Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange, eventful history,

Is second childishness, and mere oblivion:
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

WOLSEY'S SOLILOQUY AFTER HIS DOWNFALL.

NAREWELL, a long farewell, to all my greatness!

FA

This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him;
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost;
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely

His greatness is a-ripening - nips his root,
And then he falls as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory;
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to –
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

WOLSEY'S ADDRESS TO CROMWELL.

ROMWELL, I did not think to shed a tear

CROM

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, vhere 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 miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd 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 Cromwell,
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 I 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.

[ocr errors]

OUR HEROES SHALL LIVE.

H, tell me not that they are dead - that generous host, that airy army of invisible heroes. They hover as a cloud of witnesses above this nation. Are they dead that yet speak louder than we can speak, and a more universal language? Are they dead that yet act? Are they dead that yet move upon society, and inspire the people with nobler motives, and more heroic patriotism?

Ye that mourn, let gladness mingle with your tears. He was your son, but now he is the nation's. He made your household bright now his example inspires a thousand households. Dear to his brothers and sisters, he is now brother to every generous

youth in the land. Before, he was narrowed, appropriated, shut up to you. Now he is augmented, set free, and given to all. Before, he was yours: he is ours. He has died from the family,

Not one name shall be for

that he might live to the nation. gotten or neglected: and it shall by-and-by be confessed of our modern heroes, as it is of an ancient hero, that he did more for his country by his death than by his whole life.

LAUS DEO!

On hearing the bells ring on the passage of the Constitutional Amendment abolishing Slavery.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

STRIVE, WAIT, AND PRAY.

TRIVE; yet I do not promise,

STRE

The prize you dream of to-day, Will not fade when you think to grasp it, And melt in your hand away; But another and holier treasure, You would now perchance disdain, Will come when your toil is over, And pay you for all your pain.

Wait; yet I do not tell you,

The hour you long for now,

Will not come with its radiance vanished,
And a shadow upon its brow;
Yet far through the misty future,
With a crown of starry light,

An hour of joy you know not
Is winging her silent flight.

[blocks in formation]
« AnteriorContinuar »