Fills the brown shade with a religious awe.
And ye, whose bōlder note is heard afar,
Who shake the astonished world, lift high to heaven
The impetuous song, and say from whom you rage.
6. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me cătch it as I muse ǎlong.

Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound;
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, măjestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,
Sound His stupendous' praise, whose greater voice
Or bids you' roar, or bids your' roarings fall.

7. Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him, whose sun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.
Ye forests, bend; ye harvests, wave to Him;
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.

& Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams;
Ye constellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.
Great source of day! best image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
From world to world, the vital ocean round,
On Nature write with every beam His praise.
9. The thunder rolls: be hushed the prostrate world,
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.
Bleat out ǎfresh, ye hills; ye mossy rocks,
Retain the sound; the broad responsive low,
Ye valleys, raise; for the Great Shepherd reigns,
And His unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song
Burst from the groves! and when the restlèss day,

5

Expiring, lays the warbling world ǎsleep,
Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela,' charm
The listening shades, and teach the night His praise.

10. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles,
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn! in swarming cities vast,
Assembled men, to the deep organ join
The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At solemn pauses, through the swelling bass;
And, as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardor rise to heaven.

Or,

if you rather choose the rural' shade,
And find a fane in every sacred grove,
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll.
11. For me, when I forget the darling theme,

Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray
Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams,
Or Winter rises in the blackening east,
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!-
Should fate command' me to the furthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song,-where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on the Atlantic isles,-'tis naught to me;
Since God is ever present, ever felt,

In the void waste as in the city full;

And where He vital breathes, there must be joy.
12. When even at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystic' flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing. I can not go

3

1 Phil`o me' la, from Philomela, daughter of Pandion, king of Athens, who was supposed to have been changed into a nightingale; hence, the nightingale.

* Rural, (rð′ ral).

'Sĕraph, (Eng., plural, ser ́aphs; Heb., pl.. sera phím), an angel of the highest order.

↑ Command, (kom månd).

B

Mys' tic, obscure; involving some hidden meaning.

Where Universal Love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;
From seeming evil still educing good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression. But I lose
Myself in him, in Light ineffable!'
Come then, expressive Silence, muse His praise.

were written in bed.

JAMES THOMSON was born at Ednam, near Kelso, Roxburgh County, Scotland, September 11th, 1700, and died August 27th, 1748. He was the author of the "Seasons," a work which alone would have perpetuated his name. Though born a poet, he seems to have advanced but slowly, and by reiterated efforts, to refinement of taste. The first edition of the "Seasons" differs materially from the second, and the second still more from the third. Every alteration was an improvement in delicacy of thought and language. That the genius of Thom son was purifying and working off its alloys up to the termination of his existence, may be seen from the superiority in style and diction of his last poem, the "Castle of Indolence," to which he brought not only the full nature, but the perfect art of a poet. As a dramatic writer he was unsuccessful. He was in poverty in early life, but through the influence of Lord Lyttleton, he obtained a pension of £100 a year, from the Prince of Wales, and an office which brought him £300 per annum. He was now in comparative opulence, and his residence at Kew-lane, near Richmond, was the scene of social enjoyment and lettered ease. He was friendly, shy and indolent. His noted lines in favor of early rising, commencing

Falsely luxurious, will not man awake,
And springing from the bed of sloth, &c.,

SECTION II.

JAMES THOMSON.

I.

3. NEVER DESPAIR.

THE

HERE is no trait of human character so potential' for weal or woe as firmness. To the business man it is all-important. Before its irresistible energy the most formidable obstacles become as cobweb barriers in its path.' Difficulties, the terror of which causes the pampered sons of luxury to shrink

1 In ef fa ble, not capable of being expressed in words; untold; unspeakable.

powerful; mighty; forcible.
Path, (påth).

'Păm' pered, fed or gratified in. * Potential, (pò tên' shal), efficient; ordinately or unduly.

back with dismay, provoke from the man of lofty determination only a smile. The whole history of our race-all nature, indeed -teems with examples to show what wonders may be accomplished by resolute perseverance and patient toil.

2. It is related of Tamerlane,' the celebrated warrior, the terror of whose arms spread through all the Eastern nations, and whom victory attended at almost ěvèry step, that he once learned from an insect a lesson of perseverance, which had a striking effect on his future character and success.

3. When closely pursued by his enemies-as a contemporary' tells the anecdote-he took refuge in some old ruins, where, left to his solitary musings, he espied an ant tugging and striving to carry a single grain of corn. His unavailing efforts were repeated sixty-nine times, and at each several time, so soon as he reached a certain point of projection, he fell back with his burden, unable to surmount it; but the seventieth time he bōre ǎway his spoil in triumph, and left the wondering hero reänimated and exulting in the hope of future victory.

5. How pregnant' the lesson this incident conveys! How many thousand instances there are in which inglorious defeat ends the career of the timid and desponding, when the same tenacity of purpose would crown it with triumphant success! Resolution is almost omnipotent. Sheridan' was at first timid, and obliged to sit down in the midst of a speech. Convinced of, and mortified at, the cause of his failure, he said one day to a friend, "It is in me, and it shall come out.'

""

5. From that moment he rose, and shōne, and triumphed in a consummate' eloquence. Here was true moral courage. And it was well observed by a heathen moralist, that it is not because things are difficult that we dare not undertake them.

1 Tăm' er lāne, called also Timour the Tartar, was born 1335. He became sovereign of Tartary, and subdued Persia, India and Syria. With an army of 200,000 men, in a battle fought at Angora, on the 20th of July, 1402, he defeated the Turkish army, composed of 300,000 men, and made their emperor, Bajazet, prisoner. He was on the point of invading China, when he was seized with a violent

fever, and died soon after taking the field, 18th February, 1405.

'Con těm pora ry, living, acting, or happening at the same time.

'Pregnant, full of consequences. 'Richard Brinsley Sheridan, see Biographical Sketch, p. 126.

' Con sum' mate, carried to the utmost extent or degree; complete; perfect.

6

Dare, (dår), see Note 2, p. 22.

6. Be, then, bold in spirit. Indulge no doubts-they are traitors. In the practical pursuit of our high aim, let us never lose sight of it in the slightest instance: for it is more by a disregard of small things, than by open and flagrant offenses, that men come short of excellence. There is always a right and a wrong; and if you ever doubt, be sure you take not the wrong. Observe this rule, and every experience will be to you a means of advancement.

II.

4. NOW.

HE venerable Past-is past;

T

"Tis dark, and shines not in the ray : 'Twas good, no doubt-'tis gone at last— There dawns another day.

Why should we sit where ivies creep,
And shroud ourselves in charnels deep?
Or the world's yesterdays deplore,
Mid crumbling ruins mossy hōar?

2. Why should we see with dead men's eyes,
Looking at WAS from morn to night,
When the beauteous Now, the divine To BE,
Woo with their charms our living sight?
Why should we hear but echoes dull,
When the world of sound, so beautiful,

Will give us music of our own?
Why in the darkness should we grōpe,
When the sun, in heaven's resplendent cope,
Shines as bright as e'er it shōne?

3. Abraham'saw no brighter stars

Than those which burn for thee and me.
When Homer' heard the lark's sweet song'
Or night-bird's lovelier melody,

1

'A' bra ham, the patriarch of the Jews, born and died more than two thousand years B. C.

'Hō' mer, the most distinguished of poets, called the "Father of Song."

He is supposed to have been an Asi atic Greek, though his birth-place, and the period in which he lived, are not known.

3

Song, see Note 1, p. 23.