Mary Russell Mitford, 1786-1855. She was the daughter of a physician, and
was born in Hampshire, England. At twenty years of age, she published
three volumes of poems; and soon after entered upon literature as a
lifelong occupation. She wrote tales, sketches, poems, and dramas. "Our
Village" is the best known of her prose works; the book describes the
daily life of a rural people, is simple but finished in style, and is
marked by mingled humor and pathos. Her most noted drama is "Rienzi." Miss
Mitford passed the last forty years of her life in a little cottage in
Berkshire, among a simple, country people, to whom she was greatly
endeared by her kindness and social virtues.
###
I come not here to talk. You know too well
The story of our thraldom. We are slaves!
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights
A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beams
Fall on a slave; not such as, swept along
By the full tide of power, the conqueror led
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! Be we men,
And suffer such dishonor? men, and wash not
The stain away in blood? Such shames are common.
I have known deeper wrongs; I that speak to ye,
I had a brother once--a gracious boy,
Full of all 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.
How I loved
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! I saw
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried
For vengeance! Rouse, ye Romans! rouse, ye slaves!
Have 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! and 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.
NOTES.--Rienzi (b. about 1312, d. 1354) was the last of the Roman
tribunes. In 1347 he led a successful revolt against the nobles, who by
their contentions kept Rome in constant turmoil. He then assumed the title
of tribune, but, after indulging in a life of reckless extravagance and
pomp for a few months, he was compelled to abdicate, and fly for his life.
In 1354 he was reinstated in power, but his tyranny caused his
assassination the same year.
The Ursini wore one of the noble families of Rome.
This lesson is especially adapted for drill on inflection, emphasis, and
modulation.