LESSON LXXXIII.

NOTE.-The following spirited poetry portrays the undying patriotism which fired the hearts of the men of the American Revolution.

THE DYING PATRIOT'S BEQUEST.

C. M. BROSNAN.

1. I've seen the clouds of crimson war above my country lower,
And, in my log-ribbed cabin, felt oppression's ruthless power,
When England poured her hireling sons o'er mountain-top and plain,
And inward felt my soul on fire to cancel that foul stain.

2. It braved proud Britain's marshaled hosts, her glittering pomp and pride,
Nor feared to quench youth's patriot flame in life's red-gushing tide:
One deep impassioned pulse alone each wild emotion swayed;
Columbia called her free-born sons to lend her hope and aid.

3. Then pealed the trumpet's thrilling note upon the muttering gale,
And upward rose the cry, "To ARMS!" from mountain side and vale;
While echo from his giant lungs, prolonged the martial cry,
Till loudly shouted woods and hills, and laughed a hoarse reply.

4. His grateful task the plowman quit, and, waving high in air

His helmet, plume, and whetted steel, far-flashing, bright, and bare,
Into the whirling vortex plunged, where drunken conflict reeled,
And warriors, locked in death's embrace, lay quivering on the field.

5. Scarce eighteen summers then I'd seen, my soul yet throbbed for fame,
The patriot's love had blazed therein, to one fierce, quenchless flame;
I grasped my country's stainless flag, and mingled with the foe,
Where battle's blood-red billows clash, and tides of slaughter flow.

6. (sl.) But now I am a feeble man,-they tell me I am old;
What means this faint and languid pulse? My limbs grow stiff and cold;
The world is fading from my view,-my sight is dim and weak,
And ah! some power is pressing here, that will not let me speak.

7. ( Away, my son! bring me that flag, and spread it out on high,
Before the leaden sleep of death shall seal my swimming eye;
Oh! shroud me in its sacred folds, its holy stripes and stars,
No meeter pall is there to hide an old man's wounds and scars.

8. It floated o'er the gory field where brave Montgomery fell,
While pale-faced carnage ghastly scowled,-I marked his aspect well,-
Till vultures poised on balanced wing, in air suspended stood,
And snuffed, upon the streaming gales, their feast of human blood.

9. 'Tis well! and now, my darling boy, my last bequest to thee,
Is that thou wouldst defend this flag,—this banner of the free;
If, unavenged, a foeman dare to blot its glorious sun,
Thy father's blessing shall not rest on his degenerate son.

10. Thus spoke an aged, patriot chief, and one brief moment smiled, Then clasped with parent tenderness, that fondly cherished child; Around him wrapped his country's flag, ere his proud soul retired, And thus beneath its mantling folds the patriot chief expired.

LESSON LXXXIV.

THE AMERICAN FLAG.

J. C. PRAY, JR.

1 HAIL! Standard of the free and bold!
I love thy waving gorgeousness,
Which seems, like changing skies, to fold
Thy stars which, fixed, both guide and bless!
They are the emblems true of States,

Linked fast in league well known to fame,—
Whose souls thy glory emulates,—

Whose sons shall never read thy shame,
Till, as a Pleiad, gone from Heaven's own blue,
A star be lost from thy holy hue.

2. Float ever, Flag, as when at first,

Our fathers bore thee through the air,
And pledged their lives, while on them burst
Thy glorious stars in splendor there,—

.Ay, pledged their lives and liberty,

While thou their canopy shouldst stand,
To guard, protect, and honor thee,—
The emblem of our rising land:

Ay!-float as when each soldier in his tent,
Dreamed that his flag was the firmament..

3. Thou lofty ensign.of the free,-
May every land thy glory know;
And every freeman cling to thee,

While breezes 'mid thy folds shall flow.

May hand, and heart, and hopes, and zeal,
Be ever by thy form inspired;

And should it shake the common weal,
May every soul by thee be fired,--
Each patriot heart discern amid thy form,
A beacon-star in the battle-storm.

LESSON LXXXV.

EXPLANATORY NOTE.-1. The IG' NIS FAT' U US is a meteoric light which appears at night, over marshy grounds, supposed to be phosphoric matter emitted from decaying animals or vegetables. It disappears as one approaches the spot where it was seen. The words, literally, mean a harmless or flashy fire.

MEMORY AND HOPE.-AN APOLOGUE.

JAMES K. PAULDING.

