might have painted. Mons. Rigaud's portrait of my Lord
+Viscount, done at Paris afterwards, gives but a French version of his
+manly, frank English face. When he looked up there were two sapphire
+beams out of his eyes such as no painter's palette has the color to
+match, I think. On this day there was not much chance of seeing that
+particular beauty of my young lord's countenance; for the truth is, he
+kept his eyes shut for the most part, and, the anthem being rather long,
+was asleep.
+
+But the music ceasing, my lord woke up, looking about him, and his eyes
+lighting on Mr. Esmond, who was sitting opposite him, gazing with no
+small tenderness and melancholy upon two persons who had so much of his
+heart for so many years, Lord Castlewood, with a start; pulled at his
+mother's sleeve (her face had scarce been lifted from her book), and
+said, "Look, mother!" so loud, that Esmond could hear on the other side
+of the church, and the old Dean on his throned stall. Lady Castlewood
+looked for an instant as her son bade her, and held up a warning finger
+to Frank; Esmond felt his whole face flush, and his heart throbbing, as
+that dear lady beheld him once more. The rest of the prayers were
+speedily over; Mr. Esmond did not hear them; nor did his mistress, very
+likely, whose hood went more closely over her face, and who never lifted
+her head again until the service was over, the blessing given, and Mr.
+Dean, and his procession of ecclesiastics, out of the inner chapel.
+
+Young Castlewood came clambering over the stalls before the clergy were
+fairly gone, and running up to Esmond, eagerly embraced him. "My dear,
+dearest old Harry!" he said, "are you come back? Have you been to the
+wars? You'll take me with you when you go again? Why didn't you write to
+us? Come to mother."
+
+Mr. Esmond could hardly say more than a "God bless you, my boy," for his
+heart was very full and grateful at all this tenderness on the lad's
+part; and he was as much moved at seeing Frank as he was fearful about
+that other interview which was now to take place: for he knew not if the
+widow would reject him as she had done so cruelly a year ago.
+
+"It was kind of you to come back to us, Henry," Lady Esmond said. "I
+thought you might come."
+
+"We read of the fleet coming to Portsmouth. Why did you not come from
+Portsmouth?" Frank asked, or my Lord Viscount, as he now must be called.
+
+Esmond had thought of that too. He would have given one of his eyes so
+that he might see his dear friends again once more; but believing that
+his mistress had forbidden him her house, he had obeyed her, and
+remained at a distance.
+
+"You had but to ask, and you knew I would be here," he said.
+
+She gave him her hand, her little fair hand: there was only her marriage
+ring on it. The quarrel was all over. The year of grief and estrangement
+was passed. They never had been separated. His mistress had never been
+out of his mind all that time. No, not once. No, not in the prison; nor
+in the camp; nor on shore before the enemy; nor at sea under the stars
+of solemn midnight; nor as he watched the glorious rising of the dawn:
+not even at the table, where he sat carousing with friends, or at the
+theatre yonder, where he tried to fancy that other eyes were brighter
+than hers. Brighter eyes there might be, and faces more beautiful, but
+none so dear--no voice so sweet as that of his beloved mistress, who had
+been sister, mother, goddess to him during his youth--goddess now no
+more, for he knew of her weaknesses; and by thought, by suffering, and
+that experience it brings, was older now than she; but more fondly
+cherished as woman perhaps than ever she had been adored as divinity.
+What is it? Where lies it? the secret which makes one little hand the
+dearest of all? Who ever can unriddle that mystery? Here she was, her
+son by his side, his dear boy. Here she was, weeping and happy. She took
+his hand in both hers; he felt her tears. It was a rapture of
+reconciliation....
+
+"And Harry's coming home to supper. Huzzay! huzzay!" cries my lord.
+"Mother, I shall run home and bid Beatrix put her ribbons on. Beatrix is
+a maid of honor, Harry. Such a fine set-up minx!"
+
+"Your heart was never in the Church, Harry," the widow said, in her
+sweet low tone, as they walked away together. (Now, it seemed they had
+never been parted, and again, as if they had been ages asunder.) "I
+always thought you had no vocation that way; and that 'twas a pity to
+shut you out from the world. You would but have pined and chafed at
+Castlewood: and 'tis better you should make a name for yourself. I often
+said so to my dear lord. How he loved you! 'Twas my lord that made you
+stay with us."
+
+"I asked no better than to stay near you always," said Mr. Esmond.
+
+"But to go was best, Harry. When the world cannot give peace, you will
+know where to find it; but one of your strong imagination and eager
+desires must try the world first before he tires of it. 'Twas not to be
+thought of, or if it once was, it was only by my selfishness, that you
+should remain as chaplain to a country gentleman and tutor to a little
+boy. You are of the blood of the Esmonds, kinsman; and that was always
+wild in youth. Look at Francis. He is but fifteen, and I scarce can keep
+him in my nest. His talk is all of war and pleasure, and he longs to
+serve in the next campaign. Perhaps he and the young Lord Churchill
+shall go the next. Lord Marlborough has been good to us. You know how
+kind they were in my misfortune. And so was your--your father's widow.
+No one knows how good the world is, till grief comes to try us. 'Tis
+through my Lady Marlborough's goodness that Beatrix hath her place at
+Court; and Frank is under my Lord Chamberlain. And the dowager lady,
+your father's widow, has promised to provide for you--has she not?"
+
+Esmond said, "Yes. As far as present favor went, Lady Castlewood was
+very good to him. And should her mind change," he added gaily, "as
+ladies' minds will, I am strong enough to bear my own burden, and make
+my way somehow. Not by the sword very likely. Thousands have a better
+genius for that than I, but there are many ways in which a young man of
+good parts and education can get on in the world; and I am pretty sure,
+one way or other, of promotion!" Indeed, he had found patrons already
+in the army, and amongst persons very able to serve him, too; and told
+his mistress of the flattering aspect of fortune. They walked as though
+they had never been parted, slowly, with the grey twilight closing
+round them.
+
+"And now we are drawing near to home," she continued, "I knew you would
+come, Harry, if--if it was but to forgive me for having spoken unjustly
+to you after that horrid--horrid misfortune. I was half frantic with
+grief then when I saw you. And I know now--they have told me. That
+wretch, whose name I can never mention, even has said it: how you tried
+to avert the quarrel, and would have taken it on yourself, my poor
+child: but it was God's will that I should be punished, and that my dear
+lord should fall."
+
+"He gave me his blessing on his death-bed," Esmond said. "Thank God for
+that legacy!"
+
+"Amen, amen! dear Henry," said the lady, pressing his arm. "I knew it.
+Mr. Atterbury, of St. Bride's, who was called to him, told me so. And I
+thanked God, too, and in my prayers ever since remembered it."
+
+"You had spared me many a bitter night, had you told me sooner," Mr.
+Esmond said.
+
+"I know it, I know it," she answered, in a tone of such sweet humility,
+as made Esmond repent that he should ever have dared to reproach her. "I
+know how wicked my heart has been; and I have suffered too, my dear.
+But I knew you would come back--I own that. And to-day, Henry, in the
+anthem, when they sang it, 'When the Lord turned the captivity of Zion,
+we were like them that dream,' I thought yes, like them that dream--them
+that dream. And then it went, 'They that sow in tears shall reap in joy;
+and he that goeth forth and weepeth, shall doubtless come again with
+rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him;' I looked up from the book and
+saw you. I was not surprised when I saw you. I knew you would come, my
+dear, and saw the gold sunshine round your head."
+
+She smiled an almost wild smile as she looked up at him. The moon was up
+by this time, glittering keen in the frosty sky. He could see, for the
+first time now clearly, her sweet careworn face.
+
+"Do you know what day it is?" she continued. "It is the 29th day of
+December--it is your birthday! But last year we did not drink it--no,
+no. My lord was cold, and my Harry was likely to die: and my brain
+was in a fever; and we had no wine. But now--now you are come again,
+bringing your sheaves with you, my dear." She burst into a wild flood
+of weeping as she spoke; she laughed and sobbed on the young man's
+heart, crying out wildly, "bringing your sheaves with you--your sheaves
+with you!"
+
+As he had sometimes felt, gazing up from the deck at midnight into the
+boundless starlit depths overhead, in a rapture of devout wonder at
+that endless brightness and beauty--in some such a way now, the depth
+of this pure devotion quite smote upon him, and filled his heart with
+thanksgiving. Gracious God, who was he, weak and friendless creature,
+that such a love should be poured out upon him? Not in vain--not in
+vain has he lived--hard and thankless should he be to think so--that
+has such a treasure given him. What is ambition compared to that, but
+selfish vanity? To be rich, to be famous? What do these profit a year
+hence, when other names sound louder than yours, when you lie hidden
+away under the ground, along with idle titles engraven on your coffin?
+But only true love lives after you--follows your memory with secret
+blessing--or precedes you, and intercedes for you. _Non omnis
+moriar_--if dying, I yet live in a tender heart or two; nor am lost
+and hopeless living, if a sainted departed soul still loves and prays
+for me.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[N] _From "The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., a Colonel in the
+Service of Her Majesty Queen Anne. Written by himself."_
+
+The late Lord Castlewood had been killed in a duel, and young Esmond,
+who had lived in his house as a dependant (reputed to have been
+illegitimately related to a former Viscount of Castlewood), devotedly
+attending him at his death-bed, received from the dying man
+confession and proof that he, the supposed obscure orphan, was the
+true inheritor, and in justice ought to have been the possessor, of
+the Castlewood titles and estates. But Esmond, for the love he had
+borne his patron, and from devotion to Lady Castlewood, who had much
+befriended him, immediately destroyed the proofs which were given him
+of his honorable parentage, and ever afterwards kept his claim a
+secret. After the duel, while Esmond was in prison, Lady Castlewood
+visited him, and in the wildness of her grief for her murdered
+husband, reproached her loyal kinsman for not having saved her lord's
+life, or avenged his death. In the estrangement which these
+reproaches occasioned, Esmond sought his fortune abroad in war; but
+subsequently, desiring to learn of the welfare of his mistress and
+her family, whose happiness he prized more than his own, he returned
+to England, and went to Winchester, near which was Walcote, Lady
+Castlewood's home. The family were attending service in the
+cathedral, and there the reconciliation took place.--Esmond had
+formerly been promised the living of Walcote, but the vacancy
+occurring while the estrangement continued. Lady Castlewood had given
+it to one Mr. Tusher.
+
+
+
+
+LXIV. THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.
+
+(DECEMBER, 1697.)
+
+WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN.--1813-1865.
+
+
+    The Rhine is running deep and red, the island lies before,--
+    "Now is there one of all the host will dare to venture o'er?
+    For not alone the river's sweep might make a brave man quail;
+    The foe are on the further side, their shot comes fast as hail.
+    God help us, if the middle isle we may not hope to win!
+    Now is there any of the host will dare to venture in?"
+
+    "The ford is deep, the banks are steep, the island-shore lies wide;
+    Nor man nor horse could stem its force, or reach the further side.
+    See there! amidst the willow-boughs the serried bayonets gleam;
+    They've flung their bridge,--they've won the isle; the foe have
+              cross'd the stream!
+    Their volley flashes sharp and strong,--by all the saints! I trow
+    There never yet was soldier born could force that passage now!"
+
+    So spoke the bold French Mareschal with him who led the van,
+    Whilst rough and red before their view the turbid river ran.
+    Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross the wild and swollen Rhine,
+    And thundering on the other bank far stretch'd the German line.
+    Hard by there stood a swarthy man was leaning on his sword,
+    And a sadden'd smile lit up his face as he heard the Captain's word.
+    "I've seen a wilder stream ere now than that which rushes there;
+    I've stemm'd a heavier torrent yet and never thought to dare.
+    If German steel be sharp and keen, is ours not strong and true?
+    There may be danger in the deed, but there is honor too."
+
+    The old lord in his saddle turn'd, and hastily he said,
+    "Hath bold Duguesclin's fiery heart awaken'd from the dead?
+    Thou art the leader of the Scots,--now well and sure I know,
+    That gentle blood in dangerous hour ne'er yet ran cold nor slow,
+    And I have seen ye in the fight do all that mortal may:
+    If honor is the boon ye seek, it may be won this day,--
+    The prize is in the middle isle, there lies the adventurous way,
+    And armies twain are on the plain, the daring deed to see,--
+    Now ask thy gallant company if they will follow thee!"
+
+    Right gladsome look'd the Captain then, and nothing did he say,
+    But he turn'd him to his little band,--O, few, I ween, were they!
+    The relics of the bravest force that ever fought in fray.
+    No one of all that company but bore a gentle name,
+    Not one whose fathers had not stood in Scotland's fields of fame.
+    All they had march'd with great Dundee to where he fought and fell,
+    And in the deadly battle-strife had venged their leader well:
+    And they had bent the knee to earth when every eye was dim,
+    As o'er their hero's buried corpse they sang the funeral hymn;
+    And they had trod the Pass once more, and stoop'd on either side
+    To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropp'd and died;
+    And they had bound it next their hearts, and ta'en a last farewell
+    Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, where Scotland's glory fell.
+    Then went they forth to foreign lands like bent and broken men,
+    Who leave their dearest hope behind, and may not turn again.
+
+    "The stream," he said, "is broad and deep, and stubborn is
+              the foe,--
+    Yon island-strength is guarded well,--say, brothers, will ye go?
+    From home and kin for many a year our steps have wander'd wide,
+    And never may our bones be laid our fathers' graves beside.
+    No children have we to lament, no wives to wail our fall;
+    The traitor's and the spoiler's hand have reft our hearths of all.
+    But we have hearts, and we have arms, as strong to will and dare
+    As when our ancient banners flew within the northern air.
+    Come, brothers! let me name a spell shall rouse your souls again,
+    And send the old blood bounding free through pulse and heart
+              and vein.
+    Call back the days of bygone years,--be young and strong once more;
+    Think yonder stream, so stark and red, is one we've cross'd before.
+    Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! rise up on either hand,--
+    Again upon the Garry's banks, on Scottish soil we stand!
+    Again I see the tartans wave, again the trumpets ring;
+    Again I hear our leader's call: 'Upon them for the King!'
+    Stay'd we behind that glorious day for roaring flood or linn?
+    The soul of Graeme is with us still,--now, brothers, will ye in?"
+
+    No stay,--no pause. With one accord, they grasp'd each other's hand,
+    Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless band.
+    High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore,
+    Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell, and shot, and
+              cannon-roar,--
+    "Now, by the Holy Cross! I swear, since earth and sea began,
+    Was never such a daring deed essay'd by mortal man!"
+
+    Thick blew the smoke across the stream, and faster flash'd the
+              flame:
+    The water plash'd in hissing jets as ball and bullet came.
+    Yet onwards push'd the Cavaliers all stern and undismay'd,
+    With thousand armed foes before, and none behind to aid.
+    Once, as they near'd the middle stream, so strong the torrent swept,
+    That scarce that long and living wall their dangerous footing kept.
+    Then rose a warning cry behind, a joyous shout before:
+    "The current's strong,--the way is long,--they'll never reach the
+              shore!
+    See, see! they stagger in the midst, they waver in their line!
+    Fire on the madmen! break their ranks, and whelm them in the Rhine!"
+
+    Have you seen the tall trees swaying when the blast is sounding
+              shrill,
+    And the whirlwind reels in fury down the gorges of the hill?
+    How they toss their mighty branches struggling with the tempest's
+              shock;
+    How they keep their place of vantage, cleaving firmly to the rock?
+    Even so the Scottish warriors held their own against the river;
+    Though the water flash'd around them, not an eye was seen to quiver;
+    Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, not a man relax'd his hold;
+    For their hearts were big and thrilling with the mighty thoughts
+              of old.
+    One word was spoke among them, and through the ranks it spread,--
+    "Remember our dead Claverhouse!" was all the Captain said.
+    Then, sternly bending forward, they wrestled on a while,
+    Until they clear'd the heavy stream, then rush'd towards the isle.
+
+    The German heart is stout and true, the German arm is strong;
+    The German foot goes seldom back where armed foemen throng.
+    But never had they faced in field so stern a charge before,
+    And never had they felt the sweep of Scotland's broad claymore.
+    Not fiercer pours the avalanche adown the steep incline,
+    That rises o'er the parent-springs of rough and rapid Rhine,--
+    Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven than came the Scottish
+              band
+    Right up against the guarded trench, and o'er it sword in hand.
+    In vain their leaders forward press,--they meet the deadly brand!
+
+    O lonely island of the Rhine,--where seed was never sown,
+    What harvest lay upon thy sands, by those strong reapers thrown?
+    What saw the winter moon that night, as, struggling through the
+              rain,
+    She pour'd a wan and fitful light on marsh, and stream, and plain?
+    A dreary spot with corpses strewn, and bayonets glistening round;
+    A broken bridge, a stranded boat, a bare and batter'd mound;
+    And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile, that sent its quivering
+              glare
+    To tell the leaders of the host the conquering Scots were there!
+
+    And did they twine the laurel-wreath, for those who fought so well?
+    And did they honor those who liv'd, and weep for those who fell?
+    What meed of thanks was given to them let aged annals tell.
+    Why should they bring the laurel-wreath,--why crown the cup with
+              wine?
+    It was not Frenchmen's blood that flow'd so freely on the Rhine,--
+    A stranger band of beggar'd men had done the venturous deed:
+    The glory was to France alone, the danger was their meed.
+    And what cared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and peer?
+    What virtue had such honey'd words the exiled heart to cheer?
+    What matter'd it that men should vaunt and loud and fondly swear,
+    That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere?
+    They bore within their breasts the grief that fame can never heal,--
+    The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel.
+    Their hearts were yearning for the land they ne'er might see
+              again,--
+    For Scotland's high and heather'd hills, for mountain, loch and
+              glen--
+    For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea,
+    Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be!
+
+    Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rhine's tempestuous flood
+    Has ta'en another name from those who bought it with their blood:
+
+    And, though the legend does not live,--for legends lightly die--
+    The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by,
+    And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot
+    Won by the warriors of the sword, stills calls that deep and
+              dangerous ford
+        The Passage of the Scot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Sacrifice and Self-Devotion hallow earth and fill the skies._
+
+        LORD HOUGHTON.--1809-1885.
+
+
+
+
+LXV. THE GAMBLING PARTY.
+
+EARL OF BEACONSFIELD.--1805-1881.
+
+_From_ THE YOUNG DUKE.
+
+
+The young Duke had accepted the invitation of the Baron de Berghem for
+to-morrow, and accordingly, himself, Lords Castlefort and Dice, and
+Temple Grace assembled in Brunswick Terrace at the usual hour. The
+dinner was studiously plain, and very little wine was drunk; yet
+everything was perfect. Tom Cogit stepped in to carve in his usual
+silent manner. He always came in and went out of a room without anyone
+observing him. He winked familiarly to Temple Grace, but scarcely
+presumed to bow to the Duke. He was very busy about the wine, and
+dressed the wild fowl in a manner quite unparalleled. He took particular
+care to send a most perfect portion to the young Duke, and he did this,
+as he paid all attentions to influential strangers, with the most marked
+consciousness of the sufferance which permitted his presence: never
+addressing his Grace, but audibly whispering to the servant, "Take this
+to the Duke"; or asking the attendant, "whether his Grace would try the
+Hermitage?"
+
+After dinner, with the exception of Cogit, who was busied in compounding
+some wonderful liquid for the future refreshment, they sat down to
+_ecarte_. Without having exchanged a word upon the subject, there seemed
+a general understanding among all the parties that to-night was to be a
+pitched battle, and they began at once, briskly. Yet, in spite of their
+universal determination, midnight arrived without anything decisive.
+Another hour passed over, and then Tom Cogit kept touching the Baron's
+elbow and whispering in a voice which everybody could understand. All
+this meant that supper was ready. It was brought into the room.
+
+Gaming has one advantage, it gives you an appetite; that is to say, so
+long as you have a chance remaining. The Duke had thousands; for at
+present his resources were unimpared, and he was exhausted by the
+constant attention and anxiety of five hours. He passed over the
+delicacies and went to the side-table, and began cutting himself some
+cold roast beef. Tom Cogit ran up, not to his Grace, but to the Baron,
+to announce the shocking fact that the Duke of St. James was enduring
+great trouble; and then the Baron asked his Grace to permit Mr. Cogit to
+serve him. Our hero devoured: we use the word advisedly, as fools say in
+the House of Commons: he devoured the roast beef, and rejecting the
+Hermitage with disgust, asked for porter.
+
+They set to again fresh as eagles. At six o'clock accounts were so
+complicated that they stopped to make up their books. Each played with
+his memoranda and pencil at his side. Nothing fatal had yet happened.
+The Duke owed Lord Dice about five thousand pounds, and Temple Grace
+owed him as many hundreds. Lord Castlefort also was his debtor to the
+tune of seven hundred and fifty, and the Baron was in his books, but
+slightly. Every half-hour they had a new pack of cards, and threw the
+used one on the floor. All this time Tom Cogit did nothing but snuff the
+candles, stir the fire, bring them a new pack, and occasionally make a
+tumbler for them. At eight o'clock the Duke's situation was worsened.
+The run was greatly against him, and perhaps his losses were doubled. He
+pulled up again the next hour or two; but nevertheless, at ten o'clock,
+owed every one something. No one offered to give over; and everyone,
+perhaps, felt that his object was not obtained. They made their toilets
+and went down-stairs to breakfast. In the meantime the shutters were
+opened, the room aired, and in less than an hour they were at it again.
+
+They played till dinner-time without intermission; and though the Duke
+made some desperate efforts, and some successful ones, his losses were,
+nevertheless, trebled. Yet he ate an excellent dinner and was not at all
+depressed; because the more he lost, the more his courage and his
+resources seemed to expand. At first he had limited himself to ten
+thousand; after breakfast it was to have been twenty thousand; then
+thirty thousand was the ultimatum; and now he dismissed all thoughts of
+limits from his mind, and was determined to risk or gain everything.
+
+At midnight, he had lost forty-eight thousand pounds. Affairs now began
+to be serious. His supper was not so hearty. While the rest were eating,
+he walked about the room, and began to limit his ambition to recovery,
+and not to gain. When you play to win back, the fun is over: there is
+nothing to recompense you for your bodily tortures and your degraded
+feelings; and the very best result that can happen, while it has no
+charms, seems to your cowed mind impossible.
+
+On they played, and the Duke lost more. His mind was jaded. He
+floundered, he made desperate efforts, but plunged deeper in the
+slough. Feeling that, to regain his ground, each card must tell, he
+acted on each as if it must win, and the consequences of this
+insanity (for a gamester at such a crisis is really insane) were,
+that his losses were prodigious.
