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659. SPEECH OF BELIAL, DISSU ADING WAR. Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved, I should be much for open war, oh peers,

Ages-of hopeless end?-this would be worse. As not behind in hate, if what were urged, War, therefore, open and concealed, alike Main reason to persuade immediate war, My voice dissuades.-Milton. Did not dissuade me more, and seem to cast POMPEU. How serenely slept the star-light Ominous conjecture on the whole success;

on that lovely city! how breathlessly its pil When he, who most exoels in tact of arms,

lared streets reposed in their security! how

softly rippled the dark, green waves beyond! In what he counsels, and in what excels,

how cloudless spread aloft and blue the dream. Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair,

ing Cumpanian skies! Yet this was the last And utter dissolution as the scope

night for the gay Pompeii! the colony of the Of all his aum, after some dire revenge. (fiuca hoar Chaldean! the fabled city of Hercules! Firsu what revenge?-The lowers of heaven are the delight of the voluptuous Roman! Age With armed watch, that render all access

after age had rolled indestructive, unhacded, Impregnable: oft, on the bordering deep,

over its head; and now the last ray quiverd Encamp their legions: or with obscure wing,

on the dial plate ot' its doom! Scout far and wide, into the realms of night,

660. THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, (door; By force, and at our heels, all hell should rise,

Whose trembling limbs I have borne him to your With blackest insurrection, to confound

Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span; Heaven's purest light; yet our great enemy,

Oh! give relief, and Heav'n will bless your storc. All incorruptible, would, on his throne,

These latter'd clothes | my poverty bespeak, Sit, unpolluted; and the etherial mold,

These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years; Incapable of stain, would soon expel

And many a furrow | in my grief-wom cheek, Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire,

Has been the channel | to a flood of tears. Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope- Yon house, erected on the rising ground, Is flat despair; we must exasperate

With tempting aspect | drew me from my road, The almighty victor—to spend all his rage, For plenty there | a residence has foun-1, And that must end us; that must be our cure,- And grandeur | a magnificent abode. To be no more.-Sad cure!—for who would lose, Hard is the fate of the infirm, and poor! Though full of pain, this intellectual being,

Here, as I crav'd | a morsel of their bread, Those thoughts, that wander through eternity,–

A pamper'd menial | drove me from the door, To perish rather, swallowed up, and lost,

To seek a shelter | in an humbler shed.
In the wide tomb of uncreated night,
Devoid of sense, and motion ?--And who knows

OF. take me to your hospitable dome; (Let this be good) whether our angry foe

Keen blows the wind, ) and piercing is the cold ! Can give it, or will ever? How he can,

Short is my passage to the friendly womb; Is doubtful; that he never will, is sure.

For I am poor, and miserably old. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire,

Should I reveal the sources of my grief, Belike through impotence, or unawares,

If soft humanity | e'er touch'd your breast, To give his enemies their wish, and end

Your hands would not withhold the kind rele, Them in his anger, whom his anger saves

And tears of pity I would not be represt. To punish endless ?—“Wherefore cease ye then? Heav'n sends misfortunes; why should we repine ? Say they, who counsel war; "we are decreed, 'Tis Heav'n has bro't me to the state you see; Reserved, and desuned—to eternal wo:

And your condition | may be soon like mine, Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, The child of sorrow | and of misery. What can we suffer worse? Is this then worst, A liule farm | was my paternal lot; Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms?

Then, like the lark, I sprightly

il'd the morn; What, when we fled amain, pursued and struck But ah! oppression forc'd me from my cot, With heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought My cattle died, and blighted was my corn. The deep to shelter us? this hell, then, seemed

My daughter, once the comfort of my age, A refuge from those wounds! or, who we lay,

Lur'd by a villain / from her native home, Chained on the burning lake? that sure was worse. Is cast, abandon'd, on the world's wide stage, What if the breath, that kindled those grim fires,

And doom'd | in scanty poverty to roam.
Awaked, should blow them into seven-fold rage,
And plunge us in the flames ! or, from above,

My tender wife, sweet soother of my care!
Should intermitted vengeance-arm again

Struck with sad anguish / at the stern decree, His red right hand to plague us ? what if all:

Fell, ling'ring fell, a victim to despair; Her stores were opened, and this firmament

And left the world | 10 wretchedness and me. Of hell-should spout her cataracts of fire,

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, (door; Impending horrors, threatening hideous fall,

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your One day upon our heads; while we, perhaps

Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span; Designing, or exhorting glorious war,

Oh! give relief, and Heav'n will bless your store Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled,

Canst thou administer—to a mind discased ? Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey

Pluck- from the memory—a rooted sorrow, Of racking whirlwinde; or, for ever sunk

Raze out the written troubles of the brain :

And with some sweet-oblivious antidoto Under yon boiling ocean, wrapped in chains;

Cleanse-the stuffed bosom-of that perilon tok Ttere to cur.verse with everlasting groans,

Which weighs upon the heart?


