Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel awreckThe masts fly in splinters the shrouds are on fire! 9. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell:

In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save;
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,

And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave! 10. O sailor boy! wo to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss.
Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright,
Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honied kiss.

11. O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again

Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay;
Unblessed, and unhonored, down deep in the main
Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.
12. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge;
But the white foam of waves shall thy winding sheet be,
And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge!

13. On a bed of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid ;
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below.

14. Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away,

And still the vast waters above thee shall roll;
Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye :-

O sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul !

LESSON CXXX.

Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk, during his solitary abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez.*COWPER.

1. I AM monarch of all I survey,.

My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre, all round to the sea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O solitude! where are the charms,
That sages have seen in thy face?

An island west of Chili.

Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place. 2. I am out of humanity's reach,

I must finish my journey alone;
Never hear the sweet music of speech ;
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plain,`
My form with indifference see :
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

3. Society, friendship, and love,

Divinely bestow'd upon man,
Oh had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again!
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth ;
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.

4. Religion! what treasure untold

Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver or gold,
Or all that this earth can afford.
But the sound of the church-going bell
These vallies and rocks never heard ;
Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell,

Or smil❜d when a sabbath appear'd.

5. Ye winds that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore,

Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to see.
6. How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compar'd with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-wing'd arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection at hand

Soon hurries me back to despair.

7. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair* ;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place;
And mercy-encouraging thought,
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.

LESSON CXXXI.

The Hermit.-PARNELL.

1. FAR in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age, a rev'rend hermit grew.
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the chrystal well:
Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days,
Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.

2. A life so sacred, such serene repose,
Seem'd heaven itself, till one suggestion rose :
That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey;
Thus sprung some doubt of Providence's sway.
His hopes no more a certain prospect boast,
And all the tenor of his soul is lost.

3. So, when a smooth expanse receives, imprest Calm nature's image on its wat❜ry breast,

Down bend the banks; the trees, depending, grow;
And skies, beneath, with answ'ring colors glow:
But if a stone the gentle sea divide,

Swift ruffling circles curl on ev'ry side;

And glimm'ring fragments of a broken sun,

Banks, trees and skies in thick disorder run.

4. To clear this doubt; to know the world by sight; To find if books or swains report it right;

(For yet by swains alone the world he knew,
Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew.)
He quits his cell; the pilgrim staff he bore,
And fix'd the scallop in his hat before;
Then, with the sun a rising journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each event.

* Lair, a couch.

6. In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies;
All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies.
Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes ;
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell,
Aspiring to be angels, men rebel :

And who but wishes to invert the laws
Of ORDER, Sins against th' ETERNAL CAUSE.

LESSON CXXV.

The Nature of True Eloquence.-D. WEBSTER.

1. WHEN public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing is valuable, in speech, farther than it is connected with high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness, are the qualities which produce conviction.

2. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be marshalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man,-in the subject,-and in the occasion.

3. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire after it; they cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force.

4. The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and their country, hang on the descision of the hour.

5. Then, words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked, and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then, patriotism is eloquent; then, self-devotion is eloquent.

6. The clear conception, out-running the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward, to his object -this, this is eloquence; or, rather, it is something greater and higher than all eloquence,-it is action, noble, sublime, godlike

action.

LESSON CXXVI.

The Perfect Orator.—SHERIDAN.

*

1. IMAGINE to yourselves a Demosthenes, addressing the most illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon the fate of the most illustrious of nations depended-How awful such a meeting! how vast the subject!-Is man possessed of talents adequate to the great occasion ?—Adequate ! Yes, superior.

2. By the power of his eloquence, the augustness of the assembly is lost in the dignity of the orator; and the importance of the subject, for a while, superseded by the admiration of his talents.

3. With what strength of argument, with what powers of the fancy, with what emotions of the heart, does he assault and subjugate the whole man; and, at once, captivate his reason, his imagination, and his passions!To effect this, must be the utmost effort of the most improved state of human nature.

4. Not a faculty that he possesses, is here unemployed; not a faculty that he possesses, but is here exerted to its highest pitch. All his internal powers are at work; all his external, testify their energies.

5. Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, the passions, are all busy: without, every muscle, every nerve is exerted; not a feature, not a limb, but speaks. The organs of the body, attuned to the exertions of the mind, through the kindred organs of the hearers, instantaneously vibrate those energies from soul to soul.

6. Notwithstanding the diversity of minds in such a multitude; by the lightning of eloquence, they are melted into one mass-the whole assembly, actuated in one and the same way, become, as it were, but one man, and have but one voice-The universal cry is-LET US MARCH AGAINST PHILIP,t-LET US FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES-LET US CONQUER, OR DIE!

• Pronounced De-mos'-the-nees, the famous Grecian orator. He was born at Athens, 381 B. C. Though neglected by his guardians, and impeded in his education by weakness of lungs and an inarticulate pronunciation,his assiduity overcame all obstacles, and enabled him to rise superior to every difficulty, and to become the most illustrious and eloquent orator of antiquity. The abilities of Demosthenes, raised him to the head of the gov ernment in Athens. He roused his countrymen from their indolence, and incited them to oppose the encroachments of Philip, king of Macedon, and his son Alexander the Great. Antipater, the successor of Alexander, demanded all the Athenian orators to be delivered up to him, and Demosthe nes, seeing no hope of safety, destroyed himself by poison, B. C. 322. † Philip, king of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great.