COMPLETE DICTIONARY OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS COMPRISING THE MOST EXCELLENT AND APPROPRIATE PASSAGES IN THE OLD BRITISH POETS; WITH ROM THE BEST CHOICE AND COPIOUS SELECTIONS /■ MODERN BRITISH AND AMERICAN POETS. EDITED BY SARAH JOSEPHA HALE. Aa nightingales do upon glow-worms feed. oo poets live upon the living light Of Nature and of Beauty. Bailey's Festus. aSjMiti&Jtfii 3lUatrGh8\tttM d&ngraiibg*. PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPIN C OTT & CO 1860. Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the jerr i849, by\ WRITrG, ELLIOT & iJU<, in the Clerk' b Offace of the District Court of the United States, for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. % fraoaf e , 1« 21 ^ PEEFACE. On presenting to the public this Dictionary of Poetical Quotations, the onlj complete work of the kind in the English language, the best preface will be its history. About twenty years ago the plan was originated by John F. Addington, an English- man, then residing in this city; but he devoted his attention almost exclusively to the old British Bards. His labours were valuable, still the work was incomplete; the modern writers of poetry, both English and American, with a few exceptions in favour of the former, were wholly omitted. Then his selections were not always in accordance with the present standard of public taste. The old dramatic poets wrote according to their light, which was often reflected through a foul medium, and revealed much that is now considered, and justly, too, as coarse and indelicate. The text of Mr. Addington' s selections required revision; still, he deserves much credit for his perseverance and research, and the study he devoted " to rescue from the reckless tooth of time some of the finest thoughts and most vivid images of tne ancient fathers of English poetry." His selections from Shakspeare were copious ; and also from Byron, the only modern poet that he much favoured. To the present Editor was committed the task of revising the original work, and adding thereto selections from the modern British and American poets. This required the examination of a multitude of volumes, and much care and study, in order to exhibit, as far as possible, the characteristic excellence of each author. A difficult and delicate task it is to select from living poets, — especially when there are so many ! The index shows an array of over four hundred authors ; thus, at a glance, may be seen how wide has been the field of research. Besides the new quotations introduced under every head, quite a number of new sub- jects have been added, making the plan complete, and furnishing a Manual of Poetical Extracts, alphabetically arranged, which will serve to interpret every passion, emotion, and feeling of the human soul. Here, also, every condition and pursuit of life may find its motto or character, and the beauties of Nature and Art their truest description. In short, the book is a precious casket, where the most perfect gems of Genius the Anglo- Saxon literature has preserved for the last three hundred years are garnered. The chro- nological order of the quotations is preserved, and thus the curious reader may trace the progressive improvements of the one language, forming now the bond of union between two great nations, whose children of song are here, for the first time, united. In the American portion, the striking characteristics of the poetry are devotion to nature, patriotism, and deep religious sentiment. This sentiment it is which makes poetry so popular in our country; and while the work now submitted contains such treasures of holy and beautiful thoughts as no other collection of poetry can show, the Editor and Publishers flatter themselves its merits will ensure it a welcome reception. Philadelphia, January, 1850. tit, LIST OF AUTHORS QUOTED IN THIS WORK, BRITISH. Addison, Joseph Akenside, Mark Aleyn, Charles Armstrong. John Bailey, Philip J. Baillie, Miss Joanna Bancroft, John Barbauld, Mrs. Anna Letitia Baron, Robert Barrett, Miss Elizabeth B. Barry, Ludovick Barion, Bernard Bayley, Thomas Haynes Beattie, James Beaumont, Sir John Behn, Mrs. Aphra Belloe, William Black lock, Dr. Thomas Blackmore, Sir Richard Blair, Robert Bloomfield, Robert Bowles, William Lisle Bowring, Dr. Brandon, Samuel Brewer, Anthony Brome, Alexander Brome, Richard Brooke, Henry Beller Brooke, Lord Browne, Will»m Browning. Robert Brydges, Sir Edgerton Buckingham, Duke of Bulwer. Sir Edward Lytton Burns, Robert Butler, Mrs. Frances Kemble Butler, Samuel Byron, George, Lord Campbell, Thomas Carew, Lady Carew, Thomas Cartwright, William Chamberlaine, Robert Chapman, George Chandler, Mary Churchill, Charles Cibber, Colley Cleaveland. John Coleridge. Samuel Taylor Collins, William Colton. C. C. Congreve, William Cook, Miss Eliza Cooke, Thomas Corbel, Richard Cotton, Charles Cowley, Abraham Cowper, William Crabbe, George Croley, George F. Crown, John Cumberland, Richard Cunningham, Allan Daniel. Samuel Darcy, Sir Patrick Darwin, Dr. Erasmus Daubome, Robert. Davenant, Sir William Davenport, Sir Cliristopher Davis, Sir John Day, John Decker, Thomas Denham, Sir John Dennis, John Donne, Dr. John Dow, Alexander Draylon, Michael Drummond, George Hay Dryden, John Duncome, William Dyer, John Elliott, Ebenezer Etherege, Sir George Faber, F. W. Falconer, William Falkland, Lord Fane, Sir Francis Fawkes, Francis Fenton, Elijah Fielding, Henry Fleknoe, Richard Fletcher, John Ford, John Forster, Dr. Fountain, John Franklin. Dr. Thomas Francis, Sir Philip Freeman. Sir Ralph Frowde, Philip Garth, Sir Samuel Gasroigne George Say John Gifford, William Glover, Richard Goffe, William Goldsmith, Oliver Gomersal, Robert Grahame, James Gray, Thomas Green, Robert Habbington, William Hall, John Hammond, Anthony Hastings, Lady Flora Hawkins, Sir John Hayley, William Havard, William Haywood, Mrs. Elizabeth Heath, Robert Heber, Reginald Hemans, Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Herbert, George Herbert. William Herrick, Robert Hervey, Thomas K. Hey wood, John Higgons, Bevil Hill, Aaron Hill, George Hogg, Thomas Holford, Mrs. Holland, Lord Home, John Hood, Thomas Hopkins, Charles Howard, Sir Robert Howell, James Howitt, Mrs. Mary Hunt, Leigh Hunt, Sir A. Jeffreys, George Jephson, Robert Jenyns, Soame Jewsbury, Miss Maria Jane Johnson, Charles Johnson, Dr. Samuel Jones, Sir William Jonson, Ben Keats. John Rett, Henry Killegrew, Henry King, Dr. Henry Knowles, James Sheridan Lamb, Charles Lamb, Hon. George Landon, Miss Letitia Elizabeth Langhome, Dr. John Lansdown, George, L'd Granville Lee, Nathaniel Lewis, Matthew Gregory Lillo, George Lilly, John Llywelyn, Sion Lodge, Dr. Thomas Lovelace, Richard Lyttleton, George, Lord Macaulay, Thomas Babington Macklin, Charles Madden. Dr. Samuel Mallet, David Manners, Lady Mark ham, Gervase Marlowe, Christopher Marmyon, Sheckerly Marsh, Narcissus Marston, John Martyn, John Marvel, Andrew Mason, William Massinger, Philip Maturin, Charles Robert May, Thomas Mead, Robert Middleton, Thomas Miller, James Milman. Henry Halt Milnes, Richard M. Milton, John Montgomery, James Montgomery, Robert Moore, Thomas More, Mrs. Hannah Motherwell, William Mottley, John Murphy, Arthur Nabb, T. Nevil, Robert Norton, Hon. Mrs. Caroline Ogilvie, Dr. John Oldham, John Oldmixon, John Opie, Mrs. Amelia Orrery, Lord Osborne, Francis Otway, Thomas Overbury, Sir Thomas Parnell, Thomas Patterson. James Pattison, William Peter, William Philips, Ambrose Philips, John Pollock, Robert Pomfret, John Pope, Alexander Porteus, Dr. Beilby Powell, George Praed, Winthrop M. Proctor, Bryan Waller Quarles. Francis Raleigh, Sir Walter Randolph, Thomas Rawlins, Thomas Richards, Nathaniel Rider, William Robinson, Mrs. Mary Rochester, Earl of Rogers, Samuel Roscommon, Earl of Rowe, Nicholas Rowley, Samuel Rowley, William Russell, Lord John Rutter, Joseph Sampson, Henry Savage, Richard Scott, Sir Walter Sewell. George Shadwell, Thomas Shakspeare, William Shelley. Percy Bysshe Siienstone, William Sheridan, Richard Brinsley Shirley, James Sidney, Sir Philip Smith, Horace Smith, William Smollett, Dr. Tobias Somerville, William Southern, Thomas Southey, Mrs. Caroline Sou they, Robert Southwell, Robert / Spenser, Edmund < Sterling, John } Stiilingfleet, Benjamin J Suckling, Sir John (Swift, Dr. Jonathan Talfourd, Thomas Noon Tate, Nahum Taylor, Henry Tennyson, Alfred Thomson, James Thompson, William Tickell. Thomas Tighe, Mrs. Mary Tonna, Mrs. Charlotte Elizabeth Trapp, Joseph Tupper, Martin Farquhar Vincent, William Waller, Edmund Walton, Isaac Watkins, Roland Watts, Alaric A. W'ebster, John White, Henry Kirke Whitehead. William Wilkie, William Wilkins, John Wilson, Arthur Wolcot, Dr. John Wordsworth, William Young, Edward Colton, Walter Cooke, Philip P Coxe, Arthur Cleaveland Cranch, C. P. Dana, Richard H. Davidson, Miss Lucretia M. Davidson. Miss Margaret M. Dawes, Rufus Dinnies, Mrs. Anna Peyre Doane, George Washington Drake, Joseph Rodman Duganne, A. J. H. Dwight, Timothy Eames, Mrs. Elizabeth J. Eastburn, James Wallis Ellet. Mrs. Elizabeth F. Embury, Mrs. Emma C. Emerson, Ralph Waldo Everest, C. W. Everett, Edward Fields, James T. Franklin, Dr. Benjamin Frisbie, Levi Fuller, Miss S. Margaret Gallagher, William D. Gilman, Mrs. Caroline Gould. Miss Hannah F. < Gray, Thomas, Jr. ? Hale, Mrs. Sarah Josepha ) Hall, Mrs. Louisa J. < Halleck, Fitz Greene ( Hillhouse, James A. Hirst, Henry B. AMERICAN. Adams, John Quincy Aldrich, James Allston, Washington Barker, James N. Barlow, Joel Bates, David Benjamin, Park Bethune. George Washington Bird, Robert M. Bogart, Miss Elizabeth Boker, Charles Brainard. J. G. C. Brooks, James G. Brooks, Mrs. Maria Bryant, John H. Bryant, William Cullen Burleigh, William H. Carey, Miss Alice Carey, Miss Phoebe Chandler, Mrs Caroline H. Chandler, Mrs. Elizabeth M. Clark, W 7 illis Gaylord Clarke, Miss Sara J. Coe, Richard, Jr. Hoffman, Charles Fenno i Holmes, Dr. Oliver Wendell < Hooper, Miss Lncy Hosmer, William C. IL Howe, Mrs. Julia W. Hoyt, Ralph Humphreys, David Judson, Mrs. Emily C. Kinney, Mrs. Elizabeth C. Leggett, William Lewis. Mrs. Sarah Anna Longfellow, Henry Wordswortk Lowell, James Russell Lowell, Mrs. Maria Lunt, George Lynch, Miss Anne C. Mathews, Cornelius May, Miss Caroline Mellen, Granville Morris, George P. Morns, Robert Mackellar, Thomas McLellan, Isaac Neal, John Neal, Mrs. J. C. Nichol, John Nichols, Mrs. R. S. Noble, L. L. Norton, Andrews Osgood, Mrs. Frances S. Pabodie, W'illiam J. Palmer, William Pitt Parsons, Thomas W. Patterson, Samuel D. Peabody, William B. O. Percival, James Gates Pickering, Henry Pierpont, John Pierson, Lydia Jane Pinckney, Edward C. Poe, Edgar A. Prentice, George D. Read, T. Buchanan Rockwell, J. O. Sands, Robert C. Sargent, Epes Sargent, John 0. Sawyer, Mrs. Caroline M. Sigourney, Mrs. Lydia H. Simnis, William Gilmore Smith, Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes Sprague, Charles Stoddard, Mrs. Lavinia Stoddard. R. H. Street, Alfred B. Taylor, J. Bayard Thomas, F. W. Thomson, Charles West Tuckerman, Henry T. Very. Jones Wallace. William } Ware, Henry, Jr. I Ward. Thomas ^ Welby, Mrs. Amelia B. j Whitman, Mrs. Sarah Helen. \ Whittier, John G. S Wilcox, Carlos I Wilde, Richard Henry \ Willis, Nathaniel Parker S V'oodworth, Samuel \ W crthington, Mrs. Jane T (iv TABLE OF CONTENTS Absence Absentees Abstinence Accident Acclammation. .. , Accomplishments Accusation Action Activity Adversity >Advice Adieu Affection Age Agriculture Alarm, Amazement Ambition America Ancestry Angels Anger .... Angling Animals , Antipathy Antiquary , Apparel Appearances Applause Architecture Arbour Argument Arms Army Art Artifice Astonishment Atheist Authors Authority Autumn Avarice Awkwardness . . . Page Books .. 7 I Bounty.. 9 > Brevity.. 9 Bribery. . 9 Building. Banishment Bargain Battle Beard Beauty Bed Bees , Beggar Benefits Bieotry Birds ..' Birth Birthday Blindness... Bluntness . Blushing . ... Boasting Calamity Calm Candour Care Cause Caution Celibacy Ceremony Challenge Change Character Charity Chastity Cheerfulness Childhood and Children Choice Church Clergy and Churchmen Church-yard Circumvention City and Citizens .... Clouds Comet Comfort Commonwealth Company. .. Compassion Complaint Compliments Concealments Conceit Confidence Conscience Conspiracy Consideration Constancy Contemplation Contempt Content Conversation Coquette Corpulence Corruption Country Country Life Courace Court Courtesy Courtier Courtship Cowardice Cowards Coxcomb Craft Credulity Critics and Criticism. . Crown 107 Cruelty 108 Curiosity 109 Curses 109 Custom Ill D. Dancing 112 Dandy 112 Danger 113 Death 113 Debts 124 Decay 124 Deceit 125 Declaration 126 Defiance 126 Deformity 129 Deity 130 Delay 131 Delicacy 132 Deluge 132 Defendants 132 Deputy 132 Design 133 Desire 133 Despair 133 Despondency 138 Destiny 138 Destruction 138 Determination 138 Detraction.. 138 Dew 138 Devotion 139 Dignity 139 Dinner 139 Disappointment.... 139 Discontent 139 Discord 140 Discretion 140 Disease^ 140 Dishonesty 140 Displeasure 140 Disposition 140 Doubt 141 Dreams 141 Dress 143 Drowning 143 Drums 1 143 Drunkenness 143 Duelling 145 Duty 145 E. Earth 146 Earthquake 146 Eating 146 Ecstacy 146 Education 146 Egotism 147 Elegance 147 Eloquence 147 Emigration 149 Emulation .... . 150 (v) Enemy I5ri Engagemen 150 England 150 Enjoyment 152 Ennui 153 Enthusiasm ]53 Envy 153 Equality 155 Error 155 Etiquette 155 Evening 156 Evil 157 Example 15? Excellence 158 Execution 158 Exercise 158 Exile 158 Experience 160 Expectation 160 Extravagance 161 Extremes 361 Eyes J61 F. Faction 163 Fairies 163 Faith 164 Fall 165 Falsehood 165 Fame 166 Fancy 169 Farewell 170 Farmer 170 Father 170 Fashion 171 Fate 171 Favour 172 Fear 172 Feasting 174 Features 175 Fortune-Tellers..... . 187 ; France 188 1 Freedom 189 Free-Will "189 ( Friendship ''90 ( Funeral Intellect 267 Invention 267 ) Irresolution .... Italy Knaves 283 ) Knighthood 283 $ Knowledge 284 I L. Labour 285 \ Law 287 Learning 288 Letters 290 Liberty 291 Life 293 Light 303 { Lion 303 London 304 Love 304 \ Lovers 326 \ Lust 327 Luxury 328 M. Madness 328 Man 329 Marriage 337 Meeting 342 Melancholy 343 Memory 344 Mercy 346 Merit 347 Messenger 348 Mind 348 Mirth 350 Mischief. 351 Miser 351 Misfortune 352 Mob 352 Modesty 353 Moon. Moonlight. ... 354 Morning 357 Mother 361 Mountains 363 Mourning 364 Murder 365 Music 367 N. Name 372 Nature 372 ! Necessity 375 : News 376 Night 377 Nightingale 381 Nobility 382 Novelty 383 Nun 383 J. Jail 268 Jealousy 268 Jest 272 Joy 272 Judge 274 Judgment 274 Justice 275 K. Kindness 277 Kins* 278 Kiss. 282 Oaths 384 Obituary 385 Oblivion 386 Obstinacy 386 Ocean 386 Offence 388 Office 388 Opinion 389 Opportunity 389 Oppression 390 Orator 390 P. Pain 391 Parasite 391 Parents 391 Parting 392 Passion 395 Patience 397 267 | Patriotism :.... 398 267 < Peace 401 \ Peasant 402 \ Pen 403 Perfection 404 Perseverance 404 Philanthropy 404 Philosophy 405 Phrenology 407 Physic 407 Pity 408 Players 409 Pleasure 409 Poets 411 Politeness 416 Politics 416 Popularity 417 ) Portrait 419 i Poverty 420 \ Praise 422 Prayer 423 ', Preferment 425 < Press 426 Pride 426 Prison 428 Prodigality 428 Prodigies 429 Promises 430 Proposal 430 Prosperity 432 Providence 433 Prudence 434 Punishment 434 Purity 435 Q. Quacks 436 R. Rage 436 Rain 437 Rainbow 437 Reapers 437 Reason 438 Rebellion 438 Reciprocity 442 Reconciliation 442 Refinement 442 Reflection 442 Reformation 442 Regicide 442 Religion 443 Remembrance 445 Repentance 446 Reproof 448 Reputation 448 Resolution 449 Resurrection 450 Retirement 450 Revenge 454 Riches 457 Rivers 458 Ruins 459 Rumour 460 S. Sabbath 461 Safety 462 Sailor.. 462 Satan 462 Satiety 463 Satire 464 School 465 Scold 466 Scorn 466 Scotland 467 Secresy 467 Seduction 468 Selfishness 469 Senses 470 Sensibility -. 470 Servants. Service. . . . 471 Sexton 471 Shame 471 Shepherd 472 Ship 472 Shipwreck 473 Shooting 475 Silence 476 Sin 477 Sincerity 477 Single Life 478 Skull 479 Slander 479 Slavery 483 Sleep 485 Society 487 Soldier 489 Solitude 492 Sorrow 496 Soul 498 Spleen 500 Splendour 500 Spring 500 Sportn 502 Stars 502 Stato&^idJi 502 Storm 503 Stu b'jornne^f 503 Study 503 Style 504 Submission 504 Succrfs 504 Suicide 504 Summer 506 Sun 507 Superiority 508 Superstition 508 Surprise 509 Suspense 509 Suspicion 509 Swan 509 Swimming 509 Sycophant 509 Sympathy 509 T. Talking 511 Taste 512 Taxation 512 Teacher 513 Tears 513 Temper 515 Tempest 515 Tern perance 518 Temptation 519 Thieves 520 Thought 520 Threatening 521 Thirst 522 Time 522 Timidity 525 Titles 525 Token 525 To-morrow 526 Torture 52"' Transport 527 Traveller 527 Treason 528 Triumph 530 Truth 530 Twilight 531 Tyranny 532 U. Unanimity 535 Unbelief 535 Usurper 535 V. Vanity 535 Variety 536 Vice 536 Vicissitude 537 Victory 537 Villain 538 Virtue 538 Voice 541 Volcano 542 W. War 542 Water 548 Wealth 549 Widow 550 Wife 551 Winds 553 Wine 554 Winter 555 Wisdom 556 Wit 556 Witches 553 Woman 559 Wonder 566 Words 566 World , 567 Y. . Yeoman 57C Yes 571 Yew-trre 571 Youth 571 Zeal... Z. 576 POETICAL QUOTATIONS ABSENCE. as the culver on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate, And in her songs sends many a wishful vow For his return that seems to linger late ; So I, alone now left, disconsolate, Mourn to myself the absence of my love ; And wandering here and there all desolate, Seek, with my plaints, to match that mournful dove. Edmund Spenser. Though absent, present in desires they be ; Our souls much further than our eyes can see. Michael Drayton. Our two souls, therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion ; Like gold to airy thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two; The soul, the fixt foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if th' other do. And though it in the centre sit, Yet when the other far doth roam, It leans and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run : Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun. Dr. John Donne. It is as if a night should shade noon-day, Or that the sun was here, but forced away ; And we were left, under that hemisphere, Where we must feel it dark for half a year. Ben Jonson. Short absence hurt him more, And made his wound far greater than before ; Absence not long enough to root out quite AL *ove, increases love at second sight. Thomas May's Henry II. I do not doubt his love, but I could wish His presence might confirm it : when I see A fire well fed, shoot up its wanton flame, And dart itself into the face of heaven ; I grant that fire, without a fresh supply, May for a while be still a fire ; but yet How doth its lustre languish, and itself Grow dark, if it too long want the en brace Of its loved pyle ! how straight it buried lies In its own ruins ! Robert Mead's Comfort of Love and Friendtftip If she be gone, the world, in my esteem, Is all bare walls ; nothing remains in it But dust and feathers. John Crown's Ambitious Statesman. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ; Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, And leave no memory of what it was ! Repair me with thy presence, Sylvia ; Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain. Slwkspeare's Two Gent, of Verona. What! keep a week away? Seven days and nights ? Eight score eight hours ? and lovers' absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times ? O weary reckoning! Shahs. Othello. Without your sight my life is less secure ; Those wounds you gave, your eyes can only cure , No balm in absence will effectual prove, Nature provides no weapon salve for love. Sir Robert Howard's Vestal Virgin Thus absence dies, and dying proves No absence can subsist with loves That do partake of fair perfection ; Since, in the darkest night, they may, By love's quick motion, find a way To see eacu other in reflection. Siufoifift (7) 8 ABSENCE. Every moment I 'm from thy Might, the heart within my hosom Moans like a tender infant in its cradle, Whose nurse had left it. Otway's Venice Preserved. Love reckons hours for months, and days for years ; And every little absence is an age. Dryderi's Amphictrion. All flowers will droop in absence of the sun That waked their sweets. Dryderi's Aurenzebe. Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore, And image charms he must behold no more. Pope's Eloisa. No happier task these faded eyes pursue ; To read and weep is all they now can do. Pope's Eloisa. Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'T is sure the hardest science to forget ! Pope's Eloisa. Unequal task ! a passion to resign, For hearts so touch'd, so pierced, so lost as mine ! Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state, How often must it love, how often hate, How often hope, despair, resent, regret, Conceal, disdain — do all things but forget ! Pope's Eloisa. There 's not an hour Of day or dreaming night but I am with thee : There 's not a wind but whispers of thy name, And not a flower that sleeps beneath the moon But in its hues or fragrance tells a tale Of thee. Proctor's Mcrandola. Methinks I see thee straying on the beach, And asking of the surge that bathes thy foot If ever it has wash'd our distant shore. Coivpefs Task. Not to understand a treasure's worth Till time has stol'n away the slighted good, Is cause of half the poverty we feel, And makes the world the wilderness it is. Cowper's Task. Her fancy follow'd him through foaming waves To distant shores, and she would sit and weep At what a sailor suffers. Fancy, too, Delusive most where warmest wishes are, Would oft anticipate his glad return, And dream of transports she was not to know. Cowper's Task. W here'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart, untravel'd, fondly turns to thee : Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And draffs at saoh remove a lengthening chain. Goldsmiths Traveller. O tell him I have sat these three long hours, Counting the weary beatings of the clock, Which slowly portion'd out the promis'd time That brought him not to bless me with his sight Joanna Baillie's Rayner Yes, The limner's art may trace the absent feature, And give the eye of distant weeping faith To view the form of its idolatry ; But oh ! the scenes 'mid which they met and parted, The thoughts — the recollections sweet and bitter, Th' Elysian dreams of lovers, when they loved, Who shall restore them ? Less lovely are the fugitive clouds of eve, And not more vanishing. Maturiris Bertram. Bertram, Bertram ! How sweet it is to tell the list'ning night The name beloved. It is a spell of power To wake the buried slumberers of the heart, Where memory lingers o'er the grave of passion Watching its tranced sleep. The thoughts of other days are rushing on me, The loved, — the lost, — the distant, and the dead, Are with me now, and I will mingle with them Till my sense fails, and my raised heart is wrapt In secret suspension of mortality. Maturiris Bertram, Long did his wife, Suckling her babe, her only one, look out The way he went at parting, — but he came not . Rogers's Italx> There as she sought repose, her sorrowing heart Recall'd her absent love with bitter sighs ; Regret had deeply fix'd the poison'd dart, Which ever rankling in her bosom lies : In vain she seeks to close her weary eyes, Those eyes still swim incessantly in tears, Hope in her cheerless bosom fading dies, Distracted by a thousand cruel fears, While banish'd from his love for ever she appears, Mrs. Tighe's Psyche, As slow our ship her foamy track Against the wind was cleaving, Her trembling pennant still look'd back To that dear isle 'twas leaving. So loath we part from all we love, From all the links that bind us ; So turn our hearts, where'er we rove, To those we've left behind us. T. Moore, Oh ! couldst thou but know With what a deep devotedness of woe ABSENTEES - ABSTINENCE - ACCIDENT - ACCLAMATIONS. I wept thy absence, o'er and o'er again Thinking of thee, still fhee, till thought grew pain, And memory, like a drop that night and day Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away ! Moore's Lalla Rookh. A boat at midnight sent alone To drift upon the moonless sea, A lute, whose leading chord is gone, A wounded bird, that hath but one Imperfect wing to soar upon, Axe like what I am, without thee ! Moore's Loves of the Angels. 'Tis scarcely Two hours since ye departed : two long hours To mo, but only hours upon the sun. Byron's Cain. Wives, in their husbands' absence, grow subtler, And daughters sometimes run off with the butler. Byron's Don Juan. Absent many a year Far o'er the sea, his sweetest dreams were still Of that dear voice that soothed his infancy. Robert Souihey. We must part awhile : A few short months — though short, they must be long Without thy dear society ; but yet We must endure it, and our love will be The fonder after parting — it will grow Intenser in our absence, and again Burn with a tender glow when I return. PercivaVs Poems. When from land and home receding, And from hearts that ache to bleeding, Think of those behind, who love thee, While the sun is bright above thee ! Then, as down the ocean glancing, With the waves his rays are dancing, Think how long the night will be To the eyes that weep for thee. Miss Gould's Poems. Call thou me home ! from thee apart Faintly and low my pulses beat, As if the life-blood of my heart Within thine own heart holds its seat, And floweth only where thou art : Oh! call me home. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith. ABSENTEES. We yet retain Some small pre-eminence ; we justly boast At least superior jockeyship, and claim The honours of the turf as all our own. Go then, well worthy of the praise ye seek, And show the shame ye might conceal at home In foreign eyes ! — be grooms and win the plate, Where once your nobler fathers won a crown. Compels Tas* ABSTINENCE. Against diseases here the strongest fence Is the defensive virtue abstinence. Robert Merrick His life is parallel' d Ev'n with the stroke and line of his great justice ; He doth with holy abstinence subdue That in himself, which he spurs on his pow'r To qualify in others. Shaks. Meas. for Meat. Yet in abstinence in things we must profess Which nature fram'd for need, not for excess. Brown's Pastorals. ACCIDENT. If we i ;onsider accident, And how repugnant unto sense It pays desert with bad event, We shall disparage providence. Sir William Davenanfs Cruel Brother. As the unthought-on accident is guilty Of what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies Of every wind that blows. Shaks. Winter Tale ACCLAMATIONS. It is a note Of upstart greatness to observe and watch For those poor trifles, which the noble mind Neglects and scorns. Johnson's Sejanus His speech was answered wuth a general noise Of acclamation, doubtless signs of joys Which soldiers uttered as they forward went, The sure forerunner of a fair event. Sir John Beaumont When all thy mountains clap their hands in joy. And all thy cataracts thunder — M That 's the Doy !" O. W. Holm* 1C ACCOMPLISHMENTS - ACCUSATION - ACTION - ACTIVITY. ACCOMPLISHMENTS. She is of the hest blood, yet betters it With all the graces of an excellent spirit: Mila as the infant rose, and innocent As when hcav'n lent her us. Her mind as well As face, is yet a paradise untainted With blemishes, or the spreading weeds of vice. Robert Baron's Mirza. Her even carriage is as far from coyness As from immodesty; — in play, in dancing, In suffering courtship, in requiting kindness, In use of places — hours — and companions, Free as the sun, and nothing more corrupted ; As circumspect as Cynthia in her vows, And constant as the centre to observe them. George Cliajpman. Accomplishments were native to her mind, Like precious pearls within a clasping shell, And winning grace her every act refined, Like sunshine shedding beauty where it fell. Mrs. Hale. ACCUSATION. Give me good proofs of what you have alleged: 'Tis not enough to say — in such a bush There lies a thief- — in such a cave a beast, — But you must show him to me ere I shoot, Else I may kill one of my straggling sheep : I'm fond of no man's person but his virtue. Crown's 1st part of Henry VI. None have accused thee ; 'tis thy conscience cries, The witness in the soul that never dies ; Its accusation, like the moaning wind, Of wintry midnight moves thy startled mind; Oh ! may it melt thy hardened heart, and bring From out thy frozen soul the life of spring. Mrs. Hale. ACTION. A way then, — work with boldness and with speed, On greatest actions greatest dangers feed. Marloe's Lust of Dominion. Whilst timorous knowledge stands considering Audacious ignorance hath done the deed. For who knows most, the more he knows to doubt ; Vno ieast discourse is commonly most stout. Daniel. For good and well must in our actions meet; Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet. Dr. Donnie. Good actions crown themselves with lasting baya, Who deserves well needs not another's praise. HeatJCs Clarestella* Of every noble action, the intent Is to give worth reward, — vice punishment. Beaumont and Fletcher's Captain. If thou docst ill, the joy fades, not the pains ; If well, the pain doth fide, the joy remains. George Herbert. The body sins not, 'tis the will That makes the action good or ill. Herrich. He that pursues an act that is attended With doubtful issues, for the means, had need Of policy and force to make it speed. T. Nabb's Unfortunate Mother. Be just in all thy actions, and if join'd With those that are not, never change thy mind ; If aught obstruct thy course, yet stand not still, But wind about till thou hast topp'd the hill. Denham Actions rare and sudden, dt commonly Proceed from fierce necessity: or else From some oblique design, which is asham'd To show itself in the public road. Sir William Davenant Our unsteady actions cannot be Manag'd by rules of strict philosophy. Sir Robert Howard, Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, Those call it pleasure, and contentment these. Pope. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or sway; But to act, thac each to-morrow Finds us fanner than to-day. Longfellow's 1 oems ACTIVITY. Celerity is never more admired Than by the negligent. Shaks. Ant. and Cleo, If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly. Shaks. Macbeth Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, But cheerly seek how to redress their harm. Shaks. Henry VI Our remedies oft in ourselves do. lie, Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated skjr Gives us free scope ; only doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. Shaks. AIVs wB ADVERSITY, 11 Take the instant way ; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast : keep then the path : For emulation hath a thousand sons, That one by one pursue : if you give way, Dr edge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost. Shaks. Troi. and Cress. Let's take the instant by the forward top ; For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees, The inaudible and noiseless foot of time Steals, ere we can effect them. Shaks. AWs well. Come, — I have learn'd, that fearful commenting Is laden servitor to dull delay; Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary. Then fiery expedition be my wing, Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king ! Go, muster men : my counsel is my shield : We must be brief, when traitors brave the field. Shaks. Richard III. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits : The nighty purpose never is o'ertook, Unless the deed go with it : from this moment, The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To orown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done. Shaks. Macbeth. Due entrance he disdain'd, and in contempt At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of bill or highest wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. Milton's Paradise Lost. How slow the time To the warm soul, that, in the very instant It forms, would execute a great design ! Thomson's Coriolanus. The keen spirit Seizes the prompt occasion, — makes the thought Start into instant action, and at once Plans and performs, resolves and executes ! Hannah Morels Daniel. My days, though few, have passed below [n much of joy though more of woe ; Vet still, in hours of love or strife, f've 'scap'd the weariness of life. Byron's Giaour. Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footsteps on the sands of time. Longfellow s Poems. Let us then be up and doing ; With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait. Longfellow. Run if you like, but try to koep your breath ; Work like a man, but don't be work'd to death. O. W. Holmes ADVERSITY. He who hath never warr'd with misery, Nor ever tugg'd with fortune and distress, Hath had n' occasion, nor no field to try The strength and forces of his worthiness ; Those parts of judgment which felicity Keeps as conceal'd, affliction must express, And only men show their abilities, And what they are, in their extremities. Daniel on the Earl of Southampton. By adversity are wrought The greatest works of admiration, And all the fair examples of renown, Out of distress and misery are grown. Daniel on the Earl of Southampton. Not one care wanting hour my life had tasted ; But from the very instant of my birth, Incessant woes my tired heart have wasted, And my poor thoughts are ignorant of mirth. Look how one wave another still pursueth, When some great tempest holds their troops in chase ; Or as one hour another close reneweth, Or posting day supplies another's place, So do the billows of affliction beat me, And hand in hand the storms of mischief go ; Successive cares with utter ruin threat me, Grief is enchain'd with grief, and woe with woe. Samuel Brandon's Octavia. Through danger safety comes — through trouble rest. John Marston. Perfumes, the more they're chaf'd the more they render Their pleasant scents ; and so affliction Expresseth virtue fully, whether true Or else adulterate. John Welstei . Like a ball that bounds According to the force with which 'twas throwv So in affliction's violence, he that's wise, The more he's cast down, will the higher rise, NahVs MicrccosmiH Though affliction, at the first, doth vox Most virtuous natures, from the bciise that 'tis ADVERSITY. Unjustly lain ; yet when the amazement, which That new pa in brings, is worn away, they then Embrace oppression straight, with such Obedient cheerfulness, as if it came From heaven, not man. Sir William Davenanfs Fair Favourite. Sweet arc the uses of adversity ; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head : And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. Shaks. As you like it. As we do turn our backs From our companion, thrown into his grave ; So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away ; leave their false vows with him, fake empty purses pick'd : and this poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, Walks, like contempt, alone. Shaks. Timon. Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels, Be sure you be not loose ; for those you make friends, And give your hearts to, when they once perceive The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, never found again, But where they mean to sink ye. Shaks. Henry VIII. Then was I a tree, Whose boughs did bend with fruit ; but, in one night, A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to weather. Shaks. Cymleline. Such a house broke ! So noble a master fallen ! all gone ! and not One friend, to take his fortune by the arm, And go along with him. SJiaks. Timon. But myself Who had the world as my confectionary, The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men At duty, more than I could frame employment; 'Itiat numberless upon me stuck, as leaves Do on the oak, have, with one winter's brush Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare For every storm that blows ; I, to bear this, That never knew but better, is some burden. Shaks. Timon. They answer in a joint and corporate voice, Than now they are at fall, — want treasure — canno* Do what they would ; are sorry — you are honou* able — But yet they could have wish'd — they knew not — Something had been amiss — a noble nature May catch a wrench — would all were all well — 'tis pity — And so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions, With certain half caps, and cold moving nods, They froze me into silence. Shaks. Timon Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ; 'Tis just the fashion : wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? Shaks. As you like it Nay then farewell! I have touch'd the highest point of all my great- ness; And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting ; I shah fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more Shaks. Henry VIII O father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity. Shaks. Henry fllj His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him , For then, and not till then, he felt himself And found the blessedness of being little And, to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died, fearing God. Shaks Kenry VIII. 'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with for- tune, Must fall out with men too : what, tne declin'd is, He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, As feel in his own fall ; for men, like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings but to the summer. Shaks. Troi. and Cres. If I once fall, how many knees, now bending, Would stamp the heel of hate into my breast ! Sir A. Hunt's Julian I am not now in fortune's power : He that is down, can fall no lower. Butler's Hudibras Now let us thank th' eternal power ; convine'd That heaven but tries our virtue by affliction : That oft the cloud which wraps the present hour, Serves but to brighten all our future days. Brown's Barha^ossa ADVERSITY. 13 Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge, and torturing hour, The bad affright, afflict the best! Bound in thy adamantine chain, The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone. Gray's Hymn to Adversity. The gods in bounty work up storms about us, That give mankind occasion to exert Their hidden strength, and throw out into practice Virtues that shun the day, and lie conceal'd In the smooth seasons and the calms of life. Addison's Cato. How sadden are the blows of fate ! what change, What revolution, in the state of glory ! abbess CcBsar in Egypt. I will bear it With all the tender sufferance of a friend, As calmly as the wounded patient bears The artist's hand that ministers his cure. Ot way's Orphan. Deserted at his utmost need, By those his former bounty fed. Dry den's Alexander" 1 8 Feast. To exult Ev'n o'er an enemy oppress'd, and heap Affliction on the afflicted, is the mark, And the mean triumph of a dastard soul. Smollett's Regicide. Affliction is the wholesome soil of virtue : Where patience, honour, sweet humanity, Calm fortitude, take root, and strongly flourish. Mallet and Thomson's Alfred. Who has not known ill fortune, never knew Himself, or his own virtue. Mallet and Thomson's Alfred. Ye good distress'd ! Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile, And what your bounded view, which only saw A little part, deem'd evil, is no more ; The storms of wintry time will quickly pass, And one unbounded spring encircle all. Thomson's Seasons. Affliction is the good man's shining scene ; Prosperity conceals his brightest ray; \s night to stars, woe lustre gives to man. Young's Night Thoughts. We bleed, we tremble, we forget, we smile, The mind turns fool, before the cheek is dry. Young's Night Thoughts. All evils natural are moral goods ; All discipline, indulgence, on the whole. Young's Night Thoughts When a great mind falls, The noble nature of man's gen'rous heart Doth bear him up against the shame of ruin, With gentle censure, using but his faults As modest means to introduce his praise ; For pity, like a dewy twilight, comes To close th' oppressive splendour of his day, And they who but admired him in his height His altered state lament, and love him fall'n. Joanna Baillie's Basil. For as when merchants break, o'erthrown Like ninepins, they strike others down. Butler's Hudibras,. Tho' losses and crosses Be lessons right severe, There 's wit there, ye '11 get there, Ye '11 find nae other where. Burns's Epistle to Davie The brave unfortunate are our best acquaintance ; They show us virtue may be much distress'd, And give us their example how to suffer. Francis's Eugenia. In this wild world the fondest and the best, Are the most tried, most troubled, and distress'd Crabbe. That saddening hour when bad men hotlier press : But these did shelter him beneath their roof, When less barbarians would have cheer'd him less, And fellow countrymen have stood aloof — In aught that tries the heart, how few withstand the proof! Byron's Childe Harold. Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs on the midnight blast, Is that portentous phrase, " I told you so," Utter'd by friends, those prophets of the past, Who, 'stead of saying what you now should do, Own they foresaw that you would fall at last, And solace your slight lapse 'gainst " bonos mores" With a long memorandum of old stories. Byron's Don Juan. I have not quailed to danger's brow When high and happy — need I now? Byron's Giaour. One thought alone he could not — dared not meet. " Oh how these tidings will Medora greet ?" Then — only then — his clanking hands he raised And strain'd with rage the chain on which ho gaz'd. Byron's Corsan The good are better made by ill : — As odours crush'd are sweeter still ! Hog ers's Jacqueline o 14 ADVICE. A dvcrsity's cold frosts will soon be o'er ; It heralds brighter days : — the joyous Spring Is cradled on the Winter's icy breast, And yet comes flushed in beauty. Mrs. Hemans. ADVICE. Let me entreat you, For to unfold the anguish of your heart : Mishaps are master'd by advice discreet, And counsel mitigates the greatest smart. Spenser' 1 s Fairy Queen. Know when to speak ; for many times it brings Danger, to give the best advice to kings. Herrick. Direct not him, whose way himself will choose ; 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose. Shaks. Richard II. Let him be so, For counsel still is folly's deadly foe. Shake. London Prodigal. I pray thee, cease thy counsel. Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve. Shaks. Much ado. Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none ; be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use ; and keep thy friend Under thine own life's key : be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech. Shaks. AlVs well. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel ; but being in, Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee. Shaks. Hamlet. Give every man thine ear but few thy voice : Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judg- ment. Shaks. Hamlet. Neither a borrower nor a lender be : For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. Shaks. Hamlet. Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Shaks. Henry VIII. Thy honourable metal may be wrought Fcum tlrdt it is disposed : therefore 'tis meet Triat noble minds keep ever with their likes : Vnr who. «*o firm, that cannot be seduced ? Shaks. Julius Ccesar. Give thy thoughts no tongue Nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; But do not dull thy palm with entertaiment Of each new hatch'd unfledged comrade. Shaks. HamleU I shall the effect of this good lesson keep As watchman to my heart. Shaks. Hamlet. 'Tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow ; But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel : My griefs cry louder than advertisement. Shaks. Much ado. Men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air, and agony with words. A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; But were we burdened with like weight of pain, As much, or more, we should ourselves complain. Shaks. Much ado. "What could I more ? I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold The danger, and the lurking enemy That lay in wait ; beyond this had been force, And force upon free will hath here no place. Milton , s Paradise Lost. Learn to dissemble wrongs, to smile at injuries, And suffer crimes thou want'st the power U. punish : Be easy, affable, familiar, friendly: Search, and know all mankind's mysterious ways , But trust the secret of thy soul to none : This is the way, This only, to be safe in such a world as this is Roive's Ulysses. Saints, And cool-soul'd hermits, mortify'd with care, And bent by age and palsies, whine ou* maxims, Which their brisk youth lad blushed it. HUVs Henry V Aye free, off ban', your story tell When wi' a bosom crony; But still keep something 1o yoursol Ye scarcely tell to onv. ADIEU - AFFECTION - AGE. 15 Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can Frae critical dissection ; But keek thro' ev'ry other man, Wi' sharpen'd shy inspection. Burns's Epistle to a Young Friend. The worst men often give the best advice. Bailey's Festus. ADIEU. Then comes the parting hour, and what arise When lovers part — expressive looks, and eyes Tender and tearful — many a fond adieu, And many a call the sorrow to renew. Crabbe. We part — But this shall be a token thou hast been A friend to him who pluck'd these lovely flowers, And sent them as a tribute to a friend, And a remembrance of the few kind hours Which lightened on the darkness of my path. Percival. On the door you will not enter, I have gazed too long — adieu ! Hope withdraws her peradventure — Death is near me — and not you. Miss Barrett. (See Farewell.) AFFECTION. What war so cruel, or what siege so sore, As that which strong affections do apply Against the fort of reason, evermore To bring the soul into captivity ! Spenser's Fairy Queen. Affection is the savage beast, Which always us annoyeth : And never lets us live in rest, But still our good destroyeth. Affection's power who can suppress, And master when it sinneth, Of worthy praise deserves no less, Than he that kingdoms winneth. Brandon'* Octavia. Of all the tyrants that the world affords, Our own affections are the fiercest lords. Earl of Sterline's Julius Ccesar. you much partial gods ! T hy gave ye men affections, and not power o govern them ? What I by fate should shun, L most affect Lodovick Barrey. Affections injur'd By tyranny, or rigour of compulsion, Like tempest- threatened trees, unfirmly rooted. Ne'er spring to timely growth. John Ford's Broken Heai O ! there is one affection which no stain Of earth can ever darken ; — when two find, The softer and the manlier, that a chain Of kindred taste has fastened mind to mind , 'T is an attraction from all sense refined ; The good can only know it ; 'tis not blind, As love is unto baseness ; its desire Is but with hands entwined to lift our being higher Percival's Poem* All ! could you look into my heart, And watch your image there ! You would own the sunny loveliness Affection makes it wear. Mrs. Osgood AGE. The careful cold hath nipt my rugged rind, And in my face deep furrows eld hath plight ; My head besprent with hoary frost I find, And by mine eye the crow his claw doth wright . Delight is laid abed, and pleasure past ; No sun now shines, clouds have all overcast. Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar These old fellows have Their ingratitude in them hereditary : Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows; 'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not kind And nature, as it grows again toward earth, Is fashion'd for the journey — dull and heavy. Shaks. Timon. let us have him ; for his silver hairs Will purchase us a good opinkn, And buy men's voices to commend our deeds ; It shall be said, — his judgment rul'd our hands , Our youths, and wildness shall no wit appear, But all be bury'd in his gravity. Shaks. Julius C&sar Youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables and his weeds, Importing health, and graveness. Shaks. Hamlet Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty : For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood. Shaks. As you like U 1 know thee not, old man : fall to thy prayers , How ill white hairs foecome a fool and jester '• Shaks, Henry IV AUE. O, sir, you arc old ; Nature in you stands on the very verge Of her confine ; you should he rul'd and led By some discretion, that discerns your state Better than you yourself. SJiaks. Lear. 1 have liv'd long enough : my way of life Is falPn into the sere, the yellow leaf: And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but in their stead, Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Shahs. Macbeth. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ; With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again towards childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Shales. As you like it. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. Shaks. As you like it. Behold where age's wretched victim lies, See his head trembling, and his half clos'd eyes, Frequent for breath his panting bosom heaves ; To broken sleep his remnant sense he gives, And only by his pains, awaking, finds he lives. Prior's Solomon. These are the effects of doting age, Vain doubts, and idle cares, and over caution. Dryden's Sebastian. Thirst of power and of riches now bear sway, The passion and infirmity of age. Frowde's Philotas. Age sits with decent grace upon his visage, And worthily becomes his silver locks ; He wears the marks of many years well spent, Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise experience. Rowers Jane Shore. Those wise old men, those plodding grave state pedants, Forget the course of youth; their crooked pru- dence, 1 o baseness verging still, forgets to take Into their fine-spun schemes the generous heart, That through the cobweb system bursting, lays Their labours waste. Thomson's lancred and Sigismunda. Of no distemper, of no blast he died, But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long, Even wonder'd at because he dropped no sooner , Fate seem'd to wind him up for fourscore years, Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more, Till, like a clock worn out with eating time, The wheels of weary life at last stood still. Lee's CEdipus Learn to live well, or fairly make your will ; You've play'd, and lov'd, and ate, and drank your fill, Walk sober off before a sprightlier age Comes tittering on, and shoves you from the stage : Leave such to trifle with more grace and ease, Whom folly pleases, and whose follies please. Pope. This heart, by age and grief congeal'd, Is no more sensible of love's endearments, Than are our barren rocks to morn's sweet dew, That calmly trickles down their rugged cheeks. Miller's Mahomet. His mien is lofty, his demeanour great, Nor sprightly folly wantons in his air, Nor dull serenity becalms his eyes, Such had I trusted once as soon as seen, But cautious age suspects the flattering form, And only credits what experience tells. Dr. Johnson's Irene. The still returning tale, and lingering jest, Perplex the fawning niece, and pamper'd guest, While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer, And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear. Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. Though old, he still retained His manly sense, and energy of mind. Virtuous and wise he was, but not severe ; He still remember'd that he once was young . His easy presence check'd no decent joy, Him even the dissolute admir'd ; for he A graceful looseness, when he pleas'd, put or, And laughing could instruct. Armstrong's Art of preserving Health. Fresh hopes are hourly sown In furrow' d brows : To gentle life's descent, We shut our eyes, and think it is a plain : We take fair days in winter, for the spring ; And turn our blessings into bane. Young's Night Thoughts, O my coevals ! remnants of ourselves ! Poor human ruins tottering o'er the grave ! Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees, Strike deeper their vile root, and closer cling AGRICULTURE - ALARM - AMAZEMENT - AMBITION. n Still more enamour'd of this wretched soil ! Shall our pale, wither' d hands be still stretch'd out, Trembling, at once with eagerness and age ? With av'rice, and convulsions, grasping hard ? Grasping at air ; for what has earth beside ? Man wants but little ; nor that little long ; How soon must he resign his very dust, Which frugal nature lent him for an hour ! Young's Night Thoughts. What folly can be ranker ? like our shadows, Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines. Young's Night Thoughts. Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat Defects of judgment, and the will subdue ; Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon. Young's Night Thoughts. Thus aged men, full loth and slow, The vanities of life forego, And count their youthful follies o'er, Till memory lends her light no more. Scotf8 Rolceby. Yet time, who changes all, had alter'd him In soul and aspect as in age : years steal Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb : And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim. Byron 1 * Childe Harold. There age, essaying to recall the past, After long striving for the hues of youth, At the sad labour of the toilet, and Full many a glance at the too faithful mirror, Prankt forth in all the pride of ornament, Forgets itself, and trusting to the falsehood Of the indulgent beams, which show, yet hide, Believed itself forgotten, and was fool'd. Byron's Doge of Venice. Why grieve that time has brought so soon The sober age of manhood on ? As idly should I weep at noon To see the blush of morning gone. Bryant's Poems. True, time will sear and blanch my brow : Well — I shall sit with aged men, And my good glass will tell me how A grisly beard becomes me then. And should no foul dishonour lie Upon my head when I am grey, Love yet may search my fading eye, And smooth the path of my decay. Bryant's Poems. I'm thirty-five, I'm thirty-five! Nor would I make it less, For not a year has pass'd away Unmark'd by happiness. B And who would drop one pleasant link From memory's golden chain ? Or lose a sorrow, losing too The love that soothed the pain Oh ! still may heaven within my soul Keep truth and love alive, — Then angel graces will be mine, Though over thirty-five. Mrs. Hale AGRICULTURE. In ancient times, the sacred plough employ'd The kings, and awful fathers of mankind : And some, with whom compared your insect tribe* Are but the beings of a summer's day, Have held the scale of empire, ruled the storm Of mighty war, then, with unweary'd hand, Disdaining little delicacies, seized The plough, and greatly independent lived. Thomson's Seasons. ALARM. What's the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleeper of the house ? — speak, speak. Shaks. Macbeth AMAZEMENT Why stand you thus amazed ? methinks your eyes Are fixed in meditation ; and all here Seem like so many senseless statues ; As if your souls had suffer'd an eclipse Betwixt your judgments and affections. Swetnam — the Woman Hater AMBITION. O sacred hunger of ambitious mindes, And impotent desire of men to raine ! Whom neither dread of God, that devils bindes. Nor lawes of men, that common w T eales containe, Nor bands of nature, that wilde beastes restraine, Can keep from outrage, and from doing wrong, Where they may hope a kingdome to obtains No faith so firm, no trust can be so strong, No love so lasting then, that may enduren long. Spenser's Fairy Queen. Some thought to raise themselves to high degree By riches and unrighteous reward ; Some by close should'ring ; some by flatteree Others through friends ; others for base regard , And all, by wrong waies, f^ themselves prepared 2* Is AMBITION. Those that wore up themselves, kept others low ; Those that were low themselves, held others hard, Nc suffered them to ryse or greater grow : But every one did strive his fellow down to throw. Spenser's Fairy Queen. N iture, that framed us of four elements, Warring within our breasts for regimen, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds : Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure ev'ry wand'ring planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless spheres, Wills us to wear ourselves, and never rest Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, That perfect bliss and sole felicity, The sweet fruition of a heav'nly crown. Mario's 1st part of Tamerlane the Great. Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, Melts them ; — to ruin his own fortune brings. Shaks. Cromwell. Thriftless ambition ! that will ravin up Thine own life's means. Shaks. Macbeth. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels ; how can man then, The image of his maker, hope to win by't ? Shaks. Henry VIII. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory : But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Shaks. Henry VIII. Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye ; I feel my heart new open'd : O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. Shaks. Henry VIII. 'Tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber upwards turns his face : But wnen he once attains the upmost round, lie tnen unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend. Shaks. Julius Ccesar. Men at some time are masters of their fates : The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Shaks. Julius Ccesa* Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone. Shaks. Julius Ccesar. He hath brought many captives to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : Did this in Csesar seem ambitious ? When that the poor have cried, Csesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. Shaks. Julius Ccesar. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me : Witness, this army, of such mass, and charge, Led by a delicate and tender prince ; Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd, Makes mouths at the invisible event ; Exposing what is mortal, and unsure, To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, Even for an egg-shell. Shaks. Hamlet. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself, And falls on the other side. Shaks. Macbeth That is a step, On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, For in my way it lies. Shaks. Macbeth. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way ; thou would'st be great ; Art not without ambition ; but without The illness should attend it : what thou would'st highly, That would'st thou holily : would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly win. Shaks. Macbeth. Follow I must, I cannot go before, While Gloster bears this base and humble mind. Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling blocks, And smooth my way upon their headless necks. Shaks. Henry VI. Away with scrupulous wit ! now arms must rule, And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns Shaks. Henry VI. Ambition hath but two steps • the lowest, Blood; the highest, envy. Lilly's Midas AMBITION. lb Ambition hath one heel nail'd in hell, Though she stretch her fingers to touch the hea- vens. Lilly's Midas. Ye gods ! what havoc does ambition make Among your works ! Addison's Cato. How dost thou wear, and weary out thy days, Restless ambition, never at an end? Daniel's Philotas. Of all the passions which possess the soul, None so disturbs vain mortals' minds, As vain ambition, which so blinds The light of them, that nothing can control, Nor curb their thoughts who will aspire ; This raging, vehement desire, Of sovereignty no satisfaction finds, But in the breasts of men doth ever roll The restless stone of Sisyph' to torment them, And as his heart, who stole the heav'nly fire, The vulture gnaws, so doth that monster rent them : Had they the world, the world would not content them. Earl of Sterline's Darius. Farewell for ever : so have I discern'd An exhalation that would be a star Fall, when the sun forsook it, in a sink. Chapman's 2d part of Byron's Conspiracy. Man was mark'd A friend, in his creation, to himself, And may, with Jit ambition, conceive The greatest blessings, and the brightest honours Appointed for him, if he can achieve them The right and noble way. Philip Massinger's Guardian. Our natures are like oil ; compound us with any thing Yet still we strive to swim upon the top. Beaumont and Fletcher's Loyal Subject. Be not with honour's gilded baits begun" d, Nor think ambition wise, because 'tis brave ; For though we like it, as a forward child, 'Tis so unsound, her cradle is her grave. Sir W. Davenant's Gondibert. Ambition's monstrous stomach does increase By eating, and it fears to starve, unless It still may feed, and all it sees devour : Ambition is not tir'd with toil nor cloy'd with power. Sir W. Davenanfs Playhouse to let. Vmbition is the mind's immodesty. Sir W. Davenanfs Gondibert. Ambition is a spirit in the world, That causes all the ebbs and flows of nations. Keeps mankind sweet by action : without that, The world would be a filthy settled mud. Crown's Ambitious Statesman. Ambition's eyes Look often higher than their merit's rise. Rowland Wathjns. Ambition is like love, impatient Both of delays and rivals. DenharrCs Sophy. Ambition is a lust that's never qizenched, Grows more enflamed, and madder by enjoyment. Otway's Caius Marius. Ambition, like a torrent, ne'er looks back, It is a swelling, and the last affection A high mind can put off. It is a rebel Both to the soul and reason, and enforces All laws, all conscience ; treads upon religion, And offers violence to nature's self. Ben Jonson's Catiline. Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell. Milton's Paradise Lost. His trust was with th' Eternal to be deem'd Equal in strength, and rather than be less Car'd not to be at all ; with that care lost Went all his fear : of God, or hell, or worse, He reck'd not. Milton's Paradise Lost. Lifted up so high I 'sdain'd subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest Milton's Paradise Lost. Therefore with manlier objects we must try His constancy, with such that have more show Of worth, of honour, glory, and popular praise, Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd. Milton's Paradise Regained, O dire ambition ! what infernal power Unchain'd thee from thy native depth of hell, To stalk the earth with thy destructive train, Murder and lust ! to waste domestic peace And every heartfelt joy. Brown's Barbarossa. O false ambition ! Thou lying phantom ! whither hast thou lured me \ Ev'n to this giddy height ; where now I stand Forsaken, comfortless ; with not a friend In whom my soul can trust. Brown's Barbarosm What 's all the gaudy glitter of a crown ; What but the glaring meteor of ambition, That leads the wretch benighted in his errors, Points to the gulf, and shines upon destruction. Brooke's Gustavus Vasa 20 AMBITION. Oh ! that some villager, whose early toil Li ftp the penurious morsel to his mouth, Had daim'd my birth ! ambition had not the*i Thus step'd 'twixt me and heav'n. Brooke's Gustavus Vasa. Ambition is at a distance A goodly prospect, tempting to the view ; The height delights us, and the mountain top Looks beautiful, because 'tis nigh to heaven: But we ne'er think how sandy 's the foundation ; What storms will batter, and what tempests shake Otwaifs Venice Preserved. Why now my golden dream is cut — Ambition, like an early friend, throws back My curtains with an eager hand, o'erjoyed To tell me what I dreamt is true — a crown, Thou bright reward of ever-daring minds ; Oh ! how thy awful glory fills my soul ! Nor can the means that got thee dim thy lustre ; For, not men's love, fear pays thee adoration, And fame not more survives from good than evil deeds. Tli' aspiring youth, that fir'd th' Ephesian dome, Outlives, in fame, the pious fool that rais'd it. Cibber's Richard HI. Ambition is an idol, on whose wings Great minds are carried only to extreme ; To be sublimely great, or to be nothing. Southern's Loyal Brother. Tamerlane. — The world! — 'twould be too little for thy pride ! Thou wouldst scale heaven — Bajazet. — I would : — away ! my soul Disdains thy conference. Rome's Tamerlane. Great souls, By nature half divine, soar to the stars, And hold a near acquaintance with the gods. Rome's Royal Convert. What is ambition but desire of greatness ? And what is greatness but extent of power ? But lust of power's a dropsy of the mind, Whose thirst increases, while we drink to quench it, 'Till swoln and stretch'd by the repeated draught, We burst and perish. Higgon's Generous Conqueror. Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes, The glorious fault of angels and of gods ; Thence to their images on earth it flows, And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows. Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age, Dull sullen pris'ners m the body's cage ; Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years Useless unsec^. as lamps in sepulchres; Like eastern kings, a lazy state they keep, And, close confin'd to their own palace, sleep. The gods, to curse Pamela with her pray'rs, Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares, The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, And to complete her bliss, — a fool for mate. She glares in balls, front boxes, and the ring, A vain, unquiet, glittering, wretched thing ! — Pride, pomp, and state, but reach her outward part; She sighs, — and is no duchess at her heart. Pope. Oh, sons of earth ! attempt ye still to rise, By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies ? Heaven still w T ith laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. Pope's Essay on Man Unnumber'd suppliants crowd preferment's gate Athirst for wealth, and burning to be great, Delusive fortune hears the incessant call, They mount, they shine, — evaporate and fall. Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. This sov'reign passion, scornful of restraint, Even from the birth affects supreme command, Swells in the breast, and with resistless force, O'erbears each gentler motion of the mind. Dr. Johnson's Irene Alas ! ambition makes my little less : Embitt'ring the possess'd : why wish for more ? Wishing, of all employments, is the worst ; Philosophy's reverse, and health's decay ! Young's Night Thoughts. Thy bosom burns for power ; What station charms thee ? I'll install thee there ; 'Tis thine. And art thou greater than before ? Then thou before wast something less fehan man Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride ? That treach'rous pride betrays thy dignity, That pride defames humanity, and calls The being mean, wmch staffs or strings can raise. Young's Night Thoughts Not kings alone, Each villager has his ambition too; No sultan prouder than his fetter'd slave : Slaves build their little Babylons of straw, Echo the proud Assyrian in their hearts, And cry — " Behold the wonders of my might !" And why ? because immortal as their lord ; And souls immortal must for ever heave At something great ; the glitter or the gold The praise of mortals or the praise of Heaven. Young's Night Thoughts. AMBITION. 21 Fame is the shade of immortality, And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, Contemn'd, — it shrinks to nothing in the grasp. Consult th' ambitious, 'tis ambition's cure : And is this all ? cry'd Caesar at his height, Disgusted Young's Night Thoughts. So strong the zeal t' immortalize himself Beats in the breast of man, that ev'n a few, Few transient years won from the abyss abhorr'd Of blank oblivion seem a glorious prize, And even to a clown. Cowper's Task. Dream after dream ensues, And still they dream that they shall still succeed, And still are disappointed. Cowper's Task. On the summit see, The seals of office glitter in his eyes ; He climbs, — he pants, — he grasps them. At his heels, Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends, And with a dext'rous jerk soon twists him down, And wins them, but to lose them in his turn. Cowper's Task. Is it delusion this ? Or wears the mind of man within itself A conscious feeling of its destination ? What say these suddenly imposed thoughts, Which mark such deepen' d traces in the brain On vivid real persuasion, as do make My nerved foot tread firmer on the earth, And my dilating form tower on its way? Joanna Baillie's Ethwald. I am as one Who doth attempt some lofty mountain '* height, And having gained what to the upcast eye The summit's point appear'd, astonish'd sees Its cloudy top, majestic and enlarged, Towering aloft, as distant as before. Joanna Baillie's Ethwald. It ever is the marked propensity Of restless and aspiring minds to look Into the stretch of dark futurity. Joanna Baillie's Ethwald. To th' expanded and aspiring soul, To be but still the thing it long has been, f s misery, e'en though enthron'd it were Cinder the cope of high imperial state. Joanna Baillie's Ethwald. The cheat, ambition, eager to espouse Dominion, courts it with a lying show, And shines in borrow'd pomp to serve a turn : But the match made, the farce is at an end; And all the hireling equipage of virtues, Faith, honour, justice, gratitude, and friendship, Discharg'd at once. Jeffrey's Edwin You have deeply ventured, But all must do so who would greatly win. Byron's Doge of Venice. Ay, — father ! — I have had those earthly visions And noble aspirations in my youth, To make my own the mind of other men, The enlightener of nations : and to rise I knew not whither — it might be to fall; But fall, even as the mountain cataract, Which having leapt from its more dazzling height, Even in the foaming strength of its abyss, Lies low but mighty still. — But this is past, My thoughts mistook themselves. Byron's Manfred. He who ascends to mountain tops, shall find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds andsnow ; He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below. Though high above, the sun of glory glow, And far beneath, the earth and ocean spread ; Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to those summits led. Byron's Childe Horold. But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell, And there hath been thy bane ; there is a fire And motion in the soul which will not dwell In its own narrow being, but aspire, Beyond the fitting medium of desire ; And but once kindled, quenchless evermore Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire Of aught but rest ; a fever at the core, Fatal to him who bears, — to all who ever bore. This makes the madmen, who have made men mad By their contagion, conquerors and kings, Founders of sects and systems, to whom add Sophists, bards, statesmen, all unquiet things Which stir too strongly the soul's secret springs, And are themselves the fools to those they fool ; Envied, yet not enviable ! what stings Are theirs ! one breast laid open were a school Which would unteach mankind, the lust to shine or rule. Byron's Childe Harola Their breath is agitation, and their life A storm whereon they ride to sink at last, And yet so nurs'd and bigoted to strife, That should their days, surviving perils past, Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast With sorrow and supineness, and so die ; Even as a flame unfed, which runs to wasto 22 AMERICA. With its «r*m flickering or a sword laid by, Which eais iwto itself, and rusts ingloriously. Byron's Childe Harold. These quenched a moment her ambitious thirst — So Arab deserts drink in summer's rain In vain ! — As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash ambitious hands. Byron's Don Juan. Before I knew thee, Mary, Ambition was my angel : I did hear For ever its witched voices in mine ear ; My days were visionary — My nights were like the slumbers of the mad : — And every dream swept o'er me glory clad. Willis' Poems. What is ambition ? 'T is a glorious cheat ! Angels of light walk not so dazzlingly The sapphire walls of Heaven. The flow Of life-time is a graduated scale ; And deeper than the vanities of power, Or the vain pomp of glory, there is writ A standard measuring its worth for heaven. Willis. AMERICA. Poor lost America, high honours missing, Knows nought of smile and nod, and sweet hand- kissing ; Knows nought of golden promises of kings ; Knows nought of coronets, and stars, and strings. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar. Still one great clime, in full and free defiance, Yet rears her crest, unconquer'd and sublime, Above the far Atlantic ! she has taught Her Esau brethren that the haughty flag, The floating fence of Albion's feebler crag, May strike to those whose red right hands have bought Rights cheaply earn'd with blood. Still, still, for ever Better, though each man's life-blood were a river, That it should flow and overflow, than creep Through thousand lazy channels in our veins, Dam'd, like the dull canal, with locks and chains, And moving, as a sick man in his sleep, Three paces and then faltering : — better be Where tne extinguish'd Spartans still are free, In their proud charnel of Thermopylae, Than stagnate in our marsh, — or o'er the deep Fly, and one current to the ocean add, One spirit to the souls our fathers had, One f} eeman more America, to thee ! Byron's Ode. America ! half-brother of the World ! With something good and bad of every land ; Greater than thee have lost their seat — Greater scarce none can stand. Bailey's Festu* Land of the West ! though passing brief The record of thine age, Thou hast a name that darkens all On History's wide page ! Let all the blasts of fame ring out- Thine shall be loudest far : Let others boast their satellites — Thou hast the morning star. Thou hast a name whose characters Of light shall ne'er depart ; 'Tis stamped upon the dullest brain, And warms the coldest heart; A war-cry fit for any land, Where Freedom's to be won; Land of the West ! it stands alone — It is thy Washington. Eliza Cook's Poems Columbia, child of Britain, — noblest child ; I praise the growing lustre of thy youth, And fain would see thy great heart reconciled To love the mother of so blest a birth : For we are one Columbia ! still the same In lineage, language, laws, and ancient fame, The natural nobility of earth. Tuppefs Lyrics* Thou noblest scion of an ancient root, Born of the forest-king ! spread forth, spread forth,— High to the stars thy tender leaflets shoot, Deep dig thy fibres round the ribs of earth ! From sea to sea, from south to icy North, It must ere long be thine, through good or ill, To stretch thy sinewy boughs : Go, — wondrous child! The glories of thy destiny fulfil ; — Remember then thy mother in her age, Shelter her in the tempest, warring wild : Stand thou with us when all the nations rage So furiously together ! — we are one : And, through all time, the calm historic page Shall tell of Britain blest in thee her son. Tapper's Poems. Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world and the child of the skies. Timothy Dwight. Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength ? Or curb his swiftness in the forward race ? Bryant's Poems ANCESTRY. 23 And thou, my Country, thou shalt never fall But with thy children. Bryant's Poems. There is no other land like thee, No dearer shore ; Thou art the shelter of the free, The home, the port of liberty, Thou hast been, and shalt ever be, Till time is o'er. Ere I forget to think upon My land, shall mother curse the son She bore. PercivaVs Poems. Land of the forest and the rock, Of dark blue lake and mighty river, Of mountains reared on high to mock The storm's career and lightning's shock, My own green Land for ever ! Oh ! never may a son of thine, Where'er his wandering feet incline, Forget the sky that bent above His childhood like a dream of love ! Whittier. I see the living tide roll on, It crowns with fiery towers The icy capes of Labrador, The Spaniard's " land of flowers !" It streams beyond the splintered ridge That parts the northern showers, From eastern rock to sunset wave, The Continent is ours. O. W. Holmes. America ! the sound is like a sword To smite th' oppressor ! like a loving word To cheer the suffering people, while they pray That God would hasten on the promised day, When earth shall be like heaven, and men shall stand, Like brothers round an altar, hand in hand. O ! ever thus, America, be strong, Like cataract's thunder pour the Freeman's song, Till struggling Europe joins the grand refrain ; And startled Asia bursts the despot's chain ; And Afric's manumitted sons, from thee To their own Father-land shall bear the song, —Worth all their toils and tears — of Liberty : For these good deeds, America, be strong ! Mrs. Hale. ANCESTRY. Boast not these titles of your ancestors, Brave youths ; they 're their possessions, none of ycrtirs; When your own virtues, equal'd have their names, Twill be but fair to lean upon their fames; For they are strong supporters ; but, till then, The greatest are but growing gentlemen. It is a wretched thing to trust to reeds , Which all men do, that urge not their own deed* Up to their ancestors ; the river's side, By which you're planted, shows your fruit shaii bide; Hang all your rooms with one large pedigree : 'Tis virtue alone is true nobility; Which virtue from your father, ripe, will fall ; Study illustrious him, and you have all. Jonson. I have no urns, no dusty monuments ; No broken images of ancestors, Wanting an ear, or nose ; no forged tables Of long descents, to boast false honours from. Jonson'' s Catiline 'T is poor and not becoming perfect gentry, To build their glories at their fathers' cost ; But at their own expense of blood or virtue, To raise them living monuments ; our birth Is not our own act ; honour upon trust, Our ill deeds forfeit ; and the wealthy sums, Purchas'd by others' fame or sweat, will be Our stain, for we inherit nothing truly But what our actions make us worthy of. Chapman and Shirley's BalL It is, indeed, a blessing, when the virtues Of noble races are hereditary : And do derive themselves from th' imitation Of virtuous ancestors. Nabb's Covent Garden. He that to ancient wreaths can bring no more From his own worth, dies bankrupt on the score. John Cleveland. They that on glorious ancestors enlarge, Produce their debt, instead of their discharge. Young He stands for fame on his forefathers' feet, By heraldry proved valiant or discreet ! Young Whence his name And lineage long, it suits me not to say ; Suffice it that, perchance they were of fame, And had been glorious in another day. Byron's Childe Harold. I am one, Who finds within me a nobility That spurns the idle pratings of the great, And their mean boast of what their fathers weru, While they themselves are fools effeminate, The scorn of all who miow the worth of mind And virtue. Percival u ANGELS -ANGER ANGELS. Thus they in heaven, above the starry sphere, riieir happy hours in joy and hymning spent. Milton'' $ Paradise Lost. Angels, contented with their fame in heaven, Seek not the praise of men. Milton's Paradise Lost Are ye for ever to your skies departed ? Oh ! will ye visit this dim world no more ? Ye whose bright wings a solemn splendour darted Through Eden's fresh and flowery shades of yore ? Mrs. Hemans. White-wing'd angels meet the child On the vestibule of life. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith. Times of joy and times of woe, Each an angel-presence know. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith. ANGER. Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath : Abhorred bloodshed, and tumultuous strife, Unmanly murder, and unthrifty scath, Bitter despite, with rancour's rusty knife, And fretting grief, the enemy of life ; All these, and many evils more, haunt ire. The sweelling spleen, and phrenzy raging rife, The shaking palsy, and saint Francis fire : Such one was wrath, the last of this ungodly tire. Spenser's Fairy Queen. There is not in nature, A thing that makes a man so deform'd, so beastly, As doth intemp'rate anger. Webster's Dutchess of Malfi. Your more manly soul I find Is capable of wrong, and like a flint Throws forth a fire unto the striker's eyes. You bear about you valour's whetstone, anger : Which sets an edge upon the sword, and makes it Cut with a spirit ; you conceive fond patience Is an injustice to ourselves ; the sufF'ring One injury invites a second, that Calls on a third, till wrongs do multiply And reputation bleed. Thomas Randolph's Muse's Looking. Glass. lYly rage is not malicious ; like i spark Of fire by 6teel inforced out of a flint, h is no sooner kindled, but extinct. Gqfft's Careless Shepherdess. Madness and anger differ but in this, This is short madness, that long anger is. Charles Aleyn's Creseey Where there's Power to punish, 't is tyranny to rage ; Anger is no attribute of justice ; 'T is true she 's painted with a sword, but looks As if she held it not ; though war be in Her hand, yet peace dwells in her face. Henry Killegrew's Conspiracy. If I stay, my rage Will hurry me to mischief, better leave her To certain ruin, than betray myself To danger of it. Clapihorne's Hollander, The winds, Imprison'd in the caverns of the earth, Break out in hideous earthquakes ; passions so Increase by opposition of all scorns. Clapihorne's Hollander. Anger Is blood, pour'd and perplex'd into a froth ; But malice is the wisdom of our wrath. Sir W. Davenant's Just Italian. In mighty souls, passions, not soon suppress'd, Like wounded whales, do struggle till they die ; By their impatience they increase the smart, Provoke their pains, and vex a harmless dart ; Tossing the mighty mass till they 're on ground, Their rage more fatal than the little wound. Sir Francis Fane's Sacrifice, At this the knight grew high in wrath, And lifting hands and eyes up both, Three times he smote on stomach stout, From whence at length these words broke out. Butler's Hudibms. Anger is like A full hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. Shaks. Henry VIII Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow. Shaks. Henry VI. Give him no breath, but now Make boot of his distraction : never anger Made good guard for itself. Shaks. Ant. and Cl&k Anger's my meat' I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding. Shaks. Coriolanus. ANGER. 25 Brutus. — Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way, and room to your rash choler ? Shall I be rrighted when a madman stares ? Cassius. — O gods ! ye gods ! must I endure aU this ? Brutus. — All this ! ay more. Fret till your proud heart break; Go show your slave how choleric you are, And make your bondsman tremble. Must I budge ? Must I observe you ? must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour ? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you : for, from this day forth, I '11 use you for my mirth, yea for my laughter, When you are waspish. Shak$. Julius Casar. I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath ; 1 . rage, whose heat hath this condition, That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood, and dearest valued blood, of France. Shahs. King John. that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth ! Then with a passion would I shake the world. Shales. King John. Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now. Shales. Romeo and Juliet. This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord : Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour. Shales. Henry IV. 1 then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, To be so pester' d with a popinjay, Out of my grief and my impatience, Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what Shaks. Henry IV. I am about to weep ; but thinking that We are a queen, or long have dream'd so, certain, The daughter of a king, my drops of tears I turn to sparks of fire. ShaJes. Henry VIII. What sudden anger 's this ? how have I reap'd it ? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leap'd from his eyes ; so looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him, Then makes him nothing. ShaJes. Henry VIII. It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods ; To tell them that this world did equal theirs, Till they had stolen our jewel. ShaJes. Ant. and Cleo. Those hearts that start at once into a blaze, \nd open all their rage, like summer storms M once discharged grow cool again and calm. C. Johnson's Medea. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd ha face, Thrice changed with pale ire, envy, and despair , Which marr'd his borrow'd visage, and betray'd Him counterfeit. Milton's Paradise Lost The elephant is never won with anger ; Nor must that man, who would reclaim a lion, Take him by the teeth. Dryden's All for Love. Hast thou compacted for a lease of years With hell, that thus thou ventur'st to provoke me ? Dryden's Duke of Guise. When anger rushes, unrestrain'd, to action, Like a hot steed, it stumbles in its way : The man of thought strikes deepest, and strikes safest. Savage's Sir Thomas Overbury. My indignation, like th' imprison'd fire, Pent in the troubled breast of glowing iEtna, Burnt deep and silent. Thomson's Coriolanus. 'T is all in vain, this rage that tears thy bosom ; Like a poor bird that flutters in its cage, Thou beat'st thyself to death. Rome's Jane Shore, Senseless, and deform'd, Convulsive anger storms at large ; or pale And silent, settles into full revenge. Tliomson's Seasons. Then flash'd the living lightning from her eyes, And screams of horror rend th' affrighted skies ; Not louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, When husbands, or when lap-dogs, breathe their last; Or when rich china vessels, fallen from high, In glitt'ring dust and painted fragments lie ! Pope's Rape of the Lock. Not youthful kings in battle seized alive, Not scornful virgins who their charms survive, Not ardent lovers robb'd of all their bliss, Not ancient ladies when refused a kiss, Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die, Not Cynthia when her mantua's pinn'd awry, E'er felt such rage. Pope's Rape of the Loch, Curse on the man that calls Rameses friend, And keeps his temper at a tale like this ; When rage and rancour are the proper virtues, And loss of reason is tne mark of men. Young's Busiris For pale and trembling anger rushes in, With faltering speech, and eyes that wildly stare 3 2G ANGLING -ANIMALS. Fierce as tAc tiger, madder than the seas, Desperate, and arm'd with more than human strength. Armstrong'' s Art of Preserving Health. Next anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, In lightnings own'd his secret stings, In one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept with hurried hand the strings. Collins 's Ode to the Passions. Out upon the fool ! go speak thy comforts To spirits tame and abject as thyself: They make me mad. Baillie's Ethwald. His eye-brow dark, and eye of fire, Showed spirit proud, and prompt to ire ; Yet lines of thought upon his cheek Did deep design and counsel speak. ScotVs Marmion. His brow was bent, — his eye was glazed — He raised his arm and fiercely raised : And sternly shook his hand on high, As doubting to return or fly. Byron's Giaour. I search'd, but vainly search'd, to find The workings of a wounded mind; Each feature of that sullen corse Betray' d his rage, but no remorse. Byron's Giaour. And her brow cleared, but not her troubled eye : The wind was down, but still the sea ran high. Byron's Don Juan. She ceased, and turn'd upon her pillow ; pale She lay, her dark eyes flashing through their tears, Like skies that rain and lighten ; as a veil, Waved and o'ershading her wan cheek, appears Her streaming hair, the black curls strive, but fail, To hide the glossy shoulder, which uprears Its snow through all; her soft lips lie apart, And louder than her breathing beats her heart. Byron's Don Juan. Loud complaint, however angrily It shakes its phrase, is little to be feared, And less distrusted. Byron's Doge of Venice. Patience ! — Hence — that word was made For brutes of burthen, not for birds of prey ; Preach it to mortals of a dust like thine, — I am not of thine order Byron's Manfred. The wildest ills that darken life, Are rapture to the bosom's strife; The tempest, in its blackest forn*. Is beauty to the bosom's storm; The ocean, lash'd to fury loud, Its high wave mingling with the cloud, Is peaceful, sweet serenity, To anger's dark and stormy sea. J. W. Eastburne, ANGLING. In genial spring, beneath the quiv'ring shade, Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead, The patient fisher takes his silent stand, Intent, his angle trembling in his hand: With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed, And eyes the dancing cork, and bending reed. Pope's Windsor Forest I in these flowery meads would be ; These crystal streams should solace me ; To whose harmonious, bubbling noise I with my angle would rejoice. Isaac Walton And angle on, and beg to have A quiet passage to a welcome grove. Isaac Walton Oh! lone and lovely haunts are thine, Soft, soft the river flows, Wearing the shadow of thy line, The gloom of alder boughs. Mrs. Hemans ANIMALS. Let cavillers deny That brutes have reason ; sure 'tis something more, 'Tis heaven directs, and stratagems inspires, Beyond the short extent of human thought. Somerville's Chase The heart is hard in nature, and unfit For human fellowship, as being void Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike To love and friendship both, that is not pleased With sight of animals enjoying life, Nor feels their happiness augment his own, Cowpefs Task. And because he loves me so, Better than his kind will do, Often man or woman, — Give I back more love again, Than dogs often take of men, Learning from my human. Mss Barren You each gentle animal In confidence may bind, And make them follow at your call, If you are always kind Mrs. Hals ANTIPATHY - ANTIQUARY - APPAREL. 27 ANTIPATHY. Some men there are, love not a gaping pig ; Some that are mad, if they behold a cat. Masterless passion sways it to the mood, Of what it likes or loathes. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. Sooner the olive shall provoke To am'rous clasps this sturdy oak, And doves in league with eagles be, Ere I will glance a smile on thee. Sooner yon duskish mulberry In her old white shall clothed be, And lizards with fierce asps combine, Ere I will twist my soul with thine. John Hall. May thorns be planted in the marriage bed, And love grow sour'd and blacken into hate ! Bulwer's Lady of Lyons. ANTIQUARY. They say he sits All day in contemplation of a statue With ne'er a nose, and dotes on the decays, With greater love than the self-lov'd Narcissus Did on his beauty : How shall I approach him ? Shakerly Marmyon's Antiquary. I must rev'rence and prefer the precedent Times before these, which consum'd their wits in Experiments ; and 'twas a virtuous Emulation amongst them, that nothing Which should profit posterity, should perish. Shakerly Marmyon's Antiquary. They are the Registers, the chronicles of the age They were made in, and speak the truth of history, Better than a hundred of your printed Communications. Shakerly Marmyon's Antiquary. A copper plate, with almanacs Engrav'd upon't ; with other nacks Of Booker's, Lilly's, Sarah Jimmer's, And blank schemes to discover nimmers ; A moon dial, with Napier's bones, And sev'ral constellation stones. Butler's Hudibras. What toil did honest Curio take, What strict inquiries did he make, To get one medal wanting yet, And perfect all his Roman set! 'Tis found: and, O his happy lot! 'Tis bought, lock'd up, and lies forgot. Prior's Alma He had a routh o' auld nick-nackets, Rusty aim caps, and jinglin jackets; Would held the Loudons three in tackets A towmond gude ; And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets, Afore the flude Burns How his eyes languish ! how his thoughts adore That painted coat, which Joseph never wore ! He shows, on holidays, a sacred pin, That touch'd the ruff that touch'd Queen Bess's chin. Young's Love of Fame. Rare are the buttons of a Roman's breeches, In antiquarian eyes surpassing riches : Rare is each crack'd, black, rotten, earthen dish, That held, of ancient Rome, the flesh and fish. Dr. WolcoVs Peter Pindar. APPAREL. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not expressed in fancy ; rich, not gaudy ; For the apparel oft proclaims the man. Shaks. Hamlet The fashion Wears out more apparel than the man. Shaks. Much ado about nothing. We will unto your father's. Ev'n in these honest, mean habiliments : Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor ; For 't is the mind that makes the body rich : And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honour peereth in the meanest habit. What ! is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful ? Or is the adder better than the eel, Because his painted skin contents the eye ? O no, good Kate ; neither art thou the worse For this poor furniture, and mean array. Shaks. Taming of a Shrew. Thy gown ? why, ay : — come, tailor, let us see 't. mercy, God ! what masking stuff is here ? What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon* What ! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart ? Here 's snip and nip, and cut, and slish, and slasn, Like to a censer in a barber's shop : — Why what, a'devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this 1 Shaks. Taming of a Shrew My dukedom to a beggarly denier, 1 do mistake my person all this while • Upon my life, she finds although I cannot. 28 APPEARANCES. Myself to be a marvellous proper man. I '11 be at charges for a looking-glass ; And entertain a score or two of tailors, To study fashions to adorn my body, Since 1 am crept in favour with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost ^_ Sliaks. Richard III. Sure this gay fresh suit, as seems to me, Hangs like green ivy on a rotten tree. Daniel's Hymen's Triumph. I am the same, without all difF'rence ; when You saw me last, I was as rich, as good ; Have no additions since of name, or blood ; Only because I wore a thread-bare suit, I w r as not worthy of a poor salute. A few good clothes put on with small ado, Purchase your knowledge and your kindred too. Heywood's Royal King. Nor yet too brightly strive to blaze, By stealing all the rainbow rays; Your gaudy, artificial fly Will only take the younger fry. Who has not seen, and seeing mourn'd, And mourning smiled, and smiling scorn' d, In wild ambition flaming down, Some comet from a country town ? See, see her in her motley hues r Funereal blacks and brimstone blues, And lurid green, and bonfire red, At once their varied radiance shed; And skin deep gold, and would be pearls, And oh! those heaps of corkscrew curls, O. W. Holmes. From little matters let us pass to less, And lightly touch the mysteries of dress ; The outward forms the inner man reveal. We guess the pulp before we eat the peel. One single precept might the whole condense — Be sure your tailor is a man of sense ; But add a little care, or decent pride, And always err upon the sober side. Wear seemly gloves ; not black, nor yet too light ; And least of all the pair that once was white. Have a good hat ; the secret of your looks Lies with the beaver in Canadian brooks. Virtue may flourish in an old cravat, But man and nature scorn the shocking hat. Be sny of breastpins ; plain, well-ironed, white, With small pearl buttons, — two of them in sight, — Is always genuine, while your gems may pass, Though real diamonds, for ignoble glass. O. W. Holmes. APPEARANCES. Appearances deceive, And this one maxim is a standing rule, — Men are not what they seem. Havard's Scanderbeg, Why should the sacred character of virtue Shine on a villain's countenance ? Ye powers ! Why fix'd you not a brand on treason's front, That we might know t' avoid perfidious mortals. Dennis's Iphigenia. Thy plain and open nature sees mankind But in appearances, not what they are. Frowde's Philotas, Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not seems, 'T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of fore'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly ; These, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play : But I have that within, which passeth show ; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe. Shaks. Hamlet Mislike me not for my complexion, — The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. You have slander'd nature in my form ; Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, Is yet the cover of a fairer mind Than to be butcher of an innocent child. Shaks. King John. There is a fair behaviour in tiiee, captain ; And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits With this thy fair and outward character. Shaks. Twelfth Night. He has, I know not what, Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate That almost awes me. Dryderfs Marriage a la Mode. That gloomy outside, like a rusty chest, Contains the shining treasure of a soul Resolved and brave. Dryden's Don Sebastian. Appearances to save, his only care ; So things seem right, no matter what they are. ChurchilV Rosciad. APPLAUSE - ARCHITECTURE - ARBOUR - ARGUMENT. !» They form'd a very nymph-like looking crew, Which might have call'd Diana's chorus "Cousin," As far as outward show may correspond ; I won't be bail for anything beyond. Byron's Don Juan. The deepest ice that ever froze Can only o'er the surface close ; The living stream lies quick below, A.nd flows, and cannot cease to flow. Byron. One slanting up his face did wink The salt-rheum to the eyelid's brink, As if to think — or — not to think ! Some trod out stealthily and slow, As if the sun would fall in snow, If they walked to, instead of fro. Miss Barrett. 'Tis not the fairest form that holds The mildest, purest soul within ; 'T is not the richest plant that folds The sweetest breath of fragrance in. Dawes. Within the oyster's shell uncouth The purest pearl may hide : — Trust me you '11 find a heart of truth Within that rough outside. Mrs. Osgood. Alas ! I am but woman, fond and weak, Without even power my proud, pure love to speak ; But oh, by all I fail in, love not me For what I am, but what I wish to be. Mrs. Osgood. Well, one may trail her silken robe, And bind her locks with pearls, And one may wreathe the woodland rose Among her floating curls ; A,nd one may tread the dewy grass, And one the marble floor, Nor half-hid bosom heave the less, Nor broider'd corset more. O. W. Holmes. APPLAUSE. At which the universal host up sent A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond Frighted the reign of chaos and old night. Milton's Paradise Lost. The hollow abyss Heard far and wide, and all the host of hell With deaf 'ning shout return'd them loud acclaim. Milton's Paradise Lost. He said, and as the sound of waters deep, Hoarse murmur echoed to his words applause Through the infinite host Milton's Paradise Lost, No sooner had th' Almighty ceased, but all The multitude of angels, with a shout Loud as from numbers without number, sweet As from blest voices, uttering joy, heaven rung With jubilee, and loud hosannahs fill'd Th' eternal regions. Milfoil's Paradise Lost City, country, all, Is in gay triumph tempest toss'd, I scarce could press along. The trumpet's voice Is lost in loud repeated shouts, that raise Your name to heaven. Thomson's Agamemnon. Then, bursting broad, the boundless shout to heaven, From many a thousand hearts ecstatic sprung. Thomson's Liberty, Then give a general shout, and send scared echo Even to the frighted ears of tyranny. Sir A. Hunt's Julian ARCHITECTURE. Windows and doors in nameless sculpture drest, With order, symmetry, or taste un blest ; Forms like some bedlam statuary's dream, The craz'd creation of misguided whim. Burns' 's Brigs of Ayr ARBOUR. And in the thickest covert of that shade, There was a pleasaunt arbour, not by art, But of the trees' owne inclination made, Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part, With wanton yvie twine entrayl'd athwart, And eglantine and caprifole among, Fashion'd above within their inmost part, That neither Phoebus' beams. could through them throng, Nor Aeolus' sharp blast could worke them any wrong. Spenser's Fairy Queen. The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age, and whisp'ring lovers made ' Goldsmith's Deserted Village. ARGUMENT. Be calm in arguing : For fierceness makes Error a fault, and truth discourtesy. Why should I feel another man's mistakes' More than his sicknesses or poverty ? In love I should ; but anger is not love, Nor wisdom neither ; therefore gently movo 3* J\) ARMS -ARMY. Calmness is great advantage : He that lets Another chafe, may warm him at his fire, Mark all his wand'rings, and enjoy his frets, As cunning fencers suifer heat to tire. Truth dwells not in the clouds : The bow that 's there, Doth often aim at, never hit the sphere. Herbert. If truth be with thy friend, be with them both : Share in the conquest, and confess a troth. Herbert. But all 's not true that supposition saith, Nor have the mightiest arguments most faith. Drayton. For arguments, like children, should be like The subject that begets them. Thomas Decker's Satiromastix. He'd undertake to prove, by force Of argument, a man's no horse. He 'd prove a buzzard is no fowl, And that a lord may be an owl, A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, And rooks committee-men and trustees. Butler's Hudibras. It is in vain (I see) to argue 'gainst the grain, Or, like the stars, incline men to What they 're averse themselves to do ; For when disputes are wearied out, 'Tis interest still resolves the doubt. Butler's Hudibras. A man convinced against his will Is of the same opinion still. Butler's Hudibras. For obstinacy's ne'er so stiff, Ae when 'tis in a wrong belief. Butler's Hudibras. Examples I could cite you more; But be contented with these four; For when one's proofs are aptly chosen, Four are as valid as four dozen. Prior's Alma. In argument Similes are like songs in. love : They much describe; — they nothing prove. Prior's Alma. In a . guing too, the parson owned his skill, For even tho' vanquished, he could argue still. Goldsmith's Deserted Village. But cveilasting dictates crowd his tongue, Perversely grave, or positively wrong. Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. Like doctors thus, when much dispute has past, We find our tenets just the same at last. Pope's Moral Essays. Who shall decide when doctors disagree, And soundest casuists doubt, like you or me. Pope's Moral Essay* ARMS. I'll ride in golden armour like the sun. And in my helm a triple plume shall spring, Spangled with diamonds dancing in the air, To note me emperor of the threefold world. Mario's 1st part of Tamberlane the Great. Assurance now having armed all their hearts, With proof 'gainst fear, not danger ; they prepare To arm themselves completely at all parts, Offensive and defensive ; one might swear, They did such motions to their armour give, That iron breathed, and that steel did live, Aleyn's King Henry VII. In nature it is fear that makes us arm ; And fear by guilt is bred; The guiltless nothing dread, Defence not seeking, nor designing harm. Sir W. DavenanL Who is the happy warrior ? who is he That every man in arms should wish to be ? — It is the generous spirit who hath wrought Among the plans of real life. — 'T is he whose law is reason ; who depends Upon that law as on his best of friends. — Who if he rise to stations of command, Rises by open means. — — Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim. Wordsworth, ARMY. So great an host As with their weight shall make the mountain* quake, Even as when windy exhalations, Fighting for passage, tilt within the earth. Mark From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds , That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch. Fire answers fire ; and through their pa.y flames, Each battle sees the other's umber'd face. ARMY. 3J Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs, I Piercing the night's dull ear ; and from the tents, The armourers, accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. SJiaks. Henry V. We are but warriors for the working day : Our gayness, and our gilt, are all besmirch'd With rainy marching in the painful field. There's not a piece of feather in our host, (Good argument I hope we will not fly,) And time has worn us into slovenry : But by the mass, our hearts are in the trim. Shaks. Henry V. Why do you stay so long, my lords of France ? Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, 111 favour' dly become the morning field : Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, And our air shakes them passing scornfully. Shaks. Henry V. Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, With torch-staves in their hand ; and their poor jades Lob down their heads, drooping the hides and hips ; The gum down-roping from their pale dead eyes ; And in their pale dull mouths the giimnal bit Lies foul with chaw'd grass, still and motionless ; And their executors, the knavish crows, Fly o'er them all impatient for their hour. Shaks. Henry V. Their armours, that mar ch'd hence so silver-bright, Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood ; There stuck no plume in any English crest, That is removed by a staff of France ; Our colours do return in those same hands That did display them when we first march d forth; A braver choice of dauntless spirits, Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er, Did never float upon the swelling tide, To do offence and scath in Christendom. The interruption of their churlish drums Cuts off more circumstance : they are at hand. Shaks. King John. All the unsettled humours of the land, Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens, Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, T9 make a hazard of new fortunes here. Shaks. King John, And like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes. Shaks. King John. Remember whom you are to cope withal ; A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and run-aways. A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants Whom their o'ercloy'd country vomits forth To desperate ventures, and assur'd destruction. Shaks. Richard III Thus far into the bowels of the land Have we march'd on without impediment. Shaks. Richard III. His marches are expedient to this town, His forces strong, his soldiers confident. Shaks. King John. Within a ken our army lies ; Upon mine honour, all too confident To give admittance to a thought of fear. Our battle is more full of names than yours, Our men more perfect in the use of arms, Our armour all as strong, our cause the best ; Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good Shaks. Henry I\ All in a moment through the gloom were seen Ten thousand banners rise into the air With orient colours waving : With them rose A forest huge of spears, and thronging helms Appear'd, and serried shields in thick array Of depth immeasurable. Milton's Paradise Lost Ten thousand ensigns high advanced, Standards and gonfalons 'twixt van and rear Stream in the air, and for distinction serve Of hierarchies, of orders aud degrees ; Or in their glittering tissues bear emblazed Holy memorials, acts of zeal and love Recorded eminent. Milton's Paradise Lost. And though reduc'd to that extreme, They have been forc'd to sing Te Deum ; Yet with religious blasphemy, By flattering heaven with a lie, And for their beating giving thanks, Th' have rais'd recruits, and fill'd their ranks Butler's Hudibra* Yet hark ! what discords now, of every kind. Shouts, laughs, and screams aie revelling in the wind ! The neigh of cavalry ; the tinkling throngs Of laden camels, and their drivers' songs • Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze Of streamers from ten thousand canopies , ft ART- ARTIFICE- ASTONISHMENT. War-music, bursting out from time to time, With gong- and tymbalon's tremendous chime; Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute, The mellow breathings of some horn or flute That far off, broken by the eagle note Of th' Abyssinian trumpet, swell and float ! Moore's Lalla Rookh. The army, like a lion from his den, March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, A human hydra issuing from its fen To breathe destruction on its winding way, Whose heads were heroes, which, cut off in vain, Immediately in others grew again. Byron's Don Juan. They left the ploughshare in the mould, The flocks and herds without a fold ; The sickle in the unshorn grain, The corn half garncr'd on the plain, And mustcr'd in their simple dress, For wrongs to seek a stern redress ; To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe, To perish — or o'ercome the foe. Isaac McLellan. ART In framing artists, art hath thus decreed, To make some good, but others to exceed. Shaks. Pericles. What thing a right line is, the learned know ; But how avails that him, who in the right, Of life and manners doth desire to grow ? What are all these human arts and lights But seas of error ? in whose depths who sound, Of truth find only shadows, and no ground. Then if our arts want power to make us better, What fool will think they can us wiser make. Life is the wisdom, art is but the letter, Or shell, which men oft for the kernel take ; In moods and figures moulding up deceit, To make each science rather hard than great. Lord Brooke. Such is the strength of art, rough things to shape, And of rude commons rich enclosures make. James Howell. For though I must confess an artist can '../ont-ive things better than another man, Vet when the task is done, he finds his pains Sought but to fill his belly with his brains. Is this the guerdon due to liberal arts, T' admire the head and then to starve the parts ? Timely prevention though discreetly used Before the fruits of knowledge were abused When learning has incurr'd a fearful damp Pc save our oil, 'tis good to quench the lamp. Lady Alimony. Tir'd at first sight, with what the muse imparts^ In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts, While from the bounded level of our mind Short views we take, nor see the length behind , But, more advanced, behold with strange surprise New distant scenes of endless science rise. Popt Art became the shadow Of the dear star-light of thy haunting eyes ! They call'd me vain, some mad — I heeded not, But still toil'd on, hoped on, for it was surest, If not to win, to feel more worthy thee. Bulwer's Lady of Lyons Immortal art ! where'er the rounded sky Bends o'er the cradle where thy children lie, Their home is earth, their herald every tongue. O. W. Holmes Art is wondrous long ; Yet to the wise her paths are ever fair, And patience smiles, tho' genius may despair. O. W. Holmes ARTIFICE. Shallow artifice begets suspicion, And like a cobweb veil but thinly shades The face of thy design : alone disguising What should have ne'er been seen; imperfeci mischief! Thou, like the adder, venomous and deaf, Hast stung the traveller ; and, after, hear'st Not his pursuing voice ; e'en when thou think st To hide, the rustling leaves and bended grass Confess and point the path which thou hast crept fate of fools ! officious in contriving ; In executing, puzzled, lame, and lost. Congreve, What 's the bent brow, or neck in bought reclin'd 1 The body's wisdom to conceal the mind. A man of sense can artifice disdain, As men of wealth may venture to go plain; And be this truth eternal ne'er forgot, Solemnity's a cover for a sot. 1 find the fool when I behold tbe screen ; For 'tis tho wise man's interest to be seen. Young's Love of Fame, ASTONISHMENT. Adam, soon as he heard The fatal trespass done by Eve, amaz'd Astonish'd stood and blank, while horror chill Ran through his veins and all his joints relax'd ; From his slack hand the garland wreath'd for Eve^ ATHEIST - AUTHORS. 33 Down dropp'd, and all the faded roses shed : Speechless he stood and pale. Milton's Paradise Lost. With wild surprise, As if to marble struck devoid of sense, A stupid moment motionless she stood. Thomson'' s Seasons. But who can paint the lover, as he stood, Pierced by severe amazement, hating life, Speechless and fix'd in all the death of woe ! So, faint resemblance ! on the marble tomb, The well dissembled mourner stands, For ever silent and for ever sad. Thomson's Seasons. Hear it not, ye stars ! And thou, pale moon ! turn oaler at the sound. Young's Night Thoughts. ATHEIST. When prejudice and strong aversions work, All whose opinions we dislike are atheists. Now 'tis a term of art, a bug-bear word, The villain's engine, and the vulgar's terror. The man who thinks and judges for himself, Unsway'd by aged foUies, reverend errors, Grown holy by traditionary dulness Of school authority, he is an atheist. The man who, hating idle noise, preserves A pure religion seated in his soul, He is a silent dumb dissembling atheist ! SeweWs Sir Walter Raleigh. Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph, Make atheists of mankind. Dryden's Cleomenes. AUTHORS. How many great ones may remember'd be, Which in their days most famously did flourish, Of whom no word we hear, nor sign now see, But as things wip'd out with a sponge do perish, Because they living cared not to cherish No gentle wits, through pride or covetize Which might their names for ever memorize ! Spenser' s Ruins of Time. Let authors write for glory or reward, Truth is well paid, when she is sung and heard. R. Corbet, Bishop of Norwich. He that writes, Or makes a feast, more certainly invites His judges than his friends ; there 's not a guest But will find something wanting, or ill drest. Prologue to Sir R. Howard's Surprisal, C Much thou hast said, which I know when And where thou stol'st from other men ; Whereby 'tis plain thy light and gifts. Are all but plagiary shifts. Butler's Hudibras Some write, confin'd by physic ; some by debt ; Some, for 'tis Sunday ; some, because 't is wet ; Another writes because his father writ, And proves himself a bastard by his wit. Young's Epistle to Mr. Popt Authors are judg'd by strange capricious rules, The great ones are thought mad, the small onea fools ; Yet sure the best are most severely fated, For fbols are only laugh' d at — wits are hated. Blockheads with reason men of sense abhor ; But fool 'gainst fool is barb'rous civil war. Why on all authors then should critics fall ? Since some have writ, and shown no wit at all. Pope. An author ! 'T is a venerable name ! How few deserve it, and what numbers claim ! Unblest with sense above their peers refin'd, Who shall stand up, dictators to mankind ? Nay, who dare shine, if not in virtue's cause ? That sole proprietor of just applause. Young. Authors alone, with more than savage rage, Unnat'ral war with brother authors wage. Pope, None but an author knows an author's cares, Or fancy's fondness for the child she bears. Cowper's Progress of Error. By custom safe, the poet's numbers flow, Free as the light and air some years ago. No statesman e'er will find it worth its pains, To tax our labours, and excise our brains. Burthens like these will earthly blessings bear, No tribute 's laid on castles in the air. ChurchiU Some write a narrative of wars and feats, Of heroes little known, and call the rant An history. Describe the man, of whom His own coevals took but little note, And paint his person, character and views, As they had known him from his mother's womb. Cowper's Task. And novels (witness every month's review) Belie their name, and offer nothing new. Cowper's Retirement One hates an author that 's all author, fellows In foolscap uniforms turn'd up with ink, So very anxious, clever, fine, and jealous, One do n't know what to say to them, or think- ai AUTHORITY -AUTUMN. Unless to puff them with a pair of bellows ; Of coxcombry's worst coxcombs, e'en the pink Arc preferable to these shreds of paper, These unquench'd snuffings of the midnight taper. Byron's Beppo. *T is pleasant sure to see one's name in print ; A book 's a book, although there 's nothing in 't. Byron. But every fool describes in these bright days, His wondrous journey to some foreign court, And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise ; Death to his publisher, to him 't is sport. Byron's Don Juan. He had written praises of a regicide ; He had written praises of all kings whatever ; He had written for republics far and wide, And then against them bitterer than ever. Byron's Vision of Judgment. Our doctors thus with stuff 'd sufficiency Of all omnigenous omnisciency, Began (as who would not begin That had, like him, so much within ?) To let it out in books of all sorts, Folios, quartos, large and small sorts. Moore. Some steal a thought, And clip it round the edge, and challenge him Whose ' twas to swear to it. To serve things thus Is as foul witches to cut up old moons Into new stars. Some never rise above A pretty fault, like faulty dahlias ; And of whose best things it is kindly said, The thought is fair ; but to be perfect, wants A little heightening, like a pretty face With a low forehead. Bailey's Festus. AUTHORITY. A man in authority is but as A candle in the wind, sooner wasted Or blown out than under a bushel. Beaumont and Fletcher's Four Plays in One. Not from grey hairs authority doth flow, Nor from bald heads, nor from a wrinkled brow ; But our past life, when virtuously spent, Must to our age those happy fruits present. Denham. Autnority kept up, old age secures, Whose dignity as long as life endures. Denham. Authority bears off a credent bulk, That no particular scandal once can touch, But it confounds the breather. Shaks. Mea. for Mea. Authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, That skins the voice o' the top. Shaks. Mea. for Mea. Man, proud man, Drcst in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, His glassy essence — like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep ! Shales. Mea. for Mea My soul aches To know, when two authorities are up, Neither supreme, how soon confusion May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take The one by the other. Shaks. Coriolanus. Authority is a disease and cure, Which men can neither want nor will endure. Butler's Hudibras, Authority intoxicates, And makes mere sots of magistrates; The fumes of it invade the brain, And make men giddy, proud, and vain ; By this the fool commands the wise, The noble with the base complies, The sot assumes the rule of wit, And cowards make the base submit. Butler's Hudibras. The monarch mind, the mystery of commanding, The birth-hour gift, the art Napoleon, Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, binding The hearts of millions till they seem as one, Thou hast it. Halleck. AUTUMN Then came the autumne, all in yellow clad, As though he joyed in his plenteous store, Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad That he had banish'd hunger, which to-fore Had by the belly oft him pinched sore ; Upon his head a wreath that was enrold With ears of corne of every sort, he bore, And in his hand a sickle he did holde, To reape the ripened fruit the which the earth had yold. Spenser's Fairy Queen, Whate'er the wanton spring, When she doth diaper the ground with beauties, Toils for ; comes home to autumn ; summer sweat* Either in pasturing her furlongs, reaping The crop of bread, rip'ning the fruit? for food, Autumn's garners house them, autumn's jollities Feed on them : I alone in every land AVARICE. 35 Traffic my useful merchandise ; gold and jewels, Lordly possessions are for my commodities Mortgaged and sold ; I sit chief moderator Between the cheek-parch'd summer, and th' ex- tremes Of winter's tedious frost ; nay, in myself I do contain another teeming spring : Surety of health, prosperity of life Belongs to autumn. Ford and Decker's Sun's Darling. The year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter. Shahs. Winter's Tale. Thrice happy time, Best portion of the various year, in which Nature rejoiceth, smiling on her works, Lovely, to full perfection wrought. Philips's Cider. But see the fading many-colour'd woods, Shade deep'ning over shade, the country round Imbrown ; crowded umbrage, dusk, and dun, Of every hue, from wan declining green To sooty dark. Thomson's Seasons. The pale descending year, yet pleasing still, A gentler mood inspires ; for now the leaf Incessant rustles from the mournful grove ; Oft startling such as, studious, walk below, And slowly circles thro' the waving air. Thomson's Seasons. Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields ; And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race Their sunny robes resign. Even what remain'd Of stronger fruits falls from the naked tree ; And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around The desolated prospect thrills the soul. Thomson's Seasons. Again the year's decline, midst storms and floods The thundering chase, the yellow fading woods, Invite my song ; that fain would boldly tell Of upland coverts, and the echoing dell, By turns resounding loud at eve and morn The swineherd's hallow or the shepherd's horn. Bloomfield's Farmer Boy. Oh, Autumn ! why so soon Depart the hues that make thy forest glad ; Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon, And leave thee wild and sad ! Ah ! 'twere a lot too blest For ever in thy colour'd shades to stray ; *mid the kisses of the soft southwest To rove and dream for aye. Bryant's Poems. Those few pale Autumn flowers! How beautiful they are ! Than all that went before, Than all the Summer store, How lovelier far! Mrs. Soulhey. That loveliness ever in motion, which plays, Like the light upon Autumn's soft, shadowy days, Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flics From the lips to the cheeks, from the check to the eyes ! Moore. Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods. Wordsworth AVARICE. And greedy avarice by him did ride Upon a camell loaden all with gold ; Two iron coffers hang on either side, With precious metall full as they might hold And in his lap an heap of coin he told ; For of his wicked pelf his god he made, And unto hell himself for money sold ; Accursed usury was all his trade, And right and wrong ylike in equall balance waide, His life was nigh unto death's dore yplaste ; And thred-bare cote and cobbled shoes he ware, He scarce good morsell all his life did taste, But both from backe and belly still did spare, To fill his bags, and richesse to compare : Yet child ne kinsman living had he none, To leave them to ; but thorough daily care To get, and nightly feare to lose his owne. He led a wretched life unto himselfe unknowne, Most wretched wight whom nothing might suffice, Whose greedy lust did lack in greatest store, Whose need had end, but no end covetise. Whose wealth was want, whose plenty made him poor, Who had enough, yet wished evermore. Spensei-'s Fairy Queen. And in his lap a masse of coyne he told And turned upside downe, to feede his eye And covetous desire with his huge treasury. Spenser's Fairy Queen. See! The difference 'twixt the covetous and the prodigal The covetous man never has money, And the prodigal will have none shortly ! Johnson's Staple of New* When all sins are old in us, And go upon crutches, covetousness Does but then lie in her cradle. Decker AVARICE. Gross .AurturM sla\es, who force their wretched souls To croucl. to profit ; nay, for trash and wealth, Doat on some crooked or misshapen form, Hugging msc nature's lame deformity, JRogctting creatures ugly as themselves. John Ford's Love Sacrifice. When I was blind, my son, I did miscall My sordid vice of avarice, true thrift. But now forget that lesson, I prithee do, That cos'ning vice, although it seems to keep Our wealth, debars us from possessing it, And makes us more than poor. May's Old Couple. Of age's avarice I cannot see What colour, ground, or reason there should be; Js it not folly, when the way we ride Is short, for a long voyage to provide ? To avarice some title youth may own, To reap in autumn, what a spring had sown ; And with the providence of bees or ants, Prevent with summer's plenty winter's wants. But age scarce sows, till death stands by to reap, And to a stranger's hand, transfers the heap ; Afraid to be so once, she 's always poor, And to avoid a mischief, makes it sure, Such madness, as for fear of death to die, Is to be poor for fear of poverty. Denham. What less than fool is man to prog and plot, And lavish out the cream of all his care, To gain poor seeming goods which, being got, Make firm possession but a thoroughfare ; Or, if they stay, they furrow thoughts the deeper ; And being kept with care, they lose their careful keeper. Quarles. In all the world there is no vice Less prone t' excess than avarice ; It neither cares for food nor clothing : Nature 's content with little, that with nothing. Butler. L'Avare not using half his store, Still grumbles that he has no more; Strikes not the present tun, for fear The vintage should be bad next year, And eats to-day with inward sorrow, And dread of fancy'd want to-morrow. Priori Alma. Rut the base miser starves amidst his store, jhoods on hrs gold, and griping still at more, *sts sadly pining, and believes he's poor. Drydens Wife of Bath. May his soul be plung'd In ever burning floods of liquid gold, And be his avarice the fiend that damns him. Murphy's Alzuma, To cram the rich was prodigal expense, And who would take the poor from Providence ? Like some lone chartreux stands the good old hall, Silence without and fasts within the wall ; No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor sound, No noon-tide bell invites the country round : Tenants with sighs the smokeless towers survey, And turn th' unwilling steeds another way ; Benighted wanderers, the forest o'er, Curs'd the sav'd candle, and unopening door; While the gaunt mastiff growling at the gate, Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat. Pope's Moral Essays 'Tis strange the miser should his cares employ To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy ; Is it less strange the prodigal should waste His wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste ? Pope's Moral Essays. Riches, like insects, when conceal'd they lie, Wait but for wings, and in their season fly ; Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store Sees but a backward steward for the poor ; This year a reservoir, to keep and spare ; The next a fountain, spouting through his heir, In lavish streams to quench a country's thirst, And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst. Pope's Moral Essays. Wealth in the gross is death, but life diffus'd ; As poison heals, in just proportions us'd ; In heaps, like ambergris, a sink it lies, And well dispers'd, is incense to the skies. Pope's Moral Essays " I give and I devise," (Old Euclio said, And sigh'd,) " my lands and tenements to Ned." Your money, sir ? — " My money, sir, what, all ? Why, if I must" (then wept), " I give it Paul." The manor, sir ? — " The manor ! hold," he cried, "Not that — I cannot part with that," and died. Pope's Moral Essays. The lust of gold succeeds the lust of conquest : The lust of gold, unfeeling and remorseless ! The last corruption of degenerate man. Dr. Johnson's Irene. Some, o'er-enamour'd of their bags, run mad, Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread. Young's Night Thoughts. O cursed love of gold ; when for thy sake The fool throws up his interest in both worlds, First starv'd in this, then damn'd in that to come. Blair's Grave. AWKWARDNESS - BANISHMENT. 37 Who, lord of millions, trembles for his store, And fears to give a farthing to the poor ; Proclaims that penury will be his fate, And, scowling, looks on charity with hate. Dr. Wolcot's Peter Pindar. The love of gold, that meanest rage, And latest folly of man's sinking age, Which, rarely venturing in the van of life, While nobler passions wage their heated strife, Comes skulking last with selfishness and fear, And dies collecting lumber in the rear I Moore. The credulous hope of mutual minds is o'er, The copious use of claret is forbid too, So for a good old-gentlemanly vice, I think I must take up with avarice. Byron's Don Juan. Oh gold ! — why call we misers miserable ? Theirs is the pleasure that can never pall ; Theirs is the best bower-anchor, the chain cable, Which holds fast other pleasures great and small; Ye who but see the saving man at table, And scorn his temperate board, as none at all, And wonder how the wealthy can be sparing, Know not what visions spring from each cheese- paring. Byron's Don Juan. Why call the miser miserable ? As I said before, the frugal life is his, Which in a saint or cynic ever was The theme of praise : a hermit would not miss Canonization for the self-same cause, And wherefore blame gaunt wealth's austerities ? Because, you '11 say, naught calls for such a trial ; — Then there 's more merit in his self-denial. Byron's Don Juan. But whether all, or each, or none of these, May be the hoarder's principle of action, The fool will call such mania a disease : — What is his oicn ? Go look at each transaction, Wars, revels, loves — do these bring men more ease Than the mere plodding through each vulgar fraction ; Or do they benefit mankind ? Lean miser ! Let spendthrifts' heirs inquire of yours, who's wiser? Byron's Don Juan. Why Mammon sits before a million hearths Where God is bolted out from every house. Bailley'8 Festus. The churl who holds it heresy to think, Who loves no music but the dollar's clink, Who laughs to scorn the wisdom of the schools, And deems the first of poets first of fools, Who never found what good from science grew, Save the grand truth, that one and one make two,— 'Tis he, across whose brain scarce dares to creep Aught but thrift's parent pair — to get, to keep ! Charles Sprague. AWKWARDNESS. What's a fine person, or a beauteous face, Unless deportment gives them decent grace ? Bless'd with all other requisites to please, Some want the striking elegance of ease, The curious eye their awkward movement tires, They seem like puppets led about by wires. ChurchiU's Rosciad, Awkward, embarrass'd, stiff, without the skill Of moving gracefully, or standing still, One leg, as if suspicious of his brother, Desirous seems to run away from t' other. Churchill's Rosciad. Not all the pumice of the polish'd town Can smooth the rouglmess of the barnyard clown ; Rich, honour'd, titled, he betrays his race By this one mark — he's awkward in his face. O. W. Holmes BANISHMENT. We banish you our territories : You, cousin Hereford, on pain of death, Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields, Shall not regreet our fair dominions, But tread the stranger paths of banishment Sheika. Richard II All places that the eye of heaven visits, Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus : There is no virtue like necessity. Shaks. Richard II. Go say, I sent thee forth to purchase honour ; And not the king exiled thee. Or suppose Devouring pestilence hangs in our air, And thou art flying to a fresher clime. Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To He that way thou goest, not whence thou comest Shaks. Richard II Flies may do this, when I from this must fly ; They are free men, but I am banished. Shaks. Romeo and Julut I' ve stoopt my neck under your injuries, And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouaa, Eating the bitter bread of banishment ; While you have fed upon my signories ; 38 BARGAIN -BATTLE. Dispa rk'd my parks, and fell'd my forest woods ; From mine own windows torn my household-coat, IvazM out my impress; leaving me no sign, Save men's opinions, and my living blood, To show the world I am a gentleman. Shaks. Richard II. Banished ? friar, the damned use that word in hell ; Howlings attend it : how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin absolver, and my friend profest, To mangle me with that word — banishment? Shaks. Romeo and Juliet. Banish me? Banish your dotage : banish usury, That makes the senate ugly. Shaks. Timon, BARGAIN. I'll give thrice so much land, To any well deserving friend; But in the way of bargain, mark me, I '11 cavil on the ninth part of a hair. Shaks. Henry IV. The age of bargaining, said Burke, Has come : to-day the turban'd Turk Is England's friend and fast ally. Halleck's Poems. Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt, The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt, The Douglas in red herrings ; And noble name and cultur'd land, Palace, and park, and vassal band, Are powerless to the notes of hand Of Rothschild or the Barings. Halleck's Alnwich Castle. BATTLE. Therewith they gan, both furious and fell, To thunder blowes, and fiercely to assaile Each other, bent his enemy to quell, That with their force they perst both plate and maile, And made wide furrows in their fleshes fraile, That it would pity any living eie. Large floods of blood adowne their sides did raile, Hut floods of blood could not them satisfie : Both hongred after death ; both chose to win or die. Spenser's Fairy Queen. Then to the rest his wrathful hand he bends, Of whom he makes such havocke and such hew, That swarms of damned soules to hell he sends ; The rest, that scape his sword and death eschew Fly like a flocke of doves before a falcon's view Spenser's Fairy Queen. All sodainly enflam'd with furious fit, Like a fell lionesse, at him she flew, And on his head-piece him so fiercely smit, That to the ground him quite she overthrew, Dismay'd so with the stroke that he no colours knew. Spenser's Fairy Queen, The eager armies meet to try their cause, Our English lords in four battalias Bring on their forces, but so furious grows In little time the fight, so near the blows, That soon no order we perceive at all, For, like one body, closely move they all. May's Edward III. In single opposition, hand to hand, He did confound the best part of an hour In changing hardiment with great Glendower : Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink, Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood. Shaks. Henry IV. Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground : Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth : And victory, with little loss, doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French. Shaks. King John If we are mark'd to die, we are enough To do our country loss ; and if to live, The fewer men the greater share of honour. Shaks. Henry V. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom ; Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; Our ancient word of courage, fair saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons I Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms. Shake. Richard III. The cannons have their bowels full of wrath ; And ready mounted are they to spit forth Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls. Shaks. King John. My sons — God knows what hath bechanced them : But this I know — they have demean'd themselves Like men born to renown, by life, or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me ; And thrice cried — Courage, father, fight it out! And full as oft came Edward on my side, With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt, In blood of those that had encounter'd him. Shaks. Henry VI BATTLE. 39 Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop, As doth a lion in a herd of neat : Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs ; "Who having- pinch'd a few, and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. Shaks. Henry VI. And now their mightiest quell 1 d, the battle swerv'd, "With many an inroad gor'd ; deformed rout Enter'd and foul disorder ; all the ground With shiver'd armour strown, and on a heap Chariot and charioteer lay overturn'd, And fiery foaming steeds. Milton's Paradise Lost. 'Twixt host and host but narrow space was left, A dreadful interval, and front to front Presented stood in terrible array Of hideous length ; before the cloudy van On the rough edge of battle ere it join'd, Satan, -with vast and haughty strides advane'd, Came tow'ring, arm'd in adamant and gold. Milton's Paradise Lost. The shout Of battle now began, and rushing sound Of onset ended soon each milder thought. Milton's Paradise Lost. Now night her course began, and over heaven Inducing darkness, grateful truce, impos'd Her silence on the odious din of war : Under her cloudy covert hath retir'd, Victor and vanquish' d. Milton's Paradise Lost Each at the head LevefTd his deadly aim ; their fatal hands No second stroke intended. Milton's Paradise Lost. When one, that bare a link, O' th' sudden clapp'd his flaming cudgel, Like linstock, to the horse's touch-hole ; And straight another with his flambeau, Gave Ralpho o'er the eyes a damn'd blow. Butler's Hudibras. 'Tis not the least disparagement To be defeated by th' event, Nor to be beaten by main force, That does not make a man the worse; But to turn tail, and run away, And without blows give up the day, Or to surrender ere th' assault, That's no man's fortune, but his fault. Butler's Hudibras. Full oft the rivals met, and neither spar'd His utmost force, and each forgot to ward. The head of this was to the saddle bent, The other backward to the crupper sent. Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. Hark — the death-denouncing trumpet sounds The fatal charge, and shouts proclaim the onset- Destruction rushes dreadful to the field, And bathes itself in blood : havoc let loose Now undistinguish'd, rages all around ; While ruin, seated on her dreary throne, Sees the plain strewed with subjects truly hers, Breathless and cold. Hazard's Scanderbeg. Even like an arrow on the wind he rode His winged courser, and with noble daring Swept with his chivalrous escort past our front, Even at the stormy edge of chafing battle. Sir A. Hunt's Julian. Here might you see Barons and peasants on th' embattled field, Slain or half dead, in one huge ghastly heap, Promiscuously amass'd. With dismal groans, And ejaculation, in the pangs of death, Some call for aid, neglected ; some o'erturn'd In the fierce shock, lie gasping, and expire, Trampled by fiery coursers : Horror thus, And wild uproar, and desolation, reign'd Unrespited. Philips's Cider- When Greeks join'd Greeks, then was the tug of war ; The labour'd battle sweat, and conquest bled. Lee's Alexander, Behold in awful march and dread array, The long extended squadrons shape their way ! Death, in approaching, terrible, imparts An anxious horror to the bravest hearts ; Yet do their beating breasts demand the strife, And thirst of glory quells the love of life. Addison's Campaign A thousand glorious actions that might claim Triumphant laurels, and immortal fame, Confus'd in clouds of glorious actions lie. And troops of heroes undistinguish'd die. Addison's Campaign, It was a goodly sight To see the embattled pomp, as with the step Of stateliness the barbed steeds came on, To see the pennons rolling their long waves Before the gale, and banners, broad and bright, Tossing their blazonry. Southcy Then more fierce The conflict grew; the dm of arms — the yell Of savage rage — the shriek of agony — The groan of death, commingled in one sound Of undistino-uish'd horrors ; while the sun, i& BATTLE. Retiring slow beneath the plain's far verge, Shed o'er the quiet hills his fading light. Southey's Madoc. Yet more ! yet more ! how fair arrayed They file from out the hawthorn shade, And sweep so gallant by ! With all their banners bravely spread, And all their armour flashing high, Saint George might waken from the dead, To see fair England's standard fly. Scott's Marmion- 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 u Victory !" — " Charge, Chester, charge ! — On, Stanley, on !" Were the last words of Marmion. Scott's Marmion. His hand still strained the broken brand ; His arms were smeared with blood and sand. Scott's Marmion. All in the castle were at rest; When sudden on the windows shone A lightning flash, just seen and gone I A shot is heard — again the flame Flashed thick and fast — a volley came! Then echoed wildly, from within, Of shout and scream the mingled din, And weapon clash, and maddening cry, Of those who kill and those who die ! As filled the hall with sulphurous smoke, More red, more dark, the death-flash broke, And forms were on the lattice cast, That struck, or struggled, as they past. Scott's Rokeby. And O ! amid that waste of life, What various motives fired the strife ! The aspiring noble bled for fame, The patriot for his country's claim, This knight his youthful strength to prove, And that to win his lady's love. Scott't Lord of the Isles. Impetuous, active, fierce, and young, Upon the advancing foes he sprung. Woe to the wretch at whom is bent His brandish'd faulchion's sheer descent. Scott's Rokeby. His back against a rock he bore, And firmly placed his foot before : — ■ Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I." Scott's Lady of the Lake. Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain, As what they ne'er might see again ; Then, foot, and point, and eye opposed, In dubious strife they darkly closed. Scott's Lady of the Lake. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave ! And charge with all thy chivalry ! Few, few, shall part where many meet! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. Campbell's Hohenlinden. Our bugles sang truce — for the night-cloud had lower'd, And the centinel stars set their watch in the s> j ; And thousands had sunk on the ground over- power'd, The weary to sleep and the wounded to die. Campbell's Soldier's Dream. Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set, And risen again, and found them grappling yet ; While steams of carnage, in his noon-tide blaze, Smoke up to heav'n. Moore's Lalla Rookh. Did ye not hear it ? — No : 't was but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure mee 1 To chase the glowing hours with flying feet. — But hark! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm! arm! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar ! Byron's Childe Harold. By heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see (For one who hath no friend, no brother there"* Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery, Their various arms that glitter in the air ! What gallant war-hounds rouse them from their lair, And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the prey ! All join the chase, but few the triumph share ; The grave shall bear the chiefest prize away, And havoc scarce for joy can number their array. Byron's Childe Harold. Hark to the trump, and the drum, And the mournful sound of the barbarous horn, And the flap of the banners, that flit t,s they're borne, And the neigh of the steed, and the multitude''* hum, And the clash, and the shout " they come, they come !" Byron's Siege of Corinth. BATTLE. 41 Hand to hand and foot to foot : Nothing there, save death, was mute ; Stroke and thrust, and flash and cry For quarter or for victory Mingle there with the volleying thunder. Byron's Siege of Corinth. " One effort — one — to break the circling host!" They form — unite — charge — waver — all is lost ! Within a narrow ring compressed, beset, Hopeless, not heartless, strive and struggle yet, — Ah ! now they fight in firmest file no more, Hemmed in — cut off — cleft down — and tram- pled o'er, But each strikes singly, silently, and home, And sinks outwearied rather than o'ercome, His last faint quittance rendering with his breath, Till the blade glimmers in the grasp of death. Byron's Corsair. No dread of death — if with us die our foes — Save that it seems even duller than repose : Come when it will — we snatch the life of life — When lost — what recks it — by disease or strife. Byron's Corsair. And one enormous shout of "Allah !" rose In the same moment, loud as even the roar Of war's most mortal engines, to their foes Hurling defiance : city, stream, and shore Resounded " Allah !" — and the clouds which close With thick'ning canopy the conflict o'er, Vibrate to the eternal name. Hark ! through All sounds it pierceth, " Allah ! Allah ! Hu !" Byron's Don Juan. Here pause we for the present — as even then That awful pause, dividing life from death, Struck for an instant on the hearts of men, Thousands of whom were drawing their last breath ! A moment, and all will be life again ! The march!- -the charge! — the shouts of either faith ! Hurra! and Allah! and — one moment more — The death-cry drowning in the battle's roar. Byron's Don Juan. With cheek unchanging from its sallow gloom, However near his own or other's tomb ; With hand whose almost careless coolness spoke, Its grasp well-used to deal the sabre stroke ; With eye, though calm, determined not to spare, Did Lara too his willing weapon bare. Byron's Lara. Though far and near the bullets hiss, t 've scap'd a bloodier hour than this. Byron's Giaout The fight was o'er, the flashing through the gloom. Which robes the cannon as he wings a tomb, Had ceased ; and sulphury vapours upward drivei Had left the earth, and but polluted heaven. Byron'* Island — Ay, now the soul of battle is abroad, It burns upon the air ! — The joyous winds Are tossing warrior plumes, the proud white foam Of battle's roaring billows ! Mrs. Hemans If to plunge In the mid-waves of combat, as they bear Chargers and spearmen onwards ; and to make A reckless bosom's front the buoyant mark, On that wild current, for ten thousand sorrows ; If thus to dare were valour's noblest aim, Lightly might fame be won ! Mrs. Hemans He battles heart and arm, his own blue sky Above him, and his own green land around. Halleck's Poems. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of life, Be not like dumb driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife ! Longfellow Then said the mother to her son, And pointed to his shield — "Come with it, when the battle's done, Or on it, from the field." R. Montgomery, Our fathers live, they guard in glory still The grass-grown bastions of the fortress'd hill Still ring the echoes of the trampled gorge To God and Freedom ! England and St. George The royal cipher on the captured gun Mocks the sharp night-dews and the blistering sun ! O. W. Holmes. Point to the summits where the brave had bled, Where every village claims its glorious dead ; Say, where their bosoms met the bayonet's shocn, Their only corslet was the rustic frock ; Say, when they mustered to the gathering horn, The titled chieftain curled his lip in scorn ; Yet, when their leader bade his lines advance, No musket wavered in the lion's glance ; Say, when they fainted in their forced retreat, They tracked the snow-drifts with their bleeding feet; Yet still their banners, tossing in the blast, Bore Ever Ready, faithful to the last, Through storm and battle, till they waved again On Yorktown's hills and Saratoga's plain. O. W. Hdmei 42 BEARD -BEAUTY. BEARD. His beard is directly brick colour, And i>erfbct]y fashion'd like the husk Of a chesnut ; he kisses with the driest lip ! Marston's What you will. It has no bush below ; Marry a little wool, as much as an unripe Peach doth wear : Just enough to speak him drawing- towards a man. Suckling's Goblins. His tawny beard was th' equal grace Both of his wisdom and his face ; In cut and dye so like a tile, A sudden view it would beguile ; The upper part thereof was whey; The nether, orange mix'd with grey. Butler's Hudibras. BEAUTY. Nought under heaven so strongly doth allure The sense of man, and all his mind possess, As beauty's lovely bait, that doth procure Great warriors oft their rigour to repress ; And mighty hands forget their manliness, Drawn with the power of an heart-robbing eye, And wrapt in fetters of a golden tress, That can with melting pleasaunce mollify Their harden'd hearts, enur'd to blood and cruelty. Spenser's Fairy Queen. For sure of all that in this mortal frame Contained is, nought more divine doth seem, Or that resembleth more th' immortal flame Of heavenly light, than beauty's glorious beam. What wonder then if with such rage extreme Frail men, whose eyes seek heavenly things to see, At sight thereof so much enravish'd be ? Spenser. For beauty is the bait which, with delight, Do tli man allure, for to enlarge his kind ; Beauty, the burning lamp of heaven's light, Darting her beams into each feeble mind, Against whose power nor god nor man can find Defence, reward the daunger of the wound ; But, being hurt, seek to be medicin'd Of her that first did stir that mortal stownd. Spenser. Ye tradeful merchants ! that with weary toil Do seek most precious things to make your gaine, And both the Indies of their treasures spoil ; What nuedeth you to seek so far in vain ? For lo ! my love doth in herself contain .^11 this world's riches that may far be found; If saphyrs, lo! her eyes be saphyrs plain; If rubies, lo ! her lips be rubies sound ; If pearls, her teeth be pearls, both pure and round , If ivory, her forehead ivory ween ; If gold, her locks arc finest gold on ground If silver, her fair hands are silver sheen : But that which fairest is, but few behold, Her mind, adorn'd with vertues manifold. Spenser Her looks were like beams of the morning sun, Forth-looking through the windows of the east, When first the fleecie cattle have begun Upon the pearled grass to make their feast. Spenser The fairness of her face no tongue can tell, For she the daughters of all wemen's race, And angels eke, in beautie doth excel!, Sparkled on her from God's own glorious face, And more increast by her own goodly grace, That it doth far exceed all human thought, Ne can on earth compared be to aught. Spenser's Hymne of Heavenly Beautie For she was full of amiable grace, And manly terror mixed therewith all ; That as the one stirr'd up affections base, So th' other did men's rash desires appall, And hold them backe, that would in error fall : As he that hath espied a virmill rose, To which sharpe thornes and breeres the way forstall, Dare not for dread his hardy hand expose, But wishing it farr off his ydle wish doth lose. Spenser's Fairy Queen Her sacred beauty hath enchanted heav'n, And, had she liv'd before the siege of Troy, Helen, whose beauty summon'd Greece to arms, And drew a thousand ships to Tenedos, Had not been nam'd in Homer's Iliad ; Her name had been in every fine he wrote. Mario's Tamberlane the Great. Beauty 's a slipp'ry good, which decreaseth Whilst it is increasing : resembling the Medlar, which, in the moment of his full Ripeness, is known to be in a rottenness. Whilst you look in the glass, it waxeth old With time ; if on the sun, parched with heat ; if On the wind, blasted with cold. A great care To keep it, a short space to enjoy it, A sudden time to lose it. Lilly's Sappho Why did the gods give thee a heavenly form, And earthly thoughts to make thee proud of it? Why do I ask ? 'T is now the known disease That beauty hath, to bear too deep a sense Of her own self-conceived excellence. Jonson's Cynthia's Revel*. BEAUTY. 4.T So fair, that had you beauty's picture took, It must like her, or not like beauty look. Aleyn's Henry VII. What greater torment ever could have been, Than to enforce the fair to live retir'd ? For what is beauty if it be not seen ? Or what is 't to be seen — if not admir'd ? And though admir'd, unless in love desir'd ? Never were cheeks of roses, locks of amber, Ordain'd to live imprison'd in a chamber. Nature created beauty for the view, (Like as the fire for heat, the sun for light :) The fair do hold this privilege as due, By ancient charter, to live most in sight, And she that is debarr'd it, hath not right. In vain our friends from this do us dehort, For beauty will be where is most resort. Daniel's Rosamund. Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew, Whose short refresh upon the tender green, Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show ; And straight is gone, as it had never been. Daniel. Nature was here so lavish of her store, That she bestow'd until she had no more ; Whose treasure being weaken'd by this dame, She thrusts into the world so many lame. Brown's Pastorals. Beauty, my lord, 'tis the worst part of woman, A weak poor thing, assaulted ev'ry hour By creeping minutes of defacing time ; A superficies, which each breath of care Blasts off; and ev'ry hum'rous stream of grief, Which flows from forth these fountains of our eyes, Washeth away, as rain doth winter's snow. Goffe's Courageous Turk. I long not for the cherries on the tree, So much as those which on a lip I see. And more affection bear I to the rose, That in a cheek, than in a garden grows. Randolph. There's no miniature In her face, but is a copious theme, Which would, discours'd at large of, make a volume. What clear arch'd brows ! what sparkling eyes ! the lilies Contending with the roses in her cheeks, Who shall most set them off. What ruby lips ! Or unto what can I compare her neck, But to a rock of crystal ? Every limb Proportion'd to love's wish, and in their neatness Add lustre to the richness of her habit, Not borrow'd from it. Massinger. No autumn, nor no age ever approach This heavenly piece, which nature having wrought She lost her needle, and did then despair Ever to work so lively and so fair. Massinger and Field's Fatal Down* Do not idolatrize ; beauty 's a flow'r, Which springs and withers almost in an hour. William Smith's Hector of Germany We can distinguish Of beauty there, and wonder without spectacles, Write volumes of your praise, and tell the world How envious diamonds, 'cause they could not Reach to the lustre of your eyes, dissolv'd To angry tears ; the roses droop, and gath'ring Their leaves together, seem to chide their blushes That they must yield your cheek the victory : The lilies when they 're censur'd for comparing With your more clear and native purity, Want white to do their penance in. Shirley' 8 Royal Master. Heav'n meant that beauty, nature's greatest force, Having exceeding pow'r, should have remorse ; Valour, and it, the world should so enjoy, As both might overcome, but not destroy. Lord Orrery's Henry V. My beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise : Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues. Sliaks. Love's Labour Lost. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright ! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear : Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! Shaks. Romeo and Juliet. Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety : other women cloy The appetites they feed ; but she makes hungry. Where most she satisfies. Shaks. Antony and Cleopatia, Beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. Shaks. Much Ado, 'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. Shaks. Twelfth Night Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good, A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly, A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud, A brittle glass that 's broken presently : A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead with an hour. Shakspear* 44 BEAUTY. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace Robes loosely flowing, hair as free ! Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; That strike mine eyes but not my heart. Ben Johnson. Beauty is nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be current, and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, Unsavoury in th' enjoyment of itself: If you let slip time, like a neglected rose, It withers on the stalk with languish'd head. Milton's Camus. Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree, Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye, To save her blossoms and defend her fruit From the rash hand of bold incontinence. Milton's Comus. With goddess-like demeanour forth she went, Not unattended, for on her as queen A pomp of winning graces waited still, And from about her shot darts of desire Into all eyes to wish her still in sight. Milton's Paradise Lost. Grace was in all her steps, heav'n in her eye, In ev'ry gesture dignity and love. Milton's Paradise Lost. When I approach Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say, Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best, All higher knowledge in her presence falls Degraded, wisdom in discourse with her Loses discount'nane'd, and like folly shows. Milton's Paradise Lost. Her heav'nly form Angelic, but more soft and feminine, Her graceful innocence, her every air Of gesture or least action overaw'd His malice, and with rapine sweet bereav'd His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought Milton's Paradise Lost. She seizes hearts, not waiting for consent, Like sudden death, that snatches, unprepared; Like fire from heaven, scarce seen so soon as felt Lansdown's Heroic Love. ■J fatal beauty ! why art thou bestow'd ihi hapless woman still to make her wretched ! itetray'd by thee, how many are undone ! Patterson's Arminius. Beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive ; cease to admire, and all her plumer Fall flat and shrink into a trivial toy, At every sudden slighting quite abash'd. Milton's Paradise Regained What is beauty ? Not the show Of shapely limbs and features. No : These are but flowers That have their dated hours, To breathe their momentary sweets, then go. 'Tis the stainless soul within That outshines the fairest skin. Sir A. Hunt Oh ! she has beauty might ensnare A conqueror's soul, and make him tear his crown At random, to be scuffled for by slaves. Otway's Orphan Mark her majestic fabric ! she 's a temple Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine ; Her soul 's the deity that lodges there ; Nor is the pile unworthy of the god. Dryderi's Don Sebastian, The holy priests gaze on her when she smiles, And with heav'd hands, forgetting gravity, They bless her wanton eyes. Ev'n I, who hate her, With a malignant joy behold such beauty, And, while I curse, desire it. Dryden's All for Love. At her feet were laid The sceptres of the earth, exposed on heaps, To choose where she would reign. Dryderi's All for Love. Her eyes, her lips, her cheeks, her shapes, her features, Seem to be drawn by love's own hand ; by love Himself in love. Dryderi's Love Triumphant. One who would change the worship of all climates, And make a new religion where'er she comes, Unite the differing faiths of all the world, To idolize her face. Dryderi's Love Triumphant. A native grace Sat fair proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire, Beyond the pomp of dress : for loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most Thomson's Season*. Her form was fresher than the morning rose When the dew wets its leaves ; unstain'd, and pure, As is the lily, or the mountain snow. Thomson's Season* BEAUTY. 4.) 'T is not a set of features, or complexion, The tincture of a skin, that I admire ; Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. Addison's Cato. Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide ; If to her share some female errors fall, \ Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all. ) Pope's Rape of the Lock. Is she not brighter than a summer's morn, When all the heav'n is streak' d with dappled fires, And fleck'd with blushes like a rifled maid ? Lee's Duke of Guise. O she is all perfections ! All that the blooming earth can send forth fair ; All that the gaudy heavens could drop down glorious. Lee's Theodosius. A lavish planet reign' d when she was born, And made her of such kindred mould to heav'n, She seems more heav'n's than ours. Lee's (Edipus. The bloom of opening flowers' unsullied beauty, Softness, and sweetest innocence she wears, And looks like nature in the world's first spring. Rowe's Tamerlane. Is she not more than painting can express, Or youthful poets fancy when they love ? Rowe's Fair Penitent. how I grudge the grave this heav'nly form ! Thy beauties will inspire the arms of death, And warm the pale cold tyrant into life. Southern's Loyal Brother. Her grace of motion and of look, the smooth And swimming majesty of step and tread, The symmetry of form and feature, set The soul afloat, even like delicious airs Of flute or harp. Milman. What tender force, what dignity divine, What virtue consecrating every feature ! Around that neck what dross are gold and pearl ! Young's Busiris. What's female beauty, but an air divine, Through which the mind's all gentle graces shine ? They, like the sun, irradiate all between ; The body charms, because the soul is seen. Hence men are often captives of a face, They know not why, of no peculiar grace : Some forms, though bright, no mortal man can bear; Some, none resist, though not exceeding fair. Young. Beauty ! thou pretty playtning ! dear deceit, That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, And gives it a new pulse unknown before ! The grave discredits thee : thy charms expung'o, Thy roses faded, and thy lilies soil'd, What hast thou more to boast of? will thy lovers Flock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage 7 Methinks I see thee with thy head laid low ; Whilst surfeited upon thy damask cheek, The high-fed worm, in lazy volumes roll'd, Riots unscar'd. For this was all thy caution ? For this thy painful labours at thy glass, T 'improve those charms and keep them in repair For which the spoiler thanks thee not? Foul feeder ! Coarse fare and carrion please thee full as well, And leave as keen a relish on the sense. Blair's Grave. To make the cunning artless, tame the rude, Subdue the haughty, shake th' undaunted soul ; Yea, put a bridle in the lion's mouth, And lead him forth as a domestic cur, These are the triumphs of all-powerful beauty. Joanna Baillie's Basil. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowings of an innocent heart. Rogers's Italy. Beauty, That transitory flower : even while it lasts Palls on the roving sense, when held too near, Or dwelling there too long : by fits it pleases ; And smells at distance best ; its sweets, familiar By frequent converse, soon grow dull and cloy you Jeffery's Edwin With head upraised, and look intent, An eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art In listening mood, she seemed to stand, The guardian naiad of the strand. Scott's Lady of the Lukt, The rose, with faint and feeble streak, So slightly tinged the maiden's cheek, That you had said her hue was pale; But if she faced the summer-gale, Or spoke, or sung, or quicker moved, Or heard the praise of those she loved, Or when of interest was expressed Aught that waked feeling in her breast, The mantling blood in ready play Rivalled the blush of rising day. Scott's Rokcty i(] BEAUTY. JTlicre was a soft and pensive grace, A cast of thought upon her face, That suited well the forehead high, The eye-lash dark, and downcast eye, The mild expression spoke a mind In duty firm, composed, resigned. Scott's Rokeby. Fair all the pageant — but how passing fair The slender form, which lay on couch of Ind ! O'er her white bosom stray'd her hazel hair, Pale her dear cheek, as if for love she pined. Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. Such harmony in motion, speech and air, That without fairness, she was more than fair. Crabbe. Lo ! when the buds expand the leaves are green, Then the first opening of the flower is seen ; Then come the honied breath and rosy smile, That with their sweets the willing sense beguile : But as we look, and love, and taste, and praise, And the fruit grows, the charming flower decays ; Till all is gathered, and the wintry blast Moans o'er the place of love and pleasure past. So 'tis with beauty, — such the opening grace And dawn of glory in the youthful face ; Then are the charms unfolded to the sight, Then all is loveliness and all delight ; The nuptial tie succeeds, and genial hour, And, lo ! the falling off of beauty's flower. So through all nature is the progress made, — The bud, the bloom, the fruit, — and then we fade. Crabbe. Oh ! how refreshing seemed the breathing wind, To her faint limbs ! and while her snowy hands From her fair brow her golden hair unbind, And of her zone unloose the silken bands, More passing bright unveiled her beauty stands ; For faultless was her form as beauty's queen, And every winning grace that love demands With mild attempered dignity was seen Play o'er each lovely limb, and deck her angel mien. Mrs. Tighe's Psyche. Ev'n then her presence had the power To soothe, to warm, — nay, ev'n to bless — If ever bliss could graft its flower On stem so full of bitterness — E\'n then her glorious smile to me, Brought warmth and radiance, if not balm Like moonlight on a troubled sea, brightening the storm it cannot calm. Moore's Loves of the Angels. As rising on its purple wing The insect queen of eastern spring, J'er emerald meadows of Kashmere, Invites the young pursuer near, And leads him on from flower to flower, A weary chase and wasted hour, Then leaves him, as it soars on high, With panting heart and tearful eye : So beauty lures the full-grown child, With hue as bright and wing as wild; A chase of idle hopes and fears, Begun in folly, closed in tears. Byron' 9 Giaour, She was a form of life and light, That, seen, became a part of sight; And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye, The morning star of memory. \ Byron's Giaour, Such was Zuleika ! such around her shone The nameless charms unmarked by her alone : The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonized the whole — And, oh ! that eye was in itself a soul ! Byron's Bride of Abydos. Alone and dewy, coldly pure and pale ; As weeping beauty's cheek at sorrow's tale. Byron's Bride of Abydos. So bright the tear in beauty's eye Love half regrets to kiss it dry, So sweet the blush of bashfuhiess Even pity scarce can wish it less. Byron's Bride of Abydos Who hath not proved how feebly words essay To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray ? Who doth not feel, until his failing sight Faints into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess The might — the majesty of loveliness? Byron's Bride of Abydos. Her glance, how wildly beautiful ! how much Hath Phoebus woo'd in vain to spoil her cheek, Which glows yet smoother from his amorous clutch ! Who round the north for paler dames would seek ? How poor their forms appear ! how languid, wan and weak ! Byron's Childe Harold. Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies. Byron's Btppo, Her overpowering presence made you feel It would not be idolatry to kneel. Byron's Don Juan. Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth , Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth. BEAUTY. 47 Mounting-, at times, to a transparent glow, As if her veins ran lightning. Byron's Don Juan. \n eye 's an eye, and whether black or blue, Is no great matter, so 'tis in request, 'Tis nonsense to dispute about a hue, — The kindest may be taken as a test. The fair sex should be always fair ; and no man, Till thirty, should perceive there's a plain woman. Byron's Don Juan. She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew — As seeking not to know it ; silent, lone, As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew, And kept her heart serene within its zone. There was awe in the homage which she drew, Her spirit seem'd as seated on a throne Apart from the surrounding world, and strong In its own strength — most strange in one so young. Byron's Don Juan. We gaze and turn away, and know not where, Dazzled and drunk with beauty, till the heart Reels with its fulness. Byron. The beautiful is vanish'd, and returns not. Coleridge. There 's beauty all around our paths, If but our watchful eyes Can trace it 'midst familiar things And through their lowly guise. Mrs. Hemans. True beauty never was defin'd — And features painted to the mind Are perfect only to the blind, Who never scan the image o'er. Mrs. Hale. Some souls lose all things but the love of beauty; And by that love they are redeemable. For in love and beauty they acknowledge good, And good is Gocl. Bailey's Festus. The beautiful are never desolate ; But some one always loves them. Bailey's Festus. Beauty gives The features perfectness, and to the form Its delicate proportions : she may stain The eye with a celestial blue — the cheek With carmine of the sunset ; she may breathe Grace into every motion, like the play Of the least visible tissue of a cloud : She may give all that is within her own Bright cestus — and one glance of intellect, Like st-zonger magic, will outshine it all. Willi*. Beautiful, yes ! but the blush will fade, The light grow dim which tne blue eyes wear The gloss will vanish from curl and braid, And the sunbeam die in the waving hair. Turn from the mirror, and strive to win Treasures of loveliness still to last ; Gather earth's glory and bloom within, That the soul may be bright when youth is past Mrs. Osgood. Thou art beautiful, young lady, — But I need not tell you this ; For few have borne, unconsciously, The spell of loveliness. Whittier I've gaz'd on many a brighter face, But ne'er on one for years, Where beauty left so soft a trace As it had left on hers. Mrs. Welly The face, O call it fair, not pale. Coleridge. A thing of beauty is a joy for ever. Shelley. No wonder that cheek in its beauty transcendant, Excelleth the beauty of others by far ; No wonder that eye is so richly resplendent, For your heart is a rose and your soul is a star. Mrs. Osgood. — Her cheek had the pale pearly pink Of sea-shells, the world's sweetest tint, as though She lived, one half might deem, on roses sopp'd In silver dew. Bailey's Festus. When I forget that the stars shine in air, When I forget that beauty is in stars — Shall I forget thy beauty. Bailey. Thy glorious beauty was the gift of heaven, — As such thou should'st have priz'd it, and have died Ere thou didst yield it up to mortal touch, Unless thy heart went with it, to make pure And sanctify the offering. Mrs. Osgood. What right have you, madam, gazing in your shining mirror daily, Getting so by heart your beauty, which all others must adore ; While you draw the golden ringlets down your fingers, to vow gayly, You will wed no man that's o -ly good to God,--- and nothing more. Miss BarrtU Beauty — the fading rainbow's nride HalUck 48 BED -BEES -BEGGAR. Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oil, what were man ! — a world without a sun! Campbell. Beauty nas gone ; but yet her mind is still As beautiful as ever ; still the play Of light around her lips has every charm Of childhood in its freshness. Percival. O, say not, wisest of all the kings, That hnrvc risen on Israel's throne to reign, Say not, as one of your wisest things, That grace is false and beauty vain. John Pierpont. Is beauty vain because it will fade ? Then are earth's green robe and heaven's light vain; For this shall be lost in evening's shade, And that in winter's sleety rain. John Pierpont. I would that thou mightst ever be As beautiful as now; That time might ever leave as free Thy yet unwritten brow. Willis. She was like A dream of poetry, that may not be Written or told — exceeding beautiful. Willis. Beauty was lent to nature as the type Of heaven's unspeakable and holy joy, Where all perfection makes the sum of bliss. Mrs. Hale. BED. Oh! thou gentle scene Of sweet repose, where, by th' oblivious draught Of each sad toilsome day to peace restor'd. Unhappy mortals lose their woes awhile ; Thou hast no peace for me ! Thomsons Tancred and Sigismunda. Night is the time for rest; — How sweet, when labours close, To gather round an aching breast The curtain of repose, Stretch the tir'd limbs and lay the head Down on our own delightful bed ! James Montgomery. BEES. Look on the bee upon the wing 'mong flower* ; — How brave, how bright his life ! then mark him hiv'd, Cramp'd, cringing in his self-built, social cell. Thus is it in the world-hive : most where men Lie deep in cities as in drifts. Bailei/$ Festus So work the honey-bees; Creatures that, by a rule in nature, teach The art of ordtr to a peopled kingdom. Shaks. Henry V, BEGGAR. Art thou a man ? And sham'st thou not to beg ? To practise such a servile kind of life ? Why, were thy education ne'er so mean, Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses Offer themselves to thy election. Jonson'e Every Man in his Hummr. Men of thy condition feed on sloth, As doth the beetle on the dung she breeds in ; Not caring how the metal of your minds Is eaten with the rust of idleness. Jonsori's Every Man in his Humour When beggars grow thus bold, No marvel then though charity grow cold. Drayton, Base worldlings, that despise all such as need ; Who to the needy beggar still are dumb, Not knowing unto what themselves may come. Heywood's Royal King. He makes a beggar first that first relieves him ; Not us'rers make more beggars where they live, Than charitable men that use to give. Heywood's Royal King. Beggar? — the only free men of our common- wealth, Free above scot-free, that observe no laws, Obey no governor, use no religion, But what they draw from their own ancient custom, Or constitute themselves, yet are no rebels. Brome. His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wand'rings but reliev'd their pain ; The long remember'd beggar was his guest, Whose beard descending swept his aged breast. Goldsmiths Deserted Village. The beggar, as he stretch'd his shrivei'd hand, Rais'd not his eyes — and those who dropp'd the mite Pass'd on unnotie'd. Bailey. A beggar through the world am .1, From place to place I wander by; — Fill up my pilgrim's scrip for me, For Christ's sweet sake and charity! James Russell Lowell BENEFITS - BIGOTRY. 49 See yonder poor, o'cr-labour'd wight, So abject, mean and vile, Who begs a brother of the Ciirth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn! Burns. BENEFITS. A benefit upbraided, forfeits thanks. Lady Carew's Mariam. And 't is not sure so full a benefit, Freely to give, as freely to require. A bounteous act hath glory following it, They cause the glory, that the act desire. Lady Cavern's Mariam. He that neglects a blessing, though he want A present knowledge how to use it, Neglects himself. Beaumont and Fletcher's Elder Brother. To brag of benefits one hath bestown, Doth make the best seem less, and most seem none ; So oftentimes the greatest courtesy Is by the doer made an injury. Brome's Novella. BIGOTRY. Sure 'tis an orthodox opinion, That grace is founded in dominion. Butler's Hudibras. Nor does it follow, 'cause a herald Can make a gentleman scarce a year old, To be descended of a race Of ancient kings in a small space, That we should all opinions hold Authentic that we can make old. Butler's Hudibras. Soon their crude notions with each other fought ; The adverse sect deny'd what this had taught ; And he at length the amplest triumph gain'd, Who contradicted what the last maintain'd. Prior's Solomon, For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; His can 't be wrong, whose life is in the right. Pope's Essay on Man. Heav'n never took a pleasure or a pride, In starving stomachs, or a horsewhipp'd hide. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar. Yet some there are, of men I think the worst, Poor imps ! unhappy, if they can 't be curst Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar. D The good old man, too eager in dispute, Flew high ; and, as his Christian fury rose, Damn'd all for heretics who durst oppose. Dry den's Religio Laid The guiltless victim groan'd for their offence, And cruelty and blood was penitence ; If sheep and oxen could atone for men, Ah ! at how cheap a rate the rich might sin ! And great oppressors might heaven's wrath be guile, By offering his own creatures for a spoil. Dry den's Religio Laid. The slaves of custom and establish'd mode, With pack-horse constancy we keep the road, Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells, True to the jingling of our leader's bells. Cowper's Tirocinium. To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think. Comperes Tirocinium, Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree ? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, If he kneel not before the same altar with me From the heretic girl of my soul shall I fly, To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss ? No ! perish the hearts, and the laws that try Truth, valour, or love, by a standard like this. Moort, And many more such pious scraps, To prove (what we 've long prov'd perhaps) That mad as Christians us'd to be About the thirteenth century, There 's lots of Christians to be had In this, the nineteenth, just as mad ! Moore's Twopenny Post Bag. Yet spite of tenets so flagitious (Which must, at bottom, be seditious ; As no man living would refuse Green slippers, but from treasonous views ; Nor wash his toes but with intent To overturn the government !) Such is our mild and tolerant way, We only curse them twice a day, (According to a form that's set) And far from torturing, only let All orthodox believers beat 'em, And twitch their beards, where'er they meet 'em. Moore's Twopenny Post Bag. Where frugal monks their little relics show, And sundry legends to the stranger tell ■ Here impious men have punish'd been, and lo ' Deep in yon cave Honorius long did dwell In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell. ) Byron's Childe Han*A 50 BIRDS. If tliis be true, indeed, Some Christians have a comfortable creed. Byron's Don Juan. Thou wilt absolve me from the deed, For he was hostile to thy creed ! The very name of Nazarcne Was wormwood to his Paynim spleen. Byron's Giaour. A.nd soul — but who shall answer where it went? 'Tis ours to bear, not judge the dead ; and they Who doom to hell, themselves are on the way, Unless these bullies of eternal pains Are pardoned their bad hearts for their worse brains. Byron's Island. My soul had drawn Light from the Book whose words are graved in light, There at the well-head had I found the dawn, And day, and noon, of freedom : — but too bright It shines on that which man to man hath given, And call'd the truth — the very truth from heaven ; And therefore seeks he, in his brother's sight To cast the mote, — and therefore strives to bind With his strong chain to earth, what is not Earth's — the Mind. Mrs. Hemans. Trust not the teacher with his lying scroll, Who tears the charter of thy shuddering soul ; The God of love, who gave the life that warms All breathing dust in all its varied forms, Asks not the tribute of a world like this To fill the measure of his perfect bliss. O. W. Holmes. BIRDS. But like the birds, great nature's happy com- moners, That haunt in woods, in meads and flow'ry gardens, Rifle the sweets and taste the choicest fruits, Yet scorn to ask the lordly owner's leave. Route's Fair Penitent. Up springs the lark, .Shrill voie'd, and loud, the messenger of morn ; Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts Calls up the tuneful nations. Thomson's Seasons. Every copse Deep tangled, tree irregular, and bush Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads Of the coy quiristers that lodge within, Ajc orodigai of harmony. The thrush And wood-lark, o'er the kind contending throng Superior heard, run through the sweetest length Of notes ; when listening Philomela deigns To let them joy, and purposes in thought Elate, to make her night excel the day. Thomson's Seasons All abandon'd to despair, she sings Her sorrows through the night ; and, on the bough Sole sitting, still at every dying fall Takes up again her lamentable strain Of winding woe ; till, wide around, the woods Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound. Thomson's Seasons. 'Tis love creates their melody, and all This waste of music is the voice of love ; That even to birds, and beasts, the tender arts Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind Try every winning way inventive love Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates Pour forth their little souls. Thomson's Seasons Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one The live-long night : nor these alone whose notes Nice finger' d art must emulate in vain, But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime In still repeated circles, screaming loud ; The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl That hails the rising moon, have charms for me. Cowper's Task. Loud sung the lark, the awaken'd maid Beheld him twinkling in the morning light, And wish'd for wings and liberty like his. Southey's Thalaba. Amid the flashing and feathery foam The stormy Petrel finds a home. Proctor. A light broke in upon my soul— It was the carol of a bird ; It ceased — and then it came again, The sweetest song ear ever heard. Byron. See the enfranchised bird, who wildly springs With a keen sparkle in his glowing eye, And a strong effort in his quivering wings Up to the blue vault of the happy sky. Mrs. Norton. The star of our forest dominions, The humming-bird darts to its food, Like a gem or a blossom, on pinions, Whose glory illumines the woods. Mrs. Osgoca. With sonorous notes Of every tone, mix'd in confusion sweet Our forest rings. Cailos Wilcox. BIRTH. 51 Fair is the swan, whose majesty prevailing O'er breezeless water, on Locano's lake, Bears him on, while proudly sailing He leaves behind a moon-illumin'd wake ; Behold ! the mantling spirit of reserve Fashions his neck into a goodly curve ; An arch thrown back between luxuriant wings Of whitest garniture, like fir-tree boughs, To which, on some unruffled morning clings A flaky weight of winter's purest snows. Wordsworth. Is that a swam that rides upon the water ? O no, it is that other gentle bird, A goose. O. W. Holmes. The noisy geese that gabbled in the pool. Goldsmith. And the ruffling bird of Juno, — And the wren in the old wall, Each knew her loving carefulness And came at her soft call. Mrs. Hale's Alice Ray. The robin to the garden or green yard, Close to the door repairs to build again Within her wonted tree. Carlos Wilcox. The brown vultures of the woods llock'd to these vast uncover'd sepulchres And sat unscar'd and silent at their feast. Bryant. Lone whippoorwill ; There is much sweetness in thy fitful hymn, Heard in the drowsy watches of the night. Isaac McLellan, Jr. Seeing one crow is lucky, 'tis true, But sure misfortune attends on two, And meeting with three is the devil. M. G. Lewis. With storm-daring pinion, and sun-gazing eye, The Grey Forest Eagle is king of the sky. Alfred B. Street. An emblem of Freedom, stern, haughty and high Is the Grey Forest Eagle, that king of the sky, It scorns the bright scenes, the gay places of earth — By the mountain and torrent it springs into birth ; There rock'd by the wild wind, baptiz'd by the foam, It is guarded and cherish'd, and there is its home. Alfred B. Street. flark ! how with lone and fluttering start The sky-lark soars above, And with her full, melodious heart, She pours her strains of love. Mrs. Welby. The pilgrim swallow cometh To her forsaken nest, — So must each heart, that roameth, Return to find its rest Where love makes summer lustre. Mrs. Halt Ever, my son, be thou like the dove ; In friendship as faithful, as constant in love. Bishop Doane. There from a neighbouring thicket the mocking. bird, wildest of singers, Swung aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, Shook from his little throat such floods of delicious music, That the whole air and the woods and the waves seem'd to listen. Longfellow's Evangeline. Hark ! that sweet carol ! what delights, The scene no more is dumb, — The little blue-bird is in sight, Spring, glorious Spring, has come. Street's Poems. The partridge, whose deep-rolling drum, Afar has sounded on my ear, Ceasing its beatings as I come, Whirrs to the sheltering branches near. Street's Poems The quail's quick whistle echoed clear, From the red buckwheat-stubble near. Street's Poems This great solitude is quick with life ; And birds that scarce have learn'd the fear of men Are here. Bryant BIRTH. Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief, And wear a go] den sorrow. Shaks. Henry Vlli Madam, you haply scorn the vulgar earth Of which I stand compacted : and because I cannot add a splendour to my name, Reflective from a royal pedigree, You interdict my language ; but be pleas'c To know, the ashes of my ancestors, If intermingled in the tomb with kings, . Could hardly be distinguished. The stars shoot An equal influence on th' open cottage, Where the poor shepherd's child is rudely nurs'd, As on the cradle where the prince is rock'd With car$ and whisper. Habbington's Queen of Arragon tte BIRTHDAY - BLINDNESS. No distinction is 'tween man and man, But as his virtues add to him a glory, Or vices cloud him. Habbingtori's Queen of Arragon. Put off your giant titles, then I can Stand in your judgment's blank and equal man, Though hills advanced arc above the plain, They are but higher earth, nor must disdain Alliance with the vale : we sec a spade Can level them, and make a mount a glade. Howc'er we differ in the herald's book, He that mankind's extraction shall look In nature's rolls, must grant we all agree In our best parts, immortal pedigree. Dr. Henry King, Bishop of Chichester. Let high birth triumph ! what can be more great? Nothing — but merit in a low estate. To virtue's humblest son let none prefer Vice, though descended from the Conqueror. Shall man, like figures, pass for high, or base, Slight or important, only by their place ? Titles are marks of honest men, and wise ; The fool, or knave, that wears a title, lies. Young. Look up, my young American, Stand firmly on the earth, Where noble deeds and mental power Give titles over birth. Mrs. Caroline Gilman. Tradition's pages Tell not the planting of thy parent tree. Halleck. I have had dreams of greatness, glorious dreams, How I would play the lord ! — How I would spurn The littleness of that false pride which seeks To build on pedigree its high renown : — How I would lend my influence to suppress The haughtiness of titled rank, and teach That brain, not Hood was proof of noble birth. Mrs. Halt's Grosvenor ; a Tragedy. I 've learned to judge of men by their own deeds, I do not make the accident of birth The standard of their merit. Mrs. Hale's Grosvenor. He was poor and lowly born, and lived Where merit must be heralded by birth, Or bought with gold. Mrs. Hale's Grosvenor. BIRTHDAY. Alas ! this day first gave me birth, and (which is strange to tell) The fates e'er sinoe, as watching its return, Have caught it as it flew, and mavk'd it deep With something great ; extremes of good or ill. Young's Busiria If any white-winged power above My joys and griefs survey, The day when thou wert born, my love, — He surely blessed that day. And duly shall my raptured song, And gladly shall my eyes Still bless this day's return, so long As thou shalt sec it rise. Campbell. Another year ! another leaf Is turned within life's volume brief, And yet not one bright page appears Of mine within that book of years. Hoffman. Yet all I've learnt from hours rife With painful brooding here, Is, that amid this mortal strife, The lapse of every year But takes away a hope from life, And adds to death a fear. Hoffman. Why should we count our life by years, Since years are short, and pass away ! Or, why by fortune's smiles or tears, Since tears are vain and smiles decay ! O ! count by virtues — these shall last When life's lame-footed race is o'er ; And these, when earthly joys are past, May cheer us on a brighter shore. Mrs. Hale My birthday ! O, beloved mother ! My heart is with thee o'er the seas. I did not think to count another, Before I wept upon thy knees. Willis BLINDNESS. Where am I now ? I thought the way to death had been so broad, Tho' I were blind, I could not miss the road : Death's lodgings such perpetual darkness have, And I seem nothing but a walking grave. Sir Robert Howard's Vestal Virgin O happiness of blindness ! now no beauty Inflames my lust; no other's good my envy; Or misery, my pity ; no man's wealth Draws my respect ; nor poverty my scorn * Yet still I see enough ! man to himself Is a large prospect, rais'd above the level Of his low creeping thoughts ; if then I have A world within myself, that world shall be BLUNTNESS. 63 My empire ; there I '11 reign, commanding freely, And willingly obey'd, secure from fear Of foreign forces, or domestic treasons, And hold a monarchy more free, more absolute, Than in my father's seat ; and looking down With scorn, or pity, on the slipp'ry state Of kings, will tread upon the neck of fate. Denham's Sophy. These eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope ; but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask ? The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This might lead me through the world's vain mask Content, though blind, had I no better guide. Milton. O loss of sight, of thee I most complain ! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, Dungeons or beggary or decrepid age ! Light, the prime work of God, to me 's extinct, And all her various objects of delight Annull'd which might in part my grief have eas'd. Milton's Sajnson Agonisies. dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrevocably dark, total eclipse Without all hope of day ! O first created beam, and thou great word, Let there be light, and light was over all ; Why am I thus bereav'd the prime decree ? Milton's Samson Agonistes. Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut of£ and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with an universal blank Of nature's works to me expung'd and ras'd, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. Milton' 1 8 Paradise Lost. Ye have a world of light, Where love in the loved rejoices ; Cut the blind man's home is the house of night, And its beings are empty voices. Bulwer. I ken the night and day, For all ye may believe, And often in my spirit lies A clear light as of mid-day skies ; And splendours on my vision rise, Like gorgeous hues of eve. Mary Howiti For oh ! while others gaze on Nature's face, The verdant vale, the mountains, woods and streams, Or with delight ineffable survey The sun, — bright image of his parent God; — Whilst others view Heaven's all-involving arch, Bright with unnumber'd worlds, and lost in joy, Fair order and utility behold ; — To me those fair vicissitudes are lost, And grace and beauty blotted from my view. Dr. Thomas Blacklock Thou walk 'st the world in daily night : In vain they gleam, in vain for thee, The morn upon the mountain height, The golden sunset on the sea. Mrs. Osgood, He, whom Nature thus bereaves, Is ever Fancy's favourite child; For thee, enchanted dreams she weaves Of changeful beauty, bright and wild. Mrs. Osgood BLUNTNESS. This is some fellow, "Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb, Quite from his nature : he can't flatter, he ! — An honest mind and plain, — he must speak truth : An they will take it, so ; if not, he 's plain. These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain ness Harbour more craft, and far corrupter ends, Than twenty silly ducking observants, That stretch their duty nicely. Shaks. Lear This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite. Shales. Julius Ca&ai. I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Nor actions, nor utterance, nor the power o 1 speech, To stir men's blood : I only speak right on. ShaTiS. Julius Casai 5* M BLUSHING - BOASTING. On Beauty's lids the gem-like tear BLUSHING. Oft sheds its evanescent ray, But scarce is seen to sparkle, ere The doubtfull mayd, seeing herselfe descryde, 'Tis chased by beaming smiles away: Was all abasht, and her pure yvory Just so the blush is formed — and flies — Into a clear carnation suddeine dyde ; Nor owns reflection's calm control : As fayre Aurora rysing hastily It comes, it deepens — fades and dies, Doth by her blushing tell that she did lye A gush of feeling from the soul. All night iD old Tithonus' frozen bed, Mrs. Dinnies. Whereof she seems ashamed inwardly. The lilies faintly to the roses yield, Spenser's Fairy Queen. As on thy lovely cheek they struggling vie, Confusion thrilPd me then, and secret joy, (Who would not strive upon so sweet a field Fast throbbing, stole its treasures from my heart, To win the mastery ?) And mantling upward, turn'd my face to crimson. And thoughts are in thy speaking eyes reveal'd, Brooke's Gustavus Vasa. Pure as the fount the prophet's rod unseal'd. From every blush that kindles in thy cheeks, Ten thousand little loves and graces spring Hoffman, To revel in the roses. BOASTING. Rowers Tamerlane. Jove ! let it become Confound me not with shame, nor call up all To boast my deeds, when he whom they concern The blood that warms my trembling heart, Shall thus forget them. To fill my cheeks with blushes. Jonson's Sejanus. Trap's Albramule. The honour is overpaid, With every change his features played, When he that did the act is commentator. As aspens show the light and shade. Shirley. Scott's Rokeby. He that vaunts Truly his penetrating eye Of a received favour ought to be Hath caught that blush's passing dye, — Punish'd as sacrilegious persons are. Like the last beam of evening thrown 'Cause he doth violate that sacred thing, On a white cloud, — just sSen and gone. Pure, spotless honour. Scott's Lord of the Isles. Cartwright's Royal Slave. Alas ! that in our earliest blush For then we wound our modesty, and make Our danger first we feel, And tremble when the rising flush Foul the clearness of our deservings, when Of ourselves we publish them. Shaks.AIVs Well Betrays some angel's seal! Who knows himself a braggart, Alas ! for care and pallid woe Let him fear this; for it will come to pass Sit watchers in their turn, Where heaven's too faint and transient glow That every braggart shall be found an ass. Shaks. AIVs WeU So soon forgets to burn ! Here 's a large mouth, indeed, Maiden! through every change the same That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, anc Sweet semblance thou mayst wear; seas; Ay, scorch thy very soul with shame, Talks as familiarly of roaring lions, Thy brow may still be fair: As maids of thirteen do of puppy dogs. But if thy lovely cheek forget Shaks. King John rhe rose of purer years — I know them, yea, Say, does not memory sometimes wet And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple : That changeless cheek with tears? Scambling, out-facing, fashion mong'ring boys, 0. W. Holmes. That lie, and coy, and flout, deprave and slander, Give me the eloquent cheek, Go antickly, and show outward hideousness, Where blushes burn and die; And speak off half a dozen dangerou? words, I /ike thine its changes speak How they might hurt their enemies if they durst; The spirit's purity! And this is alL Mrs. Osgood's Poems. Sliaks. Much Ado. BOOKS. 5a I '11 turn two mincing stops Into a manly stride ; and speak of frays Like a fine bragging- youth ; and tell quaint lies, How honourable ladies sought my love, Which I denying, they fell sick and died : I could not do with all : — then I will repent, ^Jid wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them, And twenty of these puny lies I '11 tell, That men shall swear I have discontinued school Above a twelvemonth. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. What art thou ? Have not I An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ? Thy words, I grant, are bigger ; for I wear not My dagger in my mouth. Shaks. Cymbeline. He made me mad, To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman Of guns, and drums, and wounds (God save the mark !) And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth Was parnaacity, for an inward bruise ; And that it was great pity, so it was, This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd So cowardly : and but for these wild guns, He would himself have been a soldier. Shaks. Henry IV. A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, A boar-spear in my hand ; and (in my heart Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will) We'll have a swashing and a martial outside ; As many other mannish cowards have, That do outface it with their semblances. Shaks. As you like it. Here is a silly, stately style indeed ! The Turk that two and fifty kingdoms hath, Writes not so tedious a style as this. Shaks. Henry IV. Nay, an thou 'It mouth, I'll rant as well as thou. Shaka. Hamlet. A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing jack, That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. Shaks. Taming the Shrew. So spake the apostate angel, though in pain, Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair. Milton's Paradise Lost. We rise in glory, as we sink in pride ; Where boasting ends, there dignity begins. Young's Night Thoughts. For men (it is reported) dash and vapour Less on the field of battle than on paper. Thus in the hist'ry of each dire campaign More carnage loads the newspaper than plain. Dr. WolcoVs Peter Pindv BOOKS. And though books, madam, cannot make this mind, Which we must bring apt to be set aright ; Yet do they rectify it in that kind, And touch it so, as that it turns that way Where judgment lies. And though we cannot find The certain place of truth, yet do they stay, And entertain us near about the same. Daniel. A book ! O rare one ! Be not, as is our fangled word, a garment Nobler than that it covers. Shaks. Cymbeline Books should to one of these four ends conduce For wisdom, piety, delight, or use. Denham Learning is more profound When in few solid authors 't may be found. A few good books, digested well, do feed The mind; much cloys, or doth ill humours breed Robert Heath. Give me Leave to enjoy myself. That place that does Contain my books, the best companions, is To me a glorious court, where hourly I Converse with the old sages and philosophers ; And sometimes for variety, I confer With kings and emperors, and weigh their coun« sels; Calling their victories, if unjustly got, Unto a strict account ; and in my fancy, Deface their ill-plac'd statues. Can I then Part with such constant pleasures, to embrace Uncertain vanities ? No : be it your care To augment a heap of wealth : it shall be" mine To increase in knowledge. Fletche* Books are part of man's prerogative, In formal ink they thought and voices hold, That we to them our solitude may give, And make time present travel that of old. Our life, fame pieceth longer at the end, And books it farther backward doth extend. Sir Thomas Ou 'Tis in books the chief Of all perfections to be plain and brief Butter 56 BOUNTY - BREVITY - BRIBERY. Tweie .-cell with most, if books, that could engage Their childhood, pleas'd them at a riper age; The man approving what had charm'd the boy, Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy ; And not with curses on his art, who stole The gem of truth from his unguarded soul. Cowper. Books are men of higher stature, And the only men that speak aloud for future times to hear ! Miss Barrel? s Poems. Come let me make a sunny realm around thee, Of thought and beauty! — Here are books and flowers, With spells to loose the fetters which hath bound thee, The ravell'd evil of this world's feverish hours. Mrs. Hemans. The past but lives in words : a thousand ages Were blank, if books had not evok'd their ghosts, And kept the pale, unbodied shades to warn us From fleshless lips. Bulwer. 'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book 's a book although there 's nothing in 't. Byron. 'T was heaven to lounge upon a couch, said Gray, And read new novels on a rainy day. Charles Sprague. A blessing on the printer's art! — Books are the Mentors of the heart. Mrs. Hale. The burning soul, the burden'd mind In books alone companions find. Mrs. Hale. Turn back the tide of ages to its head, And hoard the wisdom of the honour'd dead. Charles Sprague. "What he has written seems to me no more Than I have thought a thousand times before. Willis. We never speak our deepest feelings; Our holiest hopes have no revealings, Save in the gleams that light the face, Or fancies that the pen may trace. And hence to books the heart must turn When with unspoken thoughts we yearn, And gather from the silent page The just reproof, the counsel sage, The consolation kind and true That soothes and heals the wounded heart Mrs. HaWs Vigil of Love. l'ii* there's a fever of the soul Beyond this opiate control, v^hen the Dooic charm its influence loses. Mrs. HaWs Vigil of Love. BOUNTY. What you desire of him, he partly begs To be desir'd to give. It much would please him That of his fortunes you would make a staff To lean upon. Shahs. Antony and Cleopatra. For his bounty, There was no winter in 't ; an autumn 't was That grew the more by reaping. Shaks. Antony and Cleopatra O blessed bounty, giving all content ! The only fautress of all noble arts, That lend'st success to every good intent, A grace that rests in the most godlike hearts, By heav'n to none but happy souls infus'd, Pity it is, that e'er thou wast abus'd. Draytcn. He that's liberal To all alike, may do a good by chance, But never out of judgment. Beaumont and Fletcher's Spanish Curate. Such moderation with thy bounty join, That thou may'st nothing give that is not thine * That liberality is but cast away, Which makes us borrow what we cannot pay. Denham. Large was his bounty and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send ; He gave to misery all he had — a tear; — He gain'd from heaven — 't was all he wish'd — a friend ! Gray. BREVITY. Since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. Shahs. Hamlet 'T is of books the chief Of all perfections to be plain and brief. Butler. Stop not, unthinking, every friend you meet To spin your wordy fabric in the street ; While you are emptying your colloquial pack, The fiend Lwnbago jumps upon his back. 0. W. Holmes BRIBERY. What ! shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this *rorId, But for supporting robbers ; — shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes 7 BUILDING - CALAMITY. 57 And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash, as may be grasped thus ? I'd rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. Shales. Julius Casar. .None does offend, none, I say none ; I'll able 'em: Take that of me, my friend, who have the power To seal the accuser's lips. Shaks. Lear. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemn' d to have an itching palm; To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. Shales. Julius Ccesar. The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law : The world affords no law to make thee rich ; Then be not poor, but break it and take this. Shaks. Romeo and Juliet. Who thinketh to buy villany with gold, Shall ever find such faith so bought — so sold. Marstorts Sophonisba. Silver, though white, Yet it draws black lines ; it shall not rule my palm There to mark forth his base corruption. Middleton and Ron-ley' s Fair Quarrel. Petitions not sweetened With gold, are but unsavoury and oft refused ; Or if received, are pocketed, not read. A suitor's swelling tears by the glowing beams Of choleric authority are dried up Before they fall, or if seen, never pitied. Massinger. No, I '11 not trust the honour of a man : Gold is grown great, and makes perfidiousness A most common waiter in most princes' courts : He 's in the check-roll : I '11 not trust my blood : I know none breathing but will cog a dye for twenty thousand double pistolets. Marston. BUILDING. Here the architect Did not with curious skill a pile erect Of carved marble, touch, or porphyry, But built a house for hospitality; No sumptuous chimney-piece of shining stone [nvites the stranger's eye to gaze upon, \nd coldly entertain his sight, but clear And cheerful flames cherish and warm him here, Carew. tfot walls, but subjects' love Do to a prince the strongest castle prove. Goffe's Raging Turk. CALAMITY. Do not insult calamity : It is a barb'rous grossness, to lay on The weight of scorn, where heavy misery Too much already weighs men's fortunes down DanieVs Philotas. Calamity is man's true touch-stone. Beaumont and Fletcher's Four Plays in One How wisely fate ordain' d for human kind Calamity ! which is the perfect glass Wherein we truly see and know ourselves. How justly it created life too short ! For being incident to many griefs, Had it been destin'd to continue long, Fate, to please fools, had done the wise great wrong. Sir W. DavenanCs haw against Lovers. Know, he that Foretells his own calamity, and makes Events before they come, twice over doth Endure the pains of evil destiny. But we must trust to virtue, not to fate ; That may protect, whom cruel stars will hate. Sir W. Davenanfs Distresses. Thus, sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud , And, after summer, ever more succeeds Barren winter with his wrathful nipping cold ; So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. Shaks. Henry VI. When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys Fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees, At every little breath misfortune blows ; 'Till left quite naked of their happiness, In the chill blasts of winter they expire. This is the common lot. Young. Tell me no more Of my soul's lofty gifts ! Are they not vain To quench its haunting thirst for happiness ? Have I not loved, and striven, and failed to bind One true heart unto me, whereon my own Might find a resting-place, a home for all Its burden of affection ? I depart Unknown, though Fame goes with me ; I must leave The earth unknown. Mrs. Heman*. I turn me back, and find a barren waste, Joyless and rayless ; a few spots are there, Where briefly it was granted me to taste The tenderness of youthful love — in air The charm is broken. PeravtU ~ f)S CALM -CANDOUR. The sea is like a silvery lake, CALM. And o'er its calm the vessel glides Gently as if it fcar'd to wake Pure was ib c temp'rate air, an even calm The slumbers of the silent tides. Perpc'.ual rnign'd, save what the zephyrs bland Moor* Brcatli'd o'er the blue expanse. Serenely my heart took the hue of the hour, Thomson's Seasons. Its passions were sleeping, were mute as the dead, Gradual sinks the breeze And the spirit becalm'd but remember'd their Into a perfect calm ; that not a breath power, 1 heard to quiver thro' the closing- woods, As the billow the force of the gale that was fled ! Or rustling- turn the many twinkling leaves Moore. Of aspen tall. The uncurling floods, diffus'd And all was stillness, save the sea-bird's cry, In glassy breadth, seem through delusive lapse, And dolphin's leap, and little billow crost Forgetful of their course. 