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Which close the pèstilence | are broke,
And crowded cities | wail its stròke ;-
Come in Consumption's ghastly form,
The earthquake shock, the ocean stòrm :-
Come when the heart beats high and warm,
With banquet-song, and dánce, and wine,—
[xo-] And thou art TERRIBLE: the tear,

The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear'
Of agony, are thine.

[1] But to the HERO,-when his sword.
Has won the battle for the frée,—
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
And in its hollow tones | are heard

The thanks of MILLIONS | yet to bè. [x.-] Bozzáris! with the storied brave

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Greece nurtured in her glóry's time,
Rèst thee:-there is no prouder grave,
Even in her own próud clìme.

We tell thy doom without a sigh;
For thou art FREEDOM'S now, and FÀME's,-
One of the FEW, the IMMORTAL names,
That were not born to die.

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LESSON LIII.-WATERLOO.-Byron.
[Marked as LESSON LII.]

There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital | had gather'd then | Her beauty and her chívalry; and bright <The lamps shone | o'er fair women | and brave mèn. A thousand hearts | beat happily, and when [x] << Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

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Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again; <And all went merry as a marriage-bèll:

[x] But нÙSH! HARK!-a deep sound | strikes like a rising knèll!

[a. q.]

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Did ye not HEAR it? [-] Nò; 't was but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street;

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On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till mòrn, when Youth' and Pleasure' meet,
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet-

[x.v] But HARK!—that heavy sound | breaks in once mòre, As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

< And nearer, clèarer, dèadlier than before! fuu] ARM!-ARM!-[1-] it is,-it is, the cannon's open[a. q.] ing roar!

[ ]

Within a windowed niche of that high hall ||
Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear '
That sound the first | amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with death's prophetic èar ;
And when they smiled because he deem'd it néar,
His heart more truly knew that peal too well |||
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,
< And roused the vengeance | blood alone would
quèll:

< He rush'd into the field, and, fòremost fighting, fèll. [x, u] Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fró, [a. q.] And gathering tears, and tremblings of distréss, And cheeks all pále, which | but an hour ago | Blush'd' at the praise of their own lòveliness ; And there were sudden pàrtings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs | [.] Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess # If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, [b..] Since upon night so sweet, such awful mòrn | could

rise!

[lov] And there was mounting in hot hàste; the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering cár, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war: .-] And the deep thunder, peal on peal afàr, And néar, the beat of the alarming drùm | Roused up the soldier ere the morning-stàr; [x] While thronged the citizens | with terror dùmb, Or whispering with white lips [°] "The FòE! They COME, they COME!"

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[a. q.]

[1] And wild and high | the "Cámeron's gathering"

ròse!

[pu. t.] The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills |

Have heard and heard, too, have her Saxon foes, [.] How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills! < Their mountain-pípe, so fill the mountainèers |

< With the fierce native daring || which instils | < The stirring memory of a thousand years; [II. v] And Evan's, Donald's fame II rings in each clans

man's ears!

[x.-] And Ardennes I waves above them her green leaves,

[bm.s.]

Dewy, with nature's tear-drops, as they páss,
Grieving,-if aught inanimate e'er grieves,-
Over the unreturning brave,-[..] alás!

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass ||
Which now I beneath them, but abòve shall grow
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass | <

Of living valor | [u] rolling on the foe,

< [u] And burning with high hópe, [x 。. =] shall moulder · cold and lòw. > I

[ ] [b]

Last noon | beheld them full of lusty life,
Last éve | in beauty's circle proudly gày,

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< The midnight | brought the signal sound of strife The mórn l the marshalling in àrms,-the day | < Battle's magnificently stern array!

[x.-] The thunder-clouds | close d'er it, which when rént The earth is cover'd thick | with other clay, [..] Which her own clay shall cover, héap'd and pènt, Rider and horse,-friend, fòe,-in one red burial < I blènt.

=

LESSON LIV.—PRUSSIAN BATTLE HYMN.-Translated from

[x.-]

[x

Körner.t

[Marked as LESSON LII.]

