ELEMENTS OF ENGLISH.

91

guishing airs, soft looks, and inclinations of the head; will the goddess only deign to satisfy our eyes?" (21) Upon this one of the company stepped up to present her with some fruits he had gathered by the way. (22) She received the present most sweetly smiling, and with one of the whitest hands in the world, but still not a word escaped her lips.

(23) I now found that my companions grew weary of their homage; they went off one by one, and resolving not to be left behind, I offered to go in my turn, when, just at the door of the temple, I was called back by a female whose name was Pride, and who seemed displeased at the behavior of the company. (24) "Where are you hastening?" said she to me with an angry air; "the Goddess of Beauty is here." (25) "I have been to visit her, madam," replied I, "and I find her more beautiful even than report had made her." (26) "And why then will you leave her?" added the female. (27) "I have seen her long enough," returned I, "I have got all her features by heart. (28) Her eyes are still the same. (29) Her nose is a very fine one, but it is still just such a nose as it was half an hour ago: could she throw a little more mind into her face, perhaps I should be for wishing to have more of her company."

*(30) "What signifies,” replied my female," whether she has a mind or not; has she any occasion for a mind, so formed as she is by nature? (31) If she had a common face, indeed, there might be some reason for thinking to improve it; but when features are already perfect, every alteration would but impair them. (32) A fine face is already at the point of perfection, and a fine lady should endeavor to keep it so the impression it would receive from thought would but disturb its whole economy."

(33) To this speech I gave no reply, but made the best of my way to the Valley of the Graces. (34) Here I found all those who before had been my companions in the Region of Beauty, now upon the same errand.

(35) As we entered the valley, the prospect insensibly seemed to improve; we found everything so natural, so domestic, and pleasing, that our minds, which before were congealed in admiration, now relaxed into gayety and good humor. (36) We had designed to pay our respects to the presiding goddess, but she was nowhere to be found. (37) One of our companions asserted, that her temple lay to the right; another, to the left; a third insisted that it was straight before us; and a fourth, that we had left it behind. (38) In short, we found everything familiar and charming, but could not determine where to seek for the Grace in person.

(39) In this agreeable incertitude we passed several hours, and though very desirous of finding the goddess, by no means impatient of the delay. (40) Every part of the valley presented some minute beauty, which, without offering itself, at once stole upon the soul, and captivated us with the charms of our retreat. (41) Still, however, we continued to search, and might still have continued, had we not been interrupted by a voice, which, though we could not see (from whence it came, addressed us in this manner: "If you would find the Goddess of Grace, seek her not under one form, for she assumes a thousand. (42) Ever changing under the eye of inspection, her variety, rather than her figure, is pleasing. (43) In contemplating her beauty, the eye glides over every perfection with giddy delight, and, capable of fixing nowhere, is charmed with the whole. (44) She is now Contemplation with solemn look, again Compassion with humid eye; she now sparkles with joy, soon every feature speaks distress; her looks at times invite our approach, at others repress our presumption; the goddess can not be properly called beautiful under any one of these forms, but by combining them all she becomes irresistibly pleasing." (45) Adieu.

lie

PAUL REVERE'S RIDE.

(1) Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year.

(2) He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night,

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch

Of the North Church tower, as a signal light,-~
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm.
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country-folk to be up and to arm.

(3) Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,

Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at the moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

(4) Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street,
Wanders and watches with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack-door,
The sound of arms and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

(5) Then he climbed to the tower of the church,
Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,

And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,-
Up the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.

(6) Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night-encampment on the hill,

Wrapped in silence so deep and still

That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
(7) A moment only he feels the spell

End.

Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river winds to meet the bay,-
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

(8) Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.

(9) Now he patted his horse's side,
Now gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched, with eager search,
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,

Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
(10) And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!

(11) He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.

(12) A hurry of hoofs in a village street,

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed, flying fearless and fleet;

That was all! (13) And yet, through the gloom and the light,

The fate of a nation was riding that night;

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

(14) He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;

And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

(15) It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
(16) He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

(17) It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
(18) He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,

And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,

As if they already stood aghast

At the bloody work they would look upon.