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and the abandonment of half the plebeian and how incapable of giving to any tribuneship to the patricians, in order to historical work any extensive celebri. obtain for the plebeians an equal share in ty! They should be given, but in the higher magistracies, would have been notes, so as not, to ordinary readers, as really injurious to the commons as it to interrupt the interest of the narwas unwelcome to the pride of the aristo.

rative, or break the continuity of craey. It was resigning a weapon with

thought. which they were familiar, for one which

The second is, to exert himself to they knew not how to wield. The tri

the utmost, and, on every occasion buneship was the foster-nurse of Roman liberty, and without its care that liberty graphic fire, the events, or people, or

which presents itself, to paint, with dever would have grown to maturity,

scenes which occur in the course of What evils it afterwards wrought, when the public freedom was fully ripened, arose

his narrative, and to give all the interfrom that great defect of the Roman con

est in his power to the description of stitution, its conferring such extravagant battles, sieges, incidents, episodes, or powers on all its officers. It proposed to

speeches, which present themselves. cheek one tyranny by another ; instead of

More even than accuracy of detail, or so limiting the prerogatives of every ma- any other more solid qualities, these gistrate and order in the state, whether fascinating graces determine, with fuaristocratical or popular, as to exclude ture ages, the celebrity and permanent tyranny from all."

interest of an historical work. What Our limits will not admit of any

is the charm which attracts all ages, other extracts, how interesting soever

and will do so to the end of the world, they may be. Those already made to the retreat of the Ten Thousand, will sufficiently indicate the character the youth of Cyrus, the early annals of the work. It is clear that Dr Ar- of Rome, the Catiline conspiracy, the nold, in addition to his well-known reign of Tiberius, the exploits of Alexclassical and critical acquirements, pos- ander, the Latin conquest of Constansesses a discriminating judgment, a re

tinople, the misfortunes of Mary, the flecting philosophic turn of mind, and death of Charles I.? The eloquent the power of graphic interesting descrip- fictions and graphic powers of Xenotion. These are valuable qualities to phon and Livy, of Sallust and Tacitus, any historian : they are indispensable of Quintus Curtius and Gibbon, of to the annalist of Rome, and promise Robertson and Hume. In vain does to render his work, if continued in the

criticism assail, and superior learning same spirit, the best_history of that disprove, and subsequent discoveries wonderful state in the English, perhaps overturn their enchanting narratives ; in any modern, language. We con.

in vain does the intellect of the learned gratulate him upon the auspicious few become sceptical as to the facts commencement of his labours; we

they relate. The imagination is kindled, cordially wish him success, and shall

the heart is overcome, and the works follow him, with no ordinary interest, remain, not only immortal in celebrity, through the remainder of his vast sub- but undecaying in influence through ject, interesting to the student of an- every succeeding age. Why should cient events, and the observer of con- not history, in modern as in ancient temporary transactions.

times, unite the interest of the romance There are two points which we to the accuracy of the annalist? Why would earnestly recommend to the should not real events enchain the consideration of this learned author, mind with the graces and the colours as essential to the success of his work of poetry ? That Dr Arnold is learnas a popular or durable history.

ed, all who have studied his admirable The first is, to avoid, as much as

edition of Thucydides know; that he possible, in the text, all discussions can paint with force and interest, none concerning questiones vexatas, or dis

who read the volume before us can puted points, and give the conclusions doubt. Why, then, should not the at which he arrives in distinct propo

latter qualities throw their brilliant sitions, without any of the critical or

hues over the accurate drawing of the antiquarian reasoning on which they former ? are founded. These last, indeed, are We have already said that we find of inestimable importance to the learned no fault with Dr Arnold on account of or the thoughtful. But how few are his politics; nay, that we value his they, compared to the mass of readers ! work the more, because, giving, as it


