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Let us contemplate, then, this connection, which binds the posterity of others to our own; and let us manfully discharge all the duties it imposes. If we cherish the virtues, and the principles of our fathers, Heaven will assist us to carry on the work of human libomens cheer us. Great examples are before us. Our firmament now shines brightly upon our path. Washington is in the clear, upper sky. Adams, Jefferson, and other stars have joined the American constellation; they circle round their center, and the heavens beam with new light. Beneath this illumination, let us walk the course of life; and, at its close, devoutly commend our beloved country, the common parent of us all, to the divine benignity.--Webster.

734. DUTIES OF AMERICAN CITIZENS. Fellow-citizens: let us not retire from this occasion, without a deep and solemn conviction of the duties, which have devolved upon us. This lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign institutions, the dear purchase of our fathers, are ours; ours to enjoy, ours to pre-erty, and human happiness. Auspicious serve, ours to transmit. Generations past, and generations to come, hold us responsible for this sacred trust. Our fathers, from behind-admonish us with their anxious, paternal voices; postery-calls out to us from the bosom of the future; the world turns hither its solicitous eyes; all, all conjure us to act wisely, and faithfully, in the relation which we sustain. We can never, indeed, pay the debt which is upon us; but, by virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of every good principle, and every good habit, we may bope to enjoy the blessing, through our day, and leave it, unimpaired, to our children.

Let us feel deeply, how much of what we are, and what we possess, we owe to this liberty, and to these institutions of government. Nature has, indeed, given us a soil, which yields bounteously-to the hands of industry; the mighty and fruitful ocean is before us, and the skies, over our heads, shed health and vigor. But what are lands, and seas, and skies to civilized man, without society, without knowledge, without morals, without religious culture; and how can these be enjoyed, in all their extent, and all their excellence, but under the protection of wise institutions, and a free government? Fellow-citizens, there is not one of us here present, who does not, at this moment, and at every moment, experience, in his own condition, and in the condition of those most near and dear to him, the influence, and the benefits-of this liberty, and these institutions. Let us then, acknowledge the blessing; let us feel it deeply, and powerfully; let us cherish a strong affection for it, and resolve to maintain, and perpetuate it. The blood of our fathers, let it not have been shed in vain; the great hope of posterity, let it not be blasted.

The striking attitude, too, in which we stand to the world around us,--cannot be altogether omitted here. Neither individuals, nor nations--can perform their part well, until they understand, and feel its importance, and comprehend, and justly appreciate, all the duties belonging to it. It is not to inflate national vanity, nor to swell a light and empty feeling of self-importance; but it is, that we may judge justly of our situation and of our duties, that I earnestly urge this consideration of our position, and our character among the nations of the earth.

It cannot be denied, but by those who would dispute against the sun, that with America, and in America, a new era commences in human affairs. This era is distinguished by free representative governments, by entire religious liberty, by improved systems of national intercourse, by a newly awakened and an unquenchable spirit of free inquiry, and by a diffusion of knowledge through the community, such as has been before, altogether unknown, and unheard of. America, America, our country, fellow-citizens, our own dear and native land, is inseparably connected, fast bound up, in fortune, and by fate, with these great interests. If they fall, we fall with them; if they stand, it will be because we have upholden them.

735. LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. The breaking waves-dashed high

On a stern-and rock-bound coast,
And the woods-against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches-tossed;

And the heavy night--hung dark-
The hills-and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles-moored their bark
On the wild-New England shore.
Not-as the conqueror-comes,
They, the true-hearted, came,
Not with the roll-of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet-that sings of fame.
Not-as the flying-come,

In silence, and in fear;

They shook-the depth-of the desert's gloom,
With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm-they sang,

And the stars-heard, and the sea;

And the sounding aisles-of the dim woods rang
To the anthem-of the free.

The ocean-eagle-soared

From his nest-by the white wave's foam,
And the rocking pines--of the forest roared;
This was their welcome home.

There were men-with hoary hair,
Amidst that pilgrim band,
Why had they come-to wither there,
Away-from their childhood's land?

There was woman's-fearless eye,
Lit-by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow, serenely high,
And the fiery heart-of youth.

