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And the soul answered with a ghastly frown,
"In what life loved, death finds its weal or woe;
Here to the clay's Desires they drag me down,
To the clay's rot below!"

It spoke, and where Rome's purple ones reposed,
They lowered the corpse; and downwards from the sun
Both soul and body sank-and darkness closed
Over that two-fold One!

Without the church, unburied on the ground,
There lay in rags, a beggar newly dead;
Above his dust no holy priest was found,
No pious prayer was said!

But round the corpse unnumbered lovely things,
Hovering, unseen by the proud passers by,
Formed upward, upward, upward, with bright wings,
A ladder to the sky!

And what are ye? O beautiful!"

"We are,"

Answered the choral cherubim, "His deeds!"
Then his soul, sparkling sudden as a star,
Flashed from its mortal weeds,

And lightly passing, tier on tier, along
The gradual pinions, vanished like a smile!-
Just then, swept by the solemn visaged throng
From the Apostle's pile.

Then did I muse :- -Such are men's judgments; blind
In scorn or love! In what unguessed of things,
Desires or Deeds-do rags and purple find

The fetters or the wings!

LESSON CXXXVI.

TIME AND ETERNITY.

Edward Young, an English poet, is chiefly known as the author of a poem called Night Thoughts, from which the following lines are extracted. The poem in Blank Verse, which is distinguished from prose by having every line carefully measured, and from other poetry by the absence of rhyme. Every line is composed of five feet, called Iambuses, each iambus consisting of a short before a long syllable, thus:

The bell strikes one. | Wě tāke | nõ nõte | ŏf tîme |

The pupil will perceive that a long syllable is not necessarily one with a long vowel in it, but one on which the voice dwells a longer time, or on which the accent falls.

The bell strikes one. We take no note of time
But from its loss; to give it then a tongue
Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke,
I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright,
It is the knell of my departed hours.

Where are they? With the years beyond the flood.
It is the signal that demands despatch :

How much is to be done! My hopes and fears
Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge
Look down-on what? A fathomless abyss ;
A dread eternity! how surely mine!
And can eternity belong to me,

Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?

How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man! How passing wonder He who made him such! Who centered in our make such strange extremes, From different natures marvellously mixed? Connection exquisite of distant worlds! Distinguished link in being's endless chain! Midway from nothing to the Deity! A beam ethereal, sullied and absorpt; Though sullied and dishonored, still divine! Dim miniature of greatness absolute! An heir of glory! a frail child of dust!

Helpless immortal! insect infinite!

A worm! a god!-I tremble at myself,

And in myself am lost. At home, a stranger,-
Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast,
And wondering at her own. How reason reels!

O what a miracle to man is man!

Triumphantly distressed! what joy! what dread!
Alternately transported and alarmed!

What can preserve my life, or what destroy?
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave;
Legions of angels can't confine me there.

LESSON CXXXVII.

THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

The following glowing description of the thoughtless revelry which preceded the carnage of that Battle of Battles, is from the master hand of Byron. No words, no facts can more strikingly exhibit the inconsistency and folly as well as the horrors of war. The speaker, by his manner, must endeavor to exhibit the quiet entertainment, the alarm, the hurry of preparation, the uproar of battle, and the mournful conclusion.

There was a sound of revelry by night,

And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men;
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage-bell;

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Did ye not hear it ?—No, 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street;

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;

No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet

To chase the glowing hours with flying feetBut hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is-it is-the cannon's opening roar

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness. And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If evermore should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!

And there was mounting in hot haste the steed; The mustering squadron, and the clattering car Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar : And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips-"The foe! they come! they come !"

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay,
The midnight brought the signal sound of strife,
The morn the marshalling in arms-the day
Battle's magnificently stern array!

The thunder clouds close o'er it, which, when rent,
The earth is covered thick with other clay,

Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse-friend, foe-in one red burial blent!

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Appius Claudius, a Decemvir, (one of Ten Men who ruled over Rome) having attempted to get possession of Virginia, the only daughter of Virginius, a Roman Centurion, (or captain over a hundred men) the father, seeing no other way to baffle the lust of the tyrant, seized a butcher's knife and stabbed her in the Forum, or open square where Roman courts were held. The soldiers immediately flew to arms, and delivered Rome from the tyranny of the Decemviri. The pupil must consult the Classical Dictionary to understand the allusions to Servius Tullius, Lucretia, Tarquin, Scævola, &c. Patricians were nobles, Plebeians were not. The Fasces were a bundle of wooden rods surrounding the long handle of an axe, carried by officers, called Lictors, before magistrates. Tribunes were officers chosen by the Plebeians to protect them against the Patricians, but the Decemviri had abolished the office. It was restored, however, after the death of Virginia, and her father was elected one of them. The allusions to Roman customs are too numerous to be noticed here, but the whole piece is a good exercise on Roman antiquities, and the pupil should be made acquainted with every word of it. The writer is MACAULAY, celebrated for his Lays of Ancient Rome.

66

Now, by your children's cradles, now, by your father's graves,

Be men to-day, O Romans, or be forever slaves!

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