: 23.-THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR.-Tennyson. 4 old 1 Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, and the winter winds are wearily sighing toll ye the church-bell sad and slow, and tread softly and speak low, for the old year lies a-dying. Old year, you must not die; you came to us so readily, you lived with us so steadily, old year, you shall not die. 2 He lieth still he doth not move: he will not see the dawn of day. He hath no other life above. He gave me a friend, and a true true-love, and the New-year will take 'em away. Old year, you must not go; so long as you have been with us, such joy as you have seen with us, old year, you shall not go. 3 He froth'd his bumpers to the brim: a jollier year we shall not see. But though his eyes are waxing dim, and though his foes speak ill of him, he was a friend to me. Old year, you shall not die; we did so laugh and cry with you, I've half a mind to die with you, year, if you must die. He was full of joke and jest, but all his merry quips are o'er. To see him die, across the waste his son and heir doth ride post-haste, but he'll be dead before. Every one for his own. The night is starry and cold, my friend; and the New-year blithe and bold, my friend, comes up to take his own. 5 How hard he breathes! over the snow I heard just now the crowing cock. The shadows flicker to and fro the cricket chirps the light burns low: 'tis nearly twelve o'clock. Shake hands, before you die. Old year, we'll dearly rue for you: what is it we can do for you? Speak out before you die. 6 His face is growing sharp and thin. ... Alack! our friend is gone. Close up his eyes: tie up his chin step from the corpse, and let Him in that standeth there alone, and waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, and a new face at the door, my friend, a new face at the door. 24. THE PAPER KITE.-Newton. Once on a time, a Paper Kite had mounted to a wondrous height, where, giddy with its elevation, it thus express'd self-admiration :-"See, how yon crowds of gazing people admire my flight above the steeple! How would they wonder, if they knew all that a Kite like me can do! Were I but free, I'd take a flight, and pierce the clouds beyond their sight: but, ah! like a poor prisoner bound, my string confines me near the ground: I'd brave the eagle's towering wing, might I but fly without a string." It tugg'd and pull'd, while thus it spoke, to break the string-at last it broke. Depriv'd at once of all its stay, in vain it tried to soar away; unable its own weight to bear, it fluttered downwards through the air: unable its own course to guide, the winds soon plunged it in the tide. Ah! foolish Kite; thou hadst no wing! how couldst thou fly without a string?...My heart replied: "O Lord, I see how much this kite resembles me! Forgetful that by Thee I stand, impatient of Thy ruling hand, how oft I've wish'd to break the lines Thy wisdom to my lot assigns! How oft indulged a vain desire for something more, or something higher! And, but for Grace, and Love Divine, a fate thus dreadful had been mine." 25.--THE LION AND THE CUB.-Gay. A lion cub of sordid mind, avoided all the lion kind; fond of applause, he sought the feasts of vulgar and ignoble beasts; with Asses all his time he spent their club's perpetual president. He caught their manners, looks, and airs; an Ass in everything but ears! If e'er his Highness meant a joke, they grinn'd applause before he spoke; but at each word, what shouts of praise :-"Goodness! how natural he brays!" Elate with flattery and conceit, he seeks his royal Sire's retreat; forward and fond to show his parts, his Highness brays-the lion starts. "Puppy! that curs'd vociferation betrays thy life and conversation: coxcombs, an evernoisy race, are trumpets of their own disgrace." "Why so severe ?" the cub replies; our senate always held me wise !" "How weak is pride," returns the sire; "all fools are vain when fools admire! but know, what stupid asses prize, lions and noble beasts despise." 66 26. THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.-Gay. Friendship, like love, is but a name, unless to few you stint the flame. The child whom many fathers share, hath seldom known a father's care. 'Tis thus in friendships; who depend on many, rarely find a friend. A Hare who, in a civil way, complied with everything, (like Gay), was known by all the bestial train that haunt the wood, or graze the plain: her care was never to offend, and every creature was her friend. As forth she went at early dawn, to taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, behind she hears the hunter's cries, and from the deep-mouth'd thunder flies. She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; she hears the near advance of death; she doubles to mislead the hound, and measures back her mazy ground; till, fainting in the public way, half dead with fear she gasping lay. What transport in her bosom grew, when first the Horse appear'd in view!" Let me," says she, "your back ascend, and owe my safety to a friend. You know my feet betray my flight; to friendship every burden's light." The Horse replied, "Poor honest Puss, it grieves my heart to see thee thus: be comforted, relief is near, for all your friends are in the rear." She next the stately Bull implor'd; and thus replied the mighty lord: "Since every beast alive can tell that I sincerely wish you well, I may without offence pretend to take the freedom of a friend: love calls me hence; a favourite Cow expects me near yon barley-mow; and, where a lady's in the case, you know, all other things give place. To leave you thus would seem unkind; but see, the Goat is just behind." The Goat remark'd her pulse was high, her languid head, her heavy eye; "My back," says he, may do you harm; the Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm." The Sheep was feeble, and complain'd, his sides a load of wool sustain'd; said he was slow, confess'd his fears; "for hounds eat sheep as well as hares." She now the trotting Calf address'd, to save from death a friend distress'd. "Shall I," says he, "of tender age, in this important case engage ? Older and abler pass'd you by; how strong are those! how weak am I Should I presume to bear you hence, those friends of mine may take offence. Excuse me, then; you know my heart; but dearest friends, alas! must part! How shall we all lament! Adieu! for see, the hounds are just in view!" 27.