LESSON LIV.

RESIGNATION.

MILTON.

THE following sublime and affecting production was but lately discovered among the remains of the great epic poet, and is published in the recent Oxford edition of Milton's Works:

1.

2.

· 3.

4.

5.

6.

I AM old and blind!

Men point at me as smitten by God's frown;
Afflicted and deserted of my kind;

Yet I am not cast down.

I am weak, yet strong;

I murmur not that I no longer see;

Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong,
Father supreme! to Thee.

O, merciful one!

When men are farthest then thou art most near,
When friends pass by me, and my weakness shun,
Thy chariot I hear.

Thy glorious face

Is leaning toward me; and its holy light
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling place-
And there is no more night.

On

my bended knee

I recognize thy purpose clearly shown;

My vision thou hast dimm'd, that I

Thyself- Thyself alone.

I have nought to fear;

may see

This darkness is the shadow of thy wing;

Beneath it I am almost sacred; here

Can come no evil thing.

Treinbling where foot of mortal ne'er hath been,
Wrapped in the radiance of thy sinless land,
eye hath never seen.

Which

LESSON LV.

PRAYER TO LIGHT.

MRS DE KROYIT.

1. On, holy light! thou art old as the look of God, and eternal as his breath. The angels were rocked in thy lap, and their infant smiles were brightened by thee. Creation is in thy memory; by thy torch the throne of Jehovah was set, and thy hand burnished the myriad stars that glitter in his. crown. Worlds, new from His omnipotent hand, were sprinkled with beams from thy baptismal font. At thy golden urn, pale Luna comes to fill her silver horn, and Saturn bathes his sky-girt rings; Jupiter lights his waning moons, and Venus dips her queenly robes anew.

2. Thy fountains are shoreless as the ocean of heavenly love; thy center is everywhere, and thy boundary no power has marked. Thy beams gild the illimitable fields of space, and gladden the farthest verge of the universe. The glories of the seventh heaven are open to thy gaze, and thy glare is felt in the woes of lowest Erebus. The sealed books of heaven by thee are read, and thine eye, like the Infinite, can pierce the dark vail of the future, and glance backward through the mystic cycles of the past.

3. Thy touch gives the lily its whiteness, the rose its tint, and thy kindling ray makes the diamond's light; thy beams are mighty as the power that binds the spheres; thou canst change the sleety winds to soothing zephyrs, and thou canst

melt the icy mountains of the poles to gentle rains and dewy vapors. The granite rocks of the hills are upturned by thee, volcanoes burst, islands sink and rise, rivers roll, and oceans swell at thy look of command.

4. And oh, thou monarch of the skies, bend now thy bow of millioned arrows, and piece, if thou canst, this darkness that thrice twelve moons has bound me. Burst now thine emerald gates, O morn, and let thy dawning come! My eyes roll in vain to find thee, and my soul is weary of this interminable gloom. My heart is but the tomb of blighted hopes, and all the misery of feelings unemployed, has settled on me. I am misfortune's child, and sorrow long since marked me for her

own.

LESSON LVI.

SCENE IN A MAD-HOUSE.

LEWIS.

1. STAY, jailer, stay, and hear my wo!
She is not mad who kneels to thee;
For what I'm now, too well I know,
And what I was, and what should be.

I'll rave no more in proud despair;
My language shall be mild, though sad;
But yet I firmly, truly swear,

I am not mad, I am not mad!

2. My tyrant husband forged the tale,
Which chains me in this dismal cell;
My fate unknown, my friends bewail-
O! jailer, haste that fate to tell :
Oh! haste my father's heart to cheer.

His heart at once 'twill grieve and glad

To know, though kept a captive here,
I am not mad, I am not mad.

3. He smiles in scorn, and turns the key;
He quits the grate; I knelt in vain ;
His glimmering lamp, still, still I see-
'Tis gone! and all is gloom again.
Cold, bitter cold! no warmth no light!
Life, all thy comforts once I had

;

Yet here I'm chained, this freezing night,

Although not mad; no, no, not mad.

4. 'Tis sure some dream, some vision vain;

What! I, the child of rank and wealth,--
Am I the wretch who clanks this chain,
Bereft of freedom, friends, and health?
Ah! while I dwell on blessings fled,
Which never more my heart must glad,
How aches my heart, how burns my
head;

But 'tis not mad; no 'tis not mad.

5. Hast thou, my child, forgot ere this,

A mother's face, a mother's tongue?
She'll ne'er forget your parting kiss,
Nor round her neck how fast you clung;

Nor how with her you sued to stay;

Nor how that suit your sire forbade ;
Nor how I'll drive such thoughts away;
They'll make me mad, they'll make me mad

6. His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled!

His mild blue eyes, how bright they shone!

None ever bore a lovelier child:

And art thou now forever gone ?
And must I never see thee more,

My pretty, pretty, pretty lad!

I will be free! unbar the door!

I am not mad; I am not mad.

7. Oh, hark! what mean those yells and cries:
His chain some furious madman breaks;
He comes, I see his glaring eyes;

Now, now, my dungeon grate he shakes.
Help! help! he's gone!-oh, fearful wo.
Such screams to hear, such sights to see!
My brain, my brain,— I know, I know,
I am not mad, but soon shall be

8. Yes, soon;

- for, lo! you, while I speak,
Mark how you demon's eyeballs glare!
He sees me; now, with dreadful shriek,
He whirls a serpent high in air.
Horror! the reptile strikes his tooth

Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad;

Aye, laugh, ye fiends! I feel the truth;

Your task is done - I'm mad! I'm mad!

LESSON LVII.

EXECUTION OF MADAM ROLAND.

LAMARTINE

1. THE examination and trial of Madame Roland were but a repetition of those charges against the Girorde, with which every harangue of the Jacobin party was filled. She was re proached with being the wife of Roland. and the friend of his accomplices. With a proud look of triumph, Madame Ro land admitted her guilt in both instances; spoke with tender ness of her husband, with respect of her friends, and with dig uified modesty of herself; but, borne down by the clamors of