FATHER of earth and heaven! I call Thy name! Round me the smoke and shout' of battle | ròll; [-] My eyes are dazzled with the rustling flame; Father, sustain, an untried soldier's soul.

On

Or life, or death, whatever be the goal |

That crowns or closes round this struggling hour,
Thou knowest, if ever | from my spirit stole
One deeper prayer, 't was that no cloud might
lower

my young fame!-[1-] Oh! HEAR! God of eter-
nal power!

*Pronounced Arden.

†The o in this word has no correspondent sound in English: it is nearly, as the French au.

[-]

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Gód! Thou art mèrciful.-The wintry storm,
The cloud that pours the thunder from its
womb,

But show the sterner grandeur of Thy form;
The lightnings, glancing through the midnight
glóom,

To Faith's raised eye as calm, as lovely come,
As splendors of the autumnal evening star,
As roses shaken by the breeze's plùme,
When like cool incense | comes the dewy áir,
And on the golden wáve, the sùn-set | búrns afàr.
[1.-] Gód! Thou art mighty!-At thy footstool bound,
Lie gazing to thée, Chánce, and Life, and Death;
Nor in the Angel-circle | flaming round,

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Nor in the million worlds that blaze beneath,
Is one that can withstand Thy wrath's hot breath.
Wò in Thy frówn-in Thy smile victory!

Hear my lást pràyer !—I ask no mòrtal wreath; Let but these eyes my rescued country see, [] Then take my spirit, All Omnipotent, to THEE. [lov] Now for the FIGHT!-now for the CANNON-PEAL!— FORWARD!-through blood, and toil, and cloud, and fire!

GLORIOUS the SHOUT, the SHOCK, the CRASH of STEEL,
The VOLLEY'S ROLL, the ROCKET'S BLASTING SPIRE !
They shake,-like broken wàves | their squares
retire.

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ÒN them HUSSARS!-Now give them rein' and

HÈEL!

Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire :EARTH cries for BLOOD,-in THUNDER on them wheel!

[1.-] This hour to Europe's fate I shall set the triumph

seal!

LESSON LV.-BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.-Mrs. Hemans.

[This, and whatever other lessons the teacher thinks proper to select, may be marked, by the reader, as LESSON LII.]

The celebrated Spanish champion, Bernardo del Carpio, having made many ineffectual efforts to procure the release of his father, the Count Saldana, who had been imprisoned by King Alfonso of Asturias, almost from the time of Bernardo's birth, at last took up arms in despair. The war which he maintained, proved so destructive, that the men of the land gathered round the king, and united in demanding

Saldana's liberty. Alfonso accordingly offered. Bernardo immediate possession of his father's person, in exchange for his castle at Carpio. Bernardo, without hesitation, gave up his strong hold, with all his captives, and being assured that his father was then on his way from prison, rode forth with the king to meet him. "And when he saw his father approaching, he exclaimed," says the ancient chronicle, "Oh! God, is the Count Saldana indeed coming?" "Look where he is," replied the cruel king, "and now go and greet him, whom you have so long desired to see."-The remainder of the story will be found related in the ballad. The chronicles and romances leave us nearly in the dark, as to Bernardo's future history after this event, with the exception of the final interview in which he renounced his allegiance to the king.

The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,
And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire;
"I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train,
I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord !-Oh! break my father's chain!”
"Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day:
Mount thy good horse; and thou and I will meet him on his way."-
Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed,
And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed.
And lo! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band,
With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land;
—“Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he,
The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see.

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His dark eye flashed,-his proud breast heaved,-his cheek's hue

came and went,

He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there dismounting bent,

A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took-
What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook?

That hand was cold,—a frozen thing,—it dropped from his like lead,—
He looked up to the face above,-the face was of the dead.
A plume waved o'er the noble brow, the brow was fixed and white;-
He met at last his father's eyes,—but in them was no sight!

Up from the ground he sprang and gazed;—but who could paint tha gaze?

They hushed their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze :-
They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood;
For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood.

"Father!" at length he murmured low, and wept like childhood then-
Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!
He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown,—
He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down.

Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow, 'No more there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for now,

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