'Tis silence all, By some low rock or shelve, that made it fret And pleasing expectation. Against the boundary it scarcely wet. Thomson's Seasons. Byron's Don Juan. The wind breathed soft as lovers sigh, So calm the waters scarcely seem to stray, And oft renew'd seem'd oft to die, And yet they glide like happiness away. With breathless pause between. Byron's Lara. O who with speech of war and woes, When all the fiercer passions cease, Would wish to break the soft repose (The glory and disgrace of youth) ; Of such enchanting scene ! When the deluded soul in peace, ScoWs Lord of the Isles. Can listen to the voice of truth ; When we are taught in whom to trust, St. George's banner, broad and gay, And how to spare, to spend, to give ; Now faded, as the fading ray (Our prudence kind, our pity just,) Less bright, and less, was flung ; 'Tis then we rightly learn to live. The evening gale had scarce the power Crabbe. To wave it on the donjon tower, Thy beauty is as undenied So heavily it hung. As the beauty of a star ; Scoffs Marmion. And thy heart beats just as equally, 'Twas one of those ambrosial eves A day of storm so often leaves At its calm setting — when the west Opens her golden bowers to rest, Whate'er thy praises are ; And so long without a parallel Thy loveliness hath shone, That, followed like the tided moon, And a moist radiance from the skies Thou movest as calmly on. Willia Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes Of some meek penitent, whose last Bright hours atone for dark ones past, CANDOUR. And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven, Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick Shine as they fall with light from heaven ! And welcome, Somerset : — I hold it cowardice Moore's Lalla Rookh. To rest mistrustful where a noble heart How calm, — how beautiful comes on Hath paw'd an open hand in sign of love. The stilly hour, when storms are gone, Shaks. Henry VIII. When warring winds have died away, Make my breast And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, Transparent as pure crystal, that the world, Melt off and leave the land and sea, Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought Sleeping in bright tranquillity; — My heart does hold. When the blue waters rise and fall, Buckingham, In sleepy sunshine mantling all; The brave do never shun the light ; And ev'n that swell the tempest leaves, Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers Is like the full and silent heaves Truly without disguise they love or hate • Of lovers' hearts, when newly blest, Still are they found in the fair face of day, Toe newly to be quite at rest ! And heav'n and men are judges of their actions Moore's Lalla Rookh. Rowe's Fair Penitent CARE. 59 You tain to me in parables : You may have known that I 'm no wordy man ; Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves Or fools that us& them, when they want good sense ; But honesty Needs no disguise nor ornament : be plain. Otway. 'Tis great — 'tis manly to disdain disguise; It shows our spirit, or it proves our strength. Young's Night Thoughts. No haughty gesture marks his gait, No pompous tone his word, No studied attitude is seen, No palling nonsense heard ; He '11 suit his bearing to the hour, Laugh, listen, learn or teach, With joyous freedom in his mirth And candour in his speech. Eliza Cook. CARE. Rude was his garment, and to rags all rent, Ne better had he, ne for better cared ; With blist'red hands amongst the cinders brent, And fingers fdthy, with long nayles unpared, Right fit to rend the food on which he fared : His name was Care ; a blacksmith by his trade, That neither day nor night from working spared, But to small purpose yron wedges made : Those be unquiet thoughts that careful minds in- vade. • Spenser's Fairy Queen. In care they live, and must for many care ; And such the best and greatest ever are. Lord Brooks's Alaham. Of all proceedings in this great affair, We must not use our fortunes, but our care. Clapthorne's Albertus Wallenstein. Although my cares do hang upon my soul Like mines of lead, the greatness of my spirit Shall shake the sullen weight off. Clapthorne's Albertus Wallenstein. What bliss, what wealth, did e'er the world be- stow On man, but cares and fears attended it ? May's Agrippina. Care that is enter'd once into the breast, Will have the whole possession ere it rest. Jonson's Tale of a Tub. Tims sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud, And after summer ever more succeeds Bairen winter with his wrathful nipping cold; So cares and joys abound as seasons fleet. Shaks. Henry VI. Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodgeth sleep ^ ill never lie. Shaks. Romeo and Juliei Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, For things that are not to be remedied. SItaks. Henry VI You have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed : and yesternight, at suppei, You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, Musing, and sighing, with your arms across : And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You star'd upon me with ungentle looks. Shaks. Julius Ccesar Care that in cloisters only seals her eyes, Which youth thinks folly, age and wisdom owns ' Fools by not knowing her, outlive the wise ; She visits cities, but she dwells on thrones. Sir W. DavenanU But human bodies are sic fools, For a' their colleges and schools, That when nae real ills perplex them, They mak' enow themsels to vex them. Burns. He woke, — to watch the lamp, and tell From hour to hour the castle-bell, Or listen to the owlet's cry, Or the sad breeze that whistles by, Or catch by fits the tuneless rhyme With which the warden cheats the time; And envying think, how, when the sun Bids the poor soldier's watch be done, Couched on his straw, and fancy-free, He sleeps like careless infancy. Scott's Rokeby, And on, with many a step of pain, Our weary race is sadly run ; And still, as on we plod our way, We find, as life's gay dreams depart, To close our being's troubled day, Nought left us but a broken heart PercivaL What shouldst thou have ever known Of that blind goddess which deludes the world / Or what of Care ? Oh, if the joys of life Are linked with wealth, and fortune's gifts alone Can make us happy, then thy cup of life Is full to overflowing I H. Pickering. Ah ! who can say, however fair his view Through what sad scenes his path may lie ? Let careless youth its seeming joys pursue, Soon will they learn to scan with thoughtful eye The illusive past and dark futurity. Kirk Whit* 60 CAUSE - CAUTION - CELIBACY . I do not starve? not yet, not yet : But wait to-morrow ! Famine will be here. In the mean time, we've still grim Care — (whose tooth Is like the tiger's — sharp,) lest dreams should fall, And shadow us with sweet forgetfulncss. Barry Cornwall. CAUSE. Circumstance must make it probable Whether the cause's justness may command Th' attendance of success : For an attempt That's warranted by justice, cannot want A prosperous end. Nabb's Hannibal and Scipio. Justness of cause is nothing, When tilings are risen to the point they arc : ? Tis either not examin'd or believ'd Among the warlike. Suckling's Brennoralt. This is a cause which our ambition fills ; A cause, in which our strength we should not waste In vain, like giants, who did heave at hills ; 'T is too unwieldy for the force of haste. Sir W. Davenanfs Gondibert. Small are the seeds fate does unheeded sow Of slight beginnings to important ends ; Whilst wonder, which does best our rev'rencc show To heav'n, all reason's sight in gazing spends. Sir W. Davenanfs Gondibert. CAUTION. But now so wise and wary was the knight By triall of his former harms and cares, That he descry'd, and shunned still his slight : The fish, that once was caught, new bait will hardly bite. Spenser's Fairy Queen. Who 'scapes the snare Once, has a certain caution to beware. Chapman's Revenge for Honour. They that fear the adder's sting, will not come Near his hissing. Chapman's Widow's Tears. None pities him that's in the snare, And warn'd before, would not beware. Herrick. The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure ; but modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To the bottom of the worst. Shaks. TroL and Cres. It seems it is as proper to our age * To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions, As it is common for the younger sort To lack discretion. Shaks. Hamlet. When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks ; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand ; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night ? Untimely storms make men expect a dearth : All may be well ; but if God sort it so, 'T is more than we deserve, or I expect. SJiaks. RicJiard III Be advis'd ; Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it doth singe yourself; we may outrun, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Know you not, The fire, that mounts the liquor till it run o'er, In seeming to augment it, wastes it ? Be advis'd. Sliaka. Henry VIII. Trust none ; For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer cakes, And hold-fast is the only dog. Shaks. Henry V. Man's caution often into danger turns, And his guard falling, crushes him to death. Young's Night Thoughts He knows the compass, sail, and oar, Or never launches from the shore ; Before he builds, computes the cost, And in no proud pursuit is lost Gay's Fables. All 's to be fear'd where all is to be lost. Byron. Let no man know thy business save some friend, A man of mind. Bailey. CELIBACY. But earlier is the rose distill'd, Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. Shakspeare Lady, you are the crudest she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave no copy. Shaksprare, Most women's weak resolves, like reeds, will fly, Shane with each breath, and bend with every bigh ; Mine, like an oak whose firm roots deep descend, Nor breath of love can shake, nor sigh can bend Ga. t CEREMONY - CHALLENGE - CHANGE. 01 If I am fair, 't is for myself alone ; I do not wish to have a sweetheart near me, Nor would I call another's heart my own, Nor have a gallant lover to revere me ; For surely I would plight my faith to none, Though many an amorous wit might jump to hear me ; For I have heard that lovers prove deceivers, When once they find that maidens are believers. From Michel Angelo. From her lone path she never turns aside, Though passionate worshippers before her fall ; Like some pure planet in her lonely pride, She seems to soar and beam above them all ! Mrs. Welly. And thus she wanders on — half sad, half blest — Without a mate for the pure lonely heart, That, yearning, throbs within her virgin breast, Never to find its lovely counterpart. Mrs. Welby. I y m an old maid! — and though I suffer by it I Must change my style, and leave off gay society. Willis. O many a summer's morning glow Has lent the rose its ray, And many a winter's drifting snow Has swept its bloom away; But she has kept the faithless pledge To this, her winter hour, And keeps it still, herself alone, And wasted like the flower. O. W. Holmes. CEREMONY. Ceremony was but devis'd at first, To set a gloss on faint deeds, — hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry e'er 'tis shown ; But where there is true friendship, there needs none. Shaks. Timon. And what art thou, thou idol, ceremony ? What kind of god art thou ? that suffer est more Of mortal griefs than do tby worshippers. What are thy rents ? What are thy comings in ? O ceremony, show me but thy worth : What is thy toll, O adoration ? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men ? Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd, Than they in fearing. What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison'd flattery ? O be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure. Shaks. Henry V. Then ceremony leads her bigots forth, Prepar'd to fight for shadows of no worth ; While truths, on which eternal things aepend Find not, or hardly find, a single friend : As soldiers watch the signal of command, They learn to bow, to kneel, to sit, to stand ; Happy to fill religion's vacant place With hollow form, and gesture and grimace. Cowper It was withal a highly polished age, And scrupulous in ceremonious rite, When stranger stranger met upon the way, First each to other bowed respectfully, And large professions made of humble service. Pollock CHALLENGE. I never in my life Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly, Unless a brother should a brother dare To gentle exercise and proof of arms. Shaks. Henry IV Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak, My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my divine soul answer it in heaven : Thou art a traitor and a miscreant. Shaks. Richard II CHANGE. Weep not that the world changes — did it keep A stable, changeless course, 'twere cause to weep. Bryant Not in vain the distance beckons, Forward, forward let us range; Let the peoples spin for ever Down the ringing grooves of change. Tennyson. I ask not what change Has come over thy heart, I seek not what chances Have doomed us to part; I know thou hast told me To love thee no more, And I still must obey Where I once did adore. Hoffman In bower and garden rich and rare There's many a cherish'd flower, Whose beauty fades, whose fragrance flits Within the flitting hour. Not so the simple forest leaf, Unprized, unnoticed, lying — 6 02 CHARACTER. The same through all its little life — It changes but in dying. Be such, and only such, my friends ; Once mine, and mine for ever ; And here 's a hand to clasp in theirs, That shall desert them never. And thou be such, my gentle love, Time, chance, the world defying ; And take, 'tis all I have, a heart That changes but in dying. G. W. Doane. Ah ! if a fairy's magic might were mine, I 'd joy to change with each new wish of thine ; Nothing to all the world beside I 'd be, And everything thou lovest in turn to thee. Mrs. Osgood. CHARACTER. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse, steals trash ; 't is something, nothing, 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name, Robs me of that, which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. SJiaks. Othello. Gnats are unnoticed wheresoe'er they fly, But eagles gazed upon by every eye. Shakspeare. Stand free and fast, And judge him by no more than what you know Ingenuously, and by the right laid line Of truth, he truly will all styles deserve, Of wise, good, just; a man both soul and nerve. Shirley's Admiral of France. She can 't be parallel'd by art, much less By nature : she 'd battle painters to decypher Her exactly, as bad as agues puzzle doctors. Robert Neville's Poor Scholar. As through the hedgerows' shade the violet steals, And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals, Her softer charms, but by their influence known, Surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own. Rogers. Though gay as mirth, as curious thoughts sedate ; As elegance polite, as power elate ; Profound as reason, and as justice clear ; Soft as compassion, yet as truth severe. Savage. With moie capacity for love than earth itestovrd on most of mortal mould and birth, His earlv dreams of good out-stripped the truth, And troubled manhood followed baffled youth. Byron. The eye of the hale one, With joy in its gleam, Looks up in the noontide, And steals from the beam ; But the cheek of the pale one Is marked with despair, To feel itself fading, When all is so fair. Eliza Cook Bespeak the man who acted out the whole — The whole of all he knew of high and true. Hoffman, Though looks and words, By the strong mastery of his practised will, Are overruled, the mounting blood betrays An impulse in its secret spring, too deep For his control. Southey And though, as you have said, the vernal bloom Of his first spirits fading, leaves him changed — 'T is not to worse. His mind is as a meadow Of various grasses, rich and fresh beneath, But o'er the surface some that come to seed Have cast a colour of sobriety. Taylor's Edwin. His talk is like a stream which runs With rapid change from rocks to roses ; He slips from politics to puns, Passes from Mahomet to Moses ; Beginning with the laws that keep The planets in their radiant courses, And ending with some precept deep For dressing eels or shoeing horses. Praed—The Vicar It is not mirth, for mirth she is too still ; It is not wit, which leaves the heart more chill, But that continuous sweetness, which with ease Pleases all round it from the wish to please. The New Timon Those who see thee in thy full-blown pride, Know little of affections crushed within, And wrongs which frenzy thee. Talfourd's *on. She was the pride Of her familiar sphere — the daily joy Of all who on her gracefulness might gaze, And in the light and music of her way Have a companion's portion. Willis'' Poems. The angels sang in heaven when she was burn. Longfeilow. Devoted, anxious, generous, void of guile, And with her whole heart's welcome in her ssaile Mrs. Norton CHARITY. 63 A gentle maiden, whose large, loving eyes Enshrine a tender, melancholy light, Like the soft radiance of the starry skies, Or autumn sunshine, mellow'd when most bright; She is not sad, yet in her gaze appears Something that makes the gazer think of tears. Mrs. Embury. She has a glowing heart, they say, Though calm her seeming be ; And oft that warm heart's lovely play Upon her cheek I see. Mrs. Osgood. Though time her bloom is stealing, There's still beyond his art — The wild flower wreath of feeling, The sunbeam of the heart HaUech Bold in the cause of God he stood Like Templar in the Holy Land; And never knight of princely blood In lady's bower more bland. Mrs. Hale. His high broad forehead, marble fair, Told of the power of thought within ; And strength was in his raven hair — But when he smiled a spell was there That more than strength or power could win. Mrs. Hale's Vigil of Love. CHARITY. Good is no good, but if it be spend ; God giveth good for none other end. Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar. Charity ever Finds in the act reward, and needs no trumpet In the receiver. Beaumont and Fletcher's Sea Voyage. It was sufficient that his wants were known, True charity makes others' wants their own. Robert Dauborne's Poor Man's Comfort. For true charity Though ne'er so secret finds a just reward. May's Old Couple. For his bounty, There was no winter in 't ; an autumn 't was That grew the more by reaping. Shaks. Ant. and Cleo. Nothing truly can be term'd mine own But what I make mine own by using well. Those deeds of charity which we have done Shall stay for ever with us : and that wealth Which we have so bestow'd, we only keep ; The other is not ours. Middleton. 'Mongst all your virtues I see not charity written, which some cal 1 The first-born of religion ; and I wonder, I cannot sec it in yours. Believe it, sir, There is no virtue can be sooner miss'd, Or later welcom'd ; it begins the rest, And sets them all in order. Middleton Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel ; That thou may'st shake the superfiux to them, And show the heavens more just. Shaks. Lear Think not, the good, The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done, Shall die forgotten all ; the poor, the pris'ner, The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow, Who daily own the bounty of thy hand, Shall cry to heav'n, and pull a blessing on thee. Howe's Jane Shore, How few, like thee, inquire the wretched out, And court the offices of soft humanity ! Like thee, reserve their raiment for the naked, Reach out their bread to feed the crying orphan, Or mis the pitying tears with those that s.-eep ! Howe's Jane Shore. Great minds, like heaven, are pleas'd in doing good, Though the ungrateful subjects of their favours Are barren in return. Howe's Tamerlane, The secret pleasure of a generous act Is the great mind's great bribe. Dryden's Don Sebastian. Is there a variance ? enter but his door, Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more. Despairing quacks with curses left the place, And vile attorneys, now an useless race. Pope's Moral Essays. In faith and hope the world will disagree, But all mankind's concern is charity : All must be false that thwart this one great end ; And all of God, that bless mankind, or mend. Pope's Essay on Man. Self-love thus push'd to social, — to divine, Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine. Is this too little for the boundless heart ? Extend it — let thy enemies have part, Grasp the whole worlds of reason, life and sense, In one close system of benevolence : Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree And height of bliss but height of chanty. Pope's Essay ov Mat* »4 CHARITY. The generous pride of virtue, Disdains to weigh too nicely the returns Hci bounty meets with — like the liberal gods, From her own gracious nature she bestows, Nor stops to ask reward. Thomson's Coriolanus. Hut to the generous still-improving mind, That gives the hopeless heart to sing for joy, Diffusing kind beneficence around, Boastlcss, as now descends the silent dew ; To him the long review of order'd life, Is inward rapture, only to be felt. Thomson's Seasons. The truly generous is the truly wise ; And he who loves not others, lives unblest. Home's Douglas. His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wanderings but reliev'd their pain : The long-remember'd beggar was his guest, Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd. Goldsmith's Deserted Village. Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Goldsmith's Deserted Village. There are, while human miseries abound, A thousand ways to waste superfluous wealth, Without one fool or flatterer at our board, Without one hour of sickness or disgust. Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health, Pure in her aim, and hi her temper mild, Her wisdom seems the weakness of a child : She makes excuses where she might condemn, Revil'd by those that hate her, prays for them ; Suspicion lurks not in her artless breast, The worst suggested, she believes the best ; Not soon provok'd, however stung and teas'd, And, if perhaps made angry, soon appeas'd ; She rather waves than will dispute her right, And injur'd makes forgiveness her delight. Coioper's Chanty. True charity, a plant divinely nurs'd, Fed by the love, from which it rose at first, Thrives against hope, and in the rudest scene, Storms but enliven its unfading green ; Exuberant is the shadow it supplies, lis fruit on earth, its growth above the skies. Cowper's Cliarity. L>id charity prevail, the press would prove A veuicle of virtue, truth, and love. Cowper's Chanty. I mean the man, who when the distant poor Need help, denies them nothing but his name. Cowper's Task. Far may we search before we find A heart so manly or so kind. But not around his honour'd urn, Shall friends alone and kindred mourn; The thousand eyes his care had dried, Pour at his name a bitter tide ; And frequent falls the grateful dew, For benefits the world ne'er knew. Scott's Marmion The drying up a single tear has more Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore. Byron's Don Juan, And — not from piety but pride, Gives wealth to walls that never heard Of his own holy vow or word. Byron's Giaour. To the blind, the deaf, the lame, To the ignorant, and vile, Stranger, captive, slave, he came, With a welcome and a smile. Help to all he did dispense, Gold, instruction, raiment, food ; Like the gifts of Providence, To the evil and the good. James Montgomery. Amid all life's quests There seems but worthy one — to do men good. Bailty. A poor man serv'd by thee, shall make thee rich. Miss Barrett O, rich man's son ! there is a toil, That with all others level stands ; Large charity doth never soil, But only whitens soft white hands ; — This is the best crop for thy lands ; A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being rich to hold in fee. J. R. Lowell. When poverty, with mien of shame, The sense of pity seeks to touch, — Or, bolder, makes the simple claim That, I have nothing, you have much, — Believe not either man or book, That bids you close the opening hand, And with reproving speech and look, Your first and free intent withstand. R. M. Wines. Why not believe the homely letter That all you give will God restore ? The poor man may deserve it better, And surely, surely wants it more ; CHASTITY - CHEERFULNESS. to Cet but the rich man do his part, And whatsoe'er the issue be, To those who ask, his answering heart Will gain and grow in sympathy. R. M Mines. rhen gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman, Though both may gang a kennie wrang, To step aside is human. Burns. Cast not the clouded gem away, Quench not the dim but living ray — ~tty brother man, beware ! With that deep voice, which from the skies, Forbade the Patriarch's sacrifice, God's angel cries, Forbear ! WMttier. Still to a stricken brother true, Whatever clime hath nurtur'd him ; He stoop'd to heal the wounded Jew, The worshipper of Gcrizim. WMttier. But by all thy nature's weakness, Hidden faults and follies known, Be thou, in rebuking evil, Conscious of thine own. Whittier. And when religious sects ran mad, He held, in spite of all his learning, That if a man's belief is bad, It will not be improv'd by burning. Praed. As the rivers, farthest flowing, In the highest hills have birth ; As the banyan, broadest growing, Oftenest bows its head to earth, — So the noblest minds press onward, Channels far of good to trace ; So the largest hearts bend downward, Circling all the human race. Mrs. Hale CHASTITY. The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die ; But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity ; For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds ; Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds. tShakspeare. Chaste as the icicle That's curdled by the frost of purest snow, And hargs on Dian's temple. Shalspeare. E Thou, my love, art sweeter far than balmy Incense in tho purple smoke ; pure and Unspotted as the cleanly ermine, ere The hunter sullies her with his pursuit; Soft as her skin ; chaste as th' Arabian bird That wants a sex to woo, or as the dead, That are divore'd from warmth, from objects, And from thought. Sir W. Davenanfs Platonic Lovers. So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liv'ry'd angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt. Milton's Comus. Oh ! she is colder than the mountain's snow. To such a subtile purity she 's wrought, She 's pray'd and fasted to a walking thought : She 's an enchanted feast, most fair to sight, And starves the appetite she does invite ; Flies from the touch of sense, and if you dare To name but love she vanishes to air. Crown's Destruction of Jerusalem. In thy fair brow there 's such a legend writ Of chastity, as blinds the adulterous eye : Not the mountain ice, Congeal'd to crystals, is so frosty chaste, As thy victorious soul, which conquers man, And man's proud tyrant-passion. Dryden's Albion and Albanus. When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy ? What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, And hide her shame from every eye, And give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom is — to die. Goldsmith. Beneath the cares of earth she does not bow, Though she hath ofttimes drain'd its bitter cup ; But ever wanders on with heavenward brow, And eyes whose lovely orbs are lifted up ! Mrs. Welly. CHEERFULNESS. And her against sweet cheerfulness was placed, Whose eyes like twinkling stars in evening cletu Were deck't with smyles, that all sad humour* chased, And darted forth delights, the which her goodly graced. Spenser's Fairy Queen Cheerful looks make every dish a feast, And 't is that c owns a welcome. Massing** 6* M CHILDHOOD AND CHILDREN. Let me play the fool : With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? Shaks. Merchant of Venice. What then remains but well our power to use, And keep good humour still, whate'er we lose ? And trust me, dear, good humour can prevail, Alien airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail ; Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll ; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul. Pope's Rape of the Lock. Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play, Belinda smil'd and all the world was gay. Pope's Rape of the Loch. When cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulders flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew ; Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung. Collinses Passions. Thus without share in coin or land, But well content to hold 'Hie wealth of nature in my hand, One flail of virgin gold, — My love above me like a sun, — My own bright thoughts my wings,— Through life I trust to flutter on As gay as aught that sings. R. M. Milnes. Were it not worse than vain to close our eyes Unto the azure sky and golden light, Because the tempest cloud doth sometimes rise, And glorious day must darken into night ? Douglas JeroloVs Magazine. A sweet heart-lifting cheerfulness, LiKe spring-time of the year, Seem'd ever on her steps to wait. Mrs. Hale's Alice Ray. Tne seasons all had charms for her, — She welcom'd each with joy; The charm that in her spirit liv'd No changes could destroy. Mrs. Hale. CHILDHOOD AND CHILDREN. rhe whining schoolboy with his satchel, AjuI shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. Shaks. As you like it. At first, the infant, Mewling and pulling in the nurse's arms. SJiaks. As you like it, Behold, my lords, Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father: eye, nose, lip, The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the valley, Tho pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his smiles ; The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger. Shaks. Winter Tale. The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, Which, mellowed by the stealing hours of time, Will well become the seat of majesty, And make no doubt us happy by his reign Shaks. Richard III Hath he set bounds between their love and me ? I am their mother, who shall bar me from them 'j Shaks. Richard III O 't is a parlous boy ; Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable ; He's all the mother's from the top to toe. Shaks. Richard III Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face ; These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his . This little abstract doth contain that large, Which died in Geffrey : and the hand of time, Shall draw this brief unto as large a volume. Shaks. King John. Father Cardinal, I have heard you say, That we shall see and know our friends in heaven : If that be true, I shall see my boy again ; For since the birth of Cain, the first male-child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born. Shaks. King John. O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ; My life, my joy, my soul, my all the world ; My widow's comfort, and my sorrow's care. Shaks. King John. The poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, The young ones in her nest against the owl. Shaks. Macbeth Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricots, Which, like unruly children make their siro Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight. Shaks. Richard. 11 Children blessings seem, but torments are, When young our folly, and when old our fear Otway's Don Carlos M # : CHILDHOOD AND CHILDREN. 67 Crying they creep among us like young cats. Cares and continual crosses keeping with them, They make time old to tend them, and experience An ass, they alter so ; they grow and goodly Ere we can turn our thoughts, like drops of water They fall into the main, are known no more. Beaumont and Fletcher's Mad Lover. What benefit can children be But charges and disobedience? what's the Love they render at one and twenty years ? I pray die, father : when they are young, they Are like bells rung backwards, nothing but noise And giddiness. Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money. Look here and weep with tenderness and transport ! What is all tasteless luxury to this ? To these best joys, which holy love bestows ? Oh nature, parent nature, thou alone Art the true judge of what can make us happy. Thomson's Agamemnon. O what passions then, What melting sentiments of kindly care, On the new parents seize. Thomson's Seasons. Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, And mingles both their graces. By degrees, The human blossom blows ; and every day, Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, The father's lustre, and the mother's bloom. Thomson's Seasons. Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot, To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe the enlivening spirit and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast ! Thomson's Seasons. Thanks to the gods, my boy has done his duty ! — Portius, when I am dead, be sure you place His urn near mine. Addison's Cato. Self-flattered, unexperienced, high in hope, When young, with sanguine cheer, and streamers gay, We cut our cable, launch into the world, And fondly dream each wind and star our friend. Young's Night Thoughts. Why was my prayer accepted ? why did heav'n fn anger hear me, when I ask'd a son ? Hannah More's Moses. Then gathering round his bed, they climb to share His kisses, and with gentle violence there, Break in upon a dream not half so fair. Rogers's Human Life. The hour arrives, the moment wish'd and fear'd ■ The child is born by many a pang endear'd, And now the mother's ear has caught his cry ; O grant the cherub to her asking eye ! He comes — she clasps him. To her bosom press'd He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest. Rogers's Human Life. When heaven and angels, earth and earthly thing* Do leave the guilty in thoir guiltiness — A cherub's voice doth whisper in a child's There is a shrine within thy little heart Where I will hide, nor hear the trump of doom. Maturin's Bertram. Thou art my daughter — never lov'd as now — Thou mountain maid, — thou child of liberty ! Urilda ! well from Uri's height I nam'd thee, Free as its breezes, — purer than its snows ! Maturin's Fredolfo. Lo ! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps, Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps ; She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies, Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes, And weaves a song of melancholy joy — " Sleep, image of thy father, sleep my boy ; No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine ; No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine ; Bright as his manly sire, the sun shall be, In form and soul ; but ah ! more bless'd than he Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last, Shall soothe his aching heart for all the past, With many a smile my solitude repay, And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away." Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. He smiles and sleeps ! — sleep on And smile, thou little young inheritor Of a world scarce less young : sleep on and smile . Thine are the hours and days when both are cheering And innocent. Byron's Cain. Look ! how he laughs and stretches out his arms, And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine, To hail his father ; while his little form Flutters as wing'd with joy. Talk not of pain ! The childless cherubs well might envy thee The pleasures of a parent 1 Bless him, Cain ! As yet he hath no words to thank thee, but His heart will, and thine too. Byron's Cain Sweet be thy cradled slumbers ! O'er the sea, And from the mountains where I now respire. Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee, As, with a sigh, I deem thou might'st have been to me. Byron' Childe Haroid OS childhood. To aid thy mU J s development — to watch Thy dawn of little joys — to sit and see Almost thy very growth — to view thee catch Knowledge of objects — wonders yet to thee ! To hold thee lightly on a gentle kneo, And print on thy soft check a parent's kiss — This, it should seem, was not reserv'd for me ! Yet this was in my nature : — as it is, I know not what is there, yet something like to this. Byron's Childe Harold. But thou wilt burst this transient sleep, And thou wilt wake, my babe, to weep ; The tenant of a frail abode, Thy tears must flow as mine have flow'd : Bcguil'd by follies every day, Sorrow must wash the faults away, And thou may'st wake, perchance to prove The pang of unrequited love. Byron to his Daughter. Yet a fine family is a fine thing, (Provided they don't come in after dinner;) 'Tis beautiful to see a matron bring Her children up (if nursing them don't thin her.) Byron's Don Juan. Heaven lies about us in our infancy. Wordsworth. The young ! Oh, what should wondering fancy bring, In life's first spring-time, but the thought of spring ! Mrs. Norton. And thou, my boy ! that silent at my knee Dost lift to mine thy soft, dark, earnest eyes, Fill'd with the love of childhood. — Mine own ! whose feelings fresh before me rise ; Is it not much that I may guide thy prayer, And circle thy glad soul with free and healthful air? Mrs. Hemans. Thou art looking now at the birds, Genie, But oh, do not wish their wing ; That would tempt the fowler, Genie, — Stay thou on earth and sing. Stay in the nursing nest, Genie, Be not soon thence bcguil'd ; Thou wilt ne'er find a second, Genie, Never be twice a child. Miss Jemsbury. Oh ! dear to memory are those hours When every pathway led to flowers; When sticks of peppermint possess'd A sc eptre's power to sway the breast, And heaven was round us while we fed On *lch ambrosial gingerbread. Eliza Cook. —Slow pass our days in childhood, — Every day seems like a century. Bryant. Ah ! well may sages bow to thee, Dear, loving, guileless Infancy ! And sigh beside their lofty lore For one untaught delight of thine, And feel they 'd give their learning's store To know again thy truth divine. Mrs. Osgood. 'Tis the work Of many a dark hour, and of many a prayer To bring the heart back from an infant gone. Willi* The history of Paradise To Woman's faith is clear, For happy childhood ever brings The Eden vision near ; The vision when the earth was sway'd By Innocence and Love, That summon'd with an equal trust The tiger or the dove. Mrs. Hale. It lay upon its mother's breast, a thing Bright as a dew-drop when it first descends, Or as the plumage of an angel's wing, Where every tint of rainbow beauty blends. Mrs. Welfy 'Tis a} T e a solemn thing to me To look upon a babe that sleeps — Wearing in its spirit-deeps The unrevealed mystery Of its Adam's taint and woe, Which, when they revealed lie, Will not let it slumber so. Miss Barrett And yet we check and chide The airy angels as they float about us, With rules of so-call'd wisdom, till they grow The same tame slaves to custom and the world. Mis. Osgood I know he 's coming by this sign, That baby 's almost wild ; See how he laughs and crows and starts — Heaven bless the merry child ! He's father's self in face and limb, And father's heart is strong in him. Shout, baby, shout ! and clap thy hands, For father on the threshold stands. Mary Howitt Of all the joys that brighten suffering earth, What joy is welcom'd like a new-born child I Mrs. Norton. Sleep, little baby ! sleep ! Not in thy cradle bed, Not on thy mother's breast — But with the quiet dead. Mrs. Southey CHOICE -CHURCH. G9 CHOICE. A. wise man likes that best, that is itself; Not that which only seems, though it look fairer. MiddletorCs Widow. When better cherries are not to be had, We needs must take the seeming best of bad. Daniel. Now this he tastes, then that he glances on, Diversity confounds election. Baron. Election is an act Of will, not voice ; of an internal suffrage, Not outward sound. Tragedy of Cicero. So much to win, so much to lose, No marvel that I fear to choose. Miss Landon. Think not too meanly of thy low estate ; Thou hast a choice ; to choose is to create ! Remember whose the sacred lips that tell, Angels approve thee when thy choice is well ; Use well the freedom which thy Master gave. O. W. Holmes. CHURCH. To kirk the nar, to God more far, Has been an old said saw; And he that strives to touch a star, Oft stumbles at a straw. Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar. You rais'd these hallow'd walls ; the desert smil'd, And paradise was open'd in the wild. No weeping orphan saw his father's stores, Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors ; No silver saints by dying misers given, Here bribe the rage of ill requited heaven ; But such plain roofs as piety could raise, And only vocal with the maker's praise. Pope's Eloisa to Abelard. Here some are thinkin' on their sins, An' some upo' their claes ; Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, Anither sighs an' prays : On this hand sits a chosen swatch, Wi' screw'd up, grace-proud faces : On that, a set o' chaps at watch, Thrang winkin' on the lasses. Burns. Why should we crave a hallow'd spot ? In altar is in each man's cot, V church in every grove that spreads Its living roof above our heads. Wordsworth. What is a church? — Our honest sexton tella 'Tis a tall building, with a tower and bells. Crabbe's Boroug., — Piety first laid A strong foundation, but she wanted aid ; To wealth unwieldy was her prayer address'd, Who largely gave. Crabbt The perfect world, by Adam trod, Was the first Temple — built by God — His fiat laid the corner-stone, And heaved its pillars, one by one. Willis. On other shores, above their mould'ring towns, In sullen pomp the tall cathedral frowns, Pride in its aisles, and paupers at the door, Which feeds the beggars whom it fleeced of yore, Simple and frail, our lowly Temples throw Their slender shadows on the paths below ; Scarce steal the winds, that sweep his woodland tracks, The larch's perfume from the settler's axe, Ere, like a vision of the morning air, His slight framed steeple marks the house of prayer ! O. W. Holmes, But when the sabbath gatherings press, Like armies from the wilderness, 'T is then the dim, old woods afford The sanctuary of the Lord : The Holy Spirit breathes around — That forest glade is sacred ground, Nor Temple built with hands could vie In glory with its majesty. The trees, like living columns rise, Whose tops sustain the bending skies ; And o'er those earnest worshippers God's love, like holy roof is spread, And every leaf the zephyr stirs Some heavenly promise seems to shed. Mrs. Hale Look on this edifice of marble made — How fair it swells too beautiful to fade. See what fine people in its portals crowd* Smiling and greeting, talking, laughing loud ! What is it ! Surely not a gay Exchange Where Wit and Beauty social joys arrange, Not a grand shop where late Parisian styles Attract rich buyers from a thousand miles ? But step within : no need of further search, Behold, admire a fashionable church ! Look how its oriel window glints and gleams, What tinted light magnificently streams On the proud pulpit, carved with quaint devico Where velvet cushions exquisitely nice, Press'd by the polish'd preacher's dainty hands Hold a large volume clasp' d by golden bands Park Beniamm 70 CLERGY AND CHURCHMExN. CLLRGY AND CHURCHMEN. But if thcc list unto the court to throng, And there to hunt after the hoped prey, Then mus', thou thee dispose another way ; For there thou needs must learn to laugh, to lie, To face, to forge, to scoff to company, To cranch, to please to be a beetle-stock Of thy great master's will, to scorn, to mock ; So maist thou chance mark out a benefice, Unless thou canst one conjure by device, Or cast a figure for a bishoprick ; And if one could, it were but a school trick. These be the ways by which without reward, Livings in courts be gotten, though full hard. Spenser's Mother Hubbard's Tale. Their sheep have crusts, and they the bread ; The chips and they the cheer : They have the fleece, and eke the flesh, (O seely sheep the while !) The corn is theirs — let others thresh, Their hands they may not file. Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar. Schoolmen must war with schoolmen, text with text; The first 's the Chaldee's paraphrase ; the next The Septuagint's : opinion thwarts opinion ; The Papist holds then the first, th' last th' Ar- minian ; And then the councils must be call'd t' advise, What this of Lat'ran says, what that of Nice. F. Quarles. Free will 's disputed, consubstantiation, And the deep ocean of predestination, Where, daring venture oft too far into 't, They, Pharaoh like, are drown'd both horse and foot. F. Quarles. My trade is a fine, easy, gainful cheat ; How easy 'tis saintship to counterfeit, And pleasing fables to invent and spread, And fools ne'er find the cheat till they are dead. Crown's English Friar. Make not the church to us an instrument Of bondage, to yourselves of liberty : Obedience there confirms your government , Our sovereigns, God's subalterns, you be. Lord Brooks's Alaham. It never was a prosperous world Since priests have intcrfer'd with temporal matters ; The custom of their ancestors they slight, And change their shirts of hair for robes of gold ; Thus luxury and interest rule the church, WTaWnt piety and conscience dwell in caves. Bancroft's Fall of Mortimer. Hood an ass with rev'rend purple, So you can hide his two ambitious ears, And he shall pass for a cathedral doctor. Jonson's Volponi Love and meekness, lora, Become a churchman better than ambition : Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away. Shales. Henry VIII But you misuse the reverence of your place ; Employ the countenance and grace of heaven, As a favourite doth his prince's name In deeds dishonourable. Shaks. 2d part of Henry IV Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven ; Whilst, like a puff 'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, And recks not his own road. Sixths. Hamlet Babble on, ye priests, amuse mankind With idle tales of flames and torturing fiends, And starry crowns, for patient sufferings here : Yes, gull the crowd, and gain their earthly goods, For feign'd reversions in a heavenly state. W. Shirley's Parricide, Then might you see Cowls, hoods, and habits with their wearers tost And flutter'd into rags ; then reliques, beads, Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls, The sport of winds ; all these upwhirl'd aloft Fly to the rearward of the world far off Into a limbo large and broad, since call'd The paradise of fools. Milton's Paradise Lost, Embryos and idiots, eremites and friars, White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery. Milton's Paradise Lost. Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves, Who all the sacred mysteries of heaven To their own vile advantages shall turn, Of lucre and ambition, and the truth With superstitions and traditions taint. Milton's Paradise Lost. Then shall they seek to avail themselves of names, Places, and titles, and with these to join Secular power, though feigning still to act By spiritual, to themselves appropriating The spirit of God, promis'd alike and given To all believers ; and from that pretense, Spiritual laws by carnal pow'r shall force On every conscience ; laws which none shall find Left them enroll'd, or what the spirit within Shall on the heart engrave. Milton's Paradise Lost CLERGY AND CHURCHMEN. 71 If or this the clergy will still argue on, Deny for pique, assert from prejudice ; Show us the lesson, seldom the example, And preach up laws which they will ne'er ohey. Havard's King Charles I. He could raise scruples dark and nice, \nd after solve 'em in a trice ; As if divinity had catch'd The itch on purpose to be scratch'd. Butler's Hudibraa But preaching v».*a nis chiefest talent, Or argument, in which being valiant, He us'd to lay about and stickle, Like ram or bull at conventicle ; For disputants, like rams and bulls, Do fight with arms that spring from skulls. Butler's Hudibras. Denounc'd and pray'd, with fierce devotion, And bended elbows on the cushion ; Stole from the beggars all their tones, And gifted mortifying groans- : Had lights where better eyes were blind, As pigs are said to see the wind. Butler's Hudibras. For he was of that stubborn crew, Of errant saints, whom all men grant To be the true church militant ; Such as do build their faith upon The holy text of pike and gun; Decide all controversies by Infallible artillery ; And pro\e their doctrine orthodox By apostolic blows and knocks. Butler's Hudibras. What makes a church a den of thieves ? A dean and chapter, and white sleeves. Butler's Hudibras. Is 't not ridiculous, and nonsense, A saint should be a slave to conscience, That ought to be above such fancies, As far as above ordinances ? Butler's Hudbiras. The godly may allege, For any thing their privilege ; And to the devil himself may go, If they have motives thereunto, For, as there is a war between The devil and them, it is no sin, If they by subtle stratagem Make use of him, as he does them. Butler's Hudibras. For saints may do the same things by The spirit, in sincerity, Which other men are tempted to, And at the devil's instance do : And yet the actions be contrary, Just as the saints and wicked vary. Butler's Hudibraa You want to lead My reason blindfold like a hamper'd lion, Check'd of his noble vigour: then, when baited Down to obedient tameness, may it couch, And show strange tricks, which you call signs o' faith : So silly souls are gull'd, and you get money ! Otway's Venice Preserved Is not the care of souls a load sufficient ? Are not your holy stipends paid for this ? Were you not bred apart from worldly noise To study souls, their cures, and their diseases ? The province of the soul is large enough To fill up every cranny of your time, And leave you much to answer, if one wretch Be damn'd by your neglect. Dry den's Don Sebastim I tell thee, Mufti, if the world were wise, They would not wag one finger in thy quarrels : Your heav'n you promise, but our earth you covet ; The Phaetons of mankind, who fire that world Which you were sent, by preaching but to warm. Dryden's Don Sebastian Bloated with ambition, pride and avarice, You swell to counsel kings and govern kingdoms, Content you with monopolizing heav'n, And let this little hanging ball alone : For give you but a foot of conscience there, And you, like Archimedes, top the globe. Dryden's Don Sebastian. I met a reverend, fat, old, gouty friar, With a paunch swoll'n so high, his double chin Might rest upon 't : a true son of the church ! Fresh-colour'd and well-thriving on his trade. Dryden's Spanish Fair. Priesthood, that makes a merchandise of Heav'n ! Priesthood, that sells ev'n to their pray'rs and blessings, And force us to pay for our own cos'nage. Dryden's Troilus and Cressida. The proud he tam'd, the penitent he cheer'd : Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd. His preaching much, but more his practice wrought, (A living sermon of the truths he taught,) For this by rules severe his life he squar'd • That all might see the doctrine which they heard Dryden's Character of a Good Farbun A fox, full fraught with seeming sanctity, That fear'd an oath, but like the devil would ho. Who look'd like lent, and had the holy leer, And durst not sin before he said his prayer. Drydeg 72 CLERGY AND CHURCHMEN. ITis talk wai. now of tythcs and dues ; lie sinok'd his pipe, and read the news ; Knew how to preach old sermons next, Vamp'd in the preface and the text ; At christenings well could act his part, And had the service all by heart ; Wish'd women might have children fast, And thought whose sow had farrow'd last; Against dissenters would repine, And stood up firm for right divine ; Found his head fill'd with many a system, Put classic authors — he ne'er miss'd 'em. Swift's Baucis and Philemon. If such dinners you give, You '11 ne'er want for parsons as long as you live : I ne'er knew a parson without a good nose, But the devil's as welcome wherever he goes. Swift. Why seek we truth from priests ? The smiles of courtiers, and the harlot's tears, The tradesman's cath, and mourning of an heir, Are truths to what priests tell ! Oil why has priesthood privilege to lie ! And yet to be believed ? Zee's CEdipus. If we must pray, Rear in the streets bright altars to the gods, Let virgin's hands adorn the sacrifice ; And not a grey-beard forging priest come here, To pry into the bowels of their victim, And with their dotage mad the gaping world. Lee's CEdipus. Ill befall Such meddhiig priests, wh^ kindle up confusion, And vex the quiet world with their vain scruples ; By heav'n 't is done in perfect spite of peace. Route's Jane Shore. Others of graver mien, behold, adorn'd With holy ensigns, how sublime they move, And bending oft their sanctimonious eyes, Take homage of the simple-minded throng ; Ambassadors of heaven ! Akenside's Pleasures of Imagination. 1*1 ear yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd, And still where many a garden flower grows wild, There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, Aid passing rich with forty pounds a year ; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had chang'd nor wish'd to change his place; Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour ; bar other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, •vlore bent to raise the wretched than to rise. Goldsmith's Deserted Village. At church with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. Goldsmith's Deserted Village Ev*n children followed with endearing wde And pluck'd his gown to share the good man's smile. Goldsmiths Deserted Village. Or prophecy, which dreams a lie, That fools believe, and knaves apply. Green's Grotto Of right and wrong he taught Truths as refined as ever Athens heard ; And (strange to tell !) he practised what he preach'd. Armstrong 's Art of Preserving Health. The royal letters are a thing of course, A king, that would, might recommend his horse ; And deans, no doubt, and chapters with one voice, As bound in duty, would confirm the choice. Behold your bishop ! — well he plays his part, Christian in name, and infidel in heart, Ghostly in office, earthly in his plan, A slave at court, elsewhere a lady's man. Dumb as a senator, and as a priest ; A piece of mere church-furniture at best. Cowper's Tirocinium Your lordship and your grace, what schools can teach A rhetoric equal to those parts of speech ? What need of Homer's verse, or Tully's prose, Sweet interjections ! if he learn but those : Let reverend churls his ignorance rebuke Who starve upon a dog's-ear'd Pentateuch, The parson knows enough who knows a duke. Cowper's Tirocinium. In man or woman, but far most in man, And most of all in man that ministers And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn; Object of my implacable disgust. Cowper's Task Behold the picture ! Is it like ? Like whom ? The things that mount the ro trum with a skip And then skip down again. Pronounce a text, Cry hem ; and reading what they never wrote, Just fifteen minutes huddle up their work, And with a well-bred whisper close the scene. Cowper's Task From such apostles, oh ye mitred neads, Preserve the church ; and lay not cai eless hands On skulls that cannot teach, and will not learn. (fowper's Task CHURCH-YARD. 73 I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whoae jfe Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause. Comperes Task. He that negotiates between God and man, As God's ambassador, the grand concerns Of judgment and of mercy, should beware Of lightness in his speech. 'Tis pitiful To court a grin, when you should woo a soul ; To break a jest, when pity would inspire Pathetic exhortation ; and address The skittish fancy with facetious tales, When sent with God's commission to the heart. Cowper's Task. Church ladders are not always mounted best, By learned clerks, and Latinists profess'd Cowper. Learn three-mile pray'rs, an' half-mile graces, Wi' weel-spread looves, an' lang, wry faces ; Grunt up a solemn, lengthen'd groan, And damn a' parties but your own ; I '11 warrant then ye 're nae deceiver, A steady, sturdy, staunch believer. Burns. Hear how he clears the points o' faith Wi' rattlin an' thumpin ! Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, He 's stampin, an' he 's jumpin I Burns's Holy Friar. Haughty of heart and brow the warrior came, In look and language proud as proud could be, Vaunting his lordship, lineage, fights and fame ; Yet was that bare-foot monk more proud than he. ScoWs Vision of Don Roderick. Such vast impressions did his sermons make, He always kept his flock awake. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar. In short, no dray-horse ever work'd so hard, From vaults to drag up hogshead, tun, or pipe, As this good priest, to drag, for small reward, The souls of sinners from the devil's gripe. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar. Did gentlemen of fortune die, And leave the church a good round sum ; Lo ! in the twinkling of an eye, The parson frank' d their souls to kingdom come. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar. Whate'er t may have been, or am, doth rest between Heaven and myself— I shall not choose a mortal 'To be my mediator. Byron's Manfred. Around his form his loose long robe was thrown , And wrapp'd a breast bestow'd on heaven alone. Byron's Corsair Father! thy days hare pass'd in peace, 'Mid counted beads, and countless prayer. To bid the sins of others cease, Thyself without a crime or care, Save transient ills that all must bear, Has been thy lot, from youth to age. Byron 1 8 Giaour Dark and unearthly is the scowl, That glares beneath his dusky cowl — The flash of that dilating eye Reveals too much of times gone by. Byron's Giaour. But the unfaithful Priest, what tongue Enough shall execrate ? Pollock. " What is a Church ?" Let truth and reason speak ; They should reply — "The faithful, pure, and meek, From Christian folds, the one selected race, Of all professions, and of every place." Crahbe I like a church, I like a cowl, I love a prophet of the soul, And on my heart monastic aisles Fall like sweet strains or pensive smiles, Yet not for all his faith can see, Would I that cowled churchman be. Ralph Waldo Emerson. By the white neck-cloth, with its straiten'd tie, The sober hat, the Sabbath-speaking eye, Severe and smileless, he that runs may read The stern disciple of Geneva's creed. O. W. Holmes. A livelier bearing of the outward man, The light-hued gloves, the undevout rattan, Now smartly rais'd or half-profanely twirl'd, — A bright, fresh twinkle from the week-day world,- Tell their plain story; — yes, thine eyes behold A cheerful Christian from the liberal fold. O. W. Holmes CHURCH-YARD. The solitary, silent, solemn scene, Where Caesars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie, Blended in dust together ; where the slave Rests from his labours ; where th' insulting prouo Resigns his power, the miser drops his board, Where human folly sleeps. Dyer's Ruins of Rome i\ CIRCUMVENTION-CIGAR-CITY AND CITIZENS. Strange tn, rigs, the neighbours say, have happen'd there : Wild shrieks have issued from the hollow tombs, Dead men have come again, and walk'd about; And the great bell has toll'd unrung, untouch'd. Such talcs their cheer at wake or gossipping, Wben it draws near to 'witching time of night. Blair'' s Grave, There lay the warrior and the son of song, And there — in silence till the judgment day — The orator, whose all-persuading tongue Had mov'd the nations with resistless sway. Mrs. Norton, What to us the grave ? It brings no real homily ! we sigh, Pause for awhile and murmur — "All must die !" Then rush to pleasure, action, sin, once more, Swell the loud tide and fret unto the shore. The New Timon. In dim cathedrals, dark with vaulted gloom, What holy awe invests the sacred tomb ! There pride will bow, and anxious care expand, And creeping avarice come with open hand ; The gay can weep, the impious can adore, From morn's first glimmerings on the chancel floor Till dying sunset shed his crimson stains Through the faint halos of the iris'd panes. O. W. Holmes. Yet there are graves, whose rudely shapen sod Bears the fresh footprints where the sexton trod ; Graves where the verdure has not dar'd to shoot, Where the chance wildflower has not fix'd its root, Whose slumbering tenants, dead without a name, The eternal record shall at length proclaim Pure as the holiest in the long array Of hooded, mitred, or tiara'd clay ! O. W. Holmes. CIRCUMVENTION. They must sweep my way, And marshal me to knavery : Let it work — For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer Hoist with his own petard ; and 't shall go hard, But I will delve one yard below their mines, And blow them at the moon. Shahs. Hamlet. This work requires long time, dissembling looks, Commixt with undermining actions, Watching advantages to execute Our foes are mighty, and their number great, It tnerefore follows that our stratagems Must branch forth into manifold deceits, Kndless devices, bottomless conclusions. Chapman's Alphonsus. Bear your wrongs conceal'd, And patient as the tortoise ; let this camel Stalk o'er your back unbruis'd: sleep with tin lion, And let this brood of secure foolish mice Play with your nostrils, till the time be ripe For the bloody audit, and the fatal gripe : Aim like a cunning fowler, close one eye, That you the better may your game espy. Webster's White Devil CIGAR. — (See Smokixg.; CITY AND CITIZENS. These base mechanics never keep their words In any thing they promise. 'T is their trade To swear and break ; they all grow rich by breaking More than their words ; their honesties and credits, Are still the first commodities they put off. Jonson's New Inn. Indeed all our chief living, is by fools And knaves ; we could not keep open shop else : Fools that enter into bands, and knaves bind them. Middleton's Phoenix. The fawning citizen, whose love's bought dearest, Deceives his brother when the sun shines clearest, Gets, borrows, breaks, lets in and stops out light, And lives a knave, to leave his son a knight. Brown's Pastorals. Take heed what you say, sir. An hundred honest men ! why, if there were So many i' th' city, 'twere enough to forfeit Their charter. Shirley's Gamester So merchant has his house in town, And country-seat near Banstead down : From one he dates his foreign letters, Sends out his goods, and duns his debtors ; In t' other, at his hours of leisure, He smokes his pipe, and takes his pleasure. Prior's Alma. Religious, punctual, frugal, and so forth ; His word would pass for more than he was worth. One solid dish his week-day meal afibrds, And added pudding solemniz'd the Lord's; Constant at church and 'change, his gains were sure, His givings rare, save farthings to the poor. Pope's Moral Essays. Or at some banker's desk, like many more, Content to tell that two and two make four, His name had stood in city annals fair, And prudent dulness mark'd him for a mayor. Churchill'e Rosciad CLOUDS. 75 The cit — a common councilman by place, Ten thousand mighty nothings in his face, By situation as by nature great, With nice precision parcels out the state ; Proves and disproves, affirms and then denies, Objects himself, and to himself replies : Wielding aloft the politician's rod, Makes Pitt by turns a devil and a god : Maintains ev'n to the very teeth of pow'r, The same thing right and wrong in half an hour, Now all is well, now he suspects a plot, And plainly proves whatever is — is not : Fearfully wise, he shakes his empty head, And deals out empires as he deals out thread ; His useless scales are in a corner flung, And Europe's balance hangs upon his tongue. ChurchilVs Rosciad. Suburban villas, highway-side retreats, That dread th' encroachment of our growing streets, Tight boxes, neatly sash'd, and in a blaze With all a July's sun's collected rays, Delight the citizen, who gasping there Breathes clouds of dust, and calls it country air. Cowpefs Retirement. I dwell amid the city, And hear the flow of souls ! I do not hear the several contraries I do not hear the separate tone that rolls In art or speech. For pomp or trade, for merrymake or folly, I hear the confluence and sum of each, And that is melancholy ! — Thy voice is a complaint, O crowned city, The blue sky covering thee, like God's great pity. Miss Barrett. Come out, love — the night is enchanting ! The moon hangs just over Broadway ; The stars are all lighted and panting — (Hot weather up there, I dare say !) *T is seldom that " coolness" entices, And love is no better for chilling — Yet come up to Thompson's for ices And cool your warm heart for a shilling 1 JV. P. Willis. How tenderly Rousseau review'd His periwinkles ! Mine are stew'd ! My rose blooms on a gown ! I hunt in vam for eglantine, And find my blue-bell on the sign That marks the Bell and Crown ! Hood. Where are ye, linnet ! lark ! and thrush ! That perch on leafy bough and bush, And tune the various song ? Two hurdy-gurdies, and a poor Street-Handel grinding at my door, Are all my " tuneful throng.'* Hoot CLOUDS. The clouds were touch'd, And in their silent faces could be read Unutterable love. Wordswortk The clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality. Wordsworth There 's not a cloud in that blue plain, But tells of storms to come or past ; — Here, flying loosely as the mane Of a young war-horse in the blast ; — There, roll'd in masses dark and swelling As proud to be the thunder's dwelling. Moore The clouds consign their treasure to the fields, And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow, In large effusion o'er a freshen'd world. Thomson That cloud was beautiful, — was one Among a thousand round the sun : The thousand shared the common lot ; They came, — they went, — they were forgot ; This fairy form alone impress'd Its perfect image in my breast, And shines as richly blazon' d there As in its element of air. J. Montgomery Now a cloud, Massive and black, strides up; the angry gieam Of the red lightning cleaves the frowning folds. StreeVs Poems Wafted up, The stealing cloud with soft grey blinds the sky And in its vapory mantle onward steps The summer shower. Street's Poenu Ye clouds, that are the ornament of heaven , Who give to it its gayest shadowings And its most awful glories ; ye who roll In the dark tempest, or at dewy evening Bow low in tenderest beauty ; — ye are to u» A volume full of wisdom. PercimVs Poem* 7G COMET-COMFORT-COMMONWEALTH-COMPANY-COMPASSION. COMET. Lo ! from the dread immensity of spaco Returning, with accelerated course, The rushing comet to the sun descends : And as he sinks below the shading earth, With awful train projected o'er the heavens, The guilty nations tremble. Thomson's Seasons. Hast thou ne'er seen the comet's flaming flight? Th' illustrious stranger passing, terror sheds On gazing nations, from his fiery train Of length enormous, takes his ample round Through depths of ether ; coasts unnumbcr'd worlds, Of more than solar glory; doubles wide Heaven's mighty cape ; and then revisits earth, From the long travel of a thousand years. Young's Night Thoughts. Lone traveller through the fields of air, What may thy presence here portend ? Art come to greet the planets fair, As friend greets friend ? Whate'er thy purpose, thou dost teach Some lessons to the humble soul ; Though far and dim thy pathway reach, Yet still thy goal Tends to the fountain of that light From whence thy golden beams are won ; So should we turn, from earth's dark night, To God our sun. Mrs. Hale's Poems. COMFORT. What is comfort, When the poor patient's heart is past relief? It is no doctor's art can cure my grief. Middleton. There is a heaven yet to rest my soul on In midst of all unhappiness, which I look on With the same comfort, as a distress'd seaman A far off views the coast he would enjoy, When yet the seas do toss his reeling bark, "Twixt hope and danger. Shirley's Maid's Revenge. How can your griefs Expect comfort from him, who knows not how He can redress his own ? Sir W. Dicvenanis Unfortunate Lover. For in a dearth of comforts, we are taught To be contented with the least. Sir W. Davenant's Fair Favourite. So dying men receive vain comforts From those visitants they love, when they Persuade them to be patient at the loss of life, With saying they are mortal loo, and mean T' endure the like calamity ; as if To die were from good fellowship, from free Intent t' accompany departing friends, When such last courtesy proceeds not from Their will, but nature's obstinate decree. Sir W. Davenant's Fair Favourite* Your comforts Come as in draughts the elemental dew Does on the earth ; it wets, but leaves no moisture To give the sear'd plants growth. Clapthorne's Albertus Wallenstein. Comfort cannot soothe The heart whose life is centred in the thought Of happy loves, once known, and still in hope, Living with a consuming energy. Percival. And should thy comfort with my efforts cease, And only then— -perpetual is thy peace. Crabhe. It is a little thing to speak a phrase Of common comfort, which by daily use Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear Of him who thought to die unmourn'd 't will fall Like choicest music. Talfourd. COMMONWEALTH. We will renew the times of truth and justice, Condensing in a fair free commonwealth Not rash equality, but equal rights, Proportion'd like the columns of the temple. Giving and taking strength reciproca., And making firm the whole with grace and beauty, So that no part could be removed without Infringement of the general symmetry. Byron's Doge of Venice COMPANY.— (See Society.) COMPASSION. — (See Mercy.] COMPLAINT. To tell thy mis'ries will no comfort breed , Men help thee most, that think thou hast no nrv;d, But if the world once thy misfortunes know, Thou soon shalt lose a friend and find a foe. Randdph. COMPLIMENTS-CONCEALMENT-CONCEIT-CONFIDENCE-CONSCIENCE. 