Which secret steals adown thy lovely face, Dissembling smiles to cheer me-cheer me! Heaven! Look on the mighty ruin I have pluck'd,

Pluck'd instant, unsuspected, in the hour

Of

peace

and dear security, on her head! And where-O where can cheerfulness be found? Mine must be mourning ever. Oh, my wife, "I have undone thee !" What th' infuriate band Of foes vindictive could not have achievedIn mercy would not-I have wrought! Thy husband! Thy husband, loved with such unshaken truth,— Thy husband, loved with such a steady flame, From youth's first hour!-even he hath on thee pluck'd, On thee, his soul's companion, life's best friend, Such desolation, as to view would draw From the wild savage pity's deepest groan !

5. A Convict Mother's Grief.

Dr. Dodd.

Oh, sleep not, my babe! for the morn of to-morrow Shall soothe me to slumber more tranquil than thine ; The dark grave shall shield me from shame and from

sorrow,

Though the deeds and the gloom of the guilty are mine. Not long shall the arm of affection enfold thee:

Not long shalt thou hang on thy mother's fond breast; And who with the eye of delight shall behold thee,

And watch thee, and guard thee, when I am at rest? And yet it doth grieve me to wake thee, my dearest, The pangs of thy desolate mother to see;

Thou wilt weep when the clank of my cold chain thou hearest,

And none but the guilty shall mourn over me.

And yet I must wake thee-for while thou art weeping, To calm thee, I stifle my tears for awhile;

But thou smil'st in thy dreams while thus placidly sleeping,

And, oh! how it wounds me to gaze on thy smile!

Alas! my sweet babe, with what pride had I pressed thee To the bosom that now throbs with terror and shame, If the pure tie of virtuous affection had blessed thee,

And hailed thee the heir of thy father's high name! But now-with remorse that avails not-I mourn thee, Forsaken and friendless, as soon thou wilt be: In a world, if it cannot betray, that will scorn thee— Avenging the guilt of thy mother on thee.

And when the dark thought of my fate shall awaken The deep blush of shame on thy innocent cheek,— When by all but the God of the orphan forsaken,

A home and a father in vain thou shalt seek ;— I know that the base world will seek to deceive thee, With falsehood like that which thy mother beguil'd; Yet, lost and degraded-to whom can I leave thee? O God of the fatherless! pity my child!

V.-Passions, with Intense Emotion.

Dale.

Passions of this class, indicating the greatest emotion and excitement of which the human mind is capable, are always connected with much mental suffering. They are expressed in those deep tones which are naturally associated with intense feeling, and frequently give occasion to great excitement, both of voice and

manner.

They may be illustrated by Anger, and Rage, its excess;-Hatred, and that condition of the mind to which it prompts, Revenge ;-Remorse, which connects itself chiefly with the past, and Despair, which looks forward also to the future; the former excited by individual acts, and the latter by circumstances beyond the sufferer's control.

It must not be supposed, however, that the intense emotions of the mind are limited to such passions as are included in this chapter. Every passion is capable of being intensified, and requires, in such case, to be properly expressed in reading.

(1.) ANGER AND RAGE.

1. Adam's Anger against Eve.

To whom, then first incens'd, Adam reply'd:
"Is this thy love? is this the recompense
Of mine to thee, ungrateful Eve?

And am I now upbraided as the cause
Of thy transgressing? Not enough severe,
It seems, in thy restraint: what could I more?
I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold
The danger and the lurking enemy

That lay in wait; beyond this had been force,
And force upon free-will hath here no place.
But confidence then bore thee on, secure
Either to meet no danger, or to find
Matter of glorious trial: and perhaps
I also err'd in overmuch admiring

What seem'd in thee as perfect, that I thought
No evil durst attempt thee; but I rue

That error now, which is become my crime,
And thou th' accuser."

Milton.

2. Henry the Fifth's Anger against Lord Scroop.

But O!

What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop; thou cruel
Ingrate, savage, and inhuman creature!

Thou, that did'st bear the key of all my counsels,
Thou knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
That almost might'st have coin'd me into gold,
Would'st thou have practis'd on me for thy use;
May it be possible, that foreign hire
Could out of thee extract one spark of evil
That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange
That, though the truth of it stands off as gross
As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it.
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, did'st bring in
Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder:

And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
That wrought upon thee so preposterously,
Hath got the voice in hell for excellence :
For he that temper'd thee,

Gave thee no instance why thou should'st do treason,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.

O, how hast thou with jealousy infected
The sweetness of affiance!

Why, so did'st thou

Why, so did'st thou
Why, so did'st thou
Why, so did'st thou:

Show men dutiful? seem they grave and learned? come they of noble family? seem they religious? or, are they spare in diet;Free from gross passion, or of mirth or anger; Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood; Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement? Such, and so finely bolted did'st thou seem: And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, To mark the full-fraught man, and best indued, With some suspicion. Shakspeare.

3. Queen Katharine's Indignation against Wolsey.

Lord Cardinal,

To you I speak.-I do believe,

Induced by potent circumstances, that

You are mine enemy; and make my challenge
You shall not be my judge: for it is you

Hath blown this coal betwixt my lord and me.
Therefore, I say again,

I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul

Refuse you for my judge whom yet once more,
I hold my most malicious foe, and think not

At all a friend to truth.-My lord, my lord,

I am a simple women, much too weak

To oppose your cunning. You are meek and humblemouth'd;

You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility: but your heart
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.

You have, by fortune, and his highness' favours,
Gone slightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted
Where powers are your retainers: and your words,
Domestics to you, serve your will, as 't please
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,
You tender more your person's honour than
Your high profession spiritual: and again

I do refuse

you for my judge.

Shakspeare.

4. Rage of Marmion against Douglas.
Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire,

And-" This to me!" he said-
"An 'twere not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas head!
And first I tell thee, haughty Peer,
He who does England's message here,
Although the meanest in her state,
May well, proud Argus, be thy mate:
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here,
Even in thy pitch of pride,

Here in thy hold, thy vassals near
(Nay, never look upon your lord,
And lay your hands upon your sword),
I tell thee, thou'rt defied!

And if thou said'st I am not peer,
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,

Lord Argus, thou hast lied!"

Walter Scott.

5. W. Tell's Rage at being commanded to Bow to Gesler's Cap.

Off, off, you base and hireling pack!

I've scatter'd

A flock of wolves that did outnumber you.

For sport I did it. Sport! I scattered them
With but a staff not half so thick as this.