Still as you rise, the state exalted too, The rising sun night's vulgar lights destroys Had you, some ages past, this race of glory Run, with amazement we should read your story, This Cæsar found; and that ungrateful age, That sun once set, a thousand meaner stars If Rome's great senate could not wield that sword, You, that had taught them to subdue their foes, So when a lion shakes his dreadful mane, As the vexed world, to find repose, at last Then let the muses, with such notes as these, EDMUND WALLER WOLSEY'S ADVICE TO CROMWELL. ROMWELL, I did not think to shed a tear And-when I am forgotten, as I shall be, Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell! Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king, and-pr'ythee, lead me in. To the last penny; 't is the king's: my robe, I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! I served my king, He would not in mine age WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. LORD MACAULAY. Turk. 'HE dreamy rhymer's measured snore Falls heavy on our ears no more, And by long strides are left behind The dear delights of womankind, Who wage their battles like their loves, In satin waistcoats and kid gloves, And have achieved the crowning work When they have trussed and skewered Another comes with stouter tread, And stalks among the statlier dead. He rushes on and hails by turns High-crested Scott, broad breasted Burns; And shows the British youth, who ne'er Will lag behind, what Romans were, When all the Tuscans and their Lars Shouted, and shook the towers of Mars. WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. a JOSEPH MAZZINI LIGHT is out in Italy, A golden tongue of purest flame. We watched it burning, long and lone, And every watcher knew its name, And knew from whence its fervor came, That one rare light of Italy, Which put self-seeking souls to shame' This light which burnt for Italy Through all the blackness of her night, She doubted, once upon a time, Because it took away her sight. She looked and said, "There is no light!" It was thine eyes, poor Italy! That knew not dark apart from bright. This flame which burnt for Italy, Its burning showed us Italy, This light is out in Italy, Her eyes shall seek for it in vain! For her sweet sake it spent itself, Too early flickering to its waneToo long blown over by her pain. Bow down and weep, O Italy, Thou canst not kindle it again! LAURA C. REDDEN (Howard Glyndon). MARIA THERESA'S APPEAL TO HUNGARY. ARIA Theresa was twenty-four years old, when she succeeded her father on the thrones of Austria, Hungary, and Bohemia. Notwithstanding the guarantee given her father by the European powers, she soon found her. self opposed by nearly all of them, who sought to wrest her dominions from her and divide them among themselves. The battle of Molwitz made the situa tion of Maria Theresa almost desperate, and a little later an alliance was formed against her by France, Prussia, Bavaria, Spain and Saxony. A French army entered Germany and united with the Bavarian forces, while the Saxon army advanced into Bohemia. The Bavarians marched into upper Austria and occupied Linz, where the elector was proclaimed Archduke of Austria. He might have taken Vienna had he moved promptly against the city, but becoming jealous of the successes of the Saxons in Bohemia, he undertook the conquest of that country. He entered Prague and was proclaimed King of Bohemia. In January, 1742, he was chosen emperor by the electors at Frankfort, and took the title of Charles VII. In the meantime Maria Theresa had exerted herself to repair her disasters. She fled to her kingdom of Hungary for protection, and hastening to the assembled diet, with her infant son, afterwards Joseph II., in her arms, presented herself before the nobles and deputies, and appealed to them to maintain her cause. The chivalric Hungarians were deeply moved by her trust in them, and the hall rang with the cry: "Let us die for our King, Maria Theresa!" An army of 100,000 men was raised, and was joined by a strong force of Tyrolese. This force at once took the field. One division not only reconquered upper Austria, but| invaded Bavaria, and captured Munich on the very day that Charles VII. was crowned emperor. A little later an Austrian army, under Prince Charles of Lorraine, was defeated by Frederick at Czaslau. This disaster induced the Queen to rid herself of her most dangerous enemy by surrendering upper Silesia and a part of lower Silesia to him. Frederick was satisfied for the time, and peace was made between Austria and Prussia. DANIEL BOONE. F all men, saving Sylla the man-slayer, Was happiest amongst mortals anywhere; Where if men seek her not, and death be more Not only famous, but of that good fame, Is that you neither can be pleased nor please; Old acquaintances of thee. Much we hold it thee to greet, On thy features we would look, And thy voice would grateful hear, By the flogging wreaked on Squeers, To transfer his warm affections, By the mournful group that played Round the grave where Smike was laid By the life of Tiny Tim, And the lesson taught by him, Asking in his plaintive tone Welcome fills the throbbing breast W. H. VENABLE. TO VICTOR HUGO. ICTOR in poesy! Victor in romance! tears! Child-lover, bard, whose fame-lit laurels glance, Yield thee full thanks for thy full courtesy MARIA DE MEDICIS RECEIVING THE REGENCY. ARIA de Medicis, queen of France, was the daughter of Francis II., grand duke of Tuscany, and of Joan, archduchess of Austria. She was born at Florence in 1573. In 1630 she was married to Henry IV. Her son who became Louis XIII, was born the following year; his deplorable weakness as he grew up was