eavenly ground they stood; and, from the shore, viewed the vast, immeasurable abyss, geous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild, om the bottom turned by furious winds surging waves, as mountains to assault

en's height, and with the centre mix the pole.

Silence, ye

troubled waves, and thou deep, peace!" then the omnific Word; "your discord end!" stayed, but, on the wings of cherubim

ted, in paternal glory rode

nto Chaos, and the world unborn;
Chaos heard his voice: him all his train
wed in bright procession, to behold
tion, and the wonders of his might.

I stayed the fervid wheels, and in his hand
Dok the golden compasses, prepared
od's eternal store, to circumscribe
universe, and all created things:
foot he centred, and the other turned
nd through the vast profundity obscure,
said, "Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
be thy just circumference, O world!"
= God the heaven created, thus the earth,
er unformed and void; darkness profound
red the abyss ; but on the watery calm
brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread,
vital virtue infused, and vital warmth
ughout the fluid mass :-

then founded, then conglobed things to like, the rest to several place arted, and between spun out the air; earth, self-balanced, on her centre hung.

Let there be light," said God; and forthwith light real, first of things, quintessence pure,

ng from the deep, and, from her native east,

ourney through the airy gloom began,

-red in a radiant cloud; for vet the sun

in a cloudy tabernacle

while.

God saw the light was good

n darkness, by the hemisphere,

- the day, and darkness night,

Thus was the first day even and morn.

celebrated, nor unsung

al choirs, when orient light

from darkness they beheld;

eaven and earth with joy and shout

niversal orb they filled,

their golden harps, and, hymning, praised vorks; Creator him they sung,

st evening was, and when first morn.

LESSON CLXVII.

oritten in a Country Church-yard.-GRAY

w tolls the knell of parting day;
ing herds wind slowly o'er the lea;
hman homeward plods his weary way,
ves the world to darkness and to me.

s the glimmering landscape on the sight,
the air a solemn stillness holds,
re the beetle wheels his droning flight,
owsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, oping owl does to the moon complain as, wandering near her secret bower, her ancient, solitary reign.

those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,

his narrow cell forever laid,

ude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,

The swallow, twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
No children run to lisp their sire's return,

Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield;

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke: How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,

Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, The short and simple annals of the poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await, alike, the inevitable hour ;—

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If memory o'er their tomb no trōphies raise,
Where, through the long-drawn aisle, and fretted vault,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn, or animated bust,

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?

Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid

Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

ge to their eyes her ample page, the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; repressed their noble rage,

the genial current of the soul.

gem, of purest ray serene, unfathomed caves of ocean bear; flower is born to blush unseen, e its sweetness on the desert air.

e Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, = tyrant of his fields withstood; inglorious Milton here may rest; omwell, guiltless of his country's blood.

se of listening senates to command, ats of pain and ruin to despise, plenty o'er a smiling land,

their history in a nation's eyes,

orbåde : : nor circumscribed alone owing virtues, but their crimes confined;wade through slaughter to a throne, t the gates of mercy on mankind;

gling pangs of conscious Truth to hide,
ch the blushes of ingenuous Shame;
e shrine of Luxury and Pride
cense kindled at the muse's flame

the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
ober wishes never learned to stray:
cool, sequestered vale of life,
ept the noiseless tenor of their way.

these bones from insult to protect, rail memorial, still erected nigh, outh rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked es the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelled by the unlettered Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply;
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,-
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,—
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies;
Some pious drops the closing eye requires:
Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
Even in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate,
If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,

Haply, some hoary-headed swain may say,
"Oft have we seen him, at the peep of dawn,
Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

'There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old, fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove; Now drooping, woful, wan, like one forlorn,

Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.

One morn I missed him on the accustomed hill,
Along the heath, and near his favorite tree:
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he: