Blest are the moments, doubly blest, Look up to heaven! th' industrious sun Help with thy grace, through life's short day, And glorify for us the west, When we shall sink to final rest. WORDSWORTH 79. THE DEATH OF MARMION. WITH fruitless labour, Clara bound, And strove to staunch, the gushing wound: The monk, with unavailing cares, Exhausted all the Church's prayers: Ever he said, that close and near A lady's voice was in his ear, And that the priest he could not hear, For that she ever sung, "In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, "Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying!" So the notes rung; "Avoid thee, fiend! with cruel hand "Shake not the dying sinner's sand;that sign "O look, my son, upon A light on Marmion's visage spread, "Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!" Were the last words of Marmion. SIR WALTER SCOTT. 80. A FATHER READING THE BIBLE. TWA 'WAS early day, and sunlight stream'd That hush'd, but not forsaken, seem'd, Pure fell the beam, and meekly bright, And touch'd the page with tenderest light, Some word of life e'en then had met Some ancient promise, breathing yet Some martyr's prayer, wherein the glow For every That feature said-" I know And silent stood his children by, Of thoughts o'ersweeping death. MRS. HEMANS. 81. THE HOLLY TREE. READER! hast thou ever stood to see 0 The holly tree? The eye, that contemplates it well, perceives Order'd by an intelligence so wise As might confound the atheist's sophistries. Below a circling fence, its leaves are seen No grazing cattle, through their prickly round, But as they grow where nothing is to fear, I love to view these things with curious eyes, And in this wisdom of the holly tree Wherewith, perchance, to make a pleasant rhyme, One which may profit in the after-time. Thus, though abroad, perchance, I might appear To those who on my leisure would intrude Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be, And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away; Till the smooth temper of my age should be And as, when all the summer trees are seen The holly leaves their fadeless lines display But when the bare and wintry woods we see, So serious should my youth appear among So would I seem, amid the young and That in my age as cheerful I might be gay, SOUTHEY. 82. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. UNDER a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, His hair is crisp, and black, and long; His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat; And looks the whole world in the face, |