Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre stroke, Then they rode back, but not-— Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them, Volleyed and thundered; All that was left of them- When can their glory fade? Honor the charge they made! Noble six hundred! The Progress of England.-Macaulay. 1. THE history of England is, emphatically, the history of progress. It is the history of a constant movement in the public mind, of a constant change in the institutions of a great society. We see that society, at the beginning of the twelfth century, in a state more miserable than the state in which the most degraded nations of the East now are. We see it subjected to the tyranny of a handful of armed foreigners. We see a strong distinction of caste separating the victorions Norman from the vanquished Saxon. 2. We see the great body of the population in a state of personal slavery. We see the most debasing and cruel superstition exercising boundless dominion over the most elevated and benevolent minds. We see the multitude sunk in brutal ignorance, and the studious few engaged in acquiring what did not deserve the name of knowledge. In the course of seven centuries the wretched and degraded race have become the greatest and most highly civilized people that the world ever saw have spread their dominion over every quarter of the globe-have scattered the seeds of mighty empires and republics over vast continents of which no dim intimation had ever reached Ptolemy or Strabo. 3. They have created a maritime power which would annihilate in a quarter of an hour the navies of Tyre, Athens, Carthage, Venice, and Genoa together-have carried the science of healing, the means of locomotion and correspondence, every mechanical art, every manufacture, everything that promotes the convenience of life, to a perfection which our ancestors would have thought magical-have produced a literature which may boast of works not inferior to the noblest which Greece has bequeathed to us-have discovered the laws which regulate the motions of the heavenly bodies-have speculated with exquisite subtilty on the operations of the human mind -have been the acknowledged leaders of the human race in the career of political improvement. 4. The history of England is the history of this great change in the moral, intellectual, and physical state of the inhabitants of our own island. There is much amusing and instructive episodical matter, but this is the main action. To us, we will own, nothing is so interesting and delightful as to contemplate the steps by which the England of the Domesday Book,* the England of the curfew and the forest laws, the England of crusaders, monks, schoolmen, astrologers", serfs, outlaws, became the England which we know and love, the classic ground of liberty and philosophy, the school of all knowledge, the mart of all trade. * The Domesday Book was a record compiled by order of William the Conqueror of all the estates of the kingdom, showing the extent, nature, and divisions of all the landed property in the several counties, with the products of each, and the woods, mines, etc., contained therein. It is still ex tant, and, in 1783, was printed by the English government. Old England.—Mary Howitt. OLD England! thou hast green and pastoral hills, And living voices of harmonious rills Under the shadow of primeval trees, Stand cheerful groups of white-walled cottages, And thou hast loving hearts, both high and low, And little children that rejoicing go And thou hast many a hill and forest glade, That to the past belong; Many a brown moor and crumbling ruin, made And wayside wells, that broad leaves overshadow, Where pilgrims knelt of old; And winding paths through many a pleasant meadow, 'Mid flowers of blue and gold,— Winding through woods where the sweet wilding's blossom Puts forth in early spring; And nodding blue-bells clothe the steep hill's bosom, And fearless blackbirds sing. And thou hast Sabbath-bells in old church-towers, Whose music thrills the air; And the sweet calm of Sabbath sunset hours, When every thought is prayer. And thou hast grassy graves set side by side,- By common griefs, by common death allied, Graves, Sabbath worship, village homes, and men, Old England, these are thine; And spots made famous by the sword and pen, And cities of old feudal date and pride, And halls of dark renown, Where kings and kingly prelates lived and died, And many a modern town. O glory-crowned England! thou hast these, The empire of the tributary seas That lave thine island shore. And wherefore is the tributary sea To bear forth knowledge, truth, and liberty To knit thee to all people; everywhere To make thine influence, like God's common air, America to Great Britain.-Allston. ALL hail! thou noble land, Our fathers' native soil! U stretch thy mighty hand, Gigantic grown by toil, O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore; For thou, with magic might, Canst reach to where the light Of Phoebus travels bright The world o'er! The genius of our clime, From his pine-embattled steep While the Tritons of the deep With their conch the kindred league shall proclaim; Then let the world combine O'er the main our naval line, Like the milky-way shall shine Bright in flame! Though ages long have passed O'er untravelled seas to roam, Yet lives the blood of England in our veins; That blood of honest fame, While the language free and bold, In which our Milton told How the vault of Heaven rung, Ten thousand echoes greet, From rock to rock repeat Round our coast; While the manners, while the arts, That moved a nation's soul, Still cling around our hearts, Our joint communion breaking with the sun; Yet still, from either beach, The voice of blood shall reach, More audible than speech, "We are one!" |