Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
So loud with voices of the birds,

So thick with lowings of the herds,
Day, when I lost the flower of men;
Who tremblest thro' thy darkling red

On yon swoll'n brook that bubbles fast
By meadows breathing of the past,
And woodlands holy to the dead;

Who murmurest in the foliaged eaves

A song that slights the coming care,
And Autumn laying here and there
A fiery finger on the leaves;

Who wakenest with thy balmy breath
To myriads on the genial earth,
Memories of bridal, or of birth,
And unto myriads more, of death.
O, wheresoever those may be,

Betwixt the slumber of the poles,

To-day they count as kindred souls;
They know me not, but mourn with me.

EXAMPLE FOR PRACTICE.

He that goeth about to persuade a multitude, that they are not so well governed as they ought to be, shall never want attentive and favourable hearers; because they know the manifold defects whereunto every kind of regiment is subject, but the secret lets and difficulties, which in public proceedings are innumerable and inevitable, they have not ordinarily the judgment to consider. And because such as openly reprove supposed disorders of state are taken for principal friends to the common benefit of all, and for men that carry singular freedom of mind; under this fair and plausible colour, whatsoever they utter, passeth for good and current. That which wanteth in the weight of their speech, is supplied by the aptness of men's minds to accept and believe it. Whereas on the other side, if we maintain things that are established, we have not only to strive with a number of heavy prejudices deeply rooted in the hearts of men, who think that herein we serve the time, and speak in favour of the present state, because thereby we either hold or seek preferment; but also to bear such exceptions as minds, so averted beforehand, usually take against that which they are loath should be poured into them.-Hooker.

SKELETON FORM-SUBJECT IN ITALICS.

The bough shall sway, the blossom flutter. The beech gather brown, the maple burn away. The sun-flower shall ray her disk with flames. The rose-carnation shall feed the air with spice. The brook shall babble down, shall gird the grove, shall flood the haunts of hern, shall break the moon into silver arrows. A fresh association shall blow, the landscape shall grow The labourer tills his glebe, lops the glades. Our memory fades.

familiar.