Hear the voice of Calma when she sat alone on the hill. It is night; I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent pours down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain, forlorn on the hill of winds! Rise, moon, from behind thy clouds. Stars of the night, arise! lead me, by thy light, to the place where my love rests from the chase alone, his bow near him unstrung, his dogs panting around him. But here I must sit alone, by the rock of the mossy stream. wind roar aloud. I hear not the voice of my love! Why delays my Salgar, why the chief of the hills his promise? Here is the rock, and here the tree! here is the roaring stream! Thou didst promise with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Salgar gone?

The stream and the

4. With thee would I fly from my father, with thee from my brother of pride. Our race have long been foes; we are not foes, O Salgar! Cease a little while; let my voice be heard around. Let my wanderer hear me! Salgar, it is Colma who calls! Here is the tree and the rock. Salgar, my love! I am here. Why delayest thou thy coming? Lo! the calm moon comes forth; the flood is bright in the vale; the rocks are gray on the steep. I see him not on the brow. His dogs come not before him with tidings of his near approach. Here I must sit alone!

To Colma

5. Who lie on the heath beside me? Are they my love and my brother? Speak to me, O my friend! they give no reply. Speak to me: I am alone! My soul is tormented with fears! Ah! they are dead! Their swords are red from the fight.

6. O my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my Salgar? Why, O Salgar! hast thou slain my brother? Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise? Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands! he was terrible in fight. Speak to me; hear my voice; hear me, sons of my love! They are silent; silent forever! Cold, cold are their breasts of clay! Oh, from the rock on the hill, from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead! speak! I will not be afraid! Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall I find the departed? No feeble voice

is on the gale; no answer half-drowned in the storm! I sit in my grief! I wait for morning in my tears.

LESSON CLXIX.

THE BATTLE HYMN.

THEODORE KORNER.

THEODORE KORNER, a celebrated German poet and soldier, was born at Dresden, in 1791. He was killed in a battle against the French, which took place near Rosenberg, August 26, 1813.

1. FATHER of earth and heaven! I call thy name!
Round me the smoke and shout of battle roll!
My eyes are dazzled with the rustling flame;
Father, sustain an untried soldier's soul.

Or life, or death, whatever be the goal

That crowns or closes round this struggling hour,
Thou knowest, if ever from my spirit stole
One deeper prayer, 'twas that no cloud might lower
On my young fame! O hear! God of eternal power!

2. God! thou art merciful. The wintry storm,

The cloud that pours the thunder from its womb, But show the sterner grandeur of thy form;

The lightnings, glancing through the midnight gloom, To faith's raised eye as calm, as lovely, come, As splendors of the autumnal evening star, As roses shaken by the breeze's plume, When, like cool incense, comes the dewy air, And on the golden wave the sunset burns afar.

3. God! thou art mighty. At thy footstool bound, Lie gazing to thee, chance, and life, and death; Nor in the angel circle flaming round,

Nor in the million worlds that blaze beneath,

Is one that can withstand thy wrath's hot breath.

Woe in thy frown, in thy smile victory!

Hear my last prayer! I ask no mortal wreath;

Let but these eyes my rescued country see,
Then take my spirit, all Omnipotent, to thee.

p'f* 4. Now for the fight, now for the cannon peal! p5f5 Forward! through blood, and toil, and cloud, and

fire!

Glorious the shout, the shock, the crash of steel, The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire! They shake! like broken waves their squares retire! On them, hussars! Now give them rein and heel! Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire! pf Earth cries for blood! in thunder on them wheel! This hour to Europe's fate shall set the triumph seal!

LESSON CLXX.

EXTRACT FROM THE BUNKER HILL MONUMENT ORATION.

DANIEL WEBSTER.

1. THE great event in the history of this continent, which we are now met here to commemorate, that prodigy of modern times, at once the wonder and the blessing of the world, is the American Revolution. In a day of extraordinary prosperity and happiness, of high national honor, distinction, and power, we are brought together, in this place, by our love of country, by our admiration of exalted character, by our gratitude, our signal services and patriotic devotion.

2. The society whose organ I am, was formed for the purpose of rearing some honorable and durable monument to the memory of the early friends of American independence. They have thought, that for this object, no time could be more propitious than the present prosperous and peaceful period, that no place could claim preference over this memorable spot; and that no day could be more auspicious to the undertaking, than the anniversary of the battle which was here fought. The foundation of that monument we have

now laid. With solemnities suited to the occasion, with prayers to almighty God for his blessing, and in the midst of this cloud of witnesses, we have begun the work.

3. We trust it will be prosecuted; and that, springing from a broad foundation, rising high in massive solidity and unadorned grandeur, it may remain, as long as Heaven perrits the works of man to last, a fit emblem, both of the events in memory of which it is raised, and of the gratitude of those who have raised it. We know indeed, that the record of illustrious actions is most safely deposited in the universal remembrance of mankind. We know, that if we could cause this structure to ascend, not only till it reached the skies, but till it pierced them, its broad surfaces could still contain but part of that which, in an age of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, and which history charges itself with making known to all future times.

4. We know that no inscription on entablatures less broad than the earth itself, can carry information of the events we commemorate where it has not already gone; and that no structure, which shall not outlive the duration of letters and knowledge among men, can prolong the memorial. But our object is, by this edifice, to show our own deep sense of the value and importance of the achievements of our ancestors; and, by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a constant regard for the principles of the Revolution. Human beings are composed, not of reason only, but of imagination also, and sentiment; and that is neither wasted nor misapplied which is appropriated to the purpose of giving right direction to sentiments, and opening proper springs of feeling in the heart.

5. Let it not be supposed that our object is to perpetuate national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit of national independence, and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it forever. We rear a memorial of our conviction of that unmeasured benefit which has been conferred on our own land, and of the happy influences which have been produced, by the same events, on the gen

eral interests of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot which must forever be dear to us and our posterity.

6. We wish that whosoever, in coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may behold that the place is not undistinguished where the first great battle of the Revolution was fought. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection from maternal lips, and that weary and withered age may behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. We wish that labor may look up here, and be proud in the midst of its toil. We wish that in those days of disaster, which, as they come on all nations, must be expected to come on us also, desponding patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured that the foundations of our national power still stand strong.

7. We wish that this column, rising toward heaven among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit.

LESSON CLXXI.

CLEAR THE WAY!

CHARLES MACKAY.

CHARLES MACKAY, one of the most popular writers of the day, was born at Perth, Scotland, about the year 1812. He was educated for a lawyer; but his love of literature predominated, and he relinquished the practice of law, and became an author by profession. From 1834 to 1843 he was connected with the "Morning Chronicle." In 1844 he became the Editor of the "Glasgow Courier." He has published a volume of poems and a number of prose works, has written many excellent articles in "Chambers's Journal," and it is said that he is now one of the principal contributors to the "London Illustrated News."