The scattered gleanings of a feast But if thine unrelenting heart The cheerful light, the vital air, The well taught philosophic mind If mind, as ancient sages taught,- Still shifts through matter's varying forms, Beware, lest, in the worm you crush, Or, if this transient gleam of day So may thy hospitable board With health and peace be crowned; So, when destruction lurks unseen, LESSON FORTY-THIRD. Lewis XII. of France. When Lewis XII. had, by employing every engine of violence and policy, accomplished his designs, he fell into a lingering disorder, which warned him of his approaching dissolution. But, although he seemed to expect the stroke of death, with those horrors of mind that result from a consciousness of guilt and apprehensions of punishment, he resolved to support to the last moment his absolute power, and provided, by every possible means, against any attempts which the languid state of his health might encourage his nobles to make against his authority. Concealing as much as possible his sickness, and causing reports of his convalescence to be daily circulated, he shut himself up in a castle, which he caused to be encompassed with massive bars of iron, of an extraordinary thickness, and at every corner were watchtowers, strongly guarded with soldiers. The gate was shut, and the bridge drawn up every night; and, throughout the whole day, the captains guarded their posts with the same vigilance as in a place closely besieged. Within this impregnable fortress, Lewis bade defiance to every mode of attack, while all the powers of medicine, every allurement of the sense, and all the inventions of superstition, were employed to promote his recovery. Sacred relics were brought from various parts, that their effects on his health might be tried; and St. Francis, of Paul, was invited from Calabria, in order to restore by his prayers the shattered frame of the monarch. The powers of music were employed to revive his spirits, and the most beautiful girls were procured to dance in his presence, to the sound of various instruments, for his amusement. In spite, however, of all his precautions and endeavors, death, that irresistible assailant, whose entrance, all his iron bars, strong walls, and wide ditches could not prevent, made Lewis his prey, on the 30th of August, A. D. 1483, in the sixty-first year of his age, and when the twenty-second of his reign wanted only fifteen days of its expiration. A cloudy day, lit up by transient gleams; A bowl which sparkles brightly at its brim, Such, such is life! O for a state more glorious far than this! LESSON FORTY-FIFTH. Charles XII. and his Soldier. It is well known under what severe discipline the troops of Charles XII. were kept; that they never pillaged towns taken by assault, before they received permission; that they even then plundered in a regular manner, and left off at the first signal. The Swedes boast to this day of the discipline which they observed in Saxony, while the Saxons complain of the terrible outrages they committed; contradictions, which it would be impossible to reconcile, were it not known how differently different men behold the same object. It was scarcely possible but that the conquerors would sometimes abuse their rights, as the conquered would take the slightest injuries for the most enormous outrages. One day, as the king was riding near Leipsic, a Saxon peasant came and threw himself at his feet, beseeching him to grant him justice on a grenadier, who had just taken from him what was designed for his family's dinner. The king immediately caused the soldier to be brought to him. "Is it true, " said he, with a stern countenance, "that you have robbed this man?" 66 Sire," said the soldier, "I have not done him so much injury as you have done his master; you have taken from him a kingdom, I have taken from this fellow nothing but a turkey." The king gave the peasant ten ducats with his own hand, and pardoned the soldier for the wit and boldness of his reply; saying to him, Remember, friend, that, if I have taken a kingdom from Augustus, I have kept nothing to myself." LESSON FORTY-SIXTH. The Human Paradox. How poor! how rich! how abject! how august! From different natures, marvellously mixed, An heir of glory! a frail child of dust! A worm! a god! I tremble at myself, Triumphantly distressed, what joy, what dread! What can preserve my life? or what destroy? LESSON FORTY-SEVENTH. Charles XII. and his Secretary. One day, as the king was dictating some letters to his secretary, to be sent to Sweden, a bomb fell on the house, pierced the roof, and burst near the apartment in which he was. One half of the floor was shattered to pieces; the closet where the king was employed, being partly formed out of a thick wall, did not suffer by the explosion; and, by an astonishing piece of fortune, none of the splinters that flew about in the air, entered at the closet door, which happened to be open. The report of the bomb, and the noise it occasioned in the house, which seemed ready to tumble, made the secretary drop his pen. "What is the matter, said the king, with a placid air, "why do you not |