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But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.

The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flow'ry bands the tiger lead.

The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
The smiling infant in his hands shall take
The crested basilisk and speckled snake,
Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey,
And with their forky tongue shall innocently play.
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fix'd his word, his saving power remains;
Thy realm forever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!

Questions: Explain "from Jesse's root;" "from high the dewy nectar pour;" "returning Justice lift aloft her scale;" "olive wand.” What auspicious Babe is meant? Whose voice said "Prepare ye the way of the Lord"? Explain:

"But useless lances into scythes shall bend,

And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end."

What is peculiar about the basilisk's eye?

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LETTER TO THE MARQUIS WELLESLEY.

OUR creed, my lord, is short; all we believe is

embodied in the profession of faith, published under the name of Pius IV., and found in many of our books of common prayer, and in all our rituals or liturgies: it is detailed and justified, and defined, in the decrees of

the Council of Trent; and if your excellency should ever have cast your eye over it, you might not prefer it to that which you profess, but it is impossible that you would not respect it; it is quite impossible that your excellency would deem it a slavish superstition, or say that those who professed it were thereby rendered unfit for freedom.

It was the creed, my lord, of a Charlemagne, of a St. Louis, of an Alfred and an Edward, of the monarchs of the feudal times, as well as of the emperors of Greece and Rome; it was believed at Venice and at Genoa, in Lucca and the Helvetic nations, in the days of their freedom and greatness: all the barons of the Middle Ages, all the free cities of latter times, professed the religion we now profess. You well know, my lord, that the charter of British freedom, and the common law of England, have their origin and source in Catholic times. Who framed the free constitution of the Spanish Goths? Who preserved science and literature during the long night of the Middle Ages? Who imported literature from Constantinople and opened for her an asylum at Rome, Florence, Padua, Paris, and Oxford? Who polished Europe by art, and refined her by legislation? Who discovered the New World, and opened a passage to another? Who were the masters of architecture, of painting, of music? Who invented the compass, and the art of printing? Who were the poets, the historians, the jurists, the men of deep research and profound literature? Who have exalted human nature, and made man appear little less than the angels? Were they not almost exclusively the professors of our creed? Were they who created and possessed freedom under every shape and form, unfit for her enjoyment? Were men, deemed even now the lights of the world,

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and the benefactors of the human race, the deluded victims of a slavish superstition?

But what is there in our creed, which renders us unfit for freedom? Is it the doctrine of passive obedience? No; for the obedience we yield to authority is not blind, but reasonable; our religion does not create despotism; it supports every established constitution, which is not opposed to the laws of nature, unless it be altered by those who have the right to change it. In Poland it supported an elective monarch; in France, an hereditary sovereign; in Spain, an absolute or constitutional king indifferently; in England, when the houses of York and Lancaster contended, it declared that he who was king de facto, was entitled to the obedience of the people. During the reign of the Tudors, there was a faithful adherence of the Catholics to their prince, under trials the most severe and galling, because the constitution required it the same was exhibited by them to the ungrateful race of Stuart; but since the expulsion of James, (foolishly called an abdication,) have they not adopted with the nation at large, the doctrine of the revolution, "that the crown is held in trust for the benefit of the people; and that should the monarch violate his compact, the subject is freed from the bond of his allegiance?" Is there any obligation, either to a prince or to a constitution, which it does not enforce? For nearly four centuries, whilst two nations struggled in the womb of Ireland, the one laboring to conquer, the other to defend, we find Religion always recommending an adjustment, and exhibiting to her infuriated children the olive-branch of peace: we find her in the person of O'Toole, the archbishop of Dublin, standing between the living and the dead, praying for the people, whilst the plague raged. Has she ever ceased to pour

the balm of consolation upon the wounds of the country, and to instil hope or resignation into her almost broken heart? Yet this is the religion which is said to unfit us for freedom.

COMPOSITION.

Write out questions 1, 2, 3, 4, and answer in as few words as possible. Then, take question 5:

"Who discovered the New World, and opened a passage to another?" It may be answered thus:

"Columbus, aided by Catholic Isabella and Ferdinand of Spain, and also encouraged in his venture by Dominican friars, discovered the New World, and opened a passage to another.

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Robert Southey (1774-1843), one of the Lake School of poets. His literary activity was wonderful. The list of his published writings numbers 109 volumes, besides which he contributed 149 articles to the reviews. His poetry is very much neglected, and most of it will soon be quite forgotten. The "Metrical Tales," of which the following is a specimen, are the best of his poems. As a prose writer he ranks high. Of his prose works the best known is the Life of Nelson, written for young readers.

Ο

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,

The ship was as still as she could be;
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock,
The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The Abbot of Aberbrothok

Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
And over the waves its warning rung.

When the rock was hid by the surge's swell,
The mariners heard the warning bell;
And then they knew the perilous rock,
And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothok.

The sun in heaven was shining gay,
All things were joyful on that day;

The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled around,
And there was joyaunce in their sound.

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.

He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess

But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the Inchcape float:
Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;

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