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POETRY.

DISCIPLINE-Cowper.

IN colleges and halls, in ancient days,
When learning, virtue, piety and truth,
Were precious, and inculcated with care,
There dwelt a sage call'd Discipline. His head,
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.
His eye was meek and gentle, and a smile
Play'd on his lips; and in his speech was heard
Paternal sweetness, dignity and love.
The occupation dearest to his heart

Was to encourage goodness. He would stroke
The head of modest and ingenuousworth,

That blush'd at its own praise; and press the youth
Close to his side that pleas'd him. Learning grew
Beneath his care, a thriving vigorous plant;
The mind was well inform'd, the passions held
Subordinate, and diligence was choice.

DISAPPOINTED HOPE-White.

Fifty years hence,* and who will hear of Henry?
Oh! none;-another busy brood of beings
Will shoot up in the interim, and none
Will hold him in remembrance. I shall sink,
As sinks a stranger in the crowded streets
Of busy London:-Some short bustle's caus'd
A few inquiries, and the crowds close in,
And all's forgotten.-On my grassy grave
The men of future times will careless tread,
And read my name upon the sculptur'd stone;
Nor will the sound, familiar to their ears,
Recall my vanish'd memory.—I did hope
For better things! I hop'd I should not leave
The earth without a vestige;-Heaven decrees

It shall be otherwise, and I submit.

*Years, is a noun without a governing word; Rule 15.-Hence, is an adverb and qualifies is understood; as, A period having arrived which is fifty years hence, &c.

THANATOPSIS-Bryant.

All that tread

The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.-Take the wings
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or loose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings,-yet the dead are there,
And millions in those solitudes, since first

The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep; the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest-and what if thou shalt fall
Unnoticed by the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glides away, the sons of men,

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
The bow'd with age, the infant, in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off,—
Shall one by one be gather'd to thy side,
By those, who in their turn shall follow them.
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan that moves

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and sooth'd
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
PROPHETIC VISION-Cowper.

Oh scenes surpassing fable, and yet true!
Scenes of accomplished bliss! which, who can see,
Though but in distant prospect, and not feel
His soul refresh'd with foretaste of the joy?
Rivers of gladness water all the earth,

And clothe all climes with beauty; the reproach
Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field
Laughs with abundance; and the land, once lean,
Or fertile only in its own disgrace,

Exults to see its thisly curse repealed.
The various seasons woven into one,
And that one season an eternal spring,

The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence.
For there is none to covet, all are full.

The lion, and the libbard, and the bear,
Graze with the fearless flocks; all bask at noon
Together, or gamhol in the shade

Of the same grove, and drink one common stream.
Antipathies are none. No foe to man

Lurks in the serpent now; the mother sees,
And smiles to see, her infant's playful hard
Stretch'd forth to dally with the crested worm;
To stroke his azure neck or to receive
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue.
All creatures worship man, and all mankind

One Lord, one Father. Error has no place,
That creeping pestilence is driven away;

The breath of heaven has chas'd it. In the acart,

No passion touches a discordant string,

But all is harmony and love. Disease

Is not; the pure and uncontaminate blood

Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age.

One song employs all nations; and all

cry,

"Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us."

The existence of God proved from the light of nature.

What am I? and from whence? I nothing know,

But that I am; and since I am, conclude
Something eternal. Had there e'er been nought,
Nought still had been; eternal there must be.
But what eternal? Why not human race?
And Adam's ancestors without an end?
That's hard to be conceived; since every link
Of that long-chain'd succession is so frail:
Can every part depend, and not the whole?
Yet grant it true; new difficulties rise;

Young.

I'm still quite out at sea; nor see the shore.
Whence earth and these bright orbs? Eternal too?
Grant matter was eternal; still these orbs

Would want some other Father; much design

Is seen in all their motions, all their makes;
Design implies intelligence, and art;

That can't be from themselves-or man; that art
Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow ›
And nothing greater yet allowed, than man.
Who motion, foreign to the smallest grain,
Shot through vast masses of enormous weight?
Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume
Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly?
Has matter innate motion? Then each atom,
Asserting its indisputable right

To dance, would form a universe of dust.

Has matter none? Then whence these glorious forms,
And boundless fights? from shapeless, and reposed?
Has matter more than motion? Has it thought,
Judgment, and genius? Is it deeply learned
In mathematics? Has it framed such laws,
Which, but to guess, a Newton made immortal?
If so, how each sage atom laughs at me,
Who think a clod inferior to man!

If art, to form; and counsel to conduct;

And that with greater far than human skili
Resides not in each block ;—a GODHEAL reigns.

PUNCTUATION.

Punctuation is the art of dividing a written composition, by points or stops, for the purpose of rendering the meaning more perspicuous.

The simple points in common use are the following:

The comma,

The semicolon;

The colon:

The period.

The duration of these pauses must be determined by the sense and character of the composition.

OF THE COMMA.

The comma is the shortest pause, and is much used in composition. It is made to separate all words, phrases, or portions of sentences, which, although intimately connected in sense, require a slight suspension of the voice.

When two or more nouns come together, they are usually separated by a comma; as, diligence, economy, and temperance, are the surest means of wealth.

Two or more adjectives coming together, and belonging to the same substantive, are separated by a comma; as, David was a brave, wise and pious man.

Two or more verbs coming together, and having the same nominative case, are separated by a comma; as, We may advise, exhort, comfort, and

instruct.

Two or more participles coming together, are subject to the same rule: as, He was happy in being loved, esteemed, and respected.

Two or more adverbs immediately succeeding each other, are separated by a comma; as, Suo

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