Puslapio vaizdai

PATRIOTS have toil'd, and in their country's cause Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve, Receive proud recompense. We give in charge Their names to the sweet lyre. Th' historic Muse, Proud of the treasure, marches with it down To latest times; and Sculpture, in her turn, Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass To guard them, and t' immortalize her trust: But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, To those, who, posted at the shrine of Truth, Have fall'n in her defence. A patriot's blood, Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed, And for a time ensure, to his loved land The sweets of liberty and equal laws; But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed In confirmation of the noblest claim, Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, To walk with God, to be divinely free, To soar, and to anticipate the skies.

Their ashes flew With their names

Yet few remember them. They liv'd unknown,
Till Persecution dragg'd them into fame,
And chas'd them up to Heav'n.
-No marble tells us whither.
No bard embalms and sanctifies his song:
And History, so warm on meaner themes,
Is cold on this. She execrates, indeed,
The tyranny, that doom'd them to the fire,
But gives the glorious suff'rers little praise.

He is the freeman, whom the truth makes free,
And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain,
That hellish foes, confed'rate for his harm,
Can wind around him, but he casts it off
With as much ease as Samson his



He looks abroad into the varied field
Of nature, and, though poor, perhaps, compar'd
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
His are the mountains, and the valleys his,
And the resplendent rivers. His t' enjoy

1 See Judges xvi. 7. &c.

With a propriety that none can feel,
But who, with filial confidence inspir'd,
Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say-"My father made them all."

1. In what cause do patriots suffer? 2. For what do martyrs bleed?

3. How are the names of patriots preserved ?

4. Are not martyrs who die for the Truth more deserving of grateful remembrance even than they?

5. What does the patriot win with his blood?

6. Were not the Christian martyrs generally obscure individuals?

7. How were they made known to fame?


[blocks in formation]


BOADICEA, lived in the middle of the first century, and was the wife of Prasutagus the king of the Iceni, a tribe of Britons inhabiting Norfolk and Suffolk. Prasutagus at his death bequeathed his wealth to his two daughters and to the Roman emperor. Nero was at this time emperor; and Suetonius Paulinus, a general of great skill and energy, commanded in Britain. While Suetonius was occupied in attacking the Isle of Anglesey (then called Mona,) Boadicea was scourged and her daughters violated by the orders of the Roman procurator Catus, for some cause not recorded. The crime however brought its punishment. The Iceni and their neighbours, the Trinobantes (who dwelt in what is now Essex and Middlesex), flew to arms. They first attacked and destroyed the Roman colony of Camalodunum (Colchester), and defeated a Roman legion which was coming to the relief of the place, under the command of Petilius Cerialis. The insurgents also massacred the Romans at Verolamium (St. Alban's), and at London, which was then famous for its commerce. Tacitus says that the Romans and their allies were destroyed to the number of 70,000, many of whom perished under torture.

Suetonius hastened to the scene of this revolt; and met the Britons (A.D. 61), who were commanded by Boadicea, with her two daughters, and totally defeated them with a dreadful carnage. Tacitus, a nearly contemporary historian, estimates the destruction at 80,000 persons. Boadicea, he tells us, killed herself by poison.—Knight's Cyclopædia.

[blocks in formation]

Princess! if our aged eyes

Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,
'Tis because resentment ties
All the terrors of our tongues.

Rome shall perish-write that word
In the blood that she has spilt;
Perish hopeless and abhorr'd,
Deep in ruin as in guilt.

Rome, for empire far renown'd,
Tramples on a thousand states;
Soon her pride shall kiss the ground-
Hark! the Gaul is at her gates!

Other Romans shall arise,

Heedless of a soldier's name;
Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize,
Harmony the path to fame.1

Then the progeny 2 that springs
From the forests of our land,
Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings,
Shall a wider world command.

Regions Cæsar never knew,
Thy posterity shall sway;
Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they.3

Such the Bard's prophetic words,
Pregnant with celestial fire,
Bending as he swept the chords
Of his sweet but awful lyre.

She, with all a monarch's pride,
Felt them in her bosom glow:
Rush'd to battle, fought and died;
Dying, hurl'd them at the foe.

