V. DETRACTION.-HORACE, by CREECH.
The man who vilifies an absent friend,
Or hears him scandalized, and don't defend';
Who, much desiring to be thought a wit,
Will have his jest, regardless whom he hit';
Who, what he never saw, proclaims for true,
And vends for secrets what he never knew';
Who blabs whate'er is whispered in his ear,
And, fond of talk, does all he knows declare';-
That man's a wretch':-of him be sure beware.
VI. THE TRULY GREAT.-MARTIAL, by WATTS.
Milo, forbear to call him bless'd
That only boasts a large estate,
Should all the treasures of the East
Meet, and conspire to make him great.
Let a broad stream with golden sands
Through all his meadows roll,
He's but a wretch, with all his lands,
That wears a narrow soul.
VII. ADDRESS TO DEITY.-BOWRING.
Thou breathest;-and the obedient storm is still:
Thou speakest ;-silent the submissive wave:
Man's shattered ship the rushing waters fill;
And the hushed billows roll across his grave.
Sourceless and endless God! compared with Thee,
Life is a shadowy, momentary dream;
And time, when viewed through Thy eternity,
Less than the mote of morning's golden beam.
VIII. WOODLAND MUSIC.
A Description.-J. TOWNSEND Trowbridge.
[The following bit of description is very fine of its kind, while the little incident mentioned at the close is a pretty touch of nature that vividly mirrors forth the whole scene to the eye of fancy. It is one of those beauties of description mentioned in ver. 4, p. 44.]
The butterfly and humble-bee
Come to the pleasant woods with me;
Quickly before me runs the quail;
Her chickens skulk behind the rail;
High up the lone wood-pigeon sits,
And the woodpecker pecks, and flits.
Sweet woodland music sinks and swells;
The brooklet rings its tinkling bells;
The swarming insects drone and hum;
The partridge beats his throbbing drum.
The squirrel leaps among the boughs,
And chatters in his leafy house:
The oriole flashes by; and, look!
Into the mirror of the brook,
Where the vain bluebird trims his coat,
Two tiny feathers fall and float.
1. THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight To me did seem
Appareled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it has been of yore;-
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
2. The clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober coloring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
PATRIOTISM: LOVE OF COUNTRY AND OF HOME.
I. THE SHIP OF STATE.-H. W. LONGFELLOW.
[The Constitution and Laws are here personified, and addressed as The Ship of
SAIL on, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity, with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope;
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a fōrge and what a heat
Were forged the anchors of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock-
"Tis of the wave, and not the rock;
"Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock, and tempest roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee.
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee, are all with thee!
II. OUR COUNTRY. -GRIMKE.
We can not honor our country with too deep a reverence'; we can not love her with an affection too pure and fervent'; we can not serve her with an energy of purpose or a faithfulness of zeal too steadfast and ardent. And what is our country'? It is not the East', with her hills and her valleys, with her countless sails, and the rocky ramparts of her shores'. It is not the North', with her thousand villages and her harvest-home, with her frontiers of the lake and the
ocean. It is not the West', with her forest-sea and her inland isles, with her luxuriant expanses, clothed in the verdant corn; with her beautiful Ohio, and her verdant Missouri. Nor is it yet the South', opulent in the mimic snow of the cotton, in the rich plantations of the rustling cane, and in the golden robes of the rice-field. What are these but the sister families of one greater, better, holier family, OUR COUNTRY?
III. LOVE OF COUNTRY.-WALTER SCOTT.
1. Breathes there a man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land?
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
From wandering on a foreign strand?
2. If such there breathe, go mark him well:
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung.
IV. LOVE OF COUNTRY AND OF HOME.-MONTGOMERY.
1. There is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven, o'er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth,
Time-tutor❜d age, and love-exalted youth:
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air.
2. In every clime, the magnet of his soul,
Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole;
For in this land of heaven's peculiar grace,
The heritage of nature's noblest race,
There is a spot of earth supremely bless'd,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest;
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride,
While in his soften'd looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, father, friend.
3. Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life;
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.
"Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found`?"
Art thou a man' ?-a patriot'?-look around;
Oh thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land ̄ THY COUNTRY', and that spot THY HOME'!
V. OUR COUNTRY! 'TIS A GLORIOUS LAND.-W. J. PABODIE. 1. Our country!-'tis a glorious land,
With broad arms stretched from shore to shore;
The proud Pacific chafes her strand,
She hears the dark Atlantic's roar;
And nurtured on her ample breast
How many a goodly prospect lies,
In nature's wildest grandeur dressed,
Enameled with her loveliest dyes!
2. Great God! we thank thee for this home,
This bounteous birthright of the free,
Where wanderers from afar may come
And breathe the air of liberty!
Still may her flowers untrampled spring,
Her harvests wave, her cities rise;
And yet, till time shall fold her wing,
Remain earth's loveliest paradise!
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