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And Brutus', Antony', there were* an Antony (that)
Speech of Henry the Fifth before the battle of Agincourt.
SHAKSPEARE. Who's he that wishes more men from England? My cousin Westmoreland'? No, my fair cousin': If we are marked to die', we are enough To do our country loss'; and if to live', The fewer men', the greater share of honour'. No', no', my lord'; wish not a man from England'. Rather proclaim iť, Westmoreland', throughout my host', That he who hath no stomach for this fight', May straight depart'; his passport shall be made', And crowns', for convoy', put into his purse'. We would not dîe in that man's company'. This day is called the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day', and comes safe home', Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named', And rouse him at the name of Crispian'. He that outlives this day', and sees old age', Will', yearly', on the vigil', feast his neighbours', And say', To-morrow is St. Crispian': Then will he strip his sleeve', and show his scars'. Old men forget', yet shall not all forget'; But they'll remember', with advantages', What feats they did that day! Then shall our names', Familiar in their mouths as household words', Harry the king', Bedford and Exeter', Warwick and Talbot', a Salisbury and Gloucester', Be, in their flowing cups'; freshly remembered'. This story shall the good man teach his son', And Crispian's day shall ne'erd go by', From this time to the ending of the world', But we and it shall be remembered'; We few', we happy few', we band of brothers'; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me', Shall be my brother': be he e'ere so vile', This day shall gentle his condition'; And gentlemen in England', now abed', Shall think themselves accursed they were not here'; And hold their manhoods cheap', while any speaks That fought with us upon St. Crispian's day'.
aTol'bůt. -Solz'bêr-ré. «Glos'ter. Nåre. edre.
* Would be, grammatically.
Last Parting of the three Indian Friends.-MOORE.
WHEN shall we three meet again?
Oft shall death and sorrow reign,
Erea we three shall meet again.
And, in fancy's wide domain,
Oft shall we three meet again.
Long may this loved hour remain,
Oft may we three meet again.
Where immortal spirits reign,
The Sailor-Boy's Dream.—ANONYMOUS. In slumbers of midnight', the sailor-boy lay!;
His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind'; But watch-worn and weary', his cares flew away',
And visions of happiness'.. danced o'er his mind'.
And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn';
And restored every rose', but secreted its thorn!
And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise':Now', far', far behind him the green waters glide', And the cot of his forefathers'.. blesses his eyes'.
The jessamine'.. clambers in flowers o'er the thatch',
And the swallow'.. sings sweet from her nest in the wall'; All trembling with transport', he raises the latch',
And the voices of loved ones' .. reply to his call'. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight';
His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear', And the lips of the boy',. in a love-kiss unite'
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear'. The heart of the sleeper'.. beats high in his breast';.
Joy quickens his pulse':-all hardships seem o'er', And a murmur of happiness'.. steals through his rest'
"O God'! thou hast blessed me'-I ask for no more!!" Ah'! what is that flame which now bursts on his eye'?
Ah'! what is that sound which now larums his ear'? 'Tis the lightning's red glare', painting hell on the sky':
'Tis the crash of the thunder', the groan of the sphere'. He springs from his hammock'-he flies to the deck';
Amazement confronts him with images dire'-
The masts fly in splinters'—the shrouds are on fire!!
In vain the lost wretch'.. calls on Mary to save'; Unseen hands of spirits'.. are ringing his knell,
And the death-angel flaps his broad wings o'er the wave!, Oh', sailor-böy'! wÔ to thy dream of delight'!
In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss' Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright'
Thy parents' fond pleasures', and love's honeyed kiss'? Oh', sailor-bôy'! sailor-bôy'! never again'
Shall home', love', or kindred', thy wishes repay': Unblessed and unhonoured', down deep in the main',
Full many a score fathom', thy frame shall decay. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee',
Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge';
And winds in the midnight of winter', thy dirge'.
Around thy white bones' .. the red coral shall grow';
And every part suit to thy mansion below'. Days', years', and ages', shall circle away',
And still the vast waters'.. above thee shall roll: Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye
Oh', sailor-bôy! sailor-bôy'! peace to thy soul'.
Hamlet's Soliloquy on Death.-SHAKSPEARE.
Cato's Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul.-ADDISON.
It must be so'-Plato', thou reasonest wellElse', whence this pleasing hope', this fond desire', This longing after immortality'? Or', whence this secret dread' and inward horrour', Of falling into naught'? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself', and startles at destruction? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us', 'Tis heav'n itself that points out a hereafter',
*F'ardel, oppressive burden.
And intimates eternity to man'.
(Laying his hand on his sword. Thus I am doubly armed'. My death', and life, My bane and antidote', are both before me'.
This', in a moment, brings me to an end';
The Dying Christian to his Soul.-POPE.
VITAL spark of heavenly flame',
Cease', fond nature', cease thy strife',
And let me languish into life'.
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath?
Tell me', my soul', can this be death'?
With sounds seraphick ring'!
• death'! where is thy sting'?