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And yet it is, I feel,

Of this dull sickness at my heart, afraid;
And in my eyes the death-sparks flash and fade;
And something seems to steal
Over my bosom like a frozen hand,-
Binding its pulses with an icy band.

And this is death! But why
Feel I this wild recoil? It can not be
Th' immortal spirit shuddereth to be free:
Would it not leap to fly

Like a chained eaglet at its parent's call?
I fear, I fear,-that this poor life is all!

Yet thus to pass away!—

To live but for a hope that mocks at last,-
To agonize, to strive, to watch, to fast,
To waste the light of day,

Night's better beauty, feeling, fancy, thought,
All that we have and are,-for this,-for naught

Grant me another year,

God of my spirit!-but a day,-to win
Something to satisfy this thirst within!
I would know something here!
Break for me but one seal that is unbroken!
Speak for me but one word that is unspoken!

Vain,-vain!-my brain is turning

With a swift dizziness, and my heart grows sick,
And these hot temple-throbs come fast and thick,
And I am freezing,-burning,-
Dying! O God! if I might only live!
My phial- -Ha! it thrills me, I revive.

Aye, were not man to die,

He were too mighty for this narrow sphere! Had he but time to brood on knowledge here,— Could he but train his eye,

Might he but wait the mystic word and hour,-
Only his Maker would transcend his power!
Earth has no mineral strange,

Th' illimitable air no hidden wings,-
Water no quality in covert springs,

And fire no power to change,

Seasons no mystery, and stars no spell,
Which the unwasting soul might not compel.

Oh, but for time to track
The upper stars into the pathless sky,-
To see th' invisible spirits, eye to eye,-
To hurl the lightning back,-

To tread unhurt the sea's dim-lighted halls,—
To chase day's chariot to the horizon-walls,-

And more, much more,- -for now

The life-sealed fountains of my nature move,—
To nurse and purify this human love,—
To clear the godlike brow

Of weakness and mistrust, and bow it down
Worthy and beautiful, to the much-loved one,--

This were indeed to feel

The soul-thirst slaken at the living stream,—
To live, O God! that life is but a dream!
And death- -Aha! I reel,-

Dim,-dim,-I faint,-darkness comes o'er my eye,--
Cover me! save me!- -God of heaven! I die!

'T was morning, and the old man lay alone.
No friend had closed his eyelids, and his lips,
Open and ashy pale, th' expression wore
Of his death-struggle. His long silvery hair
Lay on his hollow temples thin and wild,
His frame was wasted, and his features wan
And haggard as with want, and in his palm
His nails were driven deep, as if the throe
Of the last agony had wrung him sore.

The storm was raging still. The shutter swung
Creaking as harshly in the fitful wind,
And all without went on,-as aye it will,
Sunshine or tempest, reckless that a heart
Is breaking, or has broken, in its change.

The fire beneath the crucible was out;
The vessels of his mystic art lay round,
Useless and cold as the ambitious hand
That fashioned them, and the small rod,
Familiar to his touch for threescore years,

Lay on th' alembic's rim, as if it still
Might vex the elements at its master's will.

And thus had passed from its unequal frame
A soul of fire, a sun-bent eagle stricken
From his high soaring down,-—an instrument
Broken with its own compass. O, how poor
Seems the rich gift of genius, when it lies,
Like the adventurous bird that hath out-flown
His strength upon the sea, ambition-wrecked,-
A thing the thrush might pity, as she sits
Brooding in quiet on her lowly nest.

Ex CCVIII-THE MAIN TRUCK, OR A LEAP FOR LIFE.

OLD Ironsides at anchor lay
In the harbor of Mahon;

A dead calm rested on the bay,—
The waves to sleep had gone;
When little Hal, the captain's son,
A lad both brave and good,

In sport, up shroud and rigging ran,
And on the main truck stood!

A shudder shot through every vein,-
All eyes were turned on high!
There stood the boy, with dizzy brain,
Between the sea and sky;

No hold had he above, below;

Alone he stood in air:

To that far height none dared to go;—
No aid could reach him there.

We gazed, but not a man could speak
With horror all aghast,

In groups, with pallid brow and cheek,
We watched the quivering mast.
The atmosphere grew thick and hot,
And of a lurid hue ;-

As riveted unto the spot,

Stood officers and crew.

MORRIS.

The father caine on deck :--he gasped,
"Oh God! thy will be done!"
Then suddenly a rifle grasped,

And aimed it at his son:

"Jump, far out, boy, into the wave!
Jump, or I fire!" he said;

"That only chance your life can save!
Jump, jump, boy !"— He obeyed.

He sunk,-he rose,-he lived, he moved,-
And for the ship struck out;
On board, we hailed the lad beloved,
With many a manly shout.

His father drew, in silent joy,

Those wet arms round his neck

Then folded to his heart his boy,
And fainted on the deck.

Ex. CCIX.-FUSS AT FIRES.

ANON.

IT having been announced to me, my young friends, that you were about forming a fire-company, I have called you together to give you such directions as long experience in a first quality engine company qualifies me to communicate. The moment you hear an alarm of fire, scream like a pair of panthers. Run any way, except the right way,-for the furthest way round is the nearest way to the fire. If you happen to run on the top of a wood-pile, so much the better; you can then get a good view of the neighborhood. If a light breaks on your view, "break" for it immediately;. but be sure you do n't jump into a bow window. Keep yelling, all the time; and, if you can't make night hideous enough yourself, kick all the dogs you come across, and set them yelling, too; 't will help amazingly. A brace of cats dragged up stairs by the tail would be a "powerful auxiliary." When you reach the scene of the fire, do all you can to convert it into a scene of destruction. Tear down all the fences in the vicinity. If it be a chimney on fire, throw salt down it; or, if you can't do that, perhaps the best plan would be to jerk off the pump-handle and pound it down. Don't forget to yell, all the while, as it will have a prodigious effect in fright

ening off the fire. The louder the better, of course; and the more ladies in the vicinity, the greater necessity for "doing it brown." Should the roof begin to smoke, get to work in good earnest, and make any man "smoke" that interrupts you. If it is summer, and there are fruit-trees in the lot, cut them down, to prevent the fire from roasting the apples. Don't forget to yell! Should the stable be threatened, carry out the cow-chains. Never mind the horse,-he'll be alive and kicking; and if his legs don't do their duty, let them pay for the roast. Ditto as to the hogs;-let them save their own bacon, or smoke for it. When the roof begins to burn, get a crow-bar and pry away the stone steps; or, if the steps be of wood, procure an axe and chop them up. Next, cut away the wash-boards in the basement story; and, if that don't stop the flames, let the chair-boards on the first floor share a similar fate. Should the "devouring element" still pursue the " even tenor of its way," you had better ascend to the second story. Pitch out the pitchers, and tumble out the tumblers. Yell all the time!

If you find a baby a-bed, fling it into the second story window of the house across the way; but let the kitten carefully down in a work-basket. Then draw out the bureau drawers, and empty their contents out of the back window; telling somebody below to upset the slop-barrel and rain-water hogs head at the same time. Of course, you will attend to the mirror. The further it can be thrown, the more pieces will be made. If any body objects, smash it over his head. Do not, under any circumstances, drop the tongs down from the second story: the fall might break its legs, and render the poor thing a cripple for life. Set it straddle of your shoulders, and carry it down carefully. Pile the bed-clothes carefully on the floor, and throw the crockery out of the window. By the time you will have attended to all these things, the fire will certainly be arrested, or the building be burnt down. In either case, your services will be no longer needed; and, of course, you require no further directions.

Ex. CCX.-RESULTS OF THE HEROISM OF THE PILGRIMS

EVERETT.

METHINKS I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous essel, the May-flower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the

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