Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thouUnchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play; Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

6. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

(Calm, or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime

Dark-heaving,) boundless, endless, and sublime-
The image of eternity-the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime

The monsters of the deep are made! each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

LESSON XVIII.

TELL'S ADDRESS TO THE MOUNTAINS.

KNOWLES.

1. YE crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!
I hold to you the hands you first beheld,
To show they still are free. Methinks I hear
A spirit in your echoes answering me,
And bid your tenant welcome to his home
Again! O, sacred forms, how proud you look!
How high you lift your heads into the sky!
How huge you are! how mighty and how free!

2. Ye are the things that tower, that shine-whose smile Makes glad whose frown is terrible—whose forms, Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear

Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty!

I'm with you once again! I call to you
With all my voice! I hold my hands to you
To show they still are free. I rush to you,
As though I could embrace you!

LESSON XIX.

TRIBUTE TO THE TALENTS OF CHATHAM.

WIRT.

1. TALENTS, whenever they have had a suitable theater, have never failed to emerge from obscurity, and assume their proper rank in the estimation of the world. The jealous pride of power may attempt to repress and crush them; the base and malignant rancor of impotent spleen and envy may strive to embarrass and retard their flight: but these efforts, so far from achieving their ignoble purpose, so far from producing a discernible obliquity in the ascent of genuine and vigorous talents, will serve only to increase their momentum, and mark their transit with an additional stream of glory.

2. When the great Earl of Chatham first made his appearance in the house of commons, and began to astonish and transport the British parliament and the British nation, by the boldness, the force, and range of his thoughts, and the celestial fire and pathos of his eloquence, it is well known that the minister, Walpole, and his brother Horace, from motives very easily understood, exerted all their wit, all their oratory, all their acquirements, of every description, sustained and enforced by the unfeeling “insolence of office," to heave a mountain on his gi gantic genius, and hide it from the world. Poor and powerless attempt!

3. The tables were turned. He rose upon them, in the might and irresistible energy of his genius, and in spite of all

their convulsions, frantic agonies, and spasms, he strangled them and their whole faction, with as much ease as Hercules did the serpent Python.

4. Who can turn over the debates of the day, and read the account of this conflict between youthful ardor and hoaryheaded cunning and power, without kindling in the cause of the tyro, and shouting at his victory? That they should have attempted to pass off the grand, yet solid and judicious operations of a mind like his, as being mere theatrical start and emotion; the giddy, hair-brained eccentricities of a romantic boy! That they should have had the presumption to suppose themselves capable of chaining down to the floor of the parliament a genius so ethereal, towering and sublime, seems unaccountable! Why did they not, in the next breath, by way of crowning the climax of vanity, bid the magnificent fire-ball to descend from its exalted and appropriate region, and perform its splendid tour along the surface of the earth?

5. Talents, which are before the public, have nothing to dread, either from the jealous pride of power, or from the transient misrepresentations of party, spleen, or envy. In spite of opposition from any cause, their buoyant spirit will lift them to their proper grade.

6. The man who comes fairly before the world, and who possesses the great and vigorous stamina which entitle him to a niche in the temple of glory, has no reason to dread the ultimate result; however slow his progress may be, he will, in the end, most indubitably receive that distinction; while the rest, "the swallows of science," the butterflies of genius, may flutter for their spring; but they will soon pass away, and be remembered no more.

7. No enterprising man, therefore, and, least of all, the truly great man, has reason to droop or repine at any efforts which he may suppose to be made with the view to depress him. Let, then, the tempest of envy or of malice howl around him.

His genius will consecrate him; and any attempt to extinguish that, will be as unavailing, as would a human effort “to quench the stars."

LESSON XX.

THE RAINBOW.

CAMPBELL.

1. The evening was glorious, and light through the trees Play'd the sunshine and rain-drops, the birds and the breeze, The landscape, outstretching in loveliness, lay

On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May.

2. For the queen of the spring, as she pass'd down the vale,
Left her robe on the trees, and her breath on the gale;
And the smile of her promise gave joy to the hours,
And flush in her footsteps sprang herbage and flowers.

3. The skies, like a banner in sunset unroll'd,

O'er the west threw their splendor of azure and gold;
But one cloud at a distance rose dense, and increas'd,
Till its margin of black touch'd the zenith, and east.

4. We gazed on the scenes, while around us they glow'd,
When a vision of beauty appear'd on the cloud;

"Twas not like the sun, as at mid-day we view, Nor the moon, that rolls nightly through star-light and blue.

5. Like a spirit, it came in the van of a storm!

And the eye, and the heart, hail'd its beautiful form;
For it look'd not severe, like an angel of wrath,
But its garments of brightness illumed its dark path.

6. In the hues of its grandeur, sublimely it stood,
O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood;
And river, field, village, and woodlands grew bright,
As conscious they gave and afforded delight.

7. 'Twas the bow of Omnipotence, bent in His hand,
Whose grasp at creation the universe spann'd;
'Twas the presence of God, in a symbol sublime,
His vow from the flood to the exit of time.

8. Not dreadful, as when in the whirlwind he pleads,
When storms are his chariot, and lightnings his steeds,
The black clouds his banner of vengeance unfurl'd,
And thunder his voice to a guilt-stricken world;

9. In the breath of his presence, when thousands expire,
And seas boil with fury, and rocks burn with fire, [plain,
And the sword and the plague-spot, with death strew the
And vultures, and wolves, are the graves of the slain.
10. Not such was the Rainbow, that beautiful one!
Whose arch was refraction, its keystone, the sun;
A pavilion it seem'd, which the Deity graced,
And justice and mercy met there, and embraced.
11. Awhile, and it sweetly bent over the gloom,
Like love o'er a death-couch, or hope o'er the tomb;
Then left the dark scene; whence it slowly retired,
As love had just vanished, or hope had expired.

12. I gazed not alone on that source of my song;
To all who beheld it these verses belong;
Its presence to all was the path of the Lord!
Each full heart expanded, grew warm, and adored.
13. Like a visit the converse of friends-or a day,

That bow, from my sight, passed forever away:
Like that visit, that converse, that day to my heart,
That bow from remembrance can never depart.

14. 'Tis a picture in memory distinctly defined,
With the strong and unperishing colors of mind:
A part of my being beyond my control,
Beheld on that cloud, and transcribed on my soul.