The twilight dew hath vailed the sun, And hope's sweet dreamings shaded; EXERCISE CLXXV. RALPH WALDO EMERSON was born in Boston, on the 25th of May, 1803, Though passable, as a pupil, he does not appear ever to have been solicitous about distinction in his school and college career. In 1826, after having taught school for some four or five years, he was licensed to preach in the Unitarian Church; which connection, however, in 1832, was dissolved at his own request. Since that time, his life has been devoted mainly to literature. He is the author of many brilliant lectures, many admirable essays, and many beautiful poems. "As a writer," says one who seems to us to have reached a full appreciation of his character, "he is distinguished for a singular union of poetic imagination with practical acuteness. His vision takes a wide sweep in the realms of the ideal; but is no less firm and penetrating in the sphere of facts. His common sense shrewdness is vivified by a pervasive wit. He seldom indulges in the expression of sentiment, and, in his nature, emotion seems to be less the product of the heart than of the brain. His style is in the nicest harmony with the character of his thought. It is condensed almost to abruptness. His merits, as a writer, consist rather in the choice of words than in the connection of sentences. But the great characteristic of his intellect is the perception and sentiment of beauty." Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, Stops his horse, and lists with delight, Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine hight; Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. All are needed by each one- I thought the sparrow's note from Heaven, I brought him home, in his nest, at even, He sings the song, but it pleases not now; For I did not bring him home the river and sky; He sang to my ear-they sang to my eye. II. The delicate shells lay on the shore; With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar III. The lover watched his graceful maid, As 'mid the virgin train she strayed; Nor knew her beauty's best attire Was woven still by that snow-white choir; Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage; gay enchantment was undone A gentle wife, but fairy none. Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat I leave it behind with the games of youth." As I spoke, beneath my feet The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, I inhaled the violet's breath; Around me stood the oaks and firs; Again I saw, again I heard, The rolling river, the morning bird; EXERCISE CLXXVI. HOMER, the great father of epic poetry, was born, according to the best accounts, in Smyrna, and flourished about nine hundred years before Christ. His chief works are the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey." The former has for its subject the wrath of Achilles, a great Grecian warrior, who, in retaliation for a wrong done him by the Commander-in-chief of the Grecian forces, withdraws from the contest, and thereby brings the most calamitous consequences upon the armies of his countrymen. The latter is an account, full of strange incidents, of the return of Ulysses, another Grecian hero, to Ithaca, his native place, after the overthrow of Troy. The "Iliad" is allowed to be the superior work; but both of them bear the impress of a master hand, such, indeed, as seldom appears in the lapse of centuries. HECTOR, the chief hero of the Trojans, in their ten years' war with the Greeks, was the eldest son of Priam, king of Troy. The scene which we have given below, is justly regarded as one of the most delicate and beautiful in the whole Iliad. He has just left the field of contest for a brief space, at a moment when the onset of the Greeks seems almost irresistible, in order to request the queen, his mother, to pray to the goddess Minerva for assistance. This done, he seeks a momentary interview with his wife, the fair and virtuous Andromache, whose touching appeal is, perhaps, without a parallel in tender, natural solicitude. PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. I. POPE'S HOMER'S ILIAD. Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou run? For sure such courage length of life denies, II. No parent now remains my grief to share, Then raised a mountain where his bones were burned III. By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell;— In one sad day beheld the gates of hell; While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed, * Achilles (a kil' lēs), greatest of all the Grecian warriors. † Hypoplacia (hy po plā' cia) is but another name for Thebe (the' be) in Asia Minor, the birthplace of Andromache. IV. Yet, while my Hector still survives, I see V. The chief replied: That post shall be my care, Not that alone, but all the works of war. How would the sons of Troy, in arms renowned, And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground, Should Hector basely quit the field of fame! VI. Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates; * Agamemnon (ag a mem' non) was the commander-in-chief of th, Greek forces. † Tydides (ty dr' dēs), or Di' o mede, son of Tydeus (ty, duce), and Ajax, were two Grecian heroes, next in courage to Achilles. |