With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.-
The king shall have my service; but my prayers,
For ever and for ever, shall be yours.

Wolsey. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell:
And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,

And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of,-say I taught thee,
Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor,
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one though thy master missed it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?

Love thyself last cherish those hearts that hate thee:
Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues: be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,

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,

And my integrity to heaven, is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! Had but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. Cromwell. Good sir, have patience. Wolsey.

So I have. Farewell

The hopes of court: my hopes in heaven do dwell.

i

[Exeunt.]

C.-OUR COUNTRY'S CALL.

WILLIAM C. BRYANT.

1. Lay down the ax, fling by the spade :
Leave in its track the toiling plow;
The rifle and the bayonet-blade

For arms like yours were fitter now;
And let the hands that ply the pen
Quit the light task, and learn to wield
The horseman's crooked brand, and rein
The charger on the battle-field.

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,

And moved as soon to fear and flight,
Men of the glade and forest! leave
Your woodcraft for the field of fight.
The arms that wield the ax must pour
An iron tempest on the foe;

His serried ranks shall reel before
The arm that lays the panther low.

4. And

ye who breast the mountain storm
By grassy steep or highland lake,
Come, for the land ye love, to form

A bulwark that no foe can break.
Stand, like your own gray cliffs that mock
The whirlwind; stand in her defense:
The blast as soon shall move the rock,

As rushing squadrons bear ye thence.

5. And ye whose homes are by her grand
Swift rivers, rising far away,

Come from the depth of her green land
As mighty in your march as they;
As terrible as when the rains

Have swelled them over bank and bourne,
With sudden floods to drown the plains
And sweep along the woods uptorn.

6. And ye who throng, beside the deep,
Her ports and hamlets of the strand,
In number like the waves that leap

On his long murmuring marge of sand,
Come, like that deep, when o'er his brim
He rises, all his floods to pour,
And flings the proudest barks that swim,
A helpless wreck against his shore.

7. Few, few were they whose swords of old
Won the fair land in which we dwell;
But we are many, we who hold

The grim resolve to guard it well.
Strike for that broad and goodly land

Blow after blow, till men shall see
That Might and Right move hand in hand;
And glorious must their triumph be.

QUESTIONS.-Is this a descriptive, a narrative, or a pathetic poem? If it is none of these, how will you describe it? Tell exactly how it ought to be read,―with what pitch, force, volume, and quality of voice.

First Stanza.

Who are called upon to "lay

[This poem was written in 1861.]

down the ax"? Why? Why is the plow called

"the toiling plow"? Why are "the rifle and the bayonetblade" fitter for the arms of these men "now"? What is "the horseman's crooked brand"?

Second Stanza.

What is meant by "the gentlest sway that Time in all his course has seen"? Whose "track" is meant in the sixth line?

Third Stanza.

Who are addressed in this stanza? What is meant by the word "glade"? Explain the fifth and sixth lines. What is an "iron tempest"? Meaning of " serried"?

Sixth Stanza.

To whom is this stanza addressed? What are "hamlets of the strand"? Whose "ports and hamlets" are meant in the second line?

Seventh Stanza.

Who are alluded to in the first line? What does this piece teach? Is the lesson a good one?

CI.-A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP.

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

1. Noon, by the north clock! Noon, by the east! High noon, too, by these hot sunbeams, which fall, scarcely aslope, upon my head, and almost make the water bubble and smoke, in the trough under my nose. Truly we public characters have a tough time of it! And, among all the town officers, chosen at March meeting, where is he that sustains, for a single year, the burden of such manifold duties as are imposed, in perpetuity, upon the Town Pump.

2. The title of " town treasurer" is rightfully mine, as guardian of the best treasure that the town has. The overseers of the poor ought to make me their chairman, since I provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the fire department, and one of the physicians to the board of health. As a keeper of the peace, all water drinkers will confess me equal

to the constable. I perform some of the duties of the townclerk, by promulgating public notices, when they are posted on my front.

3. To speak within bounds, I am the chief person of the municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern to my brother officers, by the cool, steady, upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my business, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter, nobody seeks me in vain; for, all day long, I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich and poor alike; and at night, I hold a lantern over my head, both to show where I am, and keep people out of the gutters.

4. At the sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. Like a dram-seller on the mall,* at muster day, I cry aloud to all and sundry, in my plainest accents, and at the very tiptop of my voice. Here it is, gentlemen! Here is the good liquor! Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, walk up, walk up! Here is the superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale of father Adam-better than Cognac, Hollands, Jamaica, strong beer, or wine of any price; here it is, by the hogshead or the single glass, and not a cent to pay! Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and help yourselves!

5. It were a pity, if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they come. A hot day, gentlemen! Quaff, and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice cool sweat. You, my friend, will need another cupful, to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on

your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half a score of miles to-day; and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and stopped at the running brooks and well curbs. Otherwise, betwixt heat without and fire within, you would have been burned to a cinder, or melted down to nothing at all, in the fashion of a jelly fish. Drink, and make room for that other fellow, who seeks my aid to quench the fiery fever of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup of mine.

* A public enclosure shaded by trees, and used (in Salem, Mass.) for public gatherings.