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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 5 Have left me naked to mine enemies.

Crom. Good sir, have patience.

So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.


WORDSWORTH. (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH was born at Cockermouth, in the county of Cum berland, England, April 7, 1770, and died April 23, 1850. His life was passed for the most part in that beautiful region of England where he was born, and with which so much of his poetry is inseparably associated. He made his first appearance as an author in 1793, by the publication of a thin quarto volume of poems, which did not attract much attention. Indeed, for many years his poetry made little impression on the general public, and that not of a favor:. ble kind. The “Edinburgh Review,” – the great authority in matters of literary taste-jet its face against him; and Wordsworth's own style and mar.ner were so peculiar, and so unlike those of the poetry which was popular at the time, that he was obliged to create the taste by which he himself wae judged. As time went on, his influence and popularity increased, and many years before his death he enjoyed a fame and consideration which in calmness and serenity resembled the unbiassed judgment of posterity.

Wordsworth's popularity has never been of that comprehensive kind which Scott and Byron possessed. He had many intense admirers; but there were also many who were insensible to his claims, and many why admired him only with qualifications and limitations. He is often cold, languid, and prosaic. He is deficient in the power of presenting pictures. He often attempts to give poetical interest to themes which lie entirely out of the domain of poetry. He has no humor, and no sense of the ludicrous; and many of his poems are obnoxious to the attack of ridicule.

But on the other hand, there are very great and enduring excellences. Among these are most careful precision and accuracy of diction, a minute acquaintance and deep sympathy with nature, power and tenderness in the expression of the domestic affections, a philosophical insight into the workings of the human soul, lofty dignity of sentiment, and in his best passages, a serene, imaginative grandeur akin to that of Milton.

Wordsworth's character was pure and high. He was reserved in manner, and somewhat exclusive in his tastes and sympathies; but his friends were warmly attached to him. His domestic affections were strong and deep.

His life has been published, since his decease, by his nephew, the Rev. Christopher Wordsworth, and republished in this country. In Coleridge's “Biog

raphia Literaria,” there is an admirable review of his poetical genius, in which praise is bestowed generously and discriminatingly, and defects are pointed out with a loving and reverent hand.

The following extract is from the seventh book of “The Excursion," a de«criptive and philosophical poem in twelve books.]

ALMOST at the root
Of that tall pine, the shadow of whose bare
And slender stem, while here I sit at eve,
Oft stretches towards me like a long straight path,
Traced faintly in the greensward ; there, beneath
A plain blue stone, a gentle dalesman lics,
From whom, in early childhood; was withdrawn
The precious gift of hearing.

He grew up
From year to year in loneliness of soul ;
And this deep mountain valley was to him
Soundless with all its streams. The bird of dawn
Did never rouse this cottager from sleep
With startling summons: not for his delight
The vernal cuckoo shouted; not for him
Murmured the laboring bee. When stormy winds
Were working the broad bosom of the lake
Into a thousand thousand sparkling waves,
Rocking the trees, and driving cloud on cloud,
Along the sharp edge of yon lofty crags,
The agitated scene before his eye
Was silent as a picture : evermore
Were all things silent wheresoe'er he moved.

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Yet, by the solace of his own pure thoughts
Upheld, he duteously pursued the round
Of rural labors; the steep mountain-side
Ascended with his staff and faithful dog ;
The plough he guided, and the scythe he swayed ;
And the ripe corn before his sickle fell
Among the jocund reapers. For himself,

All watchful and industrious as he was,
He wrought not; neither field nor flock he owned:
No wish for wealth had place within his mind;
Nor husband's love, nor father's hope or care.

4 Though born a younger brother, need was none

That from the floor of his paternal home
He should depart, to plant himself anew.
And when, mature in manhood, he beheld
His parents laid in earth, no loss ensued
Of rights to him ; but he remained well pleased,
By the pure bond of independent love,
An inmate of a second family,
The fellow laborer and friend of him
To whom the small inheritance had fallen.

Nor deem that his mild presence was a weight
That pressed upon his brother's house ; fur books
Were ready comrades whom he could not tire,
Of whose society the blameless man
Was never satiate. Their familiar voice,
Even to old age, with unabated charm
Beguiled his leisure hours ; refreshed his thoughts ;
Beyond its natural elevation raised
His introverted spirit; and bestowed
Upon his life an outward dignity
Which all acknowledged. The dark winter night,
The stormy day, had each its own resource —
Song of the muses, sage historic tale,
Science severe, or word of holy writ
Announcing immortality and joy
To the assembled spirits of the just,
From imperfection and decay secure.

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Thus soothed at home, thus busy in the field,
To no perverse suspicion he gave way,

No languor, peevishness, nor vain complaint :
And they who were about him did not fail
In reverence, or in courtesy; they prized
His gentle manners; and his peaceful smiles,
TŁe gleams of his slow-varying countenance,
Were met with answering sympathy and love.

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At length, when sixty years and five were told,
A slow disease insensibly consumed
The powers of nature; and a few short steps
Of friends and kindred bore him from his home
(Yon cottage shaded by the woody crags)
To the profounder stillness of the grave.
Nor was his funeral denied the grace
Of many tears, virtuous and thoughtful grief,
Heart-sorrow rendered sweet by gratitude.

And now that monumental stone preserves
His name, and unambitiously relates
How long, and by what kindly outward aids,
Anù in what pure contentedness of mind,
The sad privation was by him endured.
And yon tall pine-tree, whose composing sound
Was wasted on the good man's living ear,
Hath now its own peculiar sanctity;
And, at the touch of every wandering breeze,
Murmurs, not idly, o'er his peaceful grave.


EVERETT. [From an address at the dedication of the Everett School IIouse Boston September 17, 1860.]

The school-house, whose dedication we are assembled to witness, is for the accommodation of a girls' school; and this circumstance seems to invite a few words on female education. There is a good deal of discussion at the present day on the subject of Women's Rights. No one would be willing to allow that he wished to deprive them of their rights,

and the only difficulty seems to be to settle what their 5 rights are. The citizens of Boston, acting by their munici

pal representatives, have long since undertaken to answer this question in a practical way (always better than a metaphysical solution of such questions), as far as a city

government can do it, by admitting the right of the girls 10 to have, at the public expense, as good an education as the

boys. It is not in the power of the city to amend our constitutions, if amendment it would be, so as to extend political privileges to the gentler sex, nor to alter the legislation

which regulates the rights of property. But it was in the 15 power of the city to withhold or to grant equal privileges

of education; and it has decided that the free grammar schools of Boston should be open alike to boys and girls.

This seems to me not only a recognition, at the outset, of the most important of Women's Rights — equal partici20 pation in these institutions — but the best guaranty that,

if in anything else the sex is unjustly or unfairly dealt with, the remedy will come in due time. With the acknowledged equality of woman in general intellectual en

dowments, though tending in either sex to an appropriate 25 development; with her admitted superiority to man in tact,

sensibility, physical and moral endurance, quickness of perception, and power of accommodation to circumstances, — give her for two or three generations equal advantages

of mental culture, and the lords of creation, as you, Mr. 30 Chairman, have called them, will have to carry more guns

than they do at present, to keep her out of the enjoyment of anything, which sound reasoning and fair experiment shall show to be of her rights.

I have, however, strong doubts, whether, tried by this 35 test, the result would be a participation in the performance

of the political duties which the experience of the human

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