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The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's

pure

shrine !

Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod !
They have left unstained what there they found,
Freedom to worship God!

MRS. HEMANS,

LESSON CLIV.

THE VAUDOIS WIFE. [The wife of a Vaudois leader, in an attack made on one of their hamlets, received a mortal wound, and died in her husband's arms, exhorting him to courage and endurance.]

Thy voice is in mine ear, beloved !

Thy look is in my heart,
Thy bosom is my resting-place,

And yet I must depart.
Earth on my soul is strong, too strong,

Too precious is its chain,
All woven of thy love, dear friend,

Yet vain—though mighty-vain!

Thou seest mine eye grow dim, beloved !

Thou seest my life-blood flow.
Bow to the chastener silently,

And calmly let me go.
A little while between our hearts

The shadowy gulf must lie,
Yet have we, for their communing,

Still, still, Eternity.

Alas! thy tears are on my cheek,

My spirit they detain;
I know that from thine agony

Is wrung that burning rain.
Best, kindest, weep not; make the pang,

The bitter conflict, less ;
Oh! sad it is, and yet a joy,

To feel thy love's excess.

But calm thee! Let the thought of death

A solemn peace restore !
The voice that must be silent soon,

Would speak to thee once more,
That thou mayst bear its blessings on

Through years of aster-life; A token of consoling love

Even from this hour of strife.

I bless thee for the noble heart,

The tender, and the true,
Where mine hath found the happiest rest,

That e'er fond woman's knew;
I bless thee, faithful friend and guide,

For my own, my treasured share,
In the mournful secrets of thy soul,

In thy sorrow, in thy prayer.

I bless thee for kind looks and words

Showered on my path like dew; For all the love in those deep eyes,

A gladness ever new; For the voice which ne'er to mine replied

But in kindly tones of cheer; For every spring of happiness,

My soul hath tasted here.

I bless thee for the last, rich boon

Won from affection tried,
The right to gaze on death with thee,

To perish by thy side;
And yet more for the glorious hope

Even to these moments given;
Did not thy spirit ever lift

The trust of mine to lleaven?

Now be thou strong! Oh! knew we not

Our path must lead to this? A shadow and a trembling still

Were mingled with our bliss.
We plighted our young hearts, when storms

Were dark upon the sky,
In full, deep knowledge of their task,

To suffer and to die.

Be strong! I leave the living voice

Of this, my martyred blood,
With the thousand echoes of the hills,

With the torrent's foaming flood.
A spirit ’mid the caves to dwell,

A token on the air,
To rouse the valiant from repose,

The fainting from despair.

Hear it, and bear thou on, my love!

Ay, joyously endure !
Our mountains must be altars yet,

Inviolate and pure ;
There must our God be worshiped still

With the worship of the free;
Farewell! there's but one pang in death,
Ore only,- leaving thee!

MRS. HEMANS.

LESSON CLV.

MESSAGE TO THE DEAD.

Thou’rt passing hence, my brother!

Oh! my earliest friend, farewell!
Thou’rt leaving me, without thy voice,

In a lonely home to dwell ;
And from the hills, and from the hearth,

And from the household-tree,
With thee departs the lingering mirth,

The brightness goes with thee.
But thou, my friend, my brother!

Thou’rt speeding to the shore
Where the dirge-like tone of parting words

Shall smite the soul no more.
And thou wilt see our holy dead,

The lost on earth and main;
Into the sheaf of kindred hearts,

Thou wilt be bound again.
Tell, then, our friend of boyhood,

That yet his name is heard
On the blue mountains, whence his youth

Passed, like a swift, bright bird.

The light of his exulting brow,

The visions of his glee,
Are on me still; oh! still I trust

That smile again to see.
And tell our fair, young sister,

The rose, cut down in spring,
That yet my gushing soul is filled

With lays she loved to sing,
Her soft, deep eyes look through my dreams,

Tender, and sadly sweet:
Tell her my heart within me burns,

Once more that gaze to meet.
And tell our white-haired father,

That in the paths he trod,
The child he loved, the last on earth,

Yet walks, and worships God.
Say, that his last, fond blessing yet

Rests on my soul like dew,
And by its hallowing might I trust

Once more his face to view.

And tell our gentle mother,

That on her grave I pour
The sorrows of my spirit forth

As on her breast of yore.
Happy thou art, that soon, how soon,

Our glad and bright will see !
Oh! brother, brother! may I dwell,

Ere long, with them and thee ! MRS. HEMANS.

LESSON CLVI.

ONLY ONE NIGHT AT SEA.

“ Only one night at sea,”

'T was thus the promise ran, By frail, presumptuous mortal given,

To vain, confiding man; “Only one night at sea,

And land shall bless thy sight, When morning's rays dispel

The shadows of that night."

The pledge has been received,

The vessel leaves the shore, Bearing the beautiful and brave,

Who ne'er shall greet us more; And every heart beats high,

As bounding o'er the wave, The gallant bark moves on

To bear them to their grave.

The merry

beams of day Before the darkness flee, And gloomy night comes slowly on,

That “only night at sea." The watch upon the deck

Their weary vigils keep, And countless stars look down

In beauty o'er the deep.

Within that stately boat

The prattler's voice is still,
And beauty's lovely form is there,

Unheeding of the ill;
And manhood's vigorous mind

Is wrapped in deep repose,
And sorrow's victim lies

Forgetful of his woes.

But, hark ! that fearful sound,

That wild appalling cry, That wakes the sleepers from their dreams,

And rouses them—to die : Ah, who shall tell the hopes

That rose, so soon to flee; The good resolves destroyed

By that “one night at sea !"

That hour hath passed away,

The morning's beams are bright, As if they met no record there

Of that all-fearful night;
But many souls have fled

To far eternity,
And many hearts been wrecked

In that “one night at sea.'

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