Has God, thou fool! work'd solely for thy good, Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food? Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, For him as kindly spreads the flowery lawn. Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings? Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat? Loves of his own and raptures swell the note. The bounding steed you pompously bestride Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride. Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain? The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. Thine the full harvest of the golden year? Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer.

The hog, that plows not, nor obeys thy call,
Lives on the labors of this lord of all.

Know, Nature's children all divide her care;
The fur that warms a monarch warm'd a bear.
While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!"
"See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose:
And just as short of reason he must fall
Who thinks all made for one, not one for all.

For forms of government let fools contest;
Whate'er is best administer'd is best:
For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
In faith and hope the world will disagree,
But all mankind's concern is charity:

All must be false that thwart this one great end,
And all of God that bless mankind or mend.

Honor and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honor lies. Fortune in men has some small difference made One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade; The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd. The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. "What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl ?” I'll tell you, friend, a wise man and a fool. You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunello.

Go! if your ancient but ignoble blood

Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood,
Go! and pretend your family is young,
Nor own your fathers have been fools so long.
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.

Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,
Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
Like Socrates-that man is great indeed.
A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;
An honest man's the noblest work of God.

Know then this truth (enough for man to know): "Virtue alone is happiness below."

Never elated while one man's oppress'd; Never dejected while another's bless'd ..

See the sole bliss heaven could on all bestow! Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know : Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind, The bad must miss, the good untaught will find: Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, But looks through Nature up to Nature's God; Pursues that chain which links the immense design, Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine: Sees that no being any bliss can know, But touches some above and some below; Learns from this union of the rising whole The first, last purpose of the human soul; And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, All end, in love of God and love of man.

For him alone hope leads from goal to goal, And opens still and opens on his soul, Till lengthened on to faith, and unconfined, It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind. He sees why nature plants in man alone Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown: Wise is her present; she connects in this His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss; At once his own bright prospect to be blest, And strongest motive to assist the rest. Self love thus pushed to social, to divine, Gives thee to make thy neighbor's blessing thine. Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree,

And height of bliss but height of charity.

ex pa' ti ate (shi), range at large.

ser' aph, an angelic being.

or dained', determined by law.

THE DUKE'S PLOT.

JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY.

The duke dined as usual at noon. While he was at dinner he received a letter, was observed to turn pale on reading it, and to conceal it hastily in a muff which he wore on his left arm. The repast

finished, he ordered his horse, and, placing himself at the head of his bodyguard and some troopers, numbering, in all, three hundred mounted men, rode out of the palace yard toward the Kipdorp gate.

This portal opened on the road where his troops were stationed. The town was very quiet, the streets almost deserted; for it was one o'clock, the universal dinner hour, and all suspicion had been disarmed by the energetic protestations of the duke.

The guard at the gate looked listlessly upon the cavalcade as it approached, but as soon as Anjou had crossed the first drawbridge, he rose in his stirrups and waved his hand. "There is your city, my lads," said he to the troopers behind him; "go and take possession of it."

At the same time he set spurs to his horse, and galloped off toward the camp. Instantly afterward a gentleman of his suite affected to have broken his leg through the plunging of his horse-a circumstance by which he had been violently pressed against the wall as he entered the gate. The commanding officer at the guard-house stepped kindly forward to render him assistance, and his reward was a desperate thrust from the Frenchman's rapier. As he wore a steel cuirass, he fortunately escaped with a slight wound.

The expression "broken leg" was the watchword, for at one and the same instant the troopers and guardsmen of Anjou set upon the burgher-watch at the gate and killed every man. A sufficient force was left to protect the entrance thus easily mastered, while the rest of the Frenchmen entered the town at full gallop, shrieking, "The city is taken! The city is taken! Long live the Duke of Anjou!" They were followed by their comrades from the camp outside, who now poured into the town at the preconcerted signal, at least six hundred cavalry and three thousand musketeers, all perfectly appointed, entering Antwerp at once.

From the Kipdorp gate two main arteries led quite through the heart of the city toward the town-house and the river beyond. Along these thoroughfares the French soldiers advanced at a rapid pace, the cavalry clattering furiously in the van, shouting, “The city is taken! The city is taken!"

The burghers, coming to door and window to look for the cause of all this disturbance, were saluted with volleys of musketry. They were for a moment astonished, but not appalled, for at first they believed it to be an accidental tumult. Observing, however, that the soldiers were dispersing into dwellings and warehouses, particularly into the shops of the goldsmiths and lapidaries, the citizens remembered the dark suspicions which had been so rife, and many now recalled to mind that distinguished French officers had, during the last few days, been carefully examining the treasures of the jewelers, under the pretext of purchasing, but, as it now appeared, with the intent to rob intelligently.