no conversational force or brilliancy, hates arguing; is as "fond of smoking as an American or a Mussulman;" passes most of his time in the country; his favorite spot being a small farmhouse near Maidstone. He is occasionally visible to his friends in London for a month or so, but to see him in his best mood you must catch him with his cigar, or under a tree lounging on the grass on lazy day." Born in Lincolnshire, it is curious to observe how the suggestions of that fenny scenery have pervaded his writings and influenced his choice of images.

"a warm,

He is reserved in his habits, has a fine intellectual face, and is very calm and self-possessed: there is an admirable picture of him by Lawrence. He is approaching his fortieth year. Lately he has been rewarded by the queen with a pension of £200 a year. We are told that she was much charmed with his ballad of Lord Burleigh; the poem being pointed out to her during her late visit to the Marquis of Exeter, at Burleigh. The pension came very opportune, he having lost most of his small patrimony in a speculation. For the especial information of our female readers, he is unmarried.

THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY.

T. B. Macaulay is the son of Zachary Macaulay, the friend of Wilberforce, and, like him, a great abolitionist.

In 1818 this distinguished writer entered himself of Trinity College, Cambridge, where he took his degree in 1822. Here he gave evidence of his great intellectual powers, obtaining a scholarship, twice gaining the Chancellor's medal for English verse; and to crown his triumphs, secured the second Craven Scholarship, the highest distinction in classics which the University confers.

Having no taste for mathematics, he did not compete for honors at graduation, but nevertheless he obtained a fellowship at the October competition open to graduates of Trinity, which he resigned on his sailing for India. He devoted much of his time to the Union Club, a debating society, where he was considered an eloquent speaker.

He then studied at Lincoln's Inn, and was called to the bar in 1826. It was in this year that his celebrated Essay on Milton appeared in the Edinburgh Review, and from this time dates the friendship of Mr. Jeffrey and Macaulay. Soon after they went the circuit together, and took the opportunity of visiting Scotland.

When the whigs came into power Mr. Macaulay was appointed Commissioner of Bankrupts, and shortly after was elected for Colne in the first Reformed Parliament. He was then made Secretary to the India Board, and in 1834 was returned as member for Leeds.

He relinquished his seat the same year on his appointment to

The sufferer, invoking his betrayer, her loveliness and her falsehood, by the memory of their former happiness, says that such a memory is a crown of sorrow

66

'Drug thy memories lest thou learn it, lest thy heart be put to proof,

In the dead unhappy night, when the rain is on the roof,

Then a hand shall pass before thee, pointing to his drunken sleep,

6

To thy widowed marriage pillow, to the tears that thou shalt weep.
Thou shalt hear the never, never,' whispered by the phantom years,
And a song from out the distance in the ringing of thine ears."

In no poem has Tennyson displayed more the peculiarity of his genius than in the lotos-eaters: the truth of the picture is heightened by the fascinations thrown round it; like a supernatural portrait, you know it to be such by the light of its halo. There is a haunting music in the lines, which seem to droop beneath the weight of their drowsy perfume.

"Where all things always seemed the same,
The mild-eyed melancholy lotos-eater came.

IV.

Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each; but whoso did receive of them
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far, far away, did seem to mourn and rave
On alien shores! and if his fellow spoke,
His voice was thin, as voices from the grave.
And deep asleep he seemed, yet all awake,
And music in his ears his beating heart did make.

V.

They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the sun and moon, upon the shore;
And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland,
Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore
Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
Then some one said, 'We will return no more;'
And all at once they sang, Our island home
Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.'"

CHORIC SONG.

I.

"There is sweet music here, that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-news on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,

Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes;

Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
Here are cool mosses deep.

And through the moss the ivies creep,

And in the stream the long-leav'd flowers weep,

And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

II.

Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,
And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
While all things else have rest from weariness?
All things have rest: why should we toil alone?
We only toil, who are the first of things,

And make perpetual moan,

Still from one sorrow to another thrown:

Nor ever fold our wings,

And cease from wanderings,

Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;
Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,-
'There is no joy but calm!'

Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?

Let us alone. What is it that will last?"

As a specimen of a great poet, in another phase, we have that wonderful condensation of the suggestive, (already referred to.)

the Supreme Council in Calcutta under the East India Company's new charter.

On his arrival in Calcutta, in September of the same year, he assumed, at the request of Lord William Bentinck, in addition to his seat at the Council, the Presidency of the Commission of Five. Here his impartiality between the Europeans and Natives was so striking as to expose him to the most malignant attacks of the selfish, the unprincipled and the proud. After supporting Lord William Bentinck in all those great reforms which he made, Mr. Macaulay returned to England in 1838.

The following year he was elected member for Edinburgh, and was shortly made Secretary at War. We shall not allude to his parliamentary life with the single exception of his conduct on the copy-right bill. Mr. Sergeant Talfourd had labored zealously on this point, and had good reason to depend upon Mr. Macaulay's support: he had appeared to coincide with him during the framing of the measure, and dining with the sergeant, a few nights before the debate in the house, had led him to count upon his support. He, however, made a strong speech against it, and forgot so far the courtesy of a gentleman as to unsparingly satirize the author of the measure.

He has lately been elected Lord Rector of the Glasgow University, and his address on the installation was greatly admired.

As a critic, essayist and historian, Mr. Macaulay may be considered as the first of our time; his style is correct and yet popular; full of glowing imagery, chastened by the truest taste.

We have often thought the Essay on Milton has been absurdly over praised, and have occasionally said. so, both in print and in conversation. We were, however, not prepared for the sweeping, and if not sincere, most affected deprecation from the author's own pen.

When his contributions to the Review were collected in three volumes Mr. Macaulay wrote a preface, in which the following paragraph appears.