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النشر الإلكتروني

Cannot forget Thee here; where Thou hast built,
For Thy own glory, in the wilderness.

Me didst Thou constitute a priest of thine,
In such a temple as we now behold

5 Reared for Thy presence; therefore am I bound
To worship, here, and everywhere, as one
Not doomed to ignorance, though forced to tread,
From childhood up, the ways of poverty;
From unreflecting ignorance preserved,
10 And from debasement rescued.-By Thy grace
The particle divine remained unquenched;
And, 'mid the wild weeds of a rugged soil,
Thy bounty caused to flourish deathless flowers
From Paradise transplanted. Wintry age
15 Impends; the frost will gather round my heart;
And, if they wither, I am worse than dead.

Come labor, when the worn-out frame requires
Perpetual sabbath; come disease and want,
And sad exclusion through decay of sense;
20 But leave me unabated trust in Thee;
And let Thy favor, to the end of life,
Inspire me with ability to seek

Repose and hope among eternal things,Father of heaven and earth! and I am rich, 25 And will possess my portion in content.

And what are things eternal?-Powers depart,
Possessions vanish, and opinions change,
And passions hold a fluctuating seat:
But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken,
30 And subject neither to eclipse nor wane,
Duty exists;-immutably survive,

For our support, the measures and the forms,
Which an abstract Intelligence supplies;

Whose kingdom is where time and space are not: 35 Of other converse, which mind, soul, and heart, Do, with united urgency, require,

What more, that may not perish? Thou, dread Source,
Prime, self-existing Cause and End of all,
That, in the scale of being, fill their place,

40 Above our human region, or below,

Set and sustained;-Thou,-who didst wrap the cloud
Of infancy around us, that Thyself,
Therein, with our simplicity awhile

Might'st hold, on earth, communion undisturbed,-
Who from the anarchy of dreaming sleep,
Or from its death-like void, with punctual care,
And touch as gentle as the morning light,
5 Restor'st us, daily, to the powers of sense,
And reason's steadfast rule,-Thou, Thou alone
Art everlasting.

This universe shall pass away,-a frame Glorious! because the shadow of Thy might,10. A step, or link, for intercourse with Thee. Ah! if the time must come, in which my feet No more shall stray where meditation leads, By flowing stream, through wood, or craggy wild, Loved haunts like these, the unimprisoned mind 15 May yet have scope to range among her own, Her thoughts, her images, her high desires.

If the dear faculty of sight should fail,
Still it may be allowed me to remember
What visionary powers of eye and soul,
20 In youth, were mine; when, stationed on the top
Of some huge hill, expectant, I beheld

The sun rise up, from distant climes returned, Darkness to chase, and sleep, and bring the day, His bounteous gift! or saw him, towards the deep 25 Sink, with a retinue of flaming clouds

Attended! Then my spirit was entranced
With joy exalted to beatitude;

The measure of my soul was filled with bliss, And holiest love; as earth, sea, air, with light, 30 With pomp, with glory, with magnificence!


[pu.t.] 'Tis sweet, to remember! I would not forego


[This piece is designed as an exercise in 'smooth' and 'pure quality' of voice. The suavity of tone, which belongs to gentle and tender emotion, should prevail in the reading of this beautiful composition. A full, clear, but softened note, should be heard, throughout.]

The charm which the Past o'er the Present can throw
For all the gay visions that Fancy may weave
In her web of illusion, that shines to deceive.
We know not the future,-the past we have felt ;-
Its cherished enjoyments the bosom can melt;







Its raptures anew o'er our pulses may roll,
When thoughts of the morrow fall cold on the soul.
'Tis sweet, to remember! When storms are abroad,
We see in the rainbow, the promise of God:
The day may be darkened, but far in the West,
In vermilion and gold, sinks the sun to his rest;
With smiles like the morning he passeth away:
Thus the beams of delight on the spirit can play,
When in calm reminiscence we gather the flowers,
Which Love scattered round us in happier hours.
'Tis sweet, to remember! When friends are unkind
When their coldness and carelessness shadow the mind,
Then, to draw back the veil which envelopes a land,
Where delectable prospects in beauty expand;
To smell the green fields, the fresh waters to hear,
Whose once fairy music enchanted the ear;
To drink in the smiles that delighted us then,-
To list the fond voices of childhood again,

Oh! this the sad heart, like a reed that is bruised,
Binds up, when the banquet of hope is refused.
'Tis sweet, to remember! And naught can destroy
The balm-breathing comfort, the glory, the joy,
Which spring from that fountain, to gladden our way,
When the changeful and faithless desert or betray.
I would not forget!-though my thoughts should be

O'er the ocean of life, I look back from my bark,
And see the fair Eden, where once I was blest,
A type and a promise of heavenly rest.

[oro. q.] Ay, tear her tatter'd ensign down!



[This piece is designed as an exercise for cultivating the 'orotund quality', or full, round, and forcible voice, which belongs to energetic and declamatory expression. A loud, clear, ringing tone, should prevail, throughout the reading or recitation of such pieces.]

Long has it waved on high;

And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;

Beneath it rung the battle shout,

And burst the cannon's roar;—






The meteor of the ocean air

Shall sweep the clouds no more!

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
Where knelt the vanquish'd foe,
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood,
And waves were white below,-
No more shall feel the victor's tread,
Or know the conquer'd knee;
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea!

Oh! better that her shatter'd hulk
Should sink beneath the wave;
Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
And there should be her grave:
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail;
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale!


[The piece which follows, is intended for practice in 'soft' and subdued 'force'. The voice, in this form of utterance, is meant to be reduced below its average energy, not by mere slackness, or absence of force, but by an intentional reduction of volume, so as to touch the car delicately, yet vividly, as is naturally done in the expression of an affecting sentiment.]


That silent moon, that silent moon,

Careering now through cloudless sky,
Oh! who shall tell what varied scenes

Have pass'd beneath her placid eye,
Since first, to light this wayward earth,
She walk'd in tranquil beauty forth?
How oft has guilt's unhallow'd hand,

And superstition's senseless rite,
And loud, licentious revelry,

Profaned her pure and holy light!
Small sympathy is hers, I ween,
With sights like these, that virgin queen.

But dear to her, in summer eve,

By rippling wave, or tufted grove,

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When hand in hand is purely clasp'd,
And heart meets heart in holy love,
To smile, in quiet loneliness,
And hear each whisper'd vow, and bless.
Dispersed along the world's wide way,

When friends are far, and fond ones rove,
How powerful she to wake the thought,

And start the tear for those we love,
Who watch, with us at night's pale noon,
And gaze upon that silent moon!

How powerful, too, to hearts that mourn,
The magic of that moonlight sky,
To bring again the vanish'd scenes,

The happy eves of days gone by;
Again to bring, 'inid bursting tears,
The loved, the lost, of other years!

And oft she looks, that silent moon,

On lonely eyes, that wake to weep,
In dungeon dark, or sacred cell,

Or couch, whence pain has banish'd sleep:
Oh! softly beams that gentle eye,
On those who mourn, and those who die.


But beam on whomsoe'er she will,

And fall where'er her splendor may,
There's pureness in her chasten'd light,

There's comfort in her tranquil ray: What power is hers to soothe the heart,What power the trembling tear to start!

The dewy morn let others love,

Or bask them in the noontide ray;
There's not an hour but has its charm,
From dawning light to dying day :-
But oh! be mine a fairer boon,-
That silent moon,
that silent moon!

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