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The Anglo-Saxon like all great races — is of a composite origin; and its materials would almost seem to have been carefully selected with the view of producing a breed of singular energy, endurance and power. The Saxon hardihood, the Norman fire, the Teutonic phlegm, had long ago been molded, one would deem, for some great purpose, into one grand national stock; and to this race, when it had attained the fulness and perfection of its strength, was the conquest of America entrusted.
The original colonization of this country by the English, and the present system of internal colonization successfully prosecuted within the United States, from east to west, form a striking counterpart to the Gothic invasion of the Roman Empire, in the fifth century. The one was the irruption of barbarism upon an ancient civilization; the other, the triumph of civilization over an ancient barbarism. Each was, in a great degree, the work of the sanie race, and it would truly seem that the barbarian has begun to pay the debt which he has owed to humanity since the destruction of the Western Empire.
The civilized Goths, whose mission is now to contend with and humanize the wilderness of America, are the descendants of those Goths who for a time annihilated the ancient civilization of Europe; and the task of destruction which they so successfully accomplished, and which resulted, after all, in a great benefit to the human race, differed no less in its general nature from their present occupation. than did the instruments by which it was effected differ from those by which the conquest of America is in the course of accomplishment.
The Roman state retained, in appearance, the same gigantic proportions which belonged to it, when it sat enthroned upon the whole civilized world. It was a vast, but a hollow shell; outwardly imposing, but inwardly rotten to the core, and with the first stroke of the sword of Alaric, it crumbled into dust. The Goth was but the embodiment of the doom which had long impended over the empire of the Cæsars. He was but the appointed actor in the last scene of that historic destiny which had ruled the state since Romulus first watched the vulture's flight from the Palatine.
For purposes, inscrutable then probably, but plain enough to every human intelligence at the present day, the civilization of Europe, after having reached and passed the highest possible point of refinement, was for the time annihilated. The Goth destroyed, but he did not rebuild. Beneath the foot-print of the barbarian's war-horse, the grass withered and never revived. It was but a type of the utter exhaustion of the soil; and after the tempest had lain waste every vestige of the extraordinary culture which had, as it were, drained and impoverished the land, it lay fallow for ages before it was again susceptible of cultivation.
The colonization of America was exactly the reverse of the picture. The race that had destroyed now came forward to civilize and humanize. The Goth of the fifth century, whose courser's hoof crushed every flower in his track, reappears in the seventeenth with his hand upon the ploughshare, and cities spring up like corn-blades in every furrow which he traces through the wilderness. His task is but just begun. He has but entered upon his sublime mission; and it is to be
expected that as many centuries as elapsed before the old world was ripened for his destroying scythe, are again to be told before he is to enjoy the perfected fruits of his present labors.
How slow yon tiny vessel ploughs the main!
-Moons wax and wane,
-Forth they come From their long prison,-hardy forms, that brave The world's unkindness,-men of hoary hair, And virgins of firm heart, and matrons grave. Bleak Nature's desolation wraps them round, Eternal forests, and unyielding earth, And savage men, who through the thickets peer With vengeful arrow.-What could lure their steps To this drear desert?-Ask of him who left
His father's home to roam through Haran's wilds,
lone bark Hath spread her parting sail. –
They crowd the stand,
Long, with straining eyes
And can ye deem it strange That from their planting such a branch should bloom As nations envy?-Would a germ, embalmed With prayer's pure tear-drops, strike no deeper root Than that which mad ambition's hand doth strew
Upon the winds, to reap the winds again?
Its early clusters, crushed
“I REPOSED my weary pilgrim-limbs at last in Rome. Rome!-once the centre of the world, through which its destiny vibrated, like the crimson gush of man's existence in the human heart! How fallen now ! how sad, how desolate, how weak, how ruined! Yet who can stand in the hallowed spot of Rome's ancient power and granduer, but with silent awe and wonder ! Rome is great and powerful still; but the pasteboard show of marshalled monks and gilded priests adds noth