101.-AN EVENING IN SUMMER.

JAMES THOMSON was born at Ednam, in Roxburghshire, Scotland, September 11, 1700. He was educated first at Jedburgh, and afterward at Edinburgh. His first poem, Winter, published in 1725, though not immediately successful, yet gradually won for him considerable fame as a poet. Two years later he published Summer, followed, a year later, by Spring, and finally, in 1730, Autumn appeared, together with a reissue of the other parts, thus completing The Seasons. He afterward wrote several plays, but with little success. In the spring of 1748 he published his Castle of Indolence, which is by some considered his finest work. His poems are harmonious, and show richness of imagination and great power in describing natural scenery. He died in August, 1748. The following extract is from The Seasons.

1.

SOBER Evening takes
Her wonted station in the middle air,
A thousand shadows at her beck. First this
She sends on earth; then that of deeper dye
Steals soft behind; and then a deeper still,
In circle following circle, gathers round,
To close the face of things. A fresher gale
Begins to wave the wood and stir the stream,
Sweeping with shadowy gust the fields of corn;
While the quail clamors for his running mate.

2. Wide o'er the thistly lawn, as swells the breeze,
A whitening shower of vegetable down
Amusive floats. The kind impartial care
Of Nature naught disdains: thoughtful to feed
Her lowest sons and clothe the coming year,
From field to field the feathered seeds she wings.
His folded flock secure, the shepherd home
Hies merry-hearted, and by turns relieves
The ruddy milkmaid of her brimming pail,-
The beauty whom perhaps his witless heart,
Unknowing what the joy-mixed anguish means,

Sincerely loves, by that best language shown
Of cordial glances and obliging deeds.

3. Onward they pass o'er many a panting height,
And valley sunk and unfrequented, where,
At fall of eve, the fairy-people throng,
In various game and revelry to pass
The summer night, as village stories tell.
But far about they wander from the grave
Of him whom his ungentle fortune urged
Against his own sad breast to lift the hand
Of impious violence. The lonely tower

Is also shunned, whose mournful chambers hold-
So night-struck fancy dreams—the yelling ghost.
Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge,

The glow-worm lights his gem, and through the dark
A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields

The world to Night.

DEFINITIONS.-2. Hieş, hastens. Wit'less, without wit or understanding. 3. Im'pi oùs, wicked.

102.-THE FOX AT THE POINT OF DEATH.

JOHN GAY was born at Barnstable, Devonshire, England, in 1688. In 1711 he published a poem dedicated to Pope. He wrote several works descriptive of low life in town, and also edited a number of plays, some of which were eminently successful, while others failed totally. In 1726 he wrote a volume of fables. His most popular work was his play called The Beggar's Opera. The wit and the allusions of his works are now out of date, and his fame as an author depends entirely on his lyric poems, some of which are full of sparkle and vivacity. He died December 4, 1732.

1. A Fox in life's extreme decay,

Weak, sick, and faint, expiring lay;
All appetite had left his maw,
And age disarmed his mumbling jaw;

His numerous race around him stand, To learn their dying sire's command. He raised his head with whining moan, And thus was heard the feeble tone: "Ah, sons, from evil ways depart : My crimes lie heavy on my heart. See, see the murdered geese appear! Why are those bleeding turkeys there? Why all around this cackling train, Who haunt my ears for chickens slain ?" 2. The hungry foxes round them stared, And for the promised feast prepared: "Where, sir, is all this dainty cheer? Nor turkey, goose, nor hen is here. These are the phantoms of your brain, And your sons lick their lips in vain." "O gluttons" (says the drooping sire), "Restrain inordinate desire :

Your liquorish taste you shall deplore
When peace of conscience is no more.
Does not the hound betray our pace,
And gins and guns destroy our race?
Thieves dread the searching eye of power,

And never feel the quiet hour.

Old age (which few of us shall know)

Now puts a period to my woe.

Would you true happiness attain,

Let honesty your passions rein;
So live in credit and esteem,

And the good name you lost redeem."

3. "The counsel's good" (a fox replies), "Could we perform what you advise.

Think what our ancestors have done,-
A line of thieves from son to son:
To us descends the long disgrace,
And infamy hath marked our race.
Though we like harmless sheep should feed,
Honest in thought, in word and deed,
Whatever hen-roost is decreased,

We shall be thought to share the feast.
The change shall never be believed:
A lost good name is ne'er retrieved."
Nay, then," replies the feeble fox—
"But hark! I hear a hen that clocks:
Go, but be moderate in your food;

66

A chicken, too, might do me good."

DEFINITIONS.-2. Cheer, provisions prepared for a feast. In ôrdi nate, excessive. Liquor Ish (now spelled "lickerish "), greedy. Gins, traps; snares. 3. În ́fa my, public disgrace. regained. Cloeks, clucks.

103.-ESSAY ON MAN.

Retrieved',

ALEXANDER POPE was born in London, May 21, 1688. As early as 1709, some of his poems and translations appeared in a periodical. He published a number of works, poetical, biographical, and critical, a series of essays, moral and philosophical, and a translation of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey One of his most celebrated essays is that On Man, from which the following extract is taken. As a writer of satires and a moralizer in verse, he is without a rival. He died May 30, 1744.

1. HEAVEN from all creatures hides the book of fate,—
All but the page prescribed, their present state;
From brutes what men, from men what spirits, know;
Or who could suffer being here below?

The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,-
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,
And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.