Imágenes de página
PDF
ePub

He begg'd his bread from door to door,
And tuned to please a peasant's ear
The harp a king had loved to hear !

W. Scott.
1771-1832.

THE NATIVE LAND.
BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
“ This is my own, my native land !”
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he had turn'd
From wandering on a foreign strand !
If such there breathe, go, mark him well :
For him no minstrel-raptures swell ;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ;,
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.
O Caledonia ! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child !
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires ! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to thy rugged strand !

W. SCOTT
1771-1832.

THE MODERN FRENCH READER: Senior Course

Edis ibe Pes. P. H. EETEST BEETTE, B.D. of Chi HStan, Ludo: Professor Ch Cassel, LLD., of Univers: C ase Lod ; and THÉODORE KABCEEP LL B., of the Royal V-Start Academy, Wswich, former and present Eramider in the Care sity of Loon, and for the Civil Service of India. Con iTo. pp. 470, cloth, 36. Ed.

CHARLOTTE CORDAY. A Tragedy. By F. POXSAPD.

Falited, with English Notes and Notice on Ponsard, br Prof. C. CASSAL, LL.D., of University College, London. Crown Sro, pp. 130, cloth, 28. 6d.

DIANE. A Drama in Verse. By ÉMILE AUGIER Edited.

with English Notes and Notice on Augier, by Th. KARCHER, LLD. Crown 8vo, pp. 160, cloth, 23. 6d.

LE VOYAGE À DIEPPE. A Comedy in Prose. Br

WAPFLARD and FULGENCE. Edited, with English Notes, by the Rev. P. H. ERNEST BRETTE, B.D., of Christ's Hospital and the University of London. Crown 8vo, pp. 104, cloth. 1867. 2s.6d.

MOLIERE. A Drama in Prose. By GEORGE SAND. Edited,

with English Notes and Notice on George Sand, by THÉODORE KARCHER, LL.B., of the Royal Military Academy and the University of London. 12mo, pp. xx. and 170, cloth. 1868. 3s. 6d.

LES ARISTOCRATIES. A Comedy in Verse. By

ETIENNE ARAGO. Edited, with English Notes and Notice on
Étienne Arago, by the Rev. P. H. ERNEST BRETTE, B.D., Head
Master of the French School, Christ's Hospital, Examiner in the
University of London. Second Edition. 12mo, pp. xvi. and 228,
cloth. 1868. 48.

LES FAUX BONSHOMMES. A Comedy. By THÉODORE

BARRIÈRE and ERNEST CAPENDU. Edited, with English Notes and
Notice on Barrière, by Prof. CHARLES CASSAL, LL.D., of University
College, London. 12mo, pp. xvi. and 304, cloth, 4s.

L'HONNEUR ET L'ARGENT. A Comedy. By Fran

gors PONSARD. Edited, with English Notes and Memoir of Ponhard, by Professor Charles CASSAL, LL.D., of University College,

London. Crown 8vo, cloth, pp. xvi. and 172, 3s. 6d. THÉÂTRE FRANÇAIS MODERNE. With Introduction

and Notes. By Professors KARCHER, Cassal, and BRETTE. Vol. I., pp. 420, crown 8vo, 6s.

More precious than silver and gold,

Or all that this earth can afford.
But the sound of the church-going belli

These valleys and rocks never heard ;
Never sigh'd at the sound of a knell,

Or smiled when a Sabbath appeard.

Ye winds ! that have made me your sport,

Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send

A wish or a thought after me?
Oh! tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.

W. CowPER.
1731-1800.

MY BIRTH-DAY. “My birth-day”—what a different sound

That word had in my youthful ears !
And how, each time the day comes round,

Less and less white its mark appears !
When first our scanty years are told,
It seems like pastime to grow old ;
And, as Youth counts the shining links,

That Time around him binds so fast,
Pleased with the task, he little thinks

How hard that chain will press at last. Vain was the man, and false as vain,

Who said—“ Were he ordain'd to run His long career of life again,

He would do all that he had done."

1 The church-going bell, La cloche qui appelle à l'église.

Ah, 'tis not thus the voice that dwells

In sober birth-days? speaks to me;
Far otherwise-of time it tells,

Lavish'd unwisely, carelessly-
Of counsel mock’d-of talents, made

Haply for high and pure designs,
But oft, like Israel's incense, laid

Upon unholy, earthly shrines 2– All this it tells, and, could I trace

Th’imperfect picture o'er again,
With power to add, retouch, efface

The lights and shades, the joy and pain,
How little of the past would stay ?
How quickly all should melt away!

Th. MOORE.

1780–1852.

[ocr errors]

A PSALM OF LIFE.

“Be up and doing.”3 Tell me not in mournful numbers,

“Life is but an empty dream !” For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest !

And the grave is not its goal ; . “ Dust thou art, to dust returnest,”

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow 4

Finds us farther than to-day.5

1 The voice that dwells in sober birth-days, La voix de l'âge mûr.—2 Upon unholy, earthly shrines, Sur des autels profanes et mondains. -_-3 Be up and doing, Debout et à l'œuvre. -4 Each to-morrow, Chaque lendemain.-5 Than to-day, Que la veille. i Dumb, driven cattle, Le bétail muet qu'on pousse devant soi.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums are beating

Funeral marches to the grave,

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !1

Be like heroes in the strife !

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwreck'd brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labour and to wait.

LONGFELLOW.

ANTONY'S FUNERAL ORATION OVER CÆSAR'S

BODY. FRIENDS, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears ! I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Cæsar! Noble Brutus

« AnteriorContinuar »