Read Ebook: Standard Catholic Readers by Grades: Fifth Year by Doyle Mary E Editor

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The Blessed Mary smiles on them, Just as, in days of yore, She smiled when in old Bethlehem Her little Babe she bore.

And saints adown the golden stair With noiseless steps oft creep, To tend these shining flowers of prayer, When Lucy is asleep.

When autumn dies, these radiant flowers Shall safe transplanted be, To bloom in Eden's greenest bowers For all eternity.

Before the Godhead they shall raise Their perfumes pure and sweet, And bloom in silent hymns of praise At Lady Mary's feet.

--J. R. MARRE.

THE TAXGATHERER

"And pray, who are you?" Said the violet blue To the Bee, with surprise At his wonderful size, In her eyeglass of dew.

"I, madam," quoth he, "Am a publican Bee, Collecting the tax Of honey and wax. Have you nothing for me?"

THE WISDOM OF ALEXANDER

Macedon melancholy philosopher countenance cypress messenger perplexity recognize vigor humiliation solitude poverty oracles alleviation company behest

The bannered hosts of Macedon stood arrayed in splendid might. Crowning the hills and filling the valleys, far and wide extended the millions in arms who waited on the word of the young Alexander--the most superb array of human power which sceptered ambition ever evoked to do its bidding.

That army was to sweep nations off the earth and make a continent its camp, following the voice of one whose sword was the index to glory, whose command was the synonym of triumph. It now stood expectant, for the king yet lingered.

While his war horse fretted at the gate, and myriads thus in silence waited his appearance, Alexander took his way to the apartment of his mother. The sole ligament which bound him to virtue and to feeling was the love of that mother, and the tie was as strong as it was tender.

In mute dejection they embraced; and Alexander, as he gazed upon that affectionate face, which had never been turned to him but in tenderness and yearning love, seemed to ask, "Shall I ever again behold that sweet smile?" The anxiety of his mother's countenance denoted the same sad curiosity; and without a word, but with the selfsame feeling in their hearts, they went out together to seek the oracles in the temple of Philip, to learn their fate.

Alone, in unuttered sympathy, the two ascended the steps of the sacred temple and approached the shrine. A priest stood behind the altar. The blue smoke of the incense curled upward in front, and the book of oracles was before him.

"Where shall my grave be digged?" said the king; and the priest opened the book and read, "Where the soil is of iron, and the sky of gold, there shall the grave of the monarch of men be digged."

To the utmost limit Asia had become the possession of the Macedonian. Fatigued with conquest, and anxious to seek a country where the difficulty of victory should enhance its value, the hero was returning to Europe. A few days would have brought him to the capital of his kingdom, when he fell suddenly ill. He was lifted from his horse, and one of his generals, unlacing his armor, spread it out for him to lie upon, and held his golden shield to screen him from the mid-day sun.

When the king raised his eyes and beheld the glittering canopy, he was conscious of the omen. "The oracle has said that where the ground should be of iron, and the sky of gold, there should my grave be made! Behold the fulfillment! It is a mournful thing! The young cypress is cut down in the vigor of its strength, in the first fullness of its beauty. The thread of life is snapped suddenly, and with it a thousand prospects vanish, a thousand hopes are crushed! But let the will of fate be done! She has long obeyed my behest! I yield myself now to hers! Yet, my mother!"

And the monarch mused in melancholy silence. At length he turned to his attendants and ordered his tablets to be brought; and he took them, and wrote, "Let the customary alms, which my mother shall distribute at my death, be given to those who have never felt the miseries of the world, and have never lost those who were dear to them;" and sinking back upon his iron couch, he yielded up his breath. They buried him where he died, and an army wept over his grave!

When the intelligence of the death of Alexander was brought to his mother, as she sat among her ladies, she was overwhelmed by anguish.

"Ah! why," she exclaimed, "was I exalted so high, only to be plunged into such depth of misery? Why was I not made of lower condition, so, haply, I had escaped such grief? The joy of my youth is plucked up, the comfort of my age is withered! Who is more wretched than I?" And she refused to be comforted.

The last wish of her son was read to her, and she resolved to perform that one remaining duty and then retire to solitude, to indulge her grief for the remainder of her life. She ordered her servants to go into the city and bring to the palace such as the will of Alexander directed--selecting those who were the poorest. But the messengers, ere long, returned, and said that there were none of that description to be found among the poor. "Go then," said the queen, "and apply to all classes, and return not without bringing some who have never lost any who were dear to them." And the order was proclaimed through all the city, and all heard it and passed on.

The neighboring villages gave no better success; and the search was extended through all the country; and they went over all Macedonia, and throughout Greece, and at every house they stood and cried, "If there are any here who have never known misery, and never lost those that were dear to them, let them come out, and receive the bounty of the queen;" but none came forth. And they went to the haunts of the gay, and into the libraries of the philosophers; to the seats of public office, and to the caves of hermits; they searched among the rich, and among the poor--among the high and among the low; but not one person was found who had not tasted misery; and they reported the result to the queen.

"It is strange!" said she, as if struck with sudden astonishment. "Are there none who have not lost their friend? And is my condition the condition of all? It is not credible. Are there none here, in this room, in this palace, who have always been happy?" But there was no reply to the inquiry.

"You, young page, whose countenance is gay, what sorrow have you ever known?"

"Alas! madam, my father was killed in the wars of Alexander, and my mother, through grief, has followed him!"

The question was put to others; but every one had lost a brother, a father, or a mother. "Can it be," said the queen, "can it be that all are as I am?"

"I recognize," said the queen, "the wisdom of Alexander!" and she bowed in resignation, and wept no more.

--HORACE BINNEY WALLACE.

THANKSGIVING

With gratitude, O God, we praise Thy holy name to-day, and raise Our hearts to thee; For all Thy gifts sent from above, For life and strength and trust and love, For liberty.

For summer days, for smiles and tears, For all our joys and hopes and fears, For storm and fair; For toil and weariness and rest; For sleep; for strength to bear the test Of pain and care;

For food and raiment, and increase Of harvest plenty, and for peace, On earth good will. O God, our Father, we this day Give thanks for all, and now we pray Be with us still!

--HENRY COYLE.

Beautiful Mother, we deck thy shrine; All that is brightest and best of ours Found in our gardens, we reckon thine,-- God thought of thee when He made the flowers.

THE ENCHANTED BARK

humor scene donkey Sancho relief leagues armor Dulcinea patience moored purpose Don Quixote

Fair and softly, and step by step, did Don Quixote and his squire wend their way through field and wood and village and farmland. Many and strange were their adventures--so many and strange, indeed, that I shall not try to relate the half of them.

At length, on a sunny day, they came to the banks of the river Ebro. As the knight sat on Rozinante's back and gazed at the flowing water and at the grass and trees which bordered the banks with living green, he felt very happy. His squire, however, was in no pleasant humor, for the last few days had been days of weary toil.

Presently Don Quixote observed a little boat which was lying in the water near by, being moored by a rope to the trunk of a small tree. It had neither oars nor sail, and for that reason it seemed all the more inviting.

The knight dismounted from his steed, calling at the same time to his squire to do the same.

"Alight, Sancho," he said. "Let us tie our beasts to the branches of this willow."

Sancho obeyed, asking, "Why do we alight here, master?"

"You are to know," answered Don Quixote, "that this boat lies here for us. It invites me to embark in it and hasten to the relief of some knight, or other person of high degree, who is in distress."

"I wonder if that is so," said Sancho.

"Certainly," answered his master. "In all the books that I have read, enchanters are forever doing such things. If a knight happens to be in danger, there is sometimes only one other knight that can rescue him. So a boat is provided for that other knight, and, in the twinkling of an eye, he is whisked away to the scene of trouble, even though it be two or three thousand leagues."

"That is wonderful," said Sancho.

"Most assuredly," answered Don Quixote; "and it is for just such a purpose that this enchanted bark lies here. Therefore let us leave our steeds here in the shade and embark in it."

"Well, well," said Sancho, "since you are the master, I must obey. But I tell you this is no enchanted bark. It is some fisherman's boat."

"They are usually fishermen's boats," said Don Quixote. "So, let us begin our voyage without delay."

He leaped into the little vessel. Sancho followed, and untied the rope. The boat drifted slowly out into the stream.

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