Puslapio vaizdai

Give me to scan; through the disclosing deep,
Light my blind way; the mineral strata there;
Thrust, blooming, thence the vegetable world;
O'er that the rising system more complex,
Of animals; and higher still, the mind,
The varied scene of quick-compounded thought,
And where the mixing passions endless shift;
These ever open to my ravished eye;

A search, the flight of time can ne'er exhaust!
But if to that unequal; if the blood,

In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid
That best ambition; under closing shades,
Inglorious, lay me by the lowly brook,

And whisper to my dreams. From thee begin,
Dwell all on thee, with thee conclude my song;
And let me never, never stray from thee!-Thomson.

1. What mean you by the rolling wonders ̧ of heaven?

2. What would he like to learn about these worlds?

3. Who will name to me the three kingdoms of nature?

4. Name them in their order, beginning

with the lowest.

5. Where are the strata or beds of minerals found?

6. Whence is the vegetable world thrust, as the poet beautifully expresses it?

7. What system of works stands above the vegetable kingdom?


8. What is the grandest work of creation here below?

9. Shall the material universe perish? 10. Will the souls of men ever cease to exist?

11. Does the poet mean by Nature here, a power distinct from the Almighty ?

12. Does he not simply mean God as seen in the material universe, and especially as seen in the mind of man?

13. What perfections of God may we learn from the material world?

14. Ah, but where do we learn that He is a God of mercy and justice combined?


"THE history of Napoleon, shows a spirit of self-exaggeration, unrivalled in enlightened ages, and which reminds us of an Oriental king to whom incense had been burnt from his birth as to a deity. This was the chief source of his crimes. He wanted the sentiment of a common nature with his fellow-beings. He had no sympathies with his racc. That feeling of brotherhood, which is developed in truly great souls with peculiar energy, and through which they give up themselves willing victims, joyful sacrifices, to the interests of mankind, was wholly unknown to him. His heart, amidst its wild beatings, never had a throb of disinterested love. The ties which bind man to man he broke asunder. The proper happiness of a man, which consists in the victory of moral energy and social affection over the selfish passions, he cast away for the lonely joy of a despot. With powers, which might have made him a glorious representative and minister of the beneficent Divinity, and with natural sensibilities which might have been exalted into sublime virtues, he chose to separate himself from his kind. to forego their love, esteem, and gratitude, that he might be come their gaze, their fear, their wonder; and for this selfish solitary good, parted with peace and imperishable renown."—Channing.

I LOVE Contemplating-apart
From all his homicidal glory-

The traits that soften to our heart

Napoleon's story.

'Twas when his banners at Boulogne,
Armed in our island every freeman,
His navy chanced to capture one
Poor British seaman.

They suffered him, I know not how,
Unprisoned on the shore to roam;
And aye was bent his youthful brow
On England's home.

His eye, methinks, pursued the flight
Of birds to Britain, half way over,
With envy-they could reach the white
Dear cliffs of Dover.

A stormy midnight watch, he thought, Than this sojourn would have been dearer, If but the storm his vessel brought

To England nearer.

At last when care had banished sleep,
He saw one morning, dreaming, doating,
An empty hogshead from the deep
Come shoreward floating.

He hid it in a cave, and wrought
The live long day, laborious, lurking,
Until he launched a tiny boat,
By mighty working.

Oh dear me! 'twas a thing beyond
Description!-such a wretched wherry,
Perhaps, ne'er ventured on a pond,
Or crossed a ferry.

For ploughing in the salt sea field,
It would have made the boldest shudder;
Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled,-
No sail-no rudder.

From neighbouring woods he interlaced
His sorry skiff with wattled willows;
And thus equipped he would have passed
The foaming billows.

A French guard caught him on the beach,
His little Argo sorely jeering,

Till tidings of him chanced to reach
Napoleon's hearing.

With folded arms Napoleon stood,
Serene alike in peace and danger,
And, in his wonted attitude,
Addressed the stranger.

"Rash youth, that wouldst yon channel pass
On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned,
Thy heart with some sweet English lass
Must be impassioned."

"I have no sweetheart," said the lad;
"But absent years from one another,
Great was the longing that I had
To see my mother."

"And so thou shalt," Napoleon said,
"You've both my favour justly won,
A noble mother must have bred
So brave a son.'

He gave the tar a piece of gold,
And, with a flag of truce, commanded
He should be shipped to England old,
And safely landed.

Our sailor oft could scantly shift
To find a dinner, plain and hearty,
But never changed the coin and gift
Of Buonaparte.

1. In what light did the poet love to contemplate Napoleon?

2. What mean you by his homicidal glory? 3. What freedom was our captive tar allowed?

4. How far to Boulogne from Dover? 5. Where was he constantly turning his eye?

6. Why think you, would he watch the birds flying to England?

7. What do you understand by midnight watch?

8. What saw he floating towards him one morning?

9. What did he make from the large cask?

10. With what did he fasten his sorry skiff together?

11. State what his wretched wherry was 'eficient in?


12. To whom was the story told? 13. What was Napoleon's usual attitude?

14. What did the Emperor think must have caused the sailor to make such a rash attempt?

15. Give the exact words of the sailor's reply?

16. Repeat Buonaparte's reply to the tar. 17. Tell me how the sailor's mother had won Napoleon's favour.

18. How was the sailor's filial affection rewarded?

19. How greatly did the sailor value the coin?

20. For what did God bless this sailor and cause Napoleon to set him at liberty? 21. Who will repeat to me the fifth commandment?

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ONE morning (raw it was and wet,
A foggy day in winter time),

A woman on the road I met,

Not old, though something past her prime;
Majestic in her person, tall and straight;
And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait.

The ancient spirit is not dead;

Old times, thought I, are breathing there;
Proud was I that my country bred

Such strength, a dignity so fair:

She begged an alms, like one in poor estate,
I looked at her again, nor did my pride abate.

When from these lofty thoughts I woke,
"What is it," said I, "that you bear,
Beneath the covert of your cloak,
Protected from this cold damp air?"

She answered, soon as she the question heard, "A simple burthen, Sir, a little singing-bird."

And, thus continuing, she said,
"I had a son, who many a day
Sailed on the seas, but he is dead;

In Denmark he was cast away:

And I have travelled weary miles to see

If aught which he had owned might still remain for me.

The bird and cage they both were his :

"Twas my son's bird; and neat and trim
He kept it: many voyages

This singing-bird had gone with him;

When last he sailed, he left the bird behind;

From bodings, as might be, that hung upon his mind.

He to a fellow-lodger's care

Had left it to be watched and fed,

And pipe its song in safety;-there

I found it when my son was dead;

And now, God help me for my little wit!

I bear it with me, Sir;-he took so much delight in it."

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'Tis pleasant by the cheerful hearth to hear
Of tempests, and the dangers of the deep,
And pause at times, and feel that we are safe;
Then listen to the perilous tale again,
And with an eager and suspended soul,
Woo terror to delight us. But to hear
The roaring of the raging elements-
To know all human skill, all human strength,
Avail not, to look around, and only see
The mountain-wave incumbent, with its weight
Of bursting waters, o'er the reeling bark,—
Ah, me! this is indeed a dreadful thing;
And he who hath endured the horror once
Of such an hour, doth never hear the storm
Howl round his home but he remembers it,
And thinks upon the suffering mariner.

1. What does the poet say is a pleasant thing?

2. What is the difference between the two phrases hear of and hear tempests ? 3. In what sense is perilous used here? 4. What, on the other hand, does the poet say is a dreadful thing indeed?

5. Is there no quarter to which the tempest-tossed mariner may turn for help in his extremity?

6. Where is that quarter.


7. Will a man who has beheld such a scene as is here described so well, readily forget it?

8. When will he especially remember the scene?.

9. Whom will he then remember, and pray for too I should think?

10. Will any of you tell me all the circumstances connected with Christ's stil ling the tempest, and the place in the New Testament where an account ofit is given?

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