+
+Another morning came, and there they sat, ankle-deep in cards. No
+attempt at breakfast now, no affectation of making a toilet or airing
+the room. The atmosphere was hot, to be sure, but it well became such
+a Hell. There they sat, in total, in positive forgetfulness of
+everything but the hot game they were hunting down. There was not a
+man in the room, except Tom Cogit, who could have told you the name of
+the town in which they were living. There they sat, almost breathless,
+watching every turn with the fell look in their cannibal eyes which
+showed their total inability to sympathize with their fellow-beings.
+All forms of society had been long forgotten. There was no snuff-box
+handed about now, for courtesy, admiration, or a pinch; no affectation
+of occasionally making a remark upon any other topic but the
+all-engrossing one. Lord Castlefort rested with his arms on the table:
+a false tooth had got unhinged. His Lordship, who, at any other time,
+would have been most annoyed, coolly put it in his pocket. His cheeks
+had fallen, and he looked twenty years older. Lord Dice had torn off
+his cravat, and his hair hung down over his callous, bloodless cheeks,
+straight as silk. Temple Grace looked as if he were blighted by
+lightning; and his deep blue eyes gleamed like a hyena's. The Baron
+was least changed. Tom Cogit, who smelt that the crisis was at hand,
+was as quiet as a bribed rat.
+
+On they played till six o'clock in the evening, and then they agreed to
+desist till after dinner. Lord Dice threw himself on a sofa. Lord
+Castlefort breathed with difficulty. The rest walked about. While they
+were resting on their oars, the young Duke roughly made up his accounts.
+He found that he was minus about one hundred thousand pounds.
+
+Immense as this loss was, he was more struck, more appalled, let us
+say, at the strangeness of the surrounding scene, than even by his own
+ruin. As he looked upon his fellow gamesters, he seemed, for the first
+time in his life, to gaze upon some of those hideous demons of whom he
+had read. He looked in the mirror at himself. A blight seemed to have
+fallen over his beauty, and his presence seemed accursed. He had
+pursued a dissipated, even more than a dissipated career. Many were
+the nights that had been spent by him not on his couch; great had been
+the exhaustion that he had often experienced; haggard had sometimes
+even been the lustre of his youth. But when had been marked upon his
+brow this harrowing care? when had his features before been stamped
+with this anxiety, this anguish, this baffled desire, this strange
+unearthly scowl, which made him even tremble? What! was it possible?
+it could not be, that in time he was to be like those awful, those
+unearthly, those unhallowed things that were around him. He felt as if
+he had fallen from his state, as if he had dishonored his ancestry, as
+if he had betrayed his trust. He felt a criminal. In the darkness of
+his meditations a flash burst from his lurid mind, a celestial light
+appeared to dissipate this thickening gloom, and his soul felt as if
+it were bathed with the softening radiancy. He thought of May Dacre,
+he thought of everything that was pure, and holy, and beautiful, and
+luminous, and calm. It was the innate virtue of the man that made this
+appeal to his corrupted nature. His losses seemed nothing; his dukedom
+would be too slight a ransom for freedom from these ghouls, and for
+the breath of the sweet air.
+
+He advanced to the Baron, and expressed his desire to play no more.
+There was an immediate stir. All jumped up, and now the deed was done.
+Cant, in spite of their exhaustion, assumed her reign. They begged him
+to have his revenge, were quite annoyed at the result, had no doubt he
+would recover if he proceeded. Without noticing their remarks, he seated
+himself at the table, and wrote cheques for their respective amounts,
+Tom Cogit jumping up and bringing him the inkstand. Lord Castlefort, in
+the most affectionate manner, pocketed the draft; at the same time
+recommending the Duke not to be in a hurry, but to send it when he was
+cool. Lord Dice received his with a bow, Temple Grace with a sigh, the
+Baron with an avowal of his readiness always to give him his revenge.
+
+The Duke, though sick at heart, would not leave the room with any
+evidence of a broken spirit; and when Lord Castlefort again repeated,
+"Pay us when we meet again," he said, "I think it very improbable that
+we shall meet again, my Lord. I wished to know what gaming was. I had
+heard a great deal about it. It is not so very disgusting; but I am a
+young man, and cannot play tricks with my complexion."
+
+He reached his house. He gave orders for himself not to be disturbed,
+and he went to bed; but in vain he tried to sleep. What rack exceeds the
+torture of an excited brain and an exhausted body? His hands and feet
+were like ice, his brow like fire; his ears rung with supernatural
+roaring; a nausea had seized upon him, and death he would have welcomed.
+In vain, in vain he courted repose; in vain, in vain he had recourse to
+every expedient to wile himself to slumber. Each minute he started from
+his pillow with some phrase which reminded him of his late fearful
+society. Hour after hour moved on with its leaden pace; each hour he
+heard strike, and each hour seemed an age. Each hour was only a signal
+to cast off some covering, or shift his position. It was, at length,
+morning. With a feeling that he should go mad if he remained any longer
+in bed, he rose, and paced his chamber. The air refreshed him. He threw
+himself on the floor; the cold crept over his senses, and he slept.
+
+
+
+
+LXVI. THE PICKWICKIANS DISPORT THEMSELVES ON ICE.[O]
+
+CHARLES DICKENS.--1812-1870.
+
+_From_ THE POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF THE PICKWICK CLUB.
+
+
+"Now," said Wardle, after a substantial lunch had been done ample
+justice to; "what say you to an hour on the ice? We shall have plenty
+of time."
+
+"Capital!" said Mr. Benjamin Allen.
+
+"Prime!" ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer.
+
+"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.
+
+"Ye-yes; oh, yes," replied Mr. Winkle. "I--I--am _rather_ out of
+practice."
+
+"Oh, _do_ skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I like to see it so much."
+
+"Oh, it is _so_ graceful," said another young lady.
+
+A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed her
+opinion that it was "swan-like."
+
+"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening; "but I
+have no skates."
+
+This objection was at once over-ruled. Trundle had a couple of pair, and
+the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more down stairs:
+whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely
+uncomfortable.
+
+Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and the fat boy
+and Mr. Weller, having shovelled and swept away the snow which had
+fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a
+dexterity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvellous, and described
+circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed upon
+the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant
+and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick,
+Mr. Tupman, and the ladies: which reached a pitch of positive
+enthusiasm, when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by the
+aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions, which they
+called a reel.
+
+All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold,
+had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his
+skates on, with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very
+complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass,
+who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however,
+with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly
+screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.
+
+"Now, then, sir," said Sam, in an encouraging tone; "off vith you, and
+show 'em how to do it."
+
+"Stop, Sam, stop!" said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching
+hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. "How slippery it
+is, Sam!"
+
+"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "Hold up,
+sir!"
+
+This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demonstration
+Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet in
+the air, and dash the back of his head on the ice.
+
+"These--these--are very awkward skates; ain't they, Sam?" inquired Mr.
+Winkle, staggering.
+
+"I'm afeerd there's a orkard gen'l'm'n in 'em, sir," replied Sam.
+
+"Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was
+anything the matter. "Come; the ladies are all anxiety."
+
+"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. "I'm coming."
+
+"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to disengage himself.
+"Now, sir, start off!"
+
+"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately
+to Mr. Weller. "I find I've got a couple of coats at home that I don't
+want, Sam. You may have them, Sam."
+
+"Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
+
+"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, hastily. "You
+needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five
+shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it you this
+afternoon, Sam."
+
+"You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
+
+"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr. Winkle. "There--that's
+right. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not
+too fast."
+
+Mr. Winkle stooping forward, with his body half doubled up, was being
+assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like
+manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite
+bank:
+
+"Sam!"
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"Here. I want you."
+
+"Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the governor a callin'? Let
+go, sir."
+
+With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of
+the agonized Pickwickian, and, in so doing, administered a considerable
+impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of
+dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman
+bore swiftly down into the centre of the reel, at the very moment when
+Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr.
+Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell
+heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his
+feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind, in
+skates. He was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile;
+but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.
+
+"Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety.
+
+"Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very hard.
+
+"I wish you'd let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin, with great
+eagerness.
+
+"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle hurriedly.
+
+"I really think you had better," said Allen.
+
+"Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle; "I'd rather not."
+
+"What do _you_ think, Mr. Pickwick?" inquired Bob Sawyer.
+
+Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, and
+said in a stern voice, "Take his skates off."
+
+"No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated Mr. Winkle.
+
+"Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick firmly.
+
+The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it in
+silence.
+
+"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise.
+
+Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders; and
+beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him,
+and uttered in a low, but distinct and emphatic tone, these
+remarkable words:
+
+"You're a humbug, sir."
+
+"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.
+
+"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir."
+
+With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel, and rejoined
+his friends.
+
+While Mr. Pickwick was delivering himself of the sentiment just
+recorded, Mr. Weller and the fat boy, having by their joint endeavors
+cut out a slide, were exercising themselves thereupon, in a very
+masterly and brilliant manner. Sam Weller, in particular, was displaying
+that beautiful feat of fancy-sliding which is currently denominated
+"knocking at the cobbler's door," and which is achieved by skimming over
+the ice on one foot, and occasionally giving a postman's knock upon it
+with the other. It was a good long slide, and there was something in the
+motion which Mr. Pickwick, who was very cold with standing still, could
+not help envying.
+
+"It looks a nice warm exercise that, doesn't it?" he inquired of Wardle,
+when that gentleman was thoroughly out of breath, by reason of the
+indefatigable manner in which he had converted his legs into a pair of
+compasses, and drawn complicated problems on the ice.
+
+"Ah, it does indeed," replied Wardle. "Do you slide?"
+
+"I used to do so on the gutters, when I was a boy," replied
+Mr. Pickwick.
+
+"Try it now," said Wardle.
+
+"Oh do, please, Mr. Pickwick!" cried all the ladies.
+
+"I should be very happy to afford you any amusement," replied Mr.
+Pickwick, "but I haven't done such a thing these thirty years."
+
+"Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!" said Wardle, dragging off his skates with the
+impetuosity which characterized all his proceedings. "Here; I'll keep
+you company; come along!" And away went the good tempered old fellow
+down the slide, with a rapidity which came very close upon Mr. Weller,
+and beat the fat boy all to nothing.
+
+Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves and put them in
+his hat: took two or three short runs, baulked himself as often, and at
+last took another run, and went slowly and gravely down the slide, with
+his feet about a yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified shouts
+of all the spectators.
+
+"Keep the pot a bilin', sir!" said Sam; and down went Wardle again, and
+then Mr. Pickwick, and then Sam, and then Mr. Winkle, and then Mr. Bob
+Sawyer, and then the fat boy, and then Mr. Snodgrass, following closely
+upon each other's heels, and running after each other with as much
+eagerness as if all their future prospects in life depended on their
+expedition.
+
+It was the most intensely interesting thing, to observe the manner in
+which Mr. Pickwick performed his share in the ceremony; to watch the
+torture of anxiety with which he viewed the person behind, gaining upon
+him at the imminent hazard of tripping him up; to see him gradually
+expend the painful force he had put on at first, and turn slowly round
+on the slide, with his face towards the point from which he had started;
+to contemplate the playful smile which mantled on his face when he had
+accomplished the distance, and the eagerness with which he turned round
+when he had done so, and ran after his predecessor: his black gaiters
+tripping pleasantly through the snow, and his eyes beaming cheerfulness
+and gladness through his spectacles. And when he was knocked down (which
+happened upon the average every third round), it was the most
+invigorating sight that can possibly be imagined, to behold him gather
+up his hat, gloves, and handkerchief, with a glowing countenance, and
+resume his station in the rank, with an ardor and enthusiasm that
+nothing could abate.
+
+The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the quickest, the
+laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp smart crack was heard. There
+was a quick rush towards the bank, a wild scream from the ladies, and a
+shout from Mr. Tupman. A large mass of ice disappeared; the water
+bubbled up over it; Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, and handkerchief were
+floating on the surface; and this was all of Mr. Pickwick that anybody
+could see.
+
+Dismay and anguish were depicted on every countenance, the males turned
+pale, and the females fainted, Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle grasped
+each other by the hand, and gazed at the spot where their leader had
+gone down, with frenzied eagerness: while Mr. Tupman, by way of
+rendering the promptest assistance, and at the same time conveying to
+any persons who might be within hearing, the clearest possible notion of
+the catastrophe, ran off across the country at his utmost speed,
+screaming "Fire!" with all his might.
+
+It was at this moment, when old Wardle and Sam Weller were approaching
+the hole with cautious steps, and Mr. Benjamin Allen was holding a
+hurried consultation with Mr. Bob Sawyer on the advisability of bleeding
+the company generally, as an improving little bit of professional
+practice--it was at this very moment, that a face, head, and shoulders,
+emerged from beneath the water, and disclosed the features and
+spectacles of Mr. Pickwick.
+
+"Keep yourself up for an instant--for only one instant!" bawled Mr.
+Snodgrass.
+
+"Yes, do; let me implore you--for my sake!" roared Mr. Winkle, deeply
+affected. The adjuration was rather unnecessary; the probability being,
+that if Mr. Pickwick had declined to keep himself up for anybody else's
+sake, it would have occurred to him that he might as well do so, for
+his own.
+
+"Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow?" said Wardle.
+
+"Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the water from his head
+and face, and gasping for breath. "I fell upon my back. I couldn't get
+on my feet at first."
+
+The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was yet visible, bore
+testimony to the accuracy of this statement; and as the fears of the
+spectators were still further relieved by the fat boy's suddenly
+recollecting that the water was nowhere more than five feet deep,
+prodigies of valor were performed to get him out. After a vast quantity
+of splashing, and cracking, and struggling, Mr. Pickwick was at length
+fairly extricated from his unpleasant position, and once more stood on
+dry land.
+
+"Oh, he'll catch his death of cold," said Emily.
+
+"Dear old thing!" said Arabella. "Let me wrap this shawl round you,
+Mr. Pickwick."
+
+"Ah, that's the best thing you can do," said Wardle; "and when you've
+got it on, run home as fast as your legs can carry you, and jump into
+bed directly."
+
+A dozen shawls were offered on the instant. Three or four of the
+thickest having been selected, Mr. Pickwick was wrapped up, and
+started off, under the guidance of Mr. Weller: presenting the
+singular phenomenon of an elderly gentleman, dripping wet, and
+without a hat, with his arms bound down to his sides, skimming
+over the ground, without any clearly defined purpose, at the
+rate of six good English miles an hour.
+
+But Mr. Pickwick cared not for appearances in such an extreme case, and
+urged on by Sam Weller, he kept at the very top of his speed until he
+reached the door of Manor Farm, where Mr. Tupman had arrived some five
+minutes before, and had frightened the old lady into palpitations of the
+heart by impressing her with the unalterable conviction that the kitchen
+chimney was on fire--a calamity which always presented itself in glowing
+colors to the old lady's mind, when anybody about her evinced the
+smallest agitation.
+
+Mr. Pickwick paused not an instant until he was snug in bed. Sam Weller
+lighted a blazing fire in his room, and took up his dinner, and
+afterwards a great rejoicing was held in honor of his safety.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[O] MR. PICKWICK, a benevolent, simple-minded old gentleman, is the
+founder of the Pickwick Club. He and three other members, Mr. Winkle,
+Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Tupman, form the Corresponding Society of the
+club, and they travel over England together, meeting with many
+laughable adventures. They are accompanied by Samuel Weller, Mr.
+Pickwick's servant, an inimitable compound of cool impudence, quaint
+humor, and fidelity. The Pickwickians have accepted the invitation of
+Mr. Wardle, of Manor Farm, Dingley Dell, to be present at the
+marriage of his daughter, Isabella, to Mr. Trundle. Among the guests
+are also Mr. Bob Sawyer and Mr. Benjamin Allen, two medical students,
+and Mr. Allen's sister, Arabella. Other members of Mr. Wardle's
+household are Mr. Wardle's mother, the "old lady" of Manor Farm, his
+daughter, Emily, and Joe, a servant lad, known as the "fat boy." The
+wedding takes place on the twenty-third of December, and then follow
+the Christmas festivities, of which the skating forms a part.
+
+
+
+
+LXVII. THE HANGING OF THE CRANE.
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.--1807-1882.
+
+
+I.
+
+    The lights are out, and gone are all the guests
+    That thronging came with merriment and jests
+      To celebrate the Hanging of the Crane
+    In the new house,--into the night are gone;
+    But still the fire upon the hearth burns on,
+        And I alone remain.
+
+        O fortunate, O happy day,
+        When a new household finds its place
+        Among the myriad homes of earth,
+        Like a new star just sprung to birth,
+        And roll'd on its harmonious way
+        Into the boundless realms of space!
+        So said the guests in speech and song,
+        As in the chimney, burning bright,
+        We hung the iron crane to-night,
+        And merry was the feast and long.
+
+
+II.
+
+    And now I sit and muse on what may be,
+    And in my vision see, or seem to see,
+      Through floating vapors interfused with light,
+    Shapes indeterminate, that gleam and fade,
+    As shadows passing into deeper shade
+        Sink and elude the sight.
+
+        For two alone, there in the hall,
+        Is spread the table round and small;
+        Upon the polish'd silver shine
+        The evening lamps, but, more divine,
+        The light of love shines over all;
+        Of love, that says not mine and thine,
+        But ours, for ours is thine and mine.
+
+        They want no guests, to come between
+        Their tender glances like a screen,
+        And tell them tales of land and sea,
+        And whatsoever may betide
+        The great, forgotten world outside;
+        They want no guests; they needs must be
+        Each other's own best company.
+
+
+III.
+
+    The picture fades; as at a village fair
+    A showman's views, dissolving into air,
+      Again appear transfigured on the screen,
+    So in my fancy this; and now once more,
+    In part transfigured, through the open door
+        Appears the selfsame scene.
+
+        Seated, I see the two again,
+        But not alone; they entertain
+        A little angel unaware,
+        With face as round as is the moon;
+        A royal guest with flaxen hair,
+        Who, throned upon his lofty chair,
+        Drums on the table with his spoon,
+        Then drops it careless on the floor,
+        To grasp at things unseen before.
+
+        Are these celestial manners? these
+        The ways that win, the arts that please?
+        Ah yes; consider well the guest,
+        And whatsoe'er he does seems best;
+        He ruleth by the right divine
+        Of helplessness, so lately born
+        In purple chambers of the morn,
+        As sovereign over thee and thine.
+        He speaketh not; and yet there lies
+        A conversation in his eyes;
+        The golden silence of the Greek,
+        The gravest wisdom of the wise,
+        Not spoken in language, but in looks
+        More legible than printed books,
+        As if he could but would not speak.
+        And now, O monarch absolute,
+        Thy power is put to proof; for, lo!
+        Resistless, fathomless, and slow,
+        The nurse comes rustling like the sea,
+        And pushes back thy chair and thee,
+        And so good night to King Canute.
+
+
+IV.
+
+    As one who walking in a forest sees
+    A lovely landscape through the parted trees,
+      Then sees it not, for boughs that intervene;
+    Or, as we see the moon sometimes reveal'd
+    Through drifting clouds, and then again conceal'd,
+        So I behold the scene.
+
+        There are two guests at table now;
+        The king, deposed and older grown,
+        No longer occupies the throne,--
+        The crown is on his sister's brow;
+        A Princess from the Fairy Isles,
+        The very pattern girl of girls,
+        All cover'd and embower'd in curls,
+        Rose-tinted from the Isle of Flowers,
+        And sailing with soft, silken sails
+        From far-off Dreamland into ours.
+        Above their bowls with rims of blue
+        Four azure eyes of deeper hue
+        Are looking, dreamy with delight;
+        Limpid as planets that emerge
+        Above the ocean's rounded verge,
+        Soft-shining through the summer night.
+        Steadfast they gaze, yet nothing see
+        Beyond the horizon of their bowls;
+        Nor care they for the world that rolls
+        With all its freight of troubled souls
+        Into the days that are to be.
+
+
+V.
+
+    Again the tossing boughs shut out the scene,
+    Again the drifting vapors intervene,
+      And the moon's pallid disk is hidden quite:
+    And now I see the table wider grown,
+    As round a pebble into water thrown
+        Dilates a ring of light.
+
+        I see the table wider grown,
+        I see it garlanded with guests,
+        As if fair Ariadne's Crown
+        Out of the sky had fallen down;
+        Maidens within whose tender breasts
+        A thousand restless hopes and fears,
+        Forth reaching to the coming years,
+        Flutter awhile, then quiet lie,
+        Like timid birds that fain would fly,
+        But do not dare to leave their nests;--
+        And youths, who in their strength elate
+        Challenge the van and front of fate,
+        Eager as champions to be
+        In the divine knight-errantry
+        Of youth, that travels sea and land
+        Seeking adventures, or pursues,
+        Through cities, and through solitudes
+        Frequented by the lyric Muse,
+        The phantom with the beckoning hand,
+        That still allures and still eludes.
+        O sweet illusions of the brain!
+        O sudden thrills of fire and frost!
+        The world is bright while ye remain,
+        And dark and dead when ye are lost!
+
+
+VI.
+
+    The meadow-brook, that seemeth to stand still,
+    Quickens its current as it nears the mill;
+      And so the stream of Time that lingereth
+    In level places, and so dull appears,
+    Runs with a swifter current as it nears
+      The gloomy mills of Death.
+
+        And now, like the magician's scroll,
+        That in the owner's keeping shrinks
+        With every wish he speaks or thinks,
+        Till the last wish consumes the whole,
+        The table dwindles, and again
+        I see the two alone remain.
+        The crown of stars is broken in parts;
+        Its jewels, brighter than the day,
+        Have one by one been stolen away
+        To shine in other homes and hearts.
+        One is a wanderer now afar
+        In Ceylon or in Zanzibar,
+        Or sunny regions of Cathay;
+        And one is in the boisterous camp
+        Mid clink of arms and horses' tramp,
+        And battle's terrible array.
+        I see the patient mother read,
+        With aching heart, of wrecks that float
+        Disabled on those seas remote,
+        Or of some great heroic deed
+        On battle-fields, where thousands bleed
+        To lift one hero into fame.
+        Anxious she bends her graceful head
+        Above these chronicles of pain,
+        And trembles with a secret dread
+        Lest there among the drown'd or slain
+        She find the one beloved name.
+
+
+VII.
+
+    After a day of cloud and wind and rain
+    Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,
+      And, touching all the darksome woods with light.
+    Smiles on the fields, until they laugh and sing,
+    Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring
+        Drops down into the night.
+
+        What see I now? The night is fair,
+        The storm of grief, the clouds of care,
+        The wind, the rain, have pass'd away;
+        The lamps are lit, the fires burn bright,
+        The house is full of life and light:
+        It is the Golden Wedding day.
+        The guests come thronging in once more,
+        Quick footsteps sound along the floor,
+        The trooping children crowd the stair,
+        And in and out and everywhere
+        Flashes along the corridor
+        The sunshine of their golden hair.
