Imágenes de páginas

God grant that when night overshadows our way,
And we shall be called to account for our day,
He may find us as guileless as Goldenhair lay.

And oh, when aweary, may we be so blest,
As to sink like the innocent child to our rest,
And feel ourselves clasped to the Infinite breast!


IT happened at Athens, during a public representation of some play, exhibited in honor of the State, that an old gentleman came too late for a place suitable to his age and quality.

A number of young men, who observed the difficulty and confusion the poor old gentleman was in, made signs to him that they would accommodate him, if he came where they sat.

The good man bustled through the crowd accordingly; but when he came to the seats to which he was invited, the jest among the young fellows was, to sit close, and expose the confusion and embarrassment of the old man to the gaze of the whole audience.

The frolic went round all the benches reserved for the Athenians. But on those occasions there were also particular places set apart for strangers. When the good man, covered with confusion,

came toward the boxes appointed for the Lacedemonians, these honest, though less instructed people, rose from their seats, and, with the greatest respect, received the old gentleman among them.

The Athenians, being suddenly touched with a sense of the Lacedemonians' virtue and their own misconduct, gave a thunder of applause; and the old man cried out, "The Athenians understand what is good, but the Lacedemonians "ractise it." Addison.



"WHERE is thy home?" I asked a child
Who in the morning air

Was twining flowers most sweet and wild
In garlands for her hair.

"My home," the happy heart replied,
And smiled in childish glee,
"Is on the sunny mountain side,
Or where I chance to be."

Oh! blessings fall on artless youth,
And all its rosy hours,

When every word is joy and truth,
Its home among the flowers.

"Where is thy home? thou lonely man," I asked a pilgrim grey,

Who came, with furrowed brow and wan, Slow musing on his way.

He paused, and with a solemn mien.
Upturned his holy eyes;

"The land I seek thou ne'er hast seen,
My home is in the skies."

Oh! blest-thrice blest the heart must be To whom such thoughts are given, That walks from worldly fetters free,Its only home in heaven!


GREAT King William spread before him All his stores of wealth untold,Diamonds, emeralds, and rubies,

Heaps on heaps of minted gold. Mournfully he gazed upon it


As it glittered in the sun,
Sighing to himself, "O treasure!
Held in care, by sorrow won!
Millions think me rich and happy;
But, alas! before me piled,
I would give thee ten times over
For the slumbers of a child!"

Great King William from his turret
Heard the martial trumpets blow,
Saw the crimson banners floating

Of a countless host below;
Saw their weapons flash in sunlight,

As the squadrons trod the sward;
And he sighed, "O mighty army,

Hear thy miserable lord: At my word thy legions gatherAt my nod thy captains bend; But, with all thy power and splendor, I would give thee for a friend!"

Great King William stood on Windsor, Looking, from its castled height, O'er his wide-spread realm of England Glittering in the morning light; Looking on the tranquil river

And the forest waving free. And he sighed, "O land of beauty, Fondled by the circling sea! Mine thou art, but I would yield thee And be happy, could I gain, In exchange, a peasant's garden, And a conscience free from stain!"

THERE once was an ancient city
Beside the silvery sea,
Where the white ships lay at anchor,
And the glad waves tossed in glee.

And down by the wharves the houses
Were low, and dark, and small;
But beyond, the streets were spacious
And the mansions grand and tall.

Here loathsome vice was hidden,
There virtue walked secure;

And those were the homes of the wealthy,
And these were the haunts of the poor.

In a dark and lonely garret

Where the sunlight's radiant flame Through the narrow cobwebbed windows Feebly and faintly came,

Alone in the rosy morning,

Alone in the twilight shade, With God and her precious lily Dwelt a little orphan maid.

All day through the crowded city
She begged her bitter bread,
And at night in the lonely garret
She laid her weary head.

« AnteriorContinuar »