77 O say, why age, and grief, and pain, Shall long to ^o, but long in vain ; Why vice is left to mock at time, And, grey in years, grow grey in crime ; While youth, that every eye makes glad, And beauty, all in radiance clad, And goodness, cheering every heart, Come, but come only to depart ; Sunbeams, to cheer life's wintry day — Sunbeams, to flash, then fade away. Sprague. Come, now again thy woes impart, Tell all thy sorrows, all thy sin ; We cannot heal the throbbing heart, Till we discern the wounds within. Crdbhe. And is there none with me to share The glories of the earth and sky ? The eagle through the pathless air Is follow'd by one burning eye. O. W. Holmes. COMPLIMENTS. Banish all compliments, but single truth, From ev'ry tongue, and ev'ry shepherd's heart, Let them use still persuading, but no art. Beaumont and Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess. Treachery oft lurks In compliments. You have sent so many posts Of undertakings, they outride performance ; And make me think your fair pretences aim At some intended ill, which my prevention Must strive to avert. NaWs Tottenham Court. Marry, their wits were not so changeable As their faces, and having but one suit Of compliment, and that not unfashionable, They were fain to supply it with legs and silence. Killegrew's Conspiracy. Wlien stranger stranger met upon the way, First, each to each bow'd most respectfully, And large profession made of humble service, And then the stranger took the other's purse, And he that stabb'd his neighbour to the heart, Stabb'd him politely, and return'd the blade Reeking into its sheath with graceful air. Pollock. CONCEALMENT. — (See Secresy.) CONCEIT. Conceit in weakest bodies, strongest works. Shaks. Hamlet. This self-conceit is a most dangerous shelf, Where many have made shipwreck unawares • He who doth trust too much unto himsclfl Can never fail to fall in many snares. Earl of Sterline's Crassun, A strong conceit is rich ; so most men deem : If not to be, 'tis comfort yet to seem. Marston's Antonio and Mellida Drawn by conceit from reason's plan, How vain is that poor creature, man ! How pleas'd is ev'ry paltry elf To prate about that thing, himself. Churchill CONFIDENCE. Set on your food ; And with a heart new fir'd I follow you, To do I know not w T hat. But it sufneeth, That Brutus leads me on. Shaks. Julius Ccesar I took him for the plainest harmless't creature, That breath'd upoa the earth a Christian ; Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded The history of all my secret thoughts. Shaks. Richard III. Thou know'st how fearless is my trust in thee. Miss London ' Trust in thee V Ay, dearest, there's no one but must, Unless truth be a fable, in such as thee trust ! For who can see heaven's own hue in those eyes, And doubt that truth with it came down from the skies ; While each thought of thy bosom, like morning's young light, Almost ere 'tis born, flashes there on his sight ! C. F. Hoffman* CONSCIENCE. The sweetest cordial we receive at last, Is conscience of our virtuous actions past. Gaffe's Orestes. Conscience ! Poor plodding priests and preaching friars make Their hollow pulpits; and empty aisles Of churches ring with that round word ; but w 3 That draw the subtile and more piercing air In that sublimed region of a court, Know all is good we make so, and go on Secur'd by the prosperity of our enemies, Ben Jorjton 7* 78 CONSCIENCE. When tyrannizing pain shall stop The passage of thy breath, And thee compel to swear thyself, True jervant unto death : Then shall one virtuous deed impart More pleasure to thy mind, Than all the treasures that on earth, Ambitious thoughts can find. The well-spent time of one short day, One hour, one moment then, Shall be more sweet than all the joys Amongst us mortal men. Then shalt thou find but one refuge Which comfort can retain : A guiltless conscience pure and clear From touch of sinful stain. Brandon's Octavia to Antonius. Consider all thy actions, and take heed On stolen bread, tho' it is sweet, to feed Sin, like a bee, unto thy hive may bring A little honey, but expect the sting. Thou may'st conceal thy sin by cunning art, But conscience sits a witness in thy heart ; Which will disturb thy peace, thy rest undo, For that is witness, judge, and prison too. WatJcins. Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe. Shaks. Richard III. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Shaks. Richard III. Oh — I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days : So full of dismal terror was the time. Shaks. Richard III. O, Brackenbury, I have done these things, That now give evidence against my soul. Shales. Richard III. It is a dang'rous Tiling, it makes a man a coward : a man Cannot steal but it accuseth him ; a man Cannot swear, but it checks him. 'Tis a blushing shame-fae'd spirit, that Mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills One full of obstacles. It made me once Restore a purse of gold, that by chance I Found. It beggars any man that keeps it. It is turn'd out of towns and cities for A dang'rous thing ; and every man that means To live well, endeavours to trust to himself, And live without it. Shaks. Richard III. Give me another horse, — bind up my wounda, Have mercy, Jcsu ! — soft; — I did but dream. — O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me !— The lights burn blue. — It is now dead midnight Cold fearful drops stand on my fearful flesh. What do I fear ? myself ? Shaks. Richard III Suspicion haunts the guilty mind ; The thief doth fear each bush an officer. Shaks. Henry VI. Part III What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted : Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. Shaks. Henry VI. Part II Their great guilt, Like poison given to work a great time after, Now 'gins to bite the spirits. Shaks. Tempest. O, it is monstrous ! — monstrous ! Methought, the billows spoke and told me of it ; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronoune'd The name of Prosper. Shaks. Tempest. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all , And thus the native hue of resolution Is sickly'd o'or with the pale cast of thought ; And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awaj T , And lose the name of action. Shaks. Hamlet. Leave her to heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, To prick and sting her. Shaks. Hamlet. O, Hamlet, speak no more : Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ; And there I see such black and grained spots, As will not leave their tinct. Shaks. Hamlet. Foul whisp'rings are abroad ; and unnat'ral deeds Do breed unnat'ral troubles : infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets Shaks. Macbeth. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstacy. Shaks. Macbeth The colour of the king doth come and go Between his purpose and his conscience, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. Shahs. King John CONSCIENCE. 79 I feel within me A. peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. Shales. Henry VIII. He that has light within his own dear breast, May sit i' th' centre, and enjoy bright day : But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts, Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; Himself is his own dungeon. Milton's Comus. But his doom Reserv'd him to more wrath ; for now the thought, Both of lost happiness and lasting pain, Torments him. Milton's Paradise Lost. Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse ; if worse deeds, worse sufferings must ensue. Milton's Paradise Lost. conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me ; out of which 1 find no way, from deep to deeper plung'd. Milton's Paradise Lost. Why should not conscience have vacation As well as other courts o' th' nation ; Have equal power to adjourn, Appoint appearance and return. Butler's Hudihras. What's tender conscience? 'Tis a botch, That will not bear the gentlest touch ; But breaking out despatches more Than the epidemical'st plague-sore. Butler's Hudihras. Here, here it lies ; a lump of lead by day ; And in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers, The hag that rides my dreams. Dryden. 'Tis ever thus With noble minds, if chance they slide to folly ; Remorse stings deeper, and relentless conscience, Pours more of gall into the bitter cup Of their severe repentance. Mason's Elfrida. Some scruple rose, but thus he eas'd his thought, I '11 now give sixpenee where I gave a groat ; Where once I went to church I '11 now go twice, And am so clear too of all other vice. Pope's Moral Essays. See, from behind her secret stand, The sly informer minutes ev'ry fault, And aer dread diary with horror fills. Young's Night Thoughts. Conscience, what art thou? thou tremendous power ! Who dost inhabit us without our leave ; And art within ourselves, another self} A master-self, that loves to domineer, And treat the monarch frankly as the slave How dost thou light a torch to distant deeds 't Make the past, present, and the future frown ? How, ever and anon, awake the soul, As with a peal of thunder, to strange horrors, In this long restless dream, which idiots hug — Nay, wise men flatter with the name of life. Young's Brother* Conscience, and nice scruples Are taxes that abound in none but meagre soils, To choke the aspiring seeds of manly daring : Those puny instincts, which in feeble minds, Unfit for great exploits, are miscall'd virtue. Jephson's Braganza. Knowledge or wealth to few are given, But mark how just the ways of Heaven ; True joy to all is free. Nor wealth nor knowledge grant the boon, 'Tis thine, O conscience, thine alone, It all belongs to thee. Micik. Thus oft it haps, that when within, They shrink at sense of secret sin, A feather daunts the brave ; A fool's wild speech confounds the wise, And proudest princes veil their eyes, Before their meanest slave. Scotfs Marmion, Oh ! conscience ! conscience ! man's most faithful friend, Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend : But if he will thy friendly checks forego, Thou art, oh ! woe for me, his deadliest foe ! Crahhe There is no future pang Can deal that justice on the self-condemn'd He deals on his own soul. Byron's Manfred. Though thy slumber may be deep, Yet thy spirit shall not sleep, There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish Byron's Manjrea. Yet still there whispers the small voice within. Heard through God's silence, and o'er glory's diu Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, Man's conscience is the oracle of God ! Byron's Island 80 CONSPIRACY. Though I know not With peace of conscience, like to innocent men. That I do wrong, I feci a thousand fears Massmger Which arc not ominous of right. Trust me, no tortures which the poets feign Byron's Heaven and Earth. Part I. Can match the fierce, unutterable pain Cut at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws He feels, who night and day devoid of rest, So much as when we call our old debts in Carries his own accuser in his breast. At sixty years, and draw the accounts of evil, Gifford's Juvenal, And find a deuced balance with the devil. He cannot look on her mild eye ; Byron. Her patient words his spirit quell, A quiet conscience makes one so serene ! Within that evil heart there lie Christians have burnt each other qu tc persuaded The hates and fears of hell. That all the apostles would have doj.e as they did. His speech is short ; he wears a surly brow — Byron. There 's none will hear her shriek ; what fear ye The mind, that broods o'er guilty woes, now? Is like the scorpion girt by fire, The workings of the soul ye fear ! In circle narrowing as it glows, Dana's Buccaneer, The flames around their captive close, Dear mother ! in ourselves is hid Till inly seareb'd by thousand throes, The holy spirit-land, And maddening in her ire, Where Thought, the flaming cherub, stands One and sole relief she knows, With its relentless brand; The sting she nourish'd for her foes, We feel the pang, when that dread sword Whose venom never yet was vain, Inscribes the hidden sin, Gives but one pang, and cures all pain, And turneth everywhere to guard And darts into her desperate brain. The paradise within ! So do the dark in soul expire, Mrs. E. Oakes Smith Or live like scorpion girt by fire ; He fears not dying — 'tis a deeper fear, — So writhes the mind remorse hath riven, The thunder-peal cries to his conscience — " Hear !" Unfit for earth, undoom'd for heaven, The rushing winds from memory lift the veil, Darkness above, despair beneath, And in each flash his sins, like spectres pale, Around it flame, within it death ! Freed, from their dark abode, his guilty breast, Byron's Giaour. Shriek in his startled ear — "Death is not rest!" There is no power in holy men, Mrs. Hale Nor charms in prayer — nor purifying form Of penitence — nor outward look — nor fast — Nor agony — nor, greater than all these, CONSPIRACY. The innate tortures of that deep despair, Which is remorse without the fear of hell, conspiracy! But all in all sufficient to itself, Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, Would make a hell of heaven — can exercise, When evils are most free ? 0, then by day, From out the unbounded spirit, the quick sense Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge To mask thy monstrous visage ? Seek none, Upon itself. conspiracy, Byron's Manfred. Hide it in smiles and affability : Not all the glory, all the praise, For if thou put thy native semblance on, That decks the hero's prosperous days, Not Erebus itself were dim enough, The shout of men, the laurel crown, To hide thee from prevention. The pealing anthems of renown, Shaks. Julius Casar, May conscience' dreadful sentence drown. Between the acting of a dreadful thing, Mrs. Holford. And the first motion, all the interim is Who born so poor, Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream ; OF intellect so mean, as not to know The genius and the mortal instruments What seem'd the best ; and knowing not to do ? Are then in council ; and the state of a man, A3 not to know what God and conscience bade, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then And wnat they bade not able to obey ? The nature of an insurrection. Pollock's Course of Time. Shaks. Julius Ccesar CONSIDERATION -CONSTANCY. 81 To be head We '11 cut off any member, and condemn Virtue or folly for a diadem, Banish religion, and make blood as cheap, As when two armies, turn'd into one heap Of carcasses, lye grov'ling : what care we For the slight tainture of disloyalty ? None will commend the race till it be run, And these are deeds, not prais'd till they are done. Robert Gomersall. Provide what money, and what arms you can ; Who has the gold, shall never want the man. Baron's Merza. My plots fall short, like darts, which rash hands throw, With an ill aim, and have too far to go ; Nor can I long discoveries prevent, I deal too much among the innocent. Sir Robert Howard's Vestal Virgin. Oh ! think what anxious moments pass between The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods ; Oh ! 'tis a dreadful interval of time, Fill'd up with horror, and big with death. Addison's Goto. Conspiracies no sooner should be form'd Than executed. Addison's Cato. Conspiracies, Like thunder- clouds, should in a moment form And strike, like lightning, ere the sound is heard. D awe's SetJiona. CONSIDERATION. Consideration like an angel came, And whipp'd the offencing Adam out of him Leaving his body as a paradise, To envelope and contain celestial spirits. Shahs. Henry V. Hang consideration ! When this is spent, is not our ship the same, Our courage too the same, to fetch in more ? The earth, where it is fertilest, returns not More than three harvests, while the glorious sun Posts through the zodiac, and makes up the year. But the sea, which is our mother (that embraces Both the rich Indies in her outstretch'd arms,) Yields every day a crop if we dare reap it. No, no, my mates, let tradesmen think of thrift, And usurers hoard up ; let our expense Be as our comings in are, without bounds. Massinger, F CONSTANCY. I am constant as the northern star ; Of whose true, fix'd and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament. Shales. Julius Casar Sooner I'll think the sun would cease to cheer The teeming earth, and then forget to bear ; Sooner that rivers would rim back, or Thames With ribs of ice in June would bind his streams: Or nature, by whose strength the world endures, Would change her course before you alter yours. Jonson It is a noble constancy you show To this afflicted house : that not like others, The friends of season, you do follow fortune, And in the winter of their fate, forsake The place, whose glories warm'd you. Jonson's Sejanus. First shall the heav'n's bright lamp forget to shine, The stars shall from the azur'd sky decline : First shall the orient with the west shake hand, The centre of the world shall cease to stand : First wolves shall league with lambs, the dolphins fly, The lawyer and physician fees deny : The Thames with Tagus shall exchange her bed, My mistress' locks with mine shall first turn red : First heav'n shall lie below, and hell above, Ere I inconstant to my Delia prove. HoweU. When all things have their trial, you shall find Nothing is constant but a virtuous mind. Shirley's Witty Fair One Make my breast Transparent as pure crystal, that the world Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought My heart does hold. Where shall a woman turn Her eyes to find out constancy. Buckingham. No never from this hour to part, We '11 live and love so true, The sigh that rends thy constant heart, Shall break thy Edwin's too. Goldsmith's HermU. Yes, let the eagle change his plume, The leaf its hue, the flower its bloom, But ties around that heart were spun, Which would not, could not be undone. Campbtu. The mountain rill Seeks with no surer flow the far, bright sea, Than my unchang'd affections flow to thee. Park Benjamin 82 CONTEMPLATION - CONTEMPT - CONTENT. The love that is kept in the beauty of trust, Cannot pass like the foam from the seas, Or a mark that the finger hath trae'd in the dust, Where 't is swept by the breath of the breeze. Mrs. Welby. There is nothing but death Our affections can sever, And till life's latest breath Love shall bind us for ever. Percival. 1 have won Thy heart, my gentle girl ! but it hath been When that soft eye was on me ; and the love I told beneath the evening influence, Shall be as constant as its gentle star. Willis. Though youth be past, and beauty fled, The constant heart its pledge redeems, Like box, that guards the flowerless bed And brighter from the contrast seems. Mrs. Hale. CONTEMPLATION. - TION.) See Reflec- CONTEMPT. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard. Shaks. Richard II. Hold, Clifford ; do not honour him so much, To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart ; What valour were it when a cur doth grin, For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, When he might spurn him with his foot away ? Shake. Henry VI. Part III. T is true, I am hard buffeted, Though few can be my foes, Harsh words fall heavy on my head, And unresisted blows. R. M. Milnes. /, to herd with narrow foreheads, Vacant of our glorious gains, Like a beast with lower pleasures, Like a beast with lower pains ! Shall it not be scorn to me To harp on such a moulder'd string ? I am sham'd through all my nature To have lov'd so slight a thing. Tennyson CONTENT. There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy No chemic art can counterfeit ; It makes men rich in greatest poverty, Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, The homely whistle to sweet music's strain; Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent, That much in little — all in naught — content. Wilbye Contentment gives a crown, Where fortune hath deny'd it. Thomas Ford's Love's Labyrinth Oh calm, hush'd, rich content, Is there a being, blessedness, without thee ? How soft thou down'st the couch where thou dost rest, Nectar to life, thou sweet ambrosian feast. Maston's first part of Antonio and Mellida Yet oft we see that some in humble state Are cheerful, pleasant, happy, and content : When those indeed that are of higher state, With vain additions do their thoughts torment Lady Carew's Mariartu How man's desire Pursues contentment ! 'T is the soul of action, And the propounded reason of our life. Nabb's Tottenham Cmrt. The mind's content Sweetens all suff 'rings of th' afflicted sense, Those that are bred in labour think it sport, Above the soft delight which wanton appetite Begets for others, whom indulgent fortune Prefers in her degrees, though equal nature Made all alike. NaWs Tottenham Court. Each good mind doubles his own free content, When in another's use they give it vent. Sir Giles Goosecap, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow. Shaks. Henry VIII Poor and content, is rich and rich enough ; But riches, nneless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor. Shaks. Othello My crown is in my heart, not on my head ; Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones. Nor to be seen : my crown is call'd content ; A crovm it is that seldom kings enjoy. Shaks. Henry VI. Part III I CONTENT. 83 Best state, contentless,. Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse than the worst content. Shahs. Timon. Most miserable Is the desire that's glorious: blessed be those How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort. Shales. Cymb. He that commends me to mine own content, Commends me to the thing I cannot get. Shahs. Cymb. Much will always wanting be To him who much desires. Thrice happy he To whom the wise indulgency of heaven, With sparing hand, but just enough has given. Cowley. Cellars and granaries in vain we fill With all the bounteous summer's store, If the mind thirst and hunger still : The poor rich man 's emphatically poor. Slaves to the things we too much prize, We masters grow of all that we despise. Cowley. The cynic hugs his poverty, The pelican her wilderness ; And 'tis the Indian's pride to be Naked on frozen Caucasus : Contentment cannot smart ; stoics, we see, Make torments easy to their apathy. Anon. O may I with myself agree, And never covet what I see; Content me with an humble shade, My passions tam'd, my wishes laid; For while our wishes wildly roll, We banish quiet from the soul; 'Tis then the busy beat the air, And misers gather wealth and care. Dyer's Grongar Hill. O grant me, heav'n, a middle state, Neither too humble nor too great ; More than enough for nature's ends, With something left to treat my friends. Mallet. Unfit for greatness, I her snares defy, And look on riches with untainted eye To others let the glitt'ring baubles fall, Content shall place us far above them ail. Churchill. What tho' we quit all glittering pomp and greatness, The busy noisy flattery of courts, We shall enjoy content; in that alone fs greatness, power, wealth, honour, all summ'd up. Powell's King of Naples. Contentment, rosy, dimpled maid, Thou brightest daughter of the sky, Why dost thou to the hut repair, And from the gilded palace fly ? I've trae'd thee on the peasant's cheek ; I've mark'd thee in the milkmaid's smi.e ; I 've heard thee loudly laugh and speak, Amid the sons of want and toil ; Yet in the circles of the great, Where fortune's gifts are all combin'd, I 've sought thee early, sought thee late, And ne'er thy lovely form could find. Since then from wealth and pomp you flee, I ask but competence and thee ! Lady Mannen Life's but a short chase; our game — content. Which most pursued, is most compell'd to fly : And he that mounts him on the swiftest hope, Shall soonest run his courser to a stand ; While the poor peasant from some distant hill, Undanger'd and at ease, views all the sport, And sees content take shelter in his cottage. Cibber's Richard III Her poverty was glad ; her heart content, Nor knew she what the spleen or vapours meant Dryden. Contentment parent of delight, So much a stranger to our sight, Say, goddess in what happy place, Mortals behold thy blooming face; Thy gracious auspices impart, And for thy temple choose my heart, They whom thou deignest to inspire, Thy science learn, to bound desire ; By happy alchymy of mind, They turn to pleasure all they find. Green's Spleen. The bliss of man (could pride that blessing find) Is not to act or think beyond mankind No pow'rs of body or of soul to share, But what his nature and his state can bear Why has not man a microscopic eye ? For this plain reason — man is not a fly. Say for what use were finer optics given T' inspect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n I Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er, To smart and agonize at ev'ry pore ? Or quick effluvia darting through the brain, Die of a rose in aromatic pain ? If nature thund'red in his op'ning ears, And stunn'd him with the music of the sphere*. How would he wish that heaven had left him still The whisp'ring zephyr, an J the purling rill? Who finds not providence all good and wise, Alike in what it gives and what denies. Pope's Essay an M*il 84 CONVERSATION - COQUETTE. Honour and hhamc from no condition rise ; Act well your part, there all the honour lies. Fortune in men has some small difFcrcncc made, One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade ; The cobler apron'd, and the parson gown'd, The friar hoodcu, and the monarch crown'd. " What differ more," you cry, " than crown and cowl," 1 11 tell you, friend ! — a wise man and a fool. You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, Worth makes the man and want of it the fellow ; The rest is all but leather or prunella. Pope's Essay on Man. Cease then, nor order imperfection name : Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. Know thy own point ; this kind, this due degree Of blindness, weakness, heav'n bestows on thee. Submit — in this or any other sphere, Secure to be as bless' d as thou canst bear. Pope's Essay on Man. As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway, Defac'd by time, and tott'ring in decay, There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed ; And wondering man could want a larger pile, Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile. Goldsmith's Traveller. He, fairly looking into life's account, Saw frowns and favours were of like amount ; And viewing all — his perils, prospects, purse, He said, " content; — 'tis well it is no worse." Crabbe. Happy the life, that in a peaceful stream, Obscure, unnoticed through the vale has flow'd ; The heart that ne'er was charm'd by fortune's gleam Is ever sweet contentment's blest abode. Percival. Lo now, from idle wishes clear, I make the good I may not find ; Ado wn the stream I gently steer, And shift my sail with every wind. And half by nature, half by reason, Can still with pliant heart prepare, The mind, attuned to every season, The merry heart that laughs at care. H. M. Milman. Think'st thou the man whose mansions hold The worldling's pomp and miser's gold, Obtains a richer prize Than he who, in his cot at rest, 1'inds heavenly peace a willing guest, And bears the promise in his breast f*f treasure in the skies ? Mrs. Sigourney. Content dwells with him, for his mind is fed, And temperance has driven out unrest. Willis CONVERSATION. — (See Talking.} COQUETTE. While to his arms the blushing bride he tooK, To seeming sadness she compos'd her look ; As if by force subjected to his will, Though pleas'd, dissembling, and a woman still. Dry den's Cymon and Iphigenia She lik'd his soothing lutes, his presents more, And granted kisses, but would grant no more. Gay's Trivia. Then in a kiss she breath'd her various arts, Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts ; A mind for love, but still a changing mind, The lisp affected, and the glance design'd ; The sweet confusing blush, the secret wink, The gentle swimming walk, the courteous sink ; The stare for strangeness fit, for scorn the frown For decent yielding, looks declining down ; The practis'd languish, where well-feign'd desire Would own its melting in a mutual fire ; Gay smiles to comfort ; April showers to move ; And all the nature, all the art of love. ParneWs Hesiod. From loveless youth to unrespected age No passion gratified, except her rage, So much the fury still outran the wit, The pleasure mist her, and the scandal hit. Pope's Moral Essays. There affectation, with a sickly mien, Shows in her cheeks the roses of eighteen , Practis'd to lisp, and hang the head aside, Faints into airs, and languishes with pride : On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe, Wrapt in a gown, for sickness and for show. Pope's Rape of the Lock Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose, Quick as her eyes, and as unfix'd as those ; Favours to none, to all she smiles extends, Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers strike. And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. Pope's Rape of the Lock See how the world its veterans rewards ! A youth of frolics, an old age of cards ; Fair to no purpose, artful to no end.; Young without lovers, old without a friend ; A fop their passion, but their prize a sot ; Alive, ridiculous ; and dead, forgot ! Pope's Moral Essays. CORPULENCE. 8A Odious! in woollen! 'twould a saint provoke, (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke) M No, let a charming chintz, and Brussels lace, " Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : u One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — ♦♦And — Betty — give this cheek a little red." Pope's Moral Essays. With every pleasing, every prudent part, Say, ♦♦ what can Chloe want ?" — she wants a heart. She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought ; But never, never reach'd one generous thought. Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, Content to dwell in decencies for ever. So very reasonable, so unmov'd, As never yet to love, or to be lov'd. Pope's Moral Essays. Nymph of the mincing mouth and languid eye, And lisping tongue so soft, and head awry, And flutt'ring heart, of leaves of aspen made ; Who were thy parents, blushful virgin? — say; Perchance dame Folly gave thee to the day, With Gaffer Ignorance's aid. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar. Now Laura moves along the joyous crowd, Smiles in her eyes, and simpers on her lips ; To some she whispers, others speaks aloud, To some she curtsies, and to some she dips. Byron's Beppo. Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "no ;" And won't say " yes," and keeps you on and offing On a lee shore, till it begins to blow ; Then sees your heart wreck'd with an inward scoffing : This works a world of sentimental woe, And sends new Werters yearly to their coffin ; But yet is merely innocent flirtation, Not quite adultery, but adulteration. Byron. The vain coquette each suit disdains, And glories in her lover's pains ; With age she fades — each lover flies, Contemn'd, forlorn, she pines and dies. Gay's Fables. Who has not heard coquettes complain Of days, months, years, mis-spent in vain ? For time misus'd they pine and waste, And love's sweet pleasures never taste. Gay. Oan I again that look recall, That once could make me die for thee ? — No, no ! — the eye that beams on all, 3hall never more be priz'd by me. Moore. Byron. Would you teach her to love? For a time seem to rove ; At first she may frown in a pet; But leave her awhile, She shortly will smile, And then you may win your coquette. Now I pray thee do not call My cousin a coquette, When I tell you she had danglers By the dozen in her net; For she was very beautiful, Bewildering and bright. Mrs. Osgood But why, oh why, on all thus squander The treasures one alone can prize, — Why let the looks at random wander, Which beam from those deluding eyes ? Those syren tones, so lightly spoken, Cause many a heart, I know, to thrill ; But mine, and only mine, till broken, In every pulse must answer still. C. F. Hoffman, 1 would sooner bind My thoughts to the open sky : I would worship as soon a familiar star, That is bright to every eye. 'Twere to love the wind that is free to all — The wave of the beautiful sea — 'Twere to hope for all the light in heaven, To hope for the love of thee. Willis. CORPULENCE. Would he were fatter : — But I fear him not : Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. Shales. Julius Casar. Let me have men about me that are fat, Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights : Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; He thinks too much ; such men are dangerous. Shales. Julius Ccesat Now FalstafF sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along : Were 't not for laughing I should pity him. Shales. Henry IV. Part 1 Still she strains the aching clasp That binds her virgin zone ; I know it hurts her, though she looks As cheerful as she can, Her waist is larger than b or life For life is but a span. O W. UoLna &> CORRUPTION. CORRUPTION. My business in this state, Madr; mc a looker-on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble, Till it o'crrun the stew. Shahs. Mea. for Mea. Corruption is a tree, whose branches arc Of an unmcasurable length ; they spread Ev'ry where ; and the dew that drops from thence Hath infected some chairs and stools of authority. Beaumont and Fletcher's Honest Man's Fortune. Justice herself, that sitteth whimplcd 'bout The eyes, doth it not because she will take No gold, but that she would not be seen blushing When she takes it ; the balances she holds Are not to weigh the rights of the cause, but The weight of the bribe : she will put up her Naked sword, if thou offer her a golden scabbard. Lilly's Midas. He who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses The tempted with dishonour foul, suppos'd Not incorruptible of faith, not proof Against temptation. Milton's Paradise Lost. As some of us, in trusts, have made The one hand with the other trade : Gain'd vastly by their joint endeavour, The right a thief, the left receiver ; And what the one, by tricks, forestall'd, The other, by as sly, retail' d. Butler's Hudibras. He that complies against his will, Is of his own opinion still ; Which he may adhere to, yet disown, For reasons to himself best known. Butler's Hudibras. Know what a leading voice is worth. A seconding, a third, or fourth ; How much a casting voice comes to, That turns up trumps of ay, or no : And by adjusting all at th' end, Share every one his dividend. Butler's Hudibras. Far as the sun his radiant course extends, Interest, my friend, with sway despotic rules, Some fight for interest, some for interest pray, And were not honesty the road to want, If woiud not be that slighted thing it is. Gentleman's Osman. I tence, wretched nation ! all thy woes arise, Avnw'd corruption, licens'd perjuries, Eternal taxes, treaties for a day, Servants that rule, and senates that obey. Lord Lytileton. 'T is hence you lord it o'er your servile senates , How low the slaves will stoop to gorge their lusts When aptly baited : cv'n the tongues of patriots. Those sons of clamour, oft relax the nerve Within the warmth of favour. Brooke's Gustavus Vasa The impious man, who sells his country's freedom Makes all the guilt of tyranny his own. His are her slaughters, her oppressions his ; Just heav'n ! reserve your choicest plagues for hira^ And blast the venal wretch. Martyn's Timoleon, If, ye powers divine ! Ye mark the movements of this nether world, And bring them to account, crush, crush, those vipers, Who, singled out by a community To guard their rights, shall, for a grasp of air, Or paltry office, sell 'em to the foe. Miller's Mahomet. Unless corruption first deject the pride, And guardian vigour of the free-born soul, All crude attempts of violence are vain ; Too firm within, and while at heart untouch'd, Ne'er yet by force was freedom overcome. Thomson's Liberty. But though bare merit might in Rome appear The strongest plea for favour, 't is not here ; We form our judgment in another way ; And they will best succeed, who best can pay ; Those, who would gain the votes of British tribes, Must add to force of merit, force of bribes. Churchill's Rosciad. In Britain's senate, he a seat obtains, And one more pensioner St. Stephen gains. My lady falls to play ; so bad her chance, He must repair it ; takes a bribe from France : The house impeach him, Coningsby harangues, The court forsake him, and Sir Balaam hangs : Wife, son, and daughter, Satan, are thy own, His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the crown : The devil and the king divide the prize, And sad Sir Balaam curses God and dies. Pope's Moral Essays Ask men's opinion ; Scoto, now shall tell, How trade increases, and the world goes well : Strike off his pension by the setting sun, And Britain, if not Europe, is undone. Pope's Moral Essays The veriest hermit in the nation May yield, God knows, to strong temptation. Pope Who having lost his credit, pawn'd his rent, Is therefore fit to have a government. Pope, COUNTRY. This mournfui truth is every where confcss'd, Slow rises worth by poverty depress'd : But here more slow, where all are slaves to gold, Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold : When won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd, The groom retails the favour of his lord. Dr. Johnson's London. Here let those reign, whom pensions can incite, To vote a patriot black, a courtier white, Explain their country's dear-bought rights away, And plead for pirates in the face of day ; With slavish tenets taint our poison'd youth, And lend a lie the confidence of truth. Dr. Johnson's London. Ere masquerades debauch'd, excise oppress'd, Or English honour grew a standing jest. Dr. Johnson's London. Out supple tribes repress their patriot throats, And ask no questions but the price of votes. Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. Talk not of a grant : What a king ought not, that he cannot give ; And what is more than meet from princes' bounty, Is plunder, not a grant. Young's Brothers. Thieves at home must hang ; but he that puts Into his overgorged and bloated purse, The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes. Cowper's Task. He burns with most intense and flagrant zeal To serve his country. Ministerial grace Deals him out money from the public chest, Or if that mine be shut, some private purse Supplies his need with an usurious loan, To be refunded duly, when his vote, Well-managed, shall have earn'd its worthy price. Cowper's Task. Whoso seeks an audit here Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish, Wild fowl or ven'son, and his errand speeds. Compels Task. Examine well His milk-white hand, the palm is hardly clean — But here and there an ugly smutch appears. Foh ! 'T was a bribe that left it. He has touch'd Corruption. Cowper's Task. To bribe the mob, with brandy, beer, and song, To put their greasy fists to court addresses, Full of professions kind, and sweet caresses, And with a fiddle lead the hogs along. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar. E'en grave divines submit to glittering gold ! The best of consciences are bought and sold. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar. A close state-.eech, who, sticking to the nation, As adders deaf to honour's execration, Sucks from its throat the blood by night, by daj Nor till the state expires, will drop away. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar And conscience, truth, and honesty are made To rise and fall, like other wares of trade. Moore, 'T is pleasant, purchasing our fellow-creatures, And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dext'rous ; some by features Are bought up, others by a warlike leader, Some by a place, as tend their years or natures ; The most by ready cash — but all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices. Byron COUNTRY. I can make any country mine : I have A private coat for Italian stilettos, I can be treach'rous with the Walloon, drunk with The Dutch, a chimney-sweeper with the I)ish, A gentlemen with the Welch, and turn arrant Thief with the English. What then is my country to me ? Rowley's Noble Spanish Soldier. Stand Firm for your country, and become a man Honour'd and lov'd : It were a noble life, To be found dead embracing her. Johnson's Catiline. He who loves not his country can love nothing. Byron. And lives there man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said — This is my own, my native land ! Sir Walter Scotl. They love their land because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why. Halleck Who dies in vain Upon his country's war-fields and within The shadow of her altars ? Feeble heart ! I tell thee that the voice of patriot blood, Thus pour'd for faith and freedom, hath a lone Which from the night of ages, from the gulf* Of death shall burst and make its high appeal Sound unto earth and heaven ! Mrs. Hsman*. My country! ay, thy sons are proud, True heirs of freedom's glorious dower ; For never here has knee been bow'd In homage to a mortal power 1 Mrs. HaU 88 COUNTRY LIFE. No fearing, no doubting, thy soldier shall know, When here stands his country, and yonder her foe ; One look at the bright sun, one prayer to the sky, One glance where our banner floats glorious on high : Then on, as the young lion bounds on his prey ; Let the sword flash on high, fling the scabbard away ; Roll on, like the thunderbolt over the plain ! — We come back in glory, or come not again. Thomas Gray, Jr. Thou, O, my country, hast thy foolish ways, Too apt to purr at every stranger's praise, — But if the stranger touch thy modes or laws, Off goes the velvet, and out come the claws ! O. W. Holmes. COUNTRY LIFE. None can describe the sweets of country life, But those blest men that do enjoy and taste them. Plain husbandmen, tho' far below our pitch Of fortune plac'd, enjoy a wealth above us : To whom the earth with true and bounteous justice, Free from war's cares returns an easy food. They breathe the fresh and uncorrupted air, And by clear brooks enjoy untroubled sleeps. Their state is fearless and secure, enrich'd With several blessings, such as greatest kings Might in true justice envy, and themselves Would count too happy, if they truly knew them. May's Agrippina. The fields did laugh, the flowers did freshly spring, The trees did bud and early blossoms bore, And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing, Aid told that gardin's pleasures in their caroling. Spenser's Fairy Queen. Oh, this life Is nobler than attending for a check , Richer than doing nothing for a bauble ; Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk : Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine, Yet keeps his book uncross'd. Shahs. Cymbeline. Abused mortals ! did you know Where joy, heart's-ease, and comforts growj You 'd scorn proud towers, And seek them in these bowers, Where winds sometimes our woods perhaps may shake, But blustering care could never tempest make, Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us, Saving of tjuntains that glide by us. Sir W. Raleigh. Blest silent groves ! O may ye be For ever mirth's best nursery! May pure contents For ever pitch their tents Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these mountains, And peace still slumber by these purling fountains ! Which we may every year Find when we come a fishing here ! Sir W. Raleigh. This is a beautiful life now, privacy, The sweetness and the benefit of essence : I see there is no man but may make his paradise, And it is nothing but his love and dotage Upon the world's foul joys that keeps him out on't. Beaumont and Fletcher's Nice Valour Under a tuft of shade that on the green Stood whisp'ring soft, by a fresh fountain side They sat them down ; and after no more toil Of their sweet gard'ning labour than suffie'd To recommend cool zephyr, and made ease More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite More grateful, to their supper fruits they fell. Milton's Paradise Lost. Now purer air Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair : now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils. Milton's Paradise Lost. The flow'ry lap Of irriguous valley spread her store, Flow'rs of all hue, and without thorn the rose. Milton's Paradise Lost A wilderness of sweets : for nature here Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweets ; Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss. Milton's Paradise Lost. 'T is a goodly scene — Yon river, like a silvery snake, lays out His coil, i' tli' sunshine lovingly — it breathes Of freshness in this lap of flowery meadows. Sir A. Hunt's Julian. O happy if ye knew your happy state, Ye rangers of the fields ! whom nature's boon Cheers with her smiles, and ev'ry element Conspires to bless. Somerville's Chase. Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear ; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Gray's Church Yard. COUNTRY" LIFE. 89 O happy plains ! remote from war's alarms, Aiid all the ravages of hostile arms ! And happy shepherds, who, secure from fear, On open downs preserve your fleecy care ! Whose spacious barns groan with increasing store, And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor ! No barbarous soldier, bent on cruel spoil, Spreads desolation o'er your fertile soil ; No trampling steed lays waste the ripen'd grain ; Nor crackling fires devour the promis'd gain ; No flaming heavens cast their blaze afar, The dreadful signal of invasive war ; No trumpet's clangour wounds the mother's ear, And calls the lover from his swooning fair. Gay's Rural Sports. What happiness the rural maid attends, In cheerful labour while each day she spends ! She gratefully receives what heaven has sent, And, rich in poverty, enjoys content. (Such happiness, and such unblemish'd fame, Ne'er glad the bosom of the courtly dame :) She never feels the spleen's imagin'd pains, Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins ; She never loses life in thoughtless ease, Nor on the velvet couch invites disease ; Her home-spun dress in simple neatness lies, And for no glaring equipage she sighs : Her reputation, which is all her boast, In a malicious visit ne'er was lost, No midnight masquerade her beauty wears, And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs. Gay's Rural Sports. Ye happy fields, unknown to noise and strife, The kind rewarders of industrious life ; Ye shady woods, where once I us'd to rove, Alike indulgent to the muse and love ; Ye murmuring streams that in meanders roll, The sweet composers of the pensive soul, Farewell ! The city calls me from your bowers ; Farewell, amusing thought, and peaceful hours. Gay's Rural Sports. Perhaps thy lov'd Lucinda shares thy walk, With soul to thine attun'd. Then nature all Wears to the lover's eye a look of love ; And all the tumuit of a guilty world, Toss'd by ungenerous passions, sinks away. Thomson's Seasons. Together tHus they shunn'd the cruel scorn Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet From giddy passion and low-minded pride : Almost on nature's common bounty fed ; Like the gay birds that sung them to repose, Content and careless of to-morrow's fare. Thomson's Seasons. Thrice happy he ! who on the sunless side Of a romantic mountain, forest crown'd, Beneath the whole collected shade reclines : Or in the gelid caverns, wood-bine wrought, And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams, Sits coolly calm ; while all the world without, Unsatisfied and sick, tosses at noon. Emblem instructive of the virtuous man, Who keeps his temper'd mind serene and pure, And every passion aptly harmonis'd, Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd. Thomson's Seasons. The lovely young Lavinia once had friends ; And fortune smil'd, deceitful, on her birth; For in her helpless years depriv'd of all, Of every stay, save innocence and heaven, She with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd Among the windings of a woody vale ; By solitude and deep surrounding shades, But more by bashful modesty conceal'd. Thomson's Seasov.s Here too dwells simple truth ; plain innocence ; Unsullied beauty ; sound unbroken youth, Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd ; Health ever blooming ; unambitious toil ; Calm contemplation; and poetic ease. Thomson's Seasons He when young spring protrudes the bursting gems, Marks the first bud, and sucks the healthful galo Into his freshen'd soul ; her genial hours He full enjoys ; and not a beauty blows, And not an opening blossom breathes in vain. Thomson's Seasons Be full, ye courts, be great who will ; Search for peace with all your skill ; Open wide the lofty door, Seek her on the marble floor ; In vain you search, she is not there ; In vain you search the domes of care : Grass and flowers Quiet treads, On the meads and mountain-heads, Along with Pleasure close ally'd, Ever by each other's side : And often by the murm'ring rill, Hear the thrush, while all is still Within the groves of Grongar Hill. Vyu. Thus is nature's vesture wrought, To instruct our wandering thought ; Thus she dresses green and gay, To dispense our cares away. X?y«r' Grongar Hilt COUNTRY LTFE. Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view! The fountains fall, the rivers flow, The woody valleys, warm and low, The windy summit, wild and high, Roughly rushing on the sky! The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tower, The naked rock, the shady bower, The town and village, dome and farm, Each gave each a double charm, As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm. Dyer's Grongar Hill. Secure and free they pass their harmless hours, Gay as the birds that revel in the grove, And sing the morning up. Tate's Loyal General. Born to no pride, inheriting no strife, Nor marrying discord in a noble wife, Stranger to civil and religious rage, The good man walk'd innoxious through his age ; No courts he saw, no suits would ever try, Nor dar'd an oath, nor hazarded a lie. Unlearn'd, he knew no schoolmen's subtle art, No language but the language of the heart, By nature honest, by experience wise, Healthy by temperance and exercise ; His life, though long, to sickness past unknown, His death was instant and without a groan. O grant me thus to live, and thus to die ! Who sprung from kings shall know less joy than I. Pope. Give me, indulgent gods ! with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene, No aplendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur there. Young's Love of Fame. Nature I '11 court in her sequester' d haunts, By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell ; Where the pois'd lark his evening ditty chants, And health, and peace, and contemplation dwell. Smollefs Ode to Independence. Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close, Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; There, as I pass'd with careless steps and slow, The mingling notes came soften'd from below ; The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, The sober herd that low'd to meet their young ; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school ; The watch -dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, \nd fill'd each pause the nightingale had made. Goldsmith's Deserted Village. A time there was, ere England's griefs began When cv'ry rood of ground maintain'd its map, For him light labour spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life rcquir'd, and gave no mon% His best companions, innocence and health. And his best wishes, ignorance of wealth. Goldsmiths Deserted Village Around in sympathetic mirth Its tricks the kitten tries; The cricket chirrups in the hearth, The crackling fagot flies. Goldsmiths Hermit God made the country and man made the town ; What wonder then, that health and virtue, gifts That can alone make sweet the bitter draught That life holds out to all, should most abound And least be threaten' d in the fields and groves ? Cowpefs Task. Scenes must be beautiful which daily view'd Please daily, and whose novelty survives Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years. Cowpefs Task. The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns ; The low' ring eye, the petulance, the frown, And sullen sadness that o'ershade, distort, And mar the face of beauty, when no cause For such immeasurable woe appears, These Flora banishes, and gives the fair Sweet smiles and blooms less transient than hei own. Cowpefs Task. Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds Exhilarate the spirits, and restore The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of some fair-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike The dash of ocean on his winding shore, And lull the spirit while they fill the mind. Cowper's Task. They love the country, and none else, who seek For their own sake its silence and its shade : Delights which who would leave, that has a heart Susceptible of pity, or a mind Cultured and capable of sober thought ? Cowper's Task. Meditation here May think down hours to moments. Here the heart May give an useful lesson to the heads And learning wiser grow without his books. Cowper's Task This pure air Braces the listless nerves, and warms the blood : I feel in freedom here. Joanna Baillie's De Montfort COUNTRY LIFE. 91 C now canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, O how canst thou renounce and hope to be forgiven ! Beanie's Minstrel. There health, so wild and gay, with bosom bare, And rosy cheek, keen eye, and flowing hair, Trips with a smile the breezy scene along, And pours the spirit of content in song. Dr. WolcoVs Peter Pindar. But peace was on the cottage, and the fold, From court intrigue, from bickering faction far ; Beneath the chestnut tree love's tale was told ; And to the tinkling of the light guitar, Sweet stoop' d the western sun, sweet rose the evening star. Scott's Vision of Don Roderick. There shall be love, when genial morn appears, Like pensive beauty, smiling in her tears, To watch the brightening roses of the sky, And muse on nature with a poet's eye ! Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. The moon is up — the watch-tower dimly burns — And down the vale his sober step returns ; But pauses oft, as winding rocks convey The still sweet fall of music far away ; And oft he lingers from his home awhile To watch the dying notes ; and start, and smile. Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. It was in this lone valley she would charm The ling'ring noon, where flow'rs a couch had strewn ; Her cheek reclining, and her snowy arm On hillock by the palm-tree half o'ergrown : And aye that volume on her lap is thrown, Which every heart of human mould endears ; With Shakspeare's self she speaks and smiles alone, And no intruding visitation fears, To shame th' unconscious laugh, or stop her sweet- est tears. Campbell's Gertrude of Wyoming. From the white-thorn the May-flower shed Its dewy fragrance round our head : Not Ariel lived more merrily Under the blossom'd bough than we. Scott's Marmion. To pass their lives in fountains and on flowers, And never know the weight of human hours. Byron. The nightingale, their only vesper-bell, Sung sweetly to the rose the day's farewell. Byron's Island — View them near At home, where all their worth and power ;a placed ; And there their hospitable fires burn clear, And there the lowest farm-house hearth is graced With manly hearts in piety sincere, Faithful in love, in honour stern and chaste, In friendship warm and true, in danger brave, Beloved in life and sainted in the grave. Halleck's Poems And the winds and the waters In pastoral measures, Go winding around us, with roll upon roll, Till the soul lies within In a circle of pleasures, WTiich hideth the soul. Miss Barrett. Thanks to my humble nature, while I 've limbs, Tastes, senses, I 'm determined to be rich ; So long as that fine alchymist, the sun, Can transmute into gold whate'er I like On earth, in air, or water ! while a banquet Is ever spread before me, in a hall Of heaven's own building, perfumed with the breath Of nature's self, and ringing to the sounds Of her own choristers. J. N. Barker, Poor drudge of the city ! How happy he feels, With burrs on his legs And the grass at his heels; No dodger behind, His bandannas to share, No constable grumbling — " You cannot go there 1" 0. W. Holmes. Your love in a cottage is hungry, Your vine is a nest for flies — Your milkmaid shocks the graces And simplicity talks of pies ! You lie down to your shady slumber And wake with a bug in your ear, And your damsel that walks in the morning Is shod like a mountaineer. Willis, Rich, though poor ! My low-roof 'd cottage is this hour a heaven, Music is in it — and the song she sings, That sweet-voiced wife of mine, arrests the eai Of my young child awake upon her knee And with his calm eye on his master's face My noble hound lies couchanL WtUu \n COURAGE. I 'in v jary of my lonely hut And of its bias fjd tree, The very lake is like my lot, So silent constantly — I've liv'd amid the forest gloom Until I almost fear — When will the thrilling voices come My spirit thirsts to hear? Willis. O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, I mock at the pride of Greece and Rome ; And when I am stretch'd beneath the pines When the evening star so holy sliines, I laugh at the lore and pride of man, At the Sophist's schools, and the learned clan ; For what are they all in their high conceit, When man in the bush with God may meet ? R. W. Emerson. Within the sun-lit forest, Our roof the bright blue sky, Where fountains flow, and wild flowers blow, We lift our hearts on high. Ebenezer Elliott. I sigh for the time When the reapers at morn Come down from the hill At the sound of the horn ; Or when dragging the rake, I follow'd them out While they toss'd the light sheaves With their laughter about ; Through the field, with boy-daring, Barefooted I ran; But the stubbles foreshadow'd The path of the man. Now the uplands of life Lie all barren of sheaves — While my footsteps are loud In the withering leaves. T. Buchanan Read. COURAGE. It is held, That valour is the chiefest virtue, and Most dignifies the haver : If it be, The man I speak of cannot in the world Be singly counterpois'd. Shahs. Coriolanus. He stopp'd the fliers; And, by his rare example, made the coward Turn terroi into sport ; as wuves before A vessel under sail, so men obey'd Ar.a fell before his stern. Shahs. Coriolanus. Mcthinks I sec him stamp thus, and call thus, — Come on, you cowards, you were got in fear, Though you were borne in Rome. Shahs. Coriolanus Come all to ruin ; Let thy mother rather feel thy pride, than fc?r Thy dangerous stoutness ; for I mock at death, With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me; But own thy pride thyself. Shahs. Coriolanus False hound ! If you have writ your annals true, 't is there That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your voices in Corioli : Alone I did it. Shahs. Coriolanus. The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear. Shahs. Macbeth. Pr'ythee, peace : I dare do all that may become a man ; Who dares do more, is none. Shahs. Macbeth. But screw your courage to the sticking place, And we '11 not fail. Shahs. Macbeth. I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd, Than what I fear ; for always I am Caesar. Shahs. Julius C&sar Think not, thou noble Roman, That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome ; He bears too great a mind. Shahs. Julius C&sar I dare assure thee that no enemy Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus : The Gods defend him from so great a shame ! When you do find him, or alive, or dead, He will be found like Brutus, — like himself. Shahs. Julius Casar A thousand hearts are great within my bosom : Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; Our ancient word of courage, fair St. George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! Upon them ! Victory sits upon our helms. Shahs. Richard III If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us, And not these bastard Bretagnes ; whom our fathers Have in their own land beaten,bobb'd, and thump'o. And, on record, left them tbe heirs of sba/ne. Shahs. Richard III COURAGE. 9? Fight, gentlemen of England ; fight, bold yeomen : Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head. Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood : Amaze the welkin with your broken staves. Shaks. Richard III. King Richard. — A horse ! a horse I my kingdom for a horse ! Cateshy. — Withdraw, my lord : I '11 help you to a horse. King Richard. — Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die. Sheiks. Richard III. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on ; And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. Shaks. Richard III. What though the mast be now blown overboard, The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood ; Yet lives our pilot still. Is 't meet that he Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad, With tearful eyes add water to the sea, And give more strength to that which hath too much, Whiles, in his moan, the ship slips on the rock, Which industry and courage might have sav'd ? All, what a shame ! ah, what a fault were this ! Shaks. Henry IV. Part III. In despite of all mischance, Of thee thyself, and all thy complices, Edward will always bear himself a king : Though fortune's malice overthrow my state, My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. Shaks. Henry IV. Part III. They call'd us for our fierceness, English dogs ; Now, like to whelps, we crying ran away. Hark, countrymen ! either renew the fight, Or tear the lions out of England's coat ; Renounce your soil, give sheep in lion's stead. Shaks. Henry IV. Part I. By how much unexpected, by so much We must awake, endeavour for defence ; For courage mounteth with occasion. Shaks. King John. He 's truly valiant that can suffer The worst that man can breathe ; and make his wrongs His outsides ; to wear them like his raiment, care- lessly ; And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. Shaks. Timon. His valour, shown upon our crests to-day, Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds, Even in the bosom of our adversaries. Shaks. Henry IV. Pari I. You must no*, think, That we are made of stuff so flat and dull, That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime. Shaks. Hamlet Let us die instant : once more back again ; The man that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go home, and with his cap in hand, Like a base pander hold the chamber door, Whilst, by a slave, no gentler than my dog, His fairest daughter is contaminate. Shaks. Henry \ A valiant man Ought not to undergo, or tempt a danger, But worthily, and by selected ways. He undertakes by reason, not by chance. His valour is the salt t' his virtues, They 're all unseason'd without it. Ben Jonson's New Inr* Brave spirits are a balsam to themselves, There is a nobleness of mind, that heals Wounds beyond salves. CartwrighVs Lady Errant What, though the field be lost, All is not lost ; th' ungovernable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield, And what is else not to be overcome ; That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me. Milton's Paradise Lost Darken'd so, yet shone Above them all the arch-angel : but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrench'd, and care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride, Waiting revenge. Milton's Paradise Lost To bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee, and deify his pow'r, Who from the terror of this arm so late Doubted his empire ; that were low indeed, That were an ignominy and shame beneath This downfall. Milton's Paradise Lost But he his wonted pride Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore Semblance of worth not substance, gently rais'd Their fainting courage, and dispell'd their fears. Milton's Paradise Lost No thought of flight, None of retreat, no unbecoming deed That argu'd fear : each on himself rely'd, As only in his arm the moment lay Of victory. Milton's Paradise Lost 04 COURAGE. [ should ill become this throne, O peers, And this imperial sov'reignty, adorn'd With splendour, arm'd with pow'r, if aught pro- pos'd And judg'd of public moment, in the shape Of difficulty or danger, could deter Mc from attempting. Milton's Paradise Lost. Th* undaunted fiend what this might be admir'd, Admir'd, not fear'd ; God and his son except, Created thing nought valued he or shunn'd. Milton's Paradise Lost. Incens'd with indignation, Satan stood Unterrificd, and like a comet burn'd, That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair Shakes pestilence and war. Milton's Paradise Lost. Let fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul, that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more : Fate was not mine, nor am I fate's : Souls know no conquerors. Dryden's Don Sebastian 'Tis not now who's stout and bold ? But who bears hunger best and cold ? And he 's approv'd the most deserving, Who longest can hold out at starving ; And he that routs most pigs and cows, The formidablest man of prowess. So th' emperor Caligula, That triumph'd o'er the British sea, Took crabs and oysters prisoners, And lobsters 'stead of cuirassiers ; Engag'd his legions in fierce bustles, With periwinkles, prawns, and mussels, And led his troops with furious gallops, To charge whole regiments of scallops ; Not like their ancient way of war, To wait on his triumphal car ; But when he went to dine or sup, More bravely ate his captives up, And left all war by his example, Reduc'd to vict'ling of a camp well. Butler. The brave man seeks not popular applause, Nor, overpower 'd with arms, deserts his cause; Unsham'd, though foil'd, he does the best he can, Force is of brutes, but honour is of man. Dryden's Palemon and Arcite. Wnate'ei betides, by destiny 'tis done, And better bear like men, than vainly seek to shun. Dryden's Palemon and Arcite. Be not dismay'd — fear nurses up a danger; And resolution kills it in the birth. Phillips'' s Duke of Gloucester True valour, friends, on virtue founded strong, Meets all events alike. Mallei's Mustapha. The human race are sons of sorrow born ; And each must have his portion. Vulgar minds Refuse or cranch beneath their load : the brave Bear theirs without repining. Mallet and Thomson's Alfred. True valour Lies in the mind, the never-yielding purpose, Nor owns the blind award of giddy fortune. Thomson's Coriolanus. But while hope lives, Let not the generous die. 'T is late before The brave despair. Thomson's Sophonisba. Is there a man, into the lion's den Who dares intrude to snatch his young away ? Thomson's Britannia. To a mind resolved and wise, There is an impotence in misery, Which makes me smile, when all its shafts are in me. Young's Revenge. True fortitude is seen in great exploits That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides % All else is tow'ring, phrenzy and distraction. Addison's Cato. My heart is firm : There 's nought within the compass of humanity But I would dare and do. Sir A. Hunt's Julian. The wise and active conquer difficulties, By daring to attempt them : sloth and folly Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and hazard, And make the impossibility they fear. Rome's Ambitious Step-Mother. True courage scorns To vent her prowess in a storm of words ; And to the valiant action speak alone. SmolleWs Regicide Not to the ensanguin'd field of death alone Is valour limited : she sits serene In the deliberate council, sagely scans The source of action ; weighs, prevents, provides, And scorns to count her glories, from the feats Of brutal force alone. Smollett' 's Regicide The intent and not the deed Is in our power; and therefore who dares greatly Does greatly. Brown's llaibarossa COURAGE. 