9. The nations gazed, and wondered much, and praised. Critics before him fell in humble plight; Confounded fell; and made debasing signs

To catch his eye; and stretched, and swelled themselves,
To bursting nigh, to utter bulky words.

Of admiration vast: and many too,
Many that aimed to imitate his flight,
With weaker wing, unearthly fluttering made,
And gave abundant sport to after days.

10 Great man! the nations gazed, and wondered much,
And praised and many called his evil good.
Wits wrote in favor of his wickedness;
And kings to do him honor took delight.
Thus full of titles, flattery, honor, fame;
Beyond desire, beyond ambition full,-

"

He died-he died of what? Of wretchedness.
Drank every cup of joy, heard every trump

Of fame; drank early, deeply drank; drank draughts
That common millions might have quenched, then died
Of thirst, because there was no more to drink.
His goddess, Nature, wooed, embraced, enjoyed,
Fell from his arms, abhorred; his passions died,
Died, all but dreary, solitary Pride;
And all his sympathies in being died.

11. As some ill-guided bark, well built and tall,
Which angry tides cast out on desert shore,
And then, retiring, left it there to rot

And molder in the winds and rains of heaven;
So he, cut from the sympathies of life,

And cast ashore from pleasure's boisterous surge,
A wandering, weary, worn, and wretched thing,
Scorched, and desolate, and blasted soul,

A gloomy wilderness of dying thought,

Repined, and groaned, and withered from the earth.
His groanings filled the land, his numbers filled;
And yet he seemed ashamed to groan: Poor man !---
Ashamed to ask, and yet he needed help.

12. Proof this, beyond all lingering of doubt,
That not with natural or mental wealth,
Was God delighted, or his peace secured;

That not in natural or mental wealth,
Was human happiness or grandeur found
Attempt how monstrous, and how surely vain!
With things of earthly sort, with aught but God,
With aught but moral excellence, truth, and love,
To satisfy and fill the immortal soul!
Attempt, vain inconceivably! attempt,
To satisfy the Ocean with a drop,
To marry Immortality to Death,

And with the unsubstantial Shade of Time,
To fill the embrace of all Eternity!

QUESTIONS.-1. What is said of Byron's reading and observation? 2. What is meant by the clause "He touched his harp"? 3. To what is his poetry compared? 4. How does he compare with other poets? 5. How did he treat Nature? 6. How did he treat all passions, all creeds, &c.? 7. How did he regard the wreck which he had made? 8. How did he resemble a fierce comet? 9. How, some bird of heavenly plumage? 10. How was he regarded by some critics? 11. How was he honored? 12. How did he die? 13. Of what does Byron's life and death furnish a proof?

LESSON CLVIII.

WORDS FOR SPELLING AND DEFINING.

AC CUS' ES, charges with fault.
GLUT TON, gormand.
COM PLAI SANT, courteous.
A POTO GY, excuse.
REC RATIONS, diversions.
TRUCE', intermission.

COM MO' DI Ous, convenient.
ES' TI MATE, computation.

RE PELS', drives back.
AC CELER A TING, hastening.
AT TENU A TED, made thin.
FA CILI TA TED, made easy.
DE TAIL', narration.

AL LEG ING, affirming.

IN SU'PER A BLE, insurmountable.
FEED, retained by fee.

DIALOGUE WITH THE GOUT.

ADAPTED FROM BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

Franklin. Eh! oh! eh! what have I done to merit these

cruel sufferings?

Gout. Many things; you have eaten and drank too freely, and too much indulged yourself in indolence.

Franklin.

Who is it that accuses me?

Gout. It is I, even I, the Gout.

Franklin. What! my enemy in person?

Gout. No, no, not your enemy.

Franklin. Why, then, would you torment me to death, and ruin my good name? You reproach me as a glutton and a tippler; now all the world that knows me, will allow that I am neither the one nor other.

I

Gout. The world may think as it pleases; it is always very complaisant to itself, and sometimes to its friends; but very well know that the quantity of meat and drink proper for a man who takes a reasonable degree of exercise, would be too much for another, who never takes any.