the principal cause of his mother's misfortunes. The amours of her hus band rendered her life a wretched one, and, being of a violent temper, the peace of the royal household was frequently disturbed. Her anxieties as a wife, and the absolute temper of Henry, prevented her from taking any part in state affairs during his lifetime; and when towards 1610, he contemplated taking the field against the house of Austria, and proposed making her regent in his absence, she manifested the greatest repugnance to the subject, always saying that it foreboded some great misfortune. Finally it was arranged that she should be entrusted with the regency by her royal husband, and should be formally crowned, a ceremony /which Henry, on one pretext or another, had always deferred. This being done, Henry was stabbed by Ravaillac the day following, when preparing for the Queen's entry into Paris. Thus fell Henry of Navarre, a man of great qualities, and the most popular monarch France has ever known. Noiselessly as the spring-time Or voice of them that wept, Silently down from the mountain crown Perchance the bald old eagle, Looked on the wondrous sight. Still shuns the hallowed spot; For beast and bird have seen and heard That which man knoweth not. Lo! when the warrior dieth, His comrades in the war, With arms reversed, and muffled drum, Follow the funeral car. They show the banners taken, And after him lead his masterless steed, Amid the noblest of the land Men lay the sage to rest, This was the bravest warrior That ever breathed a word; On the deathless page, truths half so sage As he wrote down for men. And had he not high honor? The hill-side for his pall; To lie in state while angels wait, With stars for tapers tall; And the dark rock pines, like tossing plumes Over his bier to wave; And God's own hand, in that lonely land, To lay him in the grave— In that deep grave, without a name, Shall break again-Oh wondrous though a And stand, with glory wrapped around, And speak of the strife that won our hite, O lonely tomb in Moab's land! Speak to these curious hearts of ours, God hath his mysteries of grace Ways that we cannot tell; He hides them deep, like the secret sleep Of him he loved so well. CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER, TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS HOOD. AKE back into thy bosom, earth, This joyous, May-eyed morrow, 'Tis hard-while rays half green, half gold, To say we're thankful that his sleep Shall nevermore be lighter, In whose sweet-tongued companionship But all the more intensely true His soul gave out each feature Of elemental love-each hue And grace of golden natureThe deeper still beneath it all Lurked the keen jags of anguish ; Of his own mournful singing, So never to the desert-worn Did fount bring freshness deeper Where charnels choke the city, BARTHOLOMEW SIMMONS. THE LAND OF THE WEST. We spread hospitality's board for the stranger, And die, boys, in peace and good will to mankind. Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest; You know how we live, boys, and die in the West! Oho, boys!—oho, boys!—oho! GEORGE P. MORRIS MONODY ON SAMUEL PATCH. Samuel Patch was a boatman on the Erie Canal, in New York. He made himself notorious by leaping from the masts of ships, from the Falls of Niagara, and from the Falls in the Genesee River, at Rochester. He did this, as he said, to show "that some things can be done as well as others;" and hence this, now, proverbial phrase. His last feat was when, in the presence of many thousands, he jumped from above the highest rock over which the water falls in the Genesee, and was lost. WOLL for Sam Patch! Sam Patch, who jumps no more, This or the world to come. Sam Patch is dead! The vulgar pathway to the unknown shore Of dark futurity, he would not tread. Behind his corpse, and tears by retail shed ;— The mighty river, as it onward swept, In one great wholesale sob, his body drowned and kept. O! brothers-come hither and list to my Toll for Sam Patch! he scorned the common way story Merry and brief will the narrative be: Here, like a monarch, I reign in my gloryMaster am 1, boys, of all that I see. Where once frowned a forest a garden is smilingThe meadow and moorland are marshes no more; And there curls the smoke of my cottage, beguiling The children who cluster like grapes at the door. Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest, The land of the heart is the land of the West. Oho, boys!-oho, boys!—oho! Talk not of the town, boys-give me the broad prairie, Where man, like the wind, roams impulsive and free; Behold how its beautiful colors all vary, Like those of the clouds, or the deep-rolling sea. A life in the woods, boys, is even as changing; With proud independence we season our cheer, And those who the world are for happiness ranging Won't find it at all, if they don't find it here. Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest; I'll show you the life, boys, we live in the West. Oho, boys!-oho, boys !-oho! Here, brothers, secure from all turmoil and danger, That leads to fame, up heights of rough ascent, And having heard Pope and Longinus say, That some great men had risen to falls, he went Fame, the clear spirit that doth to heaven upraise, Pleasant, as are to women lighted halls Crammed full of fools and fiddles; to the sound Of the eternal roar, he timed his desperate bound. Sam was a fool. But the large world of such Has thousands-better taught, alike absurd, And less sublime. Of fame he soon got much; Where distant cataracts spout, of him men heard Alas for Sam! Had he aright preferred The kindly element to which he gave Himself so fearlessly, we had not heard |