Our sailor oft could scarcely shift
To find a dinner plain and hearty;
But never changed the coin and gift
Of Bonaparte.

LESSON CL.

From the Tragedy of " Velasco."-EPES SARGENT.

Gonzalez. SIR, a word with you.

De Lerma. I am a listener-an impatient one'Twere best that this encounter should be brief.

Gon. This haughtiness! My lord, the king, 'tis said, Refuses to admit the Emperor's claim.

De Ler. Thank heaven the king's no recreant, no coward,

But a Castilian, heart and hand, my lord:

Would I might say the same of all his subjects!
Gon. Throw'st thou the taunt on me?

De Ler. Wherefore this rage,

If thou art innocent?

Gon. De Lerma ! Dotard!

(Half unsheaths his sword, but instantly dashes it into the scabbard.)

No, no! thou'rt old and feeble;-and our children-
Oh! do not tamper with my desperation!

(In a sudden burst of passion.) Retract what thou hast said!

De Ler. Not, while the proofs

Appear even now in all thy looks and actions.

Gon. 'Tis false! Thou urgest me to frenzy—thus! (Strikes him.) It will find vent!

De Ler. A blow! dishonour'd! struck!

(Draws.) Defend thyself, ere I commit a murder.

Gon. With thee I'll not contend: thy arm is nerveless. The odds are too unequal.

De Ler. Then I rush

Upon thee as thou art.

(As De Lerma rushes upon him, Gonzalez wrests away his sword, and throws it upon the ground.)

Gon. I spare thy life.

De Ler. Oh! spare it not, if mercy thou wouldst show, Thou givest me back only what thou hast made A burthen, a disgrace, a misery!

It is a gift, for which I cannot thank thee.

Gon. Keep it, my lord; and let this lesson teach, What thy gray hairs have fail'd to bring thec-prudence.

[Exit. De Ler. (Taking up his sword.) Thou treacherous steel! art thou the same, alas!

Of yore so crimson'd in the Moorish wars?
Methinks there should have been a soul in thee,
The soul of victories and great achievements,
To form a living instrument of vengeance,
And, in the weakness of thy master's arm,
To leap spontaneous to his honour's rescue.
Go! 'tis a mockery to wear thee now.

[Throws down his sword.
Struck like a menial! buffeted! degraded!
And baffled in my impotent attack!
O Fate! O Time! Why, when ye took away
From this right arm its cunning and its strength,
Its power to shield from wrong, or to redress,
Did ye not pluck from out this swelling heart
Its torturing sense of insult and of shame?
I am sunk lower than the lowest wretch!
Oh! that the earth might hide me! that I might
Sink fathoms deep beneath its peaceful breast!
[Retires up the stage.

(Enter Velasco.)

Vel. The peerless Izidora! how my thoughts,
Swept by the grateful memory of her love,
Still bend to her like flowers before the breeze!
They paint her image on vacuity-

They make the air melodious with her voice!
And she-the idol of my boyhood's dreams-

Is now mine own betroth'd! Benignant heavens !
The gulf is pass'd, which threaten'd to divide us,
And the broad Future unobscured expands!

De Ler. (advancing.) Oh! be thy vauntings hush'd!
Vel. My father here!

There is distraction in thy haggard looks.

Thou art not well. Let me support thee hence.
De Ler. It is no corporal ill!

Art thou

my son ?

Vel. My father!

De Ler. In thy feeble childhood, who Sustain'd thee, rear'd thee, and protected thee? Vel. It was thyself.

De Ler. And, in thy forward youth,

Who plumed thy soul for glory's arduous flight?
Instructed thee, till in thy martial fame
Thou didst eclipse thy master?

Vel. Thou alone!

And in thy waning age, this arm shall be
Thy shield and thy support!

De Ler. Thou art my son!
Velasco! from a haughty ancestry

We claim descent: whose glory it has been,
That never one of their illustrious line
Was tainted with dishonour. Yesterday
That boast was true-it is no longer true!