+
+        On the round table in the hall
+        Another Ariadne's Crown
+        Out of the sky hath fallen down;
+        More than one Monarch of the Moon
+        Is drumming with his silver spoon;
+        The light of love shines over all.
+
+        O fortunate, O happy day!
+        The people sing, the people say.
+        The ancient bridegroom and the bride,
+        Smiling contented and serene,
+        Upon the blithe, bewildering scene,
+        Behold, well pleas'd, on every side
+        Their forms and features multiplied,
+        As the reflection of a light
+        Between two burnish'd mirrors gleams,
+        Or lamps upon a bridge at night
+        Stretch on and on before the sight,
+        Till the long vista endless seems.
+
+
+
+
+LXVIII. EARTHWORMS.
+
+CHARLES DARWIN--1809-1882.
+
+_From_ THE FORMATION OF VEGETABLE MOULD THROUGH THE ACTION OF WORMS.
+
+
+Worms have played a more important part in the history of the world than
+most persons would at first suppose. In almost all humid countries they
+are extraordinarily numerous, and for their size possess great muscular
+power. In many parts of England a weight of more than ten tons of dry
+earth annually passes through their bodies and is brought to the surface
+on each acre of land; so that the whole superficial bed of vegetable
+mould passes through their bodies in the course of every few years. From
+the collapsing of the old burrows the mould is in constant though slow
+movement, and the particles composing it are thus rubbed together. By
+these means fresh surfaces are continually exposed to the action of the
+carbonic acid in the soil, and of the humus-acids which appear to be
+still more efficient in the decomposition of rocks. The generation of
+the humus-acids is probably hastened during the digestion of the many
+half-decayed leaves which worms consume. Thus the particles of earth,
+forming the superficial mould, are subjected to conditions eminently
+favorable for their decomposition and disintegration. Moreover, the
+particles of the softer rocks suffer some amount of mechanical
+trituration in the muscular gizzards of worms, in which small stones
+serve as mill-stones....
+
+Archaeologists ought to be grateful to worms, as they protect and
+preserve for an indefinitely long period every object, not liable to
+decay, which is dropped on the surface of the land, by burying it
+beneath their castings. Thus, also, many elegant and curious tesselated
+pavements and other ancient remains have been preserved; though no doubt
+the worms have in these cases been largely aided by earth washed and
+blown from the adjoining land, especially when cultivated. The old
+tesselated pavements have, however, often suffered by having subsided
+unequally from being unequally undermined by the worms. Even old massive
+walls may be undermined and subside; and no building is in this respect
+safe, unless the foundations lie six or seven feet beneath the surface,
+at a depth at which worms cannot work. It is probable that many
+monoliths and some old walls have fallen down from having been
+undermined by worms.
+
+Worms prepare the ground in an excellent manner for the growth of
+fibrous-rooted plants and for seedlings of all kinds. They periodically
+expose the mould to the air, and sift it so that no stones larger than
+the particles which they can swallow are left in it. They mingle the
+whole intimately together, like a gardener who prepares fine soil for
+his choicest plants. In this state it is well fitted to retain moisture
+and to absorb all soluble substances, as well as for the process of
+nitrification. The bones of dead animals, the harder parts of insects,
+the shells of land-molluscs, leaves, twigs, etc., are before long all
+buried beneath the accumulated castings of worms, and are thus brought
+in a more or less decayed state within reach of the roots of plants.
+Worms likewise drag an infinite number of dead leaves and other parts of
+plants into their burrows, partly for the sake of plugging them up and
+partly as food.
+
+The leaves which are dragged into the burrows as food, after being
+torn into the finest shreds, partially digested, and saturated with
+the intestinal secretions, are commingled with much earth. This
+earth forms the dark-colored, rich humus which almost everywhere
+covers the surface of the land with a fairly well-defined layer or
+mantle. Von Hensen placed two worms in a vessel eighteen inches in
+diameter, which was filled with sand, on which fallen leaves were
+strewed; and these were soon dragged into their burrows to a depth
+of three inches. After about six weeks an almost uniform layer of
+sand, a centimetre (.4 inch) in thickness, was converted into humus
+by having passed through the alimentary canals of these two worms.
+It is believed by some persons that worm-burrows, which often
+penetrate the ground almost perpendicularly to a depth of five or
+six feet, materially aid in its drainage; notwithstanding that the
+viscid castings piled over the mouths of the burrows prevent or
+check the rain-water directly entering them. They allow the air to
+penetrate deeply into the ground. They also greatly facilitate the
+downward passage of roots of moderate size; and these will be
+nourished by the humus with which the burrows are lined. Many seeds
+owe their germination to having been covered by castings; and others
+buried to a considerable depth beneath accumulated castings lie
+dormant, until at some future time they are accidentally uncovered
+and germinate.
+
+Worms are poorly provided with sense-organs, for they cannot be said to
+see, although they can just distinguish between light and darkness; they
+are completely deaf, and have only a feeble power of smell; the sense of
+touch alone is well developed. They can therefore learn little about the
+outside world, and it is surprising that they should exhibit some skill
+in lining their burrows with their castings and with leaves, and in the
+case of some species in piling up their castings into tower-like
+constructions. But it is far more surprising that they should apparently
+exhibit some degree of intelligence instead of a mere blind instinctive
+impulse, in their manner of plugging up the mouths of their burrows.
+They act in nearly the same manner as would a man, who had to close a
+cylindrical tube with different kinds of leaves, petioles, triangles of
+paper, etc., for they commonly seize such objects by their pointed ends.
+But with thin objects a certain number are drawn in by their broader
+ends. They do not act in the same unvarying manner in all cases, as do
+most of the lower animals; for instance, they do not drag in leaves by
+their foot-stalks, unless the basal part of the blade is as narrow as
+the apex, or narrower than it.
+
+When we behold a wide, turf-covered expanse, we should remember that its
+smoothness, on which so much of its beauty depends, is mainly due to all
+the inequalities having been slowly levelled by worms. It is a
+marvellous reflection that the whole of the superficial mould over any
+such expanse has passed, and will again pass, every few years, through
+the bodies of worms. The plough is one of the most ancient and most
+valuable of man's inventions; but long before he existed the land was in
+fact regularly ploughed, and still continues to be thus ploughed by
+earth-worms. It may be doubted whether there are many other animals
+which have played so important a part in the history of the world, as
+have these lowly organized creatures.
+
+
+
+
+LXIX. "AS SHIPS, BECALMED AT EVE."
+
+ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.--1819-1861.
+
+
+    As ships, becalm'd at eve, that lay
+      With canvas drooping, side by side,
+    Two towers of sail at dawn of day
+      Are scarce long leagues apart descried;
+
+    When fell the night, upsprung the breeze,
+      And all the darkling hours they plied,
+    Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas
+      By each was cleaving, side by side:
+
+    E'en so--but why the tale reveal
+      Of those, whom year by year unchanged,
+    Brief absence join'd anew to feel,
+      Astounded, soul from soul estranged?
+
+    At dead of night their sails were fill'd,
+      And onward each rejoicing steer'd--
+    Ah, neither blame, for neither will'd,
+      Or wist, what first with dawn appear'd!
+
+    To veer, how vain! On, onward strain,
+      Brave barks! In light, in darkness too,
+    Through winds and tides one compass guides--
+      To that, and your own selves, be true.
+
+    But O blithe breeze! and O great seas,
+      Though ne'er, that earliest parting past,
+    On your wide plain they join again,
+      Together lead them home at last.
+
+    One port, methought, alike they sought,
+      One purpose hold where'er they fare,--
+    O bounding breeze, O rushing seas!
+      At last, at last, unite them there.
+
+
+
+
+LXX. DUTY.
+
+ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
+
+
+    Duty--that's to say, complying
+      With whate'er's expected here;
+    On your unknown cousin's dying,
+      Straight be ready with the tear;
+    Upon etiquette relying,
+    Unto usage nought denying,
+    Lend your waist to be embraced,
+      Blush not even, never fear;
+    Claims of kith and kin connection,
+      Claims of manners honor still,
+    Ready money of affection
+      Pay, whoever drew the bill.
+    With the form conforming duly,
+    Senseless what it meaneth truly,
+    Go to church--the world require you,
+      To balls--the world require you too,
+    And marry--papa and mamma desire you,
+      And your sisters and schoolfellows do.
+
+    Duty--'tis to take on trust
+    What things are good, and right, and just;
+      And whether indeed they be or be not,
+      Try not, test not, feel not, see not:
+      'Tis walk and dance, sit down and rise
+      By leading, opening ne'er your eyes;
+    Stunt sturdy limbs that Nature gave,
+    And be drawn in a Bath chair along to the grave.
+
+    'Tis the stern and prompt suppressing,
+      As an obvious deadly sin,
+    All the questing and the guessing
+      Of the soul's own soul within:
+        'Tis the coward acquiescence
+          In a destiny's behest,
+        To a shade by terror made,
+        Sacrificing, aye, the essence
+          Of all that's truest, noblest, best:
+        'Tis the blind non-recognition
+          Or of goodness, truth, or beauty,
+        Save by precept and submission;
+          Moral blank, and moral void,
+          Life at very birth destroy'd.
+        Atrophy, exinanition!
+        Duty!
+        Yea, by duty's prime condition
+          Pure nonentity of duty!
+
+
+
+
+LXXI. SONNETS.
+
+CHARLES HEAVYSEGE.--1816-1876.
+
+
+I.
+
+    The day was lingering in the pale north-west,
+    And night was hanging o'er my head,--
+    Night where a myriad stars were spread;
+    While down in the east, where the light was least,
+    Seem'd the home of the quiet dead.
+    And, as I gazed on the field sublime,
+    To watch the bright, pulsating stars,
+    Adown the deep where the angels sleep
+    Came drawn the golden chime
+    Of those great spheres that sound the years
+    For the horologe of time.
+    Millenniums numberless they told,
+    Millenniums a million-fold
+    From the ancient hour of prime.
+
+
+II.
+
+    The stars are glittering in the frosty sky,
+    Frequent as pebbles on a broad sea-coast;
+    And o'er the vault the cloud-like galaxy
+    Has marshall'd its innumerable host.
+    Alive all heaven seems! with wondrous glow
+    Tenfold refulgent every star appears,
+    As if some wide, celestial gale did blow,
+    And thrice illume the ever-kindled spheres.
+    Orbs, with glad orbs rejoicing, burning, beam,
+    Ray-crown'd, with lambent lustre in their zones,
+    Till o'er the blue, bespangled spaces seem
+    Angels and great archangels on their thrones;
+    A host divine, whose eyes are sparkling gems,
+    And forms more bright than diamond diadems.
+
+
+III.
+
+    Hush'd in a calm beyond mine utterance,
+    See in the western sky the evening spread;
+    Suspended in its pale, serene expanse,
+    Like scatter'd flames, the glowing cloudlets red.
+    Clear are those clouds; and that pure sky's profound,
+    Transparent as a lake of hyaline;
+    Nor motion, nor the faintest breath of sound,
+    Disturbs the steadfast beauty of the scene.
+    Far o'er the vault, the winnow'd welkin wide,
+    From the bronzed east unto the whiten'd west,
+    Moor'd, seem, in their sweet, tranquil, roseate pride,
+    Those clouds the fabled islands of the blest;--
+    The lands where pious spirits breathe in joy,
+    And love and worship all their hours employ.
+
+
+
+
+LXXII. DOCTOR ARNOLD AT RUGBY.
+
+ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY.--1815-1880.
+
+
+With his usual and undoubting confidence in what he believed to be a
+general law of Providence, he based his whole management of the school
+on his early-formed and yearly-increasing conviction that what he had to
+look for, both intellectually and morally, was not performance but
+promise; that the very freedom and independence of school life, which in
+itself he thought so dangerous, might be made the best preparation for
+Christian manhood; and he did not hesitate to apply to his scholars the
+principle which seemed to him to have been adopted in the training of
+the childhood of the human race itself. He shrunk from pressing on the
+conscience of boys rules of action which he felt they were not yet able
+to bear, and from enforcing actions which, though right in themselves,
+would in boys be performed from wrong motives. Keenly as he felt the
+risk and fatal consequences of the failure of this trial, still it was
+his great, sometimes his only support to believe that "the character is
+braced amid such scenes to a greater beauty and firmness than it ever
+can attain without enduring and witnessing them. Our work here would be
+absolutely unendurable if we did not bear in mind that we should look
+forward as well as backward--if we did not remember that the victory of
+fallen man lies not in innocence but in tried virtue." "I hold fast," he
+said, "to the great truth, that 'blessed is he that overcometh;'" and he
+writes in 1837: "Of all the painful things connected with my employment,
+nothing is equal to the grief of seeing a boy come to school innocent
+and promising, and tracing the corruption of his character from the
+influence of the temptations around him, in the very place which ought
+to have strengthened and improved it. But in most cases those who come
+with a character of positive good are benefited; it is the neutral and
+indecisive characters which are apt to be decided for evil by schools,
+as they would be in fact by any other temptation."
+
+But this very feeling led him with the greater eagerness to catch at
+every means by which the trial might be shortened or alleviated. "Can
+the change from childhood to manhood be hastened, without prematurely
+exhausting the faculties of body or mind?" was one of the chief
+questions on which his mind was constantly at work, and which in the
+judgment of some he was disposed to answer too readily in the
+affirmative. It was with the elder boys, of course, that he chiefly
+acted on this principle, but with all above the very young ones he
+trusted to it more or less. Firmly as he believed that _a_ time of trial
+was inevitable, he believed no less firmly that it might be passed at
+public schools sooner than under other circumstances; and, in proportion
+as he disliked the assumption of a false manliness in boys, was his
+desire to cultivate in them true manliness, as the only step to
+something higher, and to dwell on earnest principle and moral
+thoughtfulness, as the great and distinguishing mark between good and
+evil. Hence his wish that as much as possible should be done _by_ the
+boys, and nothing _for_ them; hence arose his practice, in which his own
+delicacy of feeling and uprightness of purpose powerfully assisted him,
+of treating the boys as gentlemen and reasonable beings, of making them
+respect themselves by the mere respect he showed to them; of showing
+that he appealed and trusted to their own common sense and conscience.
+Lying, for example, to the masters, he made a great moral offence:
+placing implicit confidence in a boy's assertion, and then, if a
+falsehood was discovered, punishing it severely,--in the upper part of
+the school, when persisted in, with expulsion. Even with the lower forms
+he never seemed to be on the watch for boys; and in the higher forms any
+attempt at further proof of an assertion was immediately checked: "If
+you say so, that is quite enough--_of course_ I believe your word;" and
+there grew up in consequence a general feeling that "it was a shame to
+tell Arnold a lie--he always believes one."
+
+Perhaps the liveliest representation of this general spirit, as
+distinguished from its exemplification in particular parts of the
+discipline and instruction, would be formed by recalling his manner, as
+he appeared in the great school, where the boys used to meet when the
+whole school was assembled collectively, and not in its different forms
+or classes. Then, whether on his usual entrance every morning to prayers
+before the first lesson, or on the more special emergencies which might
+require his presence, he seemed to stand before them, not merely as the
+head-master, but as the representative of the school. There he spoke to
+them as members together with himself of the same great institution,
+whose character and reputation they had to sustain as well as he. He
+would dwell on the satisfaction he had in being head of a society, where
+noble and honorable feelings were encouraged, or on the disgrace which
+he felt in hearing of acts of disorder or violence, such as in the
+humbler ranks of life would render them amenable to the laws of their
+country; or again, on the trust which he placed in their honor as
+gentlemen, and the baseness of any instance in which it was abused. "Is
+this a Christian school?" he indignantly asked at the end of one of
+those addresses, in which he had spoken of an extensive display of bad
+feeling amongst the boys; and then added,--"I cannot remain here if all
+this is to be carried on by constraint and force; if I am to be here as
+a jailer, I will resign my office at once." And few scenes can be
+recorded more characteristic of him than on one of these occasions,
+when, in consequence of a disturbance, he had been obliged to send away
+several boys, and when in the midst of the general spirit of discontent
+which this excited, he stood in his place before the assembled school
+and said: "It is _not_ necessary that this should be a school of three
+hundred, or one hundred, or of fifty boys; but it _is_ necessary that it
+should be a school of Christian gentlemen."
+
+
+
+
+LXXIII. ODE TO THE NORTH-EAST WIND.
+
+CHARLES KINGSLEY.--1819-1875.
+
+
+    Welcome, wild North-easter!
+      Shame it is to see
+    Odes to every zephyr;
+      Ne'er a verse to thee.
+    Welcome, black North-easter!
+      O'er the German foam;
+    O'er the Danish moorlands,
+      From thy frozen home.
+    Tired we are of summer,
+      Tired of gaudy glare,
+    Showers soft and steaming,
+      Hot and breathless air.
+    Tired of listless dreaming
+      Through the lazy day:
+    Jovial wind of winter
+      Turns us out to play!
+    Sweep the golden reed-beds;
+      Crisp the lazy dyke;
+    Hunger into madness
+      Every plunging pike.
+    Fill the lake with wild-fowl;
+      Fill the marsh with snipe;
+    While on dreary moorlands
+      Lonely curlew pipe.
+    Through the black fir-forest
+      Thunder harsh and dry,
+    Shattering down the snow-flakes
+      Off the curdled sky.
+    Hark! The brave North-easter!
+      Breast-high lies the scent,
+    On by holt and headland,
+      Over heath and bent.
+    Chime, ye dappled darlings,
+      Through the sleet and snow.
+    Who can over-ride you?
+      Let the horses go!
+    Chime, ye dappled darlings,
+      Down the roaring blast;
+    You shall see a fox die
+      Ere an hour be past.
+    Go! and rest to-morrow,
+      Hunting in your dreams,
+    While our skates are ringing
+      O'er the frozen streams.
+    Let the luscious South-wind
+      Breathe in lovers' sighs,
+    While the lazy gallants
+      Bask in ladies' eyes.
+    What does he but soften
+      Heart alike and pen?
+    'Tis the hard grey weather
+      Breeds hard English men.
+    What's the soft South-wester?
+      'Tis the ladies' breeze,
+    Bringing home their true-loves
+      Out of all the seas.
+    But the black North-easter,
+      Through the snow-storm hurl'd,
+    Drives our English hearts of oak
+      Seaward round the world.
+    Come, as came our fathers,
+      Heralded by thee,
+    Conquering from the eastward,
+      Lords by land and sea.
+    Come; and strong within us
+      Stir the Vikings' blood,
+    Bracing brain and sinew;
+      Blow, thou wind of God!
+
+
+
+
+LXXIV. FROM "THE MILL ON THE FLOSS."
+
+GEORGE ELIOT.--1820-1880.
+
+
+The next morning Maggie was trotting with her own fishing-rod in one
+hand and a handle of the basket in the other, stepping always, by a
+peculiar gift, in the muddiest places, and looking darkly radiant from
+under her beaver bonnet because Tom was good to her. She had told Tom,
+however, that she should like him to put the worms on the hook for her,
+although she accepted his word when he assured her that worms couldn't
+feel (it was Tom's private opinion that it didn't much matter if they
+did). He knew all about worms, and fish, and those things; and what
+birds were mischievous, and how padlocks opened, and which way the
+handles of the gates were to be lifted. Maggie thought this sort of
+knowledge was very wonderful--much more difficult than remembering what
+was in the books; and she was rather in awe of Tom's superiority, for he
+was the only person who called her knowledge "stuff," and did not feel
+surprised at her cleverness. Tom, indeed, was of opinion that Maggie was
+a silly little thing; all girls were silly; they couldn't throw a stone
+so as to hit anything, couldn't do anything with a pocket-knife, and
+were frightened at frogs. Still, he was very fond of his sister, and
+meant always to take care of her, make her his housekeeper, and punish
+her when she did wrong.
+
+They were on their way to the Round Pool--that wonderful pool, which
+the floods had made a long while ago. No one knew how deep it was;
+and it was mysterious, too, that it should be almost a perfect round,
+framed in with willows and tall reeds, so that the water was only to
+be seen when you got close to the brink. The sight of the old favorite
+spot always heightened Tom's good-humor, and he spoke to Maggie in the
+most amiable whispers, as he opened the precious basket and prepared
+their tackle. He threw her line for her, and put the rod into her hand.
+Maggie thought it probable that the small fish would come to her hook,
+and the large ones to Tom's. But she had forgotten all about the fish,
+and was looking dreamily at the glassy water, when Tom said, in a loud
+whisper, "Look! look, Maggie!" and came running to prevent her from
+snatching her line away.
+
+Maggie was frightened lest she had been doing something wrong, as usual,
+but presently Tom drew out her line and brought a large tench bouncing
+on the grass.
+
+Tom was excited.
+
+"O Magsie! you little duck! Empty the basket."
+
+Maggie was not conscious of unusual merit, but it was enough that Tom
+called her Magsie, and was pleased with her. There was nothing to mar
+her delight in the whispers and the dreamy silences, when she listened
+to the light dipping sounds of the rising fish, and the gentle rustling,
+as if the willows, and the reeds, and the water had their happy
+whisperings also. Maggie thought it would make a very nice heaven to sit
+by the pool in that way, and never be scolded. She never knew she had a
+bite till Tom told her, but she liked fishing very much.
+
+It was one of their happy mornings. They trotted along and sat down
+together, with no thought that life would ever change much for them:
+they would only get bigger and not go to school, and it would always be
+like the holidays; they would always live together and be fond of each
+other. And the mill with its booming--the great chestnut-tree under
+which they played at houses--their own little river, the Ripple, where
+the banks seemed like home, and Tom was always seeing the water-rats,
+while Maggie gathered the purple plumy tops of the reeds, which she
+forgot and dropped afterward--above all, the great Floss, along which
+they wandered with a sense of travel, to see the rushing spring-tide,
+the awful Eagre, come up like a hungry monster, or to see the Great Ash
+which had once wailed and groaned like a man--these things would always
+be just the same to them. Tom thought people were at a disadvantage who
+lived on any other spot of the globe; and Maggie, when she read about
+Christiana passing "the river over which there is no bridge," always saw
+the Floss between the green pastures by the Great Ash.
+
+Life did change for Tom and Maggie; and yet they were not wrong in
+believing that the thoughts and loves of these first years would always
+make part of their lives. We could never have loved the earth so well if
+we had had no childhood in it--if it were not the earth where the same
+flowers come up again every spring that we used to gather with our tiny
+fingers as we sat lisping to ourselves on the grass--the same hips and
+haws on the autumn hedgerows--the same red-breasts that we used to call
+"God's birds," because they did no harm to the precious crops. What
+novelty is worth that sweet monotony where everything is known, and
+_loved_ because it is known?
