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679. A Cun: FOR HARD TIMES.

Wc are too fond of showing out in our families; and, in this way, our expenses far exceed our incontri Our dau hters--must be dressed off in their silks and crapes, instead of their linsey-Woolsey. Our young toiks--are too proud to be seen in a coarse dress, and their extravagance is bringing ruin on our !amilies. When you can induce your sons to p efer youn, women, for their real worth, rather than for their hou; when you can get them to choose a wife, who can make a good loaf of bread, and a good pound of butter, in preierence to a girl, who does nothing but dance about in her silks, and her laces; then, gen. terent, you may expect to see a change for the better. We must get back to the good old simplicity of former times, if we expect to see more prosperous days. The time was, even since memory, when a simple note was good for any amount of money, but now bonds and mort anes are thought almost no security; and this owing to the want of contidence.

And what has caused this want of confidence! Why, it is occasioned by the extravagant manner of living; by your families going in debt beyond your ability to pay. Examine this matter, gentleinen, and you will find this to be the real cause. Teach your sons to be too proud to ride a hackney, which their father cannot pay for. Let them be above being seen sporting in a gig, or a carriage, which their father is in debt for. Let them have this sort of independent pride, and I venture to say. that you will soon perceive a reformation. But until the change commences in this way in our families; until we bor in the work ourselves, it is in vain to expett letter times.

Now, kentlemen, if you think as I do on this subject, there is a way of showing that you do think so, and but one way; when you return to your homes, have independence enou:bi to put these principles in practice; and I am sure you will not be disappointed.

680. TUE FIRE-SIDE.
Dear Chloe, while the busy crowd,
The vain, ihe wralihy, and the proud,

in tolly's maze advance;
Tho'singularity. and pride,
Be callil our choice, we'll step aside,

Nor join the gildy dance.
From the gay world, well on retire,
To our own famly and fire,

Where love-our hours employs;
No 10'sy nie ghlior--enters liere,
No intermeddling stranger-neur,

To spoil our heart-fele joys.
Il solid happiness—we prire,
Within our breas!-this jewel lies;

And they are fools, who roam :
The world--has nothing to bexiow;
From our own selves-our joys must flow,

And that dear hut, our home.
Of rest, was Noali's dove leren,
When with inpatial wing she len

That safe retreal, the ark;
Giving her van excursion o'er,
The disappointed bird, once more

Explor'd the sacred lark.
Tho' fonls---spurn llymen's gemile pow'rs,
We, who improre his golden hours,

By sweet rxperience know,
That marriage, rigtig undersiood,
Gives to the lender, and the good,

A perad se below.
Our labes. shall richest comfort bring;
If tutoril rglit, they'll prove a spring

Wence pleasures ever rise :
We'll for their innds, with studicus can
To all that's inanly good, in iais,

And ira in thein for the skies.
While they our wisest hours engage,
They il joy our youth, support our agen

And crown our loary hairs:
They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day,
And thus, our iomlest loves repay,

And recompense our cares.
No borrowil joys! they're all our own
While. 10 the world, we live unknown,

Or, by the world forgoi;
Monarchis! we envy not your state;
We look with pils--on the great,

And bliss our humbler loi.
Our portion is not large, indeed!
But then. low litle do we need!

For nature's calls are few :
In this, the art of living lies,
To want no more, that may suffice,

And make that little do.
We'll therefore relish, with content.
Whaleer kind Providence has seni,

Noraun beyond our pow'r;
Por if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,

Nor lose the present four.
To be resigu'll, when ills hetide,
Patient, when ta vors are dened,

And pleasil, with lavors giv'n:
Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's pari;
This is that incense of the heart,

Whose fragrance-smells to heav'n
We'll ask 110 long protracted treat,
Since winter-life is seldorn sweet;

But, when our feast is o'er,
Grateful from table we'll arise,
Nor grudge our sons, with envious eyes,

The relies of our store.
Thus, hand in hand, thro' life we'll go;
Ils checker'd paths of joy and wo,

With cautious steps. We'll iread;
Quit ils va ll scenex, without a lear,
Without a trouble, or a trar,

And i ngle with the dead.
While conscience. like a faithful friend,
Shall. Ilıro' the g'oomy vale attend,

And cheer our dying brenth;
Shall. when all other cororis cense,
Like a k ne angol, wh srpente.

