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The faint old man shall lean his silver head

To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
And dry the moistened curls that overspread
His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;
And they who stand about the sick man's bed,
Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,

And softly part his curtains to allow
Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.

Go-but the circle of eternal change,

Which is the life of nature, shall restore,

With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,
Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more:
Sweet odors in the sea-air, sweet and strange,
Shall tell the home-sick mariner of the shore;
And, listening to thy murmur, he shall deem
He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.

Ex. XIX.-THE WORLD OF BEAUTY AROUND US.

HORACE MANN.

A HIGHER and holier world than the world of Ideas, or the world of Beauty, lies around us; and we find ourselves endued with susceptibilities which affiliate us to all its purity and its perfectness. The laws of nature are sublime, but there is a moral sublimity before which the highest intelligences must kneel and adore. The laws by which the winds blow, and the tides of the ocean, like a vast clepsydra, measure, with inimitable exactness, the hours of ever-flowing time; the laws by which the planets roll, and the sun vivifies and paints; the laws which preside over the subtle combinations of chemistry, and the amazing velocities of electricity; the laws of germination and production in the vegetable and animal worlds;-all these, radiant with eternal beauty as they are, and exalted above all the objects of sense, still wane and pale before the Moral Glories that apparel the universe in their celestial light. The heart can put on charms which no beauty of known things, nor imagination of the unknown, can aspire to emulate. Virtue shines in native colors, purer and brighter than pearl, or diamond, or prism, can reflect. Arabian gardens in their bloom can exhale no such sweetness as charity diffuses. Beneficence is godlike, and he who does

most good to his fellow-man is the Master of Masters, and has learned the Art of Arts. Enrich and embellish the universe as you will, it is only a fit temple for the heart that loves truth with a supreme love. Inanimate vastness excites wonder; knowledge kindles admiration; but love enraptures the soul. Scientific truth is marvelous, but moral truth is divine; and whoever breathes its air, and walks by its light, has found the lost paradise. For him a new heaven and a new earth have already been created. His home is the sanctuary of God, the Holy of Holies.

Ex. XX.-THE VULTURE.

ANON.

I'VE been among the mighty Alps, and wandered through their vales,

And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal tales, As round the cotter's blazing hearth, when their daily work was o'er,

They spake of those who disappeared, and ne'er were heard of more.

And there, I, from a shepherd, heard a narrative of fear,
A tale to rend a mortal heart, which mothers might not hear:
The tears were standing in his eyes, his voice was tremulous,
But wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus:

"It is among those barren cliffs the ravenous vulture dwells,
Who never fattens on the prey which from afar he smells,
But, patient, watching hour on hour, upon a lofty rock,
He singles out some truant lamb, a victim from the flock.
"One cloudless Sabbath summer morn, the sun was rising

high,

cry,

When, from my children on the green, I heard a fearful
As if some awful deed were done, a shriek of grief and pain,
A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again.

"I hurried out to learn the cause, but, overwhelmed with fright,

The children never ceased to shriek, and, from my frenzied sight,

I missed the youngest of my babes, the darling of my care, But something caught my searching eyes, slow sailing through the air.

"Oh! what an awful spectacle to meet a father's eye,-
His infant made a vulture's prey, with terror to descry;
And know, with agonizing heart, and with a maniac rave,
That earthly power could not avail, that innocent to save!

"My infant stretched his little hands imploringly to me,
And struggled with the ravenous bird, all vainly to get free!
At intervals I heard his cries, as loud he shrieked and
screamed!

Until, upon the azure sky, a lessening spot he seemed.

"The vulture flapped his sail-like wings, though heavily he flew,

A mote upon the sun's bright face, he seemed unto my view; But once I thought I saw him stoop, as if he would alight,— 'Twas only a delusive thought, for all had vanished quite.

"All search was vain, and years had passed,—that child was ne'er forgot,

When once a daring hunter climbed unto a lofty spot,
From thence upon a rugged crag the chamois never reached,
He saw an infant's fleshless bones-the elements had bleached!

"I clambered up that rugged cliff,-I could not stay away,I knew they were my infant's bones, thus hastening to decay; A tattered garment yet remained, though torn to many a shred;

The crimson cap he wore that morn, was still upon his head.”

That dreary spot is pointed out to travelers passing by, Who often stand, and musing, gaze, nor go without a sigh; And as I journeyed the next morn along my sunny way, The precipice was shown to me whereon the infant lay.

Ex. XXI.-THE PIONEER.

BRAINARD.

FAR away from the hill-side, the lake and the hamlet,
The rock and the brook, and yon meadow so gay;
From the footpath, that winds by the side of the streamlet,
From his hut and the grave of his friend far away;

He is
gone where the footsteps of man never ventured,
Where the glooms of the wild tangled forests are centered,
Where no beam of the sun or the sweet moon has entered,

No bloodhound has roused up the deer with his bay.

He has left the green valley, for paths where the bison
Roams through the prairies, or leaps o'er the flood;
Where the snake in the swamp sucks the deadliest poison,
And the cat of the mountains keeps watch for its food.
But the leaf shall be greener, the sky shall be purer,
The eye shall be clearer, the rifle be surer,

And stronger the arm of the fearless endurer,

That trusts naught but Heaven, in his way through the wood.

Light be the heart of the poor lonely wanderer,
Firm be his step through each wearisome mile,
Far from the cruel man, far from the plunderer,
Far from the track of the mean and the vile!
And when death, with the last of its terrors, assails him,
And all but the last throb of memory fails him,
He'll think of the friend, far away, that bewails him,
And light up the cold touch of death with a smile.

And there shall the dew shed its sweetness and luster,
There for his pall shall the oak leaves be spread;
The sweetbrier shall bloom, and the wild grape shall cluster,
And o'er him the leaves of the ivy be shed.
There shall they mix with the fern and the heather,
There shall the young eagle shed its first feather,
The wolf with his wild cubs shall lie there together,
And moan o'er the spot where the hunter is laid

Ex. XXII.-THE BACHELORS' SALE.

ANON

1 DREAMED a dream in the midst of my slumbers,
And as fast as I dreamed it was conned into numbers;
My thoughts ran along in such beautiful meter,

I am sure I never saw any poetry sweeter.

It seemed that a law had been recently made,
That a tax on old bachelors' pates should be laid:

And in order to make them all willing to marry,
The tax was as large as a man could well carry.
But the bachelors grumbled, and said 't was no use,
'T was cruel injustice and horrid abuse.

And declared, that to save their hearts' blood from spilling,
Of such a vile tax they would ne'er pay a shilling.

But the rulers determined their scheme to pursue,

So they set all the bachelors up at vendue;
A crier was sent through the town to and fro,
To rattle his bell, and his trumpet to blow.
And to call out to all he might meet on his way,
"Ho! forty old bachelors sold here to-day."
Presently, all the old maids of the town,
Each in her very best bonnet and gown,
From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red, and pale,
Of every description all flocked to the sale.
The auctioneer then his labors began,

And called out aloud as he held up a man,
"How much for a bachelor? who wants to buy ?"
In a trice every maiden responded "I! I!"
In short, at a highly extravagant price,

The bachelors were all sold off in a trice,

And forty old maids, some younger, some older,

Each carried an old bachelor home on her shoulder.

Ex. XXIII.-HIS CAPTORS TO ANDRE.

Look on us, Briton! readest thou

Aught base or craven here?

On these swart lips and toil-worn brows,
Is stamped the sign of fear?

J. W. MILLER.

Look, man of courts, for know'st thou not
Rude arms and peasant-vest
Are lightnings in a patriot's grasp,
Proof-mail upon his breast?

Go to! we would not wrong the truth
That fills thy noble eye:

That broad, pale forehead's lift of pride
Should take no shameful dye.

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