And perish as the quickening breath of God
Fills them or is withdrawn. The red man, too,
Has left the blooming wilds he ranged so long,
And nearer to the Rocky Mountains sought
A wider hunting-ground.

8. The beaver builds
No longer by these streams, but far away,
On waters whose blue surface ne'er gave back
The white man's face, — among Missouri's springs,
And pools whose issues swell the Oregon, -
He rears his little Venice.*

9. In these plains The bison feeds no more. Twice twenty leagues Beyond remotest smoke of hunter's camp, Roams the majestic brute, in herds that shake The earth with thundering steps — yet here I meet His ancient footprints stamped beside the pool.

LESSON CXVII.

The Common Lot. MONTGOMERY.

1. ONCE, in the flight of ages past,
There lived a man: and who was he?
Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,
That man resembled thee.

2. Unknown the region of his birth,
The land in which he died unknown :
His name has perished from the earth ;
This truth survives alone.:
That joy, and grief, and hope, and fear,
Alternate triumphed in his breast;
His bliss and woe. a smile, a tear !
Oblivion hides the rest.

3. The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirits' rise and fall ;
We know that these were felt by him,
For these are felt by all.
He suffered but his pangs are o'er ;
Enjoyed – but his delights are fled ;
Had friends his friends are now no more ;
And foes his foes are dead.

4. He loved — but whom he loved the grave Hath lost in its unconscious womb: O, she was fair! but nought could save Her beauty from the tomb. He saw whatever thou hast seen; Encountered all that troubles thee :

whatever thou hast been; He is what thou shalt be.

5. The rolling seasons, day and night,
Sun, moon and stars, the earth and main,
Erewhile his portion, life and light,
To him exist in vain.
The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye
That once their shades and glory threw,
Have left in yonder silent sky
No vestige where they flew.
The annals of the human race,
Their ruins, since the world began,
Of him afford no other trace
Than this - there lived a man!

He was

LESSON CXVIII.

The Fretful Man. CowPER.
1. SOME fretful tempers wince at every touch, -
You always do too little or too much :
You speak with life, in hopes to entertain, —
Your elevated voice goes through the brain;
You fall at once into a lower key,
That's worse, the drone-pipe of an humble-bee.

2. The southern sash admits too strong a light;
You rise and drop the curtain, -- now 't is night.
He shakes with cold; you stir the fire, and strive
To make a blaze, - that's roasting him alive.
Serve him with venison, and he chooses fish ;
With sole,* — that's just the sort he would not wish.

3. He takes what he at first professed to loathe,
And in due time feeds heartily on both ;
Yet still o'erclouded with a constant frown,
He does not swallow, but he gulps it down.
Your hope to please him vain on every plan,
Himself should work that wonder, if he can.

4. Alas! his efforts double his distress.
He likes yours little, and his own still less ;
Thus always teasing others, always teased,
His only pleasure is to be displeased.

LESSON CXIX. A Winter Evening. - CowPER. 1. 'Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat To peep at such a world ; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ; To hear the roar she sends through all her gates At a safe distance, where the dying sound Falls a soft murmur on the uninjured ear.

2. Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease The globe and its concerns,

I seem advanced To some secure and more than mortal height, That liberates and exempts me from them all.

2. O Winter! ruler of the inverted year, Thy scattered bair with sleet, like ashes filled, Thy breath congealed upon thy lips, thy cheeks Fringed with a beard made white with other snows Than those of age, thy forehead wrapped in clouds, A leafless branch thy scepter, and thy throne A sliding car, indebted to no wheels, But urged by storms along its slippery way, I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, And dreaded as thou art !

The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds
The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out;
And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct,
And in the charming strife triumphant still,
Beguile the night, and set a keener edge
On female industry : the threaded steel
Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds.

7. The volume closed, the customary rites
Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal;
Such as the mistress of the world once found
Delicious, when her patriots of high note,
Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doors,
And under an old oak's domestic shade,
Enjoyed, spare feast! a radish and an egg.

8. Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull,
Nor such as with a frown forbids the play
Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth :
Nor do we madly, like an impious world,
Who deem religion frenzy, and the God
That made them an intruder on their joys,
Start at his awful name, or deem his praise
A jarring note.

9. Themes of a graver tone,
Exciting oft our gratitude and love,
While we retrace with memory's pointing wand,
That calls the past to our exact review,
The dangers we have 'scaped, the broken snare,
The disappointed foe, deliverance found
Unlooked for, life preserved and peace restored,
Fruits of omnipotent eternal love.