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Animated by such feelings, we may now regard Paul, in at must have been one of the most interesting moments of even his eventful life, preparing himself on the hill of Mars to address an auditory of Athenians on behalf of Christianity. He would feel the imposing associations of the spot on which he stood, where justice had been administered in its most awful form, by characters the most venerable, in the darkness of night, under the canopy of heaven, with the solemnities of religion, and with an authority, which legal institution and public opinion had assimilated rather with the decrees of conscience and of the gods, than with the ordinary power of human tribunals. He would look around on many an immortal trophy of architect and sculptor, where genius had triumphed, but triumphed only in the cause of that idolatry to which they were dedicated, and for which they existed. And beyond the city, clinging round its temples, like its inhabitants to their enshrined idols, would open on his view that lovely country, and the sublime ocean, and the serene heavens bending over them, and bearing that testimony to the universal Creator, which man and man's works withheld. And with all would Grecian glory be connected, the brightness of a day that was closing, and of a sun that had already set, where recollections of grandeur faded into sensations of melancholy. And he would gaze on a thronging auditory, the representatives to his fancy of all that had been, and of all that was, and think of the intellects with which he had to grapple, and of the hearts in whose very core he aimed to plant the barbed arrows of conviction. There was that multitude, so acute, so inquisitive, so polished, so athirst for novelty, and so impressible by eloquence, yet with whom a barbarian accent might break the charm of the most persuasive tongue; over whom their own oligarchy of orators would soon re-assert their dominion in spite of the invasion of a stranger; and with whom sense, feeling, and habit, would

throw up all their barriers against the eloquence of Christianity. There would be the priest, astonished at an attempt so daring; and as the speaker's design opened on his mind, anxiously, and with alternate contempt and rage, measuring the strength of the Samson who thus grasped the pillars of his temple, threatening to whelm him, his altars, and his gods, beneath their ruins. There would be the Stoic, in the coldness of his pride, looking sedately down, as on a child playing with children, to see what new game was afloat, and what trick or toy was now produced for wonderment. There the Epicurean, tasting, as it were, the preacher's doctrine, to see if it promised aught of merriment; just lending enough of idle attention not to lose amusement should it offer; and venting the full explosion of his ridicule on the resurrection of the dead. There the sophist, won perhaps into something of an approving and complacent smile, by the dexterity of Paul's introduction; but finding as he proceeded that this was no mere show of art or war of words, and vibrating between the habitual love of entangling, bewildering, and insulting an opponent, and the repulsivenes which there always is to such men in the language of honest and zealous conviction. There the slave, timidly crouching at a distance to catch what stray sounds the winds might waft to him, after they had reached his master's ears, of that doctrine, so strange and blessed, of man's fraternity. There the young and noble Roman, who had come to Athens for education—not to sit like a humble scholar at a master's feet, but with all the pride of Rome upon his brow, to accept what artists, poets, and philosophers could offer as their homage to the lords of earth. And there, perhaps, aloof, some scowling Jew, hating and hated, loathing the contamination of idolaters, but glaring with savage fury on the apostate son of Abraham (as he would deem him) who held so much communion with their souls, as to invite them to an union

of love and piety in the name of the detested Nazarene. And if for a moment Paul felt, as one would think man must feel, at being the central object of such a scene, and such an assemblage, there would rush upon his mind the majesty of Jehovah; and the words of the glorified Jesus; and the thunders that struck him to the earth on the road to Damascus; and the sense of former efforts, conflicts, and successes; and the approach of that judgment to come, whose righteousness and universality it was now his duty to announce. Unappalled and collected he began, “Ye men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious. For as I passed by and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. Whom, therefore, ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you. God that made the world and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands; neither is worshipped with men's hands, as though he needed any thing, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; and hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth."

LOCHINVAR.

Он, young Lochinvar is come out of the west!
Through all the wide border his steed was the best;
And save his good broad-sword he weapon had
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone!
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar!

none,

He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented-the gallant came late!

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar!

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, 'Mong bride's men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all! Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword— (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word) Oh come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal? young Lord Lochinvar!"

66

"I long woo'd your daughter:-my suit you denied!
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide;
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine!—
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar!"

The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup!
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye!
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,—
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace!
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume,
And the bride-maidens whisper'd "Twere better by far
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar!"

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near,
So light to the croup the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow!" quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lea,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see!
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have you e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar!

OTHELLO AND IAGO.

Iago. My noble Lord!

Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?

Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my Lady, Know of your love?

Oth. He did, from first to last; why dost thou ask?
Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought:

No farther harm.

Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?

Iago. I did not think he'd been acquainted with it.
Oth. Oh yes, and went between us very oft.
Iago. Indeed!

Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed. Discern'st thou aught in that? Is he not honest?

Iago. Honest, my Lord?

Oth. Honest!-ay, honest.

Iago. My Lord, for aught I know.

Oth. What dost thou think?

Iago. Think, my Lord?

Oth. Think, my Lord!-By Heaven, thou echo'st me,

As if there were some monster in thy thought,

Too hideous to be shown.
I heard thee say but now,
When Cassio left my wife!

Thou dost mean something; "thou likest not that,”. What didst not like?

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