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that the lad is not with us, that he will die: and thy servants shall bring down the grey hairs of thy servant our father with sorrow to the grave.-32 For thy servant became surety for the lad unto my father, saying, if I bring him not unto thee, then I shall bear the blame to my father forever.33 Now therefore, I pray thee, let thy servant abide instead of the lad, a bond-man to my lord; and let the lad go up with his brethren.-34 For how shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with me? lest peradventure I see the evil that shall come on my father.


GENESIS XLV. Joseph disclosing himself.

1 Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him; and he cried, Cause every man to go out from me. And there stood no man with him while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren.-2 And he wept aloud; and the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh heard.—3 And Joseph said unto his brethren, I AM JOSEPH: doth my FATHER yet live?—And his brethren could not answer him, for they were troubled at his presence.-4 And Joseph said unto his brethren, Come near to me I pray you: and they came near. And he said I am JOSEPH, your brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. 5 Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither: for God did send me before you to preserve life. 6 For these two years hath the famine been in the land: and yet there are five years, in the which there shall be neither earing nor harvest. 7 And God sent me before you, to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance. 8 So now it was not you that sent

me hither but God: and he hath made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house, and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt. 9 Haste ye, and go up to my father, and say unto him, Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all Egypt; come down unto me, tarry not: 10 And thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, thou, and thy children, and thy children's children, and thy flocks, and thy herds, and all that hast: 11 And there will I nourish thee, (for yet there rs of famine,) lest thou, and thy household, and


come to poverty. 12 And behold, your


eyes see, and the eyes of thy brother Benjamin, that it is my mouth that speaketh unto you. 13 And ye shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen; and ye shall haste, and bring down my father hither. And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck. 15 Moreover he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them: and after that his brethren talked with him.

25 And they went up out of Egypt, and came into the land of Canaan unto Jacob their father, 26 And told him saying, JOSEPH is yet ALIVE! and he is GOVERNOR over all the land of Egypt. And Jacob's heart fainted, for he believed them not. 27 And they told him all the words of Joseph, which he had said unto them: and when he saw the waggons which Joseph had sent to carry him, the spirit of Jacob their father revived: 28 And Israel said, It is enough; Joseph my son is yet alive: I will go and see him before I die.


The death of a friend.

1 I fain would sing:-but ah! I strive in vain. Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound. With trembling step, to join yon weeping train, I haste, where gleams funereal glare around, And, mix'd with shrieks of wo, the knells of death resound.

2 Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn,
The soft amusement of the vacant mind!
He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn,—
He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined,
Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind!
He sleeps in dust. Ah, how shall I pursue
My theme! To heart-consuming grief resign'd,
Here on his recent grave I fix my view,
And pour my bitter tears. Ye flowery lays, adieu!

3 Art thou, my GREGORY, forever fled?

And am I left to unavailing wo!

When fortune's storms assail this weary head,
Where cares long since have shed untimely snow,

Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go! No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers: Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears. 'Tis meet that I should mourn: flow forth afresh my tears.



The Burial of Sir John Moore.

1 (-)Not a drum was heard, not a fùneral note,
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shōt
O'er the grave, where our Hero was buried.

2 We buried him dàrkly; at dead of night;
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling mòon-beams' misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.

3 No useless còffin enclosed his breast,

Nor in shéet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay-like a warrior taking his rest— With his martial clòak around him!

4 Fèw and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a wòrd of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow—

5 We thought—as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow

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How the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow!

6"Lightly they 'll talk of the spirit that 's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbràid him;
But nothing he 'll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.”

7 But half of our heavy task was done,

When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun, That the foe was suddenly firing—

8) Slowly and sádly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory!
We carved not a líne, we raised not a stone,
But left him-alone with his glory!



Eve lamenting the loss of Paradise.

"O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death!
Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave
Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades,
Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend,
5 Quiet though sad, the respite of that day
That must be mortal to us both. O flowers,
That never will in other climate grow,
My early visitation, and my last

At ev'n, which I bred up with tender hand,
10 From the first opening bud, and gave ye names,
Who now shall rear you to the sun, or rank
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?
Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r, by me adorn'd
With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee
15 How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower world, to this obscure

And wild? how shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits?


Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle.

() Oh! my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal, eldest curse upon 't,
A brother's murder!-Pray I cannot,
Though inclination be as sharp as 'twill,
5 My stronger guilt defeats my strong intènt:
And like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. (°) What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood;
10 Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snów? Whereto serves mèrcy,
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what 's in prayer, but this two-fold force,

To be forestalled, ere we come to fall, 15 Or pardon'd being down?—Then I'll look up; My fault is past.—But oh, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? "Forgive me my foul múrder!” That cannot be; since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murder, 20 My crown, mine own àmbition, and my queèn. May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence? In the corrupted currents of this world, Offence's gilded hand may shove by jùstice; And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself 25 Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above:

There, is no shuffling: there, the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence.-What then?-what rèsts?
30 Try what repentance can: what can it not?

Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?

(6) O wretched state! oh bosom, black as death!
Oh limed soul; that struggling to be free,

Art more engag'd! Help, angels! make assay! 35 Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart, with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the new born babe!

All may be well.


Page 62.


1. MATT. XIV.-22 And straightway Jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him unto the other side, while he sent the multitudes away. 23 And when he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray: and when the evening was come, he was there alone. 24 But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves: for the wind was contrary. 25 And in the fourth watch of the night, Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. 26 And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, it is a and they cried out for fear. 27 But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good chèer; it is I; not afraid. 28 And Peter answered him and said, be thou, bid me còme unto thee on the wa

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