“The King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest; And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing Down all our line a deafening shout, ‘God save our Lord the King!’ And if my standard bearer fall, as fall full well he may, For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray; Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre!” On the year after this “Battle of Ivry” had sparkled into print appeared the paper on Milton, to which I have alluded, and which straightway set London doors open to the freshly fledged student-at-law. Crabb Robinson, in his diary of those days, speaks patronizingly of a “young gentleman of six or seven and twenty, who has emerged upon the dinner-giving public,” and is astounding old habitués by his fulness and brilliancy of talk. He had not, to be sure, those lighter and sportive graces of conversation which floated shortly thereafter out from the open windows of Gore House, and had burgeoned under the beaming smiles of Lady Blessington. But he came to be a table match for Sydney Smith, and was honored by the invitations of Lady Holland,[85] who allowed no new find of so brilliant feather to escape her. _In Politics and Verse._ Macaulay’s alliance with the Scottish Reviewers, and his known liberalism, make him a pet of the great Whigs; and through Lansdowne, with a helping hand from Melbourne, he found his way into Parliament: there were those who prophesied his failure in that field; I think Brougham in those days, with not a little of jealousy in his make up, was disposed to count him a mere essayist. But his speeches in favor of the Reform bill belied all such auguries. Sir Robert Peel declared them to be wonderful in their grasp and eloquence; they certainly had great weight in furthering reform; and his parliamentary work won presently for him the offer from Government of a place in India. No Oriental glamour allured him, but the new position was worth £10,000 per annum. He counted upon saving the half of this, and returning after five years with a moderate fortune. He did better, however--shortening his period of exile by nearly a twelve-month, and bringing back £30,000.