XCII.- SELECT PASSAGES IN VERSE.

GOOD NAME.-SHAKSPEARE.

GOOD name in man or woman

Is the immediate jewel of their souls.

Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he who filches from me my good name,

Robs me of that which not enriches him,

And makes me poor indeed.

A BIRD'S NEST.-HURDIS.

It wins my admiration

To view the structure of that little work,

A bird's nest.

Mark it well, within, without ;

No tool had he that wrought; no knife to cut;

No nail to fix; no bodkin to insert;

No glue to join ; — his little beak was all;
And yet how neatly finished! What nice hand,
With every implement and means of art,

And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot,
Could make me such another?

NIGHT.-YOUNG.

Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne,
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world:
Silence, how dead! and darkness how profound!
Nor eye, nor listening ear, an object finds.
Creation sleeps. "Tis as the general pulse
Of life stood still, and nature made a pause
An awful pause, prophetic of her end.

THE CLOUD.—SHELLEY.

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers
From the seas and the streams;

I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet birds every one,

When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.

I wield the flail of the lashing hail,

And whiten the green plains under;

And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

THE LANDSCAPE.-DYER.

Ever charming, ever new,

When will the landscape tire the view?
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody valleys, warm and low;
The windy summit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky;
The pleasant seat, the ruined tower,
The naked rock, the shady bower:
Each gives each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

A MORNING PICTURE.-Gray.

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm,

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes:

Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,

That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

EVENING.-WORDSWORTH.

Calm is the fragrant air, and loath to lose

Day's grateful warmth, though moist with falling dews. Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none;

Look up a second time, and, one by one,

You mark them twinkling out with silvery light,
And wonder how they could elude the sight;
The birds, of late so noisy in their bowers,
Warbled a while with faint and fainter powers,
But now are silent as the dim-seen flowers.

TEACHINGS OF NATURE.-COLERIDGE.

But thou, my babe, shalt wander like a breeze
By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags
Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,
Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores
And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear
The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible
Of that eternal language, which thy God
Utters, who from eternity doth teach
Himself in all, and all things in himself.

NIGHT.-R. SOUTHEY.

How beautiful is night!

A dewy freshness fills the silent air;

No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain

Breaks the serene of heaven:

In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine

Rolls through the dark-blue depths.

Beneath her steady ray

The desert-circle spreads,

Like the round ocean girdled with the sky.

How beautiful is night!

A DEATH BED.-ALDRICH.

Her suffering ended with the day;
Yet lived she at its close,

And breathed the long, long night away,

In statue-like repose.

But when the sun, in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,

She passed through glory's morning gate,
And walked in Paradise.

SPRING.-STREET.

Hark! that sweet carol! with delight
We leave the stifling room;
The little bluebird greets our sight;
Spring, glorious spring, has come.
The south wind's balm is in the air,
The melting snow-wreaths, every where,
And leaping off in showers;

And Nature, in her brightening looks,

Tells that her flowers, and leaves, and brooks,
And birds will soon be ours.

THE ISLAND.-R. H. DANA.

The island lies nine leagues away :

Along its solitary shore

Of craggy rock and sandy bay,

No sound but ocean's roar,

Save where the bold, wild sea bird makes her home, Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam.

But when the light winds lie at rest,

And on the glassy, heaving sea,

The black duck, with her glossy breast,
Sits swinging silently,

How beautiful! no ripples break the reach,
And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach.

NEW ENGLAND.—
-J. G. WHITTIER.

Land of the forest and the rock,

Of dark-blue lake and mighty river,
Of mountains reared aloft to mock
The storm's career, the lightning's shock,
My own green land forever!

Land of the beautiful and brave,

The freeman's home, the martyr's grave,
The nursery of giant men,

Whose deeds have linked with every glen,
And every hill, and every stream,

The romance of some warrior dream!

XCIII.A DEER CHASE ON THE LAKE.

COOPER.

[James Fenimore Cooper was born in Burlington, New Jersey, September 15, 1789, and died September 14, 1851. He was the author of many novels, drawn from American scenes and character, which are highly and deservedly popular, and secured him a permanent place in the literature of his country. This lesson is taken from the Pioneers, an early work of his, and one of his best. In this he introduced for the first time his celebrated character of Natty Bumpo, or the Leather-stocking. The scene is laid on the borders of Lake Otsego, in the State of New York. Oliver Edwards is the hero of the story. Mohegan is an old Indian chief.]

THERE were several places in the Otsego that were celebrated fishing grounds for perch. One was nearly opposite to the cabin, and another, still more famous, was near a point, at the distance of a mile and a half above it, under the brow of the mountain, and on the same side of the lake with the hut. Oliver Edwards pulled his little skiff to the first, and sat for a minute undecided whether to continue there, with his eyes on the door