-UNIVERSAL LOVE.- Whittier. Oh, brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother; Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer. 66 Follow, with reverent steps, the great example Then shall all shackles fall: the stormy clangour 28.-A HAPPY LIFE.- Wotton. How happy is he born and taught, that serveth not another's will; 29.-THE PERFECT WOMAN.-Wordsworth. 1 She was a phantom of delight when first she gleam'd upon my sight; a lovely apparition, sent to be a moment's ornament; her eyes, as stars of twilight fair; like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; but all things else about her drawn from May-time and the cheerful dawn-a dancing shape, an image gay, to haunt, to startle, and waylay. 2 I saw her upon nearer view, a Spirit—yet a Woman too! her household motions light and free, and steps of virgin liberty; a countenance in which did meet sweet records, promises as sweet; a creature not too bright or good for human nature's daily food, for transient sorrows, simple wiles, praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 3 And now I see with eye serene the very pulse of the machine; a being breathing thoughtful breath, a traveller between Life and Death; the reason firm, the temperate will, endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; a Perfect Woman, nobly plann'd to warn, to comfort, and command; and yet a Spirit still, and bright with something of an Angel light! 30.-LOVE.-Southey. They sin who tell us Love can die: with life all other passions fly-— all others are but vanity! In heaven Ambition cannot dwell, nor Avarice in the vaults of hell: earthly these passions, as of earth; they perish where they have their birth. But Love is indestructible; its holy flame for ever burneth, from heaven it came, to heaven returneth: too oft on earth a troubled guest, at times deceiv'd, at times oppress'd, it here is tried and purified, then hath in heaven its perfect rest: it soweth here with toil and care, but the harvest-time of Love is there! Oh! when a mother meets on high the babe she lost in infancy, hath she not then, for pains and fears, the day of woe, the watchful night, for all her sorrows, all her tears,— an over-payment of delight? 31.-THE QUIET LIFE.-Pope. 3 1 Happy the man, whose wish and care a few paternal acres bound; content to breathe his native air in his own ground. 2 Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, whose flocks supply him with attire; whose trees in summer yield him shade, in winter, fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find hours, days, and years slide soft away-in health of body, peace of mind; quiet by day, 4 sound sleep by night; study and ease together mix'd; sweet recreation; and innocence, which most does please, with meditation. 5 Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; thus unlamented let me die; steal from the world, and not a stone tell where I lie. H 32. THE LESSON OF THE FLOWER.-Waller. Go, lovely Rose! tell her, that wastes her time and me, that now she knows, when I resemble her to thee, how sweet and fair she seems to be. 2 Tell her that's young and shuns to have her graces spied, that, hadst thou sprung in deserts, where no creatures 'bide, thou must have uncommended died. 3 Small is the worth of Beauty from the light retired: bid her come forth, suffer herself to be desired, and not blush so to be admired. Then— die! that she the common fate of all things rare may read in thee:--How small a part of Time they share, that are so wondrous sweet and fair! 83.-TO BLOSSOMS.-Herrick. 1 Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, why do ye fall so fast? your date is not so past, but you may stay yet here awhile to blush and gently smileand go at last! 2 What! were ye born to be an hour or half's delight, and so to bid good night? 'Twas pity Nature brought you forth merely to show your worth-and lose you quite! But you are lovely leaves, where we may read how soon things have their end, though ne'er so brave: and after they have shown their pride, like you, awhile, they glide into the grave! 3 34.-TO DAFFODILS.-Herrick. Fair Daffodils! we weep to see you haste away so soon as yet the early-rising Sun has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay, until the hasting day has run but to the even-song; and, having pray'd together, we will go with you along. 2 We have short time to stay as you; we have as short a Spring; as quick a growth to meet decay as you or any thing. We die, as your hours do, and dry away like to the Summer's rain; or as the pearls of morning's dew-ne'er to be found again! 85. THE NIGHTS.-Barry Cornwall. 1 Oh, the Summer night has a smile of light, and she sits on a sapphire throne; whilst the sweet winds load her with garlands of odour, from the bud to the rose o'er-blown! 2 But the Autumn Night has a piercing sight, and a step both strong and free; and a voice for wonder, like the wrath of the thunder, when he shouts to the stormy sea! 3 And the Winter Night is all cold and white, and she singeth a song of pain; till the wild bee hummeth, and the warm Spring cometh-when she dies in a dream of rain! Oh, the Nights bring sleep to the greenwoods deep; to the bird of the air its nest; to care, soft hours-to life, new powers-to the sick and the weary, rest! 4 |