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Slighting, by my humble side,
5. Let me, then, indulgent Fate!
By goods that perish with the dead!
Fitly might the life of man
Be, indeed, esteemed a span,
If the present moment were
Of delight his only share;
If no other joys he knew
Than whai5 round about him grew : —
6. But, — as those who stars would trace
So the immortal spirit may,
When descended to our clay,
From a rightly governed frame,
View the height from whence she came;
To her Paradise be caught,
And things unutterable taught!
7 Give me, then, in that retreat, —
COUNTESS OP WINCUEI.SEA.*
• Th^jS lady, whose maiden name -vas Anne Kingsmill, died in 1720. She was the friend of Pope, who complimented her highly in some of his verses Wordsworth says of her, that she is " one of the very few original observers of uature who appeared in an artificial age."
CLVIII. — JOHN LITTLEJOHN.
1. John Littlejohn was stanch and strong,
H John Littlejohn was firm and true,
You could not cheat him in " two and two ;"
3. John Littlejohn maintained the right,
Dosed him with arguments, learned by rote,
4. When told that kings had a right divine,
That the poor were unimproved by school,
5. When told that events might justify
That a decent hope of future good
Might excuse departure trom rectitude,
That a lie, if white, was a small offence.
To be forgiven by men of sense,
"Nay, nay," said John, with a sigh and frown,
"The coin is spurious, nail it down." Mack At OhIX. POETRY OF lUE SEASONS.
1. Stjnkise In Summer. - Thomson.
But yonder comes the powerful king of day,
Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud,
The kindling azure, and tho mountain's brow
Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach
Betoken glad. Lo! now apparent all,
Aslant the dew-hvight earth and colored air
He looks in boundless majesty abroad,
And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays
On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams,
High gleaming from afar! Prime cheerer Light!
Of all material beings first and best!
Efflux divine! Nature's resplendent robe!
Without whose vesting beauty all were wrapt
In unessential gloom; and thou, O Sun!
Soul of surrounding worlds! in whom best seen
Shines out thy Maker! May I sing of thee?
2. Welcome Of The Birds. — Holmes.
Now bursts the song from every leafy glade,
3. To The Flowers.—Horace Smith.
Day-stars! that ope your frownless eyes, to twinkle
From rainbow galaxies13 of earth's creation,
Tour voiceless lips, O flowers! are living preachers,
Each cup a pulpit and each leaf a book, Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers From loneliest nook!
• Thou wast not, Solomon, in all thy glory
Arrayed," the lilies cry, "in robes like ours! How vain your grandeur! Ah, how transitory Are buman flowers!"
Ephe-m'eraln sages! what instructors hoary
For such a world of thought could furnish scops!
Posfhumous" glories! angel-like collection!
Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth,
Were I, O God! in churchless lands remaining,
Far from all teachers and from all divines,
4. Summer Winn. — Bryant.
It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk
CLX. — PROGRESS OF CIVILIZATION.
1. Of the blessings which civilization and philosophy brinj with them, a large proportion is common to all ranks, and woulA if withdrawn, be missed as painfully by the laborer aa by tbt peer. The market-place, which the rustic can now roach witk his cart in an hour, was, a hundred and sixty years ago, a day's journey from him. The street, wh:ch now affords to the ar'tisan, during the whole night, a secure, a convenient, and a brilliantly. Lighted walk, was, a hundred and sixty years ago, so dark after sunset that he would not have been able to see his hand, so ill paved that he would have run constant risk of breaking his neck, and so ill watched that he would have been in imminent' danger of being knocked down and plundered of his small earnings. Every bricklayer who falls from a scaffold, every sweeper of a crossing who is run over by a carriage, now may have his wounds dressed and his limbs set with a skill such as, a hundred and sixty years ago, all the wealth of a great lord like Ormond, or of a merchant prince like Clayton, could not have purchased.
2. Some frightful diseases have been extir'pated by science, and some have been banished by police. The term of human life has been lengthened over the whole kingdom, and especially in the towns. The year 1685 was not accounted sickly; yet in the year 1685 more than one in twenty-three of the inhabitants of the capital died. At present only one inhabitant of the capital in forty dies annually. The difference in salubrity between the London of the nineteenth century and the London of the seventeenth century is very far greater than the difference between London in an ordinary season and London in the cholera.
3. Still more important is the benefit which all orders of society, and especially the lower orders, have derived from the mollifying influence of civilization on the national character. The ground-work of that character has indeed been the same through many generations, in the sense in which the groundwork of the character of an individual may be said to be the game when he is a rude and thoughtless schoolboy and when he is a refined and accomplished man. It is pleasing to reflect that the public mind of England has softened while it has ripened, and that we have, in the course of ages, become, not only a wiser, but also a kinder people. There is scarcely a page of the history or lighter literature of the seventeenth century which does not contain some proof that our ancestors were less humane than their posterity.
4. The discipline of work-shops, of schools, of private families, though not more efficient than at present, was infinitely harsher. Masters, well bom and bred, were in the habit of beating their servants. Pedagogues" knew no way of imparting knowledge but by beating their pupils. Husbands of decent station were not ashamed to beat their wives. The implacability of hostile factions was such as we can scarcely conceive. As little mercy was shown by the populace to sufferers of a