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115. PROCRASTINATION.

E wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer :'
Next day the fatal pre'cedent' will plead;
Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life.
Procrastination is the thief of time;
Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
And to the mercies' of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal' scene.
If not so frequent, would not this be stränge!
That 'tis so frequent, this is stranger still.
2. Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears

The palm, "that all men are about to live,"
Forever on the brink of being born;
All pay themselves the compliment to think
They one day shall not drivel," and their pride
On this reversion' takes up ready praise;
At least their own; their future selves applaud;
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead !
Time lodged in their own hands is Folly's vails;
That lodged in Fate's to wisdom they consign;
The thing they can't but purpose," they postpone.
'Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool,

And scarce in human wisdom to do more.

8. All promise is poor dilatory man,

And that through every stage. When young indeed,
In full content we sometimes nobly rest,

Unanxious for ourselves, and only wish,

As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise.
At thirty man suspects himself a fool ;
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty chides his in'famous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve;

'De fer'.- Prec' e dent, that which, going before, is a rule or exam. ple for following times or practice.- After (åft' er).- Mercies (mer'sez).— Våst.— Concerns (kon sẻrnz').—' E tẻr' nal.- * Bears (bârz).— 'Drivel (driv' vl), slaver; be weak or foolish.--10 Re ver' sion, act of reverting or changing.-" Purpose (për' pos).—1a Scarce.

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In all the magnanimity of thought,

Resolves, and re-resolves; then dies the same. 4 And why? because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal but themselves; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread: But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where' past the shaft no trace is found, As from the wing no scar the sky retains, The parted wave no furrow from the keel, So dies in human hearts the thought of death : E'en with the tender tear which nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.

EDWARD YOUNG.

FOWARD YOUNG, author of the "Night Thoughts," was born at his father's parsonage, in Hampshire, England, in 1681. He was educated at Winchester School, and at All Souls College, Oxford. In 1712 he commenced public life as a courtier and poet, and continued both characters till he was past eighty. From 1708 he held a fellowship at Oxford. In 1730 his college presented him to he rectory of Welwyn, in Hertfordshire, valued at £300 a year. In 1731 he married a widow, the daughter of the Earl of Lichfield, which proved a happy union. Lady Elizabeth Young died in 1741; and her husband is supposed to have begun soon afterward the composition of the "Night Thoughts." Of his numerous works published previous to this period, the best are his satires, which were collected in 1728, under the title of "The Love of Fame the Universal Passion," and "The Revenge," a tragedy, which appeared in 1721. Sixty years of labor and industry had strengthened and enriched his genius, and augmented the brilliancy of his fancy, preparatory to writing "Night Thoughts." The publication of this poem, taking place in sections, was completed in 1746. It is written in a highly artificial style, and has more of epigramatic point than any other work in the language. Though often brilliant at the expense of higher and more important qualities, the poet introduces many noble and sublime pas sages, and enforces the truths of religion with a commanding energy and per suasion. The fertility of his fancy, the pregnancy of his wit and knowledge, the striking and felicitous combinations everywhere presented, are truly remarkable YOUNG died in April, 1765, at the advanced age of eighty-four.

116. BEAUTY.

HE high and divine beauty which can be loved without effeminacy, is that which is found in combination with the human will, and never separate. Beauty is the mark God sets

'Through (thr8). Their (thår). Where (whår).— Påst.— Shaft.

upon virtue. Every natural action is graceful. Every heroic act is also decent, and causes the place and the bystanders te shine.

2. We are taught by great actions that the universe is the property of every individual in it. Every rational creature has ali nature for his dowry and estate. It is his, if he will. He may divest himself of it; he may creep into a corner, and abdicate his kingdom, as most men do; but he is entitled to the world by his constitution. In proportion to the energy of his thought and will, he takes up the world into himself. those things for which men plow, build, or sail, obey virtue," said an ancient historian. "The winds and waves," said Gibbon,' "are alway on the side of the ablest navigators." So are the sun and moon and all the stars of heaven.

"All

3. When a noble act is done,-perchance in a scene of great natural beauty; when Leonidas' and his three hundred martyrs consume one day in dying, and the sun and moon come each and look at them once in the steep defile of Thermopyla; when Arnold Winkelried,' in the high Alps, under the shadow of the avalanche, găthers in his side a sheaf of Austrian spears to break the line for his comrades; are not these heroes entitled to add the beauty of the scene to the beauty of the deed? When the bark of Columbus' nears the shore of America,-before it, the beach lined with savages, fleeing out of all their huts of cane-the sea behind, and the purple mountains of the Indian Archipelago around, can we separate the man from the living picture? Does not the New World clothe his form with her palmgroves and savannahs as fit drapery?