Ruffians, pitiless as proud,

Heaven awards the vengeance due;

Empire is on us bestow'd,

Shame and ruin wait for you.


1 The modern Romans, the Italians, are passionately fond of music.

2 The ships of England.

3 The British, not the Romans.

1. Who was Boadicea and when did | she flourish?

2. What kind of man was the Emperor Nero ?

3. Who commanded the Roman forces in Britain?

4. By whom were Boadicea and her daughters cruelly used?

5. Where dwelt the British tribes called Iceni, and where the Trinobantes ?

6. How did these people act on learning the usage of Boadicea and her daugh

ters ?

7. How many of the Romans are they said to have killed?

8. With what success did Suetonius attack them?

9. What was the melancholy end of the noble Boadicea?

10. What was the religion of these ancient Britons ?

11. Where did they perform their sacred rites?

12. Where was the priest found to whom Boadicea applied for advice?

13. What was to befall Rome?
14. Why MUST she perish?

15. Will not God punish nations as well as individuals for shedding innocent blood?

16. Who are the "other Romans"?

17. Is the British empire now, much more extensive than ever the ancient Roman empire was?

18. Explain to me the seventh verse. 19. Who first led the Romans into Britain ?

20. What effect had the sage's words on the Queen?

21. On whom is the empire now be stowed?

22. Does the ancient Roman empire now exist?


ATHELNEY, a small tract of about 100 acres in County Somerset, formerly an isle at the junction of the Tone and Parrot rivers. Here Alfred the Great found a refuge during a Danish invasion, and founded an Abbey in 888. He was so reduced that he was obliged to conceal himself in woods and mountain fastnesses, with only a very small troop. Ancient history tells us that he for a time sought refuge with one of his cowherds; who it seems so faithfully kept his master's secret, that he did not even tell his wife that the king was their guest. One day, while sitting near the fire pointing some arrows and making a bow, she had set him to turn some cakes which she had left upon the fire; owing to Alfred's neglect the cakes were burnt, for which she chid him, saying, that he was "good at eating cakes, but bad at turning them"" For some account of King Alfred you may consult page 116 of this Collection.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

Alfred discovered trimming some arrows, with an unfinished bow beside him-Maude kneading flour for cakes.

Maude [aside.] Ay, there he's at his work! if work that be Which spareth toil. He'll trim a shaft, or shape

A bow with any archer in the land,

But neither can he plough, nor sow!—I doubt
If he can dig-I am sure he cannot reap—

He has hands and arms, but not the use of them!


Alf. Your will?

Maude. Would thou could'st do my will As readily as ask it! Go to the door;

And look if Edwin comes.

Alf. No.

Dost see him?

Maude. Bad omen that!
Else were he home ere now.
And lay the logs on end; you'll learn in time
To make a fire. Why, what a litter's there,
With trimming of your shafts that never hit!
Ten days ago you killed a sorry buck;
Since when your quiver have you emptied thrice,
Nor ruffled hair nor feather.

He'll bring an empty creel;
Put on more wood;

Alf. If the game

Are scarce and shy, I cannot help it.

Maude. Out!

Your aim I wot is shy, your labour scarce;

There's game enow, would'st thou but hunt for them;
And when you find them, hit them. What expect'st
To-day for dinner?

Alf. What Heaven sends!
Maude. Suppose

It sends us nought?

Alf. Its will be done!

Maude. You'd starve;

So would not I, knew I to bend a bow
Or cast a line. See if thou hast the skill
To watch these cakes, the while they toast.
Alf. I'll do

My best.

Maude. Nor much to brag of, when all's done! [Goes out. Alf. [alone] This is the lesson of dependence. Will Thankless, that brings not profit ;-labour spurned That sweats in vain; and patience taxed the more, The more it bears. And taught unto a kingTaught by a peasant's wife, whom fate hath made Her sovereign's monitress. She little knows At whom she rails; yet is the roof her own: Nor does she play the housewife grudgingly.

Give her her humour! So! How stands the account

« AnkstesnisTęsti »