promises to do, in the main, a faithful felt in the actual administration of afaccount of the facts of Roman history, fairs. Recluse or speculative men beit cannot fail to furnish, from a source come attached to liberal ideas, because the least suspicious, a host of facts they see them constantly put forth, in decisive in favour of Conservative glowing and generous language, by the principles. By Conservative principles popular orators and writers in every we do not mean attachment to despo- age: they associate oppression with tic power, or aversion to genuine free- the government of a single ruler, or a dom: on the contrary, we mean the comparatively small number of perutmost abhorrence of the former, and sons of great possessions, because they the strongest attachment to the latter. see, in general, that government We mean an attachment to that form established on one or other of these of government, and that balance of bases; and, consequently, most of the power, which alone can render these oppressive acts recorded in history blessings permanent, which render have emanated from such authority. property the ruling, and numbers only They forget that the opportunity of the controlling power, which give abusing power has been so generally to weight of possession and intellect afforded to these classes by the expethe direction of affairs, and entrust to rienced impossibility of intrusting it to the ardent feelings of the multitude any other; that if the theory of poputhe duty only of preventing their ex- lar government had been practicable, cesses, or exposing their corruption. Democracy, instead of exhibiting only Without the former, the rule of the a few blood-stained specks in history, people degenerates, in a few years, in would have occupied the largest space every instance recorded in history, into in its annals ; that if the people had licentious excess, and absolute tyran- been really capable of directing affairs, dy; without the latter, the ambition they would, in every age, have been or selfishness of the aristocracy per. the supreme authority, and the holdverts to their own private purposes the ers of property the declaimers against domain of the state. Paradoxical as their abuses ; and that no proof can it may appear, it is strictly and literally be so decisive against the practicability true, that the general inclination of ab- of any form of government, as the fact, stract students, remote from a practi- that it has been found, during six thoucal intercourse with mankind, to re- sand years, of such rare occurrence, publican principles, is a decisive proof as to make even learned persons, till of the experienced necessity for Con- taught by experience, blind to its tenservative policy that has always been dency.




Come, living Thoughts-envelope me around

With your voluminous Beings-clear away,

For ye are spirits creative, and ye may
With your ethereal presence this dark ground
Beneath, and my unburthen'd feet surround

With th' unfelt pavement of your golden way,
T'ascend from out the darkness of Earth's day,
That to the Mind's large kingdom we may bound-
To reign, if perfect will and knowledge be
To reign--and aught may reign, but God above;
Where Life, in Spiritual conception free,

Sees all is Beauty, and feels all is Love.
And, ministering Thoughts, ye come more bright
Than wings of Angels glistening in their flight.



Last eve, a Concert gave me such high pleasure

As I can ill express—not as you think

In painted Hall-where painted warblers wink
In ecstasy of some long-dying measure,
Whose silly words bequeath no sense to treasure.

But on a primrose bank, and on the brink

Of a sweet streamlet, whence the pure leaves drink
Their freshness, lying there in endless leisure.
I felt the boughs o'ershadow me—and closed

Mine eyes—and the quick Spirits that haunt the stream,
Each with his lyre upon my lids reposed-
Then floating gently broke into my dream-
Whence in a bark, moor’d by a golden strand,

We sailed right merrily to Fairy-land.


O Gem, more precious than the thrice-tried ore,

And jewels that the cavern'd treasuries hold,
(For what rare diamond ere did life enfold?)

Thee at her bridal hour the chaste Earth wore,
When Æther, her proud bridegroom, came, and o'er
Heaven's Archway spread his mantle, gemm'd with gold
Of Stars in all their glory manifold
Yet deem'd Earth's bosom still adornèd more.

They call thee worm, thy love ungently name,

Whilst thou, like Hero, lightest to thy nook
Some bold Leander with thy constant flame,

Whose Hellespont may be this running brook.
O let the wise-man-worm his pride abjure,

And his own love be half as bright and pure !



