LESSON LXXVI. THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. The following Allegory, when explained to the pupil, as, it is hardly necessary to say, every piece should be before it is spoken, affords a good exercise. The orders must be given distinctly, and the piece must not be hurried. The author is unknown to the Editor. Launch thy bark, mariner ! Christian, God speed thee. Look to the weather bow! What of the night, watchman? No land yet-all's right." Danger may be At an hour when all seems Securest to thee. How gains the leak so fast? Clear out the hold! Hoist up thy merchandise, There let the ingots go! Slacken not sail yet At inlet or island! LESSON LXXVII. EXCELSIOR. The word Excelsior is a Latin comparative, meaning more exalted or more sublime. As used in the following piece by Professor LONGFELLOW, it implies that the youth had a lofty aim, which no difficulty, no danger could repress. Happy the youth, who in ascending the heights of knowledge and virtue, resolves to imitate the mountain youth, and whatever eminence he may attain, is only the more induced to cry Excelsior! EXCELSIOR! The sentiment is exactly that of Paul, when he says, (Philippians III. 13,) "Forgetting those things that are behind, and reaching forth unto those things that are before, I press toward the mark," &c. The shades of night were falling fast, His brow was sad, his eye beneath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright: And from his lips escaped a groan, "Try not the Pass!" the old man said: "Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior! "Oh, stay," the maiden said, "and rest "Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!— Beware the awful avalanche !" 6 This was the peasant's last good night,' At break of day, as heavenward A traveller, by the faithful hound, There, in the twilight cold and gray, And from the sky, serene and far, LESSON LXXVIII. THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP. The following Legend, or Doubtful Narrative, was written by MOORE, the Irish poet. The Dismal Swamp lies on the borders of Virginia and North Carolina, is now crossed by a canal, and is said not to be so gloomy a place as its name implies. They made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true; She has gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where all night long by a fire-fly lamp, She paddles her white canoe. And the white canoe I soon shall see, Off to the Dismal Swamp he speeds, And when on the earth he sunk to sleep, He lay where the deadly vine doth weep And near him the she wolf stirred the brake, Till he, starting, cried, from his dream awake, "O when shall I see the dusky lake, And the white canoe of my dear?" He saw the lake, and a meteor bright Till he hollowed a boat of the birchen bark, The wind was high and the night was dark, But oft in the Indian hunter's camp LESSON LXXIX. KÖRNER'S ADDRESS TO HIS HORSE. CHARLES THEODORE KÖRNER, the author of the poem of which the following is a translation, was a young poet of great promise, who took up arms when Germany was invaded by the French under Napoleon, and who was killed in a skirmish in 1813. His name is pronounced Kerner. My horse, my horse-to arms! to arms! Our foes with threats and loud alarms, |