Cæsar in Gaul, and felt the heavy hand of Drusus. The two races, the Latin and the Teutonic (neither of them dreamed that they were both sprung from a common Mother), were now brought fairly face to face. Our forefathers, let us hope, bore their share in the great fight, when the German hero smote Varus and his legions; we English should think less of Caractacus and Boadicea, more of Arminius and Velleda. Hitherto we have puzzled out our history from the words used by ourselves and our kin, without help from annalists; now at length the clouds roll away, and Tacitus shows us the Angli, sheltered by their forests and rivers, the men who worshipped Mother Earth, in her own sea-girt island, not far from the Elbe. Little did the great historian guess of the future that lay before the barbarians, whom he held up to his worthless countrymen with so skilful a pen. Some of these Teutonic tribes were to take the place of Rome and become the lords of her Empire, to bear her Eagle and boast her titles; others of them, later in the world's history, were to rule more millions of subjects than Rome could ever claim, and were to found new empires on shores to her unknown. She had indeed done great things in law and literature; but her Senate might well have learned a lesson of public spirit from the assemblies held by these barbarians, assemblies to which we can trace a likeness in the later councils held in Wessex, Friesland, Uri, Norway. Rome's most renowned poets were to be outdone by Teuton Makers, men who would soar aloft upon bolder wing into the Unseen and the Unknown, and who would
