II.  BONAPARTE.

He knew no motive’ but interst’; acknowledged no criterion’ but success’; he worshiped no God’ but ambition’; and with an eastern devotion’, he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry’.  Subsidiary to this, there was no creed’ that he did not profess’; there was no opinion’ that he did not promulgate’:  in the hope of a dynasty’, he upheld the crescent’; for the sake of a divorce’, he bowed before the cross’; the orphan of St. Louis’, he became the adopted child of the republic’; and, with a parricidal ingrati-tude’, on the ruins both of the throne and the tribune, he reared the throne of his despotism’.

At his touch crowns’ crumbled’; beggars’ reigned’; systems’ van-ished’; the wildest theories’ took the color of his whim’; and all that was venerable’ and all that was novel’, changed places with the rapidity of a drama’.  Nature had no obstacle’ that he did not surmount’; space, no opposition’ he did not spurn’; and whether amid Alpine rocks’,—­Arabian sands’,—­or Polar snows’,—–­he seemed proof’ against peril’, and empowered with ubiquity’.

III.  HAMLET ON SEEING THE SKULL OF YORICK.

Alas, poor Yorick’!  I knew him’, Horatio’; a fellow of infinite jest’, of most excellent fancy’.  He hath borne me on his back’ a thousand times’; and now’, how abhorred my imagination is’!  My gorge rises’ at it.  Here hung those lips that I have kissed’, I know not how oft’, Where be your gibes’ now? your gambols’? your songs’? your flashes of merriment’, that were wont to set the table on a roar’?  Not one’, now, to mock your own grinning’? quite chopfallen’?  Now get you to my lady’s chamber’ and tell her’, let her paint an inch thick’ to this favor’ she must come’; make her laugh at that’.

IV.  DESCRIPTION OF A BATTLE.

Yet still Lord Marmion’s falcon flew’
With wavering flight’, while fiercer grew
  Around, the battle yell. 
The border slogan rent the sky’,
A Home’! a Gordon’! was the cry’;
  Loud’ were the clanging blows’;
Advanced’,—­forced back’,—­now low’,—­now high’,
  The pennon sunk’—­and rose’;
As bends the bark’s mast in the gale’,
When rent are rigging’, shrouds’, and sail’,
  It wavered ‘mid the foes’. 
The war, that for a space did fail’,
Now trebly thundering swelled the gale’,
  And Stanley’! was the cry;
A light on Marmion’s visage spread’,
  And fired his glazing eye’:—­
With dying’ hand’, above his head’,
He shook the fragment of his blade’,
  And shouted’,—­“Victory’! 
Charge’, Chester’, charge’!  On’ Stanley’, on’!”—­
  Were the last words of Marmion.

V. LORD ULLIN’S DAUGHTER.

For the inflections and emphasis in this selection, let the pupil be guided by his own judgment.