waves rolling on the furthest shore before they were called to their reward; and then left the world, hand in hand, exulting, as they rose, in the success of their labors. LESSON XII. THE AMERICAN EAGLE.-THOMSON. 1. Bird of the heavens! whose matchless eye Around thy nest in tempests speak; When thou hast ta'en thy seat alone 2. Bird of the cliffs! thy noble form Might well be thought almost divine; The earliest tints of dawn are known, The monarch mount his gorgeous 8. Bird of Columbia!' well art thou throne. With unblenched front, and noble brow, Like thee, majestic bird! like thee She stands in unbought majesty, That mounts aloft, nor looks below, 4 The admiration of the earth, In grand simplicity she stands; Her rising fame new glory brings, To seek the shelter of her wings. 5. My native land! my native land! To her my thoughts will fondly turn; For her the warmest hopes expand, For her the heart with fears will yearn. Oh! may she keep her eye, like thee, Proud eagle of the rocky wild, Fixed on the sun of liberty, By rank, by faction, unbeguiled; When they through toil and danger pressed, And from each lip the caution fell To those who followed, “Guard it well." LESSON XIII. FOREST HYMN.- BRYANT. [See Rule 6, p. 179.] 1 The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,a 2. And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns; thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, Architrave, the lower division of an entablature which rests immediately on the column. Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, The boast of our vain race to change the form That run along the summit of these trees In music; thou art in the cooler breath, That, from the inmost darkness of the place, Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground, The fresh, moist ground, are all instinct with thee. 8. My heart is awed within me, when I think Lo! all grow old and die,- but see, again, Wave not less proudly that their ancestors 4. Then let me often to these solitudes Retire, and in thy presence reassure My feeble virtue. Here its enemies, The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink And tremble, and are still. Oh! God, when thou The swift, dark whirlwind that uproots the woods Its cities, who forgets not, at the sight [The reader may note the questions in this piece, tell what kind they are, and how they should be read. — Rule 1, p. 77.] 1. The study of the history of most other nations, fills the mind with sentiments, not unlike those which the American traveler feels, on entering the venerable and lofty cathedral of some proud, old city of Europe. Its solemn grandeur, its vastness, its obscurity, strike awe to his heart. A thousand recol-lections of romance, and poetry, and legendary story, come thronging in upon him. He is surrounded by the tombs of the mighty dead, rich with the labors of ancient art, and emblazoned with the pomp of heraldry. 2. What names does he read upon them? Those of princes and nobles, who are now remembered only for their vices; and of sovereigns, at whose death no tears were shed, and whose memories lived not an hour in the affections of their people. |