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Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky,
Wilt thou not keep the same belovéd name, The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye,
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same?
Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home,
The wisdom that I learned so ill in this, The wisdom which is love, — till I become
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss ?
7.-0 MOTHER OF A MIGHTY RACE.
[In the following poem we have a fine specimen of Bryant's patriotic vein. The design of the piece is to set forth the grandeur of the country's theory and destiny, and to defend the United States against the sneers of foreign critics. At the time the poem was written (some thirty years ago), such taunts were common; but Bryant lived to see the fulfillment of the prophecy in his last stanza; for – slightly to alter the closing couplet,
“Before thine eye
O MOTHER of a mighty race,2
With words of shame
1 The wisdom which is love: a 3 elder dames: the older nations beautifully suggestive expression.
of Europe. 2 mother, etc.: that is, the gen peers. With what is this noun ius of the United States, America in apposition ? personified.
5 taunts. See Glossary.
For on thy cheeks the glow is spread,
Thy hopeful eye
Ay, let them rail — those haughty ones-
Would rise to throw
They know not, in their hate and pride,
What generous men 3
What cordial 5 welcomes greet the guest,
In woodland homes,
1 bide=abide, dwell.
4 like oaks. Show the apposite2 like flowers. Show the appo- ness of the sinile. siteness of the simile.
5 cordial: from Latin cor, cordis, 3 men. Object of what verb? the heart. Give a synonyn.
There's freedom at thy gates, and rest,
Power, at thy bounds,
O fair young mother! on thy brow
And, as they fleet,
Thine eye, with every coming hour,
Before thine eye
1 the hunted head: asynecdoche (see Def. 7) for “political refugee.”
2 fleet, hasten.
XII. - THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY.
LIFE AND WORKS.
Of all good gifts which it is in the power of fortune to bestow, none can surpass the being born of wise, honorable, and tender parents. This happy lot fell to Thomas Babington Macaulay, born October 25, 1800. His father, Zachary Macaulay, was of Scotch Presbyterian descent, and was a strong, zealous, self-sacrificing character. His mother, who belonged to a Quaker family, was a woman of most affectionate nature, yet clear-headed, firm, and discreet.
Thomas was a very precocious child. Even in his earliest years he wrote with ease; and his hymns were pronounced by Mrs. Hannah More, a famous moralist of that day, “quite extraordinary for such a baby.”
At thirteen Thomas was sent from home to a distant school, and at eighteen entered Trinity College, Cambridge. While averse to mathematics, he greatly distinguished himself by the thoroughness of his classical and literary scholarship; and in English verse he gained two gold medals. While young Macaulay was at college, his father, who had been a prosperous merchant, failed. Thomas pledged himself to pay off his parent's debts, and to be a second father to his brothers and sisters, - promises which he kept to the letter.
In 1826 he was called to the bar, but gained little practice. The Edinburgh Review, however, had already published an article of his, the famous essay on Mil
ton. This was followed by other papers of extraordinary brilliancy, one of which, attracting the attention of Lord Lansdowne, gained for him a seat in Parliament (1830).
When Macaulay entered the House of Commons, the great battle of reform for the extension of the right to vote was just beginning. His first speech placed him in the front rank of orators; and soon by his tongue and pen he gained a wider renown than any Englishman of his years, except Pitt, had
Soon after, he accepted the post of legal adviser to the Supreme Council of India, and sailed for Madras (1834). In India his chief work was a draught of the Indian penal code. Four years later he returned to England with a modest fortune. The same year (1838) he visited Italy, and on his return devoted himself to his life-work, the History of England.
In 1848 the history was published, and was received with applause unrivaled since Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. But four years later (1852) the great historian was prostrated by heart-disease. "I became,” he said, “twenty years older in a week. A mile is more to me now than ten miles a year ago.' He died peacefully, December 29, 1859, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.
Macaulay was a sturdy, broad-chested Englishman, as plain and full of energy as a locomotive. "I noticed," once remarked Carlyle on seeing his face in repose, " the homely Norse features that you find everywhere in the Western Isles; and I thought to myself, 'Well,