“There lives the marble, wrought by art. That clime the youth would gain; he braves The ocean’s fury, and his heart Leaps in him, like the sunny waves That bear him onward; and the light Of hope within his bosom beams, Like the phosphoric ray at night That round the prow so cheerly gleams. But still his eye would backward turn, And still his bosom warmly burn, As towards new worlds he ’gan to roam, With love for Freedom’s Western home.” This is the opening poem; the closing words of the book, at the end of the final “Pictures of Rome,” are in a distinctly patriotic strain:— “Farewell to Rome; how lovely in distress; How sweet her gloom; how proud her wilderness! Farewell to all that won my youthful heart, And waked fond longings after fame. We part. The weary pilgrim to his home returns; For Freedom’s air, for Western climes he burns; Where dwell the brave, the generous, and the free, O! there is Rome; no other Rome for me.” It was in order to train these young children of the Republic—“the brave, the generous, and the free”—that Bancroft entered upon the “Round Hill” enterprise. This celebrated school belonged to that class of undertakings which are so successful as to ruin their projectors. It began in a modest way; nothing could be more sensible than the “Prospectus,”—a pamphlet of twenty pages, issued at Cambridge, June 20, 1823. In this there is a clear delineation of the defects then existing in American schools; and a modest promise is given that, aided by the European experience of the two founders, something like a French _collège_ or a German _gymnasium_ might be created. There were to be not more than twenty pupils, who were to be from nine to twelve on entering. A fine estate was secured at Northampton, and pupils soon came in.