And died here,-ere he found me.

Heaven can tell how far he wandered else!

Upon that

grave I knelt an altered man,

And, rising thence, I fled from Mantua-nor had return'd, But tyrant hunger drove me back again

To thee to thee !-my body to relieve

At cost of my dear soul! I have done thy work,—
Do mine! and sign me that confession straight.
I'm in thy pow'r, and I'll have thee in mine!

Fer. Art thou indeed in earnest ?

St. Pier. Look in my eyes.

Fer. Saint Pierre, perhaps I have underpaid thee?
St Pier. Sign!

Fer. I'll double the amount!

St. Pier. Come, sign!

Fer. Saint Pierre,

Will forty thousand ducats please thee?

St. Pier. There's

The dial, and the sun is shining on it-
The shadow on the very point of twelve-
My case is desperate! Your signature
Of vital moment is unto my peace!
My eye is on the dial! Pass the shadow

The point of noon, the breadth of but a hair
As can my eye discern-and, that unsign'd,
The steel is in thy heart-I speak no more!
Fer. St. Pierre !-Not speak-St. Pierre !
St. Pier. Is it signed?

Fer. (Writing hurriedly.) It is!

St. Pier. Your signet, as a proof I am at large: Now take my station in the closet-No

Attempt at an alarm-In, in I say!

Hold wind we'll make the port.-I thank your highness! [Opens door, speaks aloud, and exit.]

LESSON LXXXV.

Hours of Idleness.—WORDSWORTH.
There is no remedy for time misspent,
No healing for the waste of idlenesss,

Whose very languor is a punishment

Heavier than active souls can feel or guess. O hours of indolence and discontent,

Not now to be redeemed! ye sting not less Because I know this span of life was lent For lofty duties, not for selfishness; Not to be whiled away in aimless dreams, But to improve ourselves and serve mankind, Life and its choicest faculties were given. Man should be ever better than he seems: And shape his acts, and discipline his mind, To walk adorning earth, with hope of heaven!

LESSON LXXXVI.

Fame.-JOANNA BAILLIE.

OH! who shall lightly say that fame
Is nothing but an empty name!

Whilst in that sound there is a charm
The nerves to brace, the heart to warm,
As, thinking of the mighty dead,

The young from slothful couch will start,
And vow, with lifted hands upspread,
Like them to act a noble part?

Oh! who shall lightly say that fame
Is nothing but an empty name!
When, but for that, our mighty dead,
All ages past a blank would be,
Sunk in oblivion's murky bed—

A desert bare, a shipless sea?
They are the distant objects seen-
The lofty marks of what hath been.

Oh! who shall lightly say that fame
Is nothing but an empty name!
When mem 'ry of the mighty dead

To earth-worn pilgrim's wistful eye,
The brightest rays of cheering shed,
That point to immortality!

LESSON LXXXVII.

The Pauper's Death-bed.-MRS. SOUTHEY.
TREAD Softly-bow the head-

In reverent silence bow-
No passing bell doth toll-
Yet an immortal soul
Is passing now.

Stranger! however great,

With lowly reverence bow; There's one in that poor shedOne by that paltry bedGreater than thou.

Beneath that beggar's roof,

Lo! Death doth keep his state:
Enter-no crowds attend,-

Enter-no guards defend
This palace gate.

That pavement, damp and cold,
No smiling courtiers tread;
One silent woman stands,

Lifting with

meagre hands

A dying head.

No mingling voices sound

An infant wail alone;

A sob suppress'd—again

That short deep gasp, and then

The parting groan.

Oh! change-Oh! wondrous change

Burst are the prison bars—

This moment there, so low,

So agonised, and now

Beyond the stars!

Oh! change-stupendous change!

There lies the soulless clod:

The Sun eternal breaks

The new Immortal wakes—

Wakes with his God.

LESSON LXXXVIII.

Last Scene of the Tragedy of" Brutus."-J. H. PAYNE.

Citizens Present. At the left of the stage a tribunal, with a consular chair upon it. Brutus enters, followed by Valerius, and ascends the

tribunal.

Br. Romans, the blood which hath been shed this day Hath been shed wisely. Traitors, who conspire Against mature societies, may urge

Their acts as bold and daring; and though villains,
Yet they are manly villains-But to stab
The cradled innocent, as these have done-
To strike their country in the mother-pangs
Of struggling child-birth, and direct the dagger
At freedom's infant throat-is a deed so black,
That my foil'd tongue refuses it a name.
There is one criminal still left for judgment.
Let him approach.

[TITUS is brought in by the LICtors.

Pris-on-er

[A pause.

[The voice of BRUTUS falters, and is choked, and he exclaims, with violent emotion

Romans! forgive this agony of grief

My heart is bursting-Nature must have way—
I will perform all that a Roman should—

I cannot feel less than a father ought!

[He becomes more calm. Gives a signal to the Lic-
TORS to fall back, and advances from the judgment-
seat to the front of the stage, on a line with his son.

Well, Titus, speak-how is it with thee now?
Tell me, my son, art thou prepar'd to die?

Ti. Father, I call the pow'rs of heaven to witness
Titus dares die, if so you have decreed.

The gods will have it so.

Br. They will, my Titus :

Nor heav'n, nor earth, can have it otherwise.

It seems as if thy fate were pre-ordain'd

To fix the reeling spirits of the people,

And settle the loose liberty of Rome.

'Tis fix'd;-oh, therefore, let not fancy cheat thee:

So fix'd thy death, that 'tis not in the power
Of mortal man to save thee from the axe.

Ti. The axe!--Oh heaven !—Then must I fall so basely? What, shall I perish like a common felon ?

Br. How else do traitors suffer ?-Nay, Titus, more—

I must myself ascend yon sad tribunal

And there behold thee meet this death of shame-
With all thy hopes and all thy youth upon thee.-
See thy head taken by the common axe-
All-if the gods can hold me to my purpose-
Without one groan, without one pitying tear.

Ti. Die like a felon ?-Ha! a common felon !-
But I deserve it all:-yet here I fail :—
This ignominy quite unmans me!
Oh, Brutus, Brutus ! Must I call you father,
Yet have no token of your tenderness,
No sign of mercy! Not even leave to fall
As noble Romans fall, by my own sword?
Father, why should you make my heart suspect
That all your late compassion was dissembled?
How can I think that you did ever love me?

[Kneels.

Br. Think that I love thee by my present passion,
By these unmanly tears, these earthquakes here,
These sighs that strain the very strings of life-
Let these convince you that no other cause
Could force a father thus to wrong his nature.
Ti. Oh, hold, thou violated majesty :
I now submit with calmness to my fate.
Come forth, ye executioners of justice-
Come, take my life-and give it to my country!
Br. Embrace thy wretched father. May the gods
Arm thee with patience in this awful hour.
The sov'reign magistrate of injur'd Rome
Condemns a crime, thy father's heart forgives.
Go-meet thy death with a more manly courage
Than grief now suffers me to show in parting;
And, while she punishes, let Rome admire thee!
Farewell! Eternally farewell!-

Ti. Oh, Brutus! Oh, my father!—
Br. What would'st thou say, my son?
Ti. Wilt thou forgive me?

When I shall be no more, forget not my Tarquinia.

[Rises,