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And hurried landward far away,
Crying, "Awake! it is the day".
It said unto the forest, "Shout!
Hang all your leafy banners out!"
It touched the wood-bird's folded wing,
And said, "O bird, awake and sing".
And o'er the farms, "O Chanticleer,
Your clarion blow! the day is near ".
It whispered to the fields of corn,
"Bow down, and hail the coming morn".
It shouted through the belfry tower,
"Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour".
It crossed the churchyard with a sigh,
And said, "Not yet-in quiet lie ".

H. W. LONGFELLOW.

Chanticleer is the name given to Clarion. A clear-sounding horn. the cock in the old story of Not yet. Daybreak will not come "Reynard the Fox". to the dead till the resurrection. COMPOSITION.-Try to imagine what the wind would say to the mists, the mariners, etc., at the close of day.

LESSON 44.

MORNING.

James Beattie (1735-1803), a Scotch schoolmaster, laid the foundation of his fame as a poet by writing prose. In his "Essay on Truth" he strove to repel the attacks of Hume on some Christian beliefs; and by all who held these beliefs the work was applauded as a masterpiece. The volumes of verse which he had already published began to be asked for; and "The Minstrel," which he published next year, was greedily bought. It is now, however, almost forgotten, for, though Beattie had a certain skill in versification, he had no original poetic fire. Yet he has a place in the history of our literature. By his imitation of Gray and of the old ballad writers, by his descriptions of nature, and by his use of new metres, he showed that the age was tending to break away from the artificiality of Pope, and getting ready to welcome the nature and romance of Wordsworth and Scott.

BUT who the melodies of morn can tell?

The wild brook babbling down the mountain-side;
The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell;

The pipe of early shepherd dim descried.
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmurs of the ocean-tide;
The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love,
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark;

Crowned with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings,
The whistling ploughman stalks the field; and, hark!
Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings;
Through rustling corn the hare astonish'd springs;
Now tolls the village clock the drowsy hour;
The partridge bursts away on whirring wings;
Deep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower,
And shrill lark carols loud on her aërial tower.

Pipe. A musical instrument (some-
thing like a flute). In pastoral
poetry the shepherds are always
playing on their pipes.
Dim descried. Not plainly seen.
Lay. Song.

The full choir. All the birds.

JAMES BEATTIE.

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Ponderous. Heavy.
Whirring wings. When partridges
are disturbed they rise from the
ground and fly away, making a
great whirring with their wings.
Sequestered. Lonely.

Aërial. Airy, in the sky.

COMPOSITION.-Paraphrase lines 1-9.

LESSON 45.

THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF
LINCOLNSHIRE. (1571.)

THE old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two by three:

"Pull, if ye never pulled before,

Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he.
"Play up, play up, O Boston bells!
Ply all your changes, all your swells;

Play up 'The Brides of Enderby',

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Men say it was a stolen tide;

The Lord that sent it He knows all;
But in mine ears doth still abide

The message that the bells let fall:
And there was naught of strange, beside
The flight of mews and peewits pied

By millions crouched on the old sea-wall.

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I SAT AND SPUN WITHIN THE DOOR.

I sat and spun within the door,

My thread brake off, I raised mine eyes; The level sun, like ruddy ore,

Lay sinking in the barren skies,

And dark against day's golden death
She moved where Lindis wandereth,
My son's fair wife, Elizabeth.

"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,

Ere the early dews were falling,

Far away. I heard her song.

"Cusha! Cusha!" all along,

Where the reedy Lindis floweth,

Floweth, floweth ;

From the meads where melick groweth

Faintly came her milking-song,

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Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;

Come up, Whitefoot, come up, Lightfoot;

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Quit the stalks of parsley hollow,

Hollow, hollow;

Come up, Jetty, rise and follow,

From the clovers lift your head;

Come up, Whitefoot, come up, Lightfoot,

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And lo! the great bell far and wide 55 Was heard in all the country-side That Saturday at eventide.

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The swanherds where their sedges are
Move on in sunset's golden breath,
The shepherd lads I heard afar,

And my son's wife, Elizabeth;
Till floating o'er the grassy sea
Came down that kindly message free,
The "Brides of Mavis Enderby ".

Then some looked up into the sky,
And all along where Lindis flows
To where the goodly vessels lie,

And where the lordly steeple shows.

They said, "And why should this thing be?
What danger lowers by land or sea?

They ring the tune of Enderby!

"For evil news from Mablethorpe,

Of pirate galleys warping down;
For ships ashore beyond the scorpe,

They have not spared to wake the town:
But while the west is red to see,

And storms be none, and pirates flee,

Why ring 'The Brides of Enderby '?"

I looked without, and lo! my son

Came riding down with might and main; He raised a shout as he drew on,

Till all the welkin rang again,
"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my son's wife, Elizabeth.)

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