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Rolla. Hast thou children?
Sent. Four, honest, lovely boys.
Rolla. Where didst thou leave them?

Sent. In my native village, in the very cot where I was born.

Rolla. Dost thou love thy wife and children?-
Sent. Do I love them! God knows my heart,- I do.

Rolla. Soldier! Imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death in a strange land—What would be thy last request?

Sent. That some of my comrades should carry my dying olessing to my wife and children.

Rolla. What if that comrade was at thy prison door, and should there be told, thy fellow soldier dies at sunrise, yet thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his dying blessing to his poor children, or his wretched wife—what wouldst thou think of him who thus could drive thy comrade from the door?

Sent. How?

Rolla. Alonzo has a wife and child; and I am come but to receive for her, and for her poor babe, the last blessing of my friend.

Sent. Go in. [Exit Sentinel.]
Rolla. [Calls.] Alonzo! Alonzo!

[Ěnter Alonzo, speaking as he comes in.]
Alon. How! is my hour elapsed? Well, I am ready.
Rolla. Alonzo, know me!
Alon. Rolla! Ó Rolla! how didst thou pass the guard?

Rolla. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This disguise I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our field of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon; now take it thou, and fly.

Alon. And Rolla-
Rolla. Will remain here in thy place.
Alon. And die for me! No! Rather eternal tortures rack

me.

Rolla. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks, not Rolla's; and thy arm may soon deliver me from prison. Or, should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree in the desert; nothing lives beneath my shelter. Thou art a husband and a father; the being of a lovely wife and helpless infant depend upon thy life. Go! go! Alonzo, not to save thyself, but Cora, and thy child.

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Alon. Urge me not thus, my friend--I am prepared to die in

peace. Rolla. To die in peace! devoting her you have sworn to live for, to madness, misery, and death! Alon. Merciful heavens!

Rolla. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo--now mark me well. Thou knowest that Rolla never pledged his word and shrunk from its fulfilment. Know then, if thou art proudly obstinate, thou shalt have the desperate triumph of seeing Rolla perish by thy side.

Alon. O Rolla! you distract me! Wear you the robe, and though dreadful the necessity, we will strike down the guard, and force our passage.

Rolla. What, the soldier on duty here?

Alon. Yes, else seeing two, the alarm will be instant death.

Rolla. For my nation's safety, I would not harm him. That soldier, mark me, is a man! All are not men that wear the human form. He refused my prayers, refused my gold, denying to admit---till his own feelings bribed him. I will not risk a hair of that man's head, to save my heartstrings from consuming fire. But haste! A moment's further pause

and all is lost. Alon. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honour and from right.

Rolla. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonour to his friend? [Throwing the friar's garment over his shoulders.] There! conceal thy face-Now God be with thee.

EXERCISE 124.

God.- Translated from a Russian Ode by DerZHANIR. 1 0 Thou Eternal One! whose presence bright,

All space doth occupy.--All motion guide;
Unchanged through time's all devastating flight,
Thou only God! There is no God beside.
Being above all beings! Mighty One!
Whom none can comprehend, and none explore,
Who fill'st existence with thyself alone;
Embracing all-supporting-ruling o'er-
Being whom we call God—and know no more!

2 A million torches lighted by thy hand,

Wander unwearied through the blue abyss;
They own thy power, accomplish thy command,
All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss:
What shall we call them? Piles of crystal light?
A glorious company of golden streams?
Lamps of celestial ether, burning bright?
Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams?

But thou to these art as the noon to night. 3 Yes! as a drop of water in the sea,

All this magnificence is lost in thee:-
What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee?
And what am I, then? Heaven's unnumbered host,
Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed
In all the glory of sublimest thought,
Is but an atom in the balance weighed
Against thy greatness—is a cipher brought

Against infinity! what am I then? Nought!
4 Nought?-But the effluence of thy light divine,

Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too;
Yes, in my spirit doth thy spirit shine,
As shines the sun-beam in a drop of dew.
Nought?—But I live, and on hope's pinions fly,
Eager towards thy presence; for in thee
I live, and breathe, and dwell; aspiring high,
Even to the throne of thy Divinity.

I am, O God, and surely thou must be!
5 Thou art! directing, guiding, all. Thou art!

Direct my understanding then to thee;
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart;
Though but an atom ʼmidst immensity,
Still I am something fashioned by thy hand!
I hold a middle rank, 'twixt heaven and earth,
On the last verge of being stand,
Close to the realm where angels have their birth
Just on the boundary of the spirit land!

EXERCISE 125.

The Dead Sea.-CROLY. 1 The wind blows chill across those gloomy waves ;

Oh! how unlike the green and dancing main! The

surge is foul, as if it rolled o'er graves;

Stranger, here lie the cities of the plain.
2 Yes, on that plain, by wild waves covered now,

Rose palace once, and sparkling pinnacle;
On pomp and spectacle beamed morning's glow,

On pomp and festival the twilight fell.
3 Lovely and splendid all,—but Sodom's soul

Was stained with blood, and pride, and perjury; Long warned, long spared, till her whole heart was foul,

And fiery vengeance on its clouds came nigh. 4 And still she mocked, and danced, and, taunting spoke

Her sportive blasphemies against the Throne;It came!-the thunder on her slumber broke:

God spake the word of wrath!-Her dream was done. 5 Yet, in her final night, amid her stood

Immortal messengers; and pausing Heaven, Pleaded with man, but she was quite imbued,

Her last hour waned, she scorned to be forgiven! 6 T was done!--Down pour'd at once the sulph'rous show'r,

Down stooped, in fame, the heaven's red canopy. Oh! for the arm of God, in that fierce hour!

’T was vain, nor help of God or man was nigh. 7 They rush, they bound, they howl, the men of sin;

Still stooped the cloud, still burst the thicker blaze; The earthquake heaved!—Then sank the hideous din!

Yon wave of darkness o'er their ashes strays. 8 Paris! thy soul is deeper dyed with blood,

And long, and blasphemous, has been thy day; And, Paris! it were well for thee that flood,

Or fire, could cleanse thy damning stains away.

EXERCISE 126.

New Missionary Hymn.
8. F. SMITH. Theological Student, Andover.
1 Yes, my native land, I love thee,

All thy scenes I love them well,
Friends, connexions, happy country!
Can I bid you all farewell?

Can I leave you-
Far in heathen lands to dwell?
2 Home! thy joys are passing lovely;

Joys no stranger-heart can tell!
Happy home! indeed I love thee!
Can I--can I say-Farewell?

Can I leave thee-
Far in heathen lands to dwell?
3 Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure,

Holy days and Sabbath bell,
Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure!
Can I say a last farewell?

Can I leave you—
Far in heathen lands to dwell?
4 Yes! I hasten from you gladly,

From the scenes I loved so well!
Far away, ye billows, bear me;
Lovely native land, farewell!

Pleased I leave theeFar in heathen lands to dwell. 5 In the deserts let me labor,

On the mountains let me tell,
How he died-the blessed Saviour-
To redeem a world from hell!

Let me hasten,
Far in heathen lands to dwell.
6 Bear me on, thou restless ocean;

Let the winds the canvass swell
Heaves my heart with warm emotion,
While I

go

far hence to dwell. Glad I bid thee, Native land !--FAREWELL -FAREWELL!

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