And with the black and heavy plumes scarce trembling on his head, There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair, old Rudiger sat dead. LESSON CLI. THE DIRGE OF THE CONQUEROR. A Dirge is a Lamentation, usually sung over the dead. The following lines are a fine specimen of Irony, for, while they pretend to sing the glorious deeds of the departed warrior, they most effectually condemn war and all its works, as shown in famine and bloodshed, in the corruption of morals, the blasting of the fields, and the death of children, the hope and stay of their parents. The lines that are repeated, are called the Burden of a Song, and in the following case they must be spoken seriously, and yet in such a tone of voice as will show that they are Ironical. The author is William KenneDY, of England. The flag of battle on its staff hangs drooping- The war-horse pines; and, o'er his sabre stooping, The chief who swept the ruddy tide of glory, The conqueror! now only lives in story. Mourn, nations! mourn! The godlike man's no more, Who fired your roofs, and quenched your hearths Skies, baleful blue-harvests of hateful yellow- Where waved his plume, the grape forgot to mellow, But Mourn, nations! mourn! The godlike man's no more, Who fired your roofs, and quenched your hearths with gore! But of our country's virtue! thou art blighted, Land wafts to land concord's ignoble greeting. Mourn, nations! mourn! The godlike man's no more, Who fired your roofs, and quenched your hearths with gore! The apple-tree is on the rampart growing; On the stern battlement the wall-flower blooms; The stream that rolled blood-red, is faintly glowing With summer's rose, which its green banks perfumes; The holm that girt the brow of the undaunted, more, Who fired your roofs, and quenched your hearths with gore! Hopes of the young and strong! ye're all departed— Mourn, nations! mourn! The godlike man's no Who fired your roofs, and quenched your hearths with gore! LESSON CLII. THE JEWISH BATTLE SONG. The following lines are by GEORGE LUNT, of Newburyport. The scripture allusions are a good study for the pupil, but need not, it is hoped, be explained here. The Romans are the enemy, and they destroyed the city and scattered the Jews among the Gentiles. Ho! Princes of Jacob! the strength and the stay On the spoiler go down in the might of the Lord! She lay sleeping in beauty, more fair than the moon, Their legions and cohorts are fair to behold, Will they laugh at the hind they have struck to the earth, When the bold stag of Naphtali bursts on their mirth? Will they dare to deride and insult, when in wrath The lion of Judah glares wild in their path? O, say, will they mock us, when down on the plain The hoofs of our steeds thunder over their slain? They come with their plumes tossing haughty and free, And white as the crest of the old hoary sea; Yet they float not so fierce as the wild lion's mane, To whose lair ye have tracked him, whose whelps ye have slain; But, dark mountain-archer! your sinews to-day And the tribes are all gathering; the valleys ring out When they perilled their lives to the death in the fray; Like Sisera's, rolls the foe's chariot-wheel, LESSON CLIII. THERMOPYLÆ. The following spirited sketch of the battle between Leonidas with his three hundred Spartans, and the countless host of Xerxes, in the narrow strait or pass of Thermopyla, was written by BISHOP GEORGE W. DOANE, of New Jersey. 'Twas an hour of fearful issues, When the bold three hundred stood, For their love of holy freedom, By that old Thessalian flood; When lifting high each sword of flame, And swore, beside those dashing waves, And, O! that oath was nobly kept: Till, torrent-like, the stream of blood O, yes, that oath was nobly kept, LESSON CLIV. AMBITION. The following vivid picture of the workings and reward of ambition, is drawn by our countryman, N. P. WILLIS. Poetry without rhyme is generally called Blank-verse, but the pupil will see that the poetry consists not in the rhyme but in the selection of words, the most harmonious location of them, and the proper measurement. It may be well to inform the pupil, also, that a verse is properly a line of poetry and not a stanza. The line is called a verse or a turning, because when the end is reached we turn to begin again. The following verses, then, contain five Iambics, or feet of two syllables, the first short and the second long. A verse of five feet is called a Pentameter; one of six feet is called a Hexameter. What is Ambition? "Tis a glorious cheat! |