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ALEXANDER POPE.

LESSON CL.

-MAY THE THIRTIETH.

213

Alexander Pope.

On this day, in 1744, died Alexander Pope. Much has been said respecting this poet's scepticism on matters of religious belief; but a short time before his death he said, "I am so certain of the soul being immortal, that I seem to feel it within me as it were by intuition." When Mr. Hooke asked him if he would not die as his father and mother had done, and whether he should not send for a priest, he said, "I do not suppose that is essential; but it will look right, and I heartily thank you for putting me in mind of it." In the morning, after the priest had given him the last sacrament, he said, "There is nothing meritorious but virtue and friendship; and, indeed, friendship itself is but a part of virtue.” His departure was so easy, that it was imperceptible even to those who surrounded his dying couch.

"So fails, so languishes, grows dim and dies,

All that this world is proud of. From their spheres
The stars of human glory are cast down;

Perish the roses and the flowers of kings,

Princes and emperors, and the crowns and palms
Of all the mighty, wither'd and consumed."

Pope in his person was little and somewhat crooked; he was capricious in his friendship; and though he was courted by men of rank and fashion, by Lords Harcourt, Bolingbroke, and others, distinguished for opulence as well as celebrated for wit, yet he never forgot the homage which should be paid to the man of poetical eminence. His manners, as Lord Orrery has observed, were delicate, easy, and engaging; he treated his friends with a politeness that charmed, and a generosity that was much to his honour. Every guest was made happy within his doors; pleasure dwelt under his roof, and elegance presided at his table.

Pope was peculiarly distinguished for his filial piety. It was one of the greatest pleasures of his life to promote the happiness of his aged mother. His actions in this respect correspond with his verse :—

"Me let the tender office long engage,
To rock the cradle of declining age,
Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,
And keep awhile a parent from the sky."

1. What did Mr. Pope say a short time before his death? 2. For what was Pope peculiarly distinguished?

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LESSON CLI.

MAY THE THIRTY-FIRST.

Antony's Funeral Oration over the Body of Cæsar.
FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do, lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men);
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept :
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff;

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse.

Was this ambition?

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And sure he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spake,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause;
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason! Bear with me,
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it comes back to me.

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If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle; I remember
The first time Cæsar ever put it on;
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent :
That day he overcame the Nervii. -

Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through ;-
See what a rent the envious Casca made;

ANTONY'S FUNERAL ORATION OVER CÆSAR.

Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it!
As rushing out of doors to be resolv❜d,
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd or no :
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel.
Judge, O ye gods! how dearly Cæsar loved him!
This was the unkindest cut of all ;

For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquish'd him; then burst his mighty heart:
And in his mantle muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey's statue,

Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
Oh what a fall was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.
Kind souls! What, weep you when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here!
Here is himself, marr'd as you see by traitors.

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To any sudden flood of mutiny.

They that have done this deed are honourable.

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What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it; they are wise and honourable;
And will, no doubt, with reason answer you.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;

I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,

That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him:
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood; I only speak right on :
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb
mouths!

And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

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THOUGHTS ON HORSEMANSHIP.

217

LESSON CLII.

JUNE THE FIRST.

Thoughts on Horsemanship.

THERE is nothing with which the pride of man so strongly connects itself as with the mastery and management of that noble animal the horse. In martial ages the term horsemen was synonymous with gentleman. The word chivalry, which implied all that was noble in blood, comely in accomplishment, and valiant in deed,—all that a king should honour, and a lady love,-might, if the sense of words were to be sought in their etymology, be used to characterise the pursuits of the hostler, the farrier, the groom, and the horse-courser.

The Equites were the gentry of Rome and Athens. Whole tribes in Asia, and even in South America, where the horse is not indigenous, almost live upon horseback, and esteem the print of a man's foot in the earth as a mark of degradation. From the roving Arab, whose unshod steed scarce leaves a trace in the sand, to the graceful chevalier, whose trained courser, proud of its burden, treads the ground with step elastic, and disdainful as a haughty dame, all degrees of men have their horsevanity; even those who cannot back the staidest pad that ever grazed in the churchyard indulge it in imagination. Pope, very likely, was never on horseback in his life; yet hear how the little man talks:—

"The impatient courser pants in every vein,
And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain;
Hills, vales, and floods, appear already cross'd,
And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost.
See the bold youth strain up the threat'ning steep, -
Rush through the thicket-down the valleys sweep;
Hang o'er their courser's heads, with eager speed,
And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed!"

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It is common enough to ride well, but to ride poetically is a very rare accomplishment-never attained by any but such as to a strong natural sense of beauty and fitness unite a vigorous mind in a vigorous bodymens sana in corpore sano. That this union of requisites is only to be looked for in noble families is, we must allow, an assertion better timed in the age of Elizabeth than in that of Victoria. But in no age can it exist without refinement-without a certain cultivation of habitsa selection from vulgar associations: the mere cultivation, either of the intellect or of the muscles, will not suffice.

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