What-sought they-thus, afar?
Bright jewels-of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought-a faith's pure shrine!

Aye, call it holy ground,

[found

The soil-where first they trod!
They have left, unstained-what there--they
Freedom-to worship God!-Hemans.

Twas Slander-filled her mouth with lying words,
Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin. The man
In whom this spirit entered-was undone.
His tongue-was set on fire of hell, his heart
Was black as death, his legs-were faint with haste
To propagate the lie-his soul had framed ;
His pillow-was the peace of families
Destroyed, the sigh of innocence reproached,
Broken friendships, and the strife of brotherhoods.
Yet did he spare his sleep, and hear the clock
Number the midnight watches, on his bed,
Devising mischief more; and early rose,
And made most hellish meals of good men's names

Here was a spectacle-for the potentates of the earth to look upon, an example for them to imitate. But the potentates the earth did not see; or, if they saw, they turned away their eyes from the sight; they did not hear; or, if they heard, they shut their ears against the voice.

736. THE PILGRIMS, AND THEIR DESTI- | boasted institutions? Interrogate the shades NY. Methinks I see it now,-that one, solita- of those who fell in the mighty contests, bery, adventurous vessel, the Mayflower-of a tween Athens and Lacedæmon, between forlorn hope, freighted-with the prospects Carthage and Rome, and between Rome and of a future state, and bound-across the un- the rest of the universe. But see our Wilknown sea. I behold it pursuing, with a liam Penn, with weaponless hands, sitting thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedi- down, peaceably, with his followers, in the ous voyage. Suns rise-and set, and weeks, midst of savage nations, whose only occupaand months-pass, and winter-surprises tion was shedding the blood of their fellowthem on the deep, but brings them not-the men, disarming them by his justice, and teachsight of the wished-for shore. I see them ing them, for the first time, to view a stranger now, scantily supplied with provisions, crowd- without distrust. See them bury their tomaed, almost to suffocation, in their ill-stored hawks, in his presence, so deep, that man shall prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuit- never be able to find them again. See them ors route, and now, driven in fury, before under the shade of the thick groves of Quathe raging tempest, on the high and giddy quannock, extend the bright chain of friendwaves. The awful voice of the storm-howls ship, and promise to preserve it, as long as through the rigging. The laboring masts- the sun, and moon shall endure. See him, seem straining from their base; the dismal then, with his companions, establishing his sound of the pump-is heard-the ship leaps, commonwealth on the sole basis of religion, as it were, madly, from billow to billow; the morality, and universal love, and adopting, ocean breaks, and settles with engulphing as the fundamental maxims of his governfloods over the floating deck, and beats, ment, the rule handed down to us from with deadening weight, against the staggered HEAVEN, "Glory to God on high, and on vessel. I see them escaped from these perils, earth peace, and good will to all men." pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed, at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth,weak, and weary from the voyage,-poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the charity of their ship-master-for a draft of beer on board, drinking nothing but water on shore, without shelter,-without means,— The character of William Penn alone, surrounded by hostile tribes. Shut, now, the sheds a never-fading lustre upon our history. volume of history, and tell me, on any prin- No other state in this Union can boast of such ciple of human probability, what shall be the an illustrious founder; none began their sofate of this handfull of adventurers? Tell me, cial career, under auspices so honorable to man of military science, in how many months humanity. Every trait of the life of that were they all swept off-by the thirty savage great man, every fact, and anecdote, of those tribes, enumerated within the early limits of golden times, will furnish many an interestNew England? Tell me, politician, howing subject for the fancy of the novelist, and long did this shadow of a colony, on which the enthusiasm of the poet.-Duponceau. your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast? Student of 738. WOLSEY'S SOLILOQUY ON AMBITION. history, compare for me-the baffled pro- Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! jects, the deserted settlements, the abandon-This-is the state of man: To-day, he puts forth ed adventures, of other times, and find the parallel of this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and children; was it hard labor and spare meals; was it disease, was it the tomahawk; was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last moments, at the recollection of the loved and left, beyond the sea; was it some, or all of these united, that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate? And is it possible, that neither of these causes, that not all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope? Is it possible, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy, not so much of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so wonderful, a reality so important, a promise yet to be fulfilled, so glorious?-Everett.

737. TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM PENN. Wil

The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow, blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors-thick upon him;
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ;
And, when he thinks, good, easy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripening, nips his root;
And then he falls, as I do.

I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders,
These many summers--in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth; my high-blown pride
At length-broke under me; and now has left me,
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must forever-hide me.
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate you!
I feel my heart now open'd.

O! how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favors! liam Penn-stands the first, among the law- There are, betwixt that smile--he would aspire to, givers, whose names, and deeds are recorded That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin, in history. Shall we compare with him Lycur- More pangs and fears, than war or women have; gus, Solon, Romulus, those founders of mili-And when he falls, he falls, like Lucifer, tary commonwealths, who organized their Never-to rise again.-Shakspeare. citizens in dreadful array-against the rest of their species? taught them to consider their fellow-men as barbarians, and themselves as alone worthy to rule over the earth? What benefit did mankind derive from their

Meditation-here

May think down hours-to moments; here, the
May give a useful lesson--to the head, [heart
And learning, wiser grow-without his books.

739. BASQUE GIRL, OR LOVE'S SACRIFICE. "Twas one of those sweet spots, which seem just For lovers' meeting, or, for minstrel haunts;[made The maiden's blush-would look so beautiful, By those white roses, and the poet's dream, Would be so soothing, lull'd by the low notes, The birds sing--to the leaves, whose soft replyIs murmur'd by the wind: the grass beneath, Is full of wild flowers, and the cypress boughs Have twined o'erhead, graceful, and close as love. The sun is shining cheerfully, though scarce his May pierce through the dim shade, yet, still, [rays Some golden hues are glancing o'er the trees, And the blue flood is gliding by, as bright, As hope's first smile. All, lingering, stayed to Upon this Eden-of the painter's art, [gaze And looking on its loveliness, forgotThe crowded world-around them! But a spell, Stronger than the green landscape-fixed the The spell-of woman's beauty! By a beech, [eyeWhose long dark shadow--fell upon the stream, There stood a radiant girl! her chestnut hair(One bright gold tint was on it)-loosely fell In large rich curls-upon a neck, whose snow And grace--were like the swan's; she wore the Of her own village, and her small white feet [garb And slender ancles, delicate, as carved From Indian ivory-were bare,—the turf [stood! Seem'd scarce to feel their pressure. There she Her head-leant upon her arm, the beech's trunk Supporting her slight figure, and one hand, Press'd to her heart, as if to still its throbs! You never might forget that face,-so young, So fair, yet trac'd-with such deep characters Of inward wretchedness! The eyes were dim With tears, on the dark lashes; still, the lip Could not quite lose-its own accustom'd smile, Even by that pale cheek-it kept its arch, And tender playfulness: you look'd, and said, What can have shadow'd-such a sunny brow? There is so much of natural happiness, In that bright countenance, it seems but formed, For Spring's light sunbeams, or yet lighter dews. You turned away-then came-and look'd again, Watching the pale, and silent loveliness, Till even sleep-was haunted by that image. There was a sever'd chain upon the groundAh! love is e'en more fragile than its gifts! A tress of raven hair ;-oh! only those, Whose souls have felt this one idolatry, Can tell-how precious-is the slightest thing, Affection gives, and hallows! A dead flower Will long be kept, remembrancer of looks, That made each leaf a treasure. The tree Had two slight words-graven upon its stemThe broken heart's last record-of its faith-"Adieu Henri!"

I learnt the hist'ry of the lovely picture: It was a peasant girl's, whose soul was given To one-as far above her, as the pineTowers o'er the lovely violet; yet still She lov'd, and was belov'd again,--ere yet The many trammels of the world-were flung Around a heart, whose first and latest pulse, Throbb'd-but for beauty: him, the young, the brave,

Chivalrous prince, whose name, in after years,

A nation-was to worship-that young heart-
Beat with its first wild passion-that pure feeling,
Life only once may know. I will not dwell
On how affection's bark was launch'd, and lost :
Love, thou hast hopes, like summer's-short,
and bright

Moments of ecstasy, and maddening dreams,
Intense, delicious throbs! But happiness
Is not for thee. If ever thou hast known
Quiet, yet deep enjoyment, 'tis, or ere
Thy presence is confessed; but, once reveal'd,
We bow us down-in passionate devotion,
Vow'd at thy altar; then the serpents wake,
That coil around thy votaries-hopes that make
Tears-burning arrows-lingering jealousy,
And last, worst poison, of thy cup-neglect.
It matters little, how she was forgotten,
Or what she felt-a woman--can but weep.
She pray'd her lover, but to say--farewell,—
To meet her, by the river, where such hours
Of happiness had passed, and said, she knew
How much she was beneath him; but she pray'd,
That he would look upon her face-once more!
He sought the spot,--upon the beechen tree
"Adieu Henri" was graven-and his heart-
Felt cold-within him! He turned to the wave,
And there-the beautiful peasant floated-Death
Had seal'd—“Love's—sacrifice !”
740. HOME.

There is a land, of every land the pride,
Belov'd by heaven-o'er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns-dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth,
Time tutored age, and love exalted youth.
The wandering mariner, whose eyes explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm-so beautiful and fair,
Nor breathes a spirit of a purer air;
In every clime-the magnet of his soul,
Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole ;
For in this land-of heaven's peculiar grace,
The heritage-of nature's noblest race,
There is a spot of earth-supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot-than all the rest,
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword, and sceptre, pageantry, and pride;
Within his softened looks, benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, father, friend:
Here, woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strews, with fresh flowers, the narrow way of
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye, [life;
An angel guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees, domestic duties meet,
And fire-side pleasures gamble at her feet.
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?
Art thou a man? a patriot? look around;
Oh! thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land--thy country, and that spot-thy home!
He, who, malignant, tears an absent friend,
Or, when attacked by others, don't defend;
Who trivial bursts of laughter strives to raise,
And counts of prating petulance the praise;
Of things he never saw, who tells his tale,
And friendship's secrets knows not to conceal;
This man is vile; here, Roman, fix your mark;
His soul is black.

741. MARIA DE TORQUEMADA TAKING THE VAIL.
"My lord! you should have seen her, as she stood,
Bidding the world-farewell. Her pretty hands,
Like two enclasping lilies; in her eyes,

Two quivering crystal drops,-her cheek-a rose,
Yet of the whitest, turned upon the sky,

To which her thoughts were wing'd! I never saw
So heavenly touch'd a sorrow!"

There is a spot, a holy spot,

A refuge for the wearied mind;
Where earth's wild visions-are forgot,
And love, thy poison spell 's untwined.
There, learns the withered heart-to pray-
There, gently breaks earth's weary chain;
Nay, let me weep my life away-

Let me do all,-but love again.
Oh! thou that judgest of the heart,
Look down upon this bosom bare;
And all, all mercy as thou art,

Save from that wildest, worst despair.
There-silent, dreamless, loveless, lone,
The agony, at length, is o'er;

The bleeding breast-is turned to stone,
Hope dies-and passion-wakes no more.

I ask not death,-I wait thy will;

I dare not-touch my fleeting span:
But let me, oh! not linger still,

The slave of misery and man!
Why sink my steps! one struggle past,
And all the rest-is quiet gloom;
Eyes-look your longest, and your last,
Then, turn ye to your cell, and tomb.
Fly swift, ye hours!-the convent grate,
To me-is open Paradise:
The keenest bitterness of fate,

Can last, but till the victim-dies!

742. FALL OF BEAUTY, BY TEMPTATION. Once on a lovely day, it was in springI rested on the verge of that dread cliff, That overlooks old Sterling. All was gay; The birds-sang sweet; the trees-put forth their leaves,

I saw her, in mid air, fall like a seraph
From out the firmament. The rooks and daws,
That fled their roosts, in thousands, at the sight,
Curtained her exit-from my palsied eye,
And dizzy brain. O! never, will that scene
Part from my heart! whene'er I would be sad,
I think of it.

743. THE BEST OF WIVES.

[ceasing.

A man had once a vicious wife--
(A most uncommon thing in life);
His days and nights-were spent in strife-un-
Sweet contradiction-still her song,
Her tongue went glibly-all day long,

[done.

And all the poor man did-was wrong, and ill-
A truce without doors, or within,

From speeches-long as tradesmen spin,
Or rest from her eternal din, he found not.
He every soothing art displayed;
Tried of what stuff her skin was made:
Failing in all, to Heaven he prayed--to take her.
Once, walking by a river's side,

In mournful terms, "My dear," he cried, [them.
"No more let feuds our peace divide,-I'll end
"Weary of life, and quite resigned,

To drown-I have made up my mind,
So tie my hands as fast behind-as can be,-
"Or nature-may assert her reign,
My arms assist, my will restrain,
And swimming, I once more regain, my troubles."
With eager haste-the dame complies,
While joy-stands glistening in her eyes;
Already, in her thoughts, he dies-before her.
"Yet, when I view the rolling tide,
Nature revolts"-he said; "beside,

I would not be a suicide, and die thus.
"It would be better, far I think,
While close I stand-upon the brink,
You push me in,-nay, never shrink-but do it.
To give the blow--the more effect,
Some twenty yards--she ran direct,
And did-what she could least expect, she should
He slips aside-himself to save,
So souse-she dashes, in the wave,
And gave, what ne'er she gave before-much

[soms;
So pale, that in the sun, they looked like blos-
Some children wandered, careless, on the hill,
Selecting early flowers. My heart rejoiced,
For all was glad around me. One sweet maid
Came tripping near, eyeing, with gladsome smile," Dear husband, help! I sink!" she cried;

Each little flower, that bloomed upon the hill :
Nimbly she picked them,'minding me of the swan,
That feeds upon the waste. I blest the girl,-
She was not maid, nor child; but of that age,
'Twixt both, when purity of frame, and soul,
Awaken dreams of beauty, drawn in heaven.

Deep in a little den, within the cliff,

A flow'ret caught her eye,-it was a primrose,
Fair flaunting in the sun. With eager haste,
Heedless of risk, she clambered down the steep,
Pluck'd the wish'd flower, and sighed! for when

she saw

The depth she had descended, then, she woke
To sense of danger! All her flowers she dropped,
And tried to gain the height: but-tried in vain!
I hastened to her rescue; but-alas!
I came too late!-O God! she fell.

Far, far down-on the rocks below,
Her lovely form was found--at rest!

[do.

[pleasure.

"Thou best of wives-" the man replied,
"I would, but you my hands have tied,—hea-

ven help you."

The modern device of consulting indexes,
is to read books hebraically, and begin where
others usually end. And this is a compendi-
ous way of coming to an acquaintance with
authors; for authors are to be used like lob-
sters, you must look for the best meat in the
dish.
tails, and lay the bodies back again in the
else are readers, who only read to borrow, i.
Your cunningest thieves (and what
e. to steal) use to cut off the portmanteau
from behind, without staying to dive into the
pockets of the owner.-Swift.

Desire, (when young) is easily suppressed;
But, cherished by the sun of warm encourage-
ment,

Becomes too strong-and potent-for control;
Nor yields-but to despair, the worst of passions

744. ALEXANDER'S FEAST. Twas-at the royal feast, for Persia won, By Philip's warlike son.

Aloft, in awful state, the godlike hero sat On his imperial throne.

His valiant peers-were placed around,
Their brows, with roses, and with myrtles bound;
So, should desert, in arms be crowned.
The lovely Thais, by his side,

Sat, like a blooming Eastern bride,
In flower of youth, and beauty's pride.-
Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave, none but the brave,
None but the brave-deserve the fair.

Timotheus, placed on high,

Amid the tuneful choir,

With flying fingers-touched the lyre;
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heavenly joys inspire.

The song-began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above;
Such is the power-of mighty love.
A dragon's fiery form belied the god:
Sublime, on radiant spheres he rode,

When he, to fair Olympia pressed, [the world.
And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of
The listening crowd-admire the lofty sound:
A present deity! they shout around;"
A present deity! the vaulted roots rebound.

With ravished ears, the monarch hears;
Assumes the god, affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet musician
Of Bacchus, ever fair, and ever young.

The jolly god in triumph comes!
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums
Flushed with a purple grace,

He shows his honest face.

[sung,

[comes!

Now, give the hautboys breath-he comes! he
Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain.

Bacchus' blessings are a treasure;
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.

Rich the treasure; sweet the pleasure;

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain;
Fought his battles o'er again; [the slain.

And thrice he routed all his toes, and thrice he slew
The master saw the madness rise;
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And, while he heaven and earth defied,
Changed his hand, and checked his pride.-

He chose a mournful muse, soft pity to infuse,

He sung Darius, great and good,

[len,

By too severe a fate, fallen, fallen, fallen, fal-
Fallen from his high estate,

And weltering in his blood.

Deserted, in his utmost need,

By those, his former bounty fed,

On the bare earth-exposed he lies,

With not a friend-to close his eyes.

With downcast look-the joyless victor sat,
Revolving, in his altered soul,

The various turns of fate below,
And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears-began to flow.

The master smiled, to see,

That love--was in the next degree;
'Twas but a kindred sound to move;
For pity--melts the mind to love.

Softly sweet in Lydian measures,
Soon, he soothed his soul to pleasures;
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honor, but an empty bubble;
Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying.
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, oh! think it worth enjoying!
Lovely Thais sits beside thee;

Take the good the gods provide thee.

The many rend the skies with loud applause;
So love was crowned, but music-won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gazed on the fair, who caused his care,
And sighed and looked; sighed and looked;
Sighed and looked; and sighed again:
At length, with love, and wine, at once oppress'd,
The vanquished victor--sunk--upon her breast.
Now, strike the golden lyre again; ̧

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain:
Break his bands of sleep asunder,

And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark hark!--the horrid sound

[dead,

Hath raised up his head, as awaked from the
And amazed he stares around.
Revenge, revenge! Timotheus cries-
See the furies arise! See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in the air,

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
Behold a ghastly band, each a torch in his hand!
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,
And, unburied, remain inglorious on the plain.
Give the vengeance due to the valiant crew.
Behold, how they toss their torches on high!
How they point to the Persian abodes,
And glittering temples of their hostile gods!
The princes applaud, with a furious joy; [stroy:
And the king seized a flambeau, with zeal to de-
Thais led the way, to light him to his prey;
And, like another Helen-fired another Troy.
Thus, long ago, ere heaving bellows learned to
While organs yet were mute;
[blow,
Timotheus, to his breathing flute and sounding lyre,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
At last. divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame.

[fore.

The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
And added length-to solemn sounds,
With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown be-
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
Or both-divide the crown;
He-raised a mortal-to the skies;
She drew an angel down.-Dryden.

ORATOR PUFF.

Mr. Orator Puff-had two tones-in his voice,

The one-squeaking thus, and the other down so; In each sentence he utter'd he gave you your choice, For one half was B alt, and the rest G below.

Oh oh! Oratar Puff,

One voice for an orator 's surely enough.

But he still talked away, spite of coughs and of frowns,
So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs,

That a wag once, on hearing the orator say,

"My voice is for war," ask'd him, "Which of them, pray?" Oh! oh! &c.

Reeling homewards, one evening, top-heavy with gin,
And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the crown,
He tripp'd near a saw-pit, and tumbled right in,
"Sinking fund," the last words as his noddle came down.
Oh! oh! &c.

"Good Lord!" he exclaim'd, in his he-and-she tones,

"Help me out!-help me out!-I have broken my bones!" "Help you out!" said a Paddy, who pass'd, "what a bother! Why, there's two of you there; can't you help one anOh! oh! &c. [other?"

CHARACTER OF A GOOD PARSON.

His preaching much, but more his practice wro❜t;
(A living sermon of the truths he taught;)
For this by rules severe his life he squared,
That all might see the doctrine which they heard.
For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest;
(The gold of heav'n, who bear the God impress'd;
But when the precious coin is kept unclean,
The sovereign's image is no longer seen.
If they be foul on whom the people trust,
Well may the baser coin contract a rust.

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