+
+The wood I walk in on this mild May day, with the young yellow-brown
+foliage of the oaks between me and the blue sky, the white star-flowers,
+and the blue-eyed speedwell, and the ground-ivy at my feet--what grove
+of tropic palms, what strange ferns or splendid broad-petaled blossoms,
+could ever thrill such deep and delicate fibres within me as this
+home-scene? These familiar flowers, these well-remembered bird-notes,
+this sky with its fitful brightness, these furrowed and grassy fields,
+each with a sort of personality given to it by the capricious
+hedgerows--such things as these are the mother tongue of our
+imagination, the language that is laden with all the subtle inextricable
+associations the fleeting hours of our childhood left behind them. Our
+delight in the sunshine on the deep-bladed grass to-day might be no more
+than the faint perception of wearied souls, if it were not for the
+sunshine and the grass in the far-off years, which still live in us, and
+transform our perception into love.
+
+
+
+
+LXXV. THE CLOUD CONFINES.
+
+DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.--1828-1882.
+
+
+    The day is dark and the night
+      To him that would search their heart;
+      No lips of cloud that will part
+    Nor morning song in the light:
+      Only, gazing alone,
+      To him wild shadows are shown,
+      Deep under deep unknown
+    And height above unknown height.
+            Still we say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+    The Past is over and fled;
+      Named new, we name it the old;
+      Thereof some tale hath been told,
+    But no word comes from the dead;
+      Whether at all they be,
+      Or whether as bond or free,
+      Or whether they too were we,
+    Or by what spell they have sped.
+            Still we say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+    What of the heart of hate
+      That beats in thy breast, O Time?--
+      Red strife from the furthest prime,
+    And anguish of fierce debate;
+      War that shatters her slain,
+      And peace that grinds them as grain,
+      And eyes fix'd ever in vain
+    On the pitiless eyes of Fate.
+            Still we say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+    What of the heart of love
+      That bleeds in thy breast, O Man?--
+      Thy kisses snatch'd 'neath the ban
+    Of fangs that mock them above;
+      Thy bells prolong'd unto knells,
+      Thy hope that a breath dispels,
+      Thy bitter forlorn farewells
+    And the empty echoes thereof?
+            Still we say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+    The sky leans dumb on the sea,
+      Aweary with all its wings;
+      And oh! the song the sea sings
+    Is dark everlastingly.
+      Our past is clean forgot,
+      Our present is and is not,
+      Our future's a seal'd seedplot,
+    And what betwixt them are we?--
+            We who say as we go,--
+              "Strange to think by the way,
+            Whatever there is to know,
+              That shall we know one day."
+
+
+
+
+LXXVI. BARBARA FRIETCHIE.
+
+JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.--1807-
+
+
+    Up from the meadows rich with corn,
+    Clear in the cool September morn,
+
+    The cluster'd spires of Frederick stand
+    Green-wall'd by the hills of Maryland.
+
+    Round about them orchards sweep,
+    Apple and peach tree fruited deep,--
+
+    Fair as a garden of the Lord
+    To the eyes of the famish'd rebel horde,
+
+    On that pleasant morn of the early fall
+    When Lee march'd over the mountain wall,--
+
+    Over the mountains winding down,
+    Horse and foot, into Frederick town.
+
+    Forty flags with their silver stars,
+    Forty flags with their crimson bars,
+
+    Flapp'd in the morning wind: the sun
+    Of noon look'd down, and saw not one.
+
+    Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
+    Bow'd with her fourscore years and ten;
+
+    Bravest of all in Frederick town,
+    She took up the flag the men haul'd down;
+
+    In her attic-window the staff she set,
+    To show that one heart was loyal yet.
+
+    Up the street came the rebel tread,
+    Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
+
+    Under his slouch'd hat left and right
+    He glanced: the old flag met his sight.
+
+    "Halt!"--the dust-brown ranks stood fast
+    "Fire!"--out blazed the rifle-blast.
+
+    It shiver'd the window, pane and sash;
+    It rent the banner with seam and gash.
+
+    Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
+    Dame Barbara snatch'd the silken scarf;
+
+    She lean'd far out on the window-sill,
+    And shook it forth with a royal will.
+
+    "Shoot, if you must, this old grey head,
+    But spare your country's flag!" she said.
+
+    A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
+    Over the face of the leader came;
+
+    The nobler nature within him stirr'd
+    To life at that woman's deed and word:
+
+    "Who touches a hair of yon grey head,
+    Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.
+
+    All day long through Frederick street
+    Sounded the tread of marching feet:
+
+    All day long that free flag toss'd
+    Over the heads of the rebel host.
+
+    Ever its torn folds rose and fell
+    On the loyal winds that lov'd it well;
+
+    And through the hill-gaps sunset light
+    Shone over it with a warm good-night.
+
+    Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
+    And the Rebel rides on his raids no more
+
+    Honor to her! and let a tear
+    Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.
+
+    Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
+    Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!
+
+    Peace and order and beauty draw
+    Round thy symbol of light and law;
+
+    And ever the stars above look down
+    On thy stars below in Frederick town!
+
+
+
+
+LXXVII. CONTENTMENT.
+
+OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.--1809-
+
+_"Man wants but little here below."_
+
+
+    Little I ask; my wants are few;
+      I only wish a hut of stone,
+    (A _very plain_ brown stone will do,)
+      That I may call my own;--
+    And close at hand is such a one,
+    In yonder street that fronts the sun.
+
+    Plain food is quite enough for me;
+      Three courses are as good as ten;--
+    If Nature can subsist on three,
+      Thank Heaven for three. Amen!
+    I always thought cold victual nice;--
+    My _choice_ would be vanilla-ice.
+
+    I care not much for gold or land;--
+      Give me a mortgage here and there,--
+    Some good bank-stock,--some note of hand,
+      Or trifling railroad share,--
+    I only ask that Fortune send
+    A _little_ more than I shall spend.
+
+    Honors are silly toys, I know,
+      And titles are but empty names;
+    I would, _perhaps_, be Plenipo,--
+      But only near St. James;
+    I'm very sure I should not care
+    To fill our Gubernator's chair.
+
+    Jewels are baubles; 'tis a sin
+      To care for such unfruitful things;--
+    One good-sized diamond in a pin,--
+      Some, _not so large_, in rings,--
+    A ruby, and a pearl, or so,
+    Will do for me;--I laugh at show.
+
+    My dame should dress in cheap attire;
+      (Good, heavy silks are never dear;)--
+    I own perhaps I _might_ desire
+      Some shawls of true Cashmere,--
+    Some marrowy crapes of China silk,
+    Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.
+
+    I would not have the horse I drive
+      So fast that folks must stop and stare;
+    An easy gait--two, forty-five--
+      Suits me; I do not care,--
+    Perhaps for just a _single spurt_,
+    Some seconds less would do no hurt.
+
+    Of pictures I should like to own
+      Titians and Raphaels three or four,--
+    I love so much their style and tone,--
+      One Turner, and no more,
+    (A landscape,--foreground golden dirt,--
+    The sunshine painted with a squirt.)
+
+    Of books but few,--some fifty score
+      For daily use, and bound for wear;
+    The rest upon an upper floor;--
+      Some _little_ luxury _there_
+    Of red morocco's gilded gleam,
+    And vellum rich as country cream.
+
+    Busts, cameos, gems,--such things as these,
+      Which others often show for pride,
+    _I_ value for their power to please,
+      And selfish churls deride;--
+    _One_ Stradivarius, I confess,
+    _Two_ Meerschaums, I would fain possess.
+
+    Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn,
+      Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;--
+    Shall not carv'd tables serve my turn,
+      But _all_ must be of buhl?
+    Give grasping pomp its double share,--
+    I ask but _one_ recumbent chair.
+
+    Thus humble let me live and die,
+      Nor long for Midas' golden touch;
+    If Heaven more generous gifts deny,
+      I shall not miss them _much_,--
+    Too grateful for the blessing lent
+    Of simple tastes and mind content.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Flower in the crannied wall,
+    I pluck you out of the crannies;--
+    Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
+    Little flower--but if I could understand
+    What you are, root and all, and all in all,
+    I should know what God and man is._
+
+        TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+LXXVIII. THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
+
+THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE.--1809-
+
+_From_ KIN BEYOND SEA.
+
+
+The Constitution has not been the offspring of the thought of man. The
+Cabinet, and all the present relations of the Constitutional powers in
+this country, have grown into their present dimensions, and settled into
+their present places, not as the fruit of a philosophy, not in the
+effort to give effect to an abstract principle; but by the silent action
+of forces, invisible and insensible, the structure has come up into the
+view of all the world. It is, perhaps, the most conspicuous object on
+the wide political horizon; but it has thus risen, without noise, like
+the temple of Jerusalem.
+
+    "No workman steel, no ponderous hammers rung;
+    Like some tall palm the stately fabric sprung."
+
+When men repeat the proverb which teaches us that "marriages are made in
+heaven," what they mean is that, in the most fundamental of all social
+operations, the building up of the family, the issues involved in the
+nuptial contract, lie beyond the best exercise of human thought, and the
+unseen forces of providential government make good the defect in our
+imperfect capacity. Even so would it seem to have been in that curious
+marriage of competing influences and powers, which brings about the
+composite harmony of the British Constitution. More, it must be
+admitted, than any other, it leaves open doors which lead into blind
+alleys; for it presumes, more boldly than any other, the good sense and
+good faith of those who work it. If, unhappily, these personages meet
+together, on the great arena of a nation's fortunes, as jockeys meet
+upon a racecourse, each to urge to the uttermost, as against the others,
+the power of the animal he rides; or as counsel in a court, each to
+procure the victory of his client, without respect to any other interest
+or right: then this boasted Constitution of ours is neither more nor
+less than a heap of absurdities. The undoubted competency of each
+reaches even to the paralysis or destruction of the rest. The House of
+Commons is entitled to refuse every shilling of the Supplies. That
+House, and also the House of Lords, is entitled to refuse its assent to
+every Bill presented to it. The Crown is entitled to make a thousand
+Peers to-day, and as many to-morrow: it may dissolve all and every
+Parliament before it proceeds to business; may pardon the most atrocious
+crimes; may declare war against all the world; may conclude treaties
+involving unlimited responsibilities, and even vast expenditure, without
+the consent, nay without the knowledge, of Parliament, and this not
+merely in support or in development, but in reversal, of policy already
+known to and sanctioned by the nation. But the assumption is that the
+depositaries of power will all respect one another; will evince a
+consciousness that they are working in a common interest for a common
+end; that they will be possessed, together with not less than an average
+intelligence, of not less than an average sense of equity and of the
+public interest and rights. When these reasonable expectations fail,
+then, it must be admitted, the British Constitution will be in danger.
+
+Apart from such contingencies, the offspring only of folly or of crime,
+this Constitution is peculiarly liable to subtle change. Not only in the
+long-run, as man changes between youth and age, but also, like the human
+body, with a quotidian life, a periodical recurrence of ebbing and
+flowing tides. Its old particles daily run to waste, and give place to
+new. What is hoped among us is, that which has usually been found, that
+evils will become palpable before they have grown to be intolerable....
+
+Meantime, we of this island are not great political philosophers; and we
+contend with an earnest, but disproportioned, vehemence about changes
+which are palpable, such as the extension of the suffrage, or the
+redistribution of Parliamentary seats, neglecting wholly other processes
+of change which work beneath the surface, and in the dark, but which are
+even more fertile of great organic results. The modern English character
+reflects the English Constitution in this, that it abounds in paradox;
+that it possesses every strength, but holds it tainted with every
+weakness; that it seems alternately both to rise above and to fall below
+the standard of average humanity; that there is no allegation of praise
+or blame which, in some one of the aspects of its many-sided formation,
+it does not deserve; that only in the midst of much default, and much
+transgression, the people of this United Kingdom either have heretofore
+established, or will hereafter establish, their title to be reckoned
+among the children of men, for the eldest born of an imperial race.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _It fortifies my soul to know
+    That, though I perish, Truth is so:
+    That, howsoe'er I stray and range,
+    Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change.
+    I steadier step when I recall
+    That, if I slip Thou dost not fall._
+
+        ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
+
+
+
+
+LXXIX. THE LORD OF BURLEIGH.
+
+LORD TENNYSON.--1809-
+
+
+    In her ear he whispers gayly,
+      "If my heart by signs can tell,
+    Maiden, I have watch'd thee daily,
+      And I think thou lov'st me well."
+    She replies, in accents fainter,
+      "There is none I love like thee."
+    He is but a landscape-painter,
+      And a village maiden she.
+    He to lips, that fondly falter,
+      Presses his without reproof:
+    Leads her to the village altar,
+      And they leave her father's roof.
+    "I can make no marriage present;
+      Little can I give my wife.
+    Love will make our cottage pleasant,
+      And I love thee more than life."
+    They by parks and lodges going
+      See the lordly castles stand:
+    Summer woods, about them blowing,
+      Made a murmur in the land.
+    From deep thought himself he rouses
+      Says to her that loves him well,
+    "Let us see these handsome houses
+      Where the wealthy nobles dwell."
+    So she goes by him attended,
+      Hears him lovingly converse,
+    Sees whatever fair and splendid
+      Lay betwixt his home and hers;
+    Parks with oak and chestnut shady,
+      Parks and order'd gardens great,
+    Ancient homes of lord and lady,
+      Built for pleasure and for state.
+    All he shows her makes him dearer:
+      Evermore she seems to gaze
+    On that cottage growing nearer,
+      Where they twain will spend their days.
+    O but she will love him truly!
+      He shall have a cheerful home;
+    She will order all things duly,
+      When beneath his roof they come.
+    Thus her heart rejoices greatly,
+      Till a gateway she discerns
+    With armorial bearings stately,
+      And beneath the gate she turns;
+    Sees a mansion more majestic
+      Than all those she saw before:
+    Many a gallant gay domestic
+      Bows before him at the door.
+    And they speak in gentle murmur,
+      When they answer to his call,
+    While he treads with footsteps firmer,
+      Leading on from hall to hall.
+    And, while now she wonders blindly,
+      Nor the meaning can divine,
+    Proudly turns he round and kindly,
+      "All of this is mine and thine."
+    Here he lives in state and bounty,
+      Lord of Burleigh, fair and free,
+    Not a lord in all the county
+      Is so great a lord as he.
+    All at once the color flushes
+      Her sweet face from brow to chin:
+    As it were with shame she blushes,
+      And her spirit changed within.
+    Then her countenance all over
+      Pale again as death did prove;
+    But he clasp'd her like a lover,
+      And he cheer'd her soul with love.
+    So she strove against her weakness,
+      Tho' at times her spirits sank:
+    Shaped her heart with woman's meekness
+      To all duties of her rank:
+    And a gentle consort made he,
+      And her gentle mind was such
+    That she grew a noble lady,
+      And the people lov'd her much.
+    But a trouble weigh'd upon her,
+    And perplex'd her, night and morn,
+      With the burden of an honor
+    Unto which she was not born.
+      Faint she grew, and ever fainter,
+    As she murmur'd, "O, that he
+      Were once more that landscape-painter,
+    Which did win my heart from me!"
+      So she droop'd and droop'd before him,
+    Fading slowly from his side:
+      Three fair children first she bore him,
+    Then before her time she died.
+      Weeping, weeping late and early,
+    Walking up and pacing down,
+      Deeply mourn'd the Lord of Burleigh,
+    Burleigh-house by Stamford-town.
+      And he came to look upon her,
+    And he look'd at her and said,
+      "Bring the dress and put it on her,
+    That she wore when she was wed."
+      Then her people, softly treading,
+    Bore to earth her body, drest
+      In the dress that she was wed in,
+    That her spirit might have rest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,
+      Am I not richer than of old?_
+
+        WHITTIER.
+
+
+
+
+LXXX. "BREAK, BREAK, BREAK."
+
+LORD TENNYSON.
+
+
+    Break, break, break,
+      On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
+    And I would that my tongue could utter
+      The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+    O well for the fisherman's boy,
+      That he shouts with his sister at play!
+    O well for the sailor lad,
+      That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+    And the stately ships go on
+      To their haven under the hill;
+    But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
+      And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+    Break, break, break,
+      At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
+    But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+      Will never come back to me.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXI. THE "REVENGE."
+
+A BALLAD OF THE FLEET, 1591.
+
+LORD TENNYSON.
+
+
+    At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,
+    And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away:
+    "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!"
+    Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "'Fore God I am no coward!
+    But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear,
+    And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.
+    We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?"
+
+    Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward;
+    You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.
+    But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.
+    I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,
+    To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain."
+
+    So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day,
+    Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven;
+    But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land
+    Very carefully and slow,
+    Men of Bideford in Devon,
+    And we laid them on the ballast down below;
+    For we brought them all aboard,
+    And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain,
+    To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.
+
+    He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight,
+    And he sail'd away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight,
+    With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow.
+    "Shall we fight or shall we fly?
+    Good Sir Richard, let us know,
+    For to fight is but to die!
+    There'll be little of us left by the time the sun be set."
+    And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good Englishmen.
+    Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil,
+    For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet."
+
+    Sir Richard spoke, and he laugh'd, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so
+    The little "Revenge" ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,
+    With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;
+    For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen,
+    And the little "Revenge" ran on thro' the long sea-lane between.
+
+    Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks and
+              laugh'd,
+    Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft
+    Running on and on, till delay'd
+    By their mountain-like "San Philip" that, of fifteen hundred tons,
+    And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns,
+    Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd.
+
+    And while now the great "San Philip" hung above us like a cloud
+    Whence the thunderbolt will fall
+    Long and loud,
+    Four galleons drew away
+    From the Spanish fleet that day,
+    And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay,
+    And the battle-thunder broke from them all.
+
+    But anon the great "San Philip," she bethought herself and went,
+    Having that within her womb that had left her ill-content;
+    And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,
+    For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,
+    And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears
+    When he leaps from the water to the land.
+
+    And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer
+              sea,
+    But never a moment ceas'd the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
+    Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons
+              came,
+    Ship after ship, the whole night long, with their battle-thunder and
+              flame;
+    Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and
+              her shame;
+    For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight us
+              no more--
+    God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?
+    For he said, "Fight on! fight on!"
+    Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck;
+    And it chanced that, when half of the summer night was gone,
+    With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,
+    But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead,
+    And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head,
+    And he said, "Fight on! fight on!"
+
+    And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer
+              sea,
+    And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;
+    But they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still
+              could sting,
+    So they watch'd what the end would be.
+    And we had not fought them in vain,
+    But in perilous plight were we,
+    Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,
+    And half of the rest of us maim'd for life
+    In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;
+    And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,
+    And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it
+              spent;
+    And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;
+    But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,
+    "We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
+    As may never be fought again!
+    We have won great glory, my men!
+    And a day less or more
+    At sea or shore,
+    We die--does it matter when?
+    Sink me the ship, Master Gunner--sink her, split her in twain!
+    Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"
+
+    And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply:
+    "We have children, we have wives,
+    And the Lord hath spared our lives.
+    We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;
+    We shall live to fight again, and to strike another blow."
+    And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.
+
+    And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,
+    Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,
+    And they prais'd him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;
+    But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:
+    "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;
+    I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:
+    With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die!"
+    And he fell upon their decks, and he died.
+
+    And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,
+    And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap,
+    That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;
+    Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,
+    But they sank his body with honor down into the deep,
+    And they mann'd the "Revenge" with a swarthier alien crew,
+    And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own;
+    When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep,
+    And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
+    And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,
+    And a wave like the wave that is rais'd by an earthquake grew,
+    Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and
+              their flags,
+    And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of
+              Spain,
+    And the little "Revenge" herself went down by the island crags
+    To be lost evermore in the main.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _There is no land like England, where'er the light of day be;
+    There are no hearts like English hearts, such hearts of oak as
+              they be._
+
+        TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXII. HERVE RIEL.
+
+ROBERT BROWNING.--1812-
+
+
+    On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two,
+        Did the English fight the French,--woe to France!
+    And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,
+    Like a crowd of frighten'd porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,
+        Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,
+    With the English fleet in view.
+
+    'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase;
+        First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville;
+            Close on him fled, great and small,
+            Twenty-two good ships in all;
+    And they signall'd to the place
+    "Help the winners of a race!
+        Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick;--or, quicker
+              still,
+        Here's the English can and will!"
+
+    Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board:
+        "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?"
+              laugh'd they:
+    "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarr'd and
+              scored,
+    Shall the _Formidable_ here with her twelve and eighty guns
+        Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way,
+    Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,
+            And with flow at full beside?
+            Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide.
+        Reach the mooring? Rather say,
+    While rock stands or water runs,
+        Not a ship will leave the bay!"
+
+    Then was call'd a council straight.
+    Brief and bitter the debate:
+    "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow
+    All that's left us of the fleet, link'd together stern and bow,
+    For a prize to Plymouth Sound?
+    Better run the ships aground!"
+        (Ended Damfreville his speech.)
+    Not a minute more to wait!
+        "Let the captains all and each
+        Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach!
+    France must undergo her fate.
+
+    "Give the word!" But no such word
+    Was ever spoke or heard;
+        For up stood, for out stepp'd, for in struck, amid all these,--
+    A captain? a lieutenant? a mate,--first, second, third?
+        No such man of mark, and meet
+        With his betters to compete!
+        But a simple Breton sailor press'd by Tourville for the fleet,
+    A poor coasting-pilot he,--Herve Riel, the Croisickese.
+
+    And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Herve Riel:
+        "Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues?
+    Talk to me of rocks and shoals?--me, who took the soundings, tell
+    On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell
+        'Twixt the offing here and Greve where the river disembogues?
+    Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for?
+        Morn and eve, night and day,
+        Have I piloted your bay,
+    Enter'd free and anchor'd fast at the foot of Solidor.
+        Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty
+              Hogues!
+            Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's
+              a way!
+    Only let me lead the line,
+        Have the biggest ship to steer,
+        Get this _Formidable_ clear,
+    Make the others follow mine,
+    And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well,
+        Right to Solidor past Greve,
+            And there lay them safe and sound;
+        And if one ship misbehave,--
+            Keel so much as grate the ground,--
+    Why, I've nothing but my life,--here's my head!" cries Herve Riel.
+
+    Not a minute more to wait.
+    "Steer us in, then, small and great!
+        Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its
+              chief.
+    Captains, give the sailor place!
+        He is admiral, in brief.
+    Still the north-wind, by God's grace!
+    See the noble fellow's face
+    As the big ship, with a bound,
+    Clears the entry like a hound,
+    Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound!
+        See, safe through shoal and rock,
+        How they follow in a flock!
+    Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground,
+        Not a spar that comes to grief!
+    The peril, see, is past!
+    All are harbor'd to the last!
+    And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate
+    Up the English come,--too late!
+
+    So, the storm subsides to calm:
+        They see the green trees wave
+        On the heights o'erlooking Greve.
+    Hearts that bled are stanch'd with balm.