Betrays--like treason. Let ue shun 'cm both Cato. Fathers, we once again are met in coun- Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs (round us Cesar's approach has summond us together, [cil. Are grown thus desperate : we have bulwark: And Rome attends her fate from our resolves.

Within our walls, are troops--inured to toil, How shali we treat this bold aspiring man ?

In Afric's heats, and seasoned to the sun; Success still follows him, and backs his crimes.

Numidia's spacious kingdom Jies behind us, Pharsalia-gave him Rome : Egypl-has since Ready to rise, at its young prince's call. Received his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cesar's.

While there is hope, do not distrust the gods ; Why should I mention Juba's overthrow,

But wait, at least, till Cesar's near approach And Scipio's death? Numidia’s burning sands. Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late Still smoke with blood. "Tis time we should to sue for chains, and own a conqueror. decree

Why should Rome fall a moment, ere her timci What course to take. Our foe advances on us,

No, let us draw her term of freedom out, And envies us, even Libya's sultry deserts. In its full length, and spin it to the last. Fathers, pronounce your thoughts : are they still So, shall we gain still one day's liberty; To hold it out, and fight it to the last ? (fixed And let me perish; but, in Cato's judgment, Or, are your hearts subdued at length, and wro't, A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty, By time and ill success, to a submission ?

Is worth a whole eternity--in bondage.-Addison. Sempronius, speak.

662. GOD IN NATURE.—There is religion Sempronius. My voice is still for war. Gods! can a Roman senate long debate,

in every thing around us a calm and holy Which of the two to choose, slavery, or death ?

religion, in the unbreathing things of nature, No; let us rise at once, gird on our swords,

which man would do well to imitate. It is a And, at the head of our remaining troops,

meek and blessed influence, stealing in as it Attack the foe, break through the thick array

were, unawares upon the heart. It comes Oi luis thronged legions, and charge home upon quietly, and without excitement. It has no Perhaps some arm. more lucky than the rest, [him. terror, no gloom in its approaches. It does May reach his heart, and free the world—from not rouse up the passions; it is untrammeled bondage.

by the creeds, and unshadowed by the superRise, fathers, rise! 'tis Rome demands your help; stitions of man. It is fresh from the hands of Rise, and revenge her slaughtered citizens, its author, glowing from the immediate pres Or share their fate! The corpse of half her senate ence of the Great Spirit, which pervades and Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we

quickens it. Sit bere, deliberating in cold debates,

It is written on the arched sky. It looks If we should sacrifice our lives to honor, Or wear them out in servitude, and chains.

out from every star. It is on the sailing Rouse 11g, for shame! our brothers of Pharsalia cloud, and in the invisible wind. It is among Point at their wounds, and cry aloud-To battle! the hills and valleys of the earth-where the Great Pompey's shade-complains that we are shrubless mountain-top-pierces the thin at. slow,

(ug: mosphere of eternal winter-or where the And Scipio's ghost-walks unrevenged, amongst mighty forest fluctuates, before the strong

Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal- wind, with its dark waves of green foliage. It Transport thee thus, beyond the bounds of rea- is spread out like a legible language, upon True fortitude is seen, in great exploits, (son: the broad face of the unsleeping ocean. It is That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides : the poetry of nature. It is this which uplifts All else is towering frenzy and distraction. the spirit within us, until it is strong enough Are not the lives of those, who draw the sword, to overlook the shadows of our place of pro In Rome's defence, intrusted to our care ! Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter, chain that binds us to materiality; and

bation; which breaks, link after link, the Might not the impartial world, with reason, say, which opens to our imagination a world of Welavished at our deaths, the blood of thousands, spiritual beauty and holiness. To grace our fall and make our ruin glorious ; Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion,

PLAY-PLACE OF BARLY DAYS. Lucius. My thoughts, I inust confess, are Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,

turned on peace. Already, have our quarrels filled the world

We love the play-place of our early days ; With widows and with orphans: Scythia mourns

The scene is touching, and the heart is stone, Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions- That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. Lie hall-unpeopled, by the feuds of Rome: (kind. The wall on which we tried our graving skill, 'Tis time to sheathe the sword, and spare man- The very name we carv'd subsisting still; It is not Cesar, but the gods, iny fathers, The gods declare against us, and repel

The bench on which we sat while deep employ'd, Our vain allempts. To urge the foe to battle, Though mångled, hacked, and hewed, not yet (Prompted by blind revenge, and wild despair,) destroyed ; Were to refuse the awards of Providence, And not to rest in Heaven's determination.

