Intelligently listened; and gazed far back Did all that mind assisted most could do; EXERCISE LIX. THE DEAD MOTHER. ANCH. Father. Touch not thy mother, boy. Thou canst not wake her. Child. Why, father? She still wakens at this hour. C. And what is dead? If she be dead, why, then, 'tis only sleeping; Her heart is cold.' F. C. If she would waken, she would soon be warm. F. No, not like her: The fire might warm you, or thick clothes; but her- If I could wake her, C. F. Come, my child. C. Once, when I sat upon her lap, I felt A beating at her side; and then she said It was her heart that beat, and bade me feel My own heart yet; but hers I cannot feel. F. Child, child, you drive me mad. Come hence, I say. C. Nay, father, be not angry; let me stay here Till my mother wakens. F. I have told you, Your mother cannot wake-not in this world; But in another she will wake for us. When we have slept like her, then we shall see her. F. No, unhappy child; That last, long sleep. Thy father soon shall sleep it; None will regard thee; thou wilt soon forget That thou hadst natural ties,—an orphan, lone, And women still more wicked. C. Why do you look so terribly upon me ? F. Father, father, Hurt thee, darling? no! Has sorrow's violence so much of anger, That it should fright my boy? Come, dearest, come. C. You are not angry, F. then? Too well I love you. C. All you have said I can not now remember, EXERCISE LX. CHARLES G. EASTMAN, an American poet and journalist, was born in Fryeburg, Maine, in the year 1816. He has been a large contributor to various periodicals, and his poems have gained him no small reputation. A DIRGE is a hymn for the dead, or a funeral song. The word is most probably a contraction from DIRIGE, which is the first word in the line Dirige, Domine Deus! (Direct us, O Lord God!) which forms part of an old Latin funeral service. DIRGE. CHARLES G. EASTMAN I. Softly! She is lying She is dying Of a broken heart. II. Whisper! Whisper! Life is growing III. Gently! She is sleeping; She has breathed her last. Gently! While you are weeping, EXERCISE LXI. BELSHAZZAR is the name given in the Book of Daniel to the last king of the Chaldees, during whose reign Babylon was taken by the Medes and Persians. Out of the striking account of his impious feast, found in the fifth chapter of that Book, Procter has made the following spirited piece. For a Note on Procter, better known as Barry Cornwall, see Exercise XXXVIII. OVERTHROW OF BELSHAZZAR. I. BARRY CORNWALL Belshazzar is king! Belshazzar is lord! And a thousand dark nobles all bend at his board;- And the beauty that maddens the passions of earth; Till the vast roofs ring, "All praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!" II. 'Bring forth," cries the monarch, "the vessels of gold, Bring forth; and we'll drink, while the trumpets are blown, And the cymbals ring,— "Praise, praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!" III. Now, what cometh ?—look, look !—Without menace, or call, "Chaldeans! magicians! the letters expound !" They are read;-and Belshazzar is dead on the ground! On a conqueror's wing; And a Mede's on the throne of Belshazzar the king! EXERCISE LXII. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES was born in Cambridge, Mass., August 29th, 1809. In 1832 he went to Europe to pursue the study of medicine, where he spent some years in attendance on the great hospitals. In 1838 he was appointed Professor of Anatomy and Physiology in Dartmouth College, and, in 1847, he was chosen to fill the same office in the medical college of Harvard University. His chief distinction, however, is that of an author. his productions, both in prose and poetry, having given him a very elevated rank in the world of letters. As a writer of songs and lyric poems, he has few superiors. His papers, first published in "The Atlantic Monthly" under the title "THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE," furnish some very rare and racy reading: mingling, in pleasant proportions, wit, humor, pathos, fancy, fact, keen discernment, large information, and great felicity of style and diction. The following excerpts are from several of these papers. EXCERPTS (Ex, out, and CERPT, plucked) are pieces plucked out of their proper places in an author's work, and presented separately; extracts. EXCERPTS FROM THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. I. I really believe some people save their bright thoughts as being too precious for conversation. What do you think an admiring friend said the other day to one that was talking good things, good enough to print? "Why," said he, "you are wasting merchantable literature, a cash article, at the rate as nearly as I can tell, of fifty dollars an hour!" The talker took him to the window, and asked him to look out and tell him what he saw. Nothing but a very dusty street," he said. "and a man driving a sprinkling-machine through it." |