Would all his skeptic doubts dismiss,
And bid him lay his pity by,
To bless the ear that ne'er has known
The voice of censure, pride, or art,
Nor trembled at that sterner tone
Which like an ice-bolt chills the heart;
And bless the lip that ne'er may tell
Of human woes the vast amount,
Nor pour those idle words that swell
The terror of our last account.
For sure the stream of noiseless course
May flow as deep, as pure, as blest,
As that which bursts in torrents hoarse,
Or whitens o'er the mountain's breast;
As sweet a scene, as fair a shore,
As rich a soil its tide may lave,
Then joyful and accepted pour
Its tribute to the Eternal wave.
The pleasures of the Friday's rehearsal were terminated by each one's quietly bringing me a written vote, on which was the name of the young lady whom they considered to have exhibited throughout the week the most faultless example.
The successful candidate, amid the greetings of her companions, was invested with the honor of Saturday