At sinooth the led of death Cotion.
Ye glittering towns, with wealth and splendor

crown't!; Ve field., where summer spreais profusion round Velakpe. whoxe vexe's catch the busy gale; Ye loend ng sw'nns, that dress the flowery valo For me your tributary stores combine : Creation's hicir, the world, the world is in ne.

PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA.

691. THE NATURE OF ELOQUENCE. Shall smile--upon its keenest pains, When public bodies are to be addressed, on

And scorn redress," momentous uccasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited,

I said to Death's uplifted dart, nothing is valuable in speechi, farther than it

* Aim sure! oh, why delay? is connected with high intellectual and mor

'Thou wilt not find a seariul heari, al endowments. Clearness, force, and earn. A weak, reluctant prey; estness, are the qualities which produce con For sull--the spirii, firm, and free, viction. True eloquence, indeed, does not Triumphant-in the last dismay, consist in speech. It cannot be brought from

Wrap-in its own eternity, far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain.

Shall, siniling, pass away." Words and phrases may be marshaled in 683. every way, but they cannot compass it. It?Mid the light spray, their snorting camels stood, must exist in the man, in the subject, and in Nor bath'd a fetlock, in the nauseous flood : the occasion. Affected passion, intense ex. He comes-their leader comes! the man of God, pression, the pomp of declamation, all may o'er the wide waters, lints his mighty rod, aspire after it, but cannot reach it. It coines, And onward treads. The circling waves retreal, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth In hoarse, deep murmurs, froin his holy feet; of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, And the chas'd surges, inly roaring, show native force.

The hard wet sand, and coral hills below. The graces taught in the schools, the costly With limbs, that falter, and with hearts, that swell, ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, shock and dis ust men, when their own lives, Down, down they pass-a steep. and slippery dei. and the fate of their wives, their children, and Around them rise, in pristine chaos hurl'd, their country, hang on the decision of the The ancient rocks, the secrets of the world; hour. Then, words have lost their power, And flowers, that blush beneath the ocean green, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory, and caves, the sea-calves' low-roor d haunts, are contemptible. Even genius itself then feels Down.safelydown the narrow pass they tread;[seen rebuked, and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities.

The beetling waters-storm above their head; Then, patriotism is eloquent; then, self-While far behind, retires the sinking day, devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, And fades on Edon's hills, its latest ray. out-running the deductions of logic, the high Yet not from Israei-fed the friendly light, purpose, of firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, or dark to them, or cheerless came the night; speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the Still, in their van, along that dreadful road, [God. whole man onward, right onward to his ob- Bluz'd broad and fierce, the brandish'd tord ject,--this--is eloquence.--Webster. Ils meteor glare-a ienfold lustre gave,

On the long mirror--of the rosy wave: 682. THE SOUL'S DEFIANCE.

While its blest beams--a sunlike heat supply, I said--to Sorrow's awful storm,

Warm every cheek, and dance in every eye. That beat against my breast,

To them alone-for Misraim's wizard train "Rage on! thou may'st destroy this form,

Invoke, for light, their monster-gods in vain : And lay it low--at rest;

Clouds heap'd on clouds, their struggling sighi con But sill--the spirit that now brooks

And tenfold darkness lisoods above their line. (fine, Thy tempesi, raging high,

Yet on they press, by reckless vengeance led, Undaunted, on ils fury looks-

And range, unconscious, through the ocean's bed, With steadfast eye.

Till midway now-that strange, and fiery form, I said--10 Pemury's meagre train,

Show'd his dread visage, liglutning through the " Come on! your threats I brave; My lasi, poor life-drop--you may drain, With withering splendor, blasted all their mighi, And crush me to the grave;

And brake their chariot-wheels, and marred their Yer still, the spirit, that endures,

coursers' flighi. Shall mark your force--ihe while,

“Fly, Misraim, fly!" 'The ravenous foods they see, And meet each cold, cold grasp of yours, And, fiercer than the floods, the Deity. With bitter smile."

