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As where heaven its dews shall shed
Of his deeds to tell !
LESSON X C VII.
BIRTHDAY OF WASHINGTON.
Anapestic. Four feet and three. In the first and fourth
stanza, each third and sixth line has an additional short
syllable. 1. Behold the moss'd corner-stone dropp'd from the wall',* And gaze on its daté, but remember its fall",
Ănd hope that some hand may replace it'; Think not of its pride when with pomp it was laid', But weep for the ruin its absence has madé,
And the lapse of the years that efface it. 2. Mourn Washington's death', when ye think of his birth', And far from your thoughts be the lightness of mirth',
And far from your cheek be its smilè.
To hallow his funeral pile.
When youth brushed his cheek with her wing ; Breathe softly, ye wild winds', that circle around' That dearest, and purest, and holiest ground'
Ever pressed by the foot-prints of Spring.
To remind the sad shore of his story';
Where Washington sleeps in his glory.
Their religion and liberty gone';
* This line is faulty in its measure, and is a specimen of the carelessness of many modern poets.
Unsubdu'd by the tempesť, unmov'd by the flood' ;
And to Thee, be the glory alonè.
KING RICHARD'S SOLILOQUY.
Iambis verse, with some irregularities. . I have endeavored to mark this extract from Shakspeare so as to give the true expression. Where there is such a tumult of conflicting passions, however, it is not easy to express the transitions, by any scheme of notation, with perfect accuracy ; but it is hoped that the notation here used will not be materially deficient.
Give me another horsè—bind up my wounds —
The lights burn bluè.-It is now dēad midnight. 5 Cold fearful drops stand on my trēmbling flesh.
What do I fear? myself? there's none else bý' :
Then fly',—What', from myself ? Greāt rēason! Why? 10 Lest I revenge. What'? Myself, on myself?
I love myself. Whereforé ? for any good "
' have done unto myself" ?
For hateful deeds committed by myself. 15 I am a villain': Yet I lie'-I am notk.
Fool', of thyself speak well':-Fool', do not flatter'.
And every talé condemns me for a villain. 20 Perjury', perjury', in the high'st degree;
Mụrder', stern mūrder', in the dir'st degree ;
I shall despair. There is no créature loves mé; 25 And', if I dié, no soul will pity mè :
Nay, wherefore shoûld they'? since that I myself
Came to my tent': and every one did threat 30 To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.
In T In I
Disaster'd stands"; sees other hills ascend',
Of horrid prospecť, shag the trackless plain':
From hill to dalé, still more and more astray'; 10 Impatient flouncing through the drifted heaps',
Stung with the thoughts of homel; the thoughts of homé
What black despair', what horror' fills his heart'! 15 When, for the dusky spot which fancy feign'd',
His tufted cottagé rising through the snow',
While round him night resistless closes fast, 20 And every tempest, howling o'er his head,
Renders the savage wilderness more wild.
A dire descent', beyond the power of frost'! 25 Of faithless bogs'; of precipices hugé,
Smooth'd up with snow! and what is land unknown',
Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils', 30 These check his fearful steps'; and down he sinks'
Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift',
Through the wrung bosom of the dying man', 35 His wifé, his children', and his friends unseen'.
In vain for him the officious wife prepares'
Into the mingling storm', demand their siré 40 With tears of artless innocence. Alas'!
Nor wife nor children more shall he behold',
And', o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold', 45 Lays him along the snows a stiffen'd corsé,
Stretch'd out', and bleaching in the northern blast.
All pay themselves the compliment to think'
On this reversion', takes up ready praisè,-
Time lodged in their own hands', is Folly's' 'vails; 10 Time lodged in Fate's', to wisdom' they consign;
The thing they can't but purposé, they postpone.
All promisē, is poor dilatory man', 15 And that, through every stage. When young', indeed',
In full content we sometimes nobly rest',
At thirty, man suspects himself a fool";
At fifty', chides his infamous delay',
Resolves', and rè-resolves; then dies the same. 25 And why'? because he thinks himself immortal';
All men think all men mortal', but themselves';
Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread':
But their hearts wounded', like the wounded air', 30 Soon close; where passed the shaft no trace is found.
As from the wing no scar the sky retains',
Even with the tender tear which nature sheds 35 O'er those we lové, we drop it' in their gravè.
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
Anapestic. Four feet.
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold';
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
That host with their banners' at sunset were seen':
That host' on the morrow lay withered and strown. 3. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast',
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And their hearts but once heaved', and forever grew still 4. And there lay the steed with his nostril all widé,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pridè;
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 5. And there lay the rider distorted and palé,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail';
The lances uplifted', the trumpet unblown'.
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baalt;
* In the second foot there are three very short syllables and one long. It is at best a faulty foot. + Pronounced by the poet, Bale, but improperly.