Where the first blood was shed, That to my country's independence led; And others, on our shore, "The battle monument," at Baltimore, And that on Bunker's Hill, Aye, and abroad, a few more famous still. Thy "Tomb," Themistocles, That issue from the gulf of Salamis ;— Thy mound of earth, Patroclus, robed in green, Sheep climb, and nibble over, as they stroll, Upon the margin of the plain of Troy. Such honors grace the bed, I know, whereon the warrior lays his head, The conquered flying, and the conqueror's shout. What is a colunin, or a mound, to him? The mellow notes of bugles? What the roll Where the blue heaven bends o'er me lovingly, As it goes by me, stirs my thin, white hair, The death-damp, as it gathers, and the skies My soul to their clear depths! Or, let me leave Wife, children, weeping friends are gathered, And holy hymning shall my soul prepare With kindred spirits who have blessed The human brotherhood By labors, cares, and counsels for their good. And in my dying hour, When riches, fame, and honor have no power Or from my lips to turn aside the cup. O, let me draw refreshment from the past! With peace and joy, along my earthly track, That I have scattered there, in virtuous deeds, And, though no grassy mound Or granite pile, say, 'tis heroic ground, Still will I hope-vain hope, perhaps that those, The wanderer reclaimed, the fatherless— With the poor prisoner and the poorer slave,- That they may die like him whose bones are LESSON LXXXV.* Hours of Idleness.-WORDSWORTH. There is no remedy for time misspent, Whose very languor is a punishment Heavier than active souls can feel or guess. O hours of indolence and discontent, Not now to be redeemed! ye sting not less Because I know this span of life was lent For lofty duties, not for selfishness; Not to be whiled away in aimless dreams, But to improve ourselves and serve mankind, Life and its choicest faculties were given. Man should be ever better than he seems : And shape his acts, and discipline his mind, To walk adorning earth, with hope of heaven! LESSON LXXXVI. Fame.-JOANna Baillie. OH! who shall lightly say that fame Whilst in that sound there is a charm The young from slothful couch will start, Oh! who shall lightly say that fame A desert bare, a shipless sea? Oh! who shall lightly say that fame LESSON LXXXVII. The Pauper's Death-bed.-MRS. SOUTHEY. Stranger! however great, With lowly reverence how; Beneath that beggar's roof, That pavement, damp and cold, No mingling voices sound— Oh! change-Oh! wondrous change- This moment there, so low, So agonised, and now Beyond the stars! Oh! change-stupendous change! There lies the soulless clod: The Sun eternal break The new Immortal wate Wakes with his God. LESSON LXXXVIII. Last Scene of the Tragedy of" Brutus."-J. H. PAINE. Citizens Present. At the left of the stage a tribunal, with a consular chair upon it. Brutus eaters, followed by Valerius, and ascends the tribunal. Br. Romans, the blood which hath been shed this dav Their acts as bold and daring; and though villains, [TITUS is brought in by the LiCTORS. Pris-on-er— [A pause. [The voice of BRUTUS falters, and is choked, and he exclaims, with violent emotion Romans! forgive this agony of grief— My heart is bursting-Nature must have way— I cannot feel less than a father ought! [He becomes more calm. Gives a signal to the Lic- Well, Titus, speak-how is it with thee now? Ti. Father, I call the pow'rs of heaven to witness The gods will have it so. Br. They will, my Titus : Nor heav'n, nor earth, can have it otherwise. It seems as if thy fate were pre-ordain'd To fix the reeling spirits of the people, And settle the loose liberty of Rome. 'Tis fix'd ;-oh, therefore, let not fancy cheat thec: |