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ures with a conscious pride; that ocean which hardy industry regards, even when the winds have ruffled its surface, as a field of grateful toil,—what is it to the victim of this oppression when he is brought to its shores, and looks 5 forth upon it for the, first time from beneath chains, and bleeding with stripes? What is it to him, but a widespread prospect of suffering, anguish, and death?

Nor

do the skies smile longer; nor is the air fragrant to him. The sun is cast down from heaven. An inhuman and 10 cursed traffic has cut him off in his manhood, or in his youth, from every enjoyment belonging to his being, and every blessing which his Creator intended for him.

IX. - HOHENLINDEN.

CAMPBELL.

[THOMAS CAMPBELL was born in Glasgow, July 27, 1777, and died in Boulogne, France, June 15, 1844. His first poem, "The Pleasures of Hope," was published in 1799, and was universally read and admired. His "Gertrude of Wyoming " was published in 1809, and was received with equal favor. It contains passages of great descriptive beauty, and the concluding portions are full of pathos; but the story moves languidly, and there is a want of truth in the costume, and of probability in the incidents. His genius is seen to greater advantage in his shorter poems, such as "O'Connor's Child," "Lochiel's Warning," "Hohenlinden," "The Battle of the Baltic," and "Ye Mariners of England." These are matchless poems, - with a ring and power that stir the blood, and at the same time a magic of expression which fastens the words forever to the memory.

No other poet of our times has contributed so much, in proportion to the extent of his writings, to that stock of established quotations which pass from lip to lip, and from pen to pen, without any thought as to their origin. Campbell lived, during the greater part of his life, after early manhood, in London or its neighborhood, and was for some years editor of the "New Monthly Magazine." He wrote in prose with grace and animation. The preliminary essay prefixed to his Specimens of the British Poets (first published in 1819) is an admirable piece of criticism, and is earnestly commended to all who wish to comprehend the wealth of the poetical literature of England. Campbell's dignity of character was hardly equal to his intellectual gifts; and shadows of infirmity sometimes darkened the bright disk of his genius. He was much tried in his domestic relations. His wife, whom he tenderly loved, died many years before him; and of two sons, his whole family, one died in childhood, and the other, who survived his father, was of infirm mind from his birth.

More detailed accounts of Campbell's life and writings may be found in his Life and Letters, by Dr. William Beattie, and in a good biographical sketch

by Mr. Epes Sargent, prefixed to an edition of his poems published by Phillips, Sampson and Co., of Boston, in 1854.

Hohenlinden (two German words meaning high lime-trees) is the name of a village in Bavaria near which the Austrians, under the Archduke John, were defeated by the French and Bavarians, under General Moreau, December 3,

1800.

A snow-storm had fallen in the night before the battle, and had hardly ceased when its first movements began. It is only by virtue of a poetical license that the river Iser (pronounced e'zer) is made a part of the scenery of the contest as, in point of fact, it is several miles distant.]

1 ON Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

2 But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat, at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

3 By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neighed
To join the dreadful revelry.

4 Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
Then rushed the steed to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of Heaven
Far flashed the red artillery.

5 But redder yet that light shall glow
On Linden's hills of stainéd snow,
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

6 'Tis morn, but scarce yon

level sun

Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
Shout in their sulphurous canopy.

7 The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave !
Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,
And charge with all thy chivalry!

8 Few, few shall part where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

X. THE HUSKER'S SONG.

WHITTIER.

[JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER was born in Haverhill, Massachusetts, in 1808. He has written much in prose and verse; and his writings are characterized by earnestness of tone, high moral purpose, and energy of expression. His spirit is that of a sincere and fearless reformer; and his fervent appeals are the true utterances of a brave and loving heart. The themes of his poetry have been drawn, in a great measure, from the history, traditions, manners, and scenery of New England; and he has found the elements of poetical interest among them without doing any violence to truth. He describes natural scenery correctly and beautifully; and a vein of genuine tenderness runs through his writings.]

1

HEAP high the farmer's wintry hoard!

Heap high the golden corn!

No richer gift has Autumn poured

From out her lavish horn.

2 Let other lands, exulting, glean
The apple from the pine,

The orange from its glossy green,
The cluster from the vine:

8 We better love the hardy gift
Our rugged vales bestow,

To cheer us when the storm shall drift
Our harvest-fields with snow.

4

Through vales of grass and meads of flowers,
Our ploughs their furrows made,

While on the hills the sun and showers

Of changeful April played.

5 We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain,
Beneath the sun of May,

And frightened, from our sprouting grain,
The robber-crows away.

6 All through the long, bright days of June, Its leaves grew green and fair,

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10 Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth
Sends up its smoky curls,

Who will not thank the kindly earth,
And bless our farmer girls?

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[SAMUEL JOHNSON was born in Litchfield, England, September 18, 1709, and died December 13, 1784. Besides his great work, the "Dictionary of the English Language," which occupied many laborious years, he wrote " Irene," a tragedy; "London," and "The Vanity of Human Wishes," poems in imitation of Juvenal; "Rasselas," a tale; "The Rambler," a periodical paper ; “ A Tour to the Hebrides;""The Lives of the Poets;" various other biographies; and many reviews, miscellanies, pamphlets, and contributions to periodical literature.

The peculiarities of Dr. Johnson's style are well known. It is artificial, elaborate, delighting in antithesis and in words of Latin origin, and frequently pompous and heavy. Its defects are redeemed by essential vigor of mind, but it is very easily imitated, and when adopted by men of commonplace understanding, it is like Saul's armor upon the limbs of David. His diction grew simpler, as he grew older, and his "Lives of the Poets," his latest work, is also his best. His carefully poised periods, also, had a sensible effect upon the general structure of the language as it has since been written. Dr. Johnson's character was a singular compound of strength and weakness. He was very religious, but bigoted and superstitious. His judgment was generally sound, but he was full of the most unreasonable prejudices. He was charitable and benevolent, but impetuous, and most impatient of contradiction. His conversation was rich in sense and wit, but his manners were intolerable. He was capable of great application, though not habitually industrious. He was of a morbid temperament, and his spirit was often dark

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