loaded with calumny, and not to be suffered to resent or repel it? No! God forbid!

8. If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the concerns and cares of those who are dear to them in this transitory life, O ever dear and venerated shade of my departed father, look down with scrutiny on the conduct of your suffering son, and see if I have even for a moment deviated from those principles of morality and patriotism which it was your care to instill into my youthful mind, and for an adherence to which I am now to offer up my life!

9. My Lords, you are all impatient for the sacrifice. The blood which you seek is not congealed by the artificial terrors which surround your victim; it circulates warmly and unruffled through the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you are bent to destroy, for purposes so grievous that they cry to Heaven!

10. Be ye patient; I have but a few words more to say. I am going to my silent grave; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished; my race is run; the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. I have but one request to ask at my departure from this world-it is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph; for, as no one who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country shall take her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done.

Robert Emmet.

FOR PREPARATION.-I. Robert Emmet, born in Cork in 1780, an ardent friend of Irish independence, at the age of twenty-three years placed himself at the head of a party of insurgents in Dublin, who killed the Chief Justice, Lord Kilwarden, before they were dispersed by the military. Emmet was subsequently taken prisoner, having lost his opportunity to escape from the country by imprudently returning to Dublin to bid adieu to the daughter of the famous barrister, Curran. He was tried before Lord Norbury, convicted of high treason, and executed the next day. In reply to the usual question asked of the prisoner after the verdict has been rendered in such cases, Emmet made an eloquent and impassioned speech, vindicating his course, of which more than one half is given in the above extract-omission being made of those portions in which he exculpates himself from the charge of being an emissary of France.

II. Al-lěģed' (al-lějd'), sēize, guilt (gilt), rès'-eued, wräth'-fụl (räth ́-), eon-sign' (kon-sin'), ad-judged', măr'tyred.

III. "After being adjudged guilty by your tribunal "-why is "your" printed in italics? What thought did Emmet convey by emphasizing the word?

IV. Obloquy, epitaph, blasphemy, emancipation, calumny, catastrophe, mitigation, vindicate, chimerical, attaint, pliant minion, complacency.

V. "Perfidious government" (3)—what government is referred to? Lord Norbury, the Chief Justice, interrupted Emmet frequently during the course of this speech, and many passages are directed in reply to the judge's remarks. For example, the appeal to the throne of Heaven (4) is a reply to the Lord Justice's interruption with: "The weak and wicked enthusiasts who feel as you feel, are unequal to the accomplishment of their wild designs." Again the appeal to the spirits of the illustrious dead (8) was in reply to: "Your principles are treasonable and subversive of all government; your language is unbecoming a person in your situation. Your father, Dr. Emmet, would never have countenanced such sentiments."

XLIV. ADIEU TO MY NATIVE LAND

1. Adieu! adieu! my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue;

The night winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea mew.

Yon sun that sets upon the sea,
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native land-good night!

2. A few short hours, and he will rise
To give the morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother earth.
Deserted is my own good hall,

Its hearth is desolate;

Wild weeds are gathering on the wall;
My dog howls at the gate.

3. Come hither, come hither, my little page;
Why dost thou weep and wail?
Or dost thou dread the billows' rage,
Or tremble at the gale?

But dash the tear-drop from thine eye!
Our ship is swift and strong;

Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly

More merrily along.

4. "Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high, I fear not wave nor wind;

Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I

Am sorrowful in mind;

For I have from my father gone,

A mother whom I love,

And have no friend save these alone,
But thee, and One above.

5. "My father blessed me fervently,
Yet did not much complain;

But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come back again."

Enough, enough, my little lad!
Such tears become thine eye;
If I thy guileless bosom had,
My own would not be dry.

6. Come hither, hither, my stanch yeoman:
Why dost thou look so pale?

Or dost thou dread a French foeman,
Or shiver at the gale?

"Deem'st thou I tremble for my life?
Sir Childe, I'm not so weak;
But thinking on an absent wife
Will blanch a faithful cheek.

7. "My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall,
Along the bordering lake,

And when they on their father call,
What answer shall she make?"
Enough, enough, my yeoman good:
Thy grief let none gainsay;
But I, who am of lighter mood,
Will laugh to flee away.

8. And now I'm in the world alone,
Upon the wide, wide sea;

But why should I for others groan,
When none will sigh for me?
Perchance my dog will whine in vain,
Till fed by stranger hands;
But long ere I come back again

He'd tear me where he stands.

9. With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go,
Athwart the foaming brine;

Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,
So not again to mine.

Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves!
And when you fail my sight,
Welcome, ye deserts and ye caves!

My native land, good night!

Lord Byron.

FOR PREPARATION.-I. From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," Canto I., xiii. Sir Childe takes his harp at sunset as he sails away from England. Contrast the patriotism of The Burial of Sir John Moore (Fourth Reader) with the tone of this in stanza 9.

II. A-dieū' (-dū'), shriēks (shreeks), heärth (härth), fal'-eon (faw'kn), e-noŭgh' (-nŭf), yeō'-man, fōe'-man, grief, läugh (läf).

III. Meaning or effect of est in fleetest ;-of st in dost;-m in whom ;of the change of ou in thou to ee in thee. "One above "-why capital? Explain "he'd." Whose words are denoted by the marks "" in stanzas 4, 5, 6, and 7?

IV. Meaning of or in "or dost thou dread" (3)—(whether). Explain sea mew, main, mother earth, fervently, guileless, athwart, foaming brine.

V. "Follow in his flight" (1)—which way is he sailing then? "My dog howls," etc.-why? Does gone rhyme with alone (stanza 4, perfectly? What do you think of the use of you and ye (9) together in the same address? What has been the character of the man who (9) leaves his native land with such feelings? Note the confession in the last two lines of 5.

XLV. THE BATTLE OF THE ANTS.

1. One day when I went out to my wood pile, or rather my pile of stumps, I observed two large ants, the one red, the other much larger, nearly half an inch long, and black, fiercely contending with one another. Having once got hold, they never let go, but struggled and wrestled and rolled on the chips incessantly.

2. Looking farther, I was surprised to find that the chips were covered with such combatants; that it was not a duellum, but a bellum—a war between two races of