De La Salle Fifth Reader Part 16

WHAT word is the opposite in meaning of each of these new words?

Memory Gem:

The generous heart Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.

_Tennyson_.

_27_

ebb' ing spon' sor judg' ments el' e ments tu' te lage

MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.

My oldest friend, mine from the hour When first I drew my breath; My faithful friend, that shall be mine, Unfailing, till my death.

Thou hast been ever at my side; My Maker to thy trust Consign'd my soul, what time He framed The infant child of dust.

No beating heart in holy prayer, No faith, inform'd aright, Gave me to Joseph's tutelage, Or Michael's conquering might.

Nor patron saint, nor Mary's love,-- The dearest and the best,-- Has known my being as thou hast known, And blest as thou hast blest.

Thou wast my sponsor at the font; And thou, each budding year, Didst whisper elements of truth Into my childish ear.

And when, ere boyhood yet was gone, My rebel spirit fell, Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too, Yet bear each deed of h.e.l.l.

And then in turn, when judgments came.

And scared me back again, Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe And hallow every pain.

Oh! who of all thy toils and cares Can tell the tale complete, To place me under Mary's smile, And Peter's royal feet!

And thou wilt hang above my bed, When life is ebbing low; Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom, The jealous, sleepless foe.

Mine, when I stand before my Judge; And mine, if spared to stay Within the golden furnace till My sin is burn'd away.

And mine, O Brother of my soul, When my release shall come; Thy gentle arms shall lift me then, Thy wings shall waft me home.

_Cardinal Newman._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GUARDIAN ANGEL]

Explain the following expressions:

Joseph's tutelage; Michael's conquering might; my sponsor at the font; each budding year; my rebel spirit fell; Peter's royal feet. Describe the picture.

_28_

quoth crooned frisked beech'-wood twain se'rene frol'icked wan'dering

LITTLE BELL.

Piped the blackbird on the beech-wood spray: "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way, What's your name?" quoth he,-- "What's your name? Oh, stop, and straight unfold, Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold!"

"Little Bell," said she.

Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks, Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks.

"Bonny bird," quoth she, "Sing me your best song before I go,"

"Here's the very finest song I know, Little Bell," said he.

And the blackbird piped: you never heard Half so gay a song from any bird,-- Full of quips and wiles, Now so round and rich, now soft and slow, All for love of that sweet face below, Dimpled o'er with smiles.

And the while the bonny bird did pour His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er, 'Neath the morning skies, In the little childish heart below All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow, And shine forth in happy overflow From the blue, bright eyes.

Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade, And from out the tree Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear, While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear: "Little Bell!" piped he.

Little Bell sat down amid the fern: "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return; Bring me nuts," quoth she.

Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies,-- Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes,-- And adown the tree Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun, In the little lap dropped, one by one.

Hark! how blackbird pipes to see the fun!

"Happy Bell!" pipes he.

Little Bell looked up and down the glade: "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid, Come and share with me!"

Down came squirrel, eager for his fare, Down came bonny blackbird, I declare!

Little Bell gave each his honest share; Ah! the merry three!