And seems to say-ye meaner fowl give place,
I am all splendour, dignity, and grace!
Not so the pheasant on his charms presumes,
Though he too has a glory in his plumes.
He, Christian like, retreats with modest mien
To the close copse, or far-sequestered green,
And shines without desiring to be seen.
VOLTAIRE AND THE COTTAGER.
YON COTTAGER, who weaves at her own door-
Pillow and bobbins all her little store-
Content, though mean, and cheerful, if not gay,
Shuffling her threads about the live-long day;
Just earns a scanty pittance, and at night
Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light:
She, for her humble sphere by nature fit,
Has little understanding, and no wit;
Receives no praise; but though her lot be such,
(Toilsome and indigent), she renders much ;
Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true-
A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew;
And in that charter reads, with sparkling eyes,
Her title to a treasure in the skies.
O happy peasant! O unhappy bard!
His the mere tinsel, hers the rich reward;
He, praised perhaps for ages yet to come.
She, never heard of half a mile from home:
He, lost in errors his vain heart prefers,
She, safe in the simplicity of hers.
The "Invincible Armada," as it was called, consisted of 132 vessels, most of them being of unusual magnitude, and mounted 3165 guns. It was navigated by 8766 seamen, and carried nearly 22,000 soldiers; a force which was to be augmented by 30,000 men assembled in the neighbourhood of Dunkirk. England now appeared animated with one sentiment. Exclusive of the levies furnished by the city of London, 132,000 men were speedily collected where the prospect of invasion was most imminent. The Queen appeared on horseback in the camp at Tilbury, and haranguing the army, exhorted the soldiers to remember their duties to their country and their religion. "I am ready," she said, "to pour out my blood for God, my kingdom, and my people. I will fight at your head; and although I have but the arm of a woman, I have the soul of a king, and what is more, of a king of England." By such conduct and language she filled the people with enthusiasm.
On the 29th of May 1588, the Spanish Armada, under the Duke of Medina, sailed from Lisbon; but a furious tempest next morning drove it back into harbour, and it did not reach the channel before the 19th of July. Here it was attacked by the English squadron, which proved victorious in five successive engagements. The Duke finding he could not form a junction with the troops at Dunkirk, meditated a return to Spain, when a storm arose, which destroyed the greater part of his fleet on the shores of Orkney and Ireland, so that only 53 ships reached home, and these in a shattered condition. The event was celebrated in this country with great rejoicings,
and a medal struck in commemoration, bearing the inscription, Deus afflavit et dissipantur, (God blew and they are scattered). The destruction of the Armada was a fatal blow to Spain; English cruisers covered all the seas, ravaged her coasts, and plundered her colonies.-White's Universal History.
ATTEND ALL YE who list to hear our noble England's praise:
I sing of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days,
When that great fleet invincible, against her bore in vain
The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts in Spain.
It was about the lovely close of a warm summer's day,
There came a gallant merchant ship, full sail to Plymouth bay;
The crew had seen Castile's' black fleet, beyond Aurigny's2 isle,
At earliest twilight, on the waves, lie heaving many a mile.
At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace;
And the tall Pinta,3 till the noon, had held her close in chase.
Forthwith a guard, at every gun, was placed along the wall;
The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecombe's lofty hall;
Many a light fishing bark put out, to pry along the coast;
And with loose rein, and bloody spur, rode inland many a post.
With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old Sheriff comes;
Behind him march the halberdiers, before him sound the drums.
The yeomen round the market cross make clear an ample space,
For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her Grace:
And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells,
As slow upon the labouring wind, the royal blazon swells.
Look how the lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown,
And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down!
So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard' field,
Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's eagle shield:
So glared he when, at Agincourt," in wrath he turned to bay,
And crushed and torn, beneath his claws, the princely hunters lay,
Ho! strike the flagstaff deep, sir Knight! Ho! scatter flowers fair maids!
Ho, gunners! fire a loud salute! ho, gallants! draw your blades!
Thou, sun, shine on her joyously! ye breezes, waft her wide!
Our glorious semper eadem! the banner of our pride!
The fresh'ning breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold-
The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold.
Night sunk upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea;
Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be.
From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford bay,
That time of slumber was as bright, as busy as the day;
For swift to east, and swift to west, the warning radiance spread-
High on St. Michael's Mount it shone-it shone on Beachy Head.
Far o'er the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern shire,
Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire,
1 Castile, a former kingdom of Spain, and from its great importance, as occupying the central table-land, it frequently gives its name to the whole kingdom. The Span. iards are sometimes called Castilians.
2 Aurigny's isle,-Alderney, one of the Channel islands.
3 Pinta, a Spanish vessel of war built for fast sailing.
4 Picard field,-Crecy or Cressy, a village in Picardy, famous for the great victory obtained by Edward III. over a large French army, Aug. 26th, 1346.
5 Agincourt, a village in France, near which, 25th October, 1415, the English, under Henry V., totally defeated a vastly superior force.
6 Semper eadem,-"always the same,"-Queen Elizabeth's motto.
The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamer's glittering waves,
The rugged miners poured to war, from Mendip's' sunless caves:
O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald flew-
He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge2-the rangers of Beaulieu.
Right sharp and quick the bells rang out, all night, from Bristol town;
And, ere the day, three hundred horse had met on Clifton Down.
The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night,
And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill, that streak of blood-red light.