The little ones, unbutton'd, glowing hot, Already have we shown our love to Rome;

Playing our games, and on the very spot; Now, let us ghow submission to the gods. As happy as we once, to kneel and drar We took lip arms, not to revenge ourselves, The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw; But free the commonwealth ; when this end fails, To pitch the ball into the grounded hat, Arms have l'o further use : our country's cause, or drive it devious with a dextrous pat ; That drew oʻur swords, now wrests'en from our and bids us Hot delight in Roman blond, (hands, The pleasing spectacle at once excites Unprofitably shed: what men could do

Such recollection of our own delights, Is done already : heaven and earth-- will witness, That, viewing it, we seem almost t'oblain Il--Rome--must-fall, that we are innocent.

Semp. This smooth discourse, and mild behav. Our innocent, sweet, simple years again.Coroper Cor.ceala iraitor--something whispers me [ior of Come sleep, 0 sleep, the certain knot of peace Al is not right-Cato beware of Lucius. Cato. Let us appear-nor rash, nor diffident:

The baiting-place of wit, the halm of wo; Immoderate valor-swells into a fault ;

The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, And fear, admitted into publi: councils,

Th'indifferent judge between the high and on

663. PATRICK HENRY'S SPEECH, 1775. insult; our supplications have beer disregarded No man-thinks more highly, than I do, of the and we have been spurnel, with contempi, trom patriotism, as well as the abilities, of the very the foot of the throne. In vain, after these inings, worthy gentlemen, who have just addressed the may we indulge the fond hope of peace, and recono nouse. But, different men-often see the same ciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. subject in different lights; and therefore, I hope it If we wish to be free; if we mean to preserve, in. will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen, ciolate, those inestimable privileges, for which we ii. entertaining, as I do, opinions of a character have been so long contending; if' we mean not very opposite io theirs, I should speak forth my basely to abandon the noble struggle, in which gentiments-freely, and without reserve. This, sir, we have been so long engaged, and which we is no time for ceremony. The question before the have pledged ourselves, nerer to abandon, until the house is one of awful moment to this country. For glorious olject of our contest shall be obtained my part, I consider it as nothing less than a ques. we must fighl! I repeat it!-sir, we must fight! tion of freedom, or slavery: and in proportion to the An appeal to arms, and to the Gov of hosts, is all magnitude of the subject, ouglu to be the freedom that is left us. They tell us, sir, that we are weak, of debate. It is only in this way we can hope to unable to cope with so formidable an adversary arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility | But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the which we hold to God, and to our country. Were next week, or the next year? Will it be-when I to withhold my sentiments, at such a time as we are totally disarnied, and when a British guard this, through fear of giving offence

, I should consi- shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gader myself as guilty of reason toward my country, ther strength-by irresolution, and inaction? Shall and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of we acquire the means of effectual resistance, liy Heaven; whom I revere above all earthly kings. lying supinely

on our backs, and hugging the deIt is natural for man-10 indulge in the illusions lusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a

bound us-hand-and foot? Sir, we are not weak, painful truth; and listen-to the song of that syren, if we make a proper use of those means, which ulishe transforms us-into beasts. Is this the part the God of nature hath placed in our power. of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous strug. Three millions of people, armed-in the holy cause gle for LIBERTY? Are we disposed to be of the of LIBERTY, and in such a country as that which uumber of those, who, haring eyes, see not, and we possess, are invincible, by any force, which haring ears, hear not, the things, which so nearly our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we concer their temporal salvation? For my pari, shall not fight our batiles alone. There is a just whatever anguish of spirit it may cosi, I am willing God, --who presides over the destinies of nations, to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to and who will raise up friends to fight our battles proride for it.

