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Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the bivouac of Life,
Be a hero in the strife!
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
We can make our lives sublime,
Footprints on the sands of Time;
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
With a heart for any fate;
Learn to labour and to wait.
1. Are the events of life really what they appear at first sight to be?
2. What are afflictions designed to accomplish, if we will only learn?
3. Of what two parts does man consist?
4. Which part was formed of the dust of the ground, and must return to it ?
5. What is not the end or design of life?
6. For what purpose, then, are we placed on the footstool ?
7. Farther daily on what way?
8. To what does every beat of the heart bring us nearer?
9. What must we be in the battle of life?
10. Name the enemies we meet with in this conflict
11. Repeat the noble resolution expressed in the last verse.
BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO.
LOCKHART. Bernard Del Carpio, son of Donna Ximena, (the sister of Alonzo or Alphonso the Chaste), and of Don Sancho Count Saldana, is supposed to have the interview here described in the ballad with the king, after the treacherous execution, or rather murder, of Bernardo's
father by Alphonso. The period is contemporaneous with that of Charlemagne, A.D. 768. WITH some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appear'd Before them all in the Palace hall, the lying King to beard ; With cap in hand and eye on ground, he came in reverend guise, But ever and anon he frown'd, and flame broke from his eyes.
A curse upon thee,” cries the King, “who com’st unbid to me;
His sire, Lords, had a traitor's heart; perhaps our Champion brave May think it were a pious part to share Don Sancho's grave !" “Whoever told this tale—the King hath rashness to repeat," Cries Bernard, " Here my gage I fling before The LIAR's feet ! No treason was in Sancho's blood, no stain in mine doth lieBelow the throne what knight will own the coward calumny? “The blood that I like water shed, when Roland did advance, By secret traitors hired and led, to make us slaves of France ; The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval,* Your words, Lord King, are recompense abundant for it all. "Your horse was down your hope was flown—I saw the falchion
Ye swore, upon your kingly faith, to set Don Sancho free,
* Roncesvalles (French Roncevaux), a frontier village of Spain, in a gorge of the Pyrenees. Here, it is traditionally said that the rear-guard of Charlemagne's army, under Roland or Orlando, was defeated and destroyed in 778, and that Roland himself fell by the hand of Bernardo del Carpio.
1. Name Bernardo's parents.
8. What does Bernardo say of the king 2. In what century did Charlemagne who breaks his faith? flourish?
9. Why was not Bernardo seized at the 3. Why is Alphonso called the lying King's command ? King?
10. In what words does onr champion 4. Describe Bernardo as he approaches challenge the King and his nobles ? the throne.
11. What takes place when the horn is 5. What are the words of the King as blown? Bernardo advances ?
12. In what tone did the King now ad6. What reply does the champion make dress him? to the King's calumny and threat ?
13. What sort of smile would Bernardo 7. What facts are alluded to in verse 4th? | give on leaving the hall ?
THE LADY AND ADOPTED CHILD,
MES HEMANS. Some years since, a young New Zealander was carried to England, where he lived many years, was carefully educated, and introduced into the most refined society. When his education was completed, he returned to his home, and at once returned to the habits, the character, and the degradations of savage life. This has almost uni. formly been the result of attempts to civilize and educate young savages. And why? On what principle can it be accounted for? I reply, that the work was begun too late. The impressions made upon early childhood cannot be effaced. You may take the young savage, and make a palace his home, and he is like the young ass's colt; he longs for the forest, for the lawlessness of savage life. This principle is deep, uniform, unalterable.- Rev. John Todd.
LADY. Why wouldst thou leave me, oh! gentle child ?
Boy. “Oh! green is the turf where my brothers play,
LADY. “ Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell;
Boy. “My mother sings at the twilight's fall,
Lady. Thy mother hath gone from her cares to rest,
Thou wouldst meet her footsteps, my boy, no more
Boy. “Is my mother gone from her home away?
LADY. “ Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now,
Boy. “ Are they gone, all gone from the hill ?
THE DEATH OF KEELDAR.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
Percy or Percival Rede of Trochend, in Redesdale, Northumberland, is celebrated in tradition as a huntsman and a soldier. He was upon two occasions singularly unfortunate; once, when an arrow, which he had discharged at a deer, killed his celebrated dog Keeldar; and again, when, being on a hunting party, he was betrayed into the hands of a clan called Crossar, by whom he was murdered. Mr Cooper's painting of the first of these incidents suggested the following stanzas.
UP rose the sun o'er moor and mead,
Career'd along the lea;
They were a jovial three !
On Cheviot's* rueful day;
* See ballad of Chevy Chase, which relates perhaps a totally fictitious event, unless it may he founded on the battle of Otterbourne (1388), the only one mentioned in history in which a Douglas fell fighting with a Percy.
Keeldar was matchless in his speed; Than Tarras, ne'er was stauncher steed; A peerless archer Percy Rede:
And right dear friends were they! The chase engross'd their joys and woes, Together at the dawn they rose, Together shared the noon's repose,
By fountain or by stream;
Still hunted in his dream.
The signs the hunters know ;-
The archer strings his bow,
That e'er it left the string!
Has drench'd the grey-goose wing.
The noble hound-he dies, he dies ; Death, death, has glazed his fixed eyes, Stiff on the bloody heath he lies,
Without a groan or quiver,
But Keeldar sleeps for ever!
Nor what is death—but still
Some mystic tale of ill.
In speechless grief recline;