LESSON LXXVII. The Warrior's Wreath.-ANONYMOUS. 1. BEHOLD the wreath which decks the warrior's brow Breathes it a balmy fragrance sweet? Ah, no! It rankly savors of the grave! "Tis red-but not with roseate hues ; "Tis crimsoned o'er With human gore! "Tis wet-but not with heavenly dews; 2. 'Tis drench'd in tears by widows, orphans shed. In deep distress, 3. I hear, 'mid dying groans, the cannon's crash, The crystal flood, Heaven's altars, and the verdant plains! 4. Scenes of domestic peace and social bliss Towns sack'd-whole cities wrapt in flame! Is this the bay, Which warriors gain?—is this call'd FAME? LESSON LXXVIII. Elegy written in a Country Church Yard.-GRAY 1. THE curfew tolls-the knell of parting day;The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea ;* The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. *Lea, a meadow, or plain. 2. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 4. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 5. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow, twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 7. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield; Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! 8. Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys and destiny obscure; The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 10. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, 11. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Beetle, an insect Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire; 13. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear; 15. Some village Hampden,* that, with dauntless breast, And read their history in a nation's eyes; 17. Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ;— 18. The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide, With incense kindled at the muse's flame. John Hampden, an illustrious patriot and political writer in the reign of Charles I. He was a man of undaunted courage;-and in 1636, he had the boldness, alone, and unsupported, to resist the royal authority in levying ship-money, and although he lost his cause, he was highly applauded by all for his firmness. He died 1643. + John Milton, an English poet, born 1608. The most celebrated work which he wrote, is "PARADISE LOST." Oliver Cromwell, a distinguished English General, was born 1599.After the death of Charles I., he assumed the title of "Protector of the Commonwealth of England," 1653. He administered the affairs of the kingdom for five years, with great vigor and ability. He died in 1658. 19 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray: Along the cool, sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 20. Yet even these bones from insult to protect, Some frail memorial, still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 21. Their name, their years, spelled by the unlettered muse, 22. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,- Some pious drops the closing eye requires : 24. For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead, Oft have we seen him, at the peep of dawn, Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. 29. "The next, with dirges due, in sad array, Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." THE EPITAPH. 30. HERE rests his head, upon the lap of earth, He gained from heaven-'twas all he wished-a friend. 32. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode(There they, alike, in trembling hope, repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. LESSON LXXIX. Ossian's* Address to the Sun. 1. O THOU that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers! Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty, and the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave. But thou thyself movest alone: who can be a companion of thy course? The oaks of the mountains fall; the mountains themselves decay with years; the ocean shrinks and grows again; the moon herself is lost in heaven; but thou art for ever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. 2. When the world is dark with tempests; when thunder rolls, and lightning flies; thou lookest in thy beauty, from the clouds, and laughest at the storm. But to Ossian, thou lookest in vain; for he beholds thy beams no more; whether thy yellow hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou art perhaps, like me, for a season, and thy years will have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the morning. *Ossian, an ancient Scotch, or Gælic poet, supposed to have flourished in the second century, and to have been the son of Fingal. His poems were translated by Mr. M'Pherson, in 1762. |