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WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

on the table by him.

Delight and liberty, the simple creed

Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,

I only have relinquished one delight With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his To live beneath your more habitual sway. breast,

I love the brooks which down their chauuels fret, Not for these I raise

Even more than when I tripped lightly as they ; The song of thanks and praise ;

The innocent brightness of a new-born day But for those obstinate questionings

Is lovely yet; Of sense and outward things,

The clouds that gather round the setting sun Fallings from us, vanishings,

Do take a sober coloring from an eye Blank misgivings of a creature

That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Moving about in worlds not realized,

Another race hath been, and other palms are won. High instincts, before which our mortal nature Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised, - Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, But for those first affections,

To me the meanest flower that blows can give Those shadowy recollections,

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeiug,

Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being

SOLILOQUY: ON IMMORTALITY. Of the eternal silence : truths that wake,

SCENE. - CATO sitting in a thoughtful Aasture, with Plato's Mart To perish never,

on the Immortality of the Soul in his hand, and a drawn saari Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor, Nor man nor boy,

It must be so. Plato, thou reasonest well! Nor all that is at enmity with joy,

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, Can utterly abolish or destroy !

This longing after immortality ? Hence in a season of calm weather,

Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Though inland far we be,

Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? Which brought us hither,

'T is the divinity that stirs within us; Can in a moment travel thither,

'T is Heaven itself, that points out a hereafter, And see the children sport upon the shore, And intimates eternity to man. And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. Eternity! — thou pleasing, dreadful thought!

Through what variety of untried being, Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!

X.

Through what new scenes and changes must we And let the young lambs bound

pass ! As to the tabor's sound !

The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me; We in thought will join your throng,

But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.

Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day

(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud
Feel the gladness of the May !

Through all her works), he must delight in virtue; What though the radiance which was once so And that which he delights in must be happy. bright

But when? or where? This world was made for Be now forever taken from my sight,

Cæsar. Though nothing can bring back the hour I'm weary of conjectures, – this must end them. Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower,

(Laying his lund on his scord. We will grieve not, rather find

Thus am I doubly armed : my death and life, Strength in what remains behind ;

My bane and antidote, are both before me.
In the primal sympathy

This in a moment brings me to an end ;
Which, having been, must ever be ;

But this informs me I shall never die.
In the soothing thoughts that spring

The soul, secured in her existence, smiles
Out of human suffering ;

At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
In the faith that looks through death,

The stars shall fade away, the sun himself In years that bring the philosophic mind.

Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years ;
But thou shalt flourish in iinmortal youth,

Unhurt amid the war of elements,
And () ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves, The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds !
Forebode not any severing of our loves.

JOSEPH ADDISON.

XI.

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HEROISM.

Its proper power to hurt each creature feels: So nigh is grandeur to our dust,

Bulls aim their horns, and asses kick their heels. So near is God to man, When Duty whispers low, Thou must,

Here Wisdom calls, “Seek virtue first, be bold; The youth replies, I can.

As gold to silver, virtue is to gold.”

Let lands and houses have what lords they will, THE SEA.

Let us be fixed and our own masters still.

BEHOLD the Sea, The opaline, the plentiful and strong,

'Tis the first virtue vices to abhor, Yet beautiful as is the rose in June,

And the first wisdom to be fool no more.
Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July :
Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds,

Long as to him who works for debt, the day. Purger of earth, and medicine of men ;

Not to go back is somewhat to advance,
Creating a sweet climate by my breath,
Washing out harms and griefs from memory,

And men must walk, at least, before they dance. And, in my mathematic ebb and flow,

True, conscious honor is to feel no sin ; Giving a hint of that which changes not. He's armed without that's innocent within. Rich are the sea-gods:— who gives gifts but they? They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: For virtue's self may too much zeal be had, They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. The worst of madmen is a saint run mad. For every wave is wealth to Dædalus, Wealth to the cunning artist who can work

If wealth alone can make and keep us blest, This matchless strength. Where shall he find, Still, still be getting ; never, never rest. O waves !

That God of nature who within us still A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift ?

Inclines our actions, not constrains our will,
I with my hammer pounding evermore
The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust,

It is not poetry, but prose run mad.
Strewing my bed, and, in another age,
Rebuild a continent of better men.

Pretty in amber to observe the forms
Then I unbar the doors : my paths lead out Of hair, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms :
The exodus of nations : 1 disperse

The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, Men to all shores that front the hoary main. But wonder how the mischief they got there !

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. Know then this truth, enough for man to know,

Virtue alone is happiness below.
Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it flow,
That tends to make one honest man my foe. Happier as kinder in whate'er degree,

And height of bliss but height of charity.
Who shames a scribbler ? Break one cobweb
through,

If then to all men happiness was meant
He spins the slight, self-pleasing thread anew; God in externals could not place content.
Destroy his fib or sophistry, in vain,
The creature's at his dirty work again,

Order is Heaven's first law, and, this confest, Throned in the centre of his thin designs,

Some are, and must be, greater than the rest. Proud of a vast extent of flimsy lines.

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, He who, still wanting, though he lives on theft, Lie in three words, — health, peace, and compe.

tence. Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left.

But health consists with temperance alone, What future bliss He gives thee not to know, And peace, O Virtue ! peace is all thine own. But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.

Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, All nature is but art, unknown to thee, And these be happy called, unhappy those ; All chance, direction which thou canst not see. But Heaven's just balance equal will appear,

When those are placed in hope, and these in fear. 'Tis education forms the common mind; Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined. “Butsometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed":

“What then, is the reward of virtue, - bread ? Manners with fortunes, humors turn with climes, " That vice may merit, 't is the price of toil, Tenets with books, and principles with times.

The knave deserves it when he tills the soil." Who shall decide when doctors disagree ?

What nothing earthly gives or can destroy, And then mistook reverse of wrong for right.

The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy. That secret rare between the extremes to move,

Honor and shame from no condition rise ; Of mad good-nature and of mean self-love.

Act well your part, there all the honor lies. Ye little stars, hide your diminished rays.

Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,

Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
Who builds a church to God, and not to fame,
Will never mark the marble with his name.

Who noble ends by noble means obtains,

Or, failing, smiles in exile or in chains, 'T is strange the music should his cares employ Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy.

Like Socrates, that man is great indeed. Something there is more needful than expense, What's fame? A fancied life in others' breath. And something previous e'en to taste, - 't is sense.

One self-approving hour whole years outweighs In all let Nature never be forgot,

Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas. But treat the goddess like a molest fair, Not over-dress nor leave her wholly bare ; As heaven's blest beam turns vinegar more sour. Let not each beauty everywhere be spied, Where half the skill is decently to hide.

Lust through some certain strainers well refined

Is gentle love, and charms all womankind. Light quirks of music, broken and uneven, Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven. Vice is a monster of such hideous mien

That to be hated needs but to be seen; 'Tis use alone that sanctifies expense,

Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
And splendor borrows all her rays from sense.

We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
To rest the cushion and soft dean invite,
Who never mentions hell to ears polite.

Behold the child, by Nature's kinilly law,

Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw ; And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, All end, - in love of God and love of man. A little louder, but as empty quite.

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Au angel face :

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runng In radiant nippled Bothad the graceful thwat And dimpled shoulders; round the

rosy of the sweet mouth a smile seemed wandering ever; While in the depths of azure fire that gleamed

Beneath the drooping lashes, slept a world of eloquent meaning, passeonato yet fure Gramy, ar subdued a but oh, how beautiful!

CHILD
MEMORIAL
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