5 10 15 And hurried landward far away, 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 pipe of early shepherd dim descried. Crowned with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings, Pipe. A musical instrument (some- The full choir. All the birds. JAMES BEATTIE. 5 10 15 Ponderous. Heavy. Aërial. Airy, in the sky. COMPOSITION.-Paraphrase lines 1-9. LESSON 45. THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF THE old mayor climbed the belfry tower, "Pull, if ye never pulled before, Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he. Play up 'The Brides of Enderby', 5 10 Men say it was a stolen tide; The Lord that sent it He knows all; The message that the bells let fall: By millions crouched on the old sea-wall. 15 20 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 "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, 25 30 Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; Come up, Whitefoot, come up, Lightfoot; 35 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, 40 And lo! the great bell far and wide 55 Was heard in all the country-side That Saturday at eventide. The swanherds where their sedges are And my son's wife, Elizabeth; Then some looked up into the sky, And where the lordly steeple shows. They said, "And why should this thing be? They ring the tune of Enderby! "For evil news from Mablethorpe, Of pirate galleys warping down; They have not spared to wake the town: 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, (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath |