His rest and food. Nature's most secret steps,
He, like her shadow has pursued, where'er
The red volcano over-canopies

Its fields of snow and pinnacles of ice

With burning smoke; or, where bitumen lakes
On black, bare pointed islets ever beat

With sluggish surge, or where the secret caves
Rugged and dark, winding among the springs
Of fire and poison, inaccessible

To avarice or pride, their starry domes
Of diamond and of gold, expand above
Numberless and immeasurable halls,

Frequent with crystal column and clear shrines
Of pearl, and thrones radiant with chrysolite.
Nor had that scene of ampler majesty
Than gems or gold, the varying of heaven
And the green earth, lost in his heart its claims
To love and wonder: he would linger long
In lonesome vales, making the wild his home,
Until the doves and squirrels would partake
From his innocuous hands, his bloodless food,
Lured by the gentle meaning of his looks;
And the wild antelope, that starts whene'er
The dry leaf rustles in the brake, suspends
Her timid steps, to gaze upon a form
More graceful than her own.

His wandering step,

Obedient to high thoughts, has visited

The awful ruins of the days of old

Athens, and Tyre, and Balbec, and the waste

Where stood Jerusalem, the fallen towers

Of Babylon, the eternal pyramids,

Memphis and Thebes, and whatsoe'er of strange

Sculptured on alabaster obelisk

Or jasper tomb, or mutilated Sphinx

Dark Ethiopia on her desert hills

Conceals. Among the ruined temples there,

Stupendous columns, and wild images

Of more than man-where marble demons watch
The Zodiac's brazen mystery, and dead men
Hang their mute thoughts on the mute walls around,
He lingered, poring on memorials

Of the world's youth; through the long, burning days

Gazed on those speechless shapes; nor, when the moon
Filled the mysterious halls with floating shades
Suspended he that task, but ever gazed

And gazed, till meaning on his vacant mind
Flashed like strong inspiration, and he saw
The thrilling secrets of the birth of time.

LESSON CXLIV.

Quarrel Scene, from Douglas.-REV. JOHN HOME.

GLENALVON AND NORVAL.

Glen. Has Norval seen the troops?

Nor. The setting sun,

With yellow radiance, lightened all the vale;
And, as the warriors moved, each polished helm,
Corslet, or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.
The hill they climbed and, halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, towering, they seemed
An host angelic, clad in burning arms.

Glen. Thou talk'st it well! no leader of our host,
In sounds more lofty speaks of glorious war.
Nor. If I shall e'er acquire a leader's name,

My speech will be less ardent. Novelty,
Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration
Vents itself freely; since, no part, is mine,

Of praise, pertaining to the great in arms.

Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir! Your martial deeds,

Have ranked you with the great: but mark me, Norval: Lord Randolph's favour, now exalts your youth,

Above his veterans of famous service.

Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you :
Give them all honour; seem not to command;
Else, they will scarcely brook your late-sprung pow'r,
Which, nor alliance props, nor birth adorns.

Nor. Sir!-I have been accustomed, all my days,

To hear and speak the plain and simple truth;
And though I have been told, that there are men.
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn;
Yet, in such language I am little skilled.

Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,—
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?

Glen. I did not mean

To gall your pride, which now, I see, is great.
Nor. My pride?

Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper;
Your pride's excessive! yet, for Randolph's sake,
I will not leave you to its rash direction.

If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men,
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn!
Nor. A shepherd's scorn!

Glen. Yes;-if you presume

To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes,
As if you took the measure of their minds,

And said, in secret,

66

You are no match for me,"

What will become of you?

Nor. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?
Glen. Ha!-dost thou threaten me?

Nor. Didst thou not hear?

Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe,

Had not been questioned thus. But such as thou!
Nor. Whom dost thou think me?

Glen. Norval.

Nor. So I am;

And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes

?

Glen. A peasant's son,-a wandering beggar boy;

At best, no more, even if he speak the truth.

Nor. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth?
Glen. Thy truth! Thou'rt all a lie, and false as fiends,
Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.
Nor. If I were chained,―unarmed, or bed-rid old,
Perhaps I might revile; but as I am,

I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval,
Is of a race, who strive not but with deeds!
Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour,
And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,
I'd tell thee-what thou art- -I know thee well.
Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to rule
Ten thousand slaves like thee?

Nor. Villain!- no more ;

Draw, and defend thy life. (they draw their swords.) I did

design,

To have defied thee in another cause;

But Heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.

Now, for my own, and Lady Randolph's wrongs!(They fight.)

Enter LORD RANDOLPH.

Lord Randolph. Hold!-I command you both;The man that stirs, makes me his foe.

Nor. Another voice than thine,

That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph.
Glen. Hear him, my lord, he's wondrous condescending!
Mark the humility of shepherd Norval!

Nor. Now you may scoff in safety.—

(Both sheathe their swords.) Lord Randolph. Speak not thus, Taunting each other; but unfold to me

The cause of quarrel; then I'll judge betwixt you.
Nor. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,
My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
I blush to speak-I will not-cannot speak
The opprobrious words, that I from him have borne.
To the liege lord of my dear native land,

I owe a subject's homage; but, even him,
And his high arbitration I'd reject!
Within my bosom reigns another lord,
Honour-sole judge, and umpire of itself.
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Revoke your favours, and let Norval go

Hence, as he came,-alone-but not dishonour'd.

Lord R. Thus far, I'll mediate with impartial voice:

The ancient foe of Caledonia's land,

Now waves his banners o'er her frighted fields.

Suspend your purpose, till your country's arms,
Repel the bold invader; then decide

The private quarrel.

Glen. I agree to this.

Nor. And I do.

Glen. Norval,

Exit RANDOlph.

Let not our variance mar the social hour,
Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph ;

Nor frowning anger, nor yet wrinkled hate,
Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow,
Nor, let our strife disturb the gentle dame.

Nor. Think not so lightly, Sir, of my resentment;
When we contend again, our strife is mortal.

LESSON CXLV.

The Child of Earth.-CAROLINE NORTON.
FAINTER her slow step falls from day to day,
Death's hand is heavy on her darkening brow,
Yet doth she fondly cling to life, and say--
"I am content to die,-but Oh! not now!—
Not while the blossoms of the joyous spring

Make the warm air such luxury to breathe;
Not while the birds such lays of gladness sing;

Not while bright flow'rs around my footsteps wreathe-
Spare me, great God! lift up my drooping brow;
I am content to die,-but, Oh! not now!"

The spring hath ripen'd into summer time;
The season's viewless boundary is past;
The glorious sun hath reach'd his burning prime;
Oh! must this glimpse of beauty be the last?
"Let me not perish while o'er land and sea,
With silent steps the Lord of light moves on;
Not while the murmur of the mountain bee

Greets my dull ear with music in its tone!
Pale sickness dims my eye and clouds my brow;
I am content to die,-but, Oh! not now!"
Summer is gone; and autumn's soberer hues
Tint the ripe fruits, and gild the waving corn;
The huntsman swift the flying game pursues,
Shouts the halloo! and winds the eager horn.
Spare me awhile, to wander forth and gaze
On the broad meadows, and the quiet stream;
To watch in silence while the evening rays

Slant through the fading trees with ruddy gleam!
Cooler the breezes play around my brow;
I am content to die,but, Oh! not now!"