And scattered woe where Heaven had planted joy?
Or are they yet all paradise, unfallen
And uncorrupt? existence one long joy,
Without disease upon the frame, or sin
Upon the heart, or weariness of life;
Hope never quenched, and age unknown,

And death unfeared; while fresh and fadeless youth
Glows in the light from God's near throne of love?

Open your lips, ye wonderful and fair! Speak, speak! the mysteries of those living worlds Unfold! No language? Everlasting light, And everlasting silence?-Yet the eye May read and understand. The hand of God Has written legibly what man may know THE GLORY OF THE MAKER. There it shines, Ineffable, unchangeable; and man,

Bound to the surface of this pygmy globe,

May know and ask no more.
In other days,
When death shall give th' encumbered spirit wings,
Its range shall be extended; it shall roam,

Perchance, amongst those vast, mysterious spheres,
Shall pass from orb to orb, and dwell in each,
Familiar with its children- learn their laws,
And share their state, and study and adore
The infinite varieties of bliss

And beauty by the hand of Power divine
Lavished on all its works. Eternity
Shall thus roll on with ever-fresh delight;
No pause of pleasure or improvement; world
On world still opening to th' instructed mind
An unexhausted universe, and time
But adding to its glories; while the soul,
Advancing ever to the Source of light
And all perfection, lives, adores, and reigns,
In cloudless knowledge, purity, and bliss.

LESSON LXXXV.

INFLECTIONS OF THE VOICE.

RULE IV. When two questions are connected by the disjunctive or, the first usually has the rising, and the second the falling inflection.

EXAMPLES.

Did he say goodness, or wisdom?

Shall we in your person crówn the author of the public calamities, or shall we destroy him?

(Enter HUBERT and two Attendants.)

Hubert. HEAT me these irons hot; and look thou stand

Within the arras: when I strike my foot

Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth,

And bind the boy, which you shall find with me,
Fast to the chair. Be heedful: hence, and watch.

First Attendant. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.

Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you look to 't. (Exeunt Attendants.)

Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.

(Enter ARTHUR.)

Arthur. Good-morrow, Hubert.

Hub. Good-morrow, little prince.

Arth. As little prince (having so great a title

To be more prince) as may be. You are sad.

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.

Arth. Mercy on me!

Methinks nobody should be sad but I:
Yet I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,

Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him.

Is it my fault that I were Geoffrey's son?
No, indeed, is't not; and I would to Heaven
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:
Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. (Aside.)

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale to-day: In sooth, I would you were a little sick;

That I might sit all night, and watch with you.

I warrant I love you more than you do me.

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom. Read here, young Arthur. (Showing a paper.) How now: foolish rheum! (Aside.)

Turning dispiteous torture out of door!

I must be brief; lest resolution drop

Out at mine eyes, in tender, womanish tears.

Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ?

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect:

Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?
Hub. Young boy, I must.

Arth. And will you?

Hub. And I will.

Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but

ache,

I knit my handkerchief about your brows,

(The best I had, a princess wrought it me,)

And I did never ask it you again;

And with my hand at midnight held your head,
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time;

Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief?
Or, What good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's son would have lain still,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you;
But you at your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning: do, an if you will;

If Heaven be pleased that you must use me ill,

Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,

So much as frown on you?

Hub. I have sworn to do it;

And with hot irons must I burn them out.

Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age would do it:
The iron of itself, though heat red-hot,

Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears,
And quench its fiery indignation

Even in the matter of mine innocence:

Nay, after that, consume away in rust,

But for containing fire to harm mine eye.

Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron?
An if an angel should have come to me
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believed no tongue but Hubert's.
Hub. Come forth. (Stamps.)

(Reënter Attendants, with cord, irons, &c.)

Do as I bid you.

Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. Arth. Alas! what need you be so boisterous-rough?

I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.

For Heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound!
Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb.

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,

1

Nor look upon the iron angrily,

Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.

Hub. Go stand within; let me alone with him.

First Attend. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. (Exeunt Attendants.)

Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my friend:

He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart.

Let him come back, that his compassion may

Give life to yours.

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.

Arth. Is there no remedy?

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.

Arth. O Heaven! that there were but a mote in yours,

A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,

Any annoyance in that precious sense!

Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there,

Your vile intent. must needs seem horrible.

Hub. Is this your promise? Go to, hold your tongue.

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues

Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes:

Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert!
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,

So I may keep mine eyes. O, spare mine eyes,
Though to no use, but still to look on you!
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold,

And would not harm me.

Hub. I can heat it, boy.

Arth. No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with griefBeing create for comfort, to be used

In undeserved extremes. See else yourself;

There is no malice in this burning coal;

The breath of Heaven hath blown its spirit out,

And strewed repentant ashes on its head.

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush,