"And fast before her father's men, Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen,

My blood would stain the heather.

"His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride,
When they have slain her lover ?”

Out spoke the hardy, Highland wight,
"I'll go, my chief, I'm ready;
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady:

"And, by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry;

So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry."

By this, the storm grew loud арасе, The water-wraith was shrieking; And, in the scowl of heaven, each face Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still, as wilder grew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode arméd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.

"O haste thee, haste !" the lady cries,
"Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."

The boat has left the stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,

When oh! too strong for human hand,

The tempest gathered o'er her.

And still they rowed against the roar
Of waters, fast prevailing;

Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,
His wrath was changed to wailing.

For sore dismayed, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover,

One lovely hand she stretched for aid,
And one was round her lover.

"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
"Across this stormy water,

And I'll forgive your Highland chief;
My daughter! oh, my daughter!"

'T was vain: the loud waves dashed the shore,
Return, or aid preventing:

The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.

Ex. XVIII-TO. THE EVENING WIND.

WM. C. BRYANT.

SPIRIT that breathest through my lattice, thou
That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,
Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow;
Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,
Riding, all day, the wild blue waves till now,
Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,
And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea!

Nor I alone,-
-a thousand bosoms round
Inhale thee in the fullness of delight;
And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound
Livelier, at coming of the wind of night;
And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound,
Lies the vast inland stretched beyond the sight.
Go forth, into the gathering shade; go forth,
God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!

Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest,

Curl the still waters, bright with stars; and rouse
The wide old wood from his majestic rest,
Summoning from the innumerable boughs
The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast;
Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows
The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,
And 'twixt the o'ershadowing branches and the grass.

The faint old man shall lean his silver head

To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
And dry the moistened curls that overspread
His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;
And they who stand about the sick man's bed,
Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,

And softly part his curtains to allow
Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.

Go-but the circle of eternal change,

Which is the life of nature, shall restore,

With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,
Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more:
Sweet odors in the sea-air, sweet and strange,
Shall tell the home-sick mariner of the shore;
And, listening to thy murmur, he shall deem
He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.

Ex. XIX.-THE WORLD OF BEAUTY AROUND US.

HORACE MANN.

A HIGHER and holier world than the world of Ideas, or the world of Beauty, lies around us; and we find ourselves endued with susceptibilities which affiliate us to all its purity and its perfectness. The laws of nature are sublime, but there is a moral sublimity before which the highest intelligences must kneel and adore. The laws by which the winds blow, and the tides of the ocean, like a vast clepsydra, measure, with inimitable exactness, the hours of ever-flowing time; the laws by which the planets roll, and the sun vivifies and paints; the laws which preside over the subtle combinations of chemistry, and the amazing velocities of electricity; the laws of germination and production in the vegetable and animal worlds;-all these, radiant with eternal beauty as they are, and exalted above all the objects of sense, still wane and pale before the Moral Glories that apparel the universe in their celestial light. The heart can put on charms which no beauty of known things, nor imagination of the unknown, can aspire to emulate. Virtue shines in native colors, purer and brighter than pearl, or diamond, or prism, can reflect. Arabian gardens in their bloom can exhale no such sweetness as charity diffuses. Beneficence is godlike, and he who does

most good to his fellow-man is the Master of Masters, and has learned the Art of Arts. Enrich and embellish the universe as you will, it is only a fit temple for the heart that loves truth with a supreme love. Inanimate vastness excites wonder; knowledge kindles admiration; but love enraptures the soul. Scientific truth is marvelous, but moral truth is divine; and whoever breathes its air, and walks by its light, has found the lost paradise. For him a new heaven and a new earth have already been created. His home is the sanctuary of God, the Holy of Holies.

Ex. XX.-THE VULTURE.

ANON.

I'VE been among the mighty Alps, and wandered through their vales,

And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal tales, As round the cotter's blazing hearth, when their daily work was o'er,

They spake of those who disappeared, and ne'er were heard of more.

And there, I, from a shepherd, heard a narrative of fear,
A tale to rend a mortal heart, which mothers might not hear:
The tears were standing in his eyes, his voice was tremulous,
But wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus:

"It is among those barren cliffs the ravenous vulture dwells,
Who never fattens on the prey which from afar he smells,
But, patient, watching hour on hour, upon a lofty rock,
He singles out some truant lamb, a victim from the flock.
"One cloudless Sabbath summer morn, the sun was rising
high,
When, from
my children on the green, I heard a fearful
cry,
As if some awful deed were done, a shriek of grief and pain,
A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again.

"I hurried out to learn the cause, but, overwhelmed with fright,

The children never ceased to shriek, and, from my frenzied sight,

I missed the youngest of my babes, the darling of my care; But something caught my searching eyes, slow sailing through the air.

"Oh! what an awful spectacle to meet a father's eye,His infant made a vulture's prey, with terror to descry; And know, with agonizing heart, and with a maniac rave, That earthly power could not avail, that innocent to save!

"My infant stretched his little hands imploringly to me, And struggled with the ravenous bird, all vainly to get free! At intervals I heard his cries, as loud he shrieked and screamed!

Until, upon the azure sky, a lessening spot he seemed.

"The vulture flapped his sail-like wings, though heavily he flew,

A mote upon the sun's bright face, he seemed unto my view; But once I thought I saw him stoop, as if he would alight,'Twas only a delusive thought, for all had vanished quite.

"All search was vain, and years had passed,—that child was ne'er forgot,

When once a daring hunter climbed unto a lofty spot,
From thence upon a rugged crag the chamois never reached,
He saw an infant's fleshless bones-the elements had bleached!

"I clambered up that rugged cliff,-I could not stay away,I knew they were my infant's bones, thus hastening to decay; A tattered garment yet remained, though torn to many a shred;

The crimson cap he wore that morn, was still upon his head."

That dreary spot is pointed out to travelers passing by, Who often stand, and musing, gaze, nor go without a sigh; And as I journeyed the next morn along my sunny way, The precipice was shown to me whereon the infant lay.

Ex. XXI.-THE PIONEER.

BRAINARD.

FAR away from the hill-side, the lake and the hamlet,
The rock and the brook, and yon meadow so gay;
From the footpath, that winds by the side of the streamlet,
From his hut and the grave of his friend far away;