Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Hail to the morn, when first they stood

On Bunker's height,
And, fearless, stemmed th' invading flood,
And wrote our dearest rights in blood,
And mowed. in ranks the hireling brood,

In desperate fight!
O, 'twas a proud, exulting day;
For even our fallen fortunes lay

In light.

There is no other land like thee,

No dearer shore;
Thou art the shelter of the free;
The home, the port of Liberty,
Thou hast been, and shalt ever be,

Till time is o'er.
Ere I forget to think upon
My land, shall mother curse the son

She bore.

Thou art the firm, unshaken rock

On which we rest; And, rising from thy hardy stock, Thy sons the tyrant's frown shall mock, And Slavery's galling chains unlock,

And free th' oppressed; All, who the wreath of Freedom twine, Beneath the shadow of their vine

Are blest.

We love thy rude and rocky shore,

And here we stand
Let foreign navies hasten o’er,
And on our heads their fury pour,
And peal their cannon's loudest roar,

And storm our land;

They still shall find our lives are given
To die for home, and leant on Heaven

Our hand.

[blocks in formation]

Science, against, launch, launch’d, tent, tenth, tenths, tents,

wants, want'st, means.

The Village Blacksmith.

LONGFELLOW.

UNDER a spreading chestnut-tree

The village smithy stands;.
The smith, a mighty man is he,

With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long ;

His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat;
He earns whate'er he can;
And looks the whole world in the face,

For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,

You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,

With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell
When the evening sun is low.

M

And children, coming home from school,

Look in at the open door ;
They love to see the flaming forge,

And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly

Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,

And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach;

IIe hears his daughter's voice
Singing in the village choir,

And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,

Singing in Paradise !
He needs must think of her once more,

Ilow in the grave she lies ;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes

A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling - rejoicing - sorrowing

Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin

Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done,

Has earned a night's repose..

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,

For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life

Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding an vil shaped

Each burning deed and thought.

LESSON LXI.

EXERCISES

IN ARTICULATION. Play, people, peopld, peopl'dst, scruples, scruplst, open,

open'd, opens, praise, droops, droop'st, precept, precepts, accept'st, depth, depths.

[blocks in formation]

What the Heart of the young Man said to the Psalmist.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal ;
“Dust thou art, to dust returnest,”

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow

Finds us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ;

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !

Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present !

Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

LESSON LXII.

EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION.

Herb, verb, curb, curb'd, curb'dst, herbs, verbs, curbs,

curb'st, bard, bards, rewards, reward'st, surf, scarfs, iceberg, icebergs, barge, urge, urg'd.

The Cataract and the Streamlet ; or, Power and

Gentleness. BERNARD BARTON.

NOBLE the mountain stream,
Bursting in grandeur from its vantage ground:

Glory is in its gleam
Of brightness - thunder in its deafening sound :

« VorigeDoorgaan »