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Oh! never let us lightly fling

A barb of woe to wound another ;
Oh! never let us haste to bring

The cup of sorrow to a brother.
Each has the power to wound; but he

Who wounds that he may witness pain,
Has spurn'd the law of charity,

Which ne'er inflicts a pang in vain.
'Tis godlike to awaken joy,

Or sorrow's influence to subdue-
But not to wound, nor to annoy,

Is part of virtue's lesson too.
Peace, wing'd in fairer worlds above,

Shall lend her dawn to brighten this;
Then all man's labour shall be love,

And all his aim a brother's bliss.

The house is a prison, the school-room's a cell;
Leave study and books, for the upland and dell;
Lay aside the dull poring, quit home and quit care;
Sally forth! sally forth! let us breathe the fresh air!
The sky dons[i] its holiday mantle of blue;
The sun sips his morning refreshment of dew;

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Shakes, joyously laughing, his tresses of light, And here and there turns his eye piercing and

bright; Then jocund mounts up on his glorious car, With smiles to the morn—for he means to go farWhile the clouds that had newly paid court at his

levee, (1) Spread sail to the breeze, and glide off in a bevy, [2] Lofty trees, tufted hedge-rows, and sparkling

between, Dewy meadows enamelled [3] in gold and in green, With king-cups and daisies, that all the year please, Sprays, petals, (4) and leaflets that nod in the breeze, With carpets, and garlands, and wreaths, deck the

way, And tempt the blithe spirit still onward to stray, Itself its own home;- far away! far away! The butterflies flutter in pairs round the bower, The humble bee sings in each bell of each flower ; The bee hums o'er heather [5] and breeze-wooing [6]

hill, And forgets in the sunshine his toil and his skill ; The birds carol gladly!- the lark mounts on high; The swallows on wing make their tune to the eye, And as birds of good omen, that summer loves well, Ever wheeling, weave ever some magical spell,

[1] Levee--a crowd of inferiors waiting on or visiting some great personage.

(2) Bevy-properly, a flock of birds-a company.
[8] Enamelled-inlaid with various colours.
[4] Petalsthe leaves of blossoms.
(6) Heather-heath.

[8] Breeze-wooing hill-a hill which as it were courts or invites the wind to stay near it-high and exposed.

The hunt is abroad :-hark! the horn sounds its

note, And seems to invite us to regions remote. The horse in the meadow is stirred by the sound, And, neighing impatient, o'erleaps the low mound; Then proud in his speed o'er the champaign [1] he

bounds, To the whoop of the huntsmen, and tongue of the

hounds. Then stay not within, for on such a blest day We can never quit home, while with Nature we stray, far away! far away!

J. H. Green.


The boy stood on the burning deck,

Whence all but he had fled ;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck

Shone round him o'er the dead;
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,

As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,

A proud though child-like form!
The flames rolled on—he would not go
· Without his father's word ;
That father, faint in death below,

His voice no longer heard.

[1] Champaign-open or flat country.

[2] Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the admiral of the Orient, remained at his post in the battle of the Nile, after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned; and perished in the explosion of the vessel when the flames had reached the powder.

He called aloud " Say, father, say,

“If yet my task is done!” He knew not that the chieftain lay

Unconscious of his son.
“Speak, father !” once again he cried,

If I may yet be gone!
And”—but the booming(1) shots replied,

And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair;
And look'd from that lone post of death

In still, yet brave despair!
He shouted yet once more aloud,

“My father! must I stay?”. While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,

The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapp'd the ship in splendour wild,

They caught the flag on high,
And stream'd above the gallant child,

Like banners in the sky.
Then came a burst of thunder sound

The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds, that far around

With fragments strewed the sea,
With mast and helm and pennon [2] fair,

That well had borne their part-
But the noblest thing that perished there,
Was that young faithful heart.

Mrs. Hemans.

[1] Booming-rushing with great noise and tumult. [2] Pennon-a small flag or banner.


We watch for the light of the morn to break

And colour the eastern sky,
With its blended hues of saffron and lake,
Then say to each other, “Awake! awake!
For our winter's honey is all to make,

And our bread for a long supply.”

And off we hie to the hill and dell,

To the field, to the meadow and bower:
We love in the columbine's horn to dwell,
To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,
To search for the balm in its fragrant cell,

The mint and the rosemary flower.

We seek the bloom of the eglantine,

Of the painted thistle and brier ;
And follow the steps of the wandering vine,
Whether it trail on the earth supine, [1]
Or round the aspiring tree top twine,

And aim at a state still higher.

While each, on the good of her sister bent,

Is busy, and cares for all, We hope for an evening of heart's content In the winter of life, without lament That summer is gone, or its hours misspent, And the harvest is past recall.

Miss Gould. [1] Supine-lying along on the ground.


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