Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

From the neighbouring school

Come the boys,

With more than their wonted noise

And commotion;

And down the wet streets

Sail their mimic fleets,
Till the treacherous pool
Engulfs them in its whirling
And turbulent ocean.

In the country on every side,

Where far and wide,

Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,

To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain!

In the furrowed land

The toilsome and patient oxen stand;
Lifting the yoke-encumbered head,
With their dilated nostrils spread,
They silently inhale

The clover-scented gale,

And the vapours that arise

From the well-watered and smoking soil.

For this rest in the furrow after toil

Their large and lustrous eyes

Seem to thank the Lord,

More than man's spoken word.

Near at hand,

From under the sheltering trees,

The farmer sees

His pastures and his fields of grain,

As they bend their tops

To the numberless beating drops

Of the incessant rain.

He counts it as no sin

That he sees therein

Only his own thrift and gain.-Longfellow.

LESS. XCVII.—EARTH'S VOICES.

The leaf-tongues of the forest, and the flower-lips of the sod,

The birds that hymn their raptures in the ear of God, The summer-wind that bringeth music o'er land and

sea,

Have each a voice that singeth this sweet song of songs

to me:

"This world is full of beauty, as angel-worlds above, And if we did our duty it might be full of love."

Night's starry tendernesses dower with glory evermore, Morn's budding-bright melodious hour comes sweetly as of yore;

But there be million hearts accurst, where no sweet sunbeams shine,

And there be million hearts athirst for love's immortal

wine.

This world is full of beauty, as angel-worlds above,

And if we did our duty it might be full of love.

Gerald Massey.

LESS. XCVIII.-LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

The breaking waves dashed high

On a stern and rock-bound coast,

And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed,

LESS. XCVIII.] LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark

On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true hearted, came,
Not with the roll of stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;

Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear

They shook the depths of the desert's gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard and the sea!

And the sounding aisles of the dim wood rang
To the anthems of the free!

The ocean-eagle soared

From his nest by the white waves' foam,
And the rocking pines of the forest roared,
This was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim band;

Why had they come to wither there,

Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;

There was manhood's brow, serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?

T

205

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's pure shrine !
Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod!

They have left unstained what there they found—
Freedom to worship God.-Mrs. Hemans.

LESS. XCIX.-A BIRD'S NEST.

It wins my admiration

To view the structure of that little work

A bird's nest. Mark it well, within, without;
No tool had he that wrought; no knife to cut;
No nail to fix; no bodkin to insert;

No glue to join ;-his little beak was all;
And yet how neatly finished! What nice hand,
With every implement and means of art,
And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot,
Could make me such another?-Hurdis.

LESS. C.-MORNING HYMN.

Oh! timely happy, timely wise,
Hearts that with rising morn arise!
Eyes that the beam celestial view,
Which evermore makes all things new!

New every morning is the love

Our wakening and uprising prove;

Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
Restored to life, and power, and thought.

New mercies, each returning day,
Hover around us while we pray;

New perils past, new sins forgiven,

New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven.

If on our daily course our mind
Be set to hallow all we find,

New treasures still, of countless price,
God will provide for sacrifice.

The trivial round, the common task,
Will furnish all we ought to ask;
Room to deny ourselves; a road
To bring us, daily, nearer God.

Seek we no more: content with these,
Let present Rapture, Comfort, Ease,
As Heaven shall bid them, come and go,
The secret this of Rest below.

Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love,
Fit us for perfect rest above;
And help us, this and every day,
To live more nearly as we pray.—Keble.

LESS. CI.-EVENING HYMN.

'Tis gone, that bright and orbéd blaze,
Fast fading from our wistful gaze;
Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight
The last faint pulse of quivering light.

In darkness and in weariness

The traveller on his way must press
No gleam to watch on tree or tower,
Whiling away the lonesome hour.

Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near:
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes.

« ElőzőTovább »