The bugle's note, and cannon's roar, the deathlike silence broke,
And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke;
At once, on all her stately gates, arose the answering fires;
At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires;
From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear,
And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer;
And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet,
And the broad streams of flags and pikes dashed down each rousing street;
And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din,
As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in;
And eastward straight, for wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went;
And roused in many an ancient hall, the gallant squires of Kent;
Southward, for Surrey's pleasant hills, flew those bright coursers forth;
High on black Hampstead's swarthy moor, they started for the north;
And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still;
All night from tower to tower they sprang, all night from hill to hill;
Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Derwent's rocky dales;
Till, like volcanoes, flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales;
Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely height;
Till streamed in crimson, on the wind, the Wrekin's crest of light;
Till, broad and fierce the star came forth, on Ely's stately fane,
And town and hamlet rose in arms, o'er all the boundless plain:
Till Belvoir's lordly towers the sign to Lincoln sent,
And Lincoln sped the message on, o'er the wide vale of Trent;
Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burnt on Gaunt's embattled pile,
And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.
HYMN BEFORE SUNRISE IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI. COLERIDGE.
It is impossible to form a grander image of the rigidity and barrenness, the coldness and death of winter, than when you stand among the billows of one of these frozen seas; and yet it is here that Nature locks up in her careful bosom the treasures of the Alpine valleys, the sources of rich summer verdure and vegetable life. They are hoarded up in winter, to be poured forth beneath the sun, and with the sun in summer. Some of the largest rivers in Europe take their rise from the glaciers, and give to the Swiss valleys their most abundant supply of water, in the season when ordinary streams are dried up. This is a most interesting provision in the economy of nature, for if the glaciers did not exist, those verdant valleys into which
1 Mendip's sunless caves,-coal and lead mines are worked in the Mendip hills, Somersetshire.
2 Stonehenge,-"balancing or hanging stone," the remains of a gigantic Druidic temple in the midst of Salisbury plain, Wiltshire.
3 "Gaunt's embattled pile."-The castle of Lancaster. John, Duke of Lancaster, was born in Gaunt or Ghent, in Belgium. He was the progenitor of the Lancastrian line of kings.
the summer sun pours with such fervour would be parched with drought. So the mountains are parents of perpetual streams, and the glaciers are reservoirs of plenty." -Cheever's Wanderings of a Pilgrim.
HAST thou a charm to stay the Morning-Star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause
On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc !
The Arvē and Arveiron at thy base
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form!
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines,
How silently! Around thee and above
Deep is the air, and dark, substantial, black,
An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it,
As with a wedge! But when I look again,
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,
Thy habitation from eternity!
O dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee,
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,
Didst vanish from my thought: entranc'd in prayer
I worshipp'd the Invisible alone.
Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
So sweet we know not we are listening to it,
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought,
Yea, with my life, and life's own secret joy:
Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused,
Into the mighty Vision passing-there
As in her natural form, swell'd vast to Heaven!
Awake, my soul! not only passive praise
Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears,
Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake,
Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake!
Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn.
Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the vale!
O struggling with the darkness all night long
And visited all night by troops of stars,
Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink :
Companion of the morning-star at dawn,
Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn
Co-herald! wake, O wake, and utter praise.
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth?
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light?
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?
And you, ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad!
Who call'd you forth from night and utter death,
From dark and icy caverns call'd you forth,
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks
For ever shattered, and the same for ever?
Who gave you your invulnerable life,
Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy,
Unceasing thunder and eternal foam?
And who commanded (and the silence came),
Here let the billows stiffen and have rest?
Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow
Adown ravines enormous slope amain-
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,
And stopp'd at once amid their maddest plunge.
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!
Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?-
God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations,
Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice!
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow,
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!
Ye livery flowers that skirt th' eternal frost!
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest!
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storm!
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!
Ye signs and wonders of the element!
Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise!
Once more, hoar mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks,
Oft from whose feet the Avalanche, unheard,
Shoots downward, glittering thro' the pure serene
Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breast-
Thou too again, stupendous mountain! thou,
That as I raise my head, a while bow'd low
In adoration, upward from thy base
Slow travelling with dim eyes suffus'd with tears,
Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud,
To rise before me-Rise, O ever rise,
Rise like a cloud of incense, from the earth!
Thou kingly spirit thron'd among the hills,
Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven,
Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent sky,
And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun,
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.
1. Why does the morning star seem to pause on the mountain top?
2. What is the height of Mount Blanc ? 3. What gives the air its dark appearance at the summit?
4. At what height do storms usually rage?
5. Show the correctness of the expression, calm home.
6. Give the meaning of eternity, line 12. 7. In what state was the soul of man originally?
8. Whose power and goodness did man then see in everything?
9. Explain the expression, the soul in her natural form.
10. Are tears, thanks, ecstasy, passive or active praise?
11. What active praise does the poet propose to give?
12. What questions are put to the mountain?
13. What questions are put to the torrents?
14. Give the answer to them all. 15. What do the icefalls appear in the eye of the poet ?
16. Name the seven primary colours of light.
17. What glory surrounds the icefalls in the light of sun and moon?
18. With what voice are the torrents to answer?
19. What objects echo the shout,-and what objects are to sing?
20. Why is the 3d personal pronoun used in speaking of the piles of snow?
(Ans. They are so far above human reach, that he cannot speak to them, he must speak of them).
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