“ Fly, Misraim, fly!" From Edom's coral strand, I said--10 cold Neglect, and Scorn,

Again the prophet stretch'd his dreadful wand: “Pass on! I heed you not;

With one wild crash, the thundering waters sweep, Ye may pursue me, till my form,

And all-is waves-a dark, and lonely deep: And being--are forgol;

Yet, o'er these lonely waves, such murmurs past, Yet, still-the spirit, which you see

As mortal wailing swell'u the niglıtly blast: Undaumed by your wiles,

And strange, and sad, the whispering breezes bore Draws from its own nobility

The groans of Egyp1-10 Arabia's shore.--Heber. Its higi-born siniles.” I said--to Friendship's menaced blow,

She never told her love, “Strike deep! my heart shall bear; But let concealment, like a worm is the bud, Thou canst but add-one bitter wo

Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thoughz, To those-already there;

And, with a green and yellow melancholv,
Yet scili-the spirit, that sustains

She sat like patience on a monument,
This lase--severe distress,

Smiling at griei.

storin:

CONCEALED LOVE.

684. GREEK LITERATURE. It is impos-, And, lost each human trace, surrender ug up sible--to contemplate the annals of Greek hit- Thine individual being, shail thou go, erature, and art, without being struck with To mix forever with the elements, them, as by far the most extraordinary, and

To be a brother--to th’ine inside rock, brilliant phenomenon. in the history of the hu

And to the sluggish clou, which the rude swan man mind. The very languige, even in its primitive simplicity, as it came down from the Turi:s with his share, a: direads upon. rapsodists, who celebrated the exploits of

The oak Hercules, and Theseus, was as great a won- Shall send his roois abroal, and pierce t'iy mulk Jer, as any it records.

Yet not, to tly eternal resting place, All the other tongues, that civilized men have spoken, are poor, and feeble, and bar- Shalt thou retire, alone-nor couli'si thou wish barous, in comparison of it. Its compass,

Couch more magnificent. 'Thou shalt lie down and tlexibility, its riches, and its powers, are With patriarchs of the intant world, with king's altogether unlimited. It not only expresses, The powerful or the earth, the wise, the goud. with precision, all that is thought, or known, Fair forms, and hoary scers of ages pası, at any given period, but it enlarges itself na- all-in one-miglily sepulchre. turally, with the progress of science, and af

The hills, fords, as it without an eilort, a new phrase, or a systematic nomenclature, whenever one is Rock-sibbed, and ancient as the sun ; the vales called for.

Stretching in pensive quieress between; It is equally adapted to every variety of The venerable woods; rivers, that move style, and subject, to the most shadowy sub- In majesty, and the complaining brooks tiety of distinction, and the utmost exactness That make the ineadows green; and, poured round oi definition, as well as to the energy, and the pathos of popular eloquence, to the majesty,

Old ocean’s gray and melancholy wusle, the elevation, the variety of the Epic, and the Are but the solemn decorations allboldest license of the Dithyrambic, no less or the great tomli of man. The golden sun, than to the sweetness of the Elezy, the siin- The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, plicity of the Pastoral, or the beedless gayety, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, and delicate characterization of Comedy. Through the still lapse of ages.

Above all, what is an unspeakable charm, a sort of naivete is peculiar to it, and appears

All that tread in all those various styles, and is quite as be- The globe, are but a handiull, to the tribes, comins, and agreeable, in an historian, or a That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings philosopher, Xenophon for instance, as in the Oi' morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, light and jocund numbers of Anacreon.

Or, lose thyself in the continuous woods, Indeed, were there no other object, in learn- Where rolls the Oregon, and hears 110 sound, ing Greek, but to see-to what perfection language is capable of being carried, not only as

Save its own dashings-yet-ihe dead are there; a medium or communication, but as an instru- And millions in those solitudes, since first ment of thought, we see not why the time of The flight of years began, have laid them dowo a young man would not be just as well be- In their last sleep: the dead-reign there-alone. stowed, in acquiring a knowledge of it, for all So shalt thou rest; and what, ií thou shalt iall, the purposes at least of a liberal, or elementary education, as in learning algebra, another Unnoticed by the living; and no friendspecimen of a language, or arrangement of Take note of thy departure? Ali that breathe signs perfect in its kind.-Legure.

Will share thy desuny. The gay will laugh, 685. OUK EXIT: TRAXATOPSIS.

