the people | 7 which | thou hast re | deemed: || thou hast guided them | 7 in thy | strength | 7 unto thy | holy | habi | tation. || | 1 The people shall | hear, and be a | fraid: || sorrow | 1 shall take | hold 7 on the inhabitants of Palestina. || | Then the Dukes of | Edom | 7 shall be a | mazed; || 7 the | mighty | men of | Moab, || trembling | 1 shall take | hold up on them: || all the inhabitants | 7 of Canaan | 1 shall | melt away. ||| Fear and | dread | 7 shall fall up on them; || 7 by the greatness of thine | arm | they shall be as still | 7 as a stone; | 7 till thy | people | pass | over, | 1 which thou hast | purchased. ||| Thou shalt | bring 1 them | in, | 7 and | plant them | 7 in the mountain 7 of thine inheritance, | 7 in the | place, |O| Lord, 7 which | thou hast | made | 7 for | thee to dwell in ; | 7 in the | sanctuary, |O| Lord, |7 which thy hands 7 have established. ||| 1 Je | hovah | 1 shall reign 7 for | ever | 7 and | ever. |]] 7 There came to the | beach | 7 a poor | exile of | Erin, 7 The dew on his | thin | robe | 7 was | heavy and | chill; || 1 For his country he | sighed, 7 when at twilight repairing, 1 To wander a lone | 7 by the wind-beaten | hill. ||| 1 But the day-star | 7 at | tracted his eye's sad de | votion; 1 For it rose | 7 on his own native | isle of the | ocean, 7 Where once | 7 in the | fervor of | youth's warın emotion | 7 He sung the bold | anthem | 1 of | Erin go bragh. ||| Sad is my fate! | 7 (said the heart- | broken | stran ger) | 7 The wild-deer and wolf | 1 to a covert can flee, 1 But I have no refuge | 1 from | famine and | danger, 1 A home, and a country | 7 re | main not to me. ||| Never a gain 7 in the green | sunny | bowers | 1 Where my forefathers | liv'd | 7 shall I spend the sweet hours | 1 Or | cover my harp | 7 with the wild woven | flowers | 7 And strike to the numbers | 7 of Erin go bragh. ||| 7 Erin! my country! | 1 though | sad and for | saken, 1 In dreams 7 I re | visit thy | sea-beaten | shore: | 1 But alas! | 7 in a | far foreign | land I a | waken,| 1 And sigh for the friends | 7 that can meet me no more. || | Oh! cruel fate! | 7 wilt thou | never re | place me | 7 In a mansion of peace, | 7 where no perils can chase me? | | Never again shall my | brothers em | brace me, || 7 They died to defend me, | 7 or | live to de 1 plore. ||| Where is my cabin door, | fast by the wild | wood? | า Sisters and sire, | 7 did ye | weep for its | fall?||| Where is the mother that looked on my childhood?||| 1 And where is the bosom- | friend, | dearer than | all? | | | Ah! 7 my sad | soul, | long abandoned by | pleasure, || Why did it | doat on a | fast-fading | treasure? ||| Tears, 7 like the | rain-drops | 7 may | fall without | measure, 1 7 But | rapture and | beauty | 7 they | cannot re | call. ||| Yet 7 all its fond | 7 recollections suppressing | า | One | dying wish | 7 my | lone | bosom shall | draw. Erin! | 7 an | Land of my Buried and motion, exile | 7 be | queaths thee his | blessing | forefathers! || Erin go | bragh! || cold, | 7 when my heart | stills her | | Green be thy | fields | sweetest | isle of the | ocean | 7 And thy harp-striking | bards | sing aloud with devotion Erin 7 ma vournin! | Erin | go | bragh. ||| EXERCISE V. LUCY.--Wordsworth. Three years 7 she | grew, 7 in | sun and shower, Then nature | said, | 7a | lovelier | flower | 1 On | earth | 7 was | never | sown: || This child | I to my self | 7 will | take; | | She shall be mine, || and I will | make | 7 A lady | 7 of my 7 My self will to my own. ||| darling || be, │ 1 Both | law and | impulse: || 7 and with | me | 7 The | girl | 7 in | rock | 7 and | plain, | 7 In | earth and | heaven, | 7 in | glade and | bower, | 7 Shall | feel | 7 an | over | seeing | power | 7 To | kindle | 7 and re | strain. ||| She shall be sportive | 7 as the | fawn | 1 That wild with glee | 7 a cross the | lawn | 7 And hers | 7 shall be the | breathing | balm, | 7 The floating | clouds | 7 their | state shall | lend | 1 To her; 7 for | her | 7 the | willow | bend ; | | Nor shall she | fail to see, | Even in the motions | 7 of the | storm | Grace 7 that shall | mould | 7 the | maiden's | form,| 7 By silent sympathy. || | 7 The stars of | midnight | 7 shall be | dear | 7 To her; and she shall | lean her | ear | 7 In many a secret | place, | 7 Where rivulets | dance their wayward | round ; || 7 And beauty, || born of | murmuring | sound, | 1 Shall pass into her | face. ||| 7 And | vital | feelings of de | light | 7 Shall | rear her | form | 7 to | stately | height; 1 Her virgin bosom | swell; || Such thoughts 7 to | Lucy | 7 I will | give, | 7 While she and | I | 7 to gether | live | Here in this happy | dell.'||| Thus | Nature | spake. || 7 The work | 7 was | done. ||| me | 1 How soon 7 my | Lucy's race | 7 was run ! 7 She died, || and | left to 7 This | heath, | 7 this | calm and | 7 The memory of what has quiet | scene; | been, | | 1 And never | more will be. ||| EXERCISE VI. PAPER.-A CONVERSATIONAL PLEASANTRY. Dr. Franklin. Some wit of old, | | such | wits of old there | were, 7 Whose hints | 7 showed | meaning, | 1 whose allusions | care, || 1 By one brave | stroke | 7 to | mark all | human | kind, Called | clear | blank | paper | every | infant | mind; || | |