95 This is true courage, not the brutal force Of vulgar heroes, but the firm resolve Of virtue and of reason. He who thinks Without their aid to shine in deeds of arms, Builds on a sandy basis his renown , A dream, a vapour, or an ague-fit May make a coward of him. WJiitehead's Roman Father. The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational ; But he whose noble soul its fear subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from. As for your youth, whom blood and blows delight, Away with them ! there is not in their crew One valiant spirit. Joanna Baillie's Basil. Rocks have been shaken from their solid base ; But what shall move a firm and dauntless mind ? Joanna Baillie's Basil. I would, God knows, in a poor woodman's hut Have spent my peaceful days, and shar'd my crust With her who would have cheer'd me, rather far Than on this throne ; but being what I am, I'll be it nobly. Joanna Baillie's Constantine Paleologus. Her look compos'd, and steady eye, Bespoke a matchless constancy. Scott's Marmion. My soul hath felt a secret weight, A warning of approaching fate : A priest had said, return, repent ! As well to bid that rock be rent Firm as that flint I face mine end ; My heart may burst, but cannot bend. ScoWs Rokeby. False wizard, avaunt ! I have marshall'd my clan; Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one! They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, And, like reapers, descend to the harvest of death. CampbeWs Lochiel. The minstrel fell ! — but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under ; The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder ; And said " No chains shall sully thee, " Thou soul of love and bravery ! " Thy songs were made for the pure and free, u They shall never sound in slavery !" Moore. A careless thing, who plac'd his choice in chance, Nurst by the legends of his land's romance ; Eager to hope, but not less firm to bear, Acquainted with all feelings, save despair. Byron's Island. A real spirit, Should neither court neglect, nor dread to bear it Byron " You fool ! I tell you no one means you harm " " So much the better," Juan said, " for them," Byron Nor need'st thou doubt this speech from me, Who would but do — what he hath done. Byron's Giaour A spirit yet unquell'd and high That claims and seeks ascendancy. Byron's Giaour Whate'er my fate, I am no changeling — 'tis too late : The reed in storms may bow and quiver, Then rise again ; the tree must shiver. Byron's Siege of Corinth. Have I not had my brain sear'd, my heai t riven, Hopes snapp'd, name blighted, life's life liea away ? And only not to desperation driven, Because not altogether of such clay, As rots into the souls of those whom I survey. Byron's Childe Harold The torture ! you have put me there already, Daily since I was doge ; but if you will Add the corporeal rack, you may : those limbs Will yield with age to crushing iron ; but There 's that within my heart shall strain youi engines. Byron's Doge of Venice. Fate made me what I am — may make me no- thing — But either that or nothing must I be ; I will not live degraded. Byron's Sardanapaius I had a sword — and have a breast That should have won as haught a crest As ever wav'd along the line Of all these sovereign sires of thine. Byron's Parisiva But still he fae'd the shock, Obdurate as a portion of the rock Whereou he stood, and fix'd his levell'd gun, Dark as a sullen cloud before the sun. Byion There is strength Deep bedded in our hearts, of which we recu But little till the shafts of heaven have piere'd Its fragile dwelling. Must not earth be rent Before her gems are found ? Mrs. Hem*n» m COURT. ThirvVst thou there dwells no courage but in breasts That set their mail against the ringing spears, When helmets are struck down? Thou little knowest Of nature's marvels. Mrs. Ilemans. Ah, never shall the land forget How gush'd the life-blood of the brave, Gush'd warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save ! Bryant. Like a mountain lone and bleak, With its sky-encompass'd peak, Thunder riven, Lifting its forehead bare, Through the cold and blighting air, Up to heaven, Is the soul that feels its woe, A.nd is nerv'd to bear the blow. Mrs. Hale's Poems. COURT. Whoso in pompe of prowd estate (quoth she) • Does swim, and bathe himself in courtly bliss, Does waste his dayes in dark obscuritie, A-nd in oblivion ever buried is. Spenser's Fairy Queen. O happy they that never saw the court, Nor ever knew great men but by report. Webster's White Devil. And what are courts but camps of misery ! That do besiege men's states, and still are press'd T' assail, prevent, complot and fortify ; In hope t' attain, in fear to be suppress'd : Where all with shows, and with apparency, Men seem as if for stratagems address'd : Where fortune, as the wolf, doth still prefer The foulest of the train that follows her. Daniel. Our courtiers say, all 's savage, but at court. Experience, O thou disprov'st report. Shake. Cymb. Revolve what tales I have told you ( /f courts, of princes, of the tricks in war : This service is not service, so being done.. But being so allow'd. Shales. Cymb. Virtue must be thrown off, 'tis a coarse garment, Too heavy fo r the sunshine of a court. Dryden's Spanish Friar. *^ourts can give nothing to the wise and good, Kiif worn of pomp, and love of solitude. Young's Love of Fame. And squeeze my hand, and beg me come to-morrow Refusal ! canst thou wear a smoother form ! Young's Night Thoughts, The court 's a golden, but a fatal circle, Upon whose magic skirts a thousand devils In crystal forms sit, tempting innocence, And beckon early virtue from its centre. Lee's Nero Fly from the court 's pernicious neighbourhood ; Where innocence is sham'd, and blushing modesty Is made the scorner's jest; where hate, deceit, And deadly ruin wear the mask of beauty, And draw deluded fools with shows of pleasure. Rome's Jane Shore See there he comes, th' exalted idol comes ! The circle 's form'd, and all his fawning slaves Devoutly bow to earth ; from every mouth The nauseous flattery flows, which he returns With promises which die as soon as born. Vile intercourse, where virtue has no place ! Frown but the monarch, all his glories fade ; He mingles with the throng, outcast, undone, The pageant of a day ; without one friend To soothe his tortur'd mind ; all, all are fled, For though they bask'd in his meridian ray, The insects vanish as his beams decline. Somerville's CItast. Those sculptur'd halls my feet shall never tread, Where varnish'd vice, and vanity, combin'd To dazzle and seduce, their banners spread; And forge vile shackles for the free-born mind. Smollett's Ode to Independence. vain to seek delight in earthly thing ! But most in courts where proud ambition towers ; Deluded wight ! who weens fair peace can spring Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king. Shenstone's School Mistress. Painted for sight and essene'd for the smell, Like frigates fraught with spice and cochineal, Sail in the ladies : how each pirate eyes So weak a vessel and so rich a prize ! Top-gallant he, and she in all her trim, He boarding her, she striking sail to him. Dear countess ! you have charms all hearts to suit } And, sweet sir Topling ! you have so much wit ! Such wits and beauties are not prais'd for nought, For both the beauty and the wit are bought. Pope. 1 was not born for courts, or great affairs ; I pay my debts, believe, and say my. prayers. Pope, There we grow early grey, but never wise ; There form connections, and acquire no friends. Cwper's Task COURTESY -COURTIER. 'T is a fearful spectacle to see So manj maniacs dancing in their chains. They gaze upon the links that hold them fast With eyes of anguish, execrate their lot, Then shake them in despair, and dance again. C owner's Task. There the sycophant, and he That with bare-headed and obsequious bows Begs a warm office, doom'd to a cold jail And groat per diem, if his patron frown. Cowper's Task. Unhappy lot of all that shine at courts ; For forc'd compliance, or for zealous virtue, Still Odious to the monarch, or the people. Dr. Johnson's Irene. Hast thou then liv'd in courts ? Hast thou grown grey Beneath the mask a subtle statesman wears To hide his secret soul, and dost not know That of all fickle fortune's transient gifts, Favour is most deceitful ? Hannah More's Daniel. Fart I. And dwarfs and blacks, and such like things that gain Their bread as ministers and favourites — (that 's To say by degradation) — mingled there As plentiful as in a court or fair. Byron. The thrall and state at the palace gate Are what my spirit has learn'd to hate ; Oh . the hills shall be a home for me, For I 'd leave a throne for the home of the free ! Eliza Cook. COURTESY. El seemes (sayd he) if he so valiant be, That he should be so sterne to stranger wight : For seldom yet did living creature see That courtesie and manhood ever disagree. Spenser's Fairy Queen. A stranger's kindness oft exceeds a friend's. Middleion. What fairer cloak than courtesy for fraud ? Earl of Sierline. Study, with care, politeness, that must teach The modish forms of gesture and of speech : In vain formality with matron mien, And pertness apes with her familiar grin : They against nature for applauses strain, Distort themselves, and give all others pain : She moves with easy though with measur'd pace, And shows no part of study but the grace, StiMngfleet. G Above all things raillery decline, Nature but few does for that task design : 'Tis in the ablest hands a dangerous tool, But never fails to wound the meddling fool ; For all must grant it needs no common art To keep men patient when we make them smart No wit alone, nor humour's self, will do, Without good-nature, and much prudence tor, To judge aright of persons, place and time ; For taste decrees what's low, and what's sublime And what might charm to-day, or o'er a glass, Perhaps at court, or next day, would not pass. StilUngfieet Would you both please and be instructed too, Watch well the rage of shining, to subdue ; Hear every man upon his favourite theme, And ever be more knowing than you seem, The lowest genius will afford some light, Or give a hint that had escaped your sigt. Stilling fleet. This Florentine 's a very saint, so meek And full of courtesy, that he would lend The devil his cloak, and stand i' th' rain himselC Sir W Davenant. All soldiers valour, all divines have grace, As maids of honour beauty, — by their place. Young's Love of Fame Discourse may want an animated No, To brush the surface, and to make it flow ; But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease. Cowper's Conversation. So gently blending courtesy and art That wisdom's lips seem'd borrowing friendship's heart. O. W. Holmes A smile for one of mean degree, A courteous bow for one of high, So modulated both that each Saw friendship in his eye. Henry B. Hirst COURTIER. These can lie, Flatter, and swear, deprave, inform, Smile and betray ; make guilty men ; then beg The forfeit lives to get the livings ; cut Men's throats with whisp'rings; sell to gaping suitors The empty smoke that flies about the palace. Jonson's Sejanu* True courtiers should be modest, and not nice ; Bold, but not impudent ; pleasure love, not vice-. Chapnvr* 9 9S COURTIER. Full little knotvest thou that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide ; To lose good days that might be better spent, To waste long nights in pensive discontent, To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow ; To feed on hope, to pine with fear to-morrow ; To have thy princess' grace, yet want her peers' j To have thy asking yet wait many years ; To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares ; To cat thy heart through comfortless despaircs ; To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to ronnc, To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne, Unhappy wight, born to disastrous end, That dotli his life in so long tendence spend. Spenser's Mother Hubbard's Tale. 'Tis common in such base fellows, such court Spiders, that weave their webs of flattery In the ears of greatness ; if they can once Entangle them in their quaint treachery, They poison them straight. John Dai/s Isle of Gulls. I have been told, that virtue in courtiers' hearts SuiTcrs an ostracism, and departs. Dr. Donne. It is the curse of kings to be attended By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life : And on the winking of authority, To understand a law ; to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance it frowns More upon humour, than advised respect. Shaks. King John. Not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at. Shaks. Cymb. Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favour, dream as I have done ; Wake and find nothing. Shaks. Cymb. The caterpillars of the commonwealth, Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. Shaks. Richard II. I hardly yet have learn'd T' insinuate, flatter, bow and bend my knee. Shaks. Richard II. To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns, To show how much thou art degenerate. Shaks. Henry IV. Part I. I'#t yet I call 3'ou servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd Von liigh engender'd battles, 'gainst a head So oid and white as this. O, oh ! 't is foul. Shaks. Lear. And bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter ; like favourites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it. Shaks. Much ado. Live loath'd and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears. You fools of fortune, trencher friends, time's flics, Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute jacks. Shaks. Timon Others there are, Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves ; And throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd their coats, Do themselves homage : these fellows have some soul; And such a one do I profess myself. Shaks. Othello. All courtiers are a wise man's home, And so are governments to some. Butler's Hudibras. Th' old Romans freedom did bestow, Our princes worship, with a blow ; King Pyrrhus cur'd his splenetic And testy courtiers with a kick. Butler's Hudibras. Those that go up hill, use to bow, Their bodies forward, and stoop low, To poise themselves, and sometimes creep, When th' way is difficult and steep : So those at court, that do address, By low ignoble offices, Can stoop at any thing that 's base, To wriggle into trust and grace, Are like to rise to greatness sooner, Than those that go by worth and honour. Butler's Hudibras. I in no soul-consumption wait Whole years at levees of the great, And hungry hopes regale the while On the spare diet of a smile. Green's Spleen How many men Have spent their blood in their dear country's service, Yet now pine under want ; while selfish slaves, That even would cut their throats whom now they fawn on, Like deadly locusts, eat the honey up, Which those industrious bees so hardly toil'd for Otway's Orplian. COURTIER. 9i See how he sets his countenance for deceit, And promises a lie before he speaks. Dryden's All for Love. He who his prince too blindly does obey, To keep his faith his virtue throws away. Dryden. To mischief bent, He seldom does a good, with good intent, Wayward but wise ; by long experience taught To please both parties, for ill ends, he sought : For this advantage age from youth has won, As not to be out-ridden though outrun. Dryden's Palemon and Arcite. They smile and bow, and hug, and shake the hand, Ev'n while they whisper to the next assistant Some cursed plot to blast its owner's head. Beliefs Injured Innocence. I am no courtier, no fawning dog of state, To lick and kiss the hand that buffets me ; Nor can I smile upon my guest, and praise His stomach, when I know he feeds on poison, And death disguis'd sits grinning at my table. SewelVs Sir Walter Raleigh. 'Tis the curse of kings To be surrounded by a venal herd Of flatterers, that soothe his darling vices, And rob their master of his subjects' love. Brook's Earl of Warwick. 'Tis such pernicious flatterers, Such busy, ready, fawning slaves as thou art, That choke and stifle truth, poison all virtue, And curse mankind with tyrants and oppressors. Ciisp's Virginia. This traitorous wretch Betrays his sovereign ; others, destitute Of real zeal, to every altar bend By lucre sway'd, and act the basest things To be styl'd honourable. Phillips's Cider. Those of fairest front, But equal inhumanity, in courts, Delusive pomp, and dark cabals, delight j Wreath the deep bow, diffuse the lying smile, And tread the weary labyrinth of state. Thomson's Seasons. At the throng'd levee bends the venal tribe : With fair but faithless smiles each varnish' d o'er, Each smooth as those who mutually deceive, And for their falsehood each despising each. Thomson's Liberty. He was no civil ruffian : none of those a G r ho lie with twisted looks, — betray with shrugs. Thomson's Agamemnon. Curse on the coward or perfidious tongue, That dares not ev'n to kings avow the «j uth. Thomson's Agamemnon. What are such wretches ? what but vapours foul, From fens and bogs, by royal beams exhal'd, That radiance intercepting which should cheer The land at large ? Hence subjects' hearts grovr cold, And frozen loyalty forgets to flow. Young's Brothers Men, that would blush at being thought sincere, And feign, for glory, the few faults they want ; That love a lie, where truth would pay as well ; As if to them, vice shone her own reward. Young's Night Thoughts Who wrap destruction up in gentle words, And bows, and smiles more fatal than their swords Who stifle nature and subsist on art : Who coin the face, and petrify the heart : All real kindness for the show discard, As marble polish'd and as marble hard : Who do for gold what Christians do thro' grace, " With open arms their enemies embrace :" Who give a nod when broken hearts repine, " The thinnest food on which a wretch can dine ;*• Or, if they serve you, serve you disinclin'd : And, in their height of kindness, are unkind. Young. A courtier's dependant is a beggar's dog. Shenstone. Purblind to poverty the worldling goes, And scarce sees rags an inch beyond his nose, But from a crowd can single out his grace, And cringe and creep to fools who strut in lace. Churchill. The courtier smooth, who forty years had shin'd An humble servant to all human kind, Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue could stir, " If — where I 'm going — I could serve you sir !" Pope's Moral Essays. At this entranc'd he lifts his hands and eyes, Squeaks like a high-stretch'd lute-string, and re- plies ; "Oh ! 'tis the sweetest of all earthly things, "To gaze on princes, and to talk of kings :" Then happy man who shows the tombs ! said ], He dwells amidst the royal family : He ev'ry day from king to king can walk, Of all our Harries, all our Edwards talk ; And get by speaking truth of monarchs deu.J, What few can of the living — ease and bread i-O r a 100 COURTSHIP. With ngc, wl h cares, with maladies opprcss'd f Ic seeks the refuge of monastic rest ; Grief aids disease, remembcr'd folly stings, And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. Condemn'd a needy suppliant to wait, While ladies interpose and slaves debate. Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. To shake with laughter ere the jest they hear, To pour at will the counterfeited tear ; And, as her patron hints the cold or heat, 1o shake in dog-days, in December sweat. Dr. Johnson's L ondon. A lazy, proud, unprofitable crew, The vermin gendcr'd from the rank corruption Of a luxurious state. Cumberland'' 's Timon of Athens. There is a public mischief in your mirth ; It plagues your country. Folly such as yours Grac'd with a sword, and worthier of a fan, Has made, which enemies could ne'er have done, Our arch of empire, stedfast but for you, A mutilated structure soon to fall. Comperes Task. Ungrateful scoundrels ! eat my rolls and butter, And daring thus their insolence to mutter ! Swallow my turtle and my beef by pounds, And tear my ven'son like a pack of hounds, Yet have the impudence, the brazen face To say I am not fitted for the place. Dr. WolcoVs Peter Pindar. Prepar'd for ev'ry insult, servile train, To take a kicking, and to fawn again. Dr. WolcoVs Peter Pindar. So warily a courtier speaks, They seem to talk with halters round their necks. Dr. WolcoVs Peter Pindar. A toad-eater 's an imp I dont admire ; Nor royal small-talk doth my soul desire ; I've seen my sovereign — that's enough for me. Dr. WolcoVs Peter Pindar. A simple race, they waste their toil, For the vain tribute of a smile. ScotVs Lay of the Last Minstrel. Ves — such was the man and so wretched his fate; And thus, sooner or later, shall all have to grieve, Who waste their morn's dew in the beams of the great, Vnd expect 'twill return to refresh them at eve ! Moore on the Death of Sheridan. A mere court butterfly, That flutter? in the pageant of a monarch. Byron's Sardanapalus. Who toils for nations may be poor indeed, But free ; who sweats for monarchs is no more Than the gilt chamberlain, who, cloth'd and fee'd. Stands sleek and slavish, bowing at his door. Byron's Dantt. He was a cold, good, honourable man, Proud of his birth, and proud of every thing ; A goodly spirit for a state divan, A figure fit to walk before a king ; Tall, stately, form'd to lead the courtly van On birthdays, glorious with a star and string ; The very model of a chamberlain. Byron. And none did love him — though to hall and bower, He gather'd followers from far and near ; He knew them flatterers of the festal hour, The heartless parasites of present cheer. Byron's Cldlde Harold, COURTSHIP. And otherwhyles with amorous delights And pleasing toyes he would her entertaine, Now singing sweetly to surprise her sprights, Now making layes of love and lover's paine, Bransles, ballads, virelayes, and verses vaine I Oft purposes, oft riddles, he devys'd ; And thousands like which flowed in his braine, With which he fed her fancy, and entys'd To take to his new love, and leave her old despys'd Spenser's Fairy Queen, His feeling wordes her feeble sense much pleased, And softly sunk into her molten heart : Heart that is inly hurt is greatly eased With hope of thing that may allegge his smart , For pleasing wordes are like to magick art, That doth the charmed snake in slumber lay. Spenser's Fairy Queen, Imagine with thy Self all are to be won ; otherwise mine Advice were as unnecessary as Thy labour. It is impossible for The brittle mettle of women to withstanu The flattering attempts of men : only this, Let them be ask'd, their sex requires no less ; Their modesties are to be allow'd so much. Lilly's Sappho and Phatm It is your virtue, being men, to try ; And it is ours, by virtue to deny. Drayton A man's a fool If not instructed in a woman's school. Beaumont and Fletcher's Spanish Curate. COURTSHIP. 101 Away, you cashier'd younger brother, be gone : Do not I know the fashions of you all ? When a poor woman has laid open all Her thoughts to you, then you grow proud and coy ; But when wise maids dissemble and keep close, Then you, poor snakes, come creeping on your bellies, And with all oiled looks prostrate yourselves Before our beauty's sun ; where once but warm, Like hateful snakes you strike us with your stings, And then forsake us. Barry. I do not love Much ceremony ; suits in love should not, Like suits in law, be rock'd from term to term. Shirley. There is, sir, a critical minute in Ev'ry man's wooing, when his mistress may Be won, which if he carelessly neglect To prosecute, he may wait long enough Before he gain the like opportunity. MarmyoTis Antiquary. She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd : She is a woman, therefore may be won. Shaks. Titus Andronicus. Tnou hast by moonlight at her window sung, With feigning voice, verses of feigning love ; And stol'n the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gauds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meats ; messengers Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth. Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream. By your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charg'd withal,) I won his daughter with. Shaks. Othello. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs : She swore, — in faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange ; T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful : She wish'd she had not heard it ; yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man ; she thank'd me ; And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Shaks. Othello. f this inducement move her not to love, Send her a letter of thy noble deeds. Shaks. Richard III. What! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father To take her in her heart's extremes! hate ; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; With God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friend to back my suit withal, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing ! Ha! Shales. Richard III. Peace ! thou know'st not gold's effect : Tell me her father's name, and 't is enough ; For I will board her, though she chides as loud As thunder, when the clouds in autumn crack. Shaks. Taming the Shrew Say that she rail : why then I '11 tell her plain, She sings as sweetly as a nightingale : Say, that she frown : I '11 say, she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew : Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word ; Then I '11 commend her volubility, And say — she uttereth piercing eloquence. Shaks. Taming the Shrew. Every night he comes With music of all sorts, and songs composed To her unworthiness : it nothing steads us, To chide him from our eaves, for he persists As if his life lay on't. Shaks. AIVs Well Say that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: Write, till your ink be dry ; and with your tears Moist it again ; and frame some feeling line, That may discover such integrity. Shaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona. But though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not ; And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man; Or, that we women had men's privilege Of speaking first. Shaks. Troilus and Cressida. I '11 make my heaven in a lady's lap, And deck my body in gay ornaments, And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks, Shaks. Hehry VI. Part III Gentle lady, When I did first impart my love to you, I freely told you, all the wealth I had Ban in my veins, I was a gentleman : And then I told you true. Shaks. Merchant of Venice Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces, Tho' ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces, That man that hath a tongue I say is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman Shaks. Tuco Gentlemen of Verona Q* »•"» COURTSHIP. Lf she do frown *t is not in hate of you, Bat rattier to beget more love in you: If she do c uide, 't is not to have you gone ; For why, the fools are mad if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; For — get you gone — she doth not mean — away. Sliaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona. Into these ears of mine, These credulous ears, he pour'd the sweetest words That art or love could frame. Beaumont's Maid's Tragedy. He that will win his dame, must do As iove does when he bends his bow ; With one hand thrust the lady from, And with the other pull her home. Butler's Hudibras. She that with poetry is won, Is but a desk to write upon ; And what men say of her, they mean No more than on the thing they lean. Butler's Hudibras. The knight, perusing this epistle, Believ'd h' had brought her to his whistle : And read it like a jocund lover, With great applause t' himself twice over. Butler's Hudibras. if good heaven would be so much my friend ! To let my fate upon my choice depend, All my remains of life with you I 'd spend, And think my stars had given a happy end. Oldham. When I first Mention'd the business to her all alone, Poor soul she blush'd as if already she Had done some harm by hearing of me speak ; Whilst from her pretty eyes two fountains ran So true, so native, down her fairest cheeks ; As if she thought herself oblig'd to cry, 'Cause all the world was not so good as she. John Fountain's Rewards of Virtue. Like conquering tyrants you our breasts invade, Where you are pleas'd to ravage for a while : But soon you find new conquests out and leave The ravag'd province ruinate and bare. Otway's Orphan. Trust me — with women worth the being won, The softest lover ever best succeeds. Hill's Alzira. 1 am not form'd, by flattery and praise, By sighs and tears, and all the winning trade Of iove, to feed a fair one's vanity ; To charm at once and spoil her. Thomson's Tancred and Sigismunda. Come then, ye virgins, and ye youths, whose hearts Have felt the raptures of refining love ; And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my song ! Form'd by the graces, loveliness itself! Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet, Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul, Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd. Shines lively fancy, and the feeling heart : Oh come ! and while the rosy-footed May Steals blushing on, together let us tread The morning dews, and gather in their prime Fresh blooming flowers to grace thy braided hair And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets. Thomson's Seasons. His folded flock secure, the shepherd home Hies merry-hearted ; and by turns relieves The ruddy milk-maid of her brimming pail ; The beauty whom perhaps his -witless heart, Unknowing what the joy-mix'd anguish means, Sincerely loves, by that best language shown Of cordial glances, and obliging deeds. Thomson's Seasons. Now from the world, Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal, And pour their souls in transport. Thomson's Seasons. She, proud to rule, yet strangely fram'd to tease, Neglects his offers while her airs she plays, Shoots scornful glances from the bended frown, In brisk disorder trips it up and down ; Then hums a careless tune to lay the storm, And sits and blushes, smiles, and yields in form. Parnell's Hesiod From lips like those what precept fail'd to move ? Too soon they taught me, 'twas no sin to love. Pope's Eloisa. Some squire, perhaps you take delight to rack, Whose game is whist, whose treat a toast in sack, Who visits with a gun, presents you birds, Then gives a smacking buss and cries — no words, Or with his hounds comes hallooing from the stable, Makes love with nods and knees beneath the table ; Whose laughs are hearty, though his jests are coarse, And loves you best of all things, — but his horse. Pope. O days remember'd well ! remember'd all ! The bitter sweet, the honey and the gall ; Those garden rambles in the silent night, Those trees so shady, and that moon so bright, That thickset alley by the arbour clos'd, That woodbine seat where we at last repos'd ; And then the hopes that came and then were gone, Quick as the clouds beneath the moon past on. Orabbe. COWARDICE. 103 The lover now beneath the western star, Sighs through the medium of his sweet segar, And fills the ears of some consenting she, With puffs and vows, with smoke and constancy Moore Fondly the wheeling fire-flies flew around her, Those little glitterers of the London night ; But none of these possess'd a sting to wound her — She was a pitch beyond a coxcomb's flight. Byron. Not much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast, Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs ; What careth she for hearts when once possessed ? Do proper homage to thy idol's eyes; But not too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes ; Disguise even tenderness, if thou art wise ; Brisk confidence still best with woman copes ; Pique her and soothe in turn, soon passion crowns thy hopes. Byron's Childe Harold. The gentle pressure, and the thrilling touch, The least glance better understood than words, Which still said all, and ne'er could say too much. Byron. Like a lovely tree She grew to womanhood, and between whiles Rejected several suitors, just to learn How to accept a better in his turn. Byron. Woe to the man who ventures a rebuke ! 'T will but precipitate a situation Extremely disagreeable, but common To calculators when they count on woman. Byron. Learn to win a lady's faith Nobly as the thing is high ; Bravely, as for life and death With a loyal gravity. Lead her from the festive boards, Point her to the starry skies, Guard her by your truthful words, Pure from courtship's flatteries. Miss Barrett's Poems. COWARDICE. Like dastard curres, that having at a bay The savage beast embost in wearie chace, Dare not adventure on the stubborn prey, Ne byte before, but rome from place to place, To get a snatch when turned is his face. Spenser's Fairy Queen. Like peasant foot!' )ys do they keep the walls, And aar» not take up arms like gentlemen. Shaks. Henry VI. Part I. I speak not this as doubting any here : For did I but suspect a doubtful man, He should have leave to go away betimes ; Lest, in our need, he might infect another, And make him of like spiri to himself. If any such be here, as God forbid ! Let him depart, before we need his help. Shaks. Henry VI. Part III Proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart, his passport shall be made, And crowns for convey put into his purse : We would not die in that man's company, That fears his fellowship to die with us. Shaks. Henry V Reproach and everlasting shame Sit mocking in our plumes. Shaks. Henry V. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch ? Death of thy soul those linen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face ? Shaks. Macbeth, Art thou afear'd To be the same in thine own act and valour, As thou art in desire ? wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem ; Letting — I dare not — wait upon — I would ? Shaks. Macbeth. You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat ? Pluto and hell ! All hurt behind ; backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear ! mind, and charge home, Or by the fires of heaven, I leave the foe, And make my wars on you. Shaks. Coriolanus that a mighty man, of such descent, Of such possessions, and so high esteem, Should be infused with so foul a spirit ! Shaks. Taming the Shrew Am I a coward ? Who calls me villain ? breaks my pate across ? Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face ? Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs ? who does me this? Ha ! why, I should take it ; for it cannot be, But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall To make oppression bitter ; or, ere this 1 should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal. Shaks Hamut 104 COWARDS - COXCOMB. That which in mean men we entitle patience, Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. Sliaks. Richard II. The like may of the heart be said ; Courage und terror there arc bred, All those whose hearts arc loose and low, Start, if they hear but the tattoo: And mighty physical their fear is ; For, soon as noise of combat near is, Their heart descending to their breeches, Must give their stomachs cruel twitches, But heroes who o'ercome or die, Have their hearts hung extremely high. Priori Alma. Those that fly may fight again, Which he can never do that's slain. Hence timely running 's no mean part Of conduct, in the martial art, By which some glorious feats achieve, As citizens by breaking thrive, And cannons conquer armies while They seem to draw off and recoil ; Is held the gallant'st course and bravest, To great exploits, as well as safest. That spares th' expense of time and pains, And dangerous beating out of brains ; And in the end, prevails as certain As those that never trust to fortune ; But make their fear do execution Beyond the stoutest resolution. As earthquakes kill without a blow, And only trembling, overthrow. Butler's Hudibras. Go — let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff — not the brand. Byron's Bride of Abydos. Let valiant fools j Brag of their souls ; no matter what they say, ] A coward dares, in ill, do more than they. Shirley's Example All mankind Is one of these two cowards ; Either to wish to die When he should live, or live when he should die. Sir Robert Howard's Blind Lad* Cowards fear to die ; but courage stout, Rather than live in snuff, will he put out. Sir Walter Raleigh on the Snuff of a Candle. Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Shaks. Julius Casar By laws of learned duellists, They that are bruis'd with wood or fists, And think one beating may for once Suffice, are cowards and poltroons : But if they dare engage t' a second, They 're stout and gallant fellows reckon'd. Butler's Hudibras The coward wretch whose hand and heart Can bear to torture aught below, Is ever first to quail and start From slightest pain or equal foe. COWARDS. Whom neither glory or danger can excite, 'T is vain t' attempt with speech ; for the mind's fear Keeps all brave sounds from ent'ring at that ear. Jonson's Catiline. Think not, coward, wit can hide the shame Of hearts; which, while they dare not strike for fear, Would make it virtue in them to forbear. Lord Brooke's Alaham. Fear is my vassal, when I frown he flies ; A hundred times in life a coward dies. Marston's Insatiate Countess. But look for ruin when a coward wins ; For ff.ar and cruelty were ever twins. Aleyn's Poictiers. The coward never on himself relies, But to an equal for assistance flies. • Eliza Cook Crabbe COXCOMB. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd : Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home. Shaks. Henry IV. Part I He was perfum'd like a milliner : And 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose : and still he smil'd and talk'd ; And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly. To bring a slovenly unhandsome corpse Betwixt the wind and his nobility. Shaks. Henry IV. Part I. This is he, That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy ; This is the ape of form, Monsieur the nice, That when he plays at tables, chides the dice In honourable terms. Shaks Lowe's Latmsr CRAFT. 105 Our court, you know, is haunted With a refined traveller of Spain ; A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain ; One, whom the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony ; A man of compliments. Shahs. Love's Labour. I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones Look bleak in the cold wind : withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. Shaks. All 's Well Let me not live, quoth he, After my flame lacks oil, to be the snufF Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain : whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments ; whose constan- cies Expire before their fashions. Shahs. AIVs Well. Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass. Shaks. Richard III. A barren-spirited fellow, one that feeds On objects, arts, and im itations ; Which, out of use, and stall'd by other men, Begin his fashion : do not talk of him, But as a property. Shaks. Julius Casar. All smatterers are more brisk and pert, Than those that understand an art ; As little sparkles shine more bright Than glowing coals that give them light. Butler. A six-foot suckling, mincing in its gait : Affected, peevish, prim, and delicate ; Fearful it seem'd, tho' of athletic make, Lest brutal breezes should too roughly shake Its tender form, and savage motion spread, O'er its pale cheeks, the horrid manly red. ChurchilV8 Rosciad. So by false learning is good sense defae'd : Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs, nature meant but fools. Pope. Nature made ev'ry fop to plague his brother, "•ust as one beauty mortifies another. Pope. My lord advances with majestic mien, tSmit with the mighty pleasure to be seen. Pope's Moral Essays. Sir Plume, (of amber snuff-box justly vain. And the nice conduct of a clouded cane,) With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case. Pope's Rape of the Lock Absence of mind Brabantia turns to fame, Learns to mistake, nor knows his brother's name . Has words and thoughts in nice disorder set, And takes a memorandum to forget. Young's Love of Fame He would not with a peremptory tone, Assert the nose upon his face his own ; With hesitation admirably slow, He humbly hopes, — presumes it may be so. Compels Conversation Knows what he knows as if he knew it not, What he remembers, seems to have forgot. Cowper^s Conversation A graver coxcomb we may sometimes see, Quite as absurd, though not so light as he : A shallow brain behind a serious mask, An oracle within an empty cask, The solemn fop ; significant and budge ; A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge ; He says but little, and that little said Owes all its weight, like loaded dice, to lead. His wit invites you by his looks to come, But when you knock it never is at home. Cowper. Puppies ! who, though on idiotism's dark brink, Because they 've heads dare fancy they can think. Dr. Wolcotfs Peter Pindar. In lovers' parts his passion more to breathe, Having no heart to show, he shows his teeth. Byron, I saw the curl of his waving lash, And the glance of his knowing eye, And I knew the thought he was cutting a dash, As his steed went thundering by, O. W. Holmes. So gentle, yet so brisk, so wondrous sweet, So fit to prattle at a lady's feet. Churchill. Fops take a world of pains To prove that bodies may exist sans brains ; The former so fantastically dress'd, The latter's absence may be safely guess'd. Park Benjamin CRAFT For craft once known, Does teach fools wit ; leaves the dece vers none MiddJetnn 106 CREDULITY -CRITICS AND CRITICISM. For he That sours in craf\ docs reap in jealousy. Middleton. This is the fruit of craft : Like him that shoots up high, looks for the shaft And finds it in his forehead. Middleton. CREDULITY. Your noblest natures are most credulous. Chapman. O credulity, Security's blind nurse, the dream of fools, The drunkard's ape, that feeling for his way, Ev'n when he thinks, in his deluded sense, To snatch at safety, falls without defence. Mason's Mulcasses. Blessed credulity, thou great great god of error, Thou art the strong foundation of huge wrongs, To thee give I my vows and sacrifice ; By thee, great deity, he doth believe Falsehoods, that falsehood's self could not invent ; And from that misbelief doth draw a course T' o'erwhelm e'en virtue, truth and sanctity. Let him go on, blest stars, 't is meet he fall, Whose blindfold judgment nath no guide at all. Machen , 8 Dumb Knight. Generous souls Are still most subject to credulity. Sir W. DavenanVs Albovine. CRITICS AND CRITICISM. Those fierce inquisitors of wit, The critics, spare no flesh that ever writ, But just as toothdraw'rs find among the rout, Their own teeth work in pulling others out, So they, decrying all of all that write, Think to erect a trade of judging by 't. Butler. k. cities to plays for the same end resort, That surgeons wait on trials in a court ; For innocence condemn'd they 've no respect, Provided they 've a body to dissect. Congreve. Till critics blame and judges praise, The poet cannot claim his bays ; On me when dunces are satiric, I take it for a panegyric. Hated by fool: 1 , and fools to ha.e, Pe that my motto, and my fate. Swift. Shall we not censure all the motley train Whether with ale irriguous or champaign? Whether the}' tread the vale of "rose, or climb, And whet their appetites on cliffs of rhyme? The college sloven, or cmbroidcr'd spark ; The purple prelate or the parish clerk ; The quiet quidnunc, or demanding prig ; The plaintiff tory, or defendant whig ; Rich, poor, male, female, young, old, gay, or sad Whether extremely witty, or quite mad ; Profoundly dull, or shallowly polite ; Men that read well or men that only write ; Whether peers, porters, tailors, tune the reeds, And measuring words to measuring shapes suc- ceeds ; For bankrupts write when ruin'd shops are shut; As maggots crawl from out a pcrish'd nut . His hammer this, and that his trowel quits, And wanting sense for tradesmen, serve for wits. Young. What ambitious fools are more to blame Than those who thunder in the critic's name ? Good authors damn'd have their revenge in this, To see what wretches gain the praise they miss. Young. Critics on verse, as squibs on triumphs wait, Proclaim the glory, and augment the state ; Hot, envious, noisy, prouc', the scribbling fry Burn, hiss, and bounce, waste paper, ink, and die. Young Cold-blooded critics, by enervate sires, Scarce hammer'd out, when nature's feebler fires Glimmer'd their last ; whose sluggish blood, half froze, Creeps lab'ring thro' their veins ; whose heax t ne'er glows With fancy-kindled heats : — a servile race, Who in mere want of fault all merit place ; Who blind obedience pay to ancient schools, Bigots to Greece, and slaves to rusty rules. ChurchitL Who shall dispute what the reviewers say ? Their word 's sufficient ; and to ask a reason, In such a state as theirs, is downright treason. Churchill One finds out, — he 's of stature somewhat low — Your hero always should be tall, you know. True natural greatness all consists in height, Produce your voucher, critic — Serjeant Kite. Churchill The coxcomb felt a lash in ev'ry word, And fools, hung out, their brother fools deterr'd. Churchill CROWN. 10" A critic was of old a glorious name, Whose sanction handed merit up to fame ; Reauties as well as faults he brought to view : His judgment great, and great his candour too. No servile rules drew sickly taste aside ; Secure he walked, for nature was his guide. But now, O strange reverse ! our critics bawl In praise of candour with a heart of gall. Conscious of guilt, and fearful of the light ; They lurk enshrouded in the veil of night : Safe from destruction, seize th' unwary prey, And stab, like bravoes, all who come that way. Churchill. Critics I saw, that other names deface, And fix their own, with labour, in their place. Pope's Temple of Fame. Eye nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rise ; Laugh where we must, be candid where we can ; But vindicate the ways of God to man. Pope's Essay on Man. Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer ; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Tust hint a fault, and hesitate dislike. Pope's Epistle to Dr. Arbuihnot. Commentators each dark passage shun, And hold their farthing candle to the sun. Young's Love of Fame. A man must serve his time to ev'ry trade, Save censure ; critics all are ready made, Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote, "With just enough of learning to misquote ; A mind well skill'd to find or forge a fault, A turn for punning, call it Attic salt; To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet, His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet : Fear not to lie, 't will seem a lucky hit ; Shrink not from blasphemy, 't will pass for wit ; Care not for feeling, pass your project jest, And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd. Byron's English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon, A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon, Condemn'd to drudge the meanest of the mean, And furbish falsehoods for a magazine, Devotes to scandal his congenial mind ; Himself a living libel on mankind. Byron's English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff, Believe a woman, or an epitaph, Or any other thing that 's false, before y-^u trust in critics who themselves are sore. Byron's English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Laugh when I laugh, I seek no other fame, The cry is up and scribblers are my game. Byron's English Bards and Scotch Reviewer* Thou shalt not write, in short, but what I choosft . This is true criticism, and you may kiss Exactly as you please, or not, the rod. Byron. For fear some prudish readers should grow skittish, I 've bribed my grandmother's review — the British Byron. His " bravo" was decisive, for that sound Hushed " academic" sighed in silent awe ; The fiddlers trembled as he looked around, For fear of some false note's detected flow. Byron's Beppo. Lords of the quill, whose critical assaults O'erthrow whole quartos with their quires of faults ; Who soon detect and mark where'er we fail, And prove our marble with too nice a nail ! Democritus himself was not so bad ; He only thought, but you would make us mad. Byron. A modern critic is a thing who runs All ways, all risks, to evitiate his duns ; Let but an author ask him home to dine, And lend him money while he gave him wine ; However dull the trash the man might write, Its praise the grateful guest would still endite. Byron. John Keats, who was kill'd off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible, without Greek Contrived to talk about the gods of late, Much as they might have been supposed to speak. Poor fellow ! His was an untoward fate, 'T is strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuff 'd out by an article. Byron, After us all are critics to a man, Write to the mind and heart, and let the ear Glean after what it can. Bailey CROWN". Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow. Being so troublesome a bed-fellow ? O polish' d perturbation ! Golden care ! That keeps the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night ! he sleeps with 't now. Yet not so sound, and half so sweet As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound, Snores out the watch of night. Shahs. Henry IV. Part 'J 108 CRUELTY. Do but think, How severe a thing it is to wear a crown ; Within whose circuit is clysium, And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. Shahs. Henry IV. Part III. Empires to-day are upside down, The castle kneels before the town, The monarch fears a printer's frown, A brickbat's range ; Give me, in preference to a crown, Five shillings change Hallech. CRUELTY. Oft those whose cruelty makes many mourn, Do by the fires which they first kindle burn. Earl of Sterline. No council from our cruel wills can win us, But ills once done, we bear our guilt within us. John Ford's Love's Sacrifice. I must be cruel only to be kind : Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. Shaks. Hamlet. Let me be cruel, not unnatural ; I will speak daggers to her, but use none ; My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites. Shaks. Hamlet. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth ! How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates. Shaks. Henry VI. Part III. O tiger's heart, wrapt in a woman's hide ! How could'st thou drain the life blood of the child ? Shaks. Henry VI. Part III. Thai face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood ; But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, — O ten times more than tigers of Hyrcania. Shaks. Henry VI. Part III. Thou art come to answer A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch Incapable of pity void and empty From ev'ry drachm of mercy. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. Neither bended knees, pure hands held up, had sighs, deep groans, nor silver shedding tears, ''onld penetrate her un compassionate sire. Shaks Two Gentlemen of Verona. Was this a face To be cxpos'd against the warring winds ? To stand against the deep dread bottled thunder In the most terrible and nimble stroke Of quick cross lightning ? mine enemy's dog, Though he had bit me, should have stood that night Against my fire. Shaks. King Lear. Spare not the babe, Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; Think it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse Shaks. Timon. My lord of Winchester, you are a little, By your good favour, too sharp ; men so noble, However faulty, yet should find respect For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty To load a falling man. SJiaks. Henry VIII. Do not insult calamity ; It is a barbarous grossness to lay on The weight of scorn, where heavy misery Too much already weighs men's fortunes down. Daniel's Philotas. O barbarous men ! your cruel breasts assuage, Why vent ye on the generous steed your rage ? Does not his service earn your daily bread ? Your wives, your children, by his labours fed ! If, as the Samian taught, the soul revives, And shifting seats in other bodies lives ; Severe shall be the brutal coachman's change, Doom'd in a hackney horse the town to range ; Car-men transformed, the groaning load shall draw, Whom other tyrants with the lash shall awe. Gay's Trivia O breasts of pity void ! t' oppress the weak, To point your vengeance at the friendless head, And with one mutual cry insult the fallen ! Emblem too just of man's degenerate race. Sojnerville''s Chase. Villain, abhorred villain ! Hath he not push'd me to extremity ? Are these wild limbs, these scarr'd and scathed limbs, This wasted frame, a mark for human malice ? There have been those who from the high bark's side Have whelm'd their enemy in the flashing deep ; But who have watch'd to see his struggling hands, To hear the sob of death ? Maturin's Btrtram, CURIOSITY -CURSES. 10 l « I would not enter on my list of friends (Though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine sense, Yet wanting- sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path, But he that has humanity, forewarn'd, Will tread aside and let the reptile live. Cowper's Task. Thou fairest flower, Why didst thou fling thyself across my path ? My tiger spring must crush thee in its way, But cannot pause to pity thee. Ma twin's Bertram. Cruel of heart, and strong of arm, Loud in his sport, and keen for spoil, He little reck'd of good or harm, Fierce both in mirth and toil ; Yet like a dog could fawn, if need there were; Speak mildly, when he would, or look in fear. Dana's Buccaneer. CURIOSITY. The over curious are not over wise. Masstnger. He who would pry Behind the scenes oft sees a counterfeit Dryden. Conceal yersel' as weel 's ye can Fra' critical dissection ; But keek thro' every other man With lengthen'd, sly inspection. Burns. Eve, With all the fruits of Eden blest, Save only one, rather than leave That one unknown lost all the rest. Moore. I loathe that low vice, Curiosity. Byron. — Curiosity ! who hath not felt Its spirit, and before its altar knelt ? Sprague's Curiosity. How many a noble art, now widely known, Owes its young impulse to this power alone ! Sprague. What boots it to your dust, your son were born An empire's idol or a rabble's scorn ? Think ye the franchis'd spirit shall return, To share his triumph, his disgrace to mourn ? Ah, curiosity ! by thee inspir'd This truth to know how oft has man enquir'd ! Sprague. Faith we may boast, undarken'd by a doubt, We thirst to find each awful secret out. Sprague The enquiring spirit will not be controll'd, We would make certain all, and all behold. Sprague. The curious questioning eye, That plucks the heart of every mystery. Grenville Mellen CURSES. But curses are like arrows shot upright, That oftentimes on our own heads do light ; And many times ourselves in rage prove worst ; The fox ne'er better thrives, but when accurst. Valiant Welshman, I do not wish them Egypt's plagues, but e'en As bad as they: I'll add unto them seven. I wish not grasshoppers, frogs, and lice come down, But clouds of moths in ev'ry shop i' th' town. Then, honest devil to their ink convey Some aqua fortis, that may eat away Their books. Randolph. I could Accuse my unkind destiny ; declaim Against the pow'r of love ; rail at the charms Of language and proportion, that betray us To hasty sorrow and too late repentance ; But breath is this way lost. Shirley's Love's Cruelty All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse him. Shaks. Tempest As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven feathers from unwholesome fen, Drop on you both ! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er ! Shaks. Tempest. If heaven have any grievous plagues in store, Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, O let them keep it till thy sins be ripe, And then hurl down their indignation On thee, the trouble of the poor world's peace : Shaks. Ricnard III If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view ; And that be heir to his unhappiness. Shaks Richard II i 10 110 CURSES. Take with thee thy most heavy curse ; Which in the day of battle tire thee more, Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st ! Shaks. Richard III. The worm of conscience still bc-gnaw thy soul ! Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st, And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends ! No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, Unless it be while some tormenting dream Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils ! Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog ! Shales. Richard II. Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursed in the calendar ! Shaks. Macbeth. May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode ! But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks,or hang yourselves. Shaks. Henry VI. Part I. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish ! Shales. Coriolanus. All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome ! you herd of Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er ; that you may be abhorred Further than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile ! Shaks. Coriolanus. If he say so, may his pernicious soul Rot half a grain a day ! — he lies to the heart. Shaks. Othello. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornful eyes ! — Infect her beauty, You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, To fall and blast her pride! Shaks. King Lear. Feed not thy sovereign's foe, thou gentle earth, Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav'nous sense : But let thy spiders that suck up thy venom, And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way. Shaks. Richard II. Piety and fear, Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, Domestic awe, night-rest and neighbourhood, Instruction, manners, mysteries and trades, Degrees, observances, customs and laws, Decline to your confounding contraries, And yet confusion live ! — Plagues incident to men Your potent and infectious fevers heap On Athens ripe for stroke ! Shaks. Timon. A plague upon them ! wherefore should I curao them ? Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Dclivcr'd strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-fae'd Envy in her loathsome cave. My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words, Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint, Mine hair be fixed on end like one distract — Ay, ev'ry joint should seem to curse and ban, And even now my burden'd heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink 1 Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat they taste t Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees ! Their choicest prospects murd'ring basilisks ! Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings ! Their music frightful as the serpents' hiss! And boding screech-owls make the concert full ! Shaks. Henry VI. Part II Oh ! I will curse thee till thy frighted soul Runs mad with horror. Zee's C&sar Borgia, May sorrow, shame, and sickness overtake her, And all her beauties, like my hopes, be blasted. Rowe's Royal Convert Plagues and palsy, Disease and pestilence consume the robber, Infest his blood, and wither ev'ry pow'r. Brown's Athelstan I curse thee not ! For who can better curse the plague or devil, Than to be what they are : that curse be thine. Dryden's Don Sebastian. Ruin seize thee, ruthless king ! Confusion on thy banners wait, Though fann'd by conquest's crimson wing They mock the air with idle state. Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail, Nor e'en thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears. Gray's Bard. May curses blast thy arm ! may iEtna's fires Convulse the land ; to its foundation shake The groaning isle. May civil discord beai Her flaming brand thro' all the realms of Greece And the whole race expire in pangs like mine. Murphy'' s Grecian Daughter But no, I will not curse them : thro' the world A curse will follow them, like the black plague, Tracking their footsteps ever, — day and night, Morning and eve, summer and winter — evr ;r . Proctor's Mi ra ndola* CUSTOM. Ill Go, virtuous dame, to thy most happy lord, And Bertram's image taint your kiss with poison. Maturin's Bertram. Blast, blast her charms, some bloom-destroying air ! And turn his love to loathing ; but let her's Know no decrease, that disappointment, Lover's worst hell, may meet her warmest wishes, And make her curse the hour in which she wedded. Elizabeth Hayicood's Duke of Brunswick. May the swords And wings of fiery cherubim pursue him, By day and night — snakes spring up in his path — Earth's fruit be ashes in his mouth — the leaves On which he lays his head to sleep be strew'd With scorpions ! may his dreams be of his victim, His waking a continual dread of death ! Byron's Cain, May the grass wither from thy feet ! the woods Deny thee shelter ! earth a home ! the dust A grave ! the sun his light ! and heaven her God. Byron's Cain. By thy cold breast and serpent smile, By thy unfathom'd gulfs of guile, By that most seeming virtuous eye, By that shut soul's hypocrisy, By the perfection of thine art Which pass'd for human thine own heart, By the delight in others' pain, And by thy brotherhood of Cain, I call upon thee and compel Thyself to be thy proper hell. Byron's Manfred. Cursed be the social wants That sin against the strength of youth, Cursed be the social lies That warp us from the living truth ! Cursed be the sickly forms That err from honest nature's rule ! And cursed be the gold that gilds The straighten'd forehead of a fool ! Tennyson. A curse is like a cloud — it passes. Bailey. He turns and curses in his wrath Both man and child ; then hastes away Shoreward, or takes some gloomy path ; But there he cannot stay ; Terror and darkness drive him back to men ; His hate of man to solitude again. Dana's Buccaneer. CUSTOM. Custom in course of honour, ever errs : And they are best, whom fortune least prefers. Jonson's Poetaster. Custom in ills that do affect the sense, Make reason useless when it should direct The ills reforming : men habituate In any evil, 'tis their greatest curse : Advice doth seldom mend, but makes them worse Nabb's Microcosmu* 'Tis base, And argues a low spirit, to be taught By custom, and to let the vulgar grow To our example. Mead's Combat of Love and Friendship That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat Of habits evil, is angel yet in this ; That to the use of actions fair and good, He likewise gives a frock, or livery, That aptly is put on : refrain to-night ; And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence ; the next, more easy ; For use can almost change the stamp of nature, And master ev'n the devil, or throw him out, With wondrous potency. Shaks. Hamlet. But to my mind ; — though I am native here, And to the manner born, — it is a custom More honour'd in tire breach, than the observance. Shaks. Hamlet. The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down. Shaks. Othello. Thou, nature, art my goddess ; to thy law My services are bound ; wherefore should I Stand to the plague of custom. Shaks. Lear Custom's the world's great idol we adore, And knowing this, we seek to know no more What education did at first conceive, Our ripen'd eye confirms us to believe. The careful nurse, and priest, are all we need, To learn opinions, and our country's creed. The parents' precepts early are instill'd, And spoil the man, while they instruct the child. John Pomfret Custom does often reason overrule, And only serves for reason to the fool. Rochester Custom forms us all , Our thoughts, our morals, our most fix'd belief Are consequences of our place of birth. HilTs Zaia. Custom, 't is true, a venerable tyrant, O'er servile man extends her blind dominion. Thomson's Tancrea ana SigismuncUi 112 DANCING -DANDY. Such dupes are men to custom, and so prone To icv'rcncc what is ancient, and can plead A course of long observance for its use, That even servitude, the worst of ills, Because dclivcr'd down from sire to son, Is kept and guarded as a sacred thing. Cowper^s Task. Man yields to custom as he bows to fate, In all things ruled — mind, body and estate; In pain, in sickness, wc for cure apply To them we know not, and we know not why. Crahbe. Habit with him was all the test of truth, • It must be right : I' vc done it from my youth." Crabbe. DANCING. Dear creature ! you'd swear, When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round, That her steps are of light, that her home is the air, And she only, "par complaisance" touches the ground. Moore's Fudge Family. How sweetly Marian sweeps along ! Her step is music, and her voice is song. Silver-sandall'd foot ! how blest To bear the breathing heaven above, Which on thee, Atlas-like, doth rest, And round thee move. Bailey. Such a dancer ! Where men have souls or bodies she must answer. Byron. And then he danced — all foreigners excel The serious Angles in the eloquence Of pantomime ; — he danced, I say, right well, With emphasis, and also with good sense — A thing in footing indispensable : He danced without theatrical pretence, Not like a ballet-master in the van Of his drill' d nymphs, but like a gentleman. Byron. Chaste were his steps, each kept within due bound, And elegance was sprinlded o'er his figure ; Like swift Camilla, he scarce skimm'd the ground, And rather held in than put forth his vigour. And then he had an ear for music's sound, Which might defy a crotchet critic's rigour. Such classic pas — sans flaws — set off our hero, He glanced like a personified Bolero. Byron's Childe Harold. A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell. Byron's Childe Harold. What ! the girl I adore by another embraced ! What ! the balm of her lips shall another man taste What ! touch'd in the twirl by another man's knee . What ! pant and recline on another than me ! Sir ! she 's yours ! From the grape you have press'd the soft blue ! From the rose you have shaken the tremulous dew ! What you've touch'd, you may take ! Pretty waltzcr, adieu !" Byron. I gaz'd upon the dance, where ladies hight Were moving in the light Of mirrors and of lamps. With music and with flowers, Danced on the joyous hours ; And fairest bosoms Hcav'd happily beneath the winter roses' blossoms: And it is well ; Youth hath its time, Merry hearts will merrily chime. C. P. Cranch. I saw her at a country ball ; There when the sound of flute and fiddle Gave signal sweet in that old hall, Of hands across and down the middle. Hers was the subtlest spell by far Of all that sets young hearts romancing ; She was our queen, our rose, our star ; And when she danced — oh, heaven, her dancing ! Praed I love to go and mingle with the young In the gay festal room — when every heart Is beating faster than the merry tune, And their blue eyes are restless, and their lips Parted with eager joy, and their round cheeks Flush'd with the beautiful motion of the dance. Willis DANDY. Ev'ry morning does This fellow put himself upon the rack, With putting on j apparel, and manfully Endures his taylor, when he screws and wrests His body into the fashion of His doublet. Shii-ley's Bird in a Cage. The boot pinched hard — the suffering dandy sighed ! Jane fondly thought the sigh her beauty's due ; " Bootless your passion, Sir !" she proudly cried, " Ah !" sighed the fop, " would I were bootless too !" Mrs. Osgood. Oh ! save me, ye powers, from these pinks of the nation, These tea-table heroes ! these lords of creation. Salmagundi DANGER -DEATH. 113 DANGER. The absen* danger greater still appears ; Less fears he, who is near the thing he fears. DanieVs Cleopatra. Speak, speak, let terror strike slaves mute, Much danger makes great hearts most resolute. Mar Stan's Sophonisba. What is danger More than the weakness of our apprehensions ? A poor cold part o' th' blood ; who takes it hold of? Cowards and wicked livers : valiant minds Were made the masters of it. Beaumont and Fletcher's Chances. Our dangers and delights are near allies ; From the same stem the rose and prickle rise. AlyerCs Poictiers. Danger knows full well, That Csesar is more dangerous than he : We are two lions litter'd in one day, And I the elder and more terrible. Shaks. Julius Casar. Now I will unclasp a secret book, And to ) 7 our quick-conceiving discontents I '11 read you matter deep and dangerous ; As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit, As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud, On the unsteadfast footing of a spear ! Shaks. Henry IV. Part I. He that stands upon a slippery place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. Shaks. King John. Thus have I shunn'd the fire, for fear of burning ; And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd. Shaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it, She '11 close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. Shaks. Macbeth. Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell ! I took thee for thy better ; t ke thy fortune : Thou find'st, to be too busy, is some danger. Shaks. Hamlet. Then mounte ! then mounte, brave gallants, all, And don your helmes amaine : Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honor, call Us to the field againe. Motherwell. New, g allant Saxon ! hold thy own ; /eary o" the sun, And wish the eotate o' »he world were now undone. Shaks. Macbeth. I pull in resolution : and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, That lies like truth. Shaks. Macbeth. They have ty'd me to a stake ; I cannot fly, But bear-like, I must fight the course. Shaks. Macbeth. I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incens'd, that I am reckless what I do to spite the world. Shaks. Macbeth. And I another, So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance To mend it, or be rid on 't. Sliaks. Macbeth. O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night dispunge upon me ; That life, a very rebel to my will, May hang no longer on me. Shaks. Antony and Cleopatra. O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more : Fortune and Antony part here ; even here Do we shake hands. — All come to this ? — The hearts That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets On blossoming CaBsar ; and this pine is bark'd That overtopp'd them all. Shaks. Antony and Cleopatra. There 's nothing in this world can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. Shaks. King John. Beyond the infinite and boundless reach Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, Art thou damn'd. Shaks. King John. If thou didst but consent To this most cruel act, do but despair, And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread That ever spider twisted from her womb Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be a beam To hang thee on ; or, would'st thou diown thyself, Put a little water in a spoon, And it snail be as all the ocean, Enough to stifle such a villain up. Shaks. King John. Let order die, And let this world no longer be a stage, To feed contention in a lingering act : But let one spirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bosoms ; that, each heart being set On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead ! Shaks. Henry IV. Pari II For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea ; Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious surge Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. Shaks. Titus Andronicus. Thus roving on In oonfus'd march forlorn, th' advent'rous bands With shuddering horror pale, and eyes agnast, View'd their lamentable lot, and found No rest. Milton's Paradise Lost. All sat mute, Pond'ring the danger with deep thoughts ; and each In other's count'nance read his own dismay Astonish'd. Milton's Paradise Lost So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, Farewell remorse ; all good to me is lost ; Evil, be thou my good. Milton's Paradise Lost. Horror and doubt distract His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir The hell within him ; for within him hell He brings, and round about him, nor from hell One step no more than from himself can fly By change of place. Milton's Paradise Lost, Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. Milton's Paradise Lost With what delight could I have walk'd the round If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange Of hill and valley, rivers, woods and plains, ! Now land, now sea, and shores with forests crown'd I Rocks, dens and caves ; but I in none of these Find place or refuge ; and the more I see Pleasures about me, so much more I feel Torment within me, as from the hateful siege Of contraries. Milter, » Paradise Lost DESPAIR. 135 There They him laid Gnashing- for anguish, and despite and shame, To find himself not matchless, and his pride Humbled by such rebuke. Milton's Paradise Lost. All hope is lost Of my reception into grace ; what worse, For where no hope is left, is left no fear. Milton's Paradise Regained. Consider how the desperate fight ; Despair strikes wild, — but often fatal too — And in the mad encounter wins success. Havard's Regulus. All judging heav'n, Was there no bolt, no punishment above ? — No, none is equal to despairing love : Hell loudly owns it, and the damn'd themselves Smile to behold a wretch more curs'd than they. Havard's Scanderbeg. My loss is such as cannot be repair'd ; And to the wretched, life can be no mercy. Dryden's Marriage a la Mode. Tell me why, good heaven, Thou mad'st me what I am, with all the spirit, Aspiring thoughts and elegant desires, That fill the happiest man ? Ah ! rather, why Did'st thou not form me sordid as my fate, Base-minded, dull and fit to carry burdens ? Why have I sense to know the curse that 's on me ? Is this just dealing, nature ? Otway's Venice Preserved. Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills ; I will indulge my sorrows, and give way To all the pangs and fury of despair. Addison's Cato. O Lucius, I am sick of this bad world ! The day-light and the sun grow painful to me. Addison's Cato. Methinks we stand on ruin ; nature shakes About us ; and the universal frame 's So loose, that it but wants another push To leap from its hinges. Lee's QZdipus. What miracle Can work me into hope ! Heav'n here is bankrupt, The wond'ring gods blush at the want of power, And quite abash'd confess they cannot help me. Lee's Mithridates. Curs'd fate ! malicious stars ! you now have drain'd Yourselves of all your poisonous influence ; Ev'n the last baleful drop is shed upon me ! Lee's Mithridates. Let her rave, And prophesy ten thousand thousand horrors ; I could join with her now, and bid 'em come ; They fit the present fury of my soul. The stings of love and rage are fix'd within, And drive me on to madness. Earthquakes, whir winds, A general wreck of nature now would please me Rome's Royal Convert Whether first nature, or long want of peace, Has wrought my mind to this, I cannot tell ; But horrors now are not displeasing to me ; I like this rocking of the battlements. Rage on, ye winds ; burst clouds, and waters roar ' You bear a just resemblance of my fortune, And suit the gloomy habit of my soul ! Young's Revenge. Why let them come : let in the raging torrent: I wish the world would rise in arms against me ; For I must die ; and I would die in state. Young's Busiris Creation sleeps ; 't is as the general pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause — An awful pause ! prophetic of her end, And let her prophecy be soon fulfill' d ; Fate ! drop the curtain ; I can lose no more. Young's Night Thoughts From short (as usual) and disturb'd repose, I wake ; how happy they that wake no more ! Yet that were vain, if dreams infect the grave. I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams Tumultuous; where my wreck'd desponding thought, From wave to wave of fancy'd misery, At random drove, her helm of reason lost. Tho' now restor'd, 'tis only change of pain, (A bitter change !) severer for severe. The day too short for my distress ; and night, Ev'n in the zenith of her dark domain, Is sunshine to the colour of my fate. Young's Night Thoughts With woful measures wan despair — Low sullen sounds his grief beguil'd ; A solemn, strange, and mingled air I 'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild. Collins's Passions When desperate ills demand a speedy cure, Distrust is cowardice, and prudence folly. Dr. Johnson's Irene But dreadful is their doom whom doubt has driven To censure fate, and pious hope forego : Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven, Perfection, beauty, life, they never know, But frown on all that pass, a monument of wu. Bmttie's Minsirri 136 DESPAIR. Mine after ifo ! what is mine after-life ! My day is closed ! the gioom of night is come ! A hopeless darkness settles o'er my fate. Joanna Baillie's Basil. Welcome rough war ! with all thy scenes of blood ; Thy roaring thunders, and thy dashing steel ! Welcome once more ! what have I now to do But play the brave man o'er again, and die ! Joanna Baillie's Basil. I3c it what it may, or bliss or torment, Annihilation, dark, and endless rest, Or some dread tiling, man's wildest range of thought Hath never yet conceived, that change I '11 dare Which makes me any thing but what I am. Joanna Baillie's Basil. I would have time turn'd backward in his course, And what is past ne'er to have been : myself A thing that no existence ever had. Canst thou do this for me ? Joanna Baillie^s Rayner. that I were upon some desert coast ! Where howling tempests and the lashing tide Would stun me into deep and senseless quiet. Joanna Baillie''s De Montford. Come, madness ! come unto me, senseless death ! 1 cannot suffer this ! here, rocky wall, Scatter these brains, or dull them ! Joanna BaUUe^s De Montford. O that I had been form'd An idiot from the birth ! a senseless changeling, Who eats his glutton's meals with greed} 7 haste, Nor knows the hand who feeds him ! Joanna BaUUe's De Montford. He hangs upon me like a dead man's grasp On the wreck'd swimmer's neck. Joanna Baillie's Eihwald. Full many a storm on this grey head has beat ; And now, on my high station do I stand, Like the tired watchman in his rocked tower, Who looketh for the hour of his release. I 'm sick of worldly broils, and fain would rest With tnose who w r ar no more. Joanna Baillie's Eihwald. O night, when good men rest, and infants sleep ! Thou art to me no season of repose, But a fear'd time of waking more intense, Of life more keen, of misery more palpable. Joanna Baillie's Eihwald. Hie fountain of my heart dried up within me, — With nought that ioved me, and with nought to lovo, ' »tood uoon .ne desert earth alone. Maturing Bertram. Thou sayest I am a wretch — And thou sayest true — these weeds do witness it — These wave-worn weeds — these bare and bruised limbs. What would'st thou more ? I shrink not from the question. I am a wretch, and proud of wretchedness, 'T is the sole earthly thing that cleaves to me. Maturin's Bertram. The wretched have no country ; that dear name Comprises home, kind kindred, fostering friends, Protecting laws, all that binds man to man — But none of these are mine ; — I have no country- And for my race, the last dread trump shall wake The sheeted relics of mine ancestry, Ere trump of herald to the armed lists, In the bright blazon of their stainless coats Calls their lost child again. Maturin's Bertram. And in that deep and utter agony, Though then, than ever most unfit to die, I fell upon my knees and pray'd for death. Maturings Bertram. The storm for Bertram ! — and it hath been with me, Dealt with me branch and bole, bared me to th' roots, And where the next wave bears my perish'd trunk In its dread lapse, I neither know nor reck of. Maturing Bertram Is there no forest, Whose shades are dark enough to shelter us ; Or cavern rifted by the perilous lightning, Where we must grapple with the tenanting wolf To earn our bloody lair ? — there let us bide, Nor hear the voice of man nor call of heaven. Maturin's Bertram. Behold me, earth ! what is the life he hunts for ? Come to my cave, thou human hunter, come ; For thou hast left thy prey no other lair, But the bleak rock, or howling wilderness ; Cheer up thy pack of fanged and fleshed hounds, Flash all the flames of hell upon its darkness, Then enter if thou darest. Lo, there the bruised serpent coils to sting thee, Yea, spend his life upon the mortal throe. Maturin's Bertram. To be thus — Grey hair'd with anguish, like these blasted pines, Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless, A blighted trunk upon a cursed root, Which but supplies a feeling to decay — And to be thus, — eternally but thus, Having been otherwise ! now furrow'd oSr With wrinkles plough'd by moments, not by years ; DESPAIR. 137 And hours — all tortured into ages — hours Which I outlive ! ye topling crags of ice ! Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down In mountainous o'erwhelming, come and crush me ! I hear ye momently above, beneath, Crash with a frequent conflict ; but ye pass, And only fall on things that still would live. Byron's Manfred. I have no dread, And feel the curse to have no natural fear, Nor fluttering throb, that beats with hopes or wishes, Or lurking love of something on the earth. Byron's Manfred, My mother earth ! And thou fresh breaking day, and you, ye moun- tains ! Why are ye beautiful ? I cannot love ye ! And thou the bright eye of the universe, That openest over all, and unto all Art a delight — thou shin'st not on my heart! Byron' 1 s Manfred. Think'st thou existence doth depend on time ? It doth ; but actions are our epochs : mine Have made my days and nights imperishable, Endless and all alike, as sands on the shore, Innumerable atoms ; and one desert, Barren and cold, on which the wild waves break, But nothing rests save carcasses and wrecks, Rocks and the salt surf weeds of bitterness. Byrtn's Manfred. Look on me in my sleep, Or watch my watchings — come and sit by me ! My solitude is solitude no more, But peopled with the furies ; — I have gnash'd My teeth in darkness till returning morn, Then cursed myself till sunset; — I have pray'd For madness as a blessing — 'tis denied me. Byron's Manfred. They who have nothing more to fear may well Indulge a smile at that which once appall'd ; As children at discover'd bugbears. Byron's Sardanapalus. Who thundering comes on blackest steed ? With slacken'd bit and hoof of speed ; Beneath the clattering iron's sound, The cavern'd echoes wake around In lash for lash, and bound for bound ; The foam that streaks the courser's side, Seems gather'd from the ocean-tide ; Though weary waves are sunk to rest, There 's none within his rider's breast, And though to-morrow's tempest lower, 'T is calmer man thy heart, young Giaour ! Byron's Giaour. But once I saw that face — yet then It was so mark'd with inward pain I could not pass it by again ; It breathes the same dark spirit now, As death were stamp'd upon his brow. Byron's G'uzov. But talk no more of penitence -, Thou see'st I soon shall part from hence And if thy holy talk were true, The deed that 's done canst thou undo ? Think me not thankless — but this grief Looks not to priesthood for relief. Byron' 8 Giaour. Waste not thine orison, despair Is mightier than thy pious prayer : I would not, if I might, be blest, I want no paradise but rest. Byron's Giaour Go, when the hunter's hand hath wrung From forest-cave her shriekjjng young, And calm the lonely lioness : But soothe not — mock not my distress. Byron's Giacur. Beside the jutting rock the few appear'd, Like the last remnant of the red-deer's herd; Their eyes were feverish, and their aspect worn, But still the hunter's blood was on their horn. Byron's Island Loud sung the wind above ; and doubly loud, Shook o'er his turret cell the thunder cloud ; And flash'd the lightning by the latticed bar, To him more genial than the midnight star : Close to the glimmering grate he dragg'd his chain, And hoped that peril might not prove in vain. He raised his iron hand to heaven, and pray'd One pitying flash to mar the form it made : His steel and impious prayer attract alike — The storm roll'd onward, and disdain'd to strike ; Its peal wax'd fainter — ceased — he felt alone, As if some faithless friend had spum'd his groan. Byron's Corsair. One fatal remembrance, one sorrow which throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes : To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring. For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting . Moure. Beware of desperate steps ! — the darkest day, Live till to-morrow, will have pass'd away. Coicpei. Like one within a charnel cast, I hear but dirges ringing for the deaa — Walk all the time with hand in hand of Death ' Mrs. E. Oakes Smith 12* 138 bi!,SPONDENC Y - DETERMINATION - DETRACTION - DEW. DESPONDENCY. The recollection of one upward hour Ilatli more in it to tranquillize and cheer The uaiKncss of despondency, than years Of gayety and pleasure. Percivat. My heart is very tired — my strength is low — My hands are full of blossoms pluck'd before, Held dead within them till myself shall die. Miss Barrett. It may be that I shall forget my grief; It may be time has good in store for me ; It may be that my heart will find relief From sources now unknown. Futurity May bear within its folds some hidden spring From which will issue blessed streams ; and yet Whate'er of joy the coming year may bring, The past — the past — I never can forget. Mrs. Hale. And if despondency weigh down Thy spirit's fluttering pinions, then Despair — thy name is written on The roll of common men. HallecWs Poems. .No thought within her bosom stirs, But wakes some feeling dark and dread ; God keep thee from a doom like hers, Of living when the hopes are dead. Phoebe Carey. DESTINY. — (See Fate.) DESTRUCTION.— (See Ruins.) DETERMINATION. Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed ; For what I will, I will, and there 's an end. Shaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona. Although The air ul paradise did fan the house, And angels offie'd all : I will begone. Shales. All's Well Bear my greeting to the senators, And tell them that I will not come to-day ; Cannot, is false ; and that I dare not, falser ; 1 will not come to-day : tell them so, Decius. Shaks. Julius Casar. I '11 speaK to it, though hell itself should gape, And bid me hold my peace. Shaks. Hamlet. I have given suck ; and know How tender 't is to love the babe that milks me I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from its boneless gums. And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn As you have done to this. SJiaks. Macbeth I said to Sorrow's awful storm, That beat against my breast, Rage on — thou may'st destroy this form, And lay it low at rest ; But still the spirit that now brooks Thy tempest raging high, Undaunted on its fury looks, With steadfast eye. Mrs. Stoddard. DETRACTION. 'T is not the wholesome sharp morality, Or modest anger of a satiric spirit, That hurts or wounds the body of a state ; But the sinister application Of the malicious, ignorant, and base Interpreter ; who will distort, and strain The gen'ral scope and purpose of an author, To his particular and private spleen. Jonson's Poetasiet. Who stabs my name, would stab my person too, Did not the hangman's axe lie in the way. Crown's Henry VII. Happy are they that hear their detractions, And can put them to mending. Shaks. Much ado. Detraction 's a bold monster, and fears not To wound the fame of princes, if it find But any blemish in their lives to work on. Massinger. To you I shall no trophy raise From other men's detraction or dispraise : That jewel never had inherent worth, Which ask'd such foils as these to set it forth. Bishop King DEW. And that same dew, which sometimes on the buds Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flow'rets' eyes, Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail. Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream. I must go seek some dew-drops aere, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. Shaks. Midsummer NighVs Dream. DEVOTION-DIGNITY-DINNER-DISAPPOINTMENT-DlSCONTENT. 13k The starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse, Deep into nature's breast, the spirit of her hues. Byron. Within these leaves the holy dew That falls from heaven, hath won anew A glory — in declining. Miss Barrett. Oh dew, thou droppest soft below And platest all the ground ; Yet wnen the noontide comes, I know Tli m never cans't be found. Maria Lowell. DEVOTION. One grain of incense with devotion offer'd, 'S beyond all perfumes or Sabaean spices, By one that proudly thinks he merits it. Massinger's Bashful Loner. The immortal gods Accept the meanest altars that are raised By pure devotion ; and sometimes prefer An ounce of frankincense, honey, or milk, Before whole hecatombs of Sabaean gems, Offer'd in ostentation. Massinger. The hand is rais'd, the pledge is given, One monarch to obey, one creed to own, That monarch, God ; that creed, His word alone. Sprague. Like earth, awake, and warm, and bright With joy the spirit moves and burns ; So up to thee ! O Fount of Light ! Our light returns. John Sterling. DIGNITY. I know myself now, and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities ; A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me, I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders, These ruin'd pillars, out of pity ta'en A load would sink a navy, too much honour. O 't is a burden, Cromwell, 't is a burden, Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven ! Shahs. Henry VIII. Where ambition of place goes before fiiness Of birth, contempt and disgrace follow. Chapman. Great honours are great burdens : but, on whom They 're cast with envy, he doth bear two loads His cares must still be double to his joys, In any dignity ; where, if he err, He finds no pardon ; and, for doing well, A most small praise, and that wrung out by forco Jonson's Calilim True dignity is never gained by place, And never lost when honours are withdrawn. Massinger DINNER. — (See Feasting.) DISAPPOINTMENT. — (See Grief.) DISCONTENT. O thoughts of men accurs'd ! Past and to come, seem best ; things present, worst Shaks. Henry IV. Part II. Happiness courts thee in her best array ; But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench, Thou poutest upon thy fortune and thy love : Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. Shaks. Henry IV. Part II. He reads much ; He is a good observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony ; he hears no music : Seldom he smiles ; and smiles in such a sort, As if he mock'd himself, and scorn' d his spirit That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. Shaks. Julius C&sar, She is peevish, sullen, froward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty ; Neither regarding that she is my child, Nor fearing me as if I were her father. Shaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be civil ; The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths of wisest censure ; what 's the matter That you unlace your reputation thus, And spend your rich opinion for the name Of a night-brawler ? give me answer to it. Shaks. OlheUo. With his words All seem'd well pleas'd ; all seem'd but were not aJL Milton's Paradise Lost 140 DISCORD - DISCRETION. Did I request thee, maker, from my clay To mould me man, did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me, or here place In this delicious garden ? as my will Concurr'd not to my being, it were but right And equal to reduce me to my dust, Desirous to resign and render back All I rcceiv'd unable to perform Thy terms so hard, by which I was to hold The good I sought not. Milton's Paradise Lost. Sour discontent that quarrels with our fate, May give fresh smart, but not the old abate ; The uneasy passion's disingenuous wit, The ill reveals, but hides the benefit. Sir Ricliard Blachnore. Against our peace we arm our will: Amidst our plenty something still For horses, houses, pictures, planting, To thee, to me, to him is wanting ; That cruel something unpossest Corrodes and leavens all the rest, That something if we could obtain, Would soon create a future pain. Prior. Why discontent for ever harbour' d there ? Incurable consumption of our peace ! Resolve me why the cottager, and king, He whom sea-sever'd realms obey, and he Who steals his whole dominion from the waste, Repelling winter's blast with mud and straw, Disquieted alike, draw sigh for sigh, In fate so distant, in complaint so near. Young. It 's hardly in a body's power To keep, at times, frae being sour, To see how things are shar'd ; How best o' chiels are whyles in want, While coofs on countless thousands rant, And Ken na how to wair 't. Burns. Man hath a weary pilgrimage, As through the world he wends ' On every stage, from youth to age, Still discontent attends. Southey. I cannot bear to be with men Who only see my weaknesses ; Who know not what I might have been, But scan my spirit as it is. WiUis. ft is not well to brood Thus darkly o'er the cares that swell Life's current to a flood. \s brooks, and torrents, rivers, ail ncrease the gulf in which they fall, Such thoughts, by gathering up the rills Of lesser griefs, spread real ills ; And with their gloomy shades conceal The land-marks Hope would else reveal. Mrs. Dinnies DISCORD. Discord, a sleepless hag, who never dies, With snipe-like nose, and ferret-glowing eyes, Lean, sallow cheeks, long chin, with beard supplied, Poor crackling joints, and wither'd parchment hide. As if old drums, worn out with martial din. Had clubb'd their yellow heads to form her skin. Dr. Wolcofs Peter Pindar DISCRETION. Press me not, 'beseech you, so ; There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' th' world, So soon as yours, could win me. Shahs His air, his voice, his looks, and honest scul, Speak all so movingly in his behalf, I dare not trust myself to hear him talk. Addison How excellent is woman, when she gives To the fine pulses of her spirit way ; Her virtues blossom daily, and pour out A fragrance upon all who in her path Have a blest fellowship. Willis O, save to one familiar friend, Thy heart its veil should wear, The faithless vow be all unheard, — The flattery wasted there ; Heeding the homage of the vain As lightly as some star, Whose steady radiance changes not, Though thousands kneel afar. Whittier. DISEASE.— (See Health.) DISHONESTY.— (See Thieves. DISPLEASURE. — (See Anger.) DISPOSITION. — (See Character.) DOUBT-DREAMS. 141 DOUBT. His name was Doubt, that had a double face, Th' one forward looking, th' other backward bent, Therein resembling Janus auncient, Which had in charge the ingate of the year : And evermore his eyes about him went, As if some proved peril he did fear, Or did misdoubt some ill, whose cause did not appear. Spenser's Fairy Queen. 'T is good to doubt the worst, We may in our belief be too secure. Webster's and Rowley's TJiracian Wonder. Known mischiefs have their cure, but doubts have none; And better is despair than fruitless hope Mix'd with a killing fear. May's Cleopatra. Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt. Shales. Mea.for Mea. You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me : pray you (Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more Than to be sure they do ; for certainties Or are past remedies, or timely knowing, The remedy then born) discover to me What both you spur and stop. Shales. Cymbeline. The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure ; but modest doubt is call'd The beacon of the wise ; the tent that searches To the bottom of the worst. Shales. Troilus and Cressida. I run the gauntlet of a file of doubts, Each one of which down hurls me to the ground. Bailey's Festus. Who never doubted never half believed, Where doubt there truth is — 't is her shadow. Bailey. Life's sunniest hours are not without The shadow of some lingering doubt — Amid its brightest joys will steal Spectres of evil yet to feel — Its warmest love is blent with fears, ts confidence a trembling one — Its smile — the harbinger of tears — Its hope — the change of April'3 sun ! A weary lot — in mercy given, To fit the chastened soul for heaven. Whittier. What though the world has whisper'd thee, 'Be ware !' Thou dost not dream of change. Nay, do no speak, For any answer would imply a doubt In love's deep confidence, which not for worlds Should have existence. Robert Morri* The clear, cold question chills to frozen doubt; Tired of beliefs, we dread to live without ; then, if reason waver at thy side, Let humbler Memory be thy gentle guide, Go to thy birth-place, and, if faith was there, Repeat thy father's creed, thy mother's prayer . O. W. Holmes Yet do not think I doubt thee, I know thy truth remains ; 1 would not live without thee, For all the world contains. G. P. Morris Beware of doubt — faith is the subtle chain Which binds us to the infinite : the voice Of a deep life within, that will remain Until we crowd it thence. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith. DREAMS. Dreams are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; Which is as thin of substance as the air , And more inconstant than the wind. Shaks. Romeo and Juliet If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand ; My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne ; And all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts Shales. Romeo and Juliet Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possess'd, When but love's shadows are so rich in joy ! Shales. Romeo and Juliet Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream : And in thy face strange motions have appear 4, Such as we see when men restrain their breath On some great sudden haste. Shaks. Henry IV. Part J Dreams are toys : Yoi, &t ihis once, yea, superstitiously, I will f» gquar'd by this. Shaks Winter't TaU 142 DREAMS. There oie a kind of men so loose of soul, That in their sleeps will utter their affairs. Shaks. Othello. There is somt; ill a-brewing towards my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. Then came wandering by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood ; and he shriek' d out aloud, — Clarence is come, — false, fleeting, perjur'd Cla- rence, — That stabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury. Shaks. Richard III. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, Than can the substance often thousand soldiers, Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. Shaks. Richard III. Divinity hath oftentimes descended Upon our slumbers, and the blessed troupes Have, in the calm and quiet of the soule, Conversed with us. Shirley. Dreams are but interludes which fancy makes ; When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes : Compounds a medley of disjointed things, A mob of cobblers, and a court of kings : Light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad ; Both are the reasonable soul run mad : And many monstrous forms in sleep we see, That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be. Sometimes forgotten things long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind. The nurse's legends are for truths received, And the man dreams but what the boy believed. Dryden. But dreams full oft are found of real events The forms and shadows. Joanna Baillie's Eihwald. While o'er my limbs sleep's soft dominion spread, What though my soul fantastic measures trod O'er fairy fields ; or mourn'd along the gloom Of pathless woods ; or down the craggy steep Huri'd headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool; Ur scal'd the cliff, or dane'd on hollow winds, With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain ? Her ceaseless flight, though devious, speaks her nature Of subtler essence than the trodden clod ; — For human weal, heaven husbands all events, Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain. Young. He sleeps, if it be sleep ; this starting trance, Whose feverish tossings and deep mutter'd groans Do prove the soul shares not the body's rest — How the lip works, how the bare teeth do grind, And beaded drops course down his writhen brow ! Maturin's Bertram. Lightly he dreamt as youth will dream, Of sport by thicket, or by stream, Of hawk, of hound, of ring, of glove, Or lighter yet — of lady's love. ScoWs Marmion. Our waking dreams are fatal : how I dreamt, Of things impossible ! (could sleep do more ?) Of joys perpetual in perpetual change ! Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave ! Eternal sunshine in the storms of life ! How richly were my noon-tide trances hung With gorgeous tapestries of pictur'd joys ! Joy behind joy, in endless perspective ! Till at death's toll, whose restless iron tongue Calls daily for his millions at a meal, Starting I woke, and found myself undone. Young. Dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy ; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being ; they become A portion of ourselves as of our time, And look like heralds of eternity ; They pass like spirits of the past, — they speak Like sibyls of the future ; they have power — The tyranny of pleasure and of pain ; They make us what we were not — what thev will, And shake us with the vision that 's gone by, The dread of vanish'd shadows — Are they so ? Is not the past all shadow ? what are they ? Creations of the mind ? the mind can make Substance, and people planets of its own With beings brighter than have been, and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh. Byron's Dream Spirit Land ! thou land of dreams ! A world thou art of mysterious gleams, Of startling voices and sounds of strife, A world of the dead in the hues of life. Mrs. Hemans's Poems. 1 walk with sweet friends in the sunset glow ; I listen to music of long ago ; But one thought, like an omen, breathes faint through the lay, — " It is but a dream ; it will melt away.' ' Mrs. Hema/i's Poems DRESS - DROWNING - DRUMS - DRUNKENNESS. 143 Just one look before I sleep, Just one parting- glance to keep On my heart, and on my brain Every line and feature plain, In sweet hopes that they may be Present in these dreams to me, Which the gentle night hour brings Ever on her starry wings. Miss Landon. Dreams are rudiments Of the great state to come. We dream what is About to happen. Bailey. Innocent dreams be thine ! thy heart sends up Its thoughts of purity, like pearly bells, Rising in crystal fountains. Would I were A sound, that I might steal upon thy dreams, And, like the breathing of my flute, distil Sweetly upon thy senses. Willis. Bright dreams attend thee, gentle one, The brightest and the best ; For sorrows scarce can fall upon A maid so purely blest. And when death's shadows round thee swell, And dim thy starry eyes, O, mayst thou be, my Rosabelle, A spirit of the skies. Robert Morris. DRESS. — (See Apparel.) DROWNING. O Lord ! methought, what pain it was to drown ! What dreadful noise of water in my ears ! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks, A thousand men and fishes gnaw'd upon me. Shaks. Richard III. Alone in the dark, alone on the wave, To buffet the storm alone — To struggle aghast at thy watery grave, To struggle and feel there is none to save, God shield thee, helpless one ! The stout limbs yield, for their strength is past, The trembling hands on the deep are cast, The white brow gleams a moment more, Then slowly sinks — the struggle is o'er ! Mrs. E. Oakes Smith. DRUMS. Strike up the drum : and let the tongue of war Flead for our interest. Shaks. King John. Your drums, being beaten, will cry out And so shall you, being beaten : do but stir An echo with the clamour of thy drum, And even at hand a drum is ready brae'd That shall reverberate all as loud as thine : Sound but another, and another shall, As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear, And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder. Shales. King John, DRUNKENNESS. And now, in madness, Being full of supper, and distempering draughts Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come To start my quiet. Shaks. Othello. If I can fasten one cup upon him, With that which he hath drunk to-night already, He '11 be as full of quarrel and offence As my young mistress' dog. Shaks. Othello. Oh that men should put an enemy in Their mouths, to steal away their brains ! that we Should with joy, pleasance, revel and applause, Transform ourselves into beasts. Shaks. Othello. It hath pleas'd the devil, drunkenness, to Give place to the devil, wrath ; one Unperfectness shows me another, to Make me frankly despise myself. I will ask him for my place again ; he Snail tell me, I am a drunkard : had I As many mouths as Hydra, such an answer Would stop them all. To be now a sensible Man, by and by a fool, and presently A beast ! every inordinate cup Is unbless'd, and th' ingredient is a devil. Oh thou invisible spirit of wine, If thou hast no name to be known by, let Us call thee devil ! Shaks. Othello. They were red-hot with drinking ; So full of valour, that they smote the air For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground For kissing of their feet. Shaks. Tempest, I have drugg'd their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live, or die. Shaks. Macbeth. Give me the cups ; And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to the earth, Now the king drinks to Hamlet. Shaks. Hamlet 144 DRUNKENNESS. No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day, Dut the great cannon to the clouds shall tell ; And the king's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Shaks. Hamlet. Give me a bowl of wine : — In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. Shaks. Julius Casar. Give me a bowl of wine : [ have not that alacrity of spirit, Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. Shaks. Richard III. Drunkenness ! that 's a most gentleman-like Sin, it scorns to be beholden ; for what it Receives in a man's house, it commonly Leaves again at his door. Cupid's Whirligig. Fly drunkenness, whose vile incontinence Takes both away the reason and the sense : Till with Circaean cups thy mind possest Leaves to be man, and wholly turns a beast Think while thou swallow'st the capacious bowl, Thou let'st in seas to sack and drown thy soul. That hell is open, to remembrance call, And think how subject drunkards are to fall. Consider how it soon destroys the grace Of human shape, spoiling the beauteous face : Puffing the cheeks, blearing the curious eye, Studding the face with vicious heraldry. What pearls and rubies does the wine disclose, •Making the purse poor to enrich the nose \ How does it nurse disease, infect the heart, Drawing some sickness into every part ! Randolph. It weaks the brain, it spoils the memory, Hasting on age, and wilful poverty : It drowns thy better parts, making thy name To foes a laughter, to thy friends a shame. 'T is virtue's poison and the bane of trust, The match of wrath, the fuel unto lust. Quite leave this vice, and turn not to 't again, Upon presumption of a stronger brain ; For he that holds more wine than others can, I rather count a hogshead than a man. Randolph. Nor need we tell what anxious cares attend The turbulent mirth of wine ; nor all the kinds Of maladies, that lead to death's grim cave, Wrought by intemperance : joint-racking gout ; Intestine stone ; and pining atrophy, "hill even when the sun with July heats Fries the scorch'd sol , and dropsy all afloat, Yet craving liquids. Philips's Cider. Now, As with new wine intoxicated both, They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feel Divinity within them breeding wings Wherewith to scorn the earth. Milton's Paradise Lost Man, with raging drink inflam'd, Is far more savage and untam'd; Supplies his loss of wit and sense With barb'rousness and insolence ; Believes himself, the less he 's able, The more heroic, and formidable; Lays by his reason in his bowls, As Turks are said to do their souls, Until it has so often been Shut out of its lodgings, and let in, At length it never can attain To find the right way back again ; Drinks all his time away, and prunes The end of 's life as vignerons Cut short the branches of a vine, To make it bear more plenty o' wine; And that which nature did intend T* enlarge his life, perverts its end. Butler's Hudibras. Thus as they swim in mutual swill, the talk, Vociferous at once from twenty tongues, Reels fast from theme to theme ; from horses, hounds, To church or mistress, politics or ghost, In endless mazes, intricate, perplex'd. Thomson's Seasons. Confused above, Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers, As if the table even itself was drunk, Lie a wet broken scene ; and wide, below, Is heap'd the social slaughter : where astride, The lubber power in filthy triumph sits, Slumb'rous, inclining still from side to side, And steeps them drench'd in potent sleep till morn. Perhaps some doctor, of tremendous paunch, Awful and deep, a black abyss of drink, Outlives them all, and from his bury'd flock Retiring full of rumination sad, Laments the weakness of these latter times. Thomson's Seasons What dext'rous thousands just within the goal Of wild debauch direct their nightly course ! Perhaps no sickly qualms bedim their days, No morning admonitions shock the head. But ah ! what woes remain ! life rolls apace, And that incurable disease — old age, In youthful bodies more severely felt, More sternly active, shakes their blasted prime. Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health DUELLING-DUTY. 145 When the frantic raptures in your breast Subside, you languish into mortal man ; You sleep, and waking find yourself undone. For, prodigal of life, in one rash night You lavish' d more than might support three days. A heavy morning comes ; your cares return With tenfold rage. An anxious stomach well May be endured ; so may the throbbing heart: But such a dim delirium, such a dream, Involves you ; such a dastardly despair Unmans your soul, as madd'ning Pentheus felt, When, baited round Cithaeron's sides, He saw two suns, and double Thebes, ascend, — Add that your means, your health, your parts decay; Your friends avoid you ; brutishly transform'd They hardly know you, or, if one remains To wish you well, he wishes you in heaven. Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health, Ten thousand casks, For ever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink and be mad then. 'Tis your country bids. Gloriously drunk, obey th' important call, Her cause demands the assistance of your throats Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more. Camper's Task. Then a hand shall pass before thee, Pointing to his drunken sleep, To thy widow'd marriage-pillows, To the tears that thou shalt weep ! Tennyson. DUELLING. Your words have took such pains, as if they labour'd To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling Upon the head of valour ; which, indeed, Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were but newly born : He 's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe ; and make his wrongs His outsides ; wear them like his raiment, care- lessly ; And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. SJiaks. Timon of Athens. Some fiery fop, with new commission vain, Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man ; Some frolic drunkard, reeling from a feast, Provokes a broil, and stabs him for a jest. Dr. Johnson's London Am I to set my life upon a throw Because a bear is rude and surly ? — No ! A moral, sensible, and well-bred man Will not affront me, and no other can. Comperes Conversation 'T is hard indeed, if nothing will defend Mankind from quarrels but their fatal end ; That now and then a hero must decease, That the surviving world may live in peace. Perhaps at last close scrutiny may show The practice dastardly, and mean and low ; That men engage in it, compell'd by force, And fear, not courage, is its proper source ; , The fear of tyrant custom, and the fear Lest fops should censure us, and fools should sneer At least to trample on our Maker's laws, And hazard life for any or no cause. Cowper J s Conversation It is a strange quick jar upon the ear, That cocking of a pistol, when you know A moment more will bring the sight to bear Upon your person, twelve yards off, or so ; A gentlemanly distance, not too near, If you have got a former friend for foe; But after being fired at once or twice, The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice. Byron DUTY. Stern daughter of the voice of God ! O Duty ! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove ; Thou who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe, Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice. Wordsworth Cold duty's path is not so blithely trod Which leads the mournful spirit to its God. William Herbert Rugged strength and radiant beauty — These were one in nature's plan ; Humble toil and heavenward duty — These will form the perfect man. Mrs. Hale. Vain we number every duty, Number all our prayers and tears, Still the spirit lacketh beauty, Still it droops with many fears. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith To hallow'd duty, Here with a loyal and heroic heart, Bind we our lives. Mrs, Osgmd 13 146 EARTH - EARTHQUAKE - EATING - ECSTACY- EDUCATION. Then the purposes of life Stood apart from vulgar strife, Labour in the path of duty Gleam'd up like a thing of beauty. C. P. Crunch. For Love himself took part against himself To warn us off, and Duty lov'd of Love, O this world's curse, — belov'd but hated — came Like Death between thy dear embrace and mine. Tennyson. EARTH. For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, But to the earth some special good doth give. Shaks. Romeo and Juliet. The earth, that 's nature's mother, is her tomb. Shaks. Romeo and Juliet. And fast by hanging in a golden chain This pendent world, in bigness as a star. Milton's Paradise Lost. Earth's days are number'd, nor remote her doom ; As mortal, tho' less transient, than her sons. Young's Night Thoughts. Where is the dust that has not been alive ? The spade, the plough, disturb our ancestors ; From human mould we reap our daily bread. Young's Night Thoughts. Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own ; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came Wordsworth. 'T is earth shall lead destruction ; she shall end, The stars shall wonder A'hy she comes no more On her accustom'd orbit, and the sun Miss one of his eleven of light ; the moon, An orphan orb, shall seek for earth for aye Through time's untrodden depths, and find her not Bailey's Festus. My kindred earth I see ; — Once every atom of this ground Lived, breathed and felt like me. Montgomery. The eart' 1 is bright, And I am earthly, so I love it well ; Though heaven is holier, and full of light, Yet I a;n fran, and with frail things would dwell. Mrs. Judson. EARTHQUAKE. Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions ; and the teeming earth Is with a kind of cholic pinch'd and vex'd, By the imprisoning of unruly wind Within her womb ; which, for enlargement striving, Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down Steeples, and moss-grown towers. Shaks. Henry IV Part 1. As though an earthquake smack'd its mumbling lips O'er some thick-peopled city. Bailey's Festus EATING. — (See Feasting.) ECSTACY. — (See Joy.) EDUCATION. How can he rule well in a commonwealth, Which knoweth not himself in rule to frame ? How should he rule himself in ghostly health, Which never learn'd one lesson for the same ? If such catch harm, their parents are to blame For needs must they be blind, and blindly led, Where no good lesson can be taught or read. Cavil in the Mirror for Magistrate For noble youth, there is no thing so meet As learning is, to know the good from ill : To know the tongues, and perfectly indite, And of the laws to have a perfect skill, Things to reform as right and justice will For honour is ordained for no caus But to see right maintained by the laws Cavil in the Mirror for Magistrate* The more politic sort Of parents will to handicrafts resort : If they observe their children to produce Some flashings of a mounting genius, Then must they with all diligence invade Some rising calling, or some gainful trade ; But if, by chance, they have one leaden soul, Born for to number eggs, he must to school ; 'Specially if some patron will engage Th' advowson of a neighbouring vicarage ; Strange hedly-medly ! who would make his swmo Turn greyhounds, or hunt foxes with his kine ? Hall Man's like a barren and ungrateful foil, That seldom pays the labour of manuring. Sir Robert Howdrd' BUid Lady EGOTISM - ELEGANCE - ELOQUENCE. 117 T i& education forms the common mind ; Just as the twig is bent, the tree 's inclin'd. Boastful and rough, your first son is a squire ; The next a tradesman meek, and much a liar ; Tom struts a soldier, open, bold, and brave ; Will sneaks a scrivener, an exceeding knave ; Is he a churchman ? Then he 's fond of pow'r ; A quaker ? Sly ; A presbyterian ? Sour ; A smart free-thinker ? All things in an hour. Pope's Moral Essays. She taught the child to read, and taught so well, That she herself, by teaching, learn'd to spell. Byron's Sketch from Private Life. 'T is pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By female lips and eyes — that is, I mean When both the teacher and the taught are young, As was the case at least where I have been ; They smile so when one 's right, and when one 's wrong They smile still more. Byron. Culture's hand Has scatter'd verdure o'er the land ; And smiles and fragrance rule serene, Where barren wild usurp'd the scene. And such is man — a soil which breeds Or sweetest flowers, or vilest weeds ; Flowers lovely as the morning's light, Weeds deadly as an aconite ; Just as his heart is train'd to bear The poisonous weed, or flow'ret fair. Bowring. A little learning is a dangerous thing, Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring, For shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, But drinking largely sobers us again. Pope's Essay on Criticism. Learning by study must be won ; 'T was ne'er entail'd from sire to son. Gay's Fables. And say to mothers what a holy charge Is theirs — with what a kingly power their love Might rule the fountains of the new-born mind ; Warn them to wake at early dawn, and sow Good seed before the world has sown its tares. Mrs. Sigourney. Look through the casement of yon village school, Where now the pedant with his oaken rule, Sits like Augustus on the imperial throne, Between two poets jet to fame unknown. James T. Fields. "hie while the fever is to learn what none will be wiser for knowing, Exploded errors in extinct tongues, and occasions foi meir use is small ; And the bright morning of life, for years of mia spent time, Wasted in following sounds hath track'd but little Tupped s Proverbial Philosophy Be understood in thy teaching, and instruct to tht measure of capacity; Precepts and rules are repulsive to a child, bu happy illustration winneth him. Tapper's Proverbial Philosophy, EGOTISM. — (See Selfishness.) ELEGANCE. — (See Grace.) ELOQUENCE. And when she spake, Sweete words, like dropping honey, she did shed ; And 'twixt the perles and rubies softly brake A silver sound, that heavenly musicke seem'd to make. Spenser's Fairy Queen. Her words were like a stream of honey fleeting, The which doth softly trickle from the hive, Able to melt the hearer's heart unweeting, And eke to make the dead again alive. Spenser Pow'r above pow'rs I O heavenly eloquence ! -That with the strong rein of commanding words, Dost manage, guide, and master th' eminence Of men's affections, more than all their swords ! Shall we not offer to thy excellence The richest treasure that our wit affords ? Thou that canst do much more with one pen, Than all the pow'rs of princes can effect ; And draw, divert, dispose, and fashion men, Better than force or rigour can direct 1 Should we this ornament of glory then, As th' immaterial fruits of shades neglect ? Daniel Men are more eloquent than women made ; But women are more pow'rful to persuade. Randolph's Amyntas What is judicious eloquence to those Whose speech not up to other's reason grows, But climbs aloft to their own passion's height ? And as our seamen make no use of sight By any thing observ'd in wide strange seas, But only of the length of voyages ; Or else, as men in races make no stay To draw large prospects of their breath away , So they, in heedless races of the tongue, Care not how broad their theme is, Dut how long Sir W. Bavewint 148 ELOQUENCE. Ev'ry word he t t )oakk is a syren's note, To draw the careless hearer. Beaumont's Sea Voyage. In her youth There is a prone and speechless dialect, Such as moves men ; besides she hath prosperous art, When she will play with reason and discourse, And weil she can persuade. Shaks. Mea.for Mea. Oh ! I will hearken like a doting mother, To hear her children prais'd by flatt'ring tongues. Sir Robed Howard's Duke of Lerma. His tongue Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dash Maturcst counsels. Milton's Paradise Lost. When with greatest art he spoke, You'd think he talk'd like other folk. Butler's Hudibras. Bat when he pleas'd to show 't, his speech, In loftiness of sound, was rich ; A Babylonish dialect, Which learned pedants much affect. It was a party-coloured dress Of patch'd and pye-ball'd languages: 'T was English cut on Greek and Latin, Like fustian heretofore on satin. Butler's Hudibras. Oh ! speak that again ! Sweet as the syren's tongue those accents fall, And charm me to my ruin. Southern's Royal Brother. When he spoke, what tender words he us'd ! So softly, that, like flakes of feather'd snow, They melted as they fell. Dry den's Spanish Friar. I '11 speak the kindest words That tongue e'er utter'd, or that art e'er thought. Dryden's Indian Emperor. Your words are like the notes of dying swans ; Too sweet to last. Dryderi's All for Love. Methought I heard a voice, Sweet as the shepherd's pipe upon the mountains, When all his little flock 's at feed before him. Otway's Orphan. VVTio tauts of dying in a voice so sweet, That life 's in love witn it. Otway's Orphan. That voice was wont to come in gentle whispers, And fill my eari with the soft breath of love. Otway's Venice Preserved. Oil, while you speak, mcthinks a sudden calm, In spite of all the horror that surrounds me, Falls upon every frighted faculty, And puts my soul in tune. Lee's Brutut, And whercsoe'er the subject 's best, the sense Is better'd by the speaker's eloquence. King As I listen'd to thee, The happy hours pass'd by us unperccived, So was my soul fix'd to the soft enchantment. Rowe's Tamerlane. Oh ! I know Thou hast a tongue to charm the wildest tempers ; Herds would forget to graze, and savage beasts Stand still, and lose their fierceness, but to hear thee, As if they had reflection : and by reason Forsook a less enjoyment for a greater. Rowe's Tamerlane. Oft the hours From morn to eve have stolen unmask'd away, While mute attention hung upon his lips. Akenside's Pleasures of Imagination Now, with fine phrase, and foppery of tongue, More graceful action, and a smoother tone, That orator of fable, and fair face, Will steal on your brib'd hearts. Young's Brothers. O eloquence ! thou violated fair ! How art thou woo'd, and won to either bed Of right or wrong ! O when injustice folds thee, Dost thou not curse thy charms for pleasing him, And blush at conquest. Havard's King Charles I. Thy words had such a melting flow, And spoke of truth so sweetly well, They dropp'd like heaven's serenest snow, And all was brightness where they fell ! Moore. Here rills of oily eloquence in soft Meanders lubricate the course they take. Cowper. The grand debate, The popular harangue, the tart reply, The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, And the loud laugh — I long to know them all. Cowper. Oh ! as the bee upon the flower, I hang Upon the honey of thy eloquent tongue. Bulwer's Lady of Lyons Her tears her only eloquei ce. Rogers' Jacqueline EMIGRATION. 149 His words scem'd oracles That pierc'd their bosoms ; and each man would turn And gaze in wonder on his neighbour's face, That with the like dumb wonder answer'd him. You could have heard The beating of your pulses while he spoke. George Croly. Such a lip ! — oh, pour'd from thence Lava floods of eloquence Would come with fiery energy, Like those words that cannot die. Words the Grecian warrior spoke When the Persian's chain he broke ; Or that low and honey tone, Making woman's heart his own. L. E. London. The charm of eloquence — the skill To wake each secret string, And from the bosom's chords at will Life's mournful music bring ; The o'ermast'ring strength of mind, which sways The haughty and the free, Whose might earth's mightiest ones obey, This charm was given to thee. Mrs. Embury. There 's a charm in deliv'ry, a magical art, That thrills like a kiss from the lip to the heart ; 'T is the glance — the expression — the well-chosen word — By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirr'd. The lip's soft persuasion — its musical tone : Oh ! such were the charms of that eloquent one ! Mrs. Welby. The spell is thine that reaches The heart, and makes the wisest head its sport ; And there's one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches, The secret of their mastery — they are short. Halleck. His eloquence is classic in its style, Not brilliant with explosive coruscations Of heterogeneous thoughts, at random caught, And scatter'd like a shower of shooting stars, That end in darkness : no ; — his noble mind Ts clear, and full, and stately, and serene. His earnest and undazzled eye he keeps Fix'd on the sun of Truth, and breathes his words 4k.s easily as eagles cleave the air ; \_nd never pauses till the height is won ; And all who listen follow where he leads. Mrs. Hale. EMIGRATION. Down where yon anch'ring vessel spreads the sal. That idly waiting flaps with ev'ry gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore and darken all the strand. Contented toil, and hospitable care, And kind connubial tenderness, are there ; And piety with wishes plac'd above, And steady loyalty, and faithful love. Goldsmith'' s Deserted Village. Good heav'n ! what sorrows gloom'd that parting day, That call'd them from their native walks away, When the poor exiles, ev'ry pleasure past, Hung round the bowr's,and fondly look'd their last, And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain For seats like these beyond the western mam , And shudd'ring still to face the distant deep, Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep. Goldsmiths Deserted Village Behold the duteous son, the sire decay'd, The modest matron and the blushing maid. Forc'd from their homes, a melancholy train, To traverse climes beyond the western main : Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around, And Niagara stuns with thund'ring sound ! E'en now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays Through tangled forests, and through dangerous ways; Where beasts with man divided empire claim. And the brown Indian marks with murd'rous aim There, while above the giddy tempest flies, And all around distressful yells rise ; The pensive exile, bending with his woe, To stop too fearful, and too faint to go, Casts a long look where England's glories shine. And bids his bosom sympathize with mine. G oldsmith's Traveller Let us depart ! the universal sun Confines not to one land his blessed beams ; Nor is man rooted, like a tree, whose seed The winds on some ungenial soil have cast There, where it cannot prosper. Souihey's Madoc I hear the tread of pioneers Of nations yet to be, The first low wash of waves where soon Shall roll a human sea. Whittier. The emigrant's way o'er the Western desert i» mark'd by Camp-fires long consum'd, and bones that blcacfl in the sunshine. Longfellow's Evangeline 13* 150 CM ULATION - ENEMY - ENGAGEMENT ENGLAND. One laok, i ic ast look, To the c \»ts and tlie towers, To the rows of our vines And the beds of our flowers, To the church where the bones Of our fathers decay'd, Whcve we fondly had deem'd That our own would be laid I Our hearths we abandon ; — Our lands we resign ; — But, Father, we kneel To no altar but thine. T. Babington Macaulay. Over the Rocky Mountains' height, Like ocean in its tided might, The living sea rolls onward, on ! And onward on the stream shall pour, And reach the far Pacific's shore, And fill the plains of Oregon. Mrs. Hale's Poems. The axe rang sharply 'mid those forest shades, Which from creation toward the sky had tower'd In unshorn beauty. There, with vigorous arm, Wrought a bold emigrant, and by his side His little son, with question and response Beguil'd the time. Mrs. Sigourney's Poems. EMULATION. — (See Ambition.) ENEMY. Though all things do to harm him what they can, No greater en'my to himself than man. Earl of Sterline. I love Dinant, mine enemy, nay, admire him ; His valour claims it from me, and with justice : He that could fight thus, in a cause not honest ; His sword edg'd with defence of right and honour, Would pierce as deep as lightning, with that speed too, And kill as deadly. Beaumont and Fletcher. 'T is, methinks, a strange dearth of enemies, When we seek foes among ourselves. Beaumont and Fletcher's Island Princes. T is ill to trust a reconciled foe ; Be still in readiness, you do not know How soon he may assault us. Webster and Rowley's Thracian Wonder. Scorn no man's love, though of a mean degree : Love is a present for a mighty king ; Much less make any one thine enemy. Herbert. Let not thy foe still pass without controlling, Like fame and snow-balls he'll get strength by "oiling. Aleyn's Crescey. The fine and noble way to kill i foe, Is not to kill him : you with kindness may So change him, that he shall cease to be so; And then he 's slain. Sigismund us'd to say His pardons put his foes to death ; for when He mortify'd their hate, he kill'd them then. Aleyn's Henry VU There 's not so much danger In a known foe, as a suspected friend. Nabb's Hannibal and Scipio Enemies, reconcil'd, Are like wild beasts brought up to hand ; they have More advantage given them to be cruel. Killegrew's Conspiracy. Lands intersected by a narrow frith, Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd Make enemies of nations, which had else Like kindred drops been melted into one. Cowper I never see a wounded enemy, Or hear of foe slain on the battle-field, But I bethink me of his pleasant home, And how his mother and his sisters watch For one who never more returns. Poor souls ! I 've often wept to think how they must weep. Mrs. Hale's Ormond Grosvenor ENGAGEMENT. — (See Proposal.) ENGLAND. The English nation, like the sea it governs, Is bold and turbulent and easily mov'd ; And always beats against the shore that bounds it Crown's 2d part of Henry VI Bid us hope for victory : We have a world within ourselves whose breast No foreigner hath unrevenged prest These thousand years. Tho' Rhine and Rhone can serve, And envy Thames his never captive streams : Yet maugre all, if we ourselves are true, We may despise what all the earth can do. True Trojans England is safe, if true within itself. 'T is better using France, than trusting France : Let us be back'd with God and with the seas, Which he hath given for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves ; In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies. Shaks. Henry VI. - Part III England never did (nor never shall) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Shaks. King John ENGLAND. 15! O England ! — model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heart, — What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do, Were all thy children kind and natural ! But see thy fault ! France hath in thee found out A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills With treacherous crowns. Shaks. Henry V. Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them ; nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true. Shaks. King John. I' the world's volume Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it ; In a great pool, a swan's nest. Shaks. Cymbeline. Our sea-walled garden, the whole land, Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choak'd up, Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars. Shaks. Richard II. This scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demy Paradise, This fortress, built by nature for herself, Against infection, and the hand of war ; This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall ; Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands. Shaks. Richard II. This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world. Shaks. Richard II. Britain, the queen of isles, our fair possession Secur'd by nature, laughs at foreign force ; Her ships her bulwark, and the sea her dike, Sees plenty in her lap, and braves the world. Havard's King Charles I. Whether this portion of the world were rent, By the rude ocean, from the continent, Or thus created ; it was sure design'd To be the sacred refuge of mankind. Waller to the Lord Protector. Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas, That thunder round thy rocky coast, set up, At once, the wonder, terror, and delight, Of distant nations : Whose remotest shores Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm ; Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea wave. T]unnson , s Seasons. A Hampden too is thine, illustrious land, Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul, Who stemm'd the torrent of a downward ago To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again In all thy native pomp of freedom bold. Bright at his call, the age of men cffulg'd, Of men on whom late time a kindling eye Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read. Thomson's Seasons. 'Tis liberty crowns Britannia's Isle, And makes her barren rocks and her bleak moun- tains smile. Addison, native isle ! fair freedom's happiest seat ! At thought of thee, my bounding pulses beat ; At thought of thee my heart impatient burns ; And all my country to my soul returns. When shall I see those fields, whose plenteous grain No pow'r can ravish from th' industrious swain ? When kiss, with pious love, the sacred earth That gave a Burleigh or a Russell birth ? When — in the shade of laws that long have stood, Propt by their care or strengthen'd by their blood, — Of fearless independence wisely vain, The proudest slave of Bourbon's race disdain. Lord Littleton. Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, 1 see the lords of human kind pass by; Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, By forms unfashion'd, fresh from nature's hand, Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, True to imagin'd right, above control ; W'hile e'en the peasant boasts these rights to scan, And learns to venerate himself as man. Goldsmith's Traveller England, with all thy faults, I love thee still, My country ! and while yet a nook is left Where English names and manners may be found Shall be constrain' d to love thee. Though th) clime Be fickle, and thy year, most part, deform'd With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost. I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies And fields without a flower, for warmer Franco With all her vines ; nor for Ausonia's groves Of golden fruitage and her myrtle bowers. Cowper*s Task, Thee therefore still, blame-worthy as thou arl, With all thy loss of empire, and though squeezed By public exigence, 'till annual food Fails for the craving hunger of the state Thee I account still happy, and the chief Among tie nations, seeing thou art free ! My native nook of earth. Camper's Task 152 ENJOYMENT. He had a*. English lool , that is, was square In make, of a complexion white and ruddy, Good teeth, with curling, rather dark hrown hair, And it might be from thought, or toil, or study, An open brow a little mark'd with care. Byron. " England with all thy faults I love thee still," I said at Calais, and have not forgot it; I like to speak and lubricate my fill ; I like the government (but that is not it); I like the freedom of the press and quill ; I like the "Habeas Corpus" (when we 've got it) : I like a parliamentary debate, Particularly when 't is not too late ; I lirie the taxes, when they 're not too many ; I like a sea-coal fire, when not too dear ; I like a beef-steak, too, as well as any ; Have no objection to a pot of beer ; I like the weather, when it is not rainy, That is, I like two months of every year. And so God save the regent, church and king ! Which means that I like all and every thing. Our standing army, and disbanded seamen, Poor's rate, reform, my own, the nation's debt, Our little riots just to show we are freemen, Our trifling bankruptcies in the gazette, Our cloudy climate, and our chilly women, All these I can forgive, and those forget, And greatly venerate our recent glories, And wish they were not owing to the tories. Byron's Beppo. The free, fair homes of England ! Long, long, in hut and hall, May hearts of native proof be rear'd To guard each hallow'd wall ! And green for ever be the groves, And bright the flowery sod, Where first the child's glad spirit loves Its country and its God ! Mrs. Hemans. England ! my country, great and free ! Heart of the world, I leap to thee ! Bailey's Festus. Adieu, oh Fatherland ! I see Your white cliffs on th' horizon's rim, And though to freer skies I flee, My heart swells and my eyes are dim ! As knows the dove the task you give her, When loosed upon a foreign shore, As spreads the rain-drop in the river In which it may have flow'd before, To England, ove- vale and mountain, My fancy flew from climes more fair, Vly blood, that knew its purest fountain, Han warm arid fast in England's air. Willis's Poems. It is well worth A year of wandering, were it but to feel How much our England does outweigh the world. Miss Landon. I love thee — when I see thee stand The hope of every other land ; A sea-mark in the tide of time, Rearing to heaven thy brow sublime. J. Montgomery Thou glorious island of the sea ! Though wide the wasting flood That parts our distant land from thee, We claim thy generous blood ; Nor o'er thy far horizon springs One hallow'd star of fame, But kindles, like an angel's wings Our western skies in flame ! O. W. Holmes. ENJOYMENT. With much we surfeit, plenty makes us poor, The wretched Indian scorns the golden ore. Drayton. 'Tis a bliss above the feign'd Elysium To clasp a dainty waist ; to kiss a lip Melts into nectar ; to behold an eye Shoot am'rous fires, that would warm cold statues Into life and motion ; play with hair Brighter than that was stellified. NaWo Coveni Garden. Go to your banquet then, bat use delight, So as to rise still with an appetite. Love is a thing most nice, ana must be fed To such a height; but nvvei surfeited: What is beyond the mean is ever ill. Her~icJe. So full of life and soul our joys have been, We 've almost scatter'd life to all things round us, A thousand times I 've thought the wanton pictures Have striven to leap out of their golden frames That held them captive, and come share with us : A thousand times methought I 've seen their mouths Striving to break the painted shadows' bonds That held 'em bound in everlasting silence, And burst into a laughter and a rapture. Crown's Henry VI. Pari I We all are children in our strife to seize Each petty pleasure, as it lures the sight ; And like the tall tree, swaying in the breeze, Our lofty wishes stoop their tow'ring flight, Till, when the prize is won, it seems no more Than gather'd shell from ocean's countless store And ever those, who would enjoyment gain, Must find it in the purpose they pursue. Mrs Ha.e'i £Vm« f - — . — — ENNUI - ENTHUSIASM -ENVY. Uft Gi /e mc long dreams and visions of content, Alas ! that youth's fond hopes must fade, Rather than pleasures in a minute spent : And love be but a name. And since I know before, the shedding rose While its rainbows, follow'd e'er so fast, In that same instant doth her sweetness lose ; Are distant still the same. Rufus Dawe* Upon the virgin stock still let her dwell, For me to feast my longings with her smell. Those are but counterfeits of joy at best, ENTHUSIASM. Which languish soon as brought unto the test, No wild enthusiast ever yet could rest, Nor can I hold it worth his pains, who tries 'Till half mankind were like himself possess'd. To inn that harvest which by reaping dies. Cowpefs Progress of Error Dr. King, Bishop of Chichester. And rash enthusiasm in good society Were nothing but a moral inebriety. Byron. ENNUI. In every secret glance he stole Alas ! I have nor hope nor health, The fond enthusiast sent his soul. Scott. Nor peace within nor calm around, Nor that content surpassing wealth Methinks we must have known some former The sage in meditation found. state Shelley. More glorious than our present, and the heart Is haunted with dim memories, shadows left Social life is fill'd By past magnificence ; and hence we pine With doubts and vain aspirings ; solitude, With vain enthusiastic hopes that fill When the imagination is dethron'd, The eyes with tears for their own vanity. Is turn'd to weariness and ennui. Miss London. Miss London. I gaze upon the thousand stars I am tired of looking on what is, That fill the midnight sky ; f ne might as well see beauty never more, And wish, so passionately wish, As look upon it with an empty eye. A light like theirs on high. I would this world were over. I am tired. I have such eagerness of hope Bailey's Festus. To benefit my kind ; They are mockery all — these skies, these skies, I feel as if immortal power Their untroubled depth of blue — They are mockery all — those eyes, those eyes, Which seem so warm and true ; Were given to my mind. Miss London Each tranquil star in the one that lies, ENVY. Each meteor glance that at random flies And next to him malicious Envy rode The other's lashes through ! Upon a ravenous wolfe, and still did chaw They are mockery all, these flowers of spring, Between his cankered teeth a venemous tode, Which her airs so softly woo — That all the poison ran about his jaw; And the love to which we would madly cling, But inwardly he chawed his own maw Ay, it is mockery too ! At neighbour's wealth that made him ever sad The winds are false which the perfume stir, For death it was when any good he saw ; And the looks deceive to which we sue ; And wept, that cause of weeping none he had ; And love but leads to the sepulchre, And when he heard of harme he waxed wondrous Which flowers spring to strew. glad. Spenser's Fairy Queen. Hoffman. And if she hapt of any good to heare. It hath been said, " for all who die, That had to any happily betid, There is a tear ; Then would she inly fret, and grieve, and teai b Some pining, bleeding heart to sigh, Her flesh for felnesse, which she inward hid • O'er every bier ;" But if she heard of ill that any did, But in that hour of pain and dread, Or harme that any had, then would she ma ks Who will draw near, Great cheare, like one unto a banquet bid : Around my humble couch, and shed And in another's losse great pleasure take, One farewell tear ? As she had got thereby, and gayned a great stake Mrs. S. A. Lewis. | . Spenser's Fairy Quera 154 EN\r*. FIcr iian&s were foule and dirty, never washt In *U her life, with long nayles overraught, Like puttock's clawes, with th' one of which she scratcht Her Cursed head, although it itched naught, The other held a snake with venom fraught On which she fed and gnawed hungrily, As if that long she had not eaten aught; That round about her jawes one might descry The bloudie gore and poyson dropping loathsomely. Spenser's Fairy Queen. He hated all good works and virtuous deeds ; And him no less, that any like did use : And who with gracious bread the hungry feeds, His alms for want of faith he doth accuse : So every good to bad he doth abuse : And eke the verse of famous poets' wit He does backbite, and spiteful poison spues From leprous mouth, on all that ever w r rit : Such one vile envy was, that first in row did sit. Spenser's Fairy Queen. Envy with a pale and meagre face (whose Body was lean, that one might tell all Her bones, and whose garment was so tatter'd That it was easy to number ev'ry Thread) stood shooting at stars, whose darts fell down Again on her own face. Lilly's Endymion. His name was, while he liv'd, above all envy, And being dead, without it. Jonson's Sejanus. For the true condition of envy, is, Dolor alienee felicitatis ; to have Our eyes continually fix'd upon another Man's prosperity, that is, his chief happiness, And to grieve at that. Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour. Envy is but the smoke of low estate, Ascending still against the fortunate. Lord Brooke's Alakam. Envy not greatness ; for thou mak'st thereby Thyself the worse ; and so the distance greater. Be not thine own worm : yet such jealousy As hurts not others but makes thee better, lb a good spur. Herbert. For envy doth invade Works oreathing to eternity, and cast Upon the fairest piece the greatest shade. Aleyn'g Henry VII. Beneatu his feet pale envy bites her chain, Ana snaky discord whets her sting in vain. Sir John Beaumont. Envy is proud, nor strikes at what is low, And they shall only feel, who scorn her blow : She on no base advantage will insist ; Nor strive with any, but that can resist. Gomersali Great and good persons well may be From guilt, but not from envy free. Baron's Mirza, Of all antagonists, most charity I find in envious men : For they do Sooner hurt themselves, than hurt or me or Him that raised me up. An envious man is Made of thoughts : To ruminate much doth melt The brain, and make the heart grow lean. Such men As these, that in opposing waste their proper Strength ; that sacrifice themselves in silly Hope to butcher us ; save revenge a labour; And die to make experiment of wrath. Sir W. Davenant's Cruel Brother. Thy wit, thy valour, and thy delicate form, Were mighty faults, which the world could not bear. No wonder the vile envy of the base Pursu'd thee, when the noble could not bear thee. Crown's Henry IV. Part I. Now I feel Of what coarse metal you are moulded — envy. How eagerly you follow my disgraces, As if it fed ye ; and how sleek and wanton Ye appear in every tiling may bring my ruin ! Follow your envious courses, men of malice ; You have Christian warrant for them ; and, no doubt, In time will find their fit rewards. Shaks. Henry VIII My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation. Shaks. Julius Cczsar. Base envy withers at another's joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach. Thomson's Seasons. Yet much is talk'd of bliss ; it is the art Of such as have the world in their possession, To give it a good name, that fools may envy ; For envy to small minds is flattery. Young's Revenge, Here stood ill-nature like an ancient maid, Her wrinkled form in black and w r hite ' array 'd; With store of prayers, for mornings, nights, and noons, Her hands are fill'd ; her bosom wi'h lampoons. Pope's Rape of the Lock. EQUALITY - ERROR - ETIQUETTE. 155 Envy will :nerit as its shade pursue ; But like a shadow, proves the substance true. Pope. With that malignant envy, which turns pale, And sickens, even if a friend prevail, Which merit and success pursues with hate, Aad damns the worth it cannot imitate. Churchill's Rosciad. Yet even her tyranny had such a grace, The women pardon'd all except her face. By Envy dogs success ; And every victor's crown is lin'd with thorns, And worn 'mid scoffs. Miss London. Cold words that hide the envious thoughts. Willis. EaUALITT. Who can in reason then or right assume Monarchy over such as live by right His equals, if in pow'r or splendour less, In freedom equal ? Milton's Paradise Lost. Equal nature fashion'd us All in one mould. The bear serves not the bear, Nor the wolf the wolf; 'twas odds of strength in tyrants, That pluck'd the first link from the golden chain With which that thing of things bound in the world. Why then, since we are taught, by their examples, To love our liberty, if not command, Should the strong serve the weak, the fair deform'd ones ? Or such as know the cause of things, pay tribute To ignorant fools ? All 's but the outward gloss, And politic form, that does distinguish us. Massinger's Bondman. Consider man, weigh well thy frame, The king, the beggar are the same ; Dust form'd us all. Each breathes his day, Then sinks into his native clay. Gay's Fables. He was my equal at his birth, A naked, helpless, weeping child ; — And such are born to thrones on earth : On such hath every mother smiled. J. Montgomery. My equal he will be again Down in that cold oblivious gloom, Where all the prostrate ranks of men Crowd, without fellowship, the tomb. J. Montgomery. Well, one may trail her silken robe, And bind her locks with pearls, And one may wreathe the woodland rose Among her floating curls ; And one may tread the dewy grass, And one the marble floor, Nor half-hid bosom heave the less, Nor broider'd corset more. O. W. Holme* Children of wealth or want, to each is given One spot of green, and all the blue of heaven ! O. W. Holme ERROR. O hateful error, melancholy's child ! Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not ? O error, soon conceived Thou never com'st unto a happy birth, But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee. Shaks. Julius Casar But as a dog that turns the spit Bestirs himself, and plies his feet To climb the wheel, but all in vain, His own weight brings him down again, And still he 's in the self-same place, Where at his setting out he was. Butler's Hudibras When people once are in the wrong, Each line they add is much too long ; Who fastest walks, but walks astray Is only furthest from his way. Prim's Alma By tasting of the fruit forbid Where they sought knowledge they did error find, 111 they desir'd to know, and ill they did, And to give passion eyes made reason blind. Davies' Immortality of the Soul Error is worse than ignorance. Bailey's Festus — Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly — but truth survives the flight Bryant. — The Ages Verily, there is nothing so true, that the damps o* error hath not warp'd it. Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy ETIQUETTE. There 's nothing in the world like etiquette In kingly chambers or imperial hahs. As also at the race and county balls. Bynm 156 EVENING. There was a general whisper, toss, and wriggle, But etiquattc forbade them all to giggle. Byron. Harshly falls The doom upon the ear, — " She 's not genteel !" And pitiless is woman who doth keep Of " good society" the golden key ! And gentlemen are bound, as are the stars, To stoop not after rising. Willis's Poems. EVENING. The sun, Declin'd, was hasting now with prone career To th' ocean isles, and in th' ascending scale Of ncaven the stars that usher evening rose. Milton's Paradise Lost. The weary sun hath made a golden set, And by the bright track of his fiery car, Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. Shaks. Richard III. See the descending sun, Scatt'ring his beanos about him as he sinks, And gilding heaven above, and seas beneath, With paint no mortal pencil can express. Hopkins's Pyrrhus. The sun hath lost his rage : his downward orb Shoots nothing now but animating warmth, And vital lustre ; that with various ray Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of heaven, Incessant roll'd into romantic shapes, The dream of waking fancy. Thomson's Seasons. Now the soft hour Of walking comes ; for him who lonely -oves To seek the distant hills, and there converse With nature ; there to harmonize his heart, And in pathetic song to breathe around The harmony to others. Thomson's Seasons. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds. Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Uf such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Gray's Church-Yard. In the western sky the downward sun Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam. Thomson's Season*. The dews of the evening most carefully shun; Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun. Lord Chesterfield. Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in. Cowper's Task. This as I guess should be th' appointed time : For o'er our heads have pass'd on homeward wing Dark flights of rooks, and daws, and flocking birds Wheeling aloft with wild dissonant screams ; Whilst from each hollow glen and river's bed Rose the white curling mist, and softly stole Up the dark wooded banks. Joanna Baillie's Eihwald. Now from his crystal urn, with chilling hand, Vesper has sprinkled all the earth with dew, A misty veil obscured the neighbouring land, And shut the fading landscape from their view. Mrs. Tighe. The sultry summer day is done, The western hills have hid the sun, But mountain peak and village spire Retain reflection of his fire. Scott's Rokeby. It was an evening bright and still As ever blush'd on wave or bower, Smiling from heaven, as if nought ill Could happen in so sweet an hour. Moore's Loves of the Angela. Now the noon, Wearied with sultry toil, declines and falls Into the mellow eve : — the west puts on Her gorgeous beauties — palaces and halls, And towers, all carv'd of the unstable cloud, Welcome the calmly waning monarch — he Sinks gently midst that glorious canopy Down on his couch of rest — even like a proud King of the earth — the ocean. Bowring, A paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains ; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveiiwtst, 'till — 'tis gone — and all is grey. Byron's Chiide Hat tld. EVIL-EXAMPLE. 15- How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, And sunbeams melt along the silent sea, For then sweet dreams of other days arise, And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee. Moore. It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard ; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in ev'ry whisper'd word; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Byron's Parisina. Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the clime, the spot where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower, Or the faint dying day- hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer. Soft hour ! which makes the wish and melts the heart Of those who sail the seas, on the first day; When they from their sweet friends are torn apart ; Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way, As the far bell of vesper makes him start, Seeming to weep the dying day's decay ; Is this a fancy which our reason scorns ? Ah ! surely nothing dies but something mourns ! Byron. Come to the sunset tree ! The day is past and gone; The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done ; The twilight star to heaven, And the summer dew to flowers, And rest to us is given Ey the cool soft evening hours. Mrs. Hemans. Sweet is the hour of rest, Pleasant the wind's low sigh, And the gleaming of the west, And the turf whereon we lie. Mrs. Hemans. The summer day has clos'd — the sun is set: Well have they done their office, those bright hours, The latest of whose train goes softly out tn the red west. Bryanfs Poems. Vhen insect wings are glittering in the beam Of the low sun, and mountain-tops are bright, Oh, let me by the crystal valley-stream Wander amid the mild and mellow light ; And while the red-breast pipes his evening lay, Give me one lonely hour to hymn the setting day. Bryanfs Poems. Fairest of all that earth beholdi, the hues That live among the clouds, and flush the air, Lingering and deepening at the hour pi' .icws. Bryant's Pcem* The west with second pomp is bright, Though in the east the dusk is thickening, Twilight's first star breaks forth in white, Into night's gold each moment quickening. Street's Poem* The tender Twilight with a crimson cheek Leans on the breast of Eve. The wayward wind Hath folded her fleet pinions, and gone down To slumber by the darken'd woods. Isaac M'Lellan. Jr. EVIL. Still we love The evil we do, until we suffer it Jonson's Catiline* If he arm, arm ; if he strew mines of treason, Meet him with countermines ; it is justice still For goodness sake t' encounter ill with ill. Beaumont and Fletcher. There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out ; For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers ; Which is both healthful and good husbandry. Besides they are our outward consciences, And preachers to us all ; admonishing, That we should dress us fairly for our end, Thus we may gather honey from the weed, And make a moral of the devil himself. Shaks. Henry V. Timely advised, the coming evil shun ! Prior Evil is limited. One cannot form A scheme for universal eviL Bailey's Festu&. Evil then results from imperfection. Bailey Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people. Longfellow's Evangeline EXAMPLE. No age hath been, since nature first began To work Jove's wonders, but hath left behind Some deeds of praise for mirrors unto man, Which more thanthreatful laws have men inclin d, To tread the paths of praise excites the mind : Mirrors tie thoughts to virtue's due respects ; Examples hasten deeds to good effects. Mirror jo\ Magistrate* u 158 EXCELLENCE - EXECUTION - EXERCISE - EXILE. A fault doth never with remorse Our minds so deeply move, As when another's guiltless life Our error doth reprove. Brandon's Antony to Octavia. For as the light Not only serves to show, but render us Mutually profitable ; so our lives, In acts exemplary, not only win Ourselves good names, but do to others give Matter for virtuous deeds, by which we live. Chapman. Heaven me such uses send ; Not to pick bad from bad ; but by bad, mend ! Shahs. Othello. If men of good lives, Who, by their virtuous actions, stir up others To noble and religious imitation, Receive the greater glory after death, As sin must needs confess ; what may they feel In height of torments, and in weight of ven- geance, Not only they themselves not doing well, But set a light up to show men to hell ? Middleton. EXCELLENCE.— (See Merit.) EXECUTION. You few that lov'd me, And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying, Go with me, like good angels, to my end ; And as the long divorce of steel falls on me, Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven. — Lead on, o' God's name ! Shaks. Henry VIII. 'T is now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow Thou must be made immortal. Shaks. Mea. for Mea. See they suffer death; But in their deaths remember they are men : Strain not the laws, to make their tortures grievous. Addison's Cato. Slave! do thine office! tftriKe as I struck the foe ! Strike as I would Have struck those tyrants . Strike deep as my curse! Strike — and but once! Byron's Doge of Venice. EXERCISE. He does allot for every exercise A scv'ral hour ; for sloth, the nurse of vices, And rust of action, is a stranger to him. Massinger's Duke of Florence No body 's healthful without exercise : Just wars are exercises of a state ; Virtue 's in motion, and contends to rise With generous ascents above a mate. Aleyn's Poictiers. Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard. Shaks. Cymbeline. EXILE. O unexpected stroke, worse than of death ! Must I thus leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of gods ? where I had hop'd to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both. Milton's Paradise Lost. Some natural tears they dropt, but wip'd them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide : They hand in hand, with wand'ring steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way. Milton's Paradise Lott But me, not destin'd such delights to share, My prime of life in wandering spent and care : Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view; That, like the circle bounding earth and sides, Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies ; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, And find no spot of all the world my own. Goldsmith' 's Traveller. Yes, yes ! from out the herd, like a mark'd deer, They drive the poor distraught. The storms of heaven Beat on him : gaping hinds stare at his woe ; And no one stops to bid heav'n speed his way. Joanna Baillie's Ethwald, And the bark sets sail ; And he is gone from all he loves for ever ! His wife, his boys, and his disconsolate parents ! Gone in the dead of night — unseen of any — Without a word, a look of tenderness, To be call'd up, when, in his lonely hours, He would indulge in weeping. Rogetf's Italy EXILE. 159 Unhappy he ! who from the first of joys, Society, cut off, is left alone Amid this world of death. Day after day, Sad on the jutting eminence he sits, And views the main that ever toils below; Still fondly forming in the farthest verge, Where the round ether mixes with the wave, Ships, dim-discover'd, dropping from the clouds ; At evening, to the setting sun he turns A mournful eye, and down his dying heart Sinks helpless. Thomson's Seasons. Oh ! when shall I visit the land of my birth, The loveliest land on the face of the earth ? When shall I those scenes of affection explore, Our forests, our fountains, Our hamlets, our mountains, With the pride of our mountains, the maid I adore ? Oh ! when shall I dance on the daisy-white mead, In the shade of an elm, to the sound of the reed? Montgomery. Even now, as, wandering upon Erie's shore, I hear Niagara's distant cataract roar, I sigh for England — oh ! these weary feet Have many a mile to journey, ere we meet. Moore. Ah ! you never yet Were far away from Venice, never saw Her beautiful towers in the receding distance, While every furrow of your vessel's track Seem'd ploughing deep into your heart ; you never Saw day go down upon your native spires So calmly with its gold and crimson glory, And after dreaming a disturbed vision Of them and theirs, awoke and found them not. Byron — The Two Foscari. The night-breeze freshens — she that day had pass'd In watching all that Hope proclaim'd a mast ; Sadly she sate — on high — impatience bore At last her footsteps to the midnight shore : And here she wander'd, heedless of the spray That dash'd her garments oft, and warn'd away ; She saw not — felt not this, nor dar'd depart ; Nor deem'd it cold — her chill was at her heart. Byron's Corsair. But no ! it came not ; fast and far away The shadow lessen'd as it clear'd the bay. She gaz'd, and flung the sea-foam from her eyes, To watch as for a rainbow in the skies. On the horizon verg'd the distant deck, Diminish'd — dwindled to a very speck — Then vanish'd. Byron's Island. Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall, My dog howls at the gate. Byron's Childe Harold I depart, Whither I know not ; but the hour 's gone by, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve vi glad mine eye. Byron's Childe Harold Once more upon the waters ! yet once more I And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider. Welcome, to their roar I Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead ! Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed. And the rent canvass fluttering strew the gale, Still must I on ; for I am as a weed, Flung from the rock, on ocean's foam, to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail. Byron's Childe Harold, " Farewell, my Spain ! a long farewell !" he cried • " Perhaps I may revisit thee no more, But die, as many an exiled heart hath died, Of its own thirst to see again thy shore." Byron's Childe Harold What exile from himself can flee ? To zones, though more and more remote, Still, still pursues, where'er I be, The blight of life — the demon thought. Byron. Home, kindred, friends, and country — these Are ties with which we never part ; From clime to clime, o'er land and seas, We bear them with us in our heart : But, oh ! 't is hard to feel resign'd, When these must all be left behind ! J. Montgomery. But doth the exile's heart serenely there In sunshine dwell ? Ah ! when was exile blest ? When did bright scenes, clear heavens, or summer air Chase from his soul the fever of unrest ? Mrs. Hemavjs An exile, ill in heart and frame, — A wanderer, weary of the way ; — A stranger, without love's sweet claim On any heart, go where I may ! Mrs. Osgood Beloved country ! banish'd from thy shore, A stranger in this prison-house of clay, The exil'd spirit weeps and sighs for thee ! Heavenward the bright perfections I adore direct Longfellow's Poems 160 EXPERIENCE - EXPECTATION. And they who before were strangers, Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends lo each other. Longfellow's Evangeline. EXPERIENCE. Experience wounded is the school Where man learns piercing wisdom, out of smart. Lord Brook's Mustaplia. I know thy loyal heart, and prudent head ; Upon whose hairs, time's child, experience, hangs A milk-white badge of wisdom ; and can'st wield Thy tongue in senate, and thy hands in field. True Trojans. Experience is by industry achiev'd, And perfected by the swift course of time. Shaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona. To wilful men, The injuries that they themselves procure, Must be their schoolmasters. Shaks. Lear. Experience join'd with common sense, To mortals is a providence. Green's Spleen. 'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; And ask them what report they bore to heaven ; And how they might have borne more welcome news. Their answers form what men experience call ; If wisdom's friend, her best ; if not, worst foe. Young's Night TJioughts. Much had he read, Much more had seen : he studied from the life, And in th' original perus'd mankind. Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health. O teach him, while your lessons last, To judge the present by the past ; Remind him of each wish pursued, How rich it glow'd with promised good ; Remind him of each wish enjoy'd, How soon his hopes possession cloy'd ! Scott's Rokeby. For most men (till by losing render'd sager) Will back their own opinions with a wager. Byron's Beppo. And these vicissitudes tell best in youth ; For when they happen at a riper age, People are apt to blame the fates forsooth, And wonder Providence is not more sage. \dversity is the first path to truth : He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage, Whethei his winters be eighteen or eighty, Uatn won the experience which is deem'd so weighty. Byron. Her hopes ne'er drew Aught from experience, that chill touchstone whosa Sad proof reduces all things from their hue. Byron's Island. Experience teachethmany things, and all men are his scholars ; Yet is he a strange tutor, untcaching that which he hath taught. Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy. A thousand volumes in a thousand tongues, enshrine the lessons of Experience ; Yet a man shall read them all, and go forth none the wiser ; If self-love lendeth him a glass, to colour all he conneth, Lest in the features of another he find his own com- plexion. Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy. EXPECTATION Now sits expectation in the air, And hides a sword, from hilt unto the point, With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets, Promis'd to Harry and his followers. Shaks. Henry V. So tedious is this day, As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes, And may not wear them. Shaks. Romeo and Juliet. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises : and oft it hits Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. Shahs. All's WeU How slow This old moon wanes : she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue. Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream. Oh ! how impatience gains upon the soul, When the long promised hour of joy draws near ! How slow the tardy moments seem to roll ! What spectres rise of inconsistent fear ! To the fond doubting heart its hopes appear Too brightly fair, too sweet to realize ; All seem but day-dreams of delight too dear ! Strange hopes and fears in painful contest rise, While the scarce-trusted bliss seems but to cheat the eyes. Mrs. Tighe's Psyche. " Yet doth he live !" exclaims the impatient heir, And sighs for sables which he must not wear. Byron's Lara. EXTRAVAGANCE-EXTREMES -EYES. 161 Gay was the love of paradise he drew And pictured in his fancy ; he did dwell Upon it till it had a life ; he threw A tint of heaven athwart it — who can tell The yearnings of his heart, the charm, the spell, That bound him to that vision Percival. EXTRAVAGANCE. 'T is not unknown to you, Antonio, How much I have disabled mine estate, By something- showing- a more swelling port, Than my faint means would grant continuance. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. The man who builds and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away. Young's Love of Fame. Behold, Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit, Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit ; What late he call'd a blessing, now was wit, And God's good providence a lucky hit. Things change their titles as their manners turn : His counting-house employ'd the Sunday morn : Seldom at church, ('t was such a busy life) But duly sent his family and wife. Pope's Moral Essays. For what has Virro painted, built and planted ? Only to show how many tastes he wanted. What brought Sir Visto's ill-got wealth to waste? Some demon whisper'd, Visto has a taste. Pope's Moral Essays. We sacrifice to dress, till household joys And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, And keeps our larder lean ; puts out our fires, And introduces hunger, frost and woe, Where peace and hospitality might reign. Coicper's Task. Mansions once Knew their own masters, and laborious hinds, That had surviv'd the father, serv'd the son. Now the legitimate and rightful lord Is but a transient guest, newly arrived, And soon to be supplanted. He that saw His patrimonial timber cast its leaf, Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price To some shrewd sharper ere it buds again. Estates are landscapes, gazed upon awhile, Then advertised and auctioneer'd away. Cow-pet's Task. Dreading that climax of all human ills, The inflammation of his weekly bills. Byron. In my young days they lent me cash that way, Which I found very troublesome to pay. Byron. EXTREMES. Extremes, though contrary, have the like effect* Extreme heat mortifies like extreme cold ; Extreme love breeds satiety, as well As extreme hatred ; and too violent rigour Tempts chastity as much as too much licence. Chapman's All FooU Those edges soonest turn, that are most keen, A sober moderation stands sure, No violent extremes endure. Aleyn's Crescey They are as sick, that surfeit with too much, As they that starve with nothing ; therefore it Is no mean happiness to be seated In the mean ; superfluity comes sooner By white hairs, but competency lives longer Shaks. Merchant of Venice. These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die ; like fire and powder. Which, as they meet, consume. The sweetept honey Is loathsome in its own deliciousness. And in the taste confounds the appetite ; Therefore love moderately, long love doth so * Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. Shaks. Romeo and Juliet 'T is in worldly accidents, As in the world itself, where things most distant Meet one another : Thus the east and west, Upon the globe a mathematical point Only divides : Thus happiness and misery, And all extremes, are still contiguous. Denham's Sophy Let wealth come in by comely thrift, And not by any sordid shift ; 'T is haste Makes waste ; Extremes have still their fault. Who gripes too hard the dry and slipp'ry sand, Holds none at all, or little, in his hand. Hernck EYES. Long while I sought to what I might compare Those powerful eyes, which lighten my dark spirj» Yet found I nought on earth, to which I dare Resemble the image of their goodly light Not to the sun, for they do shine by night ; Nor to the moon, for they are changed never ; Nor to the stars, for they have purer sight; Nor to the fire, for they consume not ever , Nor to the lightning, for they still persever 14* 162 EYES. Nc to the diamond, for they arc more tender ; Nor unto crystal, for nought may them sever ; Nor unto glass, such baseness might offend her. Then to the Maker's self they likest be ; Whose light doth lighten aU that here we see. »S^enser. In her two eyes two living lamps did flame, Kindled above, at the heavenly light, And darting fiery beams out of the same, So passing pearceant, and so wondrous bright, That quite bereaved the rash beholders of their sight. Spenser. From women's eyes this doctrine I derive ; They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academies, That show, contain, and nourish all the world, Else, none at all in aught proves excellent. Shaks. Love's Labour. Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye : 'T is pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes — that are the frail'st and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomies — Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers ! Shahs. As You Like It. Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee : Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush, The cicatrice and capable impressure Thy palm some moment keeps : but now mine eyes, Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not. Shales. As You Like It. Faster than his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. Shakspeare. These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, To search the secret treasons of the world. Shaks. Henry VI. Part III. 1 hose eyes, whose light seem'd rather given To be ador'd than to adore — Such eyes as may have look'd from heaven, hut ne'er were rais'd to it before ! Moore's Loves of the Angels. And then ner look — Oh, where 's the heart so wise, Could, unbewilder'd, meet those matchless eyes ? Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal, Like those of angels. Moore. Her eye (I 'm very fond of handsome eyes) Was .arge and dark, suppressing half its fire Until she spoke ; then, through its soft disguise, Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire, And love inan either. Byron. Her glance, how wildly beautiful. Byron Soul bcam'd forth in every spark That darted from beneath the lid, Bright as the jewel of Giamschid. Byrcn. Those eyes, Soft and capacious as a cloudless sky, Whose azure depths their colour emulates, Must needs be conversant with upward looks, Prayer's voiceless service. Wordsworth. Eyes with the same blue witchery as those Of Psyche, which caught Love in his own wiles. Translated from the Italian. Love has a fleeter messenger than speech, To tell love's meaning. His expresses post Upon the orbs of vision, ere the tongue Can shape them into words. G. Coleman, Jr. His dark, pensive eye, Speaks the high soul, the thought sublime That dwells on immortality. Charlotte Elizabeth. Look on his eyes, and thou wilt find A sadness in their beam, Like the pensive shades that willows cast On the sky-reflected stream. Eliza Cook. — Eyes that droop like summer flowers Told they could change with shine and showers. Miss Landon. Her deep blue eyes smil'd constantly — as if they had by fitness Won the secret of a happy dream, she did not care to speak. Miss Barrett. Thy brown eyes have looks like birds, Flying straightway to the light. Miss Barrett. Folded eyes see brighter colours than the open ever do. Bliss Barrett. Those eyes, those eyes, how full of heaven they are. When the calm twilight leaves the heaven most holy! Tell me, sweet eyes, from what divinest star Did ye drink in your liquid melancholy ? Tell me, beloved eyes ! Bulwer. Some praise the eyes they love to see, As rivalling the western star ; But eyes I know well worth to me A thousand firmaments afar. Jthn Sterling FACTION- FAIRIES. 163 Those eyes that wore so bright, love, Have now a dimmer shine ; But -what they Ve lost in light, love, Is what they ga\e to mine. And still those orbs reflect, love, The beams of former hours, That ripen'd all my joys, love, And tinted all my flowers. Hood. I never saw an eye so bright, And yet so soft, as hers ; It sometimes swam in liquid light, And sometimes swam in tears ; It seem'd a beauty set apart For softness and for sighs. Mrs. Welby. Those laughing orbs, that borrow From azure slues the light they wear, Are like heaven — no sorrow Can float o'er hues so fair. Mrs. Osgood. The soft blue eye, That looks as it had open'd first in heaven, And caught its brightness from the seraphs' gaze, As flowers are fairest where the sunbeams fall. Mrs. Hale's Ortnond Grosvenor. A sweet wild girl, with eye of earnest ray, And olive cheek, at each emotion glowing. Mrs. Sigourney. His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky In the serenest noon. Willis. I have sat, And in the blue depths of her stainless eyes Have gazed ! WUlis. Those eyes, — among thine elder friends Perhaps they pass for blue ; — No matter, — if a man can see, What more have eyes to do ? O. 17. Holmes. I look upon the fair blue skies, And naught but empty air I see ; But when I turn me to thine eyes, It seemeth unto me Ten thousand angels spread their wings Within those little azure rings. 0. W. Holmes. I'lie Dright black eye, the melting blue, 1 cannot choose between the two. But that is dearest, all the while, Which wears for us the sweetest smile. O. W. Holmes. FACTION. Some of the great ones first came fairly jn T' adore this idol, but the people do Run headlong in a wild devotion : As in a jack the greater wheels do go With soft and sober turnings ; but the less Are hurried with a whirling giddiness. Aleyris Henry VIS So false is faction, and so smooth a liar, As that it never had a side entire. Daniel. Seldom is faction's ire in haughty minds Extinguish'd but by death : it oft, like fire Suppress'd, breaks forth again, and blazes higher. May's Henry II. Avoid the politic, the factious fool, The busy, buzzing, talking, harden'd knave ; The quaint smooth rogue, that sins against his reason, Calls saucy loud sedition public zeal : And mutiny the dictates of his spirit. Otway FAIRIES. In silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade : We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wand'ring moon. Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream, Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes ; Feed him with apricots and dewberries ; With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And, for night tapers, crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes ; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes ; Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream, Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathoms deep ; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts, and wakes, And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. Shaks. Romeo and Juliet. And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice. Shaks. Romeo and Julift i64 FAITH. A. thousand fantasies Begin to tin mg ir*.o my memory, Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, And airy tongues, that syllable men's names On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. Milton's Comus. I took it for a fairy vision Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i' th' plighted clouds. Milton's Comus. Beautiful spirit! with thy hair of light, And dazzling eyes of glory, in whose form The charms of earth's least mortal daughters grow To an unearthly stature, in an essence Of purer elements ; while the hues of youth — Carnation'd like a sleeping infant's cheek, Rock'd by the beating of her mother's heart, Or the rose tints, which summer's twilight leaves Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow, The blush of earth, embracing with her heaven — Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame The beauties of the sunbow which bends o'er thee. Byron' 's Manfred. Oberon, Titania, Did your star-light mirth, With the song of Avon, Quit this work-day earth? Yet while green leaves glisten And while bright stars burn, By that magic memory, Oh, return, return ! Mrs. Hemans's Poems. Did you ever hear Of the frolic Fairies, dear ? They're a little blessed race, Peeping up in Fancy's face, In the valley, on the hill, By the fountain and the rill; Laughing out between the leaves That the loving summer weaves. Mrs. Osgood. Their harps are of the amber shade, That hides the blush of waking day, Ajid evvry gleaming string is made Of silvery moonshine's lengthen'd ray. Drake's Culprit Fay. As at the glimpse of morning pale, The lance-fly spreads his silken sail, And gleams with blendings soft and bright, Till lost in shade of fading night ; — So rose from earth the lovely Fay, — S<\ vanish'd far in heaven away ! Drake's Culprit Fay. The tender violets bent in smiles To elves that sported nigh, Tossing the drops of fragrant dew To scent the evening sky; They kiss'd the rose in love and mirth, And its petals fairer grew; A shower of pearly dust they brought, And o'er the lily threw. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith's Sinless Child FAITH. True faith and reason are the soul's two eyes , Faith evermore looks upward, and descries Objects remote ; but reason can discover Things only near, — sees nothing that's above her: They are not matches, — often disagree, And sometimes both are clos'd and neither see. Faith views the sun, and reason but the shade ; One courts the mistress, th' other wooes the maid That sees the fire, this only but the flint ; The true-bred Christian always looks asquint. Quarles If fore'd from faith, for ever miserable : For what is misery but want of God, And God is lost if faith be overthrown. Soliman and Perseda Tradition ! time's suspected register ! Too oft religion at her trial fails ; Instead of knowledge, teacheth her to err, And wears out truth's best stories into tales. Sir W. Davenant. If faith with reason never doth advise, Nor yet tradition leads her, she is then From heav'n inspir'd ; and secretly grows wise Above the schools, we know not how, nor when. Sir W. Davenant. Faith lights us through the dark to deity ; Whilst, without sight, we witness that she shows More God than in his works our eyes can see ; Though none but by those works the Godhead knows. Sir W. Davenant. When the soul grants what reason makes her see, That is true faith, what 's more 's credulity. Sir F. Fane. For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; His can 't be wrong whose life is in the right. Popp, Faith builds a bridge across the gulf- of death, To break the shock blind nature cannot shun, And lands thought smoothly on the further shore. Young's Night Thoughts. And melancholy fear subdued by faith. Wordsworth. FALL -FALSEHOOD. 165 Nought shall prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is fuli of blessings. Wordsworth. But faith, fanatic faith, once wedded fast To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. Moore's Lalla Rookh. True faith nor biddeth nor abideth form. The bended knee, the eye uplift, is all Which man need render ; all which God can bear. What to the faith are forms ? A passing speck, A crow upon the sky. Bailey's Festus. Faith is the subtle chain That binds us to the Infinite : the voice Of a deep life within, that will remain Until we crowd it thence. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith. Faith loves to lean on time's destroying arm, And age, like distance, lends a double charm. O. W. Holmes. Great faith it needs, according to my view, To trust in that which never could be true. Park Benjamin. FALL. Some falls are means the happier to rise. Shaks. Cymbeline. I 've touch'd the highest point of all my greatness : And from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting. I shall fall, Like a bright exhalation in the evening ; And no man see me more. Shaks. Henry VIII. He, that this morn rose proudly as the sun, And breaking through a mist of clients' breath, Came on as gaz'd at, and admir'd as he, When superstitious Moors salute his light ! That had our servile nobles waiting him As common grooms ; and hanging on his look, No less than human life on destiny ! That had men's knees as frequent as the gods ; And sacrifices more than Rome had altars ; And this man fall ! fall ! ay, without a look, That durst appear his friend, or lend so much ■Of vain relief, to his chang'd state, as pity ! Jonsorts Sejanus. Who bravely fall have this one happiness, Kbove the conqueror ; they share his fame, \nd have more love, and an unenvy'd name. Crown's Darius. When once a shaking monarchy declines, tus^h thing grows bold and to its fall combines. Crown's Charles VIII. of France. FALSEHOOD. What wit so sharp is found in age or youth, That can distinguish truth from treachery? Falsehood puts on the face of simple truth, And masks i* th' habit of plain honesty, When she in heart intends most villany. Mirror fur Magistrates. Money and man a mutual falsehood show, Men make false money, — money makes men so. Aleyrfs Henry VII. Every man in this age has not a soul Of crystal for all men to read their actions Through : men's hearts and faces are so far asunder, That they hold no intelligence. Beaumont and Fletcher's False One How false are men, both in their heads and hearts* And there is falsehood in all trades and arts. Lawyers deceive their clients by false law; Priests, by false gods, keep all the world in awe. For their false tongues such flatt'ring knaves aro rais'd, For their false wit, scribblers by fools are prais'd. Crown's Caligula Who should be trusted when one's own right hand Is perjur'd to the bosom ? Protheus. I am sorry, I must never trust tnee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest. Shaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair ! farewell ! Thou pure impiety, and impious purity ! For thee I '11 lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious. Shaks. Much Ado. You told a lie ; an odiors, damned lie ; Upon my soul a lie ; a wicked lie. Shaks. Othello So the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abus'd. Shaks. Hamlet Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, And ne'er a true one ' Shah* Dishonour waits on perfidy. The villain Should blush to think a falsehood: 'Tis the crime Of cowards. C. Johnson's Sultaness The seal of truth is on thy gallant form, For none but cowards 1 * Murphy's Atom: 106 FAME. Lei false i-od be a stranger to thy lips ; Shame on the policy that first began To tamper with the heart to hide its thoughts ! And douoly shame on that inglorious tongue That sold its honesty and told a lie. Havar(Ts Regulus. The man of pure and simple heart Through life disdains a double part, He never needs the screen of lies His inward bosom to disguise. Gaifs Fables. Oh ! colder than the wind that freezes Founts that but now in sunshine play'd, Is that congealing pang which seizes The trusting bosom when betray'd. Moore. Then fare thee well — I 'd rather make My bower upon some icy lake, When thawing suns begin to shine, Than trust to love so false as thine. Moore. Out on our beings' falsehood ! studied, cold — Are we not like that actor of old time, Who wore his mask so long his features took Its likeness? Miss London. I live among the cold, the false, And I must seem like them ; And such I am, for I am false As those I most condemn. Miss London. The sting of falsehood loses half its pain If our own soul bear witness — we are true. Mrs. Hale. Agony ! keen agony, For trusting heart to find That vows believed, were vows conceived As light as summer wind. Motherwell. 1 scorn this hated scene Of masking and disguise, Where men on men still gleam, With falseness in their eyes ; Where all is counterfeit, And truth hath never say; vVhere hearts themselves do cheat, Concealing hope's decay. Motherwell. We hear, indeed, but shudder while we hear, The insidious falsehood, and the heartless jeer : For each dark libel that thou lik'st to shape, Thou mayst from law, but not from scorn escape ; The pointed finger, cold averted eye, Insulted virtue's hiss — thou canst not fly. Charles Sprague. What is man's love ! his vows are broke, Even while his parting kiss is warm. Halletk Ah ! doom'd indeed to worse than death, To teach those sweet lips hourly guile ; To breathe through life but falsehood's breath, And smile with falsehood's smile ! Mrs. Osgoou FAME. Then straight thro' all the world 'gan fame to fly A monster swifter none is under sun ; Increasing as in waters we descry The circles small, of nothing that begun; Which at the length, unto such breadth do come, That of a drop which from the skies do fall, The circles spread and hide the waters all : So fame in flight increaseth more and more : For at the first, she is not scarcely known, But by and by she fleets from shore to shore, To clouds from the earth her stature straight is grown : There whatsoever by her trump is blown, The sound that both by sea and land outflies, Rebounds again and verberates the skies. Mirror for Magistrates. The voice of fame should be as loud as thunder Her house is all of echo made, Where never dies the sound ; And, as her brows the clouds invade, Her feet do strike the ground. Sing then good fame, that 's out of virtue born ; For who doth fame neglect, doth virtue scorn. Jonson's Masque of Queens The life of fame is action understood ; That action must be virtuous, great, and good. Virtue itself by fame is oft protected, And dies despised, where the fame 's neglected. Jonson's Clorinda Talk not to me of fond renown, the rude, Inconstant blast of the base multitude : Their breaths, nor souls can satisfaction make, For half the joys I part with for their sake. Crown. Death makes no conquest of this conqueror ; For now he lives in fame though not in life. Shaks. Richard III The evil that men do, lives after them ; The good is oft interred with their bones. Shaks. Julius Caisar Men's evil manners live in brass : their virtues We write in water. Shaks. Henry VIII. FAME. ie» Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heav'n ! Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not remember'd in thy epitaph. Shaks. Henry IV. Part I. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Liv© register'd upon our brazen tombs, And then grace us in the disgrace of death. Shaks. Love's Labour. After my death I wish no other herald, N;> other speaker of my living actions, To Aeep mine honour from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. Shaks. Henry VIII. 0, your desert speaks loud ; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves with characters of brass A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. Shaks. Mea. for Mea. The fame that a man wins himself is best ; That he may call his own : honours put on him Make him no more a man than his clothes do, Which are as soon ta'en off; for in the warmth The heat comes from the body not the weeds ; So man's true fame must strike from his own deeds. Middleton. Vain empty words Of honour, glory, and immortal fame, Can these recall the spirit from its place, Or re-inspire the breathless clay with life ? What tho' your fame with all its thousand trumpets, Sound o'er the sepulchres, will that awake The sleeping dead. Sewell's Sir Walter Raleigh. I courted fame but as a spur to brave And honest deeds ; and who despises fame Will soon renounce the virtues that deserve it. MalleVs Mustapha. Some when they die, die all ; their mould'ring clay Is but an emblem of their memories ; The space quite closes up thro' which they pass'd : That I have liv'd, I leave a mark behind, Shall pluck the shining age from vulgar time, And give it whole to late posterity. Young's Busiris. In stress of weather, most ; some sink outright ; O'er them, and o'er their names, the billows close ; To-morrow knows not they were ever born. Others a short memorial leave behind, Like a flag floating, when the bark's ingulph'd; It floats a moment and is seen no more : One Caesar lives ; a thousand are forgot. Young's Night Thoughts. Knows he, that mankind praise a go." ^st tneir win And mix as much detraction as they can ? Knows he, that faithless fame her whisper has. As well as trumpet ? That his vanity Is so much tickled from not hearing all ? Youngs Night Thought." With fame, in just proportion, envy grows ; The man that makes a character, makes foes. Young's Epistle to Pope Fame is a public mistress, none enjoys, But, more or less, his rival's peace destroys. Young's Epistle to Pope Of boasting more than of a bomb afraid, A soldier should be modest as a maid : Fame is a bubble the reserv'd enjoy ; Who strive to grasp it, as they touch destroy : 'Tis the world's debt to deeds of high degree; But if you pay yourself, the world is free. Young's Love of Fanu What so foolish as the chase of fame ? How vain the prize ! how impotent our aim ! For what are men who grasp at praise sublime. But bubbles on the rapid stream of time, That rise and fall, that swell, and are no more, Born and forgot, ten thousand in an hour. Young's Love of Fame A prattling gossip, on whose tongue Proof of perpetual motion hung, Whose lungs in strength all lungs surpass, Like her own trumpet made of brass ; Who with a hundred pair of eyes, The vain attacks of sleep defies ; Who with a hundred pair of wings News from the farthest quarters brings ,* Sees, hears, and tells, untold before, All that she knows, — and ten times more. Churchill. Absurd ! to think to overreach the grave, And from the wreck of names to rescue ours : The best concerted schemes men lay for fame Die fast away : only themselves die faster. The far-fam'd sculptor, and the laurel'd bard, Those bold insurers of eternal fame, Supply their little feeble aids in vain. Blair's Gratt Sepulchral columns wrestle, but in vain, With all-subduing time ; her cankering hand With calm deliberate malice wasteth them : Worn on the edge of days, the brass consume^ The busto moulders, and the deep-cut marbW, Unt 4 eady to the steel, gives up its charge. AmbnJon, half-convicted of her folly, Hangs down the head and reddens at the taie Blair Grav* 168 FAME. For fame the wretch beneath the gallows lies, Disowning every crime for which he dies, Of life profuse, tenacious of a name, Fearless of death, and yet afraid of shame. Nature has wove into the human mind This anxious care of names we leave behind, T' extend our narrow views beyond the tomb, And give an earnest of a life to come ; For if, when dead, we are but dust or clay, Why think of what posterity will say ? Her praise or censure cannot us concern, Nor ever penetrate the silent urn. Soame Jennyns. What 's fame ? a fancied life in others' breath, A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death. Just what you hear, you have; and what's unknown, The same, my lord, if Tully's, or your own. All that we feel of it begins and ends In the small circle of our foes or friends; To all beside as much an empty shade, As Eugene living, as a Csesar dead. Pope's Essay on Man. All fame is foreign, but of true desert ; Plays round the head, but comes not near the heart ; One self-approving hour whole years outweighs Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas ; And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels, Than Caesar with a senate at his heels. Pope's Essay on Man. And what is fame ? the meanest have their day ; The greatest can but blaze, and pass away. Pope. Ah me ! full sorely is my heart forlorn To think how modest worth neglected lies, While partial fame doth with her blasts adorn Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise, Deeds of ill sort, and mischievous emprise. Shenstone's Schoolmistress. Will fortune, fame, my present ills relieve ? And what is fame, that flutt'ring noisy sound, But the cold lie of universal vogue ? Thousands of men fall in the field of honour, Whose glorious deeds die in inglorious silence, Whilst vaunting cowards, favour'd by blind fortune, Reap all the fruit of their successful toils, And build their fame upon their noble ruins. H. Smith's Princess of Parma. "Stern sons of war !" sad Wilfred sigh'd, • Behold the boast of Roman pride ! vVhat now of all your toils are known ? A g rassy trench, a broken stone !" Scott's Robeky. He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale. Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. Men's actions to futurity appear, But as th' events to which they are conjoin'd To give them consequence. A fallen state, In age and weakness fall'n, no hero hath ; For none remains behind unto whose pride The cherish'd mem'ry of his acts pertains. Joanna Baillie's Constantine Paleologus Who, that surveys this span of earth we press, This speck of life in time's great wilderness, This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, The past, the future, two eternities ! Would sully the bright spot or leave it bare, When he might build him a proud temple there, A name, that long shall hallow all its space, And be each purer soul's high resting-place ! Moore's Lalla Rookh Fame is the thirst of youth, — but I am not So young as to regard men's frown or smile, As loss or guerdon of a glorious lot ; I stood and stand alone, — remember'd or forgot. Byron's Childe Harold. But there are deeds which should not pass away, And names that must not wither, though the earth Forgets her empires with a just decay, The enslavers and the enslaved, their death ana birth ; The high, the mountain majesty of worth Should be, and shall, survivor of its woe, And from its immortality look forth In the sun's face, like yonder Alpine snow, Imperishably pure beyond all things below. Byron's Childe Harold Thy fanes, thy temples to the surface bow, Commingling slowly with heroic earth, Broke by the share of every rustic plough : So perish monuments of mortal birth, So perish all in turn, save well-recorded worth. Byron's Childe Harold. What is the end of fame ? 't is but to fill A certain portion of uncertain paper ; Some liken it to climbing up a hill, Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour ; For this men write, speak, preach, and heioes kill, And bards burn what they call their " midnight taper," To have, when the original is dust, A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust. Byron And glory long has made the sag*>s smile ; 'Tis something, nothing, words, illusion, wind — Depending more upon the historian's style Than on the name a person leaves behind Byion FANCY. 109 Tis as a i.now-ball which derives assistance From eveiy flake, and yet rolls on the same, Even till an iceberg it may chance to grow; But after all 't is nothing but cold snow. Byron, Gaze Upon the shade of those distinguish'd men, Who were or are the puppet-shows of praise — The praise of persecution. Gaze again On the most favour'd ; and amidst the blaze Of sunset halos o'er the laurel-brow'd, What can ye recognise ? a gilded cloud. Byron. What of them is left, to tell Where they he, and how they feD ? Xot a stone on their turf, nor a bone in their graves ; But they live in the verse immortality saves. Byron's Siege of Corinth. The very generations of the dead Are swept away, and tomb inherits tomb, Until the memory of an age is fled, And, buried, sinks beneath its offspring's doom. Byron., Yet I love glory ; — glory 's a great thing ; Think what it is to be in your old age Maintain' d at the expense of your good king : A moderate pension shakes full many a sage, And heroes are but made for bards to sing, Which is still better ; thus in verse to wage Your wars eternally, besides enjoying Half-pay for life, make mankind worth destroying. Byron. Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust Is vile as vulgar day, Thy scales, mortality ! are just To all that pass away. Byron's Ode to Xapoleon. Yet vanity herself had better taught A surer path even to the fame he sought, By pointing out on history's fruitless page Ten thousand conquerors for a single sage, "While Franklin's quiet mem'ry climbs to Heaven, Calming the lightning which he thence had riven^ Or drawing from the no less kindled earth Freedom and peace to that which boasts his birth ; Washington 's a watchword, such as ne'er Shall sink while there 's an echo left to air. Byron. Thou hast a charmed cup, Fame A draught that mantles high, And seems to lift this earthly frame Above mortality. Away ! to me — a woman — bring Sweet waters from affection's spring ! Mrs. Neman's Poems. Fame ! Fame ! thou canst not be the stay Unto the drooping reed, The cool fresh fountain in the day Of the soul's feverish need : Where must the lone one turn or flee ? Xot unto thee, oh ! not to thee ! Mrs. Neman* Of all the phantoms fleeting in the mist Of Time, though meagre all and ghostly thin, Most unsubstantial, unessential shade Was earthly Fame. Pollock's Course of Time. I am a woman : — tell me not of fame, The eagle's wing may sweep the stormy path, And fling back arrows where the dove would die Miss Landoris Poernt. Nor let thy noble spirit grieve, Its life of glorious fame to leave ; — A life of honour and of worth Has no eternity on earth. Longfellow' 's Poems The world may scorn me, if they choose — I care But little for their scofhngs. I may sink For moments ; but I rise again, nor shrink From doing what the faithful heart inspires. I will not flatter, fawn, nor crouch, nor wink, At what high-mounted wealth or power d. I have a loftier aim, to which my soul aspiies. Peravai We tell thy doom without a sigh, For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's — One of the few immortal names That were not born to die. Halleck's Bozzaria FANCY. Tell me, where is fancy bred ; Or in the heart, or in the head? How begot, how nourished? It is engendered in the eyes, With gazing fed: and thncy dies In the cradle where it lies. Shales. Merchant of Vemit All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy. Shaks. All's WeU Ever let the fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home ; Then let winged Fancy wander Through the thoughts still spread beyond her Oh, sweet Fancy ! let her loose, Every thing is spoilt by use. Kent Poem* 15 173 FAREWELL-FARMER-FATHER. So fancy dreams Dispro\e it, if ye can, Ye rcas'nrrs broad awake, whose busy search Of argument, cmploy'd too oft amiss, Sifts half tr 3 pleasures of short life away. Compels Yardley Oak. Pleasant at noon, beside the vocal brook, To lie one down and watch the floating clouds, And shape to Fancy's wild imaginings, Their ever-varying forms. Southey. Woe to the youth whom Fancy gains, Winning from reason's hand the reins. Scott's Rokeby. Fancy is a fairy, that can hear, Ever, the melody of nature's voice, And see all lovely visions that she will. Mrs. Osgood. A dream of thee, aroused by fancy's power, Shall be the first to wander slowly by ; And they, who never saw thy lovely face, Shall pause to conjure up a vision of thy grace. Mrs. Norton. FAREWELL. So fare thee well, — and may th' indulgent gods * * * grant thee every wish Thy soul can form ! Once more farewell ! Sophocles. And farewell goes out sighing. Shaks. Troilus and Cressida. Farewell ; thou canst not teach me to forget. Shaks. Romeo arid Juliet. Farewell ! I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. Shaks. Romeo and Juliet. Fare thee well ! yet think awhile On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee ; Who now would rather trust thy smile, And die with thee, than live without thee. Mo re. Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh ; Oh ! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, Are in the word, farewell — farewell! Byron. Farewell ! there 's but one pang in death, One only, — leaving thee! Mrs. Hemans. ^arewell' the early dews that fall Upon thy grass-grown-bed, A.re like tne thoughts that now recall Thine image of the dead. A. blessing hallows thy dark cell — 1 will noi sray to weep. — Farewell. Miss London. I ever trembled in my bliss ; Now there are farewells in a kiss. Ebenezcr Elliott And now farewell ! farewell ! I dare noi lengthen These sweet sad moments out ; to gaze on the# Is bliss indeed, yet it but serves to strengthen The love that now amounts to agony ; This is our last farewell. Mrs. Welby I heard thy low-whisper'd farewell, love, And silently saw thee depart ; — Ay, silent; — for how could words tell, love, The sorrow that swell'd in my heart ? They could not — Oh ! language is faint, When passion's devotion would speak ; Light pleasure or pain it may paint, But with feelings like ours it is weak ! Yet tearless and mute though I stood, love, Thy last words are thrilling me yet, And my heart would have breathed, if it could, love, And murmur'd, " Oh ! do not forget !" Mrs. Osgood. Farewell — thou hast trampled love's faith in the dust, Thou hast torn from my bosom its hope and its trust ; Yet, if thy life's current with bliss it would swell, I would pour out my own in this last fond farewell : Hoffman. And, like some low and mournful spell, To whisper but one word — farewell ! Park Benjamin. FARMER.— (See Labour.) FATHER. To you your father should be as a god , One that compos'd your beauties ; yea, and one, To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure, or disfigure it. Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream Leon. — Are you so fond of your young prince as we Do seem to be of ours ? Dol. If at home, sir, He 's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter : Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy : My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all : He makes a July's day short as December ; And, with his varying childness, cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood. Shaks. Winter's Tale FASHION -FATE. 171 But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on ; mine so much, That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her. Shaks. Much Ado. The child is father of the man. Wordsworth. If there be a human tear From passion's dross refin'd and clear, 'T is that by loving father shed Upon a duteous daughter's head. ScotVs Lady of the Lake. And we '11 do all that father likes ; His wishes are so few, Would they were more ! that every hour Some wish of his I knew ! I 'm sure it makes a happy day, When I can please him any way. Mary Howitt. My father's praise I did not miss, What time he stooped down to kiss The poet at his knee. Miss Barrett. FASHION. Fashion, a word which knaves and fools may use, Their knavery and folly to excuse. ChurchilVs Rosciad. The town, as usual, met him in full cry ; The town, as usual, knew no reason why: But fashion so directs, and moderns raise On fashion's mould'ring base their transient praise. Churchill. Fashion, leader of a chatt'ring train, Whom man for his own hurt permits to reign, Who shifts and changes all things but his shape, And would degrade her vot'ry to an ape, The fruitful parent of abuse and wrong, Holds a usurp'd dominion o'er his tongue, There sits and prompts him with his own disgrace, Prescribes the theme, the tone, and the grimace, And when accomplish'd in her wayward school, Calls gentleman whom she has made a fool. Cowpefs Conversation. In tne great world — which being interpreted Meaneth the west or worst end of a city, And about twice two thousand people bred By no means to be very wise or witty, But to sit up while others lie in bed, And look down on the universe with pity, — Juan, as an inveterate patrician, Was well received by persons of condition. Byron. The company is " mixed" (The phrase I quote is As much as saying, they 're below your notict- Byro* Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion, Round the wealthy bride ; But when compar'd with real passion Poor is all that pride, — What are their showy treasures ? What are their noisy pleasures ? The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art — The polish'd jewels blaze May draw the wond'ring gaze, But never, never can come near the worthy heart Burns Oh ! wreathe the ribbon lightly round, And tie it 'neath your chin ; And do not let its folds be bound By needle or by pin ! It is unworthy, lady dear, Your dignity of mind, To take such trouble with your gear. Mrs. Osgood Fashion's smiles, that rich ones claim, Are beams of a wintry day ; How cold and dim those beams would be Should life's poor wanderer come ! Mrs. Hale FATE. What fates impose, that men must needs abide ; It boots not to resist both wind and tide. Shaks. Henry VI. Part III Success, the mark no mortal wit, Or surest hand, can always hit ; For whatsoe'er we perpetrate, We do but row ; we 're steer'd by fate, Which in success oft disinherits, For spurious causes, noblest merits. Butler's Hudibras. On what strange grounds we build our hopes and fears ! Man's life is all a mist, and in the dark Our fortunes meet us. If fate be not, then what can we foresee ? And how can we avoid it if it be ? If by free will in our own paths we move, How are we bounded by decrees above ? Whether we drive, or whether we are driven, If ill, 't is ours ; if good, the act of heav