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Yet these new rising from the tomb,
In lustre brighter far shall shine,
Revive with ever during bloom
Safe from diseases and decline.

Let sickness blast, let death devour,
If Heaven shall recompense our pain,
Perish the grass and fade the flower,
If but the word of God remain.

ODE TO WINTER.-Campbell.

When first the fiery-mantled sun
His heavenly race began to run,
Round the earth and ocean blue,
His children four, the Seasons flew.

First, in green apparel dancing,

The young Spring smil'd with angel graçe :
Rosy Summer next advancing,

Rush'd into her sire's embrace :
Her bright-hair'd sire, who bade her keep
For ever nearest to his smiles,

On Calpe's olive shaded steep,

On India's citron-cover'd isles:

More remote and buxom-brown,

The Queen of vintage bow'd before his throne;

A rich pomegranate gemm'd her crown,
A ripe sheaf bound her zone.

But howling Winter fled afar,
To hills that prop the polar star,
And loves on deer-borne car to ride,
With barren darkness by his side.
Round the shore where loud Lofoden
Whirls to death the roaring whale,
Round the hall where Runic Odin
Howls his war-song to the gale;
Save when adown the ravag'd globe
He travels on his native storm,

Deflow'ring nature's grassy robe,
And trampling on her faded form:-
Till light's returning lord assume
The shaft that drives him to his polar field;

Of power to pierce his raven plume,
And crystal cover'd shield.

Oh, Sire of storms! whose savage ear
The Lapland drum delights to hear,
When Frenzy with her blood-shot eye
Implores thy dreadful deity.
Archangel! power of desolation!
Fast descending as thou art,
Say, hath mortal invocation

Spells to touch thy stony heart?
Then, sullen Winter, hear my prayer,
And gently rule the ruin'd year;
Nor chill the wand'rer's bosom bare,
Nor freeze the wretch's falling tear ;-
To shuddering want's unmantled bed,
Thy horror-breathing agues cease to lead,
And gently on the orphan head

Of innocence descend.

But chiefly spare, O King of clouds !

'The sailor on his airy shrouds :

When wrecks and beacons strew the steep,

And spectres walk along the deep.

Milder yet thy snowy breezes

Pour on yonder tented shores,

Where the Rhine's broad billow freezes,

Or the dark-brown Danube roars.

Oh winds of winter! list ye there

To many a deep and dying groan; Or start, ye demons of the midnight air, At shrieks and thunders louder than your own. Alas! ev'n your unhallow'd breath

May spare the victim, fallen low; But man will ask no truce to death,No bounds to human woe.

HYMN.-By Bishop HEBER.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning
Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!

Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.

Cold on his cradle the dew drops are shining,
Low lies his bed with the beasts of the stall!
Angels adore him, in slumbers reclining ;
Maker and monarch, and Saviour of all !

Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom and offerings divine,
Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest and gold from the mine?

Vainly, we offer each ample oblation,

Vainly, with gold would his favour secure,
Richer by far is the heart's adoration,

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid,
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

EDUCATION.-From the Beauties of the Waverley Novels

Sir Everard's chaplain, an Oxonian, who had lost his fel lowship for declining to take the oaths at the accession George I. was not only an excellent classical scholar, but res sonably skilled in science, and master of most modern languag

es.

He was, however, old and indulgent, and the recurring interregnum, during which Edward was entirely freed from his discipline, occasioned such a relaxation of authority, that the youth was permitted, in a great measure, to learn as he pleased, what he pleased, and when he pleased. This looseness of rule would have been ruinous to a boy of slow understanding, who, feeling labour in the acquisition of knowledge, would have altogether neglected it, save for the command of a task-master; and it might have proved equally dangerous to a youth whose animal spirits were more powerful than his imagination or his feelings, and whom the irresistible influence of Alma, when seated in his arms and legs, would have engaged in field-sports from morning till night. But the character of Edward Waverley was remote from either of these. His powers of apprehension were so uncommonly quick, as almost to resemble intuition, and the chief care of his preceptor was to prevent him, as a sportsman would phrase it, from over-running his game;

