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If I'm not so large as you,
You are not so small as I,
And not half so spry:4
I'll not deny you make
A very pretty squirrel track.5
Talents differ; all is well and wisely put:
If I cannot carry forests on my back,
Neither can you crack a nut.”

R. W. EMERSON. CAUTION: This is a very easy poem to read. The tone is that of candid reasoning-especially in the lines beginning, I'll not deny.

MEANINGS : 1. Prig, conceited, stuck-up thing. 2. Bun, name given to a squirrel in America. 3. Sphere, world. 4. Spry, quick, lively, active (an American word). 5. Squirrel track, place for a squirrel to run up and down.

UNDER the green hedges after the snow,
There do the dear little violets grow,
Hiding their modest and beautiful heads
Under the hawthorn in soft mossy beds.
Sweet as the roses, and blue as the sky,
Down there do the dear little violets lie;
Hiding their heads where they scarce may be seen,
By the leaves you may know where the violet hath been.

J. MOULTRIE. CAUTION : This verse is so musical and rhythmical, that there is a danger of falling into a sing-song. Both the rhythm and the rhyme will take very good care of themselves; and the whole attention of the reader must be directed to the sense.


THE summer and autumn had been so wet,
That in winter the corn was growing yet ;-
'Twas a piteous sight to see all around
The grain lie rotting on the ground.“
Every day the starving poor
Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door,-
For he had a plentiful last year's store,
And all the neighbourhood could tell
His granaries were furnished well..



The poor

“ I' faith,


At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day
To quiet the poor without delay;
He bade them to his great barn repair,
And they should have food for the winter there.
Rejoiced such tidings good to hear,

folk flocked from far and near;
The great barn was full, as it could hold-
Of women and children, and young and old.
Then when he saw it could hold no more,
Bishop Hatto be made fast

the door;
And while for mercy on Christ they call,
He set fire to the barn and burnt them all.

'tis an excellent bonfire!” quoth he,
And the country is greatly obliged to me,
For ridding it in these times forlorn3
Of rats,

that only consume the corn."
So then to his palace returnëd he,
And he sat down to supper merrily,
And he slept that night like an innocent man;
But Bishop Hatto

slept again.
In the morning as he entered the hall,
Where his picture hung against the wall,
A sweat like death all over him came,
For the rats had eaten it out of the frame.
As he looked there came a man from the farm,
He had a countenance white with alarm.;
“My lord, I opened your granaries this morn,
And the rats had eaten all your corn."
Another came running presently,
And he was pale as pale could be,

Fly! my Lord Bishop, fly,” quoth he,
- Ten thousand rats are coming this way-
The Lord forgive you for yesterday!”
“I'll go to my tower on the Rhine,” replied he,
“'Tis the safest place in Germany;
The walls are high,

and the shores are steep,
And the stream is strong, and the water deep."
Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away,
And he crossed the Rhine

without delay, And reached his tower,

and barred with care All the windows, doors, and loopholes there."


a scream

He laid him down, and closed his eyes,
But soon

made him arise;-
He started, and saw two eyes of flame
On his pillow from whence the screaming came.
He listened and looked ; it was only the cat;
But the Bishop he grew more fearful for that,
For she sat screaming, mad with fear,
At the army of rats that was drawing near.
For they have swum over the river so deepik
And they have climbed the shores so steep,
And up the tower their way is bent
To do the work for which they were sent.
They are not to be told by the dozen

or score,
By thousands they come, and by myriads4

and more;
Such numbers had never been heard of before,
Such a judgment had never been witnessed of yore.
Down on his knees the Bishop fell,
And faster and faster his beads did he tell,
As louder and louder drawing near
The gnawing of their teeth he could hear.”
And in at the windows, and in at the door,
And through the walls helter-skelter they pour,
And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below,
And all at once to the Bishop they go.


CAUTIONS : a. This line to be read very slowly. b. This line must be read in the slow level tone of ordinary narration. c. An emphasis on his. d. The emphatic word is there. e. This line to be read in a quiet matter-of-fact way. f. This line must be read in a distinct and rather cougratulatory manner; and the next line very slowly, as if reading out the Bishop's doom, and preparing the listener for what is to follow. g. Pronounce presentlee, in the old-fashioned way, as was sometimes done in ballads. h. Slow enumeration. i. Take care not to put any accent on whence. k. Slow and clear narration. 1. This line must be read with extreme slowness. m. This line is deficient in the number of syllables; but this should be made up for by the slow way of reading it and by the pauses.

MEANINGS : 1. Repair, come. 2. Tidings, news. 3. Forlorn, miserable. 4. Myriads, tens of thousands. 5. Tell his beads, say his prayers.


In the battle of the Nile, Captain Casabianca commanded the ship L'Orient, which caught fire;-the flames reached the magazine, and she blew up. He had given an order to his son, a midshipman, about thirteen years old, not to leave his post until further orders.

Tue boy stood on the burning deck,"

Whence all but him had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck

Shone round him o'er the dead !
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,

As born' to rule the storm ;
A creature of heroic blood,

A proud, though childlike form.
The flames rolled on; he would not go

Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,

His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud, -"Say, father, say,

If yet my task be done”
He knew not that the chieftain lay

Unconscious of his son.
“Speak, father!” once again he cried,

“If I may yet be gone!"
And but the booming shots replied,

And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair ;
And looked from that lone post of death

In still, yet brave despair ;
And shouted but once more aloud, -

“My father! must I stay!”
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,

The wreathing? fires made way.
They wrapt the ship in splendours wild,

They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,

Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder sound;

The boy-Oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds, that far around

With fragments strewed the sea



With mast, and helm, and pennono fair,

That well had borne their part :-
But the noblest thing that perished there

Was that young, faithful heart.- Mrs. HEMANS. CAUTIONS: A. Almost all young readers say, misled by the verse accent:

The boy stood on the burning deck. The only way to correct this is to make the reader say, “The boy stood”separately-and then to add “on the burning deck.”

6. The same danger haunts this line. But means only; and a pause must be made after the And, to enable the but to associate itself with its own words.

MEANINGS : 1. As born=as if he had been born. 2. Wreathing, playing about the mast and cordage, as if winding wreaths round them. 3. Pennon-another form is pennant-a small flag.

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THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. This poem was written by COWPER (who died in 1800) on one of H.M.'s ships which was lying at Portsmouth. She had been heeled over a little for the purpose of repairs; her port-holes were open, and a slight breeze threw her off her balance; the water rushed in, and she sank with all on board. Admiral Kempen. felt, the officer in command, was drowned while writing in his cabin. The ode is written in a simple, serious, and vigorous style; and it should be the object of the reader to render the feeling of the poem with the fullest justice.

ToLL for the brave ! *
The brave

that are

no more!
All sunk beneath the wave,

Fast by their native shore !
Eight hundred of the brave,

Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel,

And laid her on her side.
A land breeze shook the shrouds,

And she was overset;
Down went the Royal George,

With all her crew complete.
Toll for the brave !

Brave Kempenfelt is gone;
His last sea-fight is fought,

His work of glory done."
It was not in the battle; o
Nō tempest gave the shock:

no fatal leak;
She ran
His sword was in its sheath ;

His fingers held the pen,


She sprang

upon no rock.

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