+    "Just our rapture to enhance,
+        Let the English rake the bay,
+    Gnash their teeth and glare askance
+        As they cannonade away!
+    'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!"
+    Now hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!
+    Out burst all with one accord,
+        "This is Paradise for Hell!
+            Let France, let France's king,
+            Thank the man that did the thing!"
+    What a shout, and all one word,
+        "Herve Riel!"
+    As he stepp'd in front once more,
+        Not a symptom of surprise
+        In the frank blue Breton eyes,--
+    Just the same man as before.
+
+    Then said Damfreville, "My friend,
+    I must speak out at the end,
+        Though I find the speaking hard.
+    Praise is deeper than the lips;
+    You have saved the king his ships,
+        You must name your own reward.
+    'Faith our sun was near eclipse!
+    Demand whate'er you will,
+    France remains your debtor still.
+    Ask to heart's content, and have! or my name's not Damfreville."
+
+    Then a beam of fun outbroke
+    On the bearded mouth that spoke,
+    As the honest heart laugh'd through
+    Those frank eyes of Breton blue:
+    "Since I needs must say my say,
+        Since on board the duty's done,
+        And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?--
+    Since 'tis ask and have, I may,--
+        Since the others go ashore,--
+    Come! A good whole holiday!
+        Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!"
+        That he ask'd and that he got,--nothing more.
+
+    Name and deed alike are lost:
+    Not a pillar nor a post
+        In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell;
+    Not a head in white and black
+    On a single fishing smack,
+    In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack
+        All that France saved from the fight whence England bore
+              the bell.
+    Go to Paris: rank on rank
+        Search the heroes flung pell-mell
+    On the Louvre, face and flank!
+        You shall look long enough ere you come to Herve Riel.
+    So, for better and for worse,
+    Herve Riel, accept my verse!
+    In my verse, Herve Riel, do thou once more
+    Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _The Summum Pulchrum rests in heaven above;
+      Do thou, as best thou may'st, thy duty do:
+    Amid the things allow'd thee live and love,
+      Some day thou shalt it view._
+
+        ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIII. SONNET.
+
+PRESIDENT WILSON.--1816-
+
+
+    Great things were ne'er begotten in an hour;
+    Ephemerons in birth, are such in life;
+    And he who dareth, in the noble strife
+    Of intellects, to cope for real power,--
+    Such as God giveth as His rarest dower
+    Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,--
+    Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lower
+    Till the long shadows of the night arrive,
+    Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won,
+    Pluck'd from green boughs, soon wither; those that last
+    Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noon
+    And summer's fiery glare in vain are past.
+    Life is the hour of labor; on Earth's breast
+    Serene and undisturb'd shall be thy rest.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIV. OUR IDEAL.
+
+PRESIDENT WILSON.
+
+
+    Did ever on painter's canvas live
+      The power of his fancy's dream?
+    Did ever poet's pen achieve
+      Fruition of his theme?
+    Did marble ever take the life
+      That the sculptor's soul conceiv'd?
+    Or ambition win in passion's strife
+      What its glowing hopes believ'd?
+    Did ever racer's eager feet
+      Rest as he reach'd the goal,
+    Finding the prize achiev'd was meet
+      To satisfy his soul?
+
+
+
+
+LXXXV. FROM THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES.
+
+BENJAMIN JOWETT.--1817-
+
+_From_ THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO.
+
+
+Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for the evil name
+which you will get from the detractors of the city, who will say that
+you killed Socrates, a wise man; for they will call me wise, even
+although I am not wise, when they want to reproach you. If you had
+waited a little while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the
+course of nature. For I am far advanced in years, as you may perceive,
+and not far from death. I am speaking now only to those of you who have
+condemned me to death. And I have another thing to say to them: You
+think that I was convicted through deficiency of words--I mean, that if
+I had thought fit to leave nothing undone, nothing unsaid, I might have
+gained an acquittal. Not so; the deficiency which led to my conviction
+was not of words--certainly not. But I had not the boldness or impudence
+or inclination to address you as you would have liked me to address you,
+weeping and wailing and lamenting, and saying and doing many things
+which you have been accustomed to hear from others, and which, as I say,
+are unworthy of me. But I thought that I ought not to do anything common
+or mean in the hour of danger: nor do I now repent of the manner of my
+defense, and I would rather die having spoken after my manner, than
+speak in your manner and live. For neither in war nor yet at law ought
+any man to use every way of escaping death. For often in battle there is
+no doubt that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees
+before his pursuers, he may escape death; and in other dangers there
+are other ways of escaping death, if a man is willing to say and do
+anything. The difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in
+avoiding unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I am old and
+move slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers are
+keen and quick, and the faster runner, who is unrighteousness, has
+overtaken them. And now I depart hence, condemned by you to suffer the
+penalty of death, and they too go their ways, condemned by the truth to
+suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide by my
+award--let them abide by theirs. I suppose that these things may be
+regarded as fated,--and I think that they are well.
+
+And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you; for
+I am about to die, and that is the hour in which men are gifted with
+prophetic power. And I prophesy to you who are my murderers, that
+immediately after my death punishment far heavier than you have
+inflicted on me will surely await you. Me you have killed because you
+wanted to escape the accuser, and not to give an account of your lives.
+But that will not be as you suppose: far otherwise. For I say that there
+will be more accusers of you than there are now; accusers whom hitherto
+I have restrained: and as they are younger they will be more severe with
+you, and you will be more offended at them. For if you think that by
+killing men you can avoid the accuser censuring your lives, you are
+mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is either possible or
+honorable; the easiest and the noblest way is not to be crushing others,
+but to be improving yourselves. This is the prophecy which I utter
+before my departure to the judges who have condemned me.
+
+Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk with you
+about this thing which has happened, while the magistrates are busy, and
+before I go to the place at which I must die. Stay then a while, for we
+may as well talk with one another while there is time. You are my
+friends, and I should like to show you the meaning of this event which
+has happened to me. O my judges--for you I may truly call judges--I
+should like to tell you of a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the
+familiar oracle within me has constantly been in the habit of opposing
+me even about trifles, if I was going to make a slip or error about
+anything; and now as you see there has come upon me that which may be
+thought, and is generally believed to be, the last and worst evil. But
+the oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I was leaving my house
+and going out in the morning, or when I was going up into this court, or
+while I was speaking, at anything which I was going to say; and yet I
+have often been stopped in the middle of a speech, but now in nothing I
+either said or did touching this matter has the oracle opposed me. What
+do I take to be the explanation of this? I will tell you. I regard this
+as a proof that what has happened to me is a good, and that those of us
+who think that death is an evil are in error. This is a great proof to
+me of what I am saying, for the customary sign would surely have opposed
+me had I been going to evil and not to good.
+
+Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great
+reason to hope that death is a good, for one of two things: either death
+is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say,
+there is a change and migration of the soul from this world to another.
+Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the
+sleep of him who is undisturbed even by the sight of dreams, death will
+be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select the night in
+which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare with
+this the other days and nights of his life, and then were to tell us how
+many days and nights he had passed in the course of his life better and
+more pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a
+private man, but even the great king will not find many such days or
+nights, when compared with the others. Now if death is like this, I say
+that to die is gain; for eternity is then only a single night. But if
+death is the journey to another place, and there, as men say, all the
+dead are, what good, O my friends and judges, can be greater than this?
+If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world below, he is delivered
+from the professors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges
+who are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and, AEacus,
+and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were righteous in their own
+life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. What would not a man give if
+he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod and Homer? Nay, if
+this be true, let me die again and again. I, too, shall have a wonderful
+interest in a place where I can converse with Palamedes, and Ajax the
+son of Telamon, and other heroes of old, who have suffered death through
+an unjust judgment; and there will be no small pleasure, as I think, in
+comparing my own sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall be able to
+continue my search into true and false knowledge; as in this world, so
+also in that; I shall find out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise,
+and is not. What would not a man give, O judges, to be able to examine
+the leader of the great Trojan expedition; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or
+numberless others, men and women too? What infinite delight would there
+be in conversing with them and asking them questions! For in that world
+they do not put a man to death for this; certainly not. For besides
+being happier in that world than in this, they will be immortal, if what
+is said is true.
+
+Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know this of a
+truth--that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after
+death. He and his are not neglected by the gods; nor has my own
+approaching end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that to die
+and be released was better for me; and therefore the oracle gave no
+sign. For which reason, also, I am not angry with my accusers or my
+condemners; they have done me no harm, although neither of them meant to
+do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them.
+
+Still I have a favor to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I would
+ask you, O my friends, to punish them, and I would have you trouble
+them, as I have troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or
+anything, more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be something
+when they are really nothing,--then reprove them, as I have reproved
+you, for not caring about that for which they ought to care, and
+thinking that they are something when they are really nothing. And if
+you do this, I and my sons will have received justice at your hands.
+
+The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways--I to die, and you
+to live. Which is better God only knows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Be of good cheer then, my dear Crito, and say that you
+    are burying my body only._
+
+        _Socrates, in the_ PHAEDO.--PLATO.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVI. THE EMPIRE OF THE CAESARS.
+
+JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE.--1818-
+
+_From_ CAESAR.
+
+
+Of Caesar it may be said that he came into the world at a special time
+and for a special object. The old religions were dead, from the Pillars
+of Hercules to the Euphrates and the Nile, and the principles on which
+human society had been constructed were dead also. There remained of
+spiritual conviction only the common and human sense of justice and
+morality; and out of this sense some ordered system of government had to
+be constructed, under which quiet men could live, and labor, and eat the
+fruit of their industry. Under a rule of this material kind there can be
+no enthusiasm, no chivalry, no saintly aspirations, no patriotism of the
+heroic type. It was not to last forever. A new life was about to dawn
+for mankind. Poetry, and faith, and devotion were to spring again out of
+the seeds which were sleeping in the heart of humanity. But the life
+which is to endure grows slowly; and as the soil must be prepared before
+the wheat can be sown, so before the Kingdom of Heaven could throw up
+its shoots there was needed a kingdom of this world where the nations
+were neither torn in pieces by violence nor were rushing after false
+ideals and spurious ambitions. Such a kingdom was the Empire of the
+Caesars--a kingdom where peaceful men could work, think, and speak as
+they pleased, and travel freely among provinces ruled for the most part
+by Gallios who protected life and property, and forbade fanatics to tear
+each other in pieces for their religious opinions. "It is not lawful for
+us to put any man to death," was the complaint of the Jewish priests to
+the Roman governor. Had Europe and Asia been covered with independent
+nations, each with a local religion represented in its ruling powers,
+Christianity must have been stifled in its cradle. If St. Paul had
+escaped the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem, he would have been torn to pieces by
+the silversmiths at Ephesus. The appeal to Caesar's judgment-seat was the
+shield of his mission, and alone made possible his success.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVII. OF THE MYSTERY OF LIFE.
+
+JOHN RUSKIN--1819-
+
+_From_ SESAME AND LILIES.
+
+
+And now, returning to the broader question what these arts and labors of
+life have to teach us of its mystery, this is the first of their
+lessons--that the more beautiful the art, the more it is essentially the
+work of people who _feel themselves wrong_;--who are striving for the
+fulfilment of a law, and the grasp of a loveliness, which they have not
+yet attained, which they feel even farther and farther from attaining,
+the more they strive for it. And yet, in still deeper sense, it is the
+work of people who know also that they are right. The very sense of
+inevitable error from their purpose marks the perfectness of that
+purpose, and the continued sense of failure arises from the continued
+opening of the eyes more clearly to all the sacredest laws of truth.
+
+This is one lesson. The second is a very plain, and greatly precious
+one, namely:--that whenever the arts and labors of life are fulfilled
+in this spirit of striving against misrule, and doing whatever we have
+to do, honorably and perfectly, they invariably bring happiness, as much
+as seems possible to the nature of man. In all other paths, by which
+that happiness is pursued, there is disappointment, or destruction: for
+ambition and for passion there is no rest--no fruition; the fairest
+pleasures of youth perish in a darkness greater than their past light;
+and the loftiest and purest love too often does but inflame the cloud of
+life with endless fire of pain. But, ascending from lowest to highest,
+through every scale of human industry, that industry worthily followed,
+gives peace. Ask the laborer in the field, at the forge, or in the mine;
+ask the patient, delicate-fingered artisan, or the strong-armed,
+fiery-hearted worker in bronze, and in marble, and with the colors of
+light; and none of these, who are true workmen, will ever tell you, that
+they have found the law of heaven an unkind one--that in the sweat of
+their face they should eat bread, till they return to the ground; nor
+that they ever found it an unrewarded obedience, if, indeed, it was
+rendered faithfully to the command--"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to
+do--do it with thy might."
+
+These are the two great and constant lessons which our laborers teach us
+of the mystery of life. But there is another, and a sadder one, which
+they cannot teach us, which we must read on their tombstones.
+
+"Do it with thy might." There have been myriads upon myriads of
+human creatures who have obeyed this law--who have put every breath
+and nerve of their being into its toil--who have devoted every hour,
+and exhausted every faculty--who have bequeathed their unaccomplished
+thoughts at death--who being dead, have yet spoken, by majesty of
+memory, and strength of example. And, at last, what has all this
+"Might" of humanity accomplished, in six thousand years of labor and
+sorrow? What has it _done_? Take the three chief occupations and arts
+of men, one by one, and count their achievements. Begin with the
+first--the lord of them all--agriculture. Six thousand years have
+passed since we were set to till the ground, from which we were
+taken. How much of it is tilled? How much of that which is, wisely or
+well? In the very centre and chief garden of Europe--where the two
+forms of parent Christianity have had their fortresses--where the
+noble Catholics of the Forest Cantons, and the noble Protestants of
+the Vaudois valleys, have maintained, for dateless ages, their faiths
+and liberties--there the unchecked Alpine rivers yet run wild in
+devastation: and the marshes, which a few hundred men could redeem
+with a year's labor, still blast their helpless inhabitants into
+fevered idiotism. That is so, in the centre of Europe! While, on the
+near coast of Africa, once the Garden of the Hesperides, an Arab
+woman, but a few sunsets since, ate her child, for famine. And, with
+all the treasures of the East at our feet, we, in our own dominion,
+could not find a few grains of rice, for a people that asked of us
+no more; but stood by, and saw five hundred thousand of them perish
+of hunger.
+
+Then, after agriculture, the art of kings, take the next head of human
+arts--weaving; the art of queens, honored of all noble Heathen women, in
+the person of their virgin goddess--honored of all Hebrew women, by the
+word of their wisest king--"She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her
+hands hold the distaff; she stretcheth out her hand to the poor. She is
+not afraid of the snow for her household, for all her household are
+clothed with scarlet. She maketh herself covering of tapestry, her
+clothing is silk and purple. She maketh fine linen, and selleth it, and
+delivereth girdles to the merchant." What have we done in all these
+thousands of years with this bright art of Greek maid and Christian
+matron? Six thousand years of weaving, and have we learned to weave?
+Might not every naked wall have been purple with tapestry, and every
+feeble breast fenced with sweet colors from the cold? What have we done?
+Our fingers are too few, it seems, to twist together some poor covering
+for our bodies. We set our streams to work for us, and choke the air
+with fire, to turn our spinning-wheels,--and--_are we yet clothed_? Are
+not the streets of the capitals of Europe foul with the sale of cast
+clouts and rotten rags? Is not the beauty of your sweet children left in
+wretchedness of disgrace, while, with better honor, nature clothes the
+brood of the bird in its nest, and the suckling of the wolf in her den?
+And does not every winter's snow robe what you have not robed, and
+shroud what you have not shrouded; and every winter's wind bear up to
+heaven its wasted souls, to witness against you hereafter, by the voice
+of their Christ,--"I was naked, and ye clothed me not"?
+
+Lastly--take the Art of Building--the strongest-proudest--most
+orderly--most enduring of the arts of man, that of which the produce is
+in the surest manner accumulative, and need not perish, or be replaced;
+but if once well done will stand more strongly than the unbalanced
+rocks--more prevalently than the crumbling hills. The art which is
+associated with all civic pride and sacred principle; with which men
+record their power--satisfy their enthusiasm--make sure their
+defence--define and make dear their habitation. And, in six thousand
+years of building, what have we done? Of the greater part of all that
+skill and strength, _no_ vestige is left, but fallen stones, that
+encumber the fields and impede the streams. But from this waste of
+disorder, and of time, and of rage, what _is_ left to us? Constructive
+and progressive creatures, that we are, with ruling brains, and forming
+hands; capable of fellowship, and thirsting for fame, can we not
+contend, in comfort, with the insects of the forest, or, in achievement,
+with the worm of the sea? The white surf rages in vain against the
+ramparts built by poor atoms of scarcely nascent life; but only ridges
+of formless ruin mark the places where once dwelt our noblest
+multitudes. The ant and the moth have cells for each of their young, but
+our little ones lie in festering heaps, in homes that consume them like
+graves; and night by night, from the corners of our streets, rises up
+the cry of the homeless--"I was a stranger, and ye took me not in."
+
+Must it be always thus? Is our life forever to be without
+profit--without possession? Shall the strength of its generations be as
+barren as death; or cast away their labor, as the wild fig-tree casts
+her untimely figs? Is it all a dream then--the desire of the eyes and
+the pride of life--or, if it be, might we not live in nobler dream than
+this? The poets and prophets, the wise men, and the scribes, though they
+have told us nothing about a life to come, have told us much about the
+life that is now. They have had--they also,--their dreams, and we have
+laughed at them. They have dreamed of mercy, and of justice; they have
+dreamed of peace and good-will; they have dreamed of labor
+undisappointed, and of rest undisturbed; they have dreamed of fulness in
+harvest, and overflowing in store; they have dreamed of wisdom in
+council, and of providence in law; of gladness of parents, and strength
+of children, and glory of gray hairs. And at these visions of theirs we
+have mocked, and held them for idle and vain, unreal and
+unaccomplishable. What have we accomplished with our realities? Is this
+what has come of our worldly wisdom, tried against their folly? this our
+mightiest possible, against their impotent ideal? or have we only
+wandered among the spectra of a baser felicity, and chased phantoms of
+the tombs, instead of visions of the Almighty; and walked after the
+imaginations of our evil hearts, instead of after the counsels of
+Eternity, until our lives--not in the likeness of the cloud of heaven,
+but of the smoke of hell--have become "as a vapor, that appeareth for a
+little time, and then vanisheth away"?
+
+_Does_ it vanish then? Are you sure of that?--sure, that the nothingness
+of the grave will be a rest from this troubled nothingness; and that the
+coiling shadow, which disquiets itself in vain, cannot change into the
+smoke of the torment that ascends forever? Will any answer that they
+_are_ sure of it, and that there is no fear, nor hope, nor desire, nor
+labor, whither they go? Be it so; will you not, then, make as sure of
+the Life, that now is, as you are of the Death that is to come? Your
+hearts are wholly in this world--will you not give them to it wisely,
+as well as perfectly? And see, first of all, that you _have_ hearts,
+and sound hearts, too, to give. Because you have no heaven to look
+for, is that any reason that you should remain ignorant of this
+wonderful and infinite earth, which is firmly and instantly given you
+in possession? Although your days are numbered, and the following
+darkness sure, is it necessary that you should share the degradation
+of the brute, because you are condemned to its mortality; or live the
+life of the moth, and of the worm, because you are to companion them
+in the dust? Not so; we may have but a few thousands of days to
+spend, perhaps hundreds only--perhaps tens; nay, the longest of our
+time and best, looked back on, will be but as a moment, as the
+twinkling of an eye; still, we are men, not insects; we are living
+spirits, not passing clouds. "He maketh the winds His messengers; the
+momentary fire, His minister;" and shall we do less than _these_? Let
+us do the work of men while we bear the form of them; and, as we
+snatch our narrow portion of time out of Eternity, snatch also our
+narrow inheritance of passion out of Immortality--even though our
+lives _be_ as a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then
+vanisheth away.
+
+But there are some of you who believe not this--who think this cloud of
+life has no such close--that it is to float, revealed and illumined,
+upon the floor of heaven, in the day when He cometh with clouds, and
+every eye shall see Him. Some day, you believe, within these five, or
+ten, or twenty years, for every one of us the judgment will be set, and
+the books opened. If that be true, far more than that must be true. Is
+there but one day of judgment? Why, for us every day is a day of
+judgment--every day is a Dies Irae, and writes its irrevocable verdict in
+the flame of its West. Think you that judgment waits till the doors of
+the grave are opened? It waits at the doors of your houses--it waits at
+the corners of your streets; we are in the midst of judgment--the
+insects that we crush are our judges--the moments we fret away are our
+judges--the elements that feed us, judge, as they minister--and the
+pleasures that deceive us, judge as they indulge. Let us, for our lives,
+do the work of Men while we bear the Form of them, if indeed those lives
+are _Not_ as a vapor, and do _Not_ vanish away.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVIII. THE ROBIN.
+
+JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.--1819-
+
+_From_ MY GARDEN ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+
+The return of the robin is commonly announced by the newspapers, like
+that of eminent or notorious people to a watering-place, as the first
+authentic notification of spring. And such his appearance in the orchard
+and garden undoubtedly is. But, in spite of his name of migratory
+thrush, he stays with us all winter, and I have seen him when the
+thermometer marked 15 degrees below zero of Fahrenheit, armed
+impregnably within, like Emerson's Titmouse, and as cheerful as he. The
+robin has a bad reputation among people who do not value themselves less
+for being fond of cherries. There is, I admit, a spice of vulgarity in
+him, and his song is rather of the Bloomfield sort, too largely
+ballasted with prose. His ethics are of the Poor Richard school, and the
+main chance which calls forth all his energy is altogether of the belly.