'GIBBON, see Biographical Sketch, p. 77.-' LEONIDAS, see p. 353, note 3.3 ARNOLD WINKELRIED, a Switzer of the fourteenth century, the glory of whose heroic, voluntary death, is not surpassed in the annals of history. In the battle of Shempach, perceiving that there was no other means of breaking the heavy-armed lines of the Austrians, he ran with extended arms, and gathering as many of their spears as he could grasp, thus opened a passage for his countrymen, who, with hatchets and hammers, slaughtered the mailed men-at-arms, and won the victory. Christopher COLUMBUS, the discoverer of the New World, was born in Genoa, about the year 1435 or 1436, and died at Seville, Spain, on the 20th of May, 1506.- Indian (Ind' yan).— Archipelago (år ke pèl' a go).

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4. Ever does natural beauty steal in like air, and envelop great actions. When Sir Harry Vane' was dragged up the Tower-hill, sitting on a sled, to suffer death as the champion of the English laws, one of the multitude cried out to him, “You never sat on so glōrious a seat." Charles II., to intimidate the citizens of London, caused the patriot Lord Russell' to be drawn in an open coach, through the principal streets of the city, on his way to the scaffold. "But," to use the simple narrative of his biographer, "the multitude imagined they saw liberty ard virtue sitting by his side."

5. In private places, among sordid objects, an act of truth or heroism seems at once to draw to itself the sky as its temple, the sun as its candle. Nature stretcheth out her arms to embrace man, only let his thoughts be of equal greatness. Willingly does she follow his steps with the rose and the violet, and bend her lines of grandeur and grace to the decoration of her darling child. Only let his thoughts be of equal scope, and the frame will suit the picture. A virtuous man is in unison with her works, and makes the central figure of the visible sphere. EMERSON.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON, a son of the Rev. WILLIAM EMERSON, was born in Boston, about the year 1803, took his degree of bachelor of arts at Harvard College in 1821, studied theology, and, in 1829, was ordained the colleague of the late Rev. HENRY WARE, jr., over the second Unitarian church of his native city; but subsequently, becoming independent of the control of set regulations of religious worship, retired to Concord, where, in 1835, he purchased the house in which he has since resided, except two excursions in Europe, during the latter of which, in 1847, he delivered a course of lectures in London, and other parts of England. He has been a contributor to "The North American Review" and "The Christian Examiner," and was two years editor of "The Dial," es tablished in Boston, by Mr. RIPLEY, in 1840. He published several orations and addresses in 1837-38-39-40, and in 1841 the first series of his "Essays," in 1844 the second series of his "Essays," in 1846 a collection of his "Poems," in 1851

1Sir HENRY VANE, a republican and religionist, was born at Hadlow, in Kent, England, in 1612. He was among the earliest of those whom religious opinion induced to seek a home in America. He was appoint ed governor of Massachusetts in 1635, returned to England the following year, married there, entered parliament, opposed the king, became one of the council of state on the establishment of the commonwealth, and, after the restoration, was condemned for treason, and beheaded June 14. 1662. He wrote several works, chiefly religious.- Lord WILLIAM RUSSELL, born on the 29th of September, 1839, and beheaded on the 21st of July, 1683.

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"Representative Men," in 1852, in connection with W. H. CHANNING and JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE, Memoirs of MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI," and in 1856 * English Traits." Mr. EMERSON is an able lecturer, a most distinguished essayist, and an eminent poet. He perceives the evils in society, the falsehoods of popular opinions, and the unhappy tendencies of common feelings. He is an original and independent thinker, and commands attention both by the novelty of his views and the graces and peculiarities of his style.

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117. THE CLOSING YEAR.

1. IS midnight's holy hour-and silence now
Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er

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The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds
The bell's deep tones are swelling-'tis the knell
Of the departed year. No funeral train

Is sweeping past; yet, on the stream and wood,
With melancholy light, the moonbeams rest
Like a pale, spotless shroud; the air is stirr'd
As by a mourner's sigh; and on yon cloud,
That floats so still and placidly through heaven,
The spirits of the seasons seem to stand,-

Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn form,
And Winter with his agèd locks, and breathe,

In mournful cadences, that come abroad

Like the far wind-harp's wild and touching wail,
A melancholy dirge o'er the dead year,

Gone from the earth forever.

For memory and for tears.

'Tis a time

Within the deep,

Still chambers of the heart, a specter dim,

Whose tones are like the wizard voice of Time,
Heard from the tomb of ages, points its cold

And solemn finger to the beautiful
And holy visions that have pass'd away,
And left no shadow of their loveliness
On the dead waste of life. That specter lifts
The coffin-lid of Hope, and Joy, and Love,
And, bending mournfully above the pale,

Sweet forms, that slumber there, scatters dead flowers
O'er what has pass'd to nothingness.

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