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IX. THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

"HAIL to thee, poor little ship' Mayflower,' of Delft Haven: poor common-looking ship, hired by common charterparty for coined dollars; caulked with mere oakum and tar; provisioned with vulgarest biscuit and bacon; yet what ship' Argo,' or miraculous epic ship, built by the sea gods, was not a foolish bumbarge in comparison ! Golden fleeces or the like, these sailed for, with or without effect; thou little Mayflower' hadst in thee a veritable Promethean spark; the life-spark of the largest nation on our earth; so we may already name the Transatlantic Saxon nation. They went seeking leave to hear sermon in their own method, these Mayflower Puritans; a most honest indispensable search; and yet, like Saul, the son of Kish, seeking a small thing, they found this unexpected great thing! Honour to the brave and true; they verily, we say, carry fire from heaven, and have a power that themselves dream not of."-Carlyle. Compare these Adjectives.

Derivations.

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Distinguish between trans.
and intrans. verbs.

Brought. Burns.

Throw.

Brood.

Lies.

Laid.

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THE Pilgrim Fathers,-where are they?
The waves that brought them o'er
Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray,
As they break along the shore:

Still roll in the bay, as they roll'd that day,
When the Mayflower moor'd below,

When the sea around was black with storms,
And white the shore with snow.

The mists that wrapp'd the Pilgrim's sleep,
Still brood upon the tide ;

And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep,
To stay its waves of pride.

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THE GRAVE OF THE INDIAN CHIEF.

But the snow-white sail, that he gave to the gale
When the heavens look'd dark, is gone,-
As an angel's wing, through an open cloud,
Is seen, and then withdrawn.

The Pilgrim exile,-sainted name!
The hill, whose icy brow

Rejoiced when he came, in the morning's flame,
In the morning's flame burns now.

And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night
On the hill-side and the sea,

Still lies where he laid his houseless head ;-
But the Pilgrim-where is he?

The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest :

When summer's throned on high,

And the world's warm breast is in verdure dress'd,
Go, stand on the hill where they lie.

The earliest ray of the golden day

On that hallow'd spot is cast;

And the evening sun, as he leaves the world,
Looks kindly on that spot last.

The Pilgrim spirit has not fled-

It walks in noon's broad light;

And it watches the bed of the glorious dead,
With their holy stars, by night.

It watches the bed of the brave who have bled,

And shall guard this ice-bound shore,

Till the waves of the bay, where the Mayflower lay,
Shall foam and freeze no more.

PIERPONT.

X. THE GRAVE OF THE INDIAN CHIEF.

"THE most uncivilized of the savage tribes of America do not apprehend death as the extinction of being. All entertain hopes of a future and more happy state, where they shall be for ever exempt from the calamities which embitter human life, in its present condition. This future state they conceive to be a delightful country, blessed with perpetual spring, whose forests abound with game, whose rivers swarm with fish, where famine is never felt, and uninterrupted plenty shall be enjoyed without labour or toil.

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As

they imagine, that departed spirits begin their career anew in the world whither they are gone, that their friends may not enter upon it defenceless and unprovided, they bury together with the bodies of the dead, their bow, their arrows, and other weapons used in hunting or war; they deposit in their tombs the skins or stuffs of which they

make garments, Indian corn, manioc, venison, domestic utensils, and whatever is reckoned among the necessaries in their simple mode of life."-Robertson's History of America.

THEY laid the corse' of the wild and brave
On the sweet fresh earth of the new dug grave,
On the gentle hill, where the wild weeds wave,
And flowers and grass were flourishing.

They laid within the peaceful bed,
Close by the Indian chieftain's head,
His bow and arrows; and they said

That he had found new hunting grounds.

Where bounteous nature only tills
The willing soil; and o'er whose hills,
And down beside the shady rills,
The hero roams eternally.

And these fair isles to the westward lie,
Beneath a golden sun-set sky,
Where youth and beauty never die,

And song and dance move endlessly.

They told of the feats of the dog and gun,
They told of the deeds his arm had done,
They sung the battles lost and won,
And so they paid his eulogy.3

And o'er his arms, and o'er his bones,
They raised a simple pile of stones;
Which, hallowed by their tears and moans,
Was all the Indian's monument.

And since the chieftain here has slept,
Full many a winter's winds have swept,
And many an age has softly crept
Over his humble sepulchre.*

1. Any other mode of spelling this word?

2. The object of "laid"?

PERCIVAL.

3. The difference between eulogy and elegy

4. Derivation of sepulchre?

INDIAN NAMES.

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XI. INDIAN NAMES.

"How can the red men be forgotten, while so many of our states and territories, bays, lakes, and rivers are indelibly stamped by names of their giving?"

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Describe the position, and, as far as possible, give the derivations of the "Indian

names" in the poem.

YE say they all have passed away,

That noble race and brave;

That their light canoes have vanished
From off the crested wave;

That, mid the forests where they roamed,
There rings no hunter's shout;
But their name is on your waters,

Ye may not wash it out.

"Tis where Ontario's billow

Like ocean's surge is curled,

Where strong Niagara's thunders wake
The echo of the world,
Where red Missouri bringeth

Rich tribute from the west,
And Rappahannock sweetly sleeps
On green Virginia's breast.

Ye say their conelike cabins,
That clustered o'er the vale,
Have disappeared, as withered leaves
Before the autumn's gale;

But their memory liveth on your hills,
Their baptism on your shore,
Your everlasting rivers speak
Their dialect of yore.

Old Massachusetts wears it
Within her lordly crown,

And broad Ohio bears it

Amid his young renown.
Connecticut hath wreathed it

Where her quiet foliage waves,
And bold Kentucky breathes it hoarse
Through all her ancient caves.

Wachusett hides its lingering voice
Within its rocky heart,

And Alleghany graves its tone
Throughout his lofty chart.
Monadnock, on his forehead hoar,
Doth seal the sacred trust,

Your mountains build their monument,

Though ye destroy their dust.

L. H. SIGOURNEY.

XII. CASABIANCA.

IN the battle of the Nile, the admiral of the L'Orient ordered his son Casabianca (a lad about 13 years of age) not to quit his post, until he told him. In the course of the action, the admiral was killed, the ship caught fire, and was blown up. The boy, unconscious that his father was dead, remained at his post, and permitted himself to be launched into eternity, rather than disobey his father's orders. See Alison's History of Europe.

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Distinguish between the following words, and put them into sentences:

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