In peaceful thought the field of death survey'd,
To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid,
Inspired repulsed battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful battle where to rage:
So when an angel, by Divine command,
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land,
(Such as of late o'er pale Britannia pass'd,)
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast;
And pleased the Almighty's orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.
Addison.

Alexander the Great, at one period of his life, was of so tender and humane a disposition, as to be sensible of the affliction of persons in the lowest grade, and of animals of the meanest condition. A poor Macedonian was one day leading before him a mule, laden with gold for the king's use. The poor beast being so tired, that he was unable either to proceed or sustain the load, the mule-driver took it up, and carried it, but with great difficulty, a long distance. Alexander seeing him just sinking under his burden, and going to throw it on the ground, in order to ease himself, cried out, "Friend, don't be weary yet; try and carry it quite through to thy tent, for it is all thy own."

ma-te-ri-al prox-im-i-ty

su-prem-a-cy

sur-mount-a-ble tau-tol-o-gy

ter-ra-que-ous

me-tro"-po-lis ra-pid-i-ty ter-res-tri-al mi-rac-u-lous re-cep-ta-cle ther-mo"-me-ter na-tiv-i-ty re-cip-ro-cal the-ol-o-gy

ne-ces-si-ty

re-cum-ben-cy tran-quil-li-ty

non-sen-si-cal

no-to-ri-ous

re-cur-ren-cy tri-um-phant-ly re-deem-a-ble

tu-mul-tu-ous

par-ti-ci-pate re-sto-ra-tive vi-cis-si-tude

par-ti-cu-lar

re-su-ma-ble vi-va"-ci-ty

pe-nin-su-lar re-sus-ci-tate

vo-lup-tu-ous

At church with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal each honest rustic ran;
Ev'n children follow'd with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown to share the good man's
smile.

His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd, Their welfare pleased him, and their care distress'd;

To them his heart, his love, his griefs were giv❜n, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heav'n. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,

Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are

spread,

Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Goldsmith.

Eschylus, as the inventor and father of Tragedy, is like a torrent, rolling with impetuous surge over rocks, forests, and precipices. Sophocles resembles a canal, which flows gently through delicious gardens; and Euripides a river, that does not follow its course in a continued line, but loves to meander, and wind his silver wave

through flowery meads and rural scenes.

The

elevation and grandeur of the genius of Eschylus would not admit him to speak the language of other men: so that his Muse seemed rather to walk in stilts, than in the buskins of his own invention. Sophocles copies Homer's style, and blends in his diction gravity with that honeyed sweetness, from whence he was denominated the Bee. The style of Euripides, though noble, is less removed from the familiar; and he seems to have affected, rather the pathetic and the elegant, than the nervous and lofty.

Rollin.

Say, ye, oppress'd by some fantastic woes,
Some jarring nerve that baffles your repose;
Who press the downy couch, while slaves ad-

vance

With timid eye, to read the distant glance ;
Who with sad pray'rs the weary doctor tease

To name the nameless ever-new disease;

Who with mock patience dire complaints endure,
Which real pain, and that alone, secure;
How would ye bear in agony to lie,

Despised, neglected, left alone to die?

How would ye bear to draw your latest breath, Where all that's wretched paves the way for death?