Cannon to right of them, Cannon behind them Volleyed and thundered; They that had fought so well When can their glory fade? Honor the charge they made! Noble six hundred! THE NEW YEAR ALFRED TENNYSON ING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, RING The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind Ring out a slowly dying cause, Ring out the want, the care, the sin, Ring out false pride in place and blood, Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old; Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land; Ring in the Christ that is to be. THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR ALFRED TENNYSON ULL knee-deep lies the winter snow, FULI And the winter winds are wearily sighing. Toll ye the church bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, He lieth still: he doth not move: He hath no other life above. He gave me a friend, and a true, true love, Old year, you must not go; So long as you have been with us, He frothed his bumpers to the brim; Old year, you shall not die; We did so laugh and cry with you, He was full of joke and jest, To see him die, across the waste His son and heir doth ride post-haste, Every one for his own. The night is starry and cold, my friend, And the new year blithe and bold, my friend, Comes up to take his own. How hard he breathes! over the snow The cricket chirps: the light burns low: Shake hands, before you die. Old year, we'll dearly rue for you: His face is growing sharp and thin. Close up his eyes: tie up his chin: Step from the corpse, and let him in And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, SPARTACUS TO THE GLADIATORS AT CAPUA ELIJAH KELLOGG NOTE TO THE PUPIL. Elijah Kellogg, a Congregational minister, was born at Portland, Me., in 1813. He has written several series of juvenile books that have been very popular, but is best known as the author of the following address. YE call me chief; and ye do well to call him chief who for twelve long years has met upon the arena every shape of man or beast the broad Empire of Rome could furnish, and who never yet lowered his arm. If there be one among you who can say that ever, in public fight or private brawl, my actions did belie my tongue, let him stand forth and say it. If there be three in all your company dare face me on the bloody sands, let them come on. And yet I was not always thus a hired butcher, a savage chief of still more savage men. My ancestors came from old Sparta, and settled among the vine-clad rocks and citron groves of Syrasella. My early life ran quiet as the brooks by which I sported; and when, at noon, I gathered the sheep beneath the shade, and played upon the shepherd's flute, there was a friend, the son of a neighbor, to join me in the pastime. We led our flocks to the same pasture, and partook together our rustic meal. One evening, after the sheep were folded, and we were all seated beneath the myrtle which shaded our cottage, my grandsire, an old man, was telling of Marathon and Leuctra; and how, in ancient times, a little band of Spartans, in a defile of the mountains, had withstood a whole army. I did not then know what war was; but my cheeks burned, I knew not why; I clasped the knees of that venerable man, until my mother, parting the hair from off my forehead, kissed my throbbing temples, and bade me go to rest, and think no more of those old tales and savage wars. That very night the Romans |