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I come not here to talk. You know too well
The story of our thralldom. We are slaves!
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights
A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam
Falls on a slave: not such as, swept along
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads
To crimson glory and undying fame;

But base, ignoble slaves! slaves to a horde
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords,
Rich in some dozen paltry villages;

Strong in some hundred spearmen; only great
In that strange spell,―a name.

Each hour, dark fraud,

Or open rapine, or protected murder,

Cries out against them. But this very day,
An honest man, my neighbor,—there he stands,
Was struck, struck like a dog, by one who wore
The badge of Ursini; because, forsooth,
He tossed not high his ready cap in air,
Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts,
At sight of that great ruffian!

And suffer such dishonor'?
The stain away in blood'?

(f.) Be we men,

MEN, and wash not

Such shames are common !

I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye,
I had a brother once, a gracious boy,

Full of gentleness, of calmest hope,

Of sweet and quiet joy: there was the look

Of heaven upon his face, which limners give
To the beloved disciple!

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That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years,
Brother at once, and son! He left my side,
A summer bloom on his fair cheek,—a smile
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour,
That pretty, harmless boy was slain! (p.) I saw
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried

For vengeance! (f.) Rouse ye, Romans!—ROUSE YE, SLAVES!
ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl
To see them die! Have ye fair daughters? Look
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained,
Dishonored; and, if ye dare call for justice,
Be answered by the lash!


Yet this is Rome,

That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne
Of beauty, ruled the world! Yet we are Romans !
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman,

Was greater than a king! And once again,—
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
Of either Brutus! Once again I swear,
The eternal city shall be free!

QUESTIONS.-1. In what condition did the writer say the Roman people were? 2. What wrongs are complained of? 3. What special cases are mentioned? 4. What are the people exhorted to do? 5. What is the meaning of the suffix dom, in the word thralldom? See ANALYSIS, page 142, Ex. 189. 6. What is the meaning of the suffix less, in the word harmless? See page 140, Ex. 187. 7. How, according to the notation mark, should the first part of the third verse be read? 8. What rule for the rising inflections, third verse? See page 28, Rule I.


MULTI PLY, increase; continue.
COL' TER, part of the plow that cuts
GE' NI AL, productive. [the sod.
BE NIG NANT, kind; bounteous.
SÄUN' TER ING, loitering.

WOOD' BINE, honeysuckle.

Po' TENT, powerful.

ROAD' STEAD, place where ships
may anchor.

RE LI' ANT, trusting; depending.
PES TI LEN' TIAL, infectious; noxious.
PER PET U AL, continual.

RE SPLENDENT, splendid; beautiful.STER' ILE, barren.

I LE ON I DAS, the celebrated Spartan leader who, with three hundred men, perished in the effort to resist the Persian hosts, at the mountain pass of Thermopyla (B. C., 480.)

2 MARS' TON, that is, Marston Moor, a place in Yorkshire, England, memorable for the defeat of Charles I., (in 1644,) by the forces of Cromwell and others.

3 BAN' NOCK BURN, a village in Stirlingshire, Scotland, famous for the battle between the patriots, under Robert Bruce, and the English invading army, under Edward II., fought, June 25, 1314.

✦ AR MA' DA, a great naval armament sent by Philip II. of Spain, in 1588, for the conquest of England. It failed utterly, however, of its object, boxing been scattered and disabled by violent storms.


1. CLANG! clang! the massive anvils ring,—
Clang! clang! a hundred hammers swing,
Like the thunder-rattle of a tropic sky,

The mighty blows still multiply:

Clang! clang!

Say, brothers of the dusky brow,
What are your strong arms forging now?

2. Clang! clang!-we forge the colter now-
The colter of the kindly plow;

Benignant Father, bless our toil;
May its broad furrow still unbind
To genial rains, to sun and wind,
The most productive soil!

3. Clang! clang!—our colter's course shall be On many a sweet and sunny lea,

By many a streamlet's silver tide,
Amidst the song of morning birds,
Amidst the low of sauntering herds,
Amidst soft breezes which do stray
Through woodbine-hedges and sweet May,
Along the green hill's side.

4. When regal Autumn's bounteous hand,
With wide-spread glory clothes the land,-
When, to the valleys, from the brow
Of each resplendent slope, is rolled
A ruddy sea of living gold,

We bless, we bless the PLOW.


5. Clang! clang!—again, my mates, what glows
Beneath the hammer's potent blows?
Clink! clank!-we forge the giant chain,
Which bears the gallant vessel's strain,
'Midst stormy winds and adverse tides;
Secured by this, the good ship braves
The rocky roadstead and the waves
Which thunder on her sides.

6. Anxious no more, the merchant sees
The mist drive dark before the breeze,
The storm-cloud on the hill;

Calmly he rests, though, far away
In boisterous climes, his vessel lay
Reliant on our skill.

7. Say, on what sands these links shall sleep,. Fathoms beneath the solemn deep'?

By Afric's pestilential shore',-
By many an iceberg, lone and hoar',-
By many a palmy western isle,

Basking in spring's perpetual smile',—
By stormy Labrador'?

8. Say, shall they feel the vessel reel,
When, to the battery's deadly peal,
The crashing broadside makes reply'?
Or else, as at the glorious Nile,

Hold grappling ships, that strive the while,
For death or victory'?

9. Hurrah!-cling! clang!-once more, what glows, Dark brothers of the forge, beneath

The iron tempest of your blows

The furnace's fiery breath?

10. Clang! clang!—a burning torrent, clear And brilliant, of bright sparks is poured Around and up in the dusky air,


As our hammers forge the SWORD.

The sword!—a name of dread; yet when
Upon the freeman's thigh 'tis bound,

While for his altar and his hearth,-
While for the land that gave him birth,
The war-drums roll, the trumpets sound,
How sacred is it then!

12. Whenever for the truth and right
It flashes in the van of fight,

Whether in some wild mountain pass
As that where fell Leonidas;'

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