Let thy work appear unto thy servants,

And thy glory upon their children.

And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us: And establish thou the work of our hands upon us; Yea, the work of our hands establish thou it.

- Psalm xc.

A PSALM OF DAVID.

(The Bible.)

The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof;
The world, and they that dwell therein.

For he hath founded it upon the seas,
And established it upon the floods.

Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord?
And who shall stand in his holy place?
He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart;
Who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity,
And hath not sworn deceitfully.

He shall receive a blessing from the Lord,
And righteousness from the God of his salvation.
This is the generation of them that seek after him,
That seek thy face, O God of Jacob.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates;

And be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors:

And the King of glory shall come in.

Who is the King of glory?

The Lord strong and mighty,
The Lord mighty in battle.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates;

Yea, lift them up, ye everlasting doors:

And the King of glory shall come in.
Who is this King of glory?

The Lord of hosts,

He is the King of glory.

de ceit' ful ly, in a lying manner.

ful' ness, abundance.

right' eous ness (chus), purity of heart.

-Psalm xxiv.

sal va' tion, deliverance from sin.
van' i ty, empty pleasure; idle show.

P

THE OCEAN.

LORD BYRON.

(From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.")

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,

By the deep Sea, and music in its roar :
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal

From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel

What I can ne'er express, yet can not all conceal.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean - roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ;
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control

Stops with the shore;-upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,

When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

The armaments which thunder-strike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake
And monarchs tremble in their capitals,

The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war;

These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee-
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
Thy waters wasted them while they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts:-not so thou,
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play-
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime

Dark-heaving;-boundless, endless, and sublimeThe image of Eternity, the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless,

alone.

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be

Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers-they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror-'twas a pleasing fear,

For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane-as I do here.

At the very beginning of the work, he announces it to be his sole purpose to break down the vogue and authority of books of chivalry, and, at the end of the whole, he declares anew, in his own person, that "he had had no other desire than to render abhorred of men the false and absurd stories contained in books of chivalry"; exulting in his success, as an achievement of no small moment. And such, in fact, it was; for we have abundant proof that the fanaticism for these romances was so great in Spain, during the sixteenth century, as to have become matter of alarm to the more judicious.

To destroy a passion that had struck its roots so deeply in the character of all classes of men, to break up the only reading which at that time could be considered widely popular and fashionable, was certainly a bold undertaking, and one that marks

anything rather than a scornful or broken spirit, or a want of faith in what is most to be valued in our common nature. The great wonder is, that Cervantes succeeded. But that he did, there is no question. No book of chivalry was written after the appearance of Don Quixote, in 1605; and from the same date, even those already enjoying the greatest favor ceased, with one or two unimportant exceptions, to be reprinted; so that, from that time to the present, they have been constantly disappearing, until they are now among the rarest of literary curiosities.

GEORGE TICKNOR.

DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO PANZA.

Don Quixote, hearing how soon Sancho was to depart to his new government, took him by the hand and led him to his chamber, in order to give him some advice respecting his conduct in office. "First, my son, fear God; for to fear Him is wisdom, and being wise, thou canst not err. Secondly, consider what thou art, and endeavor to know thyself, which is the most difficult study of all. The knowledge of thyself will preserve thee from vanity, and the fate of the frog that foolishly vied with the ox will serve thee as a caution; the recollection, too, of having been formerly a swineherd, in thine own country will be to thee, in the loftiness of thy pride, like the ugly feet of the peacock."

"It is true," said Sancho, "that I once kept swine, but I was only a boy then; when I grew toward manhood I looked after geese, and not hogs. But this, methinks, is nothing to the purpose; for all governors are not descended from kings."

"That I grant," replied Don Quixote; "and