1. HOPE is the leading-string of youth; Memory is the staff of old age; yet, for a long time, they were at variance, and scarcely ever associated, together. Memory was almost always grave, nay, sad and melancholy. She delighted in silence and repose, amid rocks and waterfalls,—and, whenever she raised her eyes from the ground, it was to look back over her shoulder. Hope was a smiling, dancing, rosy boy, with sparkling eyes, whom it was impossible to look upon, without being inspired by his gay and sprightly buoyance,

2. Wherever he went, he diffused, around him gladness and joy, the eyes of the young sparkled brighter than ever at his approach,―-old age, as it cast its dim glance at the blue vault of heaven, seemed inspired with new vigor,-the flowers looked more gay,-the grass, more green,—the birds sung more cheerily,--and all nature seemed to sympathize in his gladness. Memory was of mortal birth; but Hope partook of immortality.

3. Once they chanced to meet, and Memory reproached Hope with being a deceiver,—she charged him with deluding mankind by visionary, impracticable schemes, and exciting expectations that only led to disappointment and regret,—with

being the ignis fatuus' of youth, and the scourge of old age. But Hope cast back upon her the charge of deceit, and maintained that the pictures of the past were as much exaggerated by Memory as were the anticipations of Hope. He declared that she looked at objects at a great distance in the past,―he, in the future,—and that this distance magnified every thing. “Let us make the circuit of the world,” said he, “and try the experiment." Memory consented, reluctantly, and they went their way together.

4. The first person they met was a school-boy, lounging lazily along, and stopping every moment to gaze around, as if unwilling to proceed on his way;-by-and-by he sat down and burst into tears. "Whither so fast, my good lad?" asked Hope, cheeringly. "I am going to school," replied the lad, "to study, when I would a thousand times rather be at play, -and to sit on a bench with a book in my hand, while I long to be sporting in the fields. But never mind, I shall be a man soon, and then I shall be as free as the air." Saying this, he skipped away merrily, in the hope of soon being a man. "It is thus you play upon the inexperience of youth," said Memory, reproachfully.

5. Passing onward, they met a beautiful girl, pacing, in a slow and melancholy manner, behind a party of gay young men and maidens who walked arm in arm with each other, and were flirting and exchanging all those harmless courtesies which nature prompts on such occasions. They were all gayly dressed in silks and ribbons; but the little girl had on a simple frock, a homely apron, and clumsy thick-soled shoes. "Why do you not join yonder group," asked Hope, "and partake in the gayety, my pretty little girl?" "Alas!" replied she "they take no notice of me. They call me a child. But I shall soon be a woman, and then I shall be so happy!" Inspired by this hope, she quickened her pace, and was soon seen dancing merrily with the rest.

6. In this manner they wended their way, from nation to nation, and clime to clime, until they had made the circuit of the universe. Wherever they came, they found the human

race, repining at the present, and looking forward to a riper age for happiness. All anticipated some future good,-and Memory had scarce any thing to do but cast looks of reproach at her companion. "Let us return home," said she, "to that delightful spot where I first drew my breath. I long to repose among its beautiful bowers,-to listen to the brooks that murmured a thousand times sweeter,-and to the echoes that Were softer than any I have since heard. Ah! there is nothing on earth so enchanting as the scenes of my earliest youth."

7. Hope indulged himself in a sly, significant smile, and they proceeded on their way home. As they journeyed but slowly, many years elapsed ere they reached the spot whence they had departed. It so happened one day that they met an old man, bending under the weight of years, and walking with trembling steps, leaning on his staff. Memory at once recognized him as the youth they had seen going to school, in their first outset in the tour of the world. As they came nearer, the old man reclined on his staff, and, looking at Hope, who being immortal, was still a blithe young boy, sighed as if his heart was breaking.

8. "What aileth thee, old man?" asked the you uth. "What aileth!" he replied, in a feeble, faltering voice," what should ail me but old age? I have outlived my health and strength, -I have survived all that was near and dear, I have seen all I loved, or that loved me,—and now I stand like an old tree, withering alone in the world, without roots, without branches, and without verdure. I have only just enough sensation to know that I am miserable, and the recollection of the happiness of youthful days, when, careless and full of blissful anticipations, I was a laughing merry boy, only adds to the miseries I now endure."

9. "Behold!" cried Hope, "the deception practiced by thyself! Dost thou remember the boy we met when we first set out together, who was weeping on his way to school, and sighing to be a man?"

10. A little onward they came to a miserable cottage, at the