pronounced at that day. I think you told us you could recollect when the name in this country was generally called Sension.

T.-Heroic verse, it has been said, is composed of five Iambs; or a continued succession of the unaccented and accented syllable: are there any exceptions to be found in the lines read by Master G. ?

tenth, the first

H.-Yes, Sir, the first foot on the and the third foot in the thirteenth, and the first in the fifteenth line, have, on each syllable, a strong accent: and the fourth foot in the first line, and the second in the fifth are nearly similar.

T-Are any of the words contracted to form the regular foot ?

H.-Yes; expatiate, in the fifth, and flowers and promiscuous, in the seventh line.

T-Point out in each line where the poet has indicated the cæsural pause.

I. In the first line, after the fifth syllable; in the 2d-the 5th; the 3d-the 2d; the 4th-the 7th; the 5th-the 4th; the 6th-the 4th; the 7th-the 2d; the 8th-the 3d; the 9th-the 6th; the 10th-the 5th; the 11th-the 4th; the 12th-the 6th; the 13th-the 4th ; the 14th-the 7th ; and the 15th and 16th, the 4th.

T-Every one of the changes noticed in these sixteen lines, adds something to heighten the pleasing effect of the whole. And all can see, that the reading which gives out the sense the best, gives the fullest gratification to the ear: and that mode which resolves the whole into "divisions of sense," as the book has taught us, serves best to secure all which sense and melody demand.

LESSON XVII.

1. THE ORDER OF NATURE.-Pope.

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All are but parts of one stupendous whóle, Whose body nàture is, and Gód the soul; That, changed through áll, and yet in áll the same, Great in the earth, as in the ethereal' fràme, | Warms in the sún, refréshes in the breeze, Glóws in the stárs, and blossoms in the trèes, Lives through all life, extends Spreads undivided, operates Breathes in our soul, infórms As fúll, as perfect, in a háir as hèart; As fúll, as pérfect, in vile mán that mourns, As the rapt sèraph that adóres and burns. To Hím, no high, no

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through all extént,

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lów, no gréat, no small;

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He fills, He bounds, connects, and equals ' àll.
Cease, thén, nor Order Impérfection ' náme,—
Our proper bliss | depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: This kind, this dúe degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heaven bestows on thee.
Submit ;-in this, or any other sphére,

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Secure to be as blést as thou canst beár,-
Safe in the hand of one Disposing Power,
Or in the nátal, or the mòrtal hòur.

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All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;
All Chánce, Diréction, which thou canst not sée;

unspènt ;

our mortal párt,

All Discord, Harmony | not understood;
All pártial' Evil, univèrsal' Gòod :
And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite,
One truth is cléar: whatever ís, is right.

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2. THE DAISY.-John Mason Good. B. 1764, d. 1828.
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Not worlds on worlds | in phalanx déep,
Néed we to prove | a God is hére,
The daísy, fresh from Nature's sléep,
Tells of his name | in lines as clear:

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For who but Hê, who arched the skies,
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And pours the dayspring's living flood,
Wondrous alike in all he triés,
Could raise the daisy's purple bùd?
Mould its green cùp, its wiry stèm,
Its fringed border 'nicely spìn,
And cút the gold-embossed gém,
That, set in silver, gleams within?
And fling it, unrestrained and frèe, |
O'er hill, and dále, and désert sód,
That man whereè'er he walks may sée,
In every step, the stamp of Gòd.

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3. THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL-Pope.
Vital spark of heavenly fláme,
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Quit, O, quit this mortal frame !
Trémbling, hóping, lingering, flying, |
O, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, |
And let me lánguish into life!

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Hark! they whisper; angels sáy,
Sister spírit, come away;

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What is this absorbs me qùite,—
Steáls my senses, shúts my sight, |
Drówns my spirits,-dráws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

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The world recèdes,-it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my éars
With sounds seráphic ring.
Lènd, lénd your wings! I móunt, I fly!
O Gráve whére is thy victory?

O Death whère is thy sting?

4. THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.-Lord Byron. B. 1788, d. 1824.

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The Assyrian came down | like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in púrple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stárs on the séa,
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When the blue wáve rolls nightly on deep Galilée.

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Like the leaves of the forest when summer is gréen,
That host, with their bánners, at sunset were seèn;
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host, on the morrow, lay withered and stròwn.

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For the Angel of Death | spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly | and

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chill,

And their hearts but once heáved, and for ever I grew still!

And there lay the stèed with his nostrils all wide, But through them there rolled not the breath of his príde ;

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And the foam of his gasping lay white on the túrf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider | distorted and pàle, |
With the dew on his brów, and the rúst on his màil ;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alóne, |
The lances unlífted, the trúmpets unblown.

And the widows of Ashúr are loud in their wáil,
And the idols are bróke in the temple of Bàal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmóte by the swórd,
Hath melted like snów | in the glance of the Lòrd !
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5. CONJUGAL FELICITY.-Thomson.

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But happy they! the happiest of their kind!
Whom gentler stars uníte, and in one fáte |
Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend.

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Meántime, a smiling offspring rises round,
And mingles both their gràces. By degrees,
The human blossom blóws; and every day,
Sóft as it rolls along, shows some new charm,
The father's lústre, and the mother's bloom.
Then infant réason grows apáce, and calls
For the kind hánd of an assiduous càre.
Delightful task! to rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot,
the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
To pour
To breathe the enlivening spírit, and to fix

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