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To thine own woes be not thy thoughts confin'd;
The skies, the air, the morning breeze's call,
He fails, who pleasure makes his prime pursuit; For pleasure is, of duty done, the fruit.
It is a virtue to improve the mind;
By exercise our skill and courage grows,
Sir Egerton Brydges.
And none can take away ;
C. D. Sillery.
A very little satisfies
An honest and a grateful heart;
 Would-wishes for.
If happiness has not her seat
And centre in the breast,
But never can be blest.
Trust not to each accusing tongue,
As most weak persons do;
106.—THE PLANE TREE AND THE VINE.
FROM THE LATIN.
See yonder blushing vine-tree grow,
And clasp a dry and withered plane; And round its youthful tendrils throw
A shelter from the storm and rain.
That hapless trunk, in former time,
Gave covert from the noon-tide blaze, And taught the infant shoot to climb,
Which now the pious debt repays. Thus for a mother's fostering care,
May'st thou a tender love return; Shield her when life's rude tempests lour,
And wreath with flowers her sacred urn.
107.—BRUCE AND THE SPIDER.
For Scotland's and for freedom's right,
The Bruce his part had play'd, In five successive fields of fight,
Been conquered and dismayed ; Once more against the English host, His band he led, and once more lost
The meed for which he fought; And now from battle, faint and worn, The homeless fugitive forlorn
A hut’s lone shelter sought.
And cheerless was that resting-place
For him who claimed a throne;
The rude rough beams alone;
From couch of eider down!
Of Scotland and her crown.
The sun rose brightly, and its gleam
Fell on that hapless bed, And tinged with light each shapeless beam
Which roofed the lowly shed; When looking up with wistful (2) eye, The Bruce beheld a spider try
 Ween-think or imagine.
His filmy thread to fling
Taught Scotland's future king.
The wary spider threw;
For powerless or untrue
And yet unconquered still;
His courage, strength, and skill.
The hero hailed the sign!
That slender, silken line ;
The lesson well could trace,
 Gossamery-light, flimsy.
The rose is red, the bloom is dead,
The fruit is on the bough..
Amid the clustering vine :
Where honeysuckles twine.
Beneath the glowing sky;
The bee that buzzes by.
Beneath the sheltering wall;
Where leafy shadows fall.
The bean flowers' fragrant maze;
To catch the warmest rays.
Geraniums give to view;
Still wet with morning dew.
The em'rald grass must yield;
There's incense in the field.
In such an hour as this!