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He bowed amongst them like a tree,
Swift to the breach his comrades fly :
Thus Switzerland again was free ;
ON MYSELF. - Cowley.
This only grant me, that my means may lie
Some honor I would have,
grave. Acquaintance I would have, but when 't depends Not on the number, but the choice, of friends.
Books should, not business, entertain the light,
My house a cottage more
My garden painted o'er With Nature's hand, not Art's; and pleasures yield, Horace might envy in his Sabine field.
Thus would I double my life's fading space ;
And in this true delight,
But boldly say, each night,
THE GRASSHOPPER. — Tennyson.
Voice of the summer wind,
Carol clearly, chirrup sweet.
* Among the many beautiful fables of the ancient Greeks was this one. The beauty of Tithonus, son of a king of Troy, gained for him the affection of one of the goddesses. He begged her, as a favor, to make him immortal, and his request was granted. But, as he had forgotten to ask to retain the vigor and beauty of youth, he soon became infirm and decrepid ; and, as life became insup portable to him, he begged the goddess to remove him from the world. As he could not die, she changed him into a grasshopper.
And as light as air;
Soon thy joy is over.
And slumbers in the clover,
In thy heat of summer pride
That brush thee with their silken tresses ?
In and out the emerald glooms;
Lighting on the golden blooms ?.
* Without fear and without reproach; an epithet applied to Bayard, a French knight distinguished for his courage and his integrity. He died in 1524.
A GRECIAN ANECDOTE.
A GRECIAN ANECDOTE. – Milnes.
How Sparta thirsted after orient gold,
And bartered faith for wealth she dared not use, Is as severe a tale as e'er was told
The pride of man to conquer and confuse.
Therefore forget not what that nature was,
That once availed the base desire to foil, When sought the Ionian Aristagoras
To mingle Sparta in his distant broil.
How thick the perils of that far emprise,
How dim the vista cunningly displayed,
And bade the stranger court Athenian aid.
To people as to prince, appeal was vain,
Vain the dark menace, vain the shadowy gibe, But the wise envoy would not bend again
His homeward steps till failed the wonted bribe.
Nor ever thought that proffer to withhold
Ten— twenty — forty talents rose the bait;
Strange feeling glistened in those infant eyes, That gazed attentive on the grave debate,
And seemed to search its ineaning in surprise.
Yet fifty now had well secured the prey,
Had not a little hand tight clasped his arm, And a quick spirit uttered, “Come away, Father, that man is there to do
Not unaccepted such pure omen came;
That gentle voice the present God revealed, And back the Ionian chief returned in shame,
Checked by the virtue of that simple shield.
THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. — Bryant.
THE melancholy days have come, the saddest of the
year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows
brown and sear. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the withered
leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's
tread. The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs
the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow, through all the
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that
lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sister
hood ? Alas! they all are in their graves; the gentle race of
flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good
of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold No
vember rain Calls not, from out the gloomy earth, the lovely ones