with fiery breath, and sends his tireless hoofs thundering across the longitudes. It is the power of the sea that is doing for man all those mightiest works that would be else impossible. It is by this power that he is to level the 5 mountains, to tame the wildernesses, to subdue the continents, to throw his pathways around the globe, and make his nearest approaches to omnipresence and omnipotence. LXXXV. SCENE AFTER A SUMMER SHOWER. NORTON. [ANDREWS NORTON was born in Hingham, Mass., December 31, 1786, and died September 18, 1853. He was for many years a professor in the divinity school of Harvard College, and remarkable for the union of deep devotional feeling with sharp critical spirit in the interpretation of the Scriptures. His prose style is admirable for precision, vigor, and elegance. His poems are few, but of uncommon beauty in conception and expression.] 1 THE rain is o'er - How dense and bright Yon pearly clouds reposing lie! 2 In grateful silence earth receives The general blessing; fresh and fair, 3 The softened sunbeams pour around 4 Mid yon rich clouds' voluptuous pile, Then turn to bathe and revel there. The sun breaks forth: from off the scene, With trembling drops of light is hung. 6 Now gaze on Nature yet the same, Fresh in her youth from God's own hand. 7 Hear the rich music of that voice Which sounds from all below, above; And round them throws her arms of love. 8 Drink in her influence: low-born care, Refuse to breath this holy air, And mid this living light expire. [THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY, was born in the village of Rothley, in the county of Leicester, England, October 25, 1800, and died December 28, 1859. He was educated at Cambridge University, and was called to the bar in 1826. In 1830 he became a member of parliament, and took an active part in the debates on the Reform Bill. In 1834 he was sent to India as a member of the supreme council. Returning home in 1838, he was again elected to parliament in 1839, and was appointed secretary of war. At the election of 1847 he was defeated, and remained out of parliament till 1852, when he again became a member. He was created a peer of England, with the title of Baron Macaulay of Rothley, in 1857. His principal literary work is a History of England, in five volumes, the last a fragmentary volume published since his lamented death. No historical work in the English language has ever enjoyed so wide a popularity. It is written in a most animated and attractive style, and abounds with brilliant pictures. It embodies the results of very thorough research, and its tone and spirit are generous and liberal. His essays, most of which were originally contributed to the "Edinburgh Review," have had a popularity greater even than that of his History. They are remarkable for brilliant rhetorical power, splendid coloring, and affluence of illustration. Lord Macaulay has also written "Lays of Ancient Rome," and some ballads in the same style, which are full of animation and energy, and have the true trumpet ring which stirs the soul and kindles the blood. His parliamentary speeches have been also collected and published, and are marked by the same brilliant rhetorical energy as his writings. The following account of the death and character of John Hampden, the great English patriot, is taken from a review of Lord Nugent's Memorials of Hampden, published in.the "Edinburgh Review," in 1831. In June, 1643, Prince Rupert, a nephew of Charles I., and a general in his service, had sallied out from Oxford on a predatory expedition, and, after some slight successes, was preparing to hurry back with his prisoners and booty. The Earl of Essex was the Parliamentary commander-in-chief.] As soon as Hampden received intelligence of Rupert's incursion, he sent off a horseman with a message to the general. In the mean time, he resolved to set out with all the cavalry he could muster, for the purpose of im5 peding the march of the enemy till Essex could take measures for cutting off their retreat. A considerable body of horse and dragoons volunteered to follow him. He was He did not even belong to their 'But he was," says Lord Clarenbut the general himself in the On the field of A fierce skirmish observance and application of all men.” Chalgrove he came up with Rupert. ensued. In the first charge Hampden was struck in the shoulder by two bullets, which broke the bone and lodged 15 in his body. The troops of the parliament lost heart and gave way. Rupert, after pursuing them for a short time. hastened to cross the bridge, and made his retreat unmolested to Oxford. Hampden, with his head drooping, and his hands lean20 ing on his horse's neck, moved feebly out of the battle. The mansion which had been inhabited by his father-inlaw, and from which, in his youth, he had carried home his bride Elizabeth, was in sight. There still remains an affecting tradition that he looked for a moment towards that beloved house, and made an effort to go thither and 5 die. But the enemy lay in that direction. He turned his horse towards Thame, where he arrived almost fainting with agony. The surgeons dressed his wounds. But there was no hope. The pain which he suffered was most excruciating. But he endured it with admirable firmness and resignation. His first care was for his country. He wrote from his bed several letters to London, concerning public affairs, and sent a last pressing message to the head-quarters, recom10 mending that the dispersed forces should be concentrated. When his public duties were performed, he calmly prepared himself to die. He was attended by a clergyman of the church of England, with whom he had lived in habits of intimacy, and by the chaplain of the Bucking15 hamshire Greencoats, Dr. Spurton, whom Baxter describes as a famous and excellent divine. A short time before his death, the sacrament was administered to him. His intellect remained unclouded. When all was nearly over, he lay murmuring faint prayers 20 for himself, and for the cause in which he died. "Lord Jesus," he exclaimed, in the moment of the last agony, "receive my soul. O Lord, save my country. O Lord, 25 In that broken ejaculation passed away his noble and fearless spirit. He was buried in the parish church of Hampden. His soldiers, bareheaded, with reversed arms and muffled drums and colors, escorted his body to the grave, singing, as they marched, that lofty and melancholy psalm in which the fragility of human life is contrasted with the immutability 30 of Him to whom a thousand years are as yesterday when it is passed, and as a watch in the night. The news of Hampden's death produced as great a consternation in his party, according to Clarendon, as if their whole army had been cut off. The journals of the time 35 amply prove that the parliament and all its friends were filled with grief and dismay. Lord Nugent has quoted a 66 remarkable passage from the next "Weekly Intelligencer: The loss of Colonel Hampden goeth near the heart of every man that loves the good of his king and country, and makes some conceive little content to be at 5 the army, now that he is gone. The memory of this deceased colonel is such, that in no age to come but it will more and more be had in honor and esteem; a man so religious, and of that prudence, judgment, temper, valor, and integrity, that he hath left few his like behind." He had indeed left none his like behind him. There still remained, indeed, in his party many acute intellects, many eloquent tongues, many brave and honest hearts. There still remained a rugged and clownish soldier, half fanatic, half buffoon, whose talents, discerned 15 as yet only by one penetrating eye, were equal to all the highest duties of the soldier and the prince. But in Hampden, and in Hampden alone, were united all the qualities which at such a crisis were necessary to save the state, the valor and energy of Cromwell, the discern20 ment and eloquence of Vane, the humanity and moderation of Manchester, the stern integrity of Hale, the ardent public spirit of Sydney. Others might possess the qualities which were necessary to save the popular party in the crisis of danger; he alone had both the power and the 25 inclination to restrain its excesses in the hour of triumph. Others could conquer; he alone could reconcile. A heart as bold as his brought up the cuirassiers who turned the tide of battle on Marston Moor. As skilful an eye as his watched the Scotch army descending from the 30 heights over Dunbar. But it was when, to the sullen tyranny of Laud and Charles had succeeded the fierce conflict of sects and factions, ambitious of ascendency and burning for revenge, — it was when the vices and ignorance which the old tyranny had generated threatened the new * Cromwell, |