Forth with its reaching fancy, and with form

And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye
Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl
Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip,

Were like the winged god's, breathing from his flight.

"Bring me the captive now!

My hand feels skilful, and the shadows lift
From my waked spirit airily and swift;
And I could paint the bow

Upon the bended heavens, around me play
Colors of such divinity to-day.

"Ha! bind him on his back!

Look! as Prometheus in my picture here—
Quick-or he faints!-stand with the cordial near!
Now bend him to the rack!

Press down the poisoned links into his flesh!
And tear agape that healing wound afresh!

"So-let him writhe! How long

Will he live thus? Quick, my good pencil, now!
What a fine agony works upon his brow!
Ha! gray-haired, and so strong!

How fearfully he stifles that short moan!
Gods! if I could but paint a dying groan!

'Pity' thee! So I do!

I pity the dumb victim at the altar;

But does the robed priest for his pity falter?
I'd rack thee, though I knew

A thousand lives were perishing in thine :
What were ten thousand to a fame like mine?

"Hereafter!' Ay, hereafter!

A whip to keep a coward to his track!
What gave Death ever from his kingdom back
To check the skeptic's laughter?

Come from the grave to-morrow, with that story,
And I may take some softer path to glory.

s the flowers, and we shall breathe away
e upon the chance wind, e'en as they :
crain well thy fainting eye;

hen that bloodshot quivering is o'er,
ght of heaven will never reach thee more.

Yet there's a deathless name,

it that the smothering vault shall spurn, ike a steadfast planet, mount and burn; nd though its crown of flame

med my brain to ashes as it won me, the fiery stars! I'd pluck it on me.

Ay, though it bid me rifle

eart's last fount for its insatiate thirst;
gh every life-strung nerve be maddened first;
Though it should bid me stifle

yearning in my throat for my sweet child,
taunt its mother till my brain went wild ;-

'All, I would do it all,

er than die, like a dull worm, to rot;

st foully in the earth to be forgot.

O heavens! but I appal

heart, old man! forgive-Ha! on your lives, im not faint!-rack him till he revives!

"Vain, vain; give o'er! His eye

es apace. He does not feel you now

d back! I'll paint the death-dew on his brow. Gods! if he do not die

for one moment-one-till I eclipse

ception with the scorn of those calm lips!

is heart still? Aha! lift up his head! shudders-gasps-Jove help him-so-he's dead."

LESSON CXXXV.

The Soul's Defiance.*-ANONYMOUS.

I SAID to Sorrow's awful storm,
That beat against my breast,
"Rage on! thou may'st destroy this form
And lay it low at rest;

But still the spirit, that now brooks
Thy tempest, raging high,
Undaunted, on its fury looks

With steadfast eye."

This poem was written many years ago, by a lady, and written from exence and feeling. There is a very remarkable grandeur and power in the iments, sustained, as they are, by an energy of expression well suited to spirit's undaunted defiance of misfortune.-Ed. Common-place Book of etry.

et still the spirit, that sustains
This last severe distress,
all smile upon its keenest pains,
And scorn redress."

said to Death's uplifted dart,
"Aim sure! oh, why delay?
hou wilt not find a fearful heart-
A weak, reluctant prey;

or still the spirit, firm and free,
Triumphant in the last dismay,
rapt in its own eternity,

Shall smiling pass away."

LESSON CXXXVI.

Sonnet to the South Wind.-BRYANT.

1 art welcome-heaven's delicious breathwoods begin to wear the crimson leaf, suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, year smiles as it draws near its death.

the sunny South, oh, long delay

gay woods and in the golden air,—

to a good old age, released from care, ing, in long serenity, away.

a bright, late quiet, would that I

t wear out life, like thee, mid bowers and brocks, dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,

Isic of kind voices ever nigh;

when my last sand twinkled in the glass, silently from men, as thou dost pass.

LESSON CXXXVII.

Lilias Grieve.-WILSON.

were fear and melancholy in all the glens and val lay stretching around, or down upon St. Mary's

och; for it was the time of religious persecution. Many sweet cottage stood untenanted on the hill-side and in the ollow: some had felt the fire, and been consumed; and viont hands had torn off the turf roof from the green shealing the shepherd. In the wide and deep silence and solitariess of the mountains, it seemed as if human life were nearly tinct. Caverns and clefts, in which the fox had kennelled, ere now the shelter of Christian souls; and when a lonely gure crept stealingly from one hiding-place to another, on a sit of love to some hunted brother in faith, the crows ould hover over him, and the hawk shriek at human steps, ow rare in the desert.

When the babe was born, there might be none near to bapze it; or the minister, driven from his kirk, perhaps, poured e sacramental water upon its face, from some pool in the glen, hose rocks guarded the persecuted family from the oppresr. Bridals now were unfrequent, and in the solemn sadness love. Many died before their time, of minds sunken, and broken hearts. White hair was on heads long before they ere old; and the silver locks of ancient men were often efully soiled in the dust, and stained with their martyred bod.

But this is the dark side of the picture; for, even in eir caves, were these people happy. Their children were th them, even like the wild flowers that blossomed all out the entrances of their dens. And when the voice of alms rose up from the profound silence of the solitary ace of rocks, the ear of God was open, and they knew that eir prayers and praises were heard in heaven. If a child as born, it belonged unto the faithful; if an old man died, was in the religion of his forefathers. The hidden powers their souls were brought forth into the light, and they ew the strength that was in them for these days of trial. he thoughtless became sedate; the wild were tamed; the feeling made compassionate; hard hearts were softened, d the wicked saw the error of their ways.

All deep passion purifies and strengthens the soul; and so s it now. Now was shown and put to the proof, the stern, stere, impenetrable strength of men, that would neither nd nor break; the calm, serene determination of matrons, o, with meek eyes and unblanched cheeks, met the scowl