When thou art gone; the solemn brood of care To him, who, in the love of nature, holds

Plod on; and each one, as before, will chase Communion with her visible forms, slie speaks His favorite phantom; yes, all these shall leave A various language; for liis gayer hours, Their mirth, and their enjoyments, and shall come, She has a voice of gladness, and a smile,

And make their bed will thee. As the long train And eloquence of beauty, and she glides

Of ages glide away, the sons of men, Into his dark musings, with a mild,

The youth, in life's green spring, and be, who four And gentle sympathy, that sicals away

In the full strengih of years, matron, and maid, Their sharpness, ere he is aware.

The lowed with age, the intant, in the smiles When thoughts

And beauty of its innocent age, cut oil.-Of the last bitter hour, come like a bliglit

Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side, Over thy spirit, and sad images

By those, who, in their turn, shall follow them. Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,

So live, that wlien thy suinmons comes, to join And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,

The innumerable caravan, that moves Make thee to shulder, and grow s.ck at heart;

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall uke Go foi h into the open sky, and list

His chamber, in the silent halls of death, To na.."a's teaching, while, from all around,

Thou go not, like the quarry-siase at night, (ad, Comes a suill voice

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained, and sooth " Yet a few days, and thee,

By an unsalter.ng trusi, approach thy grave, The all-beholding sun shall se no more.

Like one, wlm wraps le drapery of his conch In all his course; nor yet, in the cold ground,

About him, and les down-10 pleasant dreams." Where thy pale form was in d, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

It is jealousy's-peculiar natura,

To swells all this to great; my, out of sought, Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim

To conjure much, and then, Icee its ternThy growth, 10 be resolved io carih again;

Ami the bileous phantom tlus furnia

686. BENEFITS OF AGRICULTURE. Agria! reil!e-is the greatest among the arts; for it is first in supplying our necessities. It is the mother, and nurse-of all other arts. It Cavors and strengthens population ; it create's und maintains manufactures ; gives employmeni to navigation, and materials to comDeri'e It animates every species of industry and opensto nations the surest channels of opulence. It is also the strongest bond of well regulated society, the surest basis of internal peace, the natural association of good morals.

We ought to count, among the benefits of azriculture, the charm, which the pract (e of it communicates to a country life. That charm, which has made the country, in our view, the retreat of the hero, the asylum of the sake, and the temple of the historic musc. The strong desire, the longing atler the country, with which we find the buik of mankind to be penetrated, points to it as the chosen abode of sublunary bliss. The sweet occupations of culture, with her varied products and attendant enjoyments, are, at least, a relet from the stilling atmo-phere of the city, the monotony of subdiv.ded employments, the anxious un erta nty of commerce, the vexations of ambition so often disappointed, of self-love so often morutic i, of fictitious pleasures, and unsubstantial vanities.

Health, the first and best of all the blessings of lite, is preserved and fortified by the practice oíayriculture. That state of well-being, which we feel and cannot detine; that selfBitisfied disposition, which depends, perlaps, on the perfect equilibrium, and easy play of vital forces, turns the slightest acts to pleasore, and makes every exertion of our faculties a source of enjoyment; this inestimable state of our bodily functions is most vigorous in the country, and it lost elsewhere, it is in the country we expect to recover it.

The very theatre of agriculturalavocations, gives theni a value that is peculiar; for who can contemplate, without emotion, the may. nificent spectacle of nature, when, arred in vermal hucs, she renews the scenery of the world! All things revive her powerful voice ---the meadow resumes its freshness and ver. dure; a living sap circulates through every budding tree; rowers spring to meet the warm caresses of Zephyr, and from their opening petals pour forth rich perfume. The sonsters of the forest once more awake, and in tones of melody, again salute the com as down; and again they deliver to the even ny echo--their strains of tenderness and love. Can man-rational, sensitive man--can he temin unmoved by the surrounding presence! and where else, than in the country, can he behold, where else can he fielthis qu'ilee of nature, this universal joy !--MNeven. Let me lead you from this place of sorrow, To one where young delights attend; and joys, Yet new, unborn, and blooming in the hud, Whion want to be fa 1 - blown al your approach, And xpread like roses, to the morning sin; Whepen +v'ry hour shall roll in circlina joys, And love shall wing the tod111119--wasting day. Life without love. is load; and time stands still: What we refuse to him, to death we give; And then, then only, when we love, we live.

