LESSON LXIII. THE CONSUMPTIVE. Iambic. Four and three feet alternating with each other. I feel it in the clay-cold hand', The hard and fast-expiring breath`; 3. Nò, never morè—I may not view' The glorious heaven', the ocean's blué, The evening's beauty', once so dear', 4. Nô, never morè—when prisoners wait' And see beyond their dungeon gaté On the fair earth, and sun-bright heaven, 5. No, never morè-and now farewell': And soon above my green-roofed cell' My heart hath found its rest abovè, And O', it is a voice of love^, LESSON LXIV. ESCAPE FROM WINTER. Anapestic. Four feet in each line. 1. O, HAD I the wings of a swallow', I'd fly' Where the roses are blossoming all the year long ; Where the landscape is always a feast to the eyé, And the bills of the warblers are ever in song'; O, then I would fly from the cold and the snow', And hie to the land of the orange and vine^, And carol the winters away in the glow' That rolls o'er the evergreen bowers of the line. 2. Indeed I should gloomily steal o'er the deep', Like the storm-loving petrel, that skims there alone`; I would take me a dear little martin to keep' A sociable flight to the tropical zone'; How cheerily', wing by wing' over the seá, We would fly from the dark clouds of winter away'! And forever our song and our twitter should bé, "To the land where the year is eternally gay." 3. We would nestle awhile in the jessamine bowers', And take up our lodge in the crown of the palm', And livé, like the beé, on its fruits and its flowers', That always are flowing with honey and balm`; And there we would stay' till the winter is o'er', And April is checkered with sunshine and rain'O, then we would fly from the far-distant shoré, Over island and wavé, to our country again. 4. How light we would skim', where the billows are rolled', Through clusters that bend with the cane and the lime^, And break on the beaches in surges of gold', When morning comes forth in her loveliest primè! We would touch for a whilé, as we traversed the ocean', At the islands that echoed to Waller and Moore^, And winnow our wings with an easier motion', Through the breath of the cedar that blows from the shore. 5. And when we had rested our wings', and had fed' On the sweetness that comes from the juniper groves^, By the spirit of home and of infancy led', We would hurry again to the land of our loves`; LESSON LXV. A CASTLE IN THE AIR. Iambic. The third and sixth lines of each stanza have three 2. The rose its blushes need not lend', Give me a cheek the heart obeys^, 3. Features', where pensivè, more than gay',- Eyes', that all soft and tender seem^, 4. A form', though not of finest mould', 5. But still her air', her facé, each charm, With mind her mantling cheek mast glow; 6. Ah! could I such a being find', To her myself', my all I'd give', For her consent to die. 7 Whene'er by anxious gloom oppressed', My aching head I'd lay'; At her sweet smile each care should ceasé, 8. In turn', I'd soften all her` carè; Each thought`, each wish', each feeling' sharè; My voice should soothe each rising sigh' 9. Should gathering clouds our sky deform', 10. Together should our prayers ascend', 11. Thus nothing should our hearts divide^, And, when life's little scene was o'er', LESSON LXVI. EXTRACT FROM COWPER'S CONVERSATION. Iambic. Five feet in a line ;-heroic verse, or epic poetry. 1. SOME fretful tempers wince at every touch'; You always do too littlé, or too much`; You speak with life^, in hopes to entertain",Your elevated voice goes through the brain. 5. You fall at once into a lower` key; That's worse-the dronepipè of a humblebee. 15. Yet still', o'erclouded with a constant frown', LESSON LXVII. A TALE OF POTTED SPRATS. Most mistresses of families have a family receipt-book; and are apt to believe that no receipts are so good as their own. With one of these notable ladies a young housekeeper went to pass a few days, both at her town' and country'-house. The hostess was skilled, not only in culinary loré, but in economy; and was in the habit of setting on her tablé, even when not aloné, whatever her taste or carefulness, had led her to pot', picklè or preservé, for occasional use. Before a meager family dinner was quite over', a dish of Potted Sprats was set before the lady of the housè, whó, expatiating on their excellencé, derived from a family receipt' a century old', prest her still unsatisfied guest to partake of them. The dish was as good as much salt and little spice could make it'; but it had one peculiarity'—it had a strong flavor of garlick', and to garlick the poor guest had a great dislike. But she was a timid woman'; and good breeding', and what she called benevolencé, said, "persevere in swallowing," though her palate said, “no.” "Is it not excellent' ?" said the hostess. "Very`;" faltered out the half-suffocated guest; and |