+He never has those fine intervals of lunacy into which his cousins, the
+catbird and the mavis, are apt to fall. But for a' that and twice as
+muckle 's a' that, I would not exchange him for all the cherries that
+ever came out of Asia Minor. With whatever faults, he has not wholly
+forfeited that superiority which belongs to the children of nature. He
+has a finer taste in fruit than could be distilled from many successive
+committees of the Horticultural Society, and he eats with a relishing
+gulp not inferior to Dr. Johnson's. He feels and freely exercises his
+right of eminent domain. His is the earliest mess of green peas; his all
+the mulberries I had fancied mine. But if he get also the lion's share
+of the raspberries, he is a great planter, and sows those wild ones in
+the woods, that solace the pedestrian and give a momentary calm even to
+the jaded victims of the White Hills. He keeps a strict eye over one's
+fruit, and knows to a shade of purple when your grapes have cooked long
+enough in the sun. During a severe drought a few years ago, the robins
+wholly vanished from my garden. I neither saw nor heard one for three
+weeks. Meanwhile a small foreign grape-vine, rather shy of bearing,
+seemed to find the dusty air congenial, and, dreaming perhaps of its
+sweet Argos across the sea, decked itself, with a score or so of fair
+bunches. I watched them from day to day till they should have secreted
+sugar enough from the sunbeams, and at last made up my mind that I would
+celebrate my vintage the next morning. But the robins too had somehow
+kept note of them. They must have sent out spies, as did the Jews into
+the promised land, before I was stirring. When I went with my basket, at
+least a dozen of these winged vintagers bustled out from among the
+leaves, and alighting on the nearest trees interchanged some shrill
+remarks about me of a derogatory nature. They had fairly sacked the
+vine. Not Wellington's veterans made cleaner work of a Spanish town; not
+Federals or Confederates were ever more impartial in the confiscation of
+neutral chickens. I was keeping my grapes a secret to surprise the fair
+Fidele with, but the robins made them a profounder secret to her than I
+had meant. The tattered remnant of a single bunch was all my
+harvest-home. How paltry it looked at the bottom of my basket,--as if a
+humming-bird had laid her egg in an eagle's nest! I could not help
+laughing; and the robins seemed to join heartily in the merriment. There
+was a native grape-vine close by, blue with its less refined abundance,
+but my cunning thieves preferred the foreign flavor. Could I tax them
+with want of taste?
+
+The robins are not good solo singers, but their chorus, as, like
+primitive fire-worshippers, they hail the return of light and warmth
+to the world, is unrivalled. There are a hundred singing like one.
+They are noisy enough then, and sing, as poets should, with no
+afterthought. But when they come after cherries to the tree near my
+window, they muffle their voices, and their faint _pip, pip, pop_!
+sounds far away at the bottom of the garden, where they know I shall
+not suspect them of robbing the great black-walnut of its
+bitter-rinded store.[P] They are feathered Pecksniffs, to be sure,
+but then how brightly their breasts, that look rather shabby in the
+sunlight, shine in a rainy day against the dark green of the
+fringe-tree! After they have pinched and shaken all the life out of
+an earthworm, as Italian cooks pound all the spirit out of a steak,
+and then gulped him, they stand up in honest self-confidence, expand
+their red waistcoats with the virtuous air of a lobby member, and
+outface you with an eye that calmly challenges inquiry. "Do _I_ look
+like a bird that knows the flavor of raw vermin? I throw myself upon
+a jury of my peers. Ask any robin if he ever ate anything less
+ascetic than the frugal berry of the juniper, and he will answer that
+his vow forbids him." Can such an open bosom cover such depravity?
+Alas, yes! I have no doubt his breast was redder at that very moment
+with the blood of my raspberries. On the whole, he is a doubtful
+friend in the garden. He makes his dessert of all kinds of berries,
+and is not averse from early pears. But when we remember how
+omnivorous he is, eating his own weight in an incredibly short time,
+and that Nature seems exhaustless in her invention of new insects
+hostile to vegetation, perhaps we may reckon that he does more good
+than harm. For my own part, I would rather have his cheerfulness and
+kind neighborhood than many berries.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[P] The screech-owl, whose cry, despite his ill name, is one of the
+sweetest sounds in nature, softens his voice in the same way with the
+most beguiling mockery of distance.--AUTHOR'S NOTE.
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIX. THE OLD CRADLE.
+
+FREDERICK LOCKER.--1821-
+
+
+    And this was your Cradle? Why, surely, my Jenny,
+      Such cosy dimensions go clearly to show
+    You were an exceedingly small pickaninny
+      Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago.
+
+    Your baby-days flow'd in a much-troubled channel;
+      I see you, as then, in your impotent strife,
+    A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
+      Perplex'd with the newly-found fardel of Life.
+
+    To hint at an infantile frailty's a scandal;
+      Let bygones be bygones, for somebody knows
+    It was bliss such a Baby to dance and to dandle,--
+      Your cheeks were so dimpled, so rosy your toes.
+
+    Ay, here is your Cradle; and Hope, a bright spirit,
+      With Love now is watching beside it, I know.
+    They guard the wee nest it was yours to inherit
+      Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago.
+
+    It is Hope gilds the future, Love welcomes it smiling,
+      Thus wags this old world, therefore stay not to ask,
+    "My future bids fair, is my future beguiling?"
+      If mask'd, still it pleases--then raise not its mask.
+
+    Is Life a poor coil some would gladly be doffing?
+      He is riding post-haste who their wrongs will adjust;
+    For at most 'tis a footstep from cradle to coffin--
+      From a spoonful of pap to a mouthful of dust.
+
+    Then smile as your future is smiling, my Jenny;
+      I see you, except for those infantine woes,
+    Little changed since you were but a small pickaninny--
+      Your cheeks were so dimpled, so rosy your toes!
+
+    Ay, here is your Cradle, much, much to my liking,
+      Though nineteen or twenty long winters have sped.
+    Hark! As I'm talking there's six o'clock striking,--
+      It is time JENNY'S BABY should be in its bed.
+
+
+
+
+XC. RUGBY CHAPEL.
+
+NOVEMBER, 1857.
+
+MATTHEW ARNOLD.--1822-
+
+
+    Coldly, sadly descends
+    The autumn-evening. The field
+    Strewn with its dank yellow drifts
+    Of wither'd leaves, and the elms,
+    Fade into dimness apace,
+    Silent;--hardly a shout
+    From a few boys late at their play!
+    The lights come out in the street,
+    In the school-room windows--but cold,
+    Solemn, unlighted, austere,
+    Through the gathering darkness, arise
+    The chapel-walls, in whose bound
+    Thou, my father! art laid.
+
+    There thou dost lie, in the gloom
+    Of the autumn evening. But ah!
+    That word, _gloom_, to my mind
+    Brings thee back in the light
+    Of thy radiant vigor again:
+    In the gloom of November we pass'd
+    Days not dark at thy side;
+    Seasons impair'd not the ray
+    Of thy buoyant cheerfulness clear.
+    Such thou wast! and I stand
+    In the autumn evening, and think
+    Of bygone autumns with thee.
+
+    Fifteen years have gone round
+    Since thou arosest to tread,
+    In the summer-morning, the road
+    Of death, at a call unforeseen,
+    Sudden. For fifteen years,
+    We who till then in thy shade
+    Rested as under the boughs
+    Of a mighty oak, have endured
+    Sunshine and rain as we might,
+    Bare, unshaded, alone,
+    Lacking the shelter of thee.
+
+    O strong soul, by what shore
+    Tarriest thou now? For that force,
+    Surely, has not been left vain!
+    Somewhere, surely, afar,
+    In the sounding labor-house vast
+    Of being, is practis'd that strength,
+    Zealous, beneficent, firm!
+    Yes, in some far-shining sphere,
+    Conscious or not of the past,
+    Still thou performest the word
+    Of the Spirit in whom thou dost live--
+    Prompt, unwearied, as here!
+    Still thou upraisest with zeal
+    The humble good from the ground,
+    Sternly repressest the bad!
+    Still, like a trumpet, dost rouse
+    Those who with half-open eyes
+    Tread the border-land dim
+    'Twixt vice and virtue; reviv'st,
+    Succorest!--this was thy work.
+    This was thy life upon earth.
+
+    What is the course of the life
+    Of mortal men on the earth?--
+    Most men eddy about
+    Here and there--eat and drink,
+    Chatter and love and hate,
+    Gather and squander, are rais'd
+    Aloft, are hurl'd in the dust,
+    Striving blindly, achieving
+    Nothing; and then they die--
+    Perish--and no one asks
+    Who or what they have been,
+    More than he asks what waves,
+    In the moonlit solitudes mild
+    Of the midmost Ocean, have swell'd,
+    Foam'd for a moment, and gone.
+
+    And there are some, whom a thirst
+    Ardent, unquenchable, fires,
+    Not with the crowd to be spent,
+    Not without aim to go round
+    In an eddy of purposeless dust
+    Effort unmeaning and vain.
+    Ah yes! some of us strive
+    Not without action to die
+    Fruitless, but something to snatch
+    From dull oblivion, nor all
+    Glut the devouring grave!
+    We, we have chosen our path--
+    Path to a clear-purpos'd goal,
+    Path of advance!--but it leads
+    A long, steep journey, through sunk
+    Gorges, o'er mountains in snow.
+    Cheerful, with friends, we set forth--
+    Then, on the height, comes the storm.
+    Thunder crashes from rock
+    To rock, the cataracts reply;
+    Lightnings dazzle our eyes;
+    Roaring torrents have breach'd
+    The track, the stream-bed descends
+    In the place where the wayfarer once
+    Planted his footstep--the spray
+    Boils o'er its borders! aloft
+    The unseen snow-beds dislodge
+    Their hanging ruin!--alas,
+    Havoc is made in our train!
+    Friends, who set forth at our side,
+    Falter, are lost in the storm.
+    We, we only are left!--
+    With frowning foreheads, with lips
+    Sternly compress'd, we strain on
+    On--and at nightfall at last
+    Come to the end of our way,
+    To the lonely inn 'mid the rocks;
+    Where the gaunt and taciturn host
+    Stands on the threshold, the wind
+    Shaking his thin white hairs--
+    Holds his lantern to scan
+    Our storm-beat figures, and asks:
+    Whom in our party we bring?
+    Whom we have left in the snow?
+
+    Sadly we answer: We bring
+    Only ourselves! we lost
+    Sight of the rest in the storm.
+    Hardly ourselves we fought through,
+    Stripp'd, without friends, as we are.
+    Friends, companions, and train,
+    The avalanche swept from our side.
+
+    But thou would'st not _alone_
+    Be saved, my father! _alone_
+    Conquer and come to thy goal,
+    Leaving the rest in the wild.
+    We were weary; and we
+    Fearful, and we in our march
+    Fain to drop down and to die.
+    Still thou turnedst, and still
+    Beckonedst the trembler, and still
+    Gavest the weary thy hand.
+    If, in the paths of the world,
+    Stones might have wounded thy feet,
+    Toil or dejection have tried
+    Thy spirit, of that we saw
+    Nothing--to us thou wast still
+    Cheerful, and helpful, and firm!
+    Therefore to thee it was given
+    Many to save with thyself;
+    And, at the end of thy day,
+    O faithful shepherd! to come,
+    Bringing thy sheep in thy hand,
+    And through thee I believe
+    In the noble and great who are gone;
+    Pure souls honor'd and blest
+    By former ages, who else--
+    Such, so soulless, so poor,
+    Is the race of men whom I see--
+    Seem'd but a dream of the heart,
+    Seem'd but a cry of desire.
+    Yes! I believe that there liv'd
+    Others like thee in the past,
+    Not like the men of the crowd
+    Who all round me to-day
+    Bluster or cringe, and make life
+    Hideous, and arid, and vile;
+    But souls temper'd with fire,
+    Fervent, heroic, and good,
+    Helpers and friends of mankind.
+
+    Servants of God!--or sons
+    Shall I not call you? because
+    Not as servants ye knew
+    Your Father's innermost mind,
+    His, who unwillingly sees
+    One of his little ones lost--
+    Yours is the praise, if mankind
+    Hath not as yet in its march
+    Fainted, and fallen, and died!
+
+    See! In the rocks of the world
+    Marches the host of mankind,
+    A feeble, wavering line.
+    Where are they tending?--A God
+    Marshall'd them, gave them their goal.--
+    Ah, but the way is so long!
+
+    Years they have been in the wild!
+    Sore thirst plagues them, the rocks,
+    Rising all round, overawe;
+    Factions divide them, their host
+    Threatens to break, to dissolve.--
+    Ah, keep, keep them combined!
+    Else, of the myriads who fill
+    That army, not one shall arrive;
+    Sole they shall stray; on the rocks
+    Batter forever in vain,
+    Die one by one in the waste.
+
+    Then, in such hour of need
+    Of your fainting, dispirited race,
+    Ye, like angels, appear,
+    Radiant with ardor divine.
+    Beacons of hope, ye appear!
+    Languor is not in your heart,
+    Weakness is not in your word,
+    Weariness not on your brow.
+    Ye alight in our van! at your voice,
+    Panic, despair, flee away.
+    Ye move through the ranks, recall
+    The stragglers, refresh the outworn,
+    Praise, re-inspire the brave.
+    Order, courage, return;
+    Eyes rekindling, and prayers,
+    Follow your steps as ye go.
+    Ye fill up the gaps in our files,
+    Strengthen the wavering line,
+    Stablish, continue our march,
+    On, to the bound of the waste,
+    On, to the City of God.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _What know we greater than the soul?
+    On God and Godlike men we build our trust._
+
+        TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+XCI. IN THE ORILLIA WOODS.
+
+CHARLES SANGSTER.--1822-
+
+
+      My footsteps press where, centuries ago,
+      The Red Men fought and conquer'd; lost and won.
+      Whole tribes and races, gone like last year's snow,
+      Have found the Eternal Hunting-Grounds, and run
+      The fiery gauntlet of their active days,
+      Till few are left to tell the mournful tale:
+      And these inspire us with such wild amaze
+      They seem like spectres passing down a vale
+      Steep'd in uncertain moonlight, on their way
+      Towards some bourn where darkness blinds the day,
+      And night is wrapp'd in mystery profound.
+      We cannot lift the mantle of the past:
+      We seem to wander over hallow'd ground:
+    We scan the trail of Thought, but all is overcast.
+
+      THERE WAS A TIME--and that is all we know!
+      No record lives of their ensanguin'd deeds:
+      The past seems palsied with some giant blow,
+      And grows the more obscure on what it feeds.
+      A rotted fragment of a human leaf;
+      A few stray skulls; a heap of human bones!
+      These are the records--the traditions brief--
+      'Twere easier far to read the speechless stones.
+      The fierce Ojibwas, with tornado force,
+      Striking white terror to the hearts of braves!
+      The mighty Hurons, rolling on their course,
+      Compact and steady as the ocean waves!
+      The fiery Iroquois, a warrior host!
+    Who were they?--Whence?--And why? no human tongue can boast!
+
+
+
+
+XCII. MORALS AND CHARACTER IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
+
+GOLDWIN SMITH.--1823-
+
+_From_ COWPER.
+
+
+The world into which Cowper came was one very adverse to him, and at the
+same time very much in need of him. It was a world from which the spirit
+of poetry seemed to have fled. There could be no stronger proof of this
+than the occupation of the throne of Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton,
+by the arch-versifier Pope. The Revolution of 1688 was glorious, but
+unlike the Puritan Revolution which it followed, and in the political
+sphere partly ratified, it was profoundly prosaic. Spiritual religion,
+the source of Puritan grandeur and of the poetry of Milton, was almost
+extinct; there was not much more of it among the Nonconformists, who had
+now become to a great extent mere Whigs, with a decided Unitarian
+tendency. The Church was little better than a political force cultivated
+and manipulated by political leaders for their own purposes. The Bishops
+were either politicians, or theological polemics collecting trophies of
+victory over free-thinkers as titles to higher preferment. The inferior
+clergy as a body were far nearer in character to Trulliber than to Dr.
+Primrose; coarse, sordid, neglectful of their duties, shamelessly
+addicted to sinecurism and pluralities, fanatics in their Toryism and in
+attachment to their corporate privileges, cold, rationalistic, and
+almost heathen in their preachings, if they preached at all. The society
+of the day is mirrored in the pictures of Hogarth in the works of
+Fielding and Smollett; hard and heartless polish was the best of it; and
+not a little of it was _Marriage a la Mode_. Chesterfield, with his
+soulless culture, his court graces, and his fashionable immoralities,
+was about the highest type of an English gentleman; but the Wilkeses,
+Potters, and Sandwiches, whose mania for vice culminated in the
+Hell-fire Club, were more numerous than the Chesterfields. Among the
+country squires, for one Allworthy, or Sir Roger de Coverley, there were
+many Westerns. Among the common people religion was almost extinct, and
+assuredly no new morality or sentiment, such as Positivists now promise,
+had taken its place. Sometimes the rustic thought for himself, and
+scepticism took formal possession of his mind; but as we see from one of
+Cowper's letters, it was a coarse scepticism which desired to be buried
+with its hounds. Ignorance and brutality reigned in the cottage.
+Drunkenness reigned in palace and cottage alike. Gambling,
+cock-fighting, and bull-fighting were the amusements of the people.
+Political life, which, if it had been pure and vigorous, might have made
+up for the absence of spiritual influences, was corrupt from the top of
+the scale to the bottom: its effect on national character is portrayed
+in Hogarth's _Election_. That property had its duties as well as its
+rights, nobody had yet ventured to say or think. The duty of a gentleman
+towards his own class was to pay his debts of honor, and to fight a duel
+whenever he was challenged by one of his own order; towards the lower
+class his duty was none. Though the forms of government were elective,
+and Cowper gives us a description of the candidate at election time
+obsequiously soliciting votes, society was intensely aristocratic, and
+each rank was divided from that below it by a sharp line which precluded
+brotherhood or sympathy. Says the Duchess of Buckingham to Lady
+Huntingdon, who had asked her to come and hear Whitefield, "I thank
+your ladyship for the information concerning the Methodist preachers;
+their doctrines are most repulsive, and strongly tinctured with
+disrespect towards their superiors, in perpetually endeavoring to level
+all ranks and do away with all distinctions. It is monstrous to be told
+you have a heart as sinful as the common wretches that crawl on the
+earth. This is highly offensive and insulting; and I cannot but wonder
+that your ladyship should relish any sentiments so much at variance with
+high rank and good breeding. I shall be most happy to come and hear your
+favorite preacher." Her Grace's sentiments towards the common wretches
+that crawl on the earth were shared, we may be sure, by her Grace's
+waiting-maid. Of humanity there was as little as there was of religion.
+It was the age of the criminal law which hanged men for petty thefts, of
+life-long imprisonment for debt, of the stocks and the pillory, of a
+Temple Bar garnished with the heads of traitors, of the unreformed
+prison system, of the press-gang, of unrestrained tyranny and savagery
+at public schools. That the slave trade was iniquitous hardly any one
+suspected; even men who deemed themselves religious took part in it
+without scruple. But a change was at hand, and a still mightier change
+was in prospect. At the time of Cowper's birth, John Wesley was
+twenty-eight, and Whitefield was seventeen. With them the revival of
+religion, was at hand. Johnson, the moral reformer, was twenty-two.
+Howard was born, and in less than a generation Wilberforce was to come.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _That is best blood that hath most iron in 't
+    To edge resolve with, pouring without stint
+      For what makes manhood dear._
+
+        JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+
+
+XCIII. A LIBERAL EDUCATION.
+
+THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY.--1825-
+
+_From_ LAY SERMONS, ADDRESSES, AND REVIEWS.
+
+
+Suppose it were perfectly certain that the life and fortune of every one
+of us would, one day or other, depend upon his winning or losing a game
+at chess. Don't you think that we should all consider it to be a primary
+duty to learn at least the names and the moves of the pieces; to have a
+notion of a gambit, and a keen eye for all the means of giving and
+getting out of check? Do you not think that we should look with a
+disapprobation amounting to scorn, upon the father who allowed his son,
+or the state which allowed its members, to grow up without knowing a
+pawn from a knight?
+
+Yet it is a very plain and elementary truth, that the life, the
+fortune, and the happiness of every one of us, and, more or less,
+of those who are connected with us, do depend upon our knowing
+something of the rules of a game infinitely more difficult and
+complicated than chess. It is a game which has been played for
+untold ages, every man and woman of us being one of the two players
+in a game of his or her own. The chess-board is the world, the
+pieces are the phenomena of the universe, the rules of the game are
+what we call the laws of Nature. The player on the other side is
+hidden from us. We know that his play is always fair, just, and
+patient. But also we know, to our cost, that he never overlooks a
+mistake, or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance. To the man
+who plays well, the highest stakes are paid, with that sort of
+overflowing generosity with which the strong shows delight in
+strength. And one who plays ill is checkmated--without haste, but
+without remorse.
+
+My metaphor will remind some of you of the famous picture in which
+Retzsch has depicted Satan playing at chess with man for his soul.
+Substitute for the mocking fiend in that picture, a calm, strong angel,
+who is playing for love, as we say, and would rather lose than win--and
+I should accept it as an image of human life.
+
+Well, what I mean by Education, is learning the rules of this mighty
+game. In other words, education is the instruction of the intellect in
+the laws of Nature, under which name I include not merely things and
+their forces, but men and their ways; and the fashioning of the
+affections and of the will into an earnest and loving desire to move in
+harmony with those laws. For me, education means neither more nor less
+than this. Anything which professes to call itself education must be
+tried by this standard, and if it fails to stand the test, I will not
+call it education, whatever may be the force of authority, or of
+numbers, upon the other side.
+
+It is important to remember that, in strictness, there is no such thing
+as an uneducated man. Take an extreme case. Suppose that an adult man,
+in the full vigor of his faculties, could be suddenly placed in the
+world, as Adam is said to have been, and then left to do as he best
+might. How long would he be left uneducated? Not five minutes. Nature
+would begin to teach him, through the eye, the ear, the touch, the
+properties of objects. Pain and pleasure would be at his elbow telling
+him to do this and avoid that; and by slow degrees the man would receive
+an education, which, if narrow, would be thorough, real, and adequate to
+his circumstances, though there would be no extras and very few
+accomplishments.
+
+And if to this solitary man entered a second Adam, or, better still, an
+Eve, a new and greater world, that of social and moral phenomena, would
+be revealed. Joys and woes, compared with which all others might seem
+but faint shadows, would spring from the new relations. Happiness and
+sorrow would take the place of the coarser monitors, pleasure and pain;
+but conduct would still be shaped by the observation of the natural
+consequences of actions; or, in other words, by the laws of the nature
+of man.
+
+To every one of us the world was once as fresh and new as to Adam. And
+then, long before we were susceptible of any other mode of instruction,
+Nature took us in hand, and every minute of waking life brought its
+educational influence, shaping our actions into rough accordance with
+Nature's laws, so that we might not be ended untimely by too gross
+disobedience. Nor should I speak of this process of education as past
+for any one, be he as old as he may. For every man, the world is as
+fresh as it was at the first day, and as full of untold novelties for
+him who has the eyes to see them. And Nature is still continuing her
+patient education of us in that great university, the universe, of which
+we are all members--Nature having no Test-Acts.
+
+Those who take honors in Nature's university, who learn the laws which
+govern men and things, and obey them, are the really great and
+successful men in this world. The great mass of mankind are the "Poll,"
+who pick up just enough to get through without much discredit. Those who
+won't learn at all are plucked; and then you can't come up again.
+Nature's pluck means extermination.
+
+Thus the question of compulsory education is settled so far as Nature is
+concerned. Her bill on that question was framed and passed long ago.
+But, like all compulsory legislation, that of Nature is harsh and
+wasteful in its operation. Ignorance is visited as sharply as wilful
+disobedience--incapacity meets with the same punishment as crime.