687. THE AMERICAN FLAG. When Freedomfrom her mountain height,

Unfuri'd her standard-to the air,
She tore the azure robe of might,

And set the stars of glory-there.
She mingled, with its gorgeous dyei
The milky baldr c-of the skies,
And striped its pure-celestial white,
With streakings of the morning liglit;
Then, from his mansion--in the skin
She cal ed her eagle-bearer--downl,
And gave-into tus miglity hand,
The symbol-of her chosen land.
Majestic monarch-oi the cloud,

Who rear'xi aluft-Thy reyal form,
To hear the tempest-rumpinys loud,
And see the lightning lances driven,

When strive- he warri rs of the storm,
And rols-the thunder-drum of lieaven,-
Child of ihe sun! 10 thee 'lis giveni,

To guard the banner of the free,
Tobover--inile sulphur make,
To ward away the ballle-stroke,
And bid iis blendings-shine, afir,
Like rainbows-on the cloud of war,

The harbingers--of victory:
Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope---and iriumph high,
When speaks the signal trumpet tone,
And the long line--comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the life-Ilond, warm and wet,
Has al mm'd the glistening bajonet,
Each soldier eye-shall brightiy jurn
To wher: thy meteor glories burn;
And, as his springing steps advance,
Catch war, and vengeance-from ile glanca.
And when the cannon-mouthings loud,
Hease, in wild wreaths, the battle-shroud,
And gory sabrerse, and fil,
Like sliools of llane--111 mi Inight's pall;
There hali iliy victor glancex glow,

And rowering foes-shall fall beneath
Each gallaut arm, iliat suikes below-

That lovely messenger of death.
Flag of the sens! on ocean's wave,
Thy sluss shall gutter o'er the brave :
When deraill, careering on the gale,
Swerp darkly-round the bullied sail,
And frig' cell waves-rush wildly back-
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer of the sent,
Shall look, al once, to heaven-and thee,
And smile-nsre thy sp'endors fly,
In triumpli-co'er his closing eye.
Flag of the frer beart's only home!

By angel hand--to valor given;
Thv stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy lies--were born in heaven. Forever Noai--that stand ind sheel!

Where hroathes the foe-hit falls before , With Freedom's soll--beneath our feel.

And Freedom's bannı-streaming o'er ust
Ilis he ng was in her alone,
And he not leing, she was none.
Thry joy'd one joy, one grief they grievid
One love they lov'd, one life tey livd.

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GSS. TRUUTE TO WASHINGTOV. Hard, Bowl-rang to bowl,-steel-clanged to sleel.-and rose a teafesbaru indeed, was the contest for freedom, and ing cry, the struggle for independence. The golden That maile the torches flore around, and shook the flags on high: sun of liberty--bad nearly sci, in the gloom “Ho! craverin, do ye tear deniz-slaves, traitors! have ye town: of an eternal night, ere its radiant beams il-Ho! enwards, have ye left me to meet him here alone! lumined our western horizon, Had not the But I defy him :-let him come !" Doua rang the massy cup, tutelar saint of Columbia-hovered around While, from its sheath, the ready lade canie tlashing half-way p; the American caip, and presided over her And, with the black, and heavy plumes-scarce trembling on las destinies, freedom inust have met with an

head, Intimely grave. Never, can we suiliciently ad- There-in his dark, carved, oaken chair, Old Rudiger sal, dead quire the wisdom of those statesmen, and the

690. QUEEN VAB. skill, and bravery, of those anconquerable ve O then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. terans, who, by their unwearied exertions in She is the fairy's midwife, and she comes the cabinet, and in the field, achieved for us

Iu shape, no bigger than an agite-slone, the glorious revolution. Nerer, can we duly appreciate the merits of a Washington; who, on the forefinger of an alderman; with buta handfullofundisciplined yeomanry,

Drawn with a team oi little atomies, triumphed over a royal army, and prostrated Athwart mei's noses, as they lie asleep: die lion of England at the feet of the Ameri. Her wagon spokes--made of long spinner's legs; can ca.le.

His naine.--so terrible to his focs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers; so welcome to his friends,-- shall live forever The traces of the smallert spiders web; upon the brightest page of the historian, and w remembered, with the warmest emotions | The collars-oi the moonshine's watery beams; of gratitude, and pleasure, by those, whom Her whip-of cricket's bone; her lush-of film; he had contributed to make happy, and by Her wagoner-a small gray-coated gnal, a) mankind, wien kings, and princes, and Not hali so big--as a round--intle worm, nobles, for ages, shall have sunk into their Prick'd from the lazy finger of a inaid; merited oblivion. Unlike them, be needs not Her chariot-is an empty hazel-nut, 11.e assistance of the sculptor, or the architect, Made by the jo-ner-scurrel, or old grub, w perpetuate his memory: he needs no

Time out of mind. the fairies: coach-makers. princely dome, no monumental pile, no stately pyramid, whose towering height shall And in this state she gallops, night by night, perre the storiny clouds, and rear its lofty Thro' lovers' brains, and then they dream of lovos head to heaven, to tell posterity his fame. On courtiers' knees, that dream on curisies atra:1; His deeds, his worthy decds, alone have ren. O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on leus; dered him immortal! When oblivion shall O'er ladies' lips, whio straight on kisses drea bave swept away thrones, kingdoms, and sometimes, slie gallops o'er a courtier's nose, principalities--when human greatness, and

And then dreams he of smelling out a suit: grandeur, and glory, shall have mouldered into dust,--eternity itself shall catch the ylow- And sometimes comes slie, with a tithe-pig's tail, ing theme, and dwell with increasing rapture Tickling the parson, as he lies asleep; on his name!--Gen. Hurrison.

Then dreams he-of another benefice. 689. TIE BARON'S LAST BANQUET.

Sometimes, she driveth o'er a soldier's ueck, Our a lw couch--the setting sud-had thrown its latest ray, And then he dreams of cutting foreign throais, Where, in his lus!-- strong agong--a dying warrior lay,

Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, The stern Baron Rudiger, whose framohad ne'er heen bent

Of healthis five fathoms deep; and the anon Hy wantiaz pain, till time, and toil—its iron strength had spent. *They come around me bere, and say my days of life are ver,

Drums in his ears, at which he starts, and wakes; Itut I shall mount my notile steed, and lead my band no more;

And being thus frighiedl. swears a prayer or two, Iney come, and to my beard--they dare to tell me now, that i, And sleeps again.-Shuhspeare. Their own liege Lord, and master born,—that I, ha! ha! must die. Art what is death? I've dared him ofl-before the Payním spear, of youth--is slowly wasting away into the

YOUTILAVD AGE. When the summer day Think yele's entered at my gate, has come to seek me here? I've met him, facti him, scorn'd'dim, when the fight was raging nizhutallof age, and the shadows of past years

grow deeper and deeper, as life wears to its I'll try his might-I 'll brave his power: defy, and fear him not. close, it is pleasant to look back, through the H; sund the toesin from my tower, and fire the culverin,

vista of time, upon the sorrows and felicities But each retainer-arm with serin-call every vasalin,

of our earlier years. If we have a home to up with my lanner on the wall, the banquet board prepare,

shelter, and hearts to rejoice with us, and Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor tbere!"

friends have been gathered together around An hun tret hands were busy then, the banquet forth was spread, wayfaring will liave been worn and smoothed

our tiresides, then, the rough places of our rung-h-bewy naken thr, with many a minial tread; while from the rich, hark tracery-along the vaulted wall,

away, in the twilight of life, while the sunny Lights lamet on larness, plume and spear, o'er the proud old spots we have passed through, will grow

brighter and more beautiful. Happy, indeed, Gothic hail Fre hurrying t'amugh the outer tomthe mailed retainers pour'd, are they, whose interference with the world On the the perils frowning arch, and throng's around the brand has not changed the tone of their holier feelWhile, at its beal, within his dark, carved raken chair of state,

ings, or broken those musical chords of the Armeu cap-apie, stero Rudiger, with girdel fali hion, sate.

heart, whose vibrations are so melodious, so Fill every trmker ur, my men, pour forth the cheering wine,

tender and touching, in the evening of age. There's life, and streagth-in every dros, -thanksgiving to the vine! When Larning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes Are ye all there, tuy vask is true--mine eyes are waxing dim;

First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakspeare rose. Fill ruzov, my twed and fearlev ones, each goblet to the brim. Ye're there, trut yet I see ye not Draw forth euch trusty skoni,

Each change of many-color d life he drew;

Exhausted worlds, and then imagind new: and let me near your fullu steel chas, once around my board; bear it farlyler yet! - What clogs my heavy breath?

Existence-saw him spurn her bounded rega; all - shout for Rudiger, Duunto Deats

And panting 'Time-oud alier him in vain. BRONSON 19

2 B

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