mind, person, or position. Yet had he, to the last, a beauty that love followed,-the beauty of kind regard to all creatures, and of a perfect temperament that never yielded to anger. IIence the wheels of life ran on without chafing, and, in his eighty-eighth year, his step was as elastic as at twenty, the florid hue of his cheek unchanged, and his bright, brown hair, without a thread of silver. 14. He loved the plants and flowers, and knew how scienafically to promote their welfare, and to enrich the dark, brown mold, with golden fruits, and fair vine-clusters. By these sweet recreations, life was made sweeter, and renewed its pleasures like the fresh spring-buds, and the bird that returns again to its nest after the winter. Sorrows he had tasted, but they left no cloud, only a deeper tenderness for all who mourned. 15. His religion had no mixture of coldness toward those who differed from him, no exclusive ess, no bigotry. The frailties of those around, he regarded with gentleness or with pity. He blamed not, upbraided not. On his loving soul there was no slander-spot. His life was like one long smile, closing with a music-strain. And on it was written as a fair motto," the man without an enemy.' 16. From the sacred pictures of the departed, that hang in the soul's temple, I would fain select another. It is of a friend, who, in early years, suffered from feebleness of constitution, yet, by care and temperance, so renovated his health, that age was to him better and more vigorous than youth. A strong perception of the beautiful, both in nature and art, lighted up his mind with a perpetual sunbeam. 17. His fine taste went hand in hand with a perfect philanthropy, so that what he admired he patronized, and what he patronized he spread abroad, that others might share his en joyment. The gates of his spacious ruraï villa were thrown open as a pleasure-ground for all the people, and with the treasures of literature and the arts, he enriched the noble public institute that he founded. "The holy truth walked ever by his side;" while independence of thought and action with regard to men, was mingled with the deepest humility and reverence toward God. 18. To draw merit from obscurity, to sustain honest industry, to encourage humble virtue, to stimulate the young to higher effort, and silently to relieve the suffering poor, were his pleasures. And with these pleasures would sometimes steal over his brow an expression denied to what the world calls beauty, "the set of features and complexion, the tincture of the skin that she admires." It was the beauty of the soul, looking forth in the life of one, who faithfully and without ostentation, held his large fortune in stewardship for God and for man. EXERCISE CLXVII. GENIUS WAKING. J. G. PEROTY AL. 1. Slumber's heavy chain hath bound thee,-- (>) Feebler wings are gathering round thee, Shall they hover higher? Can no power, no spell recall thee From inglorious dréams? 2. Thine was once the highest pinion With a proud and sure dominion, Like the herald, winged with lightning, From the Olympian throne, Thou wert there alone. 3. Where the pillared props of heaven Where no darkling clouds are driven, Far above the rolling thunder, When the surging storm 4. O, what rare and heavenly brightness Flowed around thy plumes, As a cascade's foamy whiteness, Wheeling through the shadowy ocean, Like a shape of light, With serene and placid motion, From that cloudless region stooping, Not with pinion faint and drooping, (") Up again, undaunted soaring, When the warring winds were roaring 6. Where is now that restless longing After higher things? Come they not, like visions, thronging On their airy wings? Why should not their glow enchant thee Surely danger can not daunt thee From a heaven like this. 7. (sl.) But thou slumberest; faint and quivering Hangs thy ruffled wing; Like a dove in winter shivering, Or a feebler thing. () Where is now thy might and motion, Thy imperial flight? 8 Where is now thy heart's devotion? Where thy spirit's light? Hark! his rustling plumage gathers Closer to his side, Close, as when the storm-bird weathers Ocean's hurrying tide. Now his nodding beak is steady,- And his aim-how high! 9. Now he curves his neck, and proudly Hark! his wings-they thunder loudly 10. Glorious bird! thy dream has left thee,Thou hast reached thy heaven,— Lingering slumber hath not reft thee Of the glory given. With a bold, a fearless pinion, On thy starry road, None, to fame's supreme dominion, F EXERCISE CLXVIII. BATTLE OF WATERLOO.* 1 There was a sound of revelry by night, Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, BYRON [knell ! (.) But hush! hark!-a deep sound strikes like a rising 2. Did ye not hear it ?—No; 'twas but the wind, (°) On with the dance; let joy be unconfined; (0) But, 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 ! 3. 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; * On the night previous to the battle, a splendid ball was given at Brussels. The Duke of Wellington, having heard of Napoleon's decisive operations, had intended to have the ball put off; but, it seeming important that the people of Brussels should be kept in ignorance of what was in progress, the Duke not only desired that the ball should be held, but that the general officers should be present. They were, however, instructed to quit the place as quietly as possi ble, at 10 o'clock, and join immediately each his own respective d vision |