Vel. No longer true! Who of our race, my lord,
Has proved unworthy of the name he bears?
De Ler. I am that wretch.

Tel. Thou! father!

De Ler. Ay. I thought

dictates

Thou wouldst shrink from me as a thing accursed!
'Tis right-I taught thee-Thou but mind'st my
But do not curse me; for there was a time,
When I had fell'd him lifeless at my feet!
The will was strong, although the nerveless arm
Dropp'd palsied to my side.

Vel. My father! speak!

Explain this mystery.

De Ler. I have been struck;
Dograded by a vile and brutal blow!

Oh! thou art silent. Thou wilt not despise me?
Vel. Who was the rash aggressor? He shall die!
Nay, 'twas some serf-there's not the gentleman
In all Castile would lay an unkind hand
Upon thy feebleness. Then, do not think
Thyself disgraced, my honourable father.
Know'st thou th' offender's name?

De Ler. Alas! no serf,

No man of low degree has done this deedis our equal.

The aggressor

Vel. Say'st thou so?

Then, by my sacred honour, he shall die!
De Ler. Thou wilt hold true to that?
Vel. Have I not said?

Were it the king himself, who dared profane
A single hair upon thy reverend brow,

I would assail him on his guarded throne,
And with his life-blood stain the marble floor!
De Ler. Thou noble scion of a blighted stock!
I yet am strong in thee. Thou shalt avenge
This ignominious wrong.

Vel. Who did it? Speak!
De Ler. Gonzalez did it.
Vel. No, no, no! the air

In fiendish mockery syllabled that name.
It was a dreadful fantasy!

My Lord

De Ler. Pedro Gonzalez.

Vel. Izidora's father!

De Ler. Oh! thou hast other ties! I did forget. Go-thou'rt released.

Vel. There must be expiation!

Oh! I am very wretched! But fear not.
There shall be satisfaction or atonement !

De Ler. Thou say'st it. To thy trust I yield mine hon

our.

[Exit Vel. While the proud bird soar'd to the noonday sun, The shaft was sped that dash'd him to the earth! 'Twas wing'd by Fate! 'Tis here! I cannot shrink From the appalling sense that it is real!

This throbbing brain, this sick and riven heart,
These shudders, that convulse my very soul,
Confirm the dreadful truth. But oh! to think
Of all the wretchedness 'twill bring on her,
Her, whose glad tones and joy-bestowing beauty
Seem'd doubly glad and beautiful to-day;
Whose little plans of happiness-

Great Heavens !

It will affright her reason- -drive her mad!

It must not be!

And yet, my father wrong'd,

Insulted by a blow-the proud old man,

Who fourscore years has kept his fame unblurr'd, Now to be so disgraced, and no redress !— My honour calls! It drowns all other cries! . Love's shrieking woe, and Mercy's pleading voice! Thus, thus! I cast them off-poor suppliants! And now, Gonzalez ! for revenge and thee!

LESSON CLI.

Christ Walking on the Water.-MRS. HEMANS.

FEAR was within the tossing bark,
When stormy winds grew loud,
And waves came rolling high and dark,
And the tall mast was bow'd.

And men stood breathless in their dread,
And baffled in their skill—

But one was there, who rose, and said
To the wild sea-be still!

And the wind ceased-it ceased!—that word
Pass'd through the gloomy sky;
The troubled billows knew their Lord,

And fell beneath His eye.

And slumber settled on the deep,

And silence on the blast;

They sank, as flowers that fold to sleep
When sultry day is past.

Oh! thou, that in its wildest hour
Didst rule the tempest's mood,
Send thy meek spirit forth in power
Soft on our souls to brood.

Thou that didst bow the billow's pride

Thy mandate to fulfill,

Oh! speak to passion's raging tide,
Speak, and say, Peace, be still!

[Exit.