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54

WORK IS HOLY.

But, oh! if Fortune fill thy sail
With more than a propitious gale,
Take half thy canvas in.

Cowper. The god that strings the silver bow. and arrows. But he was also the

Apollo was, in Greek mythology, god of the lyre, and the leader of
deemed the punishing god, where- the Muses.
fore he is represented with bow

ON HIMSELF.

A wearied pilgrim I have wandered here,
Twice five-and-twenty, bate 1 me but one year ;
Long I have lasted in this world ; 'tis true,
But yet those years that I have lived, but few.
Who by his gray hairs doth his lustres a tell,
Lives not those years, but he that lives them well :
One man has reached his sixty years, but he
Of all those three-score has not lived half three:
He lives who lives to virtue ; men who cast
Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.

Herrick. 1 Bate, to abate, lessen, subtract. 2 Lustres, periods of five years.

WORK IS HOLY.
Work while life is given,

Faint not although 'tis hard :
Work is the will of heaven,
And peace is the reward

For work is holy !

What though thy lot be hidden,

And proud ones pass thee by!
Feel duty as God-bidden,
Act as beneath His eye-

For work is holy !

Cleave to thy humble place,

Ennoble it with thy zeal, Work with a manful grace, Make fruitless cumberers feel

That work is holy !

Work while life is given,

Nor shrink though hardship scars,
True suffering fits for heaven,
There sin alone debars-

For work is holy !

Angels' ears now listen

Thy earth-spurned plaintive tale,
Angels' eyes shall glisten
While they thy scars unveil-

For work is holy !

They'll know these are the proof

That thou hast striven well,
Nor idly stood aloof,
While other brave ones fell !

For work is holy !

Work, while life is given,

Pine not although 'tis hard, Work is the will of heaven, And peace is the reward.

All work is holy !

Thomas Knox.

CASABIANCA.1
The boy stood on the burning deck,

Whence all but him had fled ;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck

Shone round him o'er the dead.

56

CASABIANCA.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,

As born to rule the storm
A creature of heroic blood,

A proud, though childlike form,

The flames rolled on- - he would not go

Without his father's word ;
That father, faint in death below,

His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud : "Say, father ! say

If yet my task is done!'
He knew not that the chieftain lay

Unconscious of his son.

"Speak, father!' once again he cried,

• If I may yet be gone!'
And but the booming shots replied,

And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waying hair,
And looked from that lone post of death

In still, yet brave despair ;

And shouted but once more aloud :

• My father! must I stay ?' While o'er him fast through sail and shroud

The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,

They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child

Like banners in the sky.

Then came a burst of thunder-sound

The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around

With fragments strewed the sea

With mast and helm and pennon fair,

That well had borne their part;
But the noblest thing that perished there
Was that young faithful heart.

Mrs Hemans.

1 L'Orient, the vessel which Admiral

Brueys himself commanded at the battle of the Nile, was equipped with one hundred and twenty guns. Some time after darkness set in, it was seen to be on fire.

Nelson gave orders that the crew should be saved by English boats. Many were thus rescued, but the commodore Casabianca and his brave little son, only ten years of age, were among the dead.

THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.

King Francis ? was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport; And one day, as his lions fought, sat, looking on, the Court; ? The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by their side, And ’mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for

whom he sighed ; And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning showValour and love and a king above, and the royal beasts 3

below.

Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams-a wind went

with their paws : With wallowing might and stifled roar, they rolled on one

another, Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thunderous

smother; The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the

air;

Said Francis then : ‘Faith! gentlemen, we're better here

than there!'

De Lorge's love o'erheard the king—a beauteous lively dame, With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always

seemed the same.

58

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB'S ARMY.

She thought : "The Count my lover is brave as brave can

beHe surely would do wondrous things to shew his love of

me:

King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine !
I'll drop my glove, to prove his love ; great glory will be

mine !'

She dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked at him

and smiled ; He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild. The leap was quick, return was quick-he has regained the

placeThen threw the glove—but not with love-right in the lady's

face. “In truth, cried Francis, 'rightly done !' and he rose from

where he sat ; ‘No love,' quoth he, but vanity, sets love a task like that!'

Leigh Hunt.

2

1 King Francis, Francis I. of France,

who obtains a niche in English history as the royal compeer of Henry VIII. on the 'Field of the Cloth of Gold.'

Sat, looking on, the Court. The Court

sat looking on. Royal beasts, so styled because the

lion is held to be the king of the beasts.

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB'S1 ARMY.

The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest, when summer is green,
That host, with their banners, at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest, when autumn hath blown,
That host, on the morrow, lay withered and strown.
For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed on the face of the foe as he passed :

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