for us. The baule, sir, is not to the strong-alone; I have but one lamp, by which my feet are it is to the vigilan, the active, the BRAVE. Besides, puided; and that—is the lamp-ot EXPERIENCE. I sir, we have no election. If we were base enough 10 know of no way of judging of the future, but by desire it, it is now too late—o retire from the contesi. the past. And, judging by the past, I wish to There is no tetreat, but in submission and slavery! know what there has been, in the conduct of the Our chains are forged. Their clanking-may be British ministry, for the last ten years. to justify heard on the plains of Boston! The war is ineriethose hopes, with which gentlemen have been able--and let it come!- I repeal it, sir, let it COME! pleased to solace themselves, and the house? Is it It is vain, sir, to ertenuate the mailer. Gentle that insidious smile. with which our petition has men may cry--PEACE-PF.ACE-but there is no teen lately received? Trust it noi, sir; it will prove peace. The war is actually begun! The next Einare-to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be gale, that sweeps from the north, will bring 10 our betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves--how this ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren gracious reception of our petition-comports with are already in the field! Why stand we here Adle! those warlike preparations, which cover our wa What is it that gentlemen wish? what would they k-s, and darken our land. Are fleets, and armies, have? Is life-so--

dar, or peace-s0 siveet, as to necessary to a work of love, and reconciliation ? be purchased at the price oi chains-and slavery! Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be re Fortiid i1.-- Almighty Gov.-I know 101- what conciled, that force must be called in to win back course others may lake.--but, as for me, give me our love! Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These LIBERTY,-or give me-DEATU!" are the implements of war, and subjugation-ihe

664. AMERICA. inse arguments—0 which kings resort. I ask, Sull one great clime, in full and tree defiance, gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, ir its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can

Yer rears her cresi, unconquer'd and sublime, gentlemen assign any other, possible mouve for it? Above the fair Atlantic! she has taught Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of Her Esau brethren that the haughty tlag, the world, to call for all this accumulation of na. The floating fence of Albion's seebler crag, (bought ties, and armies? No sir, she has none. They are meant for us : they can be meant for no other. May strike to lose wlose red right hands have They are sent over-io bind, and river upon us, Righis cheaply earn'd with blood. Sull, still, forever those chains, which the British ministry have been Beller, though each man's life-blood were a river, so long forging. And what have we to oppose to that it should flow, and overflow, than creep them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have througn thousand lazy channels in our veins, been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything nero to offer upon the subject ? Nothing. Damm'd like the dull canal, with locks and chaing We have held the subject up in every lightof which And moving, as a sick mau in his sleep, 1 is capable; but it has been all in rain. Shall Three paces, and then faltering :-better be we resort to entreaty, and humble supplication ? What terms shall we find, which have not been Where the extinguish'd Spartans sull are free, already exhausted? Let us not, I be

In their proud charnel of Thermopylae, bir. deceive ourselves onger. Sir, we have done Than stagnate in our marsh,--or o'er the deep everything that could be done, lo avert the storm, Fly, and one current to the ocean add, which is now coming on. We have petitioned; One spirit to the souis our fathers had, we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and One freeman more, America, 10 thee!-Byron. nave IMPLORED its interposition-lo arrest the ty. OB THE DREAD OF REFORM. The true and only rannical hands of the ministry, and parliament. reason, for not attempting a resorin of the state of Our peritions — have been slighted; our remon- things is, that the interest of corruption requires Ruances -have produced additional violence and I them to remain as they are.

ch you,

665. FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. ciple. Instead of sweeping the globe, witi When the hours of Day are numbered, the guilty purpose of oppressing the weak And the voices of the Night

robbing the defenceless, exciting the sound

of lamentation in the humble hut, and draw. Wake the better soul that slumbered

ing forth the tears of the widow, and the orTo a holy, calm delight

phan, let us do what is in our power—to pro Ere the evening lamps are lighted,

mote the happiness of our fellow men. In And, like phantoms grim and tall, the genuine spirit of brotherly affection, let Shadows from the fitful fire-light

us smoke the pipe of peace-with the untu

tored wanderer of the western wilderness Dance upon the parlor-wall-

or, partake of bread, and salt, with the bardy Then the forms of the departed

native of the African desert. Enter at the open door;

Mankind often complain, that they are un The beloved-one, the true-hearted,

happy; that they tread in a thorny path, and Come to visit me once more!

drink of a bitter stream. But whence do

their sufferings, and sorrows flow? Do they He, the young and strong, who cherished

not, in a great measure, proceed from theu Noble longings for the strife

own selfish, and malignant passions? ReBy the road-side fell and perished,

move the cause, and the effect will disappear. Weary with the march of life!

