coming? Exulting millions rejoice in it; and their loud, long, transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, undying, to Freedom's farthest mountains. A congregated nation comes around him. Old men bless him', and children reverence him'. The lovely come out to look upon him'; the learned deck their halls to greet him'; the rulers of the land rise up to do him homage'. How his full heart labors! He views the rusting trophies of departed days'; he treads upon the high places where his brethren molder'; he bends before the tomb of his "Father';" his words are tears',-the speech of sad remembrance'. But he looks round upon a ransomed land and a joyous race'; he beholds the blessings these trophies secured', for which these brethren died', for which that "Father" lived'; and again his words are tears',-the eloquence of gratitude and joy'.

6. Spread forth creation like a map'; bid earth's dread multitude revive'; and of all the pageant splendors that ever glittered to the sun, when looked his burning eye on a sight like this? Of all the myriads that have come and gone, what cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this? Many have struck the redeeming blow for their own freedom; but who, like this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of strangers? Others have lived in the love of their own people; but who, like this man, has drank his sweet cup of welcome with another? Matchless chief! of glory's immortal tablets there is one for him, for him alone! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor; the everlasting flame of liberty shall guard it, that the generations of men may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved name of La Fayette.

LESSON LIV.

THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET.

BY ALBERT G. GREENE.

1. O'ER a low couch a setting sun
Had thrown its latest ray,
Where, in his last strong agony,
A dying warrior lay,-

The stern old Baron Rudiger,

Whose frame had ne'er been bent

By wasting pain, till time and toil

Its iron strength had spent.

2. "They come around me here', aud say
My days of life are o'er',-

That I shall mount my noble steed
And lead my band no more';
They come', and to my beard they dare
To tell me, now', that I',

Their own liege-lord and master born',
That I-ha! ha!-must die'!

3. "And what is Death? I've dared him oft
Before the Paynim's spear';
Think ye he's enter'd at my gate',

Has come to seek me here?
I've met him,' faced him', scorn'd him',
When the fight was raging hot':

I'll try his might'; I'll brave his power'.
Defy, and fear him not!

4. (p) "Ho! sound the tocsin from the tower,
And fire the culverin'!

Bid each retainer arm with speed';
Call every vassal in'!

(ps) Up with my banner on the wall'!
The banquet-board prepare'!
Throw wide the portal of my hall',
And bring my armor there'!"

5. (4) A hundred hands were busy then';
The banquet forth was spread',
And rang the heavy oaken floor
With many a martial tread';
While, from the rich, dark tracery

Along the vaulted wall,

Lights gleam'd on harness, plume, and spear,
O'er the proud old Gothic hall.

6. (4) Fast hurrying through the outer gate,
The mail'd retainers pour'd,—
On through the portal's frowning arch,-
And throng'd around the board.
While at its head, within his dark,
Carved oaken chair of state,

Arm'd cap-à-pie, stern Rudiger,

With girded falchion, sate.

7. (p4) "Fill every beaker up, my men'!
Pour forth the cheering wine'!
There's life and strength in every drop:
Thanksgiving to the vine!

Are ye all there, my vassals true'?
(p3) Mine eyes are waxing dim;
(p) Fill round', my tried and fearless ones,
Each goblet to the brim'!

8. "Ye're there, but yet I see you not!
(p) Draw forth each trusty sword',
And let me hear your faithful steel
Clash once around my board!

I hear it faintly. (ps fs) Louder yet!
(p2) What clogs my heavy breath?
(p3 ƒ3) Up', all'! and shout for Rudiger,
Defiance unto Death!"

9. Bowl rang to bowl', steel clang'd to steel',
And rose a deafening cry',
That made the torches flare around,
And shook the flags on high':
(psf) "Ho! cravens! do ye fear him?
Slaves! traitors! have ye flown?
Ho! cowards! have ye left me
To meet him here alone?

10. "But I defy him! Let him come'!"
Down rang the massy cup,

While from its sheath the ready blade
Came flashing half-way up;
And, with the black and heavy plumes
Scarce trembling on his head',,
There, in his dark', carved' oaken chair',
Old Rudiger sat',-dead'!

LESSON LV.

THE PRESENT AGE.

BY CHANNING.

1. THE Present Age. In these brief words what a world of thought is comprehended'! what infinite movements'! what joys

and sorrows'! what hope and despair'! what faith and doubt'! what silent grief and loud lament! what fierce conflicts and subtle schemes of policy'! what private and public revolutions'! In the period through which many of us have passed, what thrones have been shaken! what hearts have bled! what millions have been butchered by their fellow-creatures! what hopes of philanthropy have been blighted! And, at the same time, what magnificent enterprises have been achieved! what new provinces won to science and art! what rights and liberties secured to nations!

2. It is a privilege to have lived in an age so stirring, so pregnant', and so eventful! It is an age never to be forgotten. Its voice of warning and encouragement is never to die. Its impression on history is indelible. Amidst its events, the American Revolution, the first distinct, solemn assertion of the rights of men, and the French Revolution, that volcanic force which shook the earth to its center, are never to pass from men's minds. Over this age, the night will indeed gather more and more, as time rolls away; but in that night two forms will appear,-Washington and Napoleon; the one a lurid meteor', the other a benign', serene', and undecaying star'.

3. Another American name will live in history,-your Franklin; and the kite which brought lightning from heaven will be seen sailing in the clouds by remote posterity, when the city where he dwelt may be known only by its ruins. There is, however, something greater in the age than its greatest men: it is the appearance of a new power in the world,—the appearance of the multitude of men on that stage where as yet the few have acted their parts alone. This influence is to endure to the end of time.

4. What more of the present is to survive? Perhaps much of which we now take no note. The glory of an age is often hidden from itself. Perhaps some word has been spoken in our day, which we have not deigned to hear, but which is to grow clearer and louder through all ages. Perhaps some silent thinker among us is at work in his closet, whose name is to fill the earth. Perhaps there sleeps in his cradle some reformer who is to move the church and the world', who is to open a new era in history', who is to fire the human soul with new hope and new daring.

5. What else is to survive the age? That which the age has little thought of, but which is living in us all: I mean the soul', the immortal spirit'. Of this all ages are the unfoldings; and it is greater than all. We must not feel, in the contemplation

We

of the vast movements in our own and former times, as if ourselves were nothing. I repeat it, we are greater than all. are to survive our age, to comprehend it', and to pronounce its

sentence. As yet, however, we are compassed with darkness. The issues of our time, how obscure! The future, into which it opens, who of us can foresee? To the Father of all Ages I commit this future with humble yet courageous and unfaltering hope.

LESSON LVI.

OLD IRONSIDES.

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

1. Ay, tear her tatter'd ensign down'!
Long has it waved on high,
And many a heart has danced to see
That banner in the sky';
Beneath it rung the battle-shout',

And burst the cannon's roar':

The meteor of the ocean-air

Shall sweep the clouds no more!

2. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
Where knelt the vanquish'd foe,

When winds were hurrying o'er the flood
And waves were white below,
No more shall feel the victor's tread,
Or know the conquer'd knee:
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea!

3. Oh, better tha her shatter'd hulk
Should sink beneath the wave':
Her thunders shook the mighty deep',
And there should be her grave'.
Nail to the mast her holy flag',
Set every threadbare sail',

And give her to the god of storms',

The lightning and the gale'!