Dragged from among the horses' feet, "Where's Harry Blount? Fitz Eustace where ? Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare! Redeem my pennon, Cry — 'Marmion to the rescue ! ' — vain ! Last of my race, on battle-plain That shout shall ne'er be heard again! Tell him his squadrons up to bring. Tunstall lies dead upon the field, His life-blood stains the spotless shield: Let Stanley charge with spur of fire, - Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring To slake my dying thirst?" O, woman! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou! Scarce were the piteous accents said, Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears; She stooped her by the runnel's side, Where water, clear as diamond-spark, In a stone basin fell. Above, some half-worn letters say, A monk supporting Marmion's head; To shrive the dying, bless the dead. Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, And, as she stooped his brows to lave,"Is it the hand of Clare," he said, "Or injured Constance, bathes my head?" Then, as remembrance rose, "Speak not to me of shrift or prayer! I must redress her woes. Short space, few words, are mine to spare; Forgive and listen, gentle Clare!"— "Alas!" she said, “the while, O, think of your immortal weal! Lord Marmion started from the ground, For wasting fire, and dying groan, It may not be! this dizzy trance With fruitless labor Clara bound, And strove to stanch the gushing wound. "In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, "Avoid thee, Fiend! - with cruel hand O, think on faith and bliss! The war, that for a space did fail, A light on Marmion's visage spread, With dying hand above his head, He shook the fragment of his blade, And shouted, "Victory! Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!" Were the last words of Marmion. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in England, April 23, 1564; and died April 23, 1616. Very little is known of the events of his life, and of his personal character and habits. He married young, went to London soon after his marriage, became an actor, a dramatic author, and a shareholder in one of the London theaters; acquired considerable property, and retired to his native place a few years before his death, and there lived in ease and honor. He was the author of thirtyfive plays (rejecting those of doubtful authenticity), written between 1590 and 1613, besides poems and sonnets. Shakespeare is pronounced by Mr Hallam, who was a most conscientious critic and careful writer, to be the greatest name in all literature. It would, of course, be im possible, in the compass of a notice like this, to do anything like justice to the universality of his powers, his boundless fertility of invention, his dramatic judgment, his wit, humor, and pathos, his sharp observation, and his profound knowledge of the human heart. Nor is it easy to point out to the young reader, within a reasonable compass, the best sources of information and criticism; for the editions of Shakespeare are numberless, and the books that have been written about him would alone make a considerable library. The following works, however, may be read and consulted with profit: Drake's "Shakespeare and his Times," "Hazlitt's Lectures," Mrs. Jameson's "Characteristics of Women," Dr. Johnson's preface, Schlegel's "Lectures on Dramatic Literature," Coleridge's "Lectures on Shakespeare," the notes and introductory notices in Knight's pictorial edition, together with the biography prefixed, and, especially, the criticism upon Shakespeare contained in Hallam's Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries. Shakespeare's life and writings teach two lessons; which, as they are not very obvious to the apprehension of the young, and as they have a somewhat practical bearing upon life, may be here set down. He is an instance directly opposed to the Byronic notion, that great genius and great unhappiness invariably go together. We have every reason to believe that his temperament was cheerful and joyous, and that is certainly the spirit of his writings. He is often tragic, but never morbid. In the next place, Shakespeare is a proof that the highest poetical genius is not inconsistent with practical and successful business habits. There can be no doubt that he was himself an excellent man of business, for he accumulated an ample fortune within a few years, and by occupations in which punctuality, economy, and method are particularly important. K ING. What's he, that wishes for more men from England? My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin ; To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honor. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; I am the most offending soul alive. No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England: |