5 10 All passions in our frames of clay And our own world, its gloom and glee, And death's sublimity. And Burns, though brief the race he ran, LESSON LXVI.-THE FUTURE LIFE.-W. C. BRYANT. How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps When all of thee that time could wither, sleeps, 5 For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain, 10 Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven? In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind In the resplendence of that glorious sphere, 15 And larger movements of the unfettered mind, 20 Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here? A happier lot than mine, and larger light, And lovest all, and renderest good for ill. 25 For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell, Shrink and consume the heart, as heat the scroll And wrath hath left its scar,-that fire of hell Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, 10 Thy fit companion in that land of bliss? LESSON LXVII.-THE SPIRIT OF POETRY.-H. W. LONGFELLOW. There is a quiet spirit in these woods, That dwells where'er the south wind blows; Where, underneath the white thorn in the glade, Slips down through moss-grown stones with endless laughter, Its feet go forth, when it doth wrap itself Aslant the wooded slope at evening goes; Groves, through whose broken roof the sky looks in ; Mountain, and shattered cliff, and sunny vale, The distant lake, fountains, and mighty trees, 5 In many a lazy syllable, repeating Their old poetical legends to the wind. And this is the sweet spirit that doth fill The world; and, in these wayward days of youth, 10 As the bright image of the light and beauty That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds 15 The heaven of April, with its changing light, Her hair Is like the summer tresses of the trees, When twilight makes them brown, and on her cheek 20 Blushes the richness of an autumn sky, With ever-shifting beauty. Then her breath, It is so like the gentle air of Spring, As, from the morning's dewy flowers, it comes 25 To have it round us, and her silver voice Is the rich music of a summer bird, Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence. 5 10 LESSON LXVIII.—THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW.-N. P. WILLIS. Woe! for my vine-clad home! With its bright threshold, and its whispering tree! Fearing the lonely echo of a tread, Beneath the roof-tree of my glorious dead! Lead on! my orphan boy! Thy home is not so desolate to thee, May bring to thee a joy; But, oh! how dark is the bright home before thee 5 10 15 Lead on! for thou art now My sole remaining helper. God hath spoken, The forehead of my upright one, and just, He will not meet thee there Who blessed thee at the eventide, my son ! The lips that melted, giving thee to God, Is with the sleepers of the valley cast, With his high glance of fire. Woe! that the linden and the vine should bloom, LESSON LXIX.-THE SICILIAN VESPERS.-J. G. WHITTIER. Silence o'er sea and earth With the veil of evening fell, Till the convent tower sent deeply forth The chime of its vesper-bell.* Fell heavily on the ear; 5 One moment, and that solemn sound But a sterner echo passed around, 10 15 20 The startled monks thronged up, The peasant heard the sound, As he sat beside his hearth; And the song and the dance were hushed around, The signal adopted by the Sicilians, for commencing the massacre of their French conquerors. The chieftain shook in his bannered hall, And the warder shrank from the castle wall Woe, woe, to the stranger then, In the red array of mailed men, For the wakened pride of an injured land From the plumed chief to the pilgrim band; Proud beings fell that hour, With the young and passing fair; And the flame went up from dome and tower The stranger priest at the altar stood, But the holy shrine grew dim with blood,— Woe, woe, to the sons of Gaul, To the serf and mailed lord! They were gathered darkly, one and all, And the morning sun, with a quiet smile, On ruined temple and mouldering pile, And the man of blood that day might read, How ill his lark and midnight deed LESSON LXX.-MEXICAN MYTHOLOGY.-WM. H. PRESCOTT. The Aztecs, or ancient Mexicans, had no adequate conception of the true God. The idea of unity, of a being, with whom volition is action, who has no need of inferior |