SECTION XXII. Last Parting of the three Indian Friends.-MOORE. WHEN shall we three meet again? Oft shall death and sorrow reign, Tho' to distant lands we hie, And, in fancy's wide domain, When those burnished locks are gray, When the dream of life is fled, There may we three meet again. SECTION XXIII. The Sailor-Boy's Dream.-ANONYMOUS. In slumbers of midnight', the sailor-boy lay'; His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind'; He dreamed of his home', of his dear native bowers', Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide', *åre. The jessamine'.. clambers in flowers o'er the thatch', And the voices of loved ones'.. reply to his call'. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight'; With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear'. The heart of the sleeper'.. beats high in his breast'; Like mountains the billows tremendously swell'; In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss'— Oh', sailor-bôy'! sailor-bôy'! never again' Shall home, love', or kindred', thy wishes repay': Unblessed and unhonoured', down deep in the main', Full many a score fathom', thy frame shall decay'. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee', Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge'; On beds of green sea-flowers'.. thy limbs shall be laid'; Days', years', and ages', shall circle away', And still the vast waters'.. above thee shall roll': Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye' Oh', sailor-bôy'! sailor-bôy'! peace to thy soul'. SECTION XXIV. Hamlet's Soliloquy on Death.-SHAKSPEARE. To be'- -or not to be-that is the question'; For who could bear the whips and scorns of time', The insolence of office', and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes', With a bare bodkin'? Who would fardels* bear', Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought'; SECTION XXV, Cato's Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul.-ADDISON. It must be so-Plato', thou reasonest well'— Else', whence this pleasing hope', this fond desire', This longing after immortality'? Or', whence this secret dread' and inward horrour', Of falling into nought'? Why shrinks the soul 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us', 'Tis heav'n itself that points out a hereafter', * Fardel, oppressive burden, And intimates eternity to man'. Eternity'!-Thou pleasing', dreadful thought"! Through what new scenes and changes must we pass"!— Through all her works',) he must delight in virtue'; But when? or where'? This world was made for Cesar'. [Laying his hand on his sword. Thus I am doubly armed'. My death', and life', The wreck of matter', and the crush of worlds'. SECTION XXVI, The Dying Christian to his Soul.-POPE. VITAL spark of heavenly flame', Cease', fond nature', cease thy strife', Hark! they whisper': angels say', Drowns my spirit', draws my breath'? The world recedes': it disappears!! Lend', lend your wings! I mount"! I fly"! CHAPTER V. PROMISCUOUS PIECES. SECTION I. The Alhambra by Moonlight.-IRVING. I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first taking possession of it': a few evenings have produced a thorough change in the scene and in my feelings'. The moon', which then was invisible', has gradually gained upon the nights', and now rolls in full splendour above the towers', pouring a flood of tempered light into every court and hall'. The garden beneath my window, is gently lighted up'; the orange and citron trees'..are tipped with silver'; the fountain".. sparkles in the moonbeams'; and even the blush of the rose'.. is faintly visible'. I have sat for hours at my window', inhaling the sweetness of the garden', and musing on the chequered features of those whose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant memorials around'. Sometimes I have issued forth at midnight'. . when every thing was quiet', and have wandered over the whole building'. Who can do justice to a moonlight night in such a climate', and in such a place! The temperature of an Andalusian midnight in summer', is perfectly ethereal'. We seem lifted up into a purer atmosphere'; there is a serenity of soul', a buoyancy of spirits', an elasticity of frame', that render mere existence'.. enjoyment'. The effect of moonlight', too', on the Alhambra', has something like enchantment. Every rent and chasm of time', every mouldering tint and weather-stain', disappears'; the marble resumes its original whiteness'; the long colonnades brighten in the moonbeams'; the halls are illuminated with a softened radiance', until the whole edifice reminds one of the enchanted palace of an Arabian tale'. At such a time', I have ascended to the little pavilion', called the queen's toilette', to enjoy its varied and extensive prospect'. To the right', the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada', would gleam', Pôz-zesh'ůn. Föùn'tin-not, föùn'tn. not, unse. En-tshânt'mènt-not, munt. Fè'tshårz. Eg-zist'ênse— Rå'dé-ânse-not, unse. |