Franklin. I take-oh! oh!-as much exercise-eh!as I can, Madam Gout. You know my sedentary state, and, on that account, it would seem, Madam Gout, as if you might spare me a little, seeing it is not altogether my fault.

Gout. Not a jot; your rhetoric and your politeness are thrown away; your apology avails nothing. If your situa tion in life is a sedentary one, your amusements, your recreations, at least, should be active. More exercise and less eating is the only remedy. But amidst my instructions, I had almost forgot to administer my wholesome corrections; so take that twinge,—and that.

Franklin. Oh! eh! oh! oh-h-h! As much instruction as you please, Madam Gout, and as many reproaches; but, pray, Madam, a truce with your corrections!

Gout. No, sir, no; I will not abate a particle of what is so much for your good, therefore

Franklin. Oh! eh-h-h! It is not fair to say I take no exercisc, when I do very often, going out to dine and returning in my carriage.

Gout. That, of all imaginable exercises, is the most slight and insignificant, if you allude to the motion of a carriage. suspended on springs. Providence has appointed few to roll

in carriages, while he has given to all a pair of feet, which are machines infinitely more commodious and serviceable. Be grateful, then, and make a proper use of yours. In walking, you may soon warm your blood, while, in riding, it may as soon become chilled.

Franklin. Eh! oh! Is it, then, by observing the degree of heat obtained by different kinds of motion, that we are to form an estimate of the quantity of exercise given by each? Gout. Precisely so. Would you know how walking forwards the circulation of the fluids, observe when you step, that all your weight is alternately thrown from one foot to the other; this occasions a great pressure on the vessels of the foot and repels their contents, thus accelerating the circulation of the blood.

Franklin. I suppose,-eh! oh!—then, eh! that the heat produced in any given time depends on the degree of this acceleration.

Gout. Most certainly; the fluids are shaken, the humors attenuated, the secretions facilitated, and all goes well; the cheeks are ruddy, and health is established.

Franklin. But I have now enough of your reasonings. Gout. I stand corrected. I will be silent, and continue my office; take that, and that.

Franklin. Oh! oh-h! talk on, I pray you!

Gout. No, no; I have a good number of twinges for you to-night, and you may be sure of some more to-morrow.

Franklin. What, with such a fever! I shall go distracted. Oh! eh! can no one bear it for me?

Gout. Ask that of your horses; they have served you faithfully.

Franklin. How can you so cruelly sport with my torments?

Gout. Sport! I am very serious. I have here a list of offenses against your own health distinctly written, and can justify every stroke inflicted on you.

Franklin. Read it, then.

Gout. It is too long a detail; but I will direct your attention to one particular.

Franklin. Proceed; I am all attention.

Gout. Do you remember how often you have promised yourself, the following morning, a vigorous walk, and have violated your promise, alleging, at one time, it was too cold, at another, too warm, too windy, too moist, or what else you pleased; when, in truth, it was too nothing, but your insuperable love of ease?

Franklin. That, I confess, may have happened occasionally, probably ten times in a year.

Gout. Your confession is very far short of the truth; the gross amount is one hundred and ninety-nine times.

Franklin. Well, it must be then as poor Richard said: "Our debts and our sins are always greater than we think for."

Gout. So it is. You, philosophers, are sages in your maxims, and fools in your conduct. But to my office. It should not be forgotten that I am your physician. There.

Franklin. Oh! eh! what a physician!

Gout. How ungrateful you are for my services! Is it not I who, in the character of your physician, have saved you from the palsy, dropsy, and apoplexy, one or the other of which would have taken your life long ago, but for me?

Franklin. I submit, and thank you for the past; but entreat the discontinuance of your visits for the future; for one had better die, in my opinion, than be cured so dolefully. Permit me just to hint that I have not been unfriendly to you. I have never feed either physician or quack of any kind, to enter the list against you. If, then, you do not leave me to my repose, it may be said that you are ungrateful, too.