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wretchedness, that she drew a crowd mute and silent around her, and melted every one into tears.

7. The story of one so true and tender could not but excite great interest in a country remarkable for enthusiasm. It completely won the heart of a brave officer, who paid his addresses to her, and thought that one so true to the dead could not but prove affectionate to the living. She declined his attentions, for her thoughts were irrevocably engrossed by the memory of her former lover. He, however, persisted in his suit. He solicited not her tenderness, but her esteem. He was assisted by her conviction of his worth, and her sense of her own destitute and dependent situation, for she was existing on the kindness of friends. In a word, he at length succeeded in gaining her hand, though with the solemn assurance that her heart was unalterably another's.

8. He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change of scene might wear out the remembrance of early woes. She was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an effort to be a happy one; but nothing could cure the silent and devouring melancholy that had entered into her very soul. She wasted away in a slow but hopeless decline, and at length sunk into the grave, the victim of a broken heart. WASHINGTON IRVING.

WASHINGTON IRVING, who has delighted the readers of the English language for more than half a century, was born in the city of New York, on the third of April, 1783. His father, a respectable merchant, originally from Scotland, died while he was quite young, and his education was superintended by his elder brothers, some of whom have gained considerable reputation for acquirements and literature. His first essays were a series of letters under the signature of Jonathan Oldstyle, Gent., published in the Morning Chronicle, of which one of his brothers was editor, in 1802. In 1806, after his return from a European tour, he joined Mr. Paulding in writing "Salmagundi," a whimsical miscellany, which captivated the town and decided the fortunes of its authors. Soon after, he produced "The History of New York, by Diedrick Knickerbocker," the most original and humorous work of the age. After the appearance of this work, he wrote but little for several years, having engaged with his brothers in foreign commerce; but, fortunately for American literature, while in England, in 1815, a reverse of fortune changed the whole tenor of his life, causing him to resort to literature, which had hitherto been his amusement, for solace and support. The first fruit of this change was "The Sketch Book," which was published in New York and London in 1819 and 1820, and which met a success never before received by a book of unconnected tales and essays. Mr. Irving subsequently published "Bracebridge Hall," the "History of the Life and Voyages of Columbus," "The Alhambra," and many other works that we have not room to enuWhile in England, he received one of the gold medals of fifty guineas

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In value, provided by George the Fourth, for eminence in historical composition. In 1832, after an absence of seventeen years, he returned to the United States His style has the ease and purity, and more than the grace and polish of Frank lin. His carefully selected words, his variously constructed periods, his remarkable elegance, sustained sweetness, and distinct and delicate painting, place him in the very front rank of the masters of our language.

18. LINES RELATING TO CURRAN'S DAUGHTER.

SHE

1. HE is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing;

But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is lying.

2. She sings the wild song of her dear native plains,
Every note which he loved awaking-

Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains,
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking.

8. He had lived for his love-for his country he died;
They were all that to life had entwined him-
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,
Nor long will his love stay behind him.

4. Oh! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest,
When they promise a glorious morrōw;

They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the west,

From her own loved island of sorrow.

THOMAS MOORE.

THOMAS MOORE, the poet, was born in 1780, in Dublin, where his father car ried on business as a wine-merchant. He showed from boyhood an imaginative and musical turn; and various circumstances combined in impressing him early with that deep sense of the wrongs and sufferings of Ireland to which his poetry owes so many of its most powerful touches. He was educated at Trinity College, where he took his degree in 1798, after which he went to London to keep his terms for the bar. Poetry however had taken possession of his mind; and his gay translation of Anacreon was published in 1800. In 1804, having obtained a registarship in Bermuda, he went out to discharge the duties of the office. It proved much less lucrative than he expected; and in a few months he returned home, from which time his course of life was very uneventful. In 1811 he married Miss Dyke, an amiable, attractive, and domestic lady. He soon after established himself permanently at Sloperton, near Devizes, visiting London, however, frequently, and making other excursions. In 1835 he received from government a pension of £300 a year; and in 1850, when his health was completely broken, Mrs. Moore obtained a pension of a hundred pounds. He died in the

beginning of 1852. Of his serious poems, "Irish Melodies" and "Lalla Rookh" best support his fame. Many pieces of the former are exquisite for grace of diction, for beauty, and for a refined and ideal kind of pathos. The latter evinces great skill and care of execution, with marvelous richness of fancy, and singular correctness of costume, and establishes his claim to an important place among the great painters of romantic narrative. Moore's political satires, perhaps, show his genius in a more brilliant light than any of his other works. Of his prose writings, the most noted and worthy is the gorgeous romance of "The Epicurean," which appeared in 1827.

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19. THANATOPSIS.'

To him, who, in the love of nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours,
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile,
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings with a mild,
And gentle sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware.

When thoughts

Of the last bitter hour, come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;
Go forth into the open sky, and list

To nature's teaching, while, from all around,
Comes a still voice:

"Yet a few days, and thee,
The all-beholding sun shall see no mōre,

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,

Nor in the embrace of ocean shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourish'd thee, shall claim

Thẳn a top' sis, this Greek word means a view or contemplation of death.

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go,
To mix forever with the elements,

To be a brother to the insensible rock,

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold. 4 "Yet not, to thy eternal resting-place,

5.

6.

Shalt thou retire, alone—nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world, with kings,
The powerful of the earth, the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hōary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre.

"The hills,

Rock-ribb'd, and ancient as the sun; the vales,
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods; rivers that move

In majesty, and the complaining brooks

That make the meadow green; and, pour'd round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,

Are but the solemn decorations all

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,

Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages.

"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, lose thyself in the continuous woods,
Where rolls the Or'egon, and hears no sound,
Save its 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.

7. "So shalt thou rest; and what, if thou shalt fall, Unnoticed by the living, and no friend

8.

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 enjoyments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee.

"As the long train
Of ages glide 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.

9. "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, sustain'd and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams!"

W. C. BRYANT.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT was born in Cummington, Massachusetts, on the third day of November, 1794. He gave indications of superior genius at a very early age; and fortunately received the most careful and judicious instruction from his father, a learned and eminent physician. At ten years of age, he made very creditable translations from some of the Latin poets, which were printed in a newspaper at Northampton. At thirteen, he wrote "The Embargo," a political satire, which was never surpassed by any poet of that age. BRYANT entered an advanced class of Williams College in the sixteenth year of his age, in which he soon became distinguished for his attainments generally, and especially for his proficiency in classical learning. He was admitted to the bar in 1815, and commenced the practice of his profession in the village of Great Barrington, where he was soon after married. He wrote the above noble poem"Thanatopsis"-when but little more than eighteen years of age. In 1821 he delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Harvard College his longest

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