A father bends o'er him with looks of delight,—

His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite

With the kiss of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,

Joy quickens his pulse-all hardships seem o'er ; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,— "O God! thou hast blessed me,-I ask for no more.” Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye? Ah! what is that sound that now 'larms his ear? "Tis the lightning's red glare painting hell on the sky! 'Tis the crashing of thunder, the groan of the sphere ! He springs from his hammock,-he flies to the deck; Amazement confronts him with images dire;Wild winds and waves drive the vessel a-wreck, The masts fly in splinters-the shrouds are on fire! Like mountains the billows tumultuously swell;

In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save ;Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,

And the death-angel flaps his dark wings o'er the wave.

O, sailor-boy! woe to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frostwork of bliss ;— Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright, Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss?

O, sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again

Shall love, home, or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance of thee,

Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge;
But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,
And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge.
On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid,
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below.

Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away,
And still the vast waters shall over thee roll ;
Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye-
O, sailor-boy sailor-boy! peace to thy soul !

LESSON XLVII.

1. OPPOSITION TO MISGOVERNMENT, 1814.-Daniel Webster.

All the evils which afflict the country are imputed to opposition. It is said to be owing to opposition that the war became necessary; and, owing to opposition also, that it has been prosecuted with no better success. This, sir, is no new strain. It has been sung a thousand times. It is the constant tune of every weak and wicked administration. What minister ever yet acknowledged that the evils which fell on his country were the necessary consequences of his own incapacity, his own folly, or his own corruption? What possessor of political power ever yet failed to charge the mischiefs resulting from his own measures upon those who had uniformly

opposed those measures? The people of the United States may well remember the administration of Lord North. He lost America to his country, yet he could find pretences for throwing the odium upon his opponents. He could throw it upon those who had forewarned him of the consequences, and who had opposed him, at every stage of his disastrous policy, with all the force of truth, reason, and talent. It was not his own weakness, his own love of arbitrary power, that disaffected the colonies. It was not the Tea Act, the Stamp Act, the Boston Port Bill, that severed the empire of Britain. O, no! It was owing to no fault of Administration. It was the work of opposition. It was the impertinent boldness of Chatham, the idle declamation of Fox, the unseasonable sarcasm of Barre. These men, and men like them, would not join the minister in his American war. They would not give the name and character of wisdom to what they believed to be the extreme of folly. They would not pronounce those measures just and honorable which their principles led them to condemn. They declared the minister's war to be wanton. They foretold its end, and pointed it out plainly, both to the minister and to the country. He declared their opposition to be selfish and factious. He persisted in his course; and the result is in history.

Important as I deem it, sir, to discuss, on all proper occasions, the policy of the measures at present pursued, it is still more important to maintain the right of such discussion in its full and just extent. Sentiments lately sprung up, and now growing popular, render it necessary to be explicit on this point. It is

the ancient and constitutional right of this people to canvass public measures, and the merits of public men. It is a homebred right, a fireside privilege. It has ever been enjoyed in every house, cottage, and cabin in the nation. It is not to be drawn into controversy. It is as undoubted as breathing the air and walking on the earth. Belonging to private life as a right, it belongs to public life as a duty; and it is the last duty which those whose representative I am shall find me to abandon. This high constitutional privilege, I shall defend and exercise within this House, and in all places; in this time of war, in time of peace, and at all times. Living, I will assert it; dying, I will assert it; and, should I leave no other legacy to my children, by the blessing of God I will leave them the inheritance of free principles, and the example of a manly, independent, and constitutional defence of them!

2. SUMMER MORNING IN THE COUNTRY.-"The Seasons," Thomson.

Music awakes

The native voice of undissembled joy;

And thick around the woodland hymns arise.
Roused by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves
His mossy cottage, where with Peace he dwells,
And from the crowded fold, in order drives
His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn.
Falsely luxurious, will not man awake,
And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy
The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour,
To meditation due, and sacred song?

For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise?

To lie in dead oblivion, losing half
The fleeting moments of too short a life;
Total extinction of the enlightened soul !
Or else to feverish vanity alive,

Wildered, and tossing through distempered dreams ?
Who would in such a gloomy state remain
Longer than Nature craves; when every muse
And every blooming pleasure wait without,
To bless the wildly-devious morning walk?

But yonder comes the powerful King of Day,
Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud,
The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow
Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach
Betoken glad. Lo! now, apparent all,
Aslant the dew-bright earth, and colored air,
He looks in boundless majesty abroad;

And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays
On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams,
High-gleaming from afar.

3. SUN-SETTING.–
•—"The Seasons," Thomson.

Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees,
Just o'er the verge of day. The shifting clouds,
Assembled gay, a richly-gorgeous train,
In all their pomp, attend his setting throne.
Air, earth, and ocean, smile immense. And now,
As if his weary chariot sought the bowers
Of Amphitrite, and her tending nymphs,
(So Grecian fable sung), he dips his orb :
Now half-immersed; and now a golden curve
Gives one bright glance, then total disappears.