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Thow deep! why dost thou lash the shore?
Ye furious winds! why do ye roar?
Why do the dead awake?

Ye hills! why do

ye shake?
Why do the rocks divide?
Why burst with opening wide?
Why do the thunders shake the pole?
Why do the volum'á ightnings roll?
Why art thou hid, thou sun, on high?
Thou moon and stars, that fill the sky.
Why is your pleasing light

Involv'd in gloom and night? (1)
(2) See yonder! where the LORD of life,
The great MESSIAH 3 us'd with scorn!
See how the trickling blood descends !`
They crown his sacred head with thorn!
See with contempt they drag along
My KING, my SAVIOUR, and my God!
O sight! inhuman sight of wee!
His flesh is furrow'd with the rod !
And now! Oh! horror-bearing scene!
With nails they pierce his feet and hands,
And innocence upon the cross,

The executioner extends !

Mark how his tender body writhes,
To heaven he lifts his falling eyes;
Th' Incarnate bows his blameless head,
And for his very murd'rers, dies.
For this, the dead awake,
For this, the mountains shake;
For this, the cheerful light
Far veil'd in gloom of night;
For this, the rocks divide,
For this, the wind and tide
Resound against the shore ;
For this, the thunders roar ;
For this, the lightnings flame;

For this, convulsions tear the universal frame. (3)



A season for remembering the poor.

In reading the following, let your tone of voice be smooth, easy, and unrestrained; blended wis pensive dignity of look and expression.

NOW winter is come, with his cold chilling breath,

And the verdure has dropp'd from the trees

All nature seems touch'd by the finger of death,
And the streams are beginning to freeze.

(1) Read the several questions with as much variety as possible, yet still preserve the roleman grandeur which breathes through the whole.

(2) Now look up with awe and dread.

~) Read the fast line with great deliberation and energy.

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When wanton young lads, o'er the river can slide,

And Flora attends us no more;

When in plenty you sit by a good fire-side,

Sure you ought to remember the poor.

When the cold feather'd snow does in plenty descend,

And whitens the prospect around;

When the keen cutting winds from the north shall attend,
Hard chilling and freezing the ground;

When the hills and the dates are all candied with white,
When the rivers congeal to the shore,

When the bright twinkling stars shail proclaim a cold night,
Then remember the state of the poor.

When the poor harmless hare may be trac'd to the wood,
By her footsteps indented in snow;

When the lips and the fingers are starting with blood;
When the marksmen a cock shooting go;

When the poor robin red breast approaches the cot;
When the icicles hang at the door;

When the bowl smokes with something reviving and het,

That's be time to remeber the po r.

When a thaw saali ensue, and the waters increase,

And the rivers all insolent grow;

When the fishes from prison obtain a release;

When in danger the travellers go:

When the meadows are hid with the proud swelling flood ; When the bridges are useful no more;

When in health you enjoy every thing that is good,

Can you grumble to think on the poor?

Soon the day will be here, when a Saviour was born,
All the world should agree as one voice;

All nations unite to salute the blest morn;
Al ends of the earth should rejoice.
Grim death is depriv'd of his all-killing sting,
And the grave is triumphant no more;
Saints, angels, and men, hallelujahs shall sing,
And the rich shall remember the poor.


TENDEKNESS OF MIND-On taking of bird's nests.

I HAVE found out a gift for



I have found where the wood-pigeons breed ;
But let me that plunder forbear!

She will say 'tis a barbarous deed.

For he ne'er can be true, she averr'd,
Who can rob a poor bird of its young;
And I lov'd her the more when I heard
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.
I have heard her with sweetness unfold,
How that pity was due to a dove;
That it ever attended the bold;

And she call'd it the sister of love.


Should the scholar be addicted to the abominable practice of dragging out his words in a heavy, drawling manner, let him frequently peruse the following extract from "GRONGAR HILL." It is happily calculated to cure him of that defect, even though he were incun. to the contrary, should be read in that easy, flippant method, so essential to the spirit of it, and so adapted to the Few ears are short tripping measure of the verse. so inharmonious but mus perceive the necessity of adopting a light flippancy of utterance in the perusal. Begin it in a slow, deliberate manner.


A LITTLE rule, a little sway,
A sun-beam in a winter's day,
Is all the proud, the mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave.

And see the rivers how they run

Through woods and n.eads, in shade and sun;
Sometimes swift, sometimes slow,
Wave succeeding wave they go,
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life, to endless sleep!
Thus is nature's vesture wrought
To instruct our wand'ring thought,
Thus she dresses green and gay,
To disperse our cares away.

See on the mountain's southern side
Where the prospect opens wide,
Where the evening gilds the tide,
How close and small the hedges lie!
What streaks of medows cross the eye !
A step, methinks, may pass the stream,
So little distant dangers seem.

(1) So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd through Hope's deluding glass.
As yon summits, soft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,

Which, to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the same coarse way;
The present's still a cloudy day.
O may I with myself agree,
And never covet what I see !
Content me with a humble shade,
My passions tam d, my wishes laid;
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banish quiet from the soul!
"Tis thus the busy beat the air,
And misers gather wealth and care.

Be full, ye court! be great who will;
Search for peace with all your skill;
Open wide the lofty door;

Seek her on the marble floor;


x) Read the moräl reflections, which the poem sontains, showly, impressively, and with effect

In vain ye search, she is not there;
In vain ye search the domes of care;
Grass and flowers Quiet treads,

On the meads and mountain-heads,
Along with Pleasure close allied
Ever by each other's side;
And often by the murmuring rill,
Hears the thrush while all is still,



THE first of April's dawning ray,
Is little Lydia's natal day ;
Pretty warblers of the wood,
Quit awhile your callow brood,
Gaily prune each gaudy wing,
Each a merry carol bring,
To commemorate the morn,
When my little maid was born.
Come. Aurora! bring thy hours,
All array'd in May morn flowers;
Let each little fairy lip,

Of the pearly dew drop sip,
Nature pours out all her wealth,
Drink to her's and Lydia's health;
She I'm sure will not refuse,
Gratefully those gifts to use.

Oh! Innocence! protect her youth,
Lead her down the paths of truth,
Culling sweet from every flower.

Truth has twin'd round virtue's bower,

There to dwell with sweet content,

Virtue's constant resident.

Sweets too redolent will cloy;

Prudence mildly tempers joy;

Thorns may grow tho' sweets are near,

Pity oft will have her tear;


Tears will start, howe'er confin'd,
From a feeling generous mind.
Let her not recline her head
Long on pleasure's rosy bed;
Pleasure does itself destroy,
Be improvement then her toy.
Doing right her greatest joy.
Mindful of her parent's nod,
And her duty to her God;
Tell her, "to the good and wise,
"Every place is paradise;
"Every month an April morn,
"When my little maid was born."

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THEN murmur not at Heaven's 'fix'd decree,
But as you're happy, so contented be;
Your country 'll rise the emporium of wealth,
Your country' sons, the sons of peace and health.
Hail, blest Columbia! whose delightful soil
Repays with richest good the labourer's toil!
What dainties thy delicious gardens yield!
What rich supplies adorning every field'
Happy thy sons, around thy splendid board,
Who taste the luxuries which thy fields afford!

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