+Nature's discipline is not even a word and a blow, and the blow first;
+but the blow without the word. It is left to you to find out why your
+ears are boxed.
+
+The object of what we commonly call education--that education in which
+man intervenes and which I shall distinguish as artificial education--is
+to make good these defects in Nature's methods; to prepare the child to
+receive Nature's education, neither incapably nor ignorantly, nor with
+wilful disobedience; and to understand the preliminary symptoms of her
+displeasure, without waiting for the box on the ear. In short, all
+artificial education ought to be an anticipation of natural education.
+And a liberal education is an artificial education, which has not only
+prepared a man to escape the great evils of disobedience to natural
+laws, but has trained him to appreciate and to seize upon the rewards
+which Nature scatters with as free a hand as her penalties.
+
+That man, I think, has had a liberal education, who has been so trained
+in youth that his body is the ready servant of his will, and does with
+ease and pleasure all the work that, as a mechanism, it is capable of;
+whose intellect is a clear, cold, logic engine, with all its parts of
+equal strength, and in smooth working order; ready, like a steam engine,
+to be turned to any kind of work, and spin the gossamers as well as
+forge the anchors of the mind; whose mind is stored with a knowledge of
+the great and fundamental truths of Nature and of the laws of her
+operations; one, who, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, but
+whose passions are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will, the
+servant of a tender conscience; who has learned to love all beauty,
+whether of Nature or of art, to hate all vileness, and to respect others
+as himself.
+
+Such an one and no other, I conceive, has had a liberal education; for
+he is, as completely as a man can be, in harmony with Nature. He will
+make the best of her, and she of him. They will get on together rarely;
+she as his ever beneficent mother; he as her mouth-piece, her conscious
+self, her minister and interpreter.
+
+
+
+
+XCIV. TOO LATE.
+
+DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK.--1826-
+
+
+    Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
+      In the old likeness that I knew,
+    I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
+      Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+    Never a scornful word should grieve ye,
+      I'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do,--
+    Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,
+      Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+    O to call back the days that are not!
+      My eyes were blinded, your words were few;
+    Do you know the truth now up in heaven,
+      Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?
+
+    I never was worthy of you, Douglas,
+      Not half worthy the like of you;
+    Now all men beside seem to me like shadows,--
+      I love _you_, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+    Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,
+      Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew,
+    As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,
+      Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+
+
+
+XCV. AMOR MUNDI.
+
+CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI.--1830-
+
+
+    "O where are you going with your love-locks flowing,
+      On the west wind blowing along this valley track?"
+    "The down-hill path is easy, come with me an it please ye,
+      We shall escape the up-hill by never turning back."
+
+    So they two went together in glowing August weather,
+      The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;
+    And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seem'd to float on
+      The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.
+
+    "Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven,
+      Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?"
+    "Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,
+      An undecipher'd solemn signal of help or hurt."
+
+    "Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly,
+      Their scent comes rich and sickly?" "A scaled and hooded worm."
+    "Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?"
+      "Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term."
+
+    "Turn again, O my sweetest,--turn again, false and fleetest:
+      This beaten way thou beatest, I fear is hell's own track."
+    "Nay, too steep for hill mounting; nay, too late for cost counting:
+      This down-hill path is easy, but there's no turning back."
+
+
+
+
+XCVI. TOUJOURS AMOUR.
+
+EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.--1833-
+
+
+      Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin,
+      At what age does love begin?
+      Your blue eyes have scarcely seen
+      Summers three, my fairy queen,
+      But a miracle of sweets,
+      Soft approaches, sly retreats,
+      Show the little archer there,
+      Hidden in your pretty hair;
+      When didst learn a heart to win?
+      Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin!
+      "Oh!" the rosy lips reply,
+      "I can't tell you if I try.
+    Tis so long I can't remember:
+      Ask some younger lass than I."
+
+      Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face,
+      Do your heart and head keep pace?
+      When does hoary Love expire,
+      When do frosts put out the fire?
+      Can its embers burn below
+      All that chill December snow?
+      Care you still soft hands to press,
+      Bonny heads to smooth and bless?
+      When does Love give up the chase?
+      Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face!
+      "Ah!" the wise old lips reply,
+      "Youth may pass and strength may die;
+    But of Love I can't foretoken:
+      Ask some older sage than I!"
+
+
+
+
+XCVII. ENGLAND.
+
+THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.--1836-
+
+
+    While men pay reverence to mighty things,
+    They must revere thee, thou blue-cinctured isle
+    Of England--not to-day, but this long while
+    In the front of nations, Mother of great kings,
+    Soldiers, and poets. Round thee the Sea flings
+    His steel-bright arm, and shields thee from the guile
+    And hurt of France. Secure, with august smile,
+    Thou sittest, and the East its tribute brings.
+    Some say thy old-time power is on the wane,
+    Thy moon of grandeur fill'd, contracts at length--
+    They see it darkening down from less to less.
+    Let but a hostile hand make threat again,
+    And they shall see thee in thy ancient strength,
+    Each iron sinew quivering, lioness!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _Such kings of shreds have woo'd and won her,
+      Such crafty knaves her laurel own'd,
+    It has become almost an honor
+      Not to be crown'd._
+
+        THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
+            _On Popularity._
+
+
+
+
+XCVIII. ROCOCO.
+
+THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
+
+
+    By studying my lady's eyes
+      I've grown so learned day by day,
+    So Machiavelian in this wise,
+      That when I send her flowers, I say
+
+    To each small flower (no matter what,
+      Geranium, pink, or tuberose,
+    Syringa, or forget-me-not,
+      Or violet) before it goes:
+
+    "Be not triumphant, little flower,
+      When on her haughty heart you lie,
+    But modestly enjoy your hour:
+      She'll weary of you by-and-by."
+
+
+
+
+XCIX. KINGS OF MEN.
+
+JOHN READE.--1837-
+
+
+    As hills seem Alps, when veil'd in misty shroud,
+      Some men seem kings, through mists of ignorance;
+    Must we have darkness, then, and cloud on cloud,
+      To give our hills and pigmy kings a chance?
+    Must we conspire to curse the humbling light,
+      Lest some one, at whose feet our fathers bow'd,
+    Should suddenly appear, full length, in sight,
+      Scaring to laughter the adoring crowd?
+    Oh, no! God send us light!--Who loses then?
+      The king of slaves and not the king of men.
+    True kings are kings for ever, crown'd of God,
+      The King of Kings,--we need not fear for them.
+    'Tis only the usurper's diadem
+      That shakes at touch of light, revealing fraud.
+
+
+
+
+C. THALATTA! THALATTA!
+
+JOHN READE.
+
+
+    In my ear is the moan of the pines--in my heart is the song of
+              the sea,
+    And I feel his salt breath on my face as he showers his kisses
+              on me,
+    And I hear the wild scream of the gulls, as they answer the call
+              of the tide,
+    And I watch the fair sails as they glisten like gems on the breast
+              of a bride.
+
+    From the rock where I stand to the sun is a pathway of sapphire
+              and gold,
+    Like a waif of those Patmian visions that wrapt the lone seer
+              of old,
+    And it seems to my soul like an omen that calls me far over
+              the sea--
+    But I think of a little white cottage and one that is dearest to me.
+
+    Westward ho! Far away to the East is a cottage that looks to
+              the shore,--
+    Though each drop in the sea were a tear, as it was, I can see it
+              no more;
+    For the heart of its pride with the flowers of the "Vale of the
+              Shadow" reclines,
+    And--hush'd is the song of the sea and hoarse is the moan of
+              the pines.
+
+
+
+
+CI. THE FORSAKEN GARDEN.
+
+ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.--1837-
+
+
+    In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland,
+      At the sea-down's edge between windward and lee,
+    Wall'd round with rocks as an inland island,
+      The ghost of a garden fronts the sea.
+    A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses
+      The steep square slope of the blossomless bed
+    Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses
+          Now lie dead.
+
+    The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken,
+      To the low last edge of the long lone land.
+    If a step should sound or a word be spoken,
+      Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand?
+    So long have the gray bare walks lain guestless,
+      Through branches and briers if a man make way,
+    He shall find no life but the sea-wind's, restless
+          Night and day.
+
+    The dense hard passage is blind and stifled,
+      That crawls by a track none turn to climb
+    To the strait waste place that the years have rifled
+      Of all but the thorns that are touch'd not of time.
+    The thorns he spares when the rose is taken;
+      The rocks are left when he wastes the plain.
+    The wind that wanders, the weeds wind-shaken,
+          These remain.
+
+    Not a flower to be prest of the foot that falls not;
+      As the heart of a dead man the seed-plots are dry;
+    From the thicket of thorns whence the nightingale calls not,
+      Could she call, there were never a rose to reply.
+    Over the meadows that blossom and wither
+      Rings but the note of sea-bird's song;
+    Only the sun and the rain come hither
+          All year long.
+
+    The sun burns sere and the rain dishevels
+      One gaunt bleak blossom of scentless breath.
+    Only the wind here hovers and revels
+      In a round where life seems barren as death.
+    Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping,
+      Haply, of lovers none ever will know,
+    Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping
+          Years ago.
+
+    Heart handfast in heart as they stood, "Look thither,"
+      Did he whisper? "Look forth from the flowers to the sea;
+    For the foam-flowers endure when the rose-blossoms wither,
+      And men that love lightly may die--but we?"
+    And the same wind sang and the same waves whiten'd,
+      And or ever the garden's last petals were shed,
+    In the lips that had whisper'd, the eyes that had lighten'd,
+          Love was dead.
+
+    Or they lov'd their life through, and then went whither?
+      And were one to the end--but what end who knows?
+    Love deep as the sea as a rose must wither,
+      As the rose-red seaweed that mocks the rose.
+    Shall the dead take thought for the dead to love them?
+      What love was ever as deep as a grave?
+    They are loveless now as the grass above them
+          Or the wave.
+
+    All are at one now, roses and lovers,
+      Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the sea.
+    Not a breath of the time that has been hovers
+      In the air now soft with a summer to be.
+    Not a breath shall there sweeten the seasons hereafter
+      Of the flowers or the lovers that laugh now or weep,
+    When as they that are free now of weeping and laughter
+          We shall sleep.
+
+    Here death may deal not again for ever;
+      Here change may come not till all change end.
+    From the graves they have made they shall rise up never,
+      Who have left nought living to ravage and rend.
+    Earth, stones, and thorns of the wild ground growing,
+      When the sun and the rain live, these shall be;
+    Till a last wind's breath upon all these blowing
+          Roll the sea.
+
+    Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble,
+      Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink,
+    Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble
+      The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink,
+    Here now in his triumph where all things falter,
+      Stretch'd out on the spoils that his own hand spread,
+    As a god self-slain on his own strange altar,
+          Death lies dead.
+
+
+
+
+CII. A BALLAD TO QUEEN ELIZABETH OF THE SPANISH ARMADA.
+
+(BALLADE.)
+
+AUSTIN DOBSON.--1840-
+
+
+    King Philip had vaunted his claims;
+      He had sworn for a year he would sack us;
+    With an army of heathenish names
+      He was coming to fagot and stack us;
+    Like the thieves of the sea he would track us,
+      And shatter our ships on the main;
+    But we had bold Neptune to back us,--
+      And where are the galleons of Spain?
+
+    His carackes were christen'd of dames
+      To the kirtles whereof he would tack us;
+    With his saints and his gilded stern-frames,
+      He had thought like an egg-shell to crack us;
+      Now Howard may get to his Flaccus,
+    And Drake to his Devon again,
+      And Hawkins bowl rubbers to Bacchus,--
+    For where are the galleons of Spain?
+
+    Let his Majesty hang to St. James
+      The axe that he whetted to hack us;
+    He must play at some lustier games
+      Or at sea he can hope to out-thwack us;
+      To his mines of Peru he would pack us
+    To tug at his bullet and chain;
+      Alas! that his Greatness should lack us!--
+    But where are the galleons of Spain?
+
+
+          ENVOY.
+
+        GLORIANA!--the Don may attack us
+      Whenever his stomach be fain;
+      He must reach us before he can rack us, ...
+    And where are the galleons of Spain?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    _He lives not best who dreads the coming pain
+      And shunneth each delight desirable:_
+    FLEE THOU EXTREMES, _this word alone is plain,
+      Of all that God hath given to Man to spell!_
+
+        ANDREW LANG.--1844.
+            _From Sonnets from the Antique._
+
+
+
+
+CIII. CIRCE.
+
+(TRIOLET.)
+
+AUSTIN DOBSON.
+
+
+    In the School of Coquettes
+      Madame Rose is a scholar:--
+    O, they fish with all nets
+    In the School of Coquettes!
+    When her brooch she forgets
+      'Tis to show her new collar;
+    In the School of Coquettes
+      Madame Rose is a scholar!
+
+
+
+
+CIV. SCENES FROM "TECUMSEH."[Q]
+
+CHARLES MAIR.--1840-
+
+
+SCENE.--TECUMSEH'S _Cabin_.
+
+_Enter_ IENA.
+
+_Iena._ 'Tis night, and Mamatee is absent still!
+Why should this sorrow weigh upon my heart,
+And other lonely things on earth have rest?
+Oh, could I be with them! The lily shone
+All day upon the stream, and now it sleeps
+Under the wave in peace--in cradle soft
+Which sorrow soon may fashion for my grave.
+Ye shadows which do creep into my thoughts--
+Ye curtains of despair! what is my fault,
+That ye should hide the happy earth from me?
+Once I had joy of it, when tender Spring,
+Mother of beauty, hid me in her leaves;
+When Summer led me by the shores of song,
+And forests and far-sounding cataracts
+Melted my soul with music. I have heard
+The rough chill harpings of dismantled woods,
+When Fall had stripp'd them, and have felt a joy
+Deeper than ear could lend unto the heart;
+And when the Winter from his mountains wild
+Look'd down on death, and, in the frosty sky,
+The very stars seem'd hung with icicles,
+Then came a sense of beauty calm and cold,
+That wean'd me from myself, yet knit me still
+With kindred bonds to Nature. All is past,
+And he--who won from me such love for him,
+And he--my valiant uncle and my friend,
+Comes not to lift the cloud that drapes my soul,
+And shield me from the fiendish Prophet's power.
+
+_Enter_ MAMATEE.
+
+Give me his answer in his very words!
+
+_Mamatee._ There is a black storm raging in his mind--
+His eye darts lightning like the angry cloud
+Which hangs in woven darkness o'er the earth.
+Brief is his answer--you must go to him.
+The Long-Knife's camp-fires gleam among the oaks
+Which dot yon western hill. A thousand men
+Are sleeping there cajoled to fatal dreams
+By promises the Prophet breaks to-night.
+Hark! 'tis the war-song.
+
+_Iena._                  Dares the Prophet now
+Betray Tecumseh's trust, and break his faith?
+
+_Mamatee._ He dares do anything will feed ambition.
+His dancing braves are frenzied by his tongue,
+Which prophesies revenge and victory.
+Before the break of day he will surprise
+The Long-Knife's camp, and hang our people's fate
+Upon a single onset.
+
+_Iena._              Should he fail?
+
+_Mamatee._ Then all will fail;--Tecumseh's scheme will fail.[R]
+
+_Iena._ It shall not! Let us go to him at once!
+
+_Mamatee._ And risk your life?
+
+_Iena._                        Risk hovers everywhere
+When night and man combine for darksome deeds.
+I'll go to him, and argue on my knees--
+Yea, yield my hand--would I could give my heart
+To stay his purpose and this act of ruin.
+
+_Mamatee._ He is not in the mood for argument.
+Rash girl! they die who would oppose him now.
+
+_Iena._ Such death were sweet as life--I go! But, first--
+Great Spirit! I commit my soul to Thee.      [_Kneels._
+
+
+SCENE.--_An open space in the forest near the Prophet's Town. A fire of
+billets burning. War-cries are heard from the town._
+
+_Enter the_ PROPHET.
+
+_Prophet._ My spells do work apace! Shout yourselves hoarse,
+Ye howling ministers by whom I climb!
+For this I've wrought until my weary tongue,
+Blister'd with incantation, flags in speech,
+And half declines its office. Every brave
+Inflamed by charms and oracles, is now
+A vengeful serpent, who will glide ere morn
+To sting the Long-Knife's sleeping camp to death.
+Why should I hesitate? My promises!
+My duty to Tecumseh! What are these
+Compared with duty here? Where I perceive
+A near advantage, there my duty lies;
+Consideration strong which overweighs
+All other reason. Here is Harrison--
+Trepann'd to dangerous lodgment for the night--
+Each deep ravine which grooves the prairie's breast
+A channel of approach; each winding creek
+A screen for creeping death. Revenge is sick
+To think of such advantage flung aside.
+For what? To let Tecumseh's greatness grow,
+Who gathers his rich harvest of renown
+Out of the very fields that I have sown!
+By Manitou, I will endure no more!
+Nor, in the rising flood of our affairs,
+Fish like an osprey for this eagle longer.
+                                           But, soft!
+It is the midnight hour when comes
+Tarhay to claim his bride. [_Calls._] Tarhay! Tarhay!
+
+_Enter_ TARHAY _with several braves._
+
+_Tarhay._ Tarhay is here!
+
+_Prophet._                The Long-Knives die to-night.
+The spirits which do minister to me
+Have breathed this utterance within my ear.
+You know my sacred office cuts me off
+From the immediate leadership in fight.
+My nobler work is in the spirit-world,
+And thence come promises which make us strong.
+Near to the foe I'll keep the Magic Bowl,
+Whilst you, Tarhay, shall lead our warriors on.
+
+_Tarhay._ I'll lead them; they are wild with eagerness.
+But fill my cold and empty cabin first
+With light and heat! You know I love your niece,
+And have the promise of her hand to-night.
+
+_Prophet._ She shall be yours!
+            [_To the braves._] Go bring her here at once--
+But, look! Fulfilment of my promise comes
+In her own person.
+
+_Enter_ IENA _and_ MAMATEE.
+
+                   Welcome, my sweet niece!
+You have forstall'd my message by these braves,
+And come unbidden to your wedding-place.
+
+_Iena._ Uncle! you know my heart is far away--
+
+_Prophet._ But still your hand is here! this little hand!
+                                    [_Pulling her forward._
+
+_Iena._ Dare you enforce a weak and helpless girl,
+Who thought to move you by her misery?
+Stand back! I have a message for you too.
+What means the war-like song, the dance of braves,
+And bustle in our town?
+
+_Prophet._              It means that we
+Attack the foe to-night.
+
+_Iena._                  And risk our all?
+O that Tecumseh knew! his soul would rush
+In arms to intercept you. What! break faith,
+And on the hazard of a doubtful strife,
+Stake his great enterprise and all our lives!
+The dying curses of a ruin'd race
+Will wither up your wicked heart for this!
+
+_Prophet._ False girl! your heart is with our foes;
+Your hand I mean to turn to better use.
+
+_Iena._ Oh, could it turn you from your mad intent
+How freely would I give it! Drop this scheme,
+Dismiss your frenzied warriors to their beds;
+And, if contented with my hand, Tarhay
+Can have it here.
+
+_Tarhay._         I love you, Iena!
+
+_Iena._ Then must you love what I do! Love our race!
+'Tis this love nerves Tecumseh to unite
+Its scatter'd tribes--his fruit of noble toil,
+Which you would snatch unripen'd from his hand,
+And feed to sour ambition. Touch it not--
+Oh, touch it not, Tarhay! and though my heart
+Breaks for it, I am yours.
+
+_Prophet._                 His anyway,
+Or I am not the Prophet!
+
+_Tarhay._                For my part
+I have no leaning to this rash attempt,
+Since Iena consents to be my wife.
+
+_Prophet._ Shall I be thwarted by a yearning fool!      [_Aside._
+This soft, sleek girl, to outward seeming good,
+I know to be a very fiend beneath--
+Whose sly affections centre on herself,
+And feed the gliding snake within her heart.
+
+_Tarhay._ I cannot think her so--
+
+_Mamatee._                        She is not so!
+There is the snake that creeps among our race;
+Whose venom'd fangs would bile into our lives,
+And poison all our hopes.
+
+_Prophet._                She is the head--
+The very neck of danger to me here,
+Which I must break at once! [_Aside._] Tarhay--attend!
+I can see dreadful visions in the air;
+I can dream awful dreams of life and fate;
+I can bring darkness on the heavy earth;
+I can fetch shadows from our fathers' graves,
+And spectres from the sepulchres of hell.
+Who dares dispute with me, disputes with death!
+Dost hear, Tarhay?
+
+[TARHAY _and braves cower before the_ PROPHET.
+
+_Tarhay._          I hear, and will obey.
+Spare me! Spare me!
+
+_Prophet._          As for this foolish girl,
+The hand she offers you on one condition,
+I give to you upon a better one;
+And, since she has no mind to give her heart--
+Which, rest assured, is in her body still--
+There,--take it at my hands!
+
+[_Flings_ IENA _violently towards_ TARHAY, _into whose arms she falls
+fainting, and is then borne away by_ MAMATEE.
+
+[_To_ TARHAY.] Go bring the braves to view the Mystic Torch
+And belt of Sacred Beans grown from my flesh--
+One touch of it makes them invulnerable--
+Then creep, like stealthy panthers, on the foe!
+
+
+SCENE.--_Morning. The field of Tippecanoe after the battle. The ground
+strewn with dead soldiers and warriors._
+
+_Enter_ HARRISON, _officers and soldiers, and_ BARRON.
+
+_Harrison._ A costly triumph reckon'd by our slain!
+Look how some lie still clench'd with savages
+In all-embracing death, their bloody hands
+Glued in each other's hair! Make burial straight
+Of all alike in deep and common graves:
+Their quarrel now is ended.
+
+_1st Officer._              I have heard
+The red man fears our steel--'twas not so here;
+From the first shots, which drove our pickets in,
+Till daylight dawn'd, they rush'd upon our lines,
+And flung themselves upon our bayonet points
+In frenzied recklessness of bravery.
+
+_Barron._ They trusted in the Prophet's rites and spells,
+Which promis'd them immunity from death.
+All night he sat on yon safe eminence,
+Howling his songs of war and mystery,
+Then fled, at dawn, in fear of his own braves.
+
+_Enter an_ AIDE.
+
+_Harrison._ What tidings bring you from the Prophet's Town?
+
+_Aide._ The wretched women with their children fly
+To distant forests for concealment. In
+Their village is no living thing save mice
+Which scamper'd as we oped each cabin door.
+Their pots still simmer'd on the vacant hearths,
+Standing in dusty silence and desertion.
+Naught else we saw, save that their granaries
+Were cramm'd with needful corn.
+
+_Harrison._                     Go bring it all--
+Then burn their village down!      [_Exit_ AIDE.
+
+_2nd Officer._                This victory
+Will shake Tecumseh's project to the base.
+Were I the Prophet I should drown myself
+Rather than meet him.
+
+_Barron._             We have news of him--
+Our scouts report him near in heavy force.
+
+_Harrison._ 'Twill melt, or draw across the British line,
+And wait for war. But double the night watch,
+Lest he should strike, and give an instant care
+To all our wounded men: to-morrow's sun
+Must light us on our backward march for home.
+Thence Rumor's tongue will spread so proud a story
+New England will grow envious of our glory;
+And, greedy for renown so long abhorr'd,
+Will on old England draw the tardy sword!
+
+
+SCENE.--_The Ruins of the Prophet's Town._
+
+_Enter the_ PROPHET, _who gloomily surveys the place._
+
+_Prophet._ Our people scatter'd, and our town in ashes!
+To think these hands could work such madness here--
+This envious head devise this misery!
+Tecumseh, had not my ambition drawn
+Such sharp and fell destruction on our race
+You might have smiled at me! for I have match'd
+My cunning 'gainst your wisdom, and have dragg'd
+Myself and all into a sea of ruin.
+
+_Enter_ TECUMSEH.
+
+_Tecumseh._ Devil! I have discover'd you at last!
+You sum of treacheries, whose wolfish fangs
+Have torn our people's flesh--you shall not live!
+
+[_The_ PROPHET _retreats facing and followed by_ TECUMSEH.
+
+_Prophet._ Nay--strike me not! I can explain it all!
+It was a woman touch'd the Magic Bowl,
+And broke the brooding spell.
+
+_Tecumseh._                   Impostor! Slave!
+Why should I spare you?      [_Lifts his hand as if to strike._
+
+_Prophet._              Stay, stay, touch me not!
+One mother bore us in the self-same hour.
+
+_Tecumseh._ Then good and evil came to light together.
+Go to the corn-dance, change your name to villain!
+Away! Your presence tempts my soul to mischief.
+                                          [_Exit the_ PROPHET _hastily._
+Would that I were a woman, and could weep,
+And slake hot rage with tears! O spiteful fortune,
+To lure me to the limit of my dreams,
+Then turn and crowd the ruin of my toil
+Into the narrow compass of a night!
+My brother's deep disgrace--myself the scorn
+Of envious harriers and thieves of fame,
+Who fain would rob me of the lawful meed
+Of faithful services and duties done--
+Oh, I could bear it all! But to behold
+Our ruin'd people hunted to their graves--
+To see the Long-Knife triumph in their shame--
+This is the burning shaft, the poison'd wound
+That rankles in my soul! But, why despair?
+All is not lost--the English are our friends.
+My spirit rises--manhood bear me up!
+I'll haste to Malden, join my force to theirs,
+And fall with double fury on our foes.
+Farewell ye plains and forests, but rejoice!
+Ye yet shall echo to Tecumseh's voice.
+
+_Enter_ LEFROY.
+
+_Lefroy._ What tidings have you glean'd of Iena?
+
+_Tecumseh._ My brother meant to wed her to Tarhay--
+The chief who led his warriors to ruin;
+But, in the gloom and tumult of the night,
+She fled into the forest all alone.
+
+_Lefroy._ Alone! In the wide forest all alone!
+Angels are with her now, for she is dead.
+
+_Tecumseh._ You know her to be skilful with the bow.
+'Tis certain she would strike for some great Lake--
+Erie or Michigan. At the Detroit
+Are people of our nation, and perchance
+She fled for shelter there. I go at once
+To join the British force.      [_Exit_ TECUMSEH.
+
+_Lefroy._                  But yesterday
+I climb'd to Heaven upon the shining stairs
+Of love and hope, and here am quite cast down.
+My little flower amidst a weedy world,
+Where art thou now? In deepest forest shade?
+Or onward, where the sumach stands array'd
+In autumn splendor, its alluring form
+Fruited, yet odious with the hidden worm?
+Or, farther, by some still sequester'd lake,
+Loon-haunted, where the sinewy panthers slake
+Their noon-day thirst, and never voice is heard
+Joyous of singing waters, breeze or bird,
+Save their wild wailings.--[_A halloo without._] 'Tis Tecumseh calls!
+Oh Iena! If dead, where'er thou art--
+Thy saddest grave will be this ruin'd heart!      [_Exit._
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Q] These scenes are enacted at the "Prophet's Town," an Indian
+village, situated at the junction of the Tippecanoe river with the
+Wabash, the latter a tributary of the Ohio. Tecumseh is gone on a
+mission to the Southern Indians to induce them to unite in a
+confederation of all the Indian tribes, leaving his brother, the
+Prophet, in charge of the tribes already assembled, having strictly
+enjoined upon him not to quarrel with the Americans, or Long-Knives,
+as the Indians called them, during his absence. General Harrison,
+Governor of Indiana, and commander of the American forces, having
+learned of Tecumseh's plans, marches to attack the Prophet; but the
+latter, pretending to be friendly, sends out some chiefs to meet
+Harrison. By the advice of these chiefs, the Americans encamp on an
+elevated plateau, near the Prophet's Town,--"a very fitting place,"
+to the mind of Harrison's officers, but to the practised eye of
+Harrison himself, also well fitted for a night attack by the Indians.
+He, therefore, very wisely makes all necessary preparations for
+defence against any sudden attack. Tecumseh has left behind him,
+under the protection of the Prophet, his wife, Mamatee, and his
+niece, Iena. He is accompanied on his mission by Lefroy, an English
+poet-artist, "enamoured of Indian life, and in love with Iena." The
+Prophet, who is hostile to Lefroy, intends to marry Iena to Tarhay,
+one of his chiefs, but Mamatee has gone to intercede with her
+brother-in-law for Iena, and, if possible, to turn him from his
+purpose.
+
+[R] Tecumseh had long foreseen that nothing but combination could
+prevent the encroachments of the whites upon the Ohio, and had long
+been successfully endeavoring to bring about a union of the tribes
+who inhabited its valley. The Fort Wayne treaties gave a wider scope
+to his design, and he now originated his great scheme of a federation
+of the entire red race. In pursuance of this object, his exertions,
+hitherto very arduous, became almost superhuman. He made repeated
+journeys, and visited almost every tribe from the Gulf of Mexico to
+the Great Lakes, and even north of them, and far to the west of the
+Mississippi. In order to further his scheme he took advantage of his
+brother's growing reputation as a prophet, and allowed him to gain a
+powerful hold upon the superstitious minds of his people by his
+preaching and predictions. The Prophet professed to have obtained
+from the Great Spirit a magic bowl, which possessed miraculous
+qualities; also a mystic torch, presumably from Nanabush, the keeper
+of the sacred fire. He asserted that a certain belt, said to make
+those invulnerable who touched it whilst in his hands, was composed
+of beans which had grown from his flesh; and this belt was circulated
+far and wide by Indian runners, finding its way even to the Red River
+of the North. These, coupled with his oratory and mummeries, greatly
+enhanced an influence which was possibly added to by a gloomy and
+saturnine countenance, made more forbidding still by the loss of an
+eye. Unfortunately for Tecumseh's enterprise, the Prophet was more
+bent upon personal notoriety than upon the welfare of his people;
+and, whilst professing the latter, indulged his ambition, in
+Tecumseh's absence, by a precipitate attack upon Harrison's force on
+the Tippecanoe. His defeat discredited his assumption of supernatural
+powers, led to distrust and defection, and wrecked Tecumseh's plan of
+independent action. But the protection of his people was Tecumseh's
+sole ambition; and, true statesman that he was, he joined the British
+at Amherstburg (Fort Malden), in Upper Canada, with a large force,
+and in the summer of 1812 began that series of services to the
+British interest which has made his name a household word in Canada,
+and endeared him to the Canadian heart.--_From_ AUTHOR'S NOTE.
+
+
+
+
+CV. THE RETURN OF THE SWALLOWS.
+
+EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE.--1849-
+
+
+    "Out in the meadows the young grass springs,
+      Shivering with sap," said the larks, "and we
+    Shoot into air with our strong young wings
+      Spirally up over level and lea;
+    Come, O Swallows, and fly with us
+    Now that horizons are luminous!
+      Evening and morning the world of light,
+      Spreading and kindling, is infinite!"
+
+    Far away, by the sea in the south,
+      The hills of olive and slopes of fern
+    Whiten and glow in the sun's long drouth,
+      Under the heavens that beam and burn;
+    And all the swallows were gather'd there
+    Flitting about in the fragrant air,
+      And heard no sound from the larks, but flew
+      Flashing under the blinding blue.
+
+    Out of the depths of their soft rich throats
+      Languidly fluted the thrushes, and said:
+    "Musical thought in the mild air floats,
+      Spring is coming and winter is dead!
+    Come, O Swallows, and stir the air,
+    For the buds are all bursting unaware,
+      And the drooping eaves and the elm-trees long
+      To hear the sound of your low sweet song."
+
+    Over the roofs of the white Algiers,
+      Flashingly shadowing the bright bazaar,
+    Flitted the swallows, and not one hears
+      The call of the thrushes from far, from far;
+    Sigh'd the thrushes; then, all at once,
+    Broke out singing the old sweet tones,
+      Singing the bridal of sap and shoot,
+      The tree's slow life between root and fruit.
+
+    But just when the dingles of April flowers
+      Shine with the earliest daffodils,
+    When, before sunrise, the cold clear hours
+      Gleam with a promise that noon fulfils,--
+    Deep in the leafage the cuckoo cried,
+    Perch'd on a spray by a rivulet-side,
+      "Swallows, O Swallows, come back again
+      To swoop and herald the April rain."
+
+    And something awoke in the slumbering heart
+      Of the alien birds in their African air,
+    And they paused, and alighted, and twitter'd apart,
+      And met in the broad white dreamy square;
+    And the sad slave woman, who lifted up
+    From the fountain her broad-lipp'd earthen cup,
+      Said to herself, with a weary sigh,
+      "To-morrow the swallows will northward fly!"
+
+
+
+
+CVI. DAWN ANGELS.
+
+A. MARY F. ROBINSON.--1856-
+
+
+    All night I watch'd, awake, for morning:
+      At last the East grew all aflame,
+    The birds for welcome sang, or warning,
+      And with their singing morning came.
+
+    Along the gold-green heavens drifted
+      Pale wandering souls that shun the light,
+    Whose cloudy pinions, torn and rifted,
+      Had beat the bars of Heaven all night.
+
+    These cluster'd round the Moon; but higher
+      A troop of shining spirits went,
+    Who were not made of wind or fire,
+      But some divine dream-element.
+
+    Some held the Light, while those remaining
+      Shook out their harvest-color'd wings,
+    A faint unusual music raining
+      (Whose sound was Light) on earthly things.
+
+    They sang, and as a mighty river
+      Their voices wash'd the night away:
+    From East to West ran one white shiver,
+      And waxen strong their song was Day.
+
+
+
+
+CVII. LE ROI EST MORT.
+
+A. MARY F. ROBINSON.
+
+
+    And shall I weep that Love's no more,
+    And magnify his reign?
+    Sure never mortal man before
+        Would have his grief again.
+    Farewell the long-continued ache,
+    The days a-dream, the nights awake,
+    I will rejoice and merry make,
+        And never more complain.
+
+    King Love is dead and gone for aye,
+    Who ruled with might and main,
+    For with a bitter word one day,
+        I found my tyrant slain,
+    And he in Heathenesse was bred,
+    Nor ever was baptized, 'tis said,
+    Nor is of any creed, and dead
+        Can never rise again.
+
+
+
+
+CVIII. TO WINTER.
+
+CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS.--1859-
+
+
+    Ruling with an iron hand
+    O'er the intermediate land
+    'Twixt the plains of rich completeness,
+    And the realms of budding sweetness,
+    Winter! from thy crystal throne,
+    With a keenness all thy own
+    Dartest thou, through gleaming air,
+    O'er the glorious barren glare
+    Of thy sunlit wildernesses,
+    Thine undazzled level glances,
+    Where thy minions' silver tresses
+    Stream among their icy lances;
+    While thy universal breathing,
+    Frozen to a radiant swathing
+    For the trees, their bareness hides,
+    And upon their sunward sides
+    Shines and flushes rosily
+    To the chill pink morning sky.
+    Skilful artists thou employest,
+    And in chastest beauty joyest--
+    Forms most delicate, pure, and clear,
+    Frost-caught starbeams fallen sheer
+    In the night, and woven here
+    In jewel-fretted tapestries.
+    But what magic melodies,
+    As in the bord'ring realms are throbbing,
+    Hast thou, Winter?--Liquid sobbing
+    Brooks, and brawling waterfalls,
+    Whose responsive-voiced calls
+    Clothe with harmony the hills,
+    Gurgling meadow-threading rills,
+    Lakelets' lisping wavelets lapping
+    Round a flock of wild ducks napping,
+    And the rapturous-noted wooings,
+    And the molten-throated cooings,
+    Of the amorous multitudes
+    Flashing through the dusky woods,
+    When a veering wind hath blown
+    A glare of sudden daylight down?--
+    Naught of these!--And fewer notes
+    Hath the wind alone that floats
+    Over naked trees and snows;
+    Half its minstrelsy it owes
+    To its orchestra of leaves.
+    Ay! weak the meshes music weaves
+    For thy snared soul's delight,
+    'Less, when thou dost lie at night
+    'Neath the star-sown heavens bright,
+    To thy sin-unchoked ears
+    Some dim harmonies may pierce
+    From the high-consulting spheres:
+    'Less the silent sunrise sing
+    Like a vibrant silver string
+    When its prison'd splendors first
+    O'er the crusted snow-fields burst.
+    But thy days the silence keep,
+    Save for grosbeaks' feeble cheep,
+    Or for snow-birds' busy twitter
+    When thy breath is very bitter.
+
+    So my spirit often acheth
+    For the melodies it lacketh
+    'Neath thy sway, or cannot hear
+    For its mortal-cloaked ear.
+    And full thirstily it longeth
+    For the beauty that belongeth
+    To the Autumn's ripe fulfilling;--
+    Heaped orchard-baskets spilling
+    'Neath the laughter-shaken trees;
+    Fields of buckwheat full of bees,
+    Girt with ancient groves of fir
+    Shod with berried juniper;
+    Beech-nuts mid their russet leaves;
+    Heavy-headed nodding sheaves;
+    Clumps of luscious blackberries;
+    Purple-cluster'd traceries
+    Of the cottage climbing-vines;
+    Scarlet-fruited eglantines;
+    Maple forests all aflame
+    When thy sharp-tongued legates came.
+
+    Ruler with an iron hand
+    O'er an intermediate land!
+    Glad am I thy realm is border'd
+    By the plains more richly order'd,--
+    Stock'd with sweeter-glowing forms,--
+    Where the prison'd brightness warms
+    In lush crimsons through the leaves,
+    And a gorgeous legend weaves.
+
+
+
+
+CIX. ABIGAIL BECKER.
+
+(_Off Long Point Island, Lake Erie, November 24th, 1854._)
+
+AMANDA T. JONES.
+
+
+    The wind, the wind where Erie plunged,
+      Blew, blew nor'-east from land to land;
+    The wandering schooner dipp'd and lunged,--
+      Long Point was close at hand.
+
+    Long Point--a swampy island-slant,
+      Where, busy in their grassy homes,
+    Woodcock and snipe the hollows haunt,
+      And musk-rats build their domes;
+
+    Where gulls and eagles rest at need,
+      Where either side, by lake or sound,
+    Kingfishers, cranes, and divers feed,
+      And mallard ducks abound.
+
+    The lowering night shut out the sight:
+      Careen'd the vessel, pitch'd and veer'd,--
+    Raved, raved the wind with main and might;
+      The sunken reef she near'd.
+
+    She pounded over, lurch'd, and sank;
+      Between two sand-bars settling fast,
+    Her leaky hull the waters drank,
+      And she had sail'd her last.
+
+    Into the rigging, quick as thought,
+      Captain and mate and sailors sprung,
+    Clamber'd for life, some vantage caught,
+      And there all night they swung.
+
+    And it was cold--oh, it was cold!
+      The pinching cold was like a vise:
+    Spoondrift flew freezing,--fold on fold
+      It coated them with ice.
+
+    Now when the dawn began to break,
+      Light up the sand-path drench'd and brown,
+    To fill her bucket from the lake,
+      Came Mother Becker down.
+
+    From where her cabin crown'd the bank
+      Came Abigail Becker tall and strong:
+    She dipp'd, and lo! a broken plank
+      Came rocking close along!
+
+    She pois'd her glass with anxious ken:
+      The schooner's top she spied from far,
+    And there she counted seven men
+      That clung to mast and spar.
+
+    And oh, the gale! the rout and roar!
+      The blinding drift, the mounting wave,
+    A good half-mile from wreck to shore,
+      With seven men to save!
+
+    Sped Mother Becker: "Children! wake!
+      A ship's gone down! they're needing me!
+    Your father's off on shore; the lake
+      Is just a raging sea!
+
+    "Get wood, cook fish, make ready all."
+      She snatch'd her stores, she fled with haste,
+    In cotton gown and tatter'd shawl,
+      Barefoot across the waste,
+
+    Through sinking sands, through quaggy lands,
+      And nearer, nearer, full in view,
+    Went shouting through her hollow'd hands:
+      "Courage! we'll get you through!"
+
+    Ran to and fro, made cheery signs,
+      Her bonfire lighted, steeped her tea,
+    Brought drift-wood, watch'd Canadian lines
+      Her husband's boat to see.
+
+    Cold, cold it was--oh, it was cold!
+      The bitter cold made watching vain:
+    With ice the channel laboring roll'd,--
+      No skiff could stand the strain.
+
+    On all that isle, from outer swell
+      To strait between the landings shut,
+    Was never place where man might dwell,
+      Save trapper Becker's hut.
+
+    And it was twelve and one and two,
+      And it was three o'clock and more.
+    She call'd: "Come on! there's nought to do,
+      But leap and swim ashore!"
+
+    Blew, blew the gale; they did not hear:
+      She waded in the shallow sea;
+    She waved her hands, made signals clear,
+      "Swim! swim, and trust to me!"
+
+    "My men," the captain cried, "I'll try:
+      The woman's judgment may be right;
+    For, swim or sink, seven men must die
+      If here we swing to-night."
+
+    Far out he mark'd the gathering surge;
+      Across the bar he watch'd it pour,
+    Let go, and on its topmost verge
+      Came riding in to shore.
+
+    It struck the breaker's foamy track,--
+      Majestic wave on wave uphurl'd,
+    Went grandly toppling, tumbling back,
+      As loath to flood the world.
+
+    There blindly whirling, shorn of strength,
+      The captain drifted, sure to drown;
+    Dragg'd seaward half a cable's length,
+      Like sinking lead went down.
+
+    Ah, well for him that on the strand
+      Had Mother Becker waited long!
+    And well for him her grasping hand
+      And grappling arm were strong!
+
+    And well for him that wind and sun,
+      And daily toil for scanty gains,
+    Had made such daring blood to run
+      Within such generous veins!
+
+    For what to do but plunge and swim?
+      Out on the sinking billow cast,
+    She toil'd, she dived, she groped for him,
+      She found and clutch'd him fast.
+
+    She climb'd the reef, she brought him up,
+      She laid him gasping on the sands;
+    Built high the fire and fill'd the cup,--
+      Stood up and waved her hands!
+
+    Oh, life is dear! The mate leap'd in.
+      "I know," the captain said, "right well,
+    Not twice can any woman win
+      A soul from yonder hell.
+
+    "I'll start and meet him in the wave."
+      "Keep back!" she bade: "what strength have you?
+    And I shall have you both to save,--
+      Must work to pull you through!"
+
+    But out he went. Up shallow sweeps
+      Raced the long white-caps, comb on comb:
+    The wind, the wind that lash'd the deeps,
+      Far, far it blew the foam.
+
+    The frozen foam went scudding by,--
+      Before the wind, a seething throng,
+    The waves, the waves came towering high,
+      They flung the mate along.
+
+    The waves came towering high and white.
+      They burst in clouds of flying spray:
+    There mate and captain sank from sight,
+      And, clinching, roll'd away.
+
+    Oh, Mother Becker, seas are dread,
+      Their treacherous paths are deep and blind!
+    But widows twain shall mourn their dead
+      If thou art slow to find.
+
+    She sought them near, she sought them far,
+      Three fathoms down she gripp'd them tight;
+    With both together up the bar
+      She stagger'd into sight.
+
+    Beside the fire her burdens fell:
+      She paus'd the cheering draught to pour,
+    Then waved her hands: "All's well! all's well!
+      Come on! swim! swim ashore!"
+
+    Sure, life is dear, and men are brave:
+      They came,--they dropp'd from mast and spar;
+    And who but she could breast the wave,
+      And dive beyond the bar?
+
+    Dark grew the sky from east to west,
+      And darker, darker grew the world:
+    Each man from off the breaker's crest
+      To gloomier deeps was hurl'd.
+
+    And still the gale went shrieking on,
+      And still the wrecking fury grew;
+    And still the woman, worn and wan,
+      Those gates of Death went through,--
+
+    As Christ were walking on the waves,
+      And heavenly radiance shone about,--
+    All fearless trod that gulf of graves
+      And bore the sailors out.
+
+    Down came the night, but far and bright,
+      Despite the wind and flying foam,
+    The bonfire flamed to give them light
+      To trapper Becker's home.
+
+    Oh, safety after wreck is sweet!
+      And sweet is rest in hut or hall:
+    One story Life and Death repeat,--
+      God's mercy over all.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Next day men heard, put out from shore,
+      Cross'd channel-ice, burst in to find
+    Seven gallant fellows sick and sore,
+      A tender nurse and kind;
+
+    Shook hands, wept, laugh'd, were crazy-glad;
+      Cried: "Never yet, on land or sea,
+    Poor dying, drowning sailors had
+      A better friend than she.
+
+    "Billows may tumble, winds may roar,
+      Strong hands the wreck'd from Death may snatch:
+    But never, never, nevermore
+      This deed shall mortal match!"
+
+    Dear Mother Becker dropp'd her head,
+      She blush'd as girls when lovers woo:
+    "I have not done a thing," she said,
+      "More than I ought to do."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
++------------------------------------------+
+|          Transcriber's notes:            |
++------------------------------------------+
+| Non-ascii diacritical marks represented  |
+|              as follows:                 |
+|------------------------------------------|
+|                                          |
+|     [=a] a macron      [)a] a breve      |
+|     [=e] e macron      [)e] e breve      |
+|     [=i] i macron      [)i] i breve      |
+|     [=o] o macron      [)o] o breve      |
+|     [=u] u macron      [)u] u breve      |
+|                                          |
+|         [a:] two dots under a            |
+|         [.a] dot over a                  |
++------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ontario Readers: The High School
+Reader, 1886, by Ministry of Education
+
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