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"Then the progeny that springs

From the forests of our land,
Armed with thunder, clad with wings,

Shall a wider world command.
'Regions Cæsar never knew

Thy posterity shall sway;
Where his eagles never flew,

None invincible as they.
Such the bard's prophetic words,

Pregnant with celestial fire,
Bending as he swept the chords

Of his sweet but awful lyre.
She, with all a monarch's pride,

Felt them in her bosom glow:
Rushed to battle, fought, and died;

Dying, hurled them at the foe.
Ruffians! pitiless as proud,

Heaven awards the vengeance due;
Empire is on us bestowed,

Shame and ruin wait for you.

207.—THE EXPLOIT OF HECTOR.

HOMER. Such was the poise in which the battle hung Till Jove himself superior fame at length To Priameian Hector gave, who sprang First through the wall. In lofty sounds that reached Their utmost ranks, he called on all his host: "Now press them! now, ye Trojans, steed-renowned, Rush on! break through the Grecian rampart! hurl At once devouring flames into the fleet!" Such was his exhortation. They, his voice All hearing, with close-ordered ranks, direct Bore on the barrier, and up-swarming showed On the high battlement their glittering spears. But Hector seized a stone: of ample base, But tapering to a point; before the gate It stood. No two men, mightiest of a land (Such men as now are mighty), could with ease Have heaved it from the earth up to a wain; He swung it easily alone,-so light The son of Saturn made it in his hand. As in one hand with ease the shepherd bears A ram's fleece home, nor toils beneath the weight,

So Hector, right toward the planks of those
Majestic folding-gates, close-jointed, firm
And solid, bore the stone. Two bars within
Their corresponding force combined transverse
To guard them, and one bolt secured the bars,
He stood fast by them, parting wide his feet
For 'vantage sake, and smote them in the midst.
He burst both hinges; inward fell the rock
Ponderous, and the portals roared; the bars
Endured not, and the planks, riven by the force
Of that huge mass, flew scattered on all sides.
In leaped the godlike hero at the breach,
Gloomy as night in aspect, but in arms
All-dazzling, and he grasped two quivering spears.
Him entering with a leap the gates, no force
Whate'er of opposition had repressed,
Save of the gods alone. Fire filled his eyes;
Turning, he bade the multitude without
Ascend the rampart; they his voice obeyed;
Part climbed the wall, part poured into the gate;
The Grecians to their hollow galleys flew,
Scattered; and tumult infinite arose.

my infant

208.—MYTHOLOGY.

S. T. COLERIDGE.
O never rudely will I blame his faith
In the might of stars and angels !

'Tis not merely
The human being's Pride that peoples space
With life and mystical predominance;
Since likewise for the stricken heart of Love
This visible nature, and this common world,
Is all too narrow: yea, a deeper import
Lurks in the legend told

years
Than lies upon that truth we live to learn.
For fable is Love's world, his home, his birthplace:
Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays, and talismans,
And spirits ; and delightedly believes
Divinities, being himself divine.
The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
The fair humanities of old religion,
The power, the beauty, and the majesty,
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
Or chasms and watery depths; all these have vanish'd;
They live no longer in the faith of reason.

But still the heart doth need a language, still
Doth the old instinct bring back the old names,
And to yon starry world they now are gone,
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
With man as with their friend; and to the lover
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
Shoot influence down; and even at this day
'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
And Venus who brings everything that's fair!

Wallenstein.

209.-LET THERE BE LIGHT.

HORACE MANN.

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The Greek rhetorician, Longinus, quotes from the Mosaic account of the Creation what he calls the sublimest passage ever uttered: “God said, “Let there be light,' and there was light." From the centre of black immensity effulgence burst forth. Above, beneath, on every side, its radiance streamed out, silent, yet making each spot in the vast concave brighter than the line which the lightning pencils upon the midnight cloud. Darkness filed as the swift beams spread onward and outward, in an unending circumfusion of splendor. Onward and outward still they move to this day, glorifying, through wider and wider regions of space, the infinite Author from whose power and beneficence they sprang. But not only in the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, did he say, “Let there be light.” Whenever a human soul is born into the world, its Creator stands over it, and again pronounces the same sublime words, “Let there be light.”

Magnificent, indeed, was the material creation, when, suddenly blazing forth in mid-space, the new-born sun dispelled the darkness of the ancient night. But infinitely more magnificent is it when the human soul rays forth its subtler and swifter beams; when the light of the senses irradiates all outward things, revealing the beauty of their colors, and the exquisite symmetry of their proportions and forms; when the light of reason penetrates to their invisible properties and laws, and displays all those hidden relations that make up all the sciences; when the light of conscience illuminates the moral world, separating truth from error, and virtue from vice. The light of the newly-kindled sun, indeed was glori

It struck upon all the planets, and waked into existence their myriad capacities of life and joy. As it rebounded from them, and showed their vast orbs all wheeling, circle beyond

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circle, in their stupendous courses, the sons of God shouted for joy. That light sped onward beyond Sirius, beyond the pole-star, beyond Orion and the Pleiades, and is still spreading onward into the abysses of space. But the light of the human soul flies swifter than the light of the sun, and outshines its meridian blaze. It can embrace not only the sun of our system, but all suns and galaxies of suns: aye! the soul is capable of knowing and of enjoying Him who created the suns themselves; and when these starry lustres that now glorify the firmament shall wax dim and fade away like a wasted taper, the light of the soul shall still remain; nor time, nor cloud, nor any power but its own perversity, shall ever quench its brightness. Again I would say, that whenever a human soul is born into the world, God stands over it, and pronounces the same sublime fiat, “Let there be light!" And may the time soon come, when all human governments shall co-operate with the Divine government in carrying this benediction and baptism into fulfillment !

210.-A GOOD STRONG HEART.

E. H. CHAPIN.

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There is one respect in which men differ, and that is in strength and capacity of heart; so that some men are distinguished by the fact that, in all calamities, in all trials, they gather out of their hearts the resources of a new and better life. It is just like a perpetual spring within them. If one form of contemplated good perishes, if one hope drops away, if one resource fails, down they go, down into their hearts again, and call up something else. A great, strong heart is never overcome. It finds its own resources, and falls back into its own possibilities. It is sad to find a man who says, “I have no heart;" to see a forlorn creature who says “I have no power to struggle any more;'' but as long as there is no blight or taint, the power, the possibility of the man is left. There was our gifted Prescott, who died so suddenly the other day. See how that physical calamity which occurred to him in his early years would have affected some men. They would have crouched literally by the wayside of life; and if they had had that man's powers, they would have made their calamity an excrise for a life of idleness and waste. How was it with him? He fell back into his own great and noble heart, and out of it

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he brought up new life, which became to him a strength and power, that perhaps he never would have exhibited, had not that misfortune happened to him. But for that, he might have been a scholar, or, much worse, a politician; but the twilight of almost total blindness having fallen on him, he called up those powers, and concentrated them upon the great and noble work of history; and, when building up this historical structure, just as an architect builds up a great cathedral, like that of Cologne, standing forth majestic and glorious, he profited by the very calamity that excluded him from other pursuits and aims. Yea, and with a still nobler spirit, when others lamented his calamity and sought to condole with him in his misfortune, he sang songs in the night, and spoke noble words of cheer and encouragement. No, it was not out of the intellect, but out of a noble and faithful heart, that streamed forth that beautiful life, which made this man one of the glorious stars in the constellation of our literature.

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211.—TRUE MANLINESS.

D. C. EDDY.

It is not every one that wears a human form, that can claim to be a man, in the full sense of that term. Many live and move among us, who are destitute of the chief elements of a manly character. They suppose themselves men; indeed, they regard their own course as honorable and worthy of imitation. The gambler has his code of honor; the duelist has his code of honor; the soldier, red in blood, has his code of honor. Napoleon was an honorable man, in his way, and the world ascribed to him many great and noble qualities. He fought well and conquered well. His banner waved in triumph over many a bloody field; carnage and famine and death attended his steps, and like the genius of evil he stalked abroad. doubtless, a splendid general and a brilliant emperor; but the child who wandered over the field, after his most triumphant charge, and wet with water the lips of the dying soldiers there, was far more exalted in the scale of being, than was the plumed and epauletted chieftain.

Nelson was a skillful officer, and died, as the world says, “in all his glory.' His banner was his shroud, the roar of cannon was his dirge, and the shout of victory was his requiem. In the list of naval heroes, his name stands foremost, and they who love the navy have learned to honor him.

He was,

But the poor

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