He, who, from zone to zone,

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
Will lead my steps aright.

LESSON LXXXII.

Hohenlinden. - CAMPBELL.

ON Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat, at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neighed,
To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills, with thunder riven,
Then rushed the steeds, to battle driven,
And, louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flashed the red artillery.

And redder yet those fires shall glow,
On Linden's hills of blood-stained snow,
And darker yet shall be the flow

Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

*Pron. Eser.

'Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
Shout in their sulphurous canopy.

*

The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!

And charge with all thy chivalry!†

Ah! few shall part where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding sheet,
And
every turf beneath their feet,
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

To him who, in the love of Nature, holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours,
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And gentle sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come, like a blight,

Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,

*Pron. cumbat.

tch as in church.

This is a Greek word, compounded of Thanatos, death, and opsis, a view, or contemplation. It signifies, therefore, "a view, or contemplation of death."

Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;
Go forth under the open sky, and list

To Nature's teachings, while from all around
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air,
Comes a still voice-Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more,

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go,

To mix forever with the elements,

To be a brother to the insensible rock,

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
Yet not to thy eternal resting-place

Shalt thou retire alone.

nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings,
The powerful of the earth the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, - the vales,

Stretching in pensive quietness between ;
The venerable woods - rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks,

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, -

Are but the solemn decorations all

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,

Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.-Take the wings
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings—yet, the dead are there,
And millions in those solitudes, since first

The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep - the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest; and what if thou shalt fall,
Unnoticed by the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gore, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glides away, the sons of men,

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
The bowed with age, the infant, in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age, cut off, -
Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side,
By those, who in their turn shall follow them.
So live, that when thy summons comes, to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

LESSON LXXXIV.

Charity to Orphans.— STERNE.

THEY Whom God hath blessed with the means, and for whom he has done more, in blessing them likewise with a disposition, have abundant reason to be thankful to him, as the Author of every good gift, for the measure he hath bestowed to them of both; it is the refuge against the stormy wind and tempest, which he has planted in our hearts; and the constant fluctuation of everything in this world, forces all the sons and daughters of Adam to seek shelter under it by turns. Guard it by entails and settlements as we will, the most affluent plenty may be stripped, and find all its worldly comforts, like so many withered leaves, dropping from us; the crowns of princes may be shaken; and the greatest, that ever awed the world, have looked back and moralized upon the turn of the wheel.

That which has happened to one, may happen to every man; and therefore that excellent rule of our Saviour, in acts of benevolence, as well as everything else, should govern us; "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye also

unto them."

Hast thou ever lain upon the bed of languishing, or labored under a distemper, which threatened thy life? Call to mind thy sorrowful and pensive spirit at that time, and say, What was it that made the thoughts of death so bitter?. - If thou hast children, I affirm it, the bitterness of death lay there! If unbrought up, and unprovided for, What will become of them? Where will they find a friend when I am - gone? Who will stand up for them, and plead their cause against the wicked?

Blessed God! to Thee, who art a father to the fatherless, and a husband to the widow, I intrust them.

Hast thou ever sustained any considerable shock in thy fortune? or has the scantiness of thy condition hurried thee into