Nature, best Schoolmistress, I love the book

Thou spreadest in the fields, when children lie Round thee, beneath the blessing of the sky

Thou biddest some on thy bright pictures look-
For some thou dost attune the play-mate brook ;

For thy sole Ushers are the ear and eye,
That give to growing hearts their due supply,

And cull sweet tastes from every silvan nook.
Dismiss thy Infant-school, good Mistress Starch ;
Absolve nor child nor parent from the ties
That bind with love and duty. Strut and march,
And sing-song knowledge will not make them wise.
Her scholars little know, but love and wonder more
Nature abhors thy mimic worthless store.


A wintry night:—my casement with the blast
Shook ; the thin smoke from the dim hearth upcrept,
Like dew of slumber, on my lids—I slept.
Methought my Spirit, to the whirlwind cast,
Was hurl'd to vapoury caverns, thick and vast,
Through which the scourged ghosts, all howling, swept,
And forked lightnings pierced them as they pass'd;
And there were angels hid their eyes, and wept.
I woke, and op'd my casement, as if there
Some Spirit escaped for pity moaned loud.
No fierce blast enter'd, but a gentle air ;
And wrathful mutterings ran from cloud to cloud.
If well I did, or ill, He knoweth best
Who made my after-slumbers calm and blest.


O wouldst thou give me Music, let it be

Now low and soft, in undulating motion,
Now swelling, now subsiding like the Ocean,
And, like it, wild or gentle, ever free-
But add no words— for simple melody
Flows to my heart like an enchanted potion
From Fairy hand—that would expel from me
In potency of Love all earthly notion.

O language is not for the Spirits of Air,

That sing as they awake. They hide themselves From speech and unclosed eyes-wouldst thou repair

To their loved haunts—the woods--the rocky shelvesThey to thy lute, beside the mountain stream, Will come to thee in Music and in Dream.


Ye Summer Winds, ye come upon mine ear

In the vex'd Midvight, more like Spirits unblest,
That shake the wintry drift—there is no rest.

And I am weary of this World of fear ;
Eclipse hath quench'd the beauty of the year ;

And Danger, in the darkness of the breast,
Sits breeding Fiends, that from their teeming nest
Of black suggestions growl their birthright cheer.
O, on green Nature's lap to lay one's head,

And in that quiet hear no more the surge
Of men, and things, and winds ; by Rivulet's bed,

That Argument of Peace doth ever urge!
It will not be-methinks sweet Nature's dead-

O come, ye gentler airs, and sing her dirge.


O check not, thoughtless Parent, Childhood's tear;

Let him pour out the sorrows of his breast,

And know that thou, too, feelest them, and best. Too soon come iron days, and thoughts that sear Young Virtue such as his; the Child revere

That, while his limbs enlarge with man imprest,

His little heart grow freely with the rest, Nor learn alone one coward lesson-Fear.

Open thy heart to me, ingenuous Boy!

And know by thine own tears what 'tis to weep,
By thine own mirth how blessed to enjoy ;

Truth part thy lips, not niggard Caution keep.
Open thy heart—no narrow door for Sin,
But wide, “ that all the Virtues may rush in.”


Mysterious hour, that wrappest me around

With the dark mantle of ill-boding Night; Thou dost awake within more ghastly bright The Mind's eye to discern the prison ground,

Where, with far worse than iron fetters boundIts own sad thoughts—it seeks, yet loathes the sight, What lies between me and yon casement light,

Blank solitude, invisible, profound. Yon little beam tells of a gentle Home, Looks that the Night illume, and Love's warm breathDark is the gulf between us—and this dome Of starry Heaven wears now a pall of Death. I stand, enclosed in nights and thoughts forlornBut thou wilt beam on me again, sweet Morn!


Ah! well do I remember thee, sweet Brook,

How on thy margin once I did complain,

When Grief was at my heart, and in my brain ;
How thou didst pour thy song, that gently shook

The curious boughs that into thee did look ;
That sometimes Pity 'twas—sometimes 'twas Pain,
And now 'twas changed to prattling sport again ;
Now low, like evening hymn from Holy book.

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