Page images
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors]

LESSON LIV.

Weep not for the Dead.-B. B. THATCHER.

OH, lightly, lightly tread

Upon these early ashes, ye that weep

For her that slumbers in the dreamless sleep,
Of this eternal bed?

Hallow her humble tomb

With your kind sorrow, ye that knew her well, And climbed with her youth's brief but brilliant dell, 'Mid sunlight and fair bloom.

Glad voices whispered round,

As from the stars, bewildering harmonies,
And visions of sweet beauty filled the skies.
And the wide vernal ground

With hopes like blossoms shone:

Oh, vainly these shall glow, and vainly wreathe
Verdure for the veiled bosom, that may breathe
No joy-no answering tone.

Yet weep not for the dead

That in the glory of green youth do fall,
Ere frenzied passion or foul sin one thrall
Upon their souls hath spread.

Weep not! They are at rest
From misery, and madness, and all strife,
That makes but night of day, and death of life,
In the grave's peaceful breast:

Nor evermore shall come

To them the breath of envy, nor the rankling eye, Shall follow them, where side by side they lie Defenceless, noiseless, dumb.

Ay-though their memory 's green,

In the fond heart, where love for them was born, With sorrow's silent dews, each eve, each morn, Be freshly kept, unseen

Yet, weep not! They shall soar

As the freed eagle of the skies, that pined,
But pines no more, for his own mountain wind,
And the old ocean-shore.

Rejoice! rejoice! How long

Should the faint spirit wrestle with its clay,
Fluttering in vain for the far cloudless day,
And for the angel's song?

It mounts! It mounts! Oh, spread
The banner of gay victory-and sing

For the enfranchised-and bright garlands bringBut weep not for the dead!"

[blocks in formation]

NIGHT is the time for rest;

How sweet, when labors close,
To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose;

Stretch the tired limbs and lay the head

Upon our own delightful bed!

Night is the time for dreams,

The gay romance of life;

When truth that is, and truth that seems,

Blend in fantastic strife;

Ah! visions less beguiling far,

Than waking dreams by daylight are!

Night is the time for toil;

To plough the classic field,
Intent to find the buried spoil
Its wealthy furrows yield;
Till all is ours that sages taught,
That poets sang, or heroes wrought.

Night is the time to weep;
To wet with unseen tears

Those graves of memory, where sleep
The joys of other years;

Hopes that were angels in their birth,
But perished young, like things of earth!

Night is the time to watch;

Ön ocean's dark expanse, To hail the Pleiades, or catch

The full moon's earliest glance, That brings unto the homesick mind All we have loved and left behind.

Night is the time for care;
Brooding on hours mispent,
To see the spectre of despair
Come to our lonely tent;

Like Brutus midst his slumbering host
Startled by Cæsar's stalworth ghost.

Night is the time to muse;

Then from the eye the soul

Takes flight, and with expanding views
Beyond the starry pole;

Descries, athwart the abyss of night,
The dawn of uncreated light.

Night is the time to pray;

Our Savior oft withdrew
To desert mountains far away,

So will his followers do;

Steal from the throng to haunts untrod,
And hold communion there with God.

Night is the time for death;

When all around is peace,

Calmly to yield the weary breath,
From sin and suffering cease;

Think of Heaven's bliss, and give the sign,
To parting friends:-such death be mine!

11

LESSON LVI.

Escape from a Panther.-COOPER.

ELIZABETH TEMPLE and LOUISA had gained the summit of the mountain, where they left the highway, and pursued their course, under the shade of the stately trees that crowned the eminence. The day was becoming warm; and the girls plunged more deeply into the forest, as they found its invigorating coolness agreeably contrasted to the excessive heat they had experienced in their ascent. The conversation, as if by mutual consent, was entirely changed to the little incidents and scenes of their walk; and every tall pine, and every shrub or flower, called forth some simple expression of admiration.

In this manner they proceeded along the margin of the precipice, catching occasional glimpses of the placid Otsego, or pausing to listen to the rattling of wheels and the sounds of hammers, that rose from the valley, to mingle the signs of men with the scenes of nature, when Elizabeth suddenly startled, and exclaimed-' Listen! there are the cries of a child on this mountain! Is there a clearing near us? or can some little one have strayed from its parents?'

'Such things frequently happen,' returned Louisa. 'Let us follow the sounds; it may be a wanderer, starving on the hill.'

[ocr errors]

Urged by this consideration, the females pursued the low, mournful sounds, that proceeded from the forest, with quick and impatient steps. More than once the ardent Elizabeth was on the point of announcing that she saw the sufferer, when Louisa caught her by the arm, and, pointing behind them, cried—‘Look at the dog!'

The advanced age of Brave had long before deprived him of his activity; and when his companions stopped to view the scenery, or to add to their bouquets, the mastiff would lay his huge frame on the ground, and await their movements, with his eyes closed, and a listlessness in his air that ill accorded with the character of a protector. But when, aroused by this cry from Louisa, Miss Temple turned, she saw the dog with his eyes keenly set on some distant object, his head bent near the ground, and his hair actually rising on his body, either through fright or anger. It was most probably the latter; for he was growling in a low key, and occasionally

showing his teeth, in a manner that would have terrified his mistress, had she not so well known his good qualities.

'Brave!' she said, 'be quiet, Brave! what do you see, fellow?'

At the sound of her voice, the rage of the mastiff, instead of being at all diminished, was very sensibly increased. He stalked in front of the ladies, and seated himself at the feet of his mistress, growling louder than before, and occasionally giving vent to his ire by a short, surly barking. 'What does he see?' said Elizabeth; there must be some animal in sight.'

[ocr errors]

Hearing no answer from her companion, Miss Temple turned her head, and beheld Louisa, standing with her face whitened to the color of death, and her finger pointing upward, with a sort of flickering, convulsed motion. The quick eye of Elizabeth glanced in the direction indicated by her friend, where she saw the fierce front and glaring eyes of a female panther, fixed on them in horrid malignity, and threatening instant destruction.

'Let us fly!' exclaimed Elizabeth, grasping the arm of Louisa, whose form yielded like melting snow, and sunk lifeless to the earth.

There was not a single feeling in the temperament of Elizabeth Temple, that could prompt her to desert a companion in such an extremity; and she fell on her knees, by the side of the inanimate Louisa, tearing from the person of her friend, with an instinctive readiness, such parts of her dress as might obstruct her respiration, and encouraging their only safe-guard, the dog, at the same time, by the sound of her voice.

[ocr errors]

Courage, Brave!' she cried-her own tones beginning to tremble-courage, courage, good Brave!'

A quarter-grown cub, that had hitherto been unseen, now appeared, dropping from the branches of a sapling, that grew under the shade of the beech which held its dam. This ignorant but vicious creature approached near to the dog, imitating the actions and sounds of its parent, but exhibiting a strange mixture of the playfulness of a kitten with the ferocity of its race. Standing on its hind legs, it would rend the bark of a tree with its fore paws, and play all the antics of a cat, for a moment; and then, by lashing itself with its tail, growling, and scratching the earth, it would attempt the manifestations of anger that rendered its parent so terrific. All this time, Brave stood firm and undaunted, his short

« PreviousContinue »