Banish malice, envy, hatred; let genuine

good-will towards each other prevail, and a They, the holy ones and weakly,

great portion of human misery -- will fade Who the cross of suffering bore

away, like darkness--before the rising sun. Folded their pale hands so meekly

It will dissipate the gloom, which often clouds Spake with us on earth no more!

the countenance, and remove the grief, which And with them the being beauteous

often preys upon the heart.-Fergus Who unto my youth was given,

More than all things else to love me,

If thou hast plucked a flower
And is now a saint in heaven.

Of richest, rarest ray,
With a slow and noisless footstep

And borne it from its garden bower,
Comes that messenger divine,

Thou knowest 't will fade away:
Takes the vacant chair beside me,

If thou hast gathered gold,
Lays her gentle hand in mine;

Unrusted and refined,
And she sits and gazes at me,

That glittering hoard of worth untold.

Thou knowest the thief may find.
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and şaint-like,

There is a plant that fears

No adverse season's strife,
Looking downward from the skies.

But with an inborn fragrance cheers
Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer-

The wintry eye of life;

There is a wealth that foils
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,

The robber's roving eye,
Breathing from her lips of air.

The guerdon of the mind that louds
Oh! though oft depressed and lonely,

For immortality.
All my fears are laid aside,

Oye, whose brows are brighi,
If I but remember only

Whose bosoms feel no thorn,
Such as these have lived and died !

Seek knowledge, by the rosy light
666. THE WAY TO BE HAPPY. All man- Of youth's unfolding morn;
kind are brethren. Every human being, who With ardor uncontrolled,
comes in our way, and stands in need of our

Seek wisdom's lore sublime, aid, is entitled to our sympathy. Human na

And win the garland, and the gold ture, and distress, form a legitimate claim to our friendly assistance. We are not to with

That oannot change with time.--Sigourney hold our brotherly affection, from any of our

THE LAND OF REST. fellow men, because an imaginary line, a riv. Oh, when--shall I go to that land er, a ridge of mountains, or a channel of the

Where spirits-beatified dwell ? ocean, may have separated their birth-place oh, when shall I join their bright band, from ours; because their manners, customs, and political institutions are not the same

And bid to this earth-a farewell? with our own; because, by reason of differ- I am weary of life-and ils care, once of climate, and manner of life, their I am weary of life and its woe, skin is tinged with a different color; because Oh, when to that country so fair, they offer their tribute of homage-to the To that country unknown, shall I go? Creator in a different manner; or, because there is some difference, or shade of differ- A soft yellow light fills the air ence, between their religious rites, and opin

Of that land, which I long to behold; [there ions, and ours.

And the faces and forms of the saints who ar The sentiment of universal benevolence- Are clothed-in its lustre of gold. expands the heart, humanizes the mind, and Like angels they look as they move, fostersevery generous affection; but jealousy,

And like angels they pass the sweet hours; malace, hatred, and other malignant pas for they are not norials, but spirits, who move sions pervert the soul, and cramp, and vitiate—the best feelings of our nature. They

In the light of those beautiful bowers. wage war with every manly, and liberal prin- Face to face the truth comes out

667. THE PERFECT ORATOR. Imagine to

669. IME-NEW YEAR. yourselves-- a Demosthenes, addressing the 'Tis midnight's holy hour; and silence, now most illustrious assembly in the world, upon Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er [w.nds, a point whereon the fate of the most illustri- The still—and pulseless world. Hark! on tho ous of nations depended. How awful such a meeting! how vast the subject! By the The bell's deep tones are swelling: ’us the knell power of his eloquence, the augustness of the of the departed—year. No funeral train assembly is lost—in the dignity of the orator; Is sweeping past; yet, on the stream, and wood, And the importance of the subject, for a while, With melancholy light, the moonbeam's rest, superseded by the admiration of his talents. Like a pale, spotless shroud : the air is stirred,

With what strength of argument, with what A. by a mourner's sigh; and, on yon cloud, powers of the fancy, with what emotions of That floats so still, and placidly, through heaven, the heart, does he assault, and subjugate, the whole man; and, at once, captivate his rea- The spirits-of the seasons—seem to stand, (ionn, son, his imagination, and his passions! To Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn effect this, must be the utmost effort of the And Winter, with his aged locks, and breath, most improved state of human nature. Not In mournsul cadence, that come abroad, a faculty that he possesses, but is here exerted Like the far wind-narp's wild, and touching waily to its highest pitch. All his internal powers A melancholy dirge-o'er the dead yearare at work; all his external, testify their en

Gone- íroin the earth-forever. ergies.

Tis a time Within, the memory, the fancy, the judg. ment, the passions, are all busy; without, For inemory, and tears. Within the deep, every muscle, every nerve is exerted; not a Sull chambers of the heari, a spectre dim, feature, not a limb, but speaks. The organs Whose tones are like the wizard's voice of Timo, of the body, attuned to the exertions of the Heard from the tomb of ages, points its coldmind, thro the kindred organs of the hearers, And solenn finger--to the beautiful instantaneously vibrate those energies-from And boly visions, that have passed away, soul to soul. Notwithstanding the diversity of minds, in such a multitude, by the light and left po shadow of their loveliness, ning of eloquence, they are melted into one on the dead waste of life. That spectre-lifto mass; the whole assembly, actuated in one The coffin-lid of Hope, and Joy, and Love, and the same way, become, as it were, but one And, bending, mournfully, above the pale, (flowurs man, and have but one voice. The universal Sweet forms, that slumber there, scaners dead cry is—Let us march against Philip, let us O'er what has passed to nothingness. The year fight for our liberties, let us conquer, or die.

Has gone, and, with it, many a glorious throng 668. WIFE, CHILDREN, AND FRIENDS.

Of happy dreams. Its mark-is on each brow, When the black-letter'd list to the gods was presenter,

Its shadow-in each heart. In its swift course, The list of what fate for each mortal intends, At the long string of ills a kind goddess relented,

It waved its scepire o'er the beautifulAnd clipp'd in three blessings, wile, children, and friends. And they are not. It laid its palid hand ia vin surly Pluto declared he was cheated,

Upon the strong man-and the haughty formAnd justice divine could not compass her ends,

Is fallen, and the flashing eye-is dim. The scheme of man's penance he swore was defeated,

It trod the hall of revelry, where thronged For earth becomes beaven with wife, children, and friend..

The bright and joyous—and the tearful wailIl the stock of our bliss is in stranger hands rested,

Of stricken ones—is heard, where erst, the song, The fund, ill-secured, oft in bankruptcy ends, Dut the heart issues bills, which are never protested,

And reckless shout-resounded. It passed o'er When drawn on the firm of-wile, children, and friends. The battle-plain, where sword,and spear,and shield The soldier, whose deeds live immortal in story,

Flashed-in the light of mid-day-and the strength When duty to far distant latitudes sends,

Of serried hosts is shivered, and the grass, With transport would barter whole ages of glory,

Green from the soil of carnage, waves above For one happy hour with wife, children, and friends.

The crushed, and mouldering skeleton. It came, Though valor still glows in life's waning embers,

And faded, like a wreath of misi, at eve;
The death-wounded tar, who his colors defends,
Drops a tear of regret, as be dying remembers,

Yet, ere it melted in the viewless air,
How blest was his home, with wife, children, and friends

It heralded its millions—to their home-
Though the spice-breathing gale, o'er his caravan hover,

In the dim land-of dreams. Though around him Arabia's whole fragrance descends, Looking into the fire is very injurious to the The merchant still thinks of the woodbine that covers

eyes, particularly a coal fire. The stimulus ví The power where he sat with wife, children, and friends. light and heat united, soon destroys the eyes. The day-spring of youth, still unclouded with sorrow, Looking at molten iron will soon destroy the Alone on itsal for enjoyment depends,

sight. Reading in the twilight is injurious to But drear is the twilight of age, if it borrow

the eyes, as they are obliged to make great ex. No warmth from the smiles of wife, children and friende.

ertion. Reading or sewing with a side light, Let the breath of renown er freshen and nourish

injures the eyes, as both eyes should be ex. The laurel that o'er her fair favorites bends,

posed to an equal degree of light. The reason O'er me wave the willow, and long may it dourish, is, the sympathy between the eyes is so great,

Bedew'd with the tears of wife, children, and friends that if the pupil of one is dilated by being kept friendship is constant in all other things, partially in the shade, the one that is most ex. Save in the office and affairs of love:

posed cannot contract itself sufliciently for Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues. Those who wish to preserve their sight, should

protection, and will ultimately be injured. Let overy eyo negotiate for i seli,

preserve their general health by correct habits, And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch, and give their eyes just work enough, with a Agains' whose charms faith melteth into blood due degree of light

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