LESSON XXXII. The Common Lot.-MONTGOMERY. ONCE, in the flight of ages past, There lived a man :-and who was he?Mortal, howe'er thy lot be cast, That man resembled thee. Unknown the region of his birth; The land in which he died unknown. His name has perished from the earth; This truth survives alone : That joy and grief, and hope and fear, The bounding pulse, the languid limb, He suffered, but his pangs are o'er; his friends are now no more; And foes, his foes are dead. He loved, but whom he loved, the grave Hath lost in its unconscious womb: Oh! she was fair; but nought could save Her beauty from the tomb. He saw whatever thou hast seen; He was whatever thou hast been: He is what thou shalt be. The rolling seasons, day and night, Sun, moon and stars, the earth and main, Erewhile his portion, life and light, To him exist in vain. The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye No vestige where they flew. The annals of the human race, Of him afford no other trace Than this,-THERE LIVED A MAN. LESSON XXXIII. The Deserted Wife.-J. G. PERCIVAL HE comes not. I have watched the moon go down, But yet he comes not. Once it was not so. He thinks not how these bitter tears do flow, The while he holds his riot in that town. Yet he will come and chide, and I shall weep; And he will wake my infant from its sleep, To blend its feeble wailing with my tears. Oh! how I love a mother's watch to keep Over those sleeping eyes,-that smile, which cheers My heart, though sunk in sorrow fixed and deep! I had a husband once, who loved me. Now He ever wears a frown upon his brow. But yet I cannot hate. Oh! there were hours, When I could hang forever on his eye, And Time, who stole with silent swiftness by, Strowed, as he hurried on, his path with flowers. I loved him then-he loved me too. My heart Venomed and barbed, and waste, upon the vile, I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, Until the penitent should weep, and say, How injured and how faithful I had been. LESSON XXXIV. The Last Man.—CAMPBELL. ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, Before this mortal shall assume I saw a vision in my sleep, That gave my spirit strength to sweep I saw the last of human mould, The Sun's eye had a sickly glare, Some had expired in fight,-the brands In plague and famine some: Earth's cities had no sound nor tread; And ships were drifting, with the dead, To shores where all was dumb. B Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, That shook the sere leaves from the wood, Saying, "We're twins in death, proud Sun: 'Tis Mercy bids thee go; For thou, ten thousand thousand years, That shall no longer flow. "What though beneath thee man put forth And arts that made fire, flood and earth, Yet mourn not I thy parted sway, For all those trophied arts And triumphs, that beneath thee sprang, "Go, let Oblivion's curtain fall Life's tragedy again: Its piteous pageants bring not back, Nor waken flesh, upon the rack Of pain anew to writhe; Stretched in Disease's shapes abhorred, Or mown in battle by the sword, "E'en I am weary, in yon skies My lips, that speak thy dirge of death Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath To see thou shalt not boast: The eclipse of nature spreads my pall,- "This spirit shall return to Him "Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up, To drink this last and bitter cup The dark'ning universe defy Or shake his trust in God." LESSON XXXV. Government of the Temper.-MRS. CHAPONE. THE principal virtues or vices of a woman, must be of a private and domestic kind. Within the circle of her own family and dependents lies her sphere of action; the scene of almost all those tasks and trials, which must determine her character and her fate, here and hereafter. Reflect, for a moment, how much the happiness of her husband, children and servants, must depend on her temper, and you will see |