that

is, from acquiring his knowledge in a slight, flimsy, and inadequate manner. And here the instructer had to combat another propensity too often united with brilliancy of fancy and vivacity of talent, that indolence, namely, of disposition, which can only be stirred by some strong motive of gratification, and which renounces study so soon as curiosity is gratified, the pleasure of conquering the first difficulties exhausted, and the novelty of pursuit at an end. Edward would throw himself with spirit upon any classical author of which his preceptor proposed the perusal, make himself master of the style so far as to understand the story, and, if that pleased or interested him, he finished the volume. But it was in vain to attempt fixing his attention on critical distinctions of philology, upon the difference of idiom, the beauty of felicitous expression, or the artificial combinations of syntax. "I can read and understand a Latin author," said young Edward, with the self-confidence and rash reasoning of fifteen, "and Scaliger or Bently could not do much more." Alas! while he was thus permitted to read only for the gratification of his own amusement, he foresaw not that he was losing for ever the opportunity of acquiring habits of firm and incumbent application, of gaining the art of controlling, directing, and concentrating the powers of his own anind for earnest investigation,-an art far more essential than even that learning which is the primary object of study.

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I am aware I may be here reminded of the necessity of rendering instruction agreeable to youth, and of Tasso's infusion of honey into the medicine prepared for a child; but an age in which children are taught the driest doctrines by the insinuating method of instructive games, has little reason to dread the consequences of study being rendered too serious or severe. history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles, and the doctrines of arithmetic may, we are assured, be sufficiently acquired by spending a few hours a-week at a new and complicated edition of the Royal Game of the Goose. There wants but one step further, and the Creed and Ten Commandments may be taught in the same manner, without the necessity of the grave face, deliberate tone of recital, and devout attention hitherto exacted from the well-governed childhood of this realm. It may in the mean time be a subject of serious consideration, whether those who are accustomed only to acquire instruction through the medium of amusement, may not be brought to reject that which approaches under the aspect of study; whether those who learn history by the cards, may not be led to prefer the means to the end; and whether, were we to teach religion in the way of

sport, our pupils might not thereby be gradually induced to make sport of their religion. To our young hero, who was permitted to seek his instruction only according to the bent of his own mind, and who, of consequence, only sought it so long as it afforded him amusement, the indulgence of his tutors was attended with evil consequences, which long continued to influence his character, happiness, and utility. Edward's power of imagination and love of literature, although the former was vivid, and the latter ardent, were so far from affording a remedy to this peculiar evil, that they rather inflamed and increased its violence. The library at Waverley-Honour, a large Gothic room, with double arches and a gallery, contained that miscel laneous and extensive collection of volumes usually assembled together, during the course of two hundred years, by a family which have been always wealthy, and inclined, of course, as a mark of splendour, to furnish their shelves with the current literature of the day, without much scrutiny or nicety of discrimination. Through this ample realm Edward was permitted to roam at large. His tutor had his own studies; and church politics and controversial divinity, together with a love of learned ease, though they did not withdraw his attention at stated times from the progress of his patron's presumptive heir, induced him readily to grasp at any apology for not extending a strict and regulated survey towards his general studies. Sir Eve rard had never been himself a student, and, like his sister Miss Rachael Waverley, held the vulgar doctrine, that idleness is incompatible with reading of any kind, and that the mere trac ing the alphabetical characters with the eye, is, in itself, a use ful and meritorious task, without scrupulously considering what ideas or doctrines they may happen to convey. With a desire of amusement, therefore, which better discipline might soon have converted into a thirst for knowledge, young Waverley drove through the sea of books like a vessel without a pilot or a rudder. Nothing perhaps increases by indulgence more than a desultory habit of reading, especially under such oppor tunities of gratifying it. I believe one reason why such numerous instances of erudition occur among the lower rank is, that, with the same powers of mind, the poor student is limited to a narrow circle for indulging his passion for books, and must necessarily make himself master of the few he possesses ere he can acquire more. Edward, on the contrary, like the epicure who only deigned to take a single morsel from the sunny side of a peach, read no volume a moment after it ceased to excite his curiosity or interest; and it necessarily happened, that the habit of seeking only this sort of gratification rendered

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