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Prisoner of earth, and pent beneath the moon,
Here pinions all his wishes; winged by Heaven
To fly at infinite; and reach it there,
Where seraphs gather immortality.

On Life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God,
What golden joys ambrosial clustering glow
In His full beam, and ripen for the just,
Where momentary ages are no more!

Where time, and pain, and chance, and death expire!
And is it in the flight of threescore years
To push eternity from human thought,
And smother souls immortal in the dust?
A soul immortal, spending all her fires,
Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness,
Thrown into tumult, raptured or alarmed,
At aught this scene can threaten or indulge,
Resembles ocean into tempest wrought,
To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.

QUESTIONS.-1. With what tone of voice should the first stanza be read! See Remark, page 24.

EXERCISE CII.

ANGELO AND CLAUDIA.

MISS MITFORD.

An apartment in Rienzi's house; a Roman chair, with a skain of red worsted; a lattice down to the floor, opening into the garden.-Enter ANGELO and CLAUDIA through the lattice. Cla. Beseech thee, now, away, Lord Angelo,

Thou hast been here o'erlong.

Ang.

Scarce whilst the sand

Ran through the tell-tale glass; scarce whilst the sun
Lengthened the shadow of the cedar.

Cla.

The sun is setting-see!

See!

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We sat beneath the myrtle shade, how long

Paced the cool trellis walk. When next thou steal'st

Hither, from thy proud palace, I must time thee

By seconds, as the nice physician counts
The boundings of the fevered pulse. Away,
Dear Angelo; think, if my father find thee-

Ang. Oh, talk not of him, sweet! why was I born
The heir of the Colonna? why art thou
Rienzi's daughter? What a world of foes,
Stern scorn, and fiery pride, and cold contempt
Are ranged betwixt us twain; yet love, and time,
Be faithful, mine own Claudia-time, and love!
Cla. Alas! alas!

Ang.

Thy father loves thee, sweetest,

With a proud dotage, almost worshiping

The idol it hath framed. Thou fear'st not him?

Cla. Alas! I have learned to fear him; he is changed,
Grievously changed; still good and kind, and full
Of fond relentings-crossed by sudden gusts
Of wild and stormy passion. I have learned
A daughter's trembling love. Then he's so silent-
He, once so eloquent. Of old, each show,
Bridal, or joust, or pious pilgrimage,

Lived in his vivid speech. Oh! 't was my joy,
In that bright glow of rapid words, to see
Clear pictures, as the slow procession coiled
Its glittering length, or stately tournament
Grew statelier in his voice. Now he sits mute-
His serious eyes bent on the ground-each sense
Turned inward.

Ang.

Somewhat chafes his ardent spirit.

Cla. And should I grieve him, too? Lord Angelo, The love deserves no blessing, that deceives

A father.

Ang. Mine own Claudia !

Cla.

We must part.

Ang: O, never talk of parting! 'T was Rienzi That brought me hither first. Rememberest thou A boy, scarce more than boy-thy lovely self Scarce woman.

At

once, within

Then was thy rare beauty stamped,
my heart, then, and forever;—
Thou canst not bid me leave thee, love and time,—
And constancy-oh, be as faithful, Claudia,

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[Exit Angelo.

Here, through the lattice-by the garden gate.

Now Heaven forgive me, if it be a sin

To love thee, Angelo. (Looking after him.) My foolish heart Beats an' it were. He's gone-he's hidden now

Behind the myrtle hedge: thank Heaven! thank Heaven! He's opening now the gate-I hear the key

But my sense is fear-quickened; now 't is closed,

And all is safe. (Sinks down into the chair.) Oh, simple heart, be still!

Be still!

FROM

EXERCISE CIII.

NIMROUD IN SPRING.

'NINEVEH AND ITS REMAINS," BY A. H. LAYARD.

1. The middle of March in Mesopotamia is the brightest epoch of spring. A new change had come over the face of

the plain of Nimroud; as far as the eye could reach, it was studded with the white pavilions of the Hytas and the black tents of the Arabs. Picketed around them were innumerable horses in gay trappings, struggling to release themselves from the bonds which restrained them from ranging over the green pastures.

2. Flowers of every hue enameled the meadows; not thinly scattered over the grass, as in northern climes, but in such thick and gathering clusters, that the whole plain seemed a patchwork of many colors. The dogs, as they returned from hunting, issued from the long grass dyed red, yellow, or blue, according to the flowers through which they had last forced their way.

3. When I returned in the evening, after the labor of the day, I often sat at the door of my tent, and, giving myself up to the full enjoyment of that calm and repose which are imparted to the senses by such scenes as these, I gazed listlessly on the varied groups before me. As the sun went down behind the low hills which separate the river from the deserteven their rocky sides had struggled to emulate the verdant clothing of the plain-its receding rays were gradually withdrawn, like a transparent vail of light, from the landscape.

4. Over the pure, cloudless sky was the glow of the last light. The great mound threw its dark shadow far across the plain. In the distance, and beyond the Zab, another venerable ruin rose indistinctly into the evening mist. Still more distant, and still more indistinct, was a solitary hill overlooking the ancient city of Arbela.* The Kurdish mountains, whose snowy summits cherished the dying sunbeams, yet struggled with the twilight.

5. It was one of those calm and pleasant evenings which, in spring, make a paradise of the desert. The breeze, bland and perfumed by the odor of the flowers, came calmly over

A small place in Eastern Assyria, renowned for a decisive battle fought in its neighborhood, by Alexander the Great, against Darius, the king of Persia.

the plain. Countless camels and sheep wandered to the tents, and the melancholy call of the herdsmen rose above the bleating of the flocks. Girls hurried over the green sward to seek their fathers' cattle, or crouched down to milk those which had returned alone to their well-remembered folds.

6. Some were coming from the river, bearing the replenished pitcher on their heads or shoulders; others, no less graceful in their form, and erect in their carriage, were carrying the heavy load of long grass, which they had cut in the meadows. Sometimes a party of horsemen might have been seen in the distance crossing the plain, the tufts of ostrich feathers which topped their long spears, showing darkly against the evening sky. They would ride up to my tent, and give me the usual salutations: "Peace be with you, 0 Bey," or Allah Aienak,-God help you!"

66

EXERCISE CIV.

LA FAYETTE.

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

1. While we bring our offerings to the mighty of our own land, shall we not remember the chivalrous spirits of other shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and wóe? Pile to the clouds the majestic column of glory; let the lips of those who can speak well hallow each spot, where the bones of your bold repose; but forget not those who with your bold, went out to battle.

2. Among these men of noble daring, there was ONE, a young and gallant stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills of his delightful France. The people whom he came to succor were not his people; he knew them only in the melancholy story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary adventurer, striving for the spoil of the vanquished; the palace acknowledged him for its lord, and the valley yielded him its

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