Second Stanza. What is meant by the "hero's heart"? "the poet's star tuned harp"? Why is it called "star-tuned"? What is declared about "the hero's heart, the poet's harp, the patriot's voice, the monarch's crown?” Third Stanza. Explain the second, third, fourth, and fifth lines, and show how they answer the question in the first line. What is the meaning of the word "undisproved"? "overweep"? Fifth Stanza. What part of speech is the word "heap" in the third line? What is the meaning of "delvéd"? Compare the fourth and fifth stanzas, and show the difference which the author points out between us and God. Seventh Stanza. What is the meaning of "scan"? Why "may men wonder," and at what? Eighth Stanza. What is the meaning of the word "mummers"? To whom is it applied in this stanza? XCIX. THE FALL OF WOLSEY. SHAKSPEARE. Wolsey. Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Enter CROMWELL, and stands amazed. Why, how now, Cromwell! What! amazed Cromwell. I have no power to speak, sir. A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, Cromwell. Wolsey. How does your grace? Why, well: Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured (I humbly thank his grace,) and from these shoulders, A load would sink a navy-too much honor! Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. Cromwell. I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. Wolsey. I hope I have: I am able now, methinks, (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,) To endure more miseries, and greater far, Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. Cromwell. The heaviest, and the worst, God bless him! Is your displeasure with the king. Wolsey. Cromwell. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place. Wolsey. That's somewhat sudden; For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones, Cromwell. That Cranmer is returned with welcome Installed lord archbishop of Canterbury. Wolsey. That's news indeed! Cromwell. Last, that the lady Anne. Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, Only about her coronation. Wolsey. There was the weight that pulled me down. O Cromwell! The king has gone beyond me: all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever. No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell; I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master. Seek the king; (That sun, pray, may never set!) I have told him What and how true thou art : he will advance thee. Some little memory of me will stir him, (I know his noble nature,) not to let Thy hopeful service perish. Good Cromwell, Cromwell. O my lord! Must I then leave you? must I needs forego With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.- Wolsey. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell : And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Love thyself last cherish those hearts that hate thee: Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues: be just, and fear not. Thy God's, and truth's: then, if thou fall'st, O Crom well! Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; and,-Pr'ythee, lead me in: There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny; 'tis the king's my robe, I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! Cromwell. Good sir, have patience. Wolsey. So I have. Farewell The hopes of court: my hopes in heaven do dwell. [Exeunt.] C.-OUR COUNTRY'S CALL. WILLIAM C. BRYANT. 1. Lay down the ax, fling by the spade : For arms like yours were fitter now; Quit the light task, and learn to wield 2. Our country calls; away! away! To where the blood-stream blots the green. Strike to defend the gentlest sway That Time in all his course has seen. See, from a thousand coverts-see Spring the armed foes that haunt her track; They rush to smite her down, and we Must beat the banded traitors back. 3. Ho! sturdy as the oaks ye cleave, His serried ranks shall reel before The arm that lays the panther low. 4. And ye who breast the mountain storm A bulwark that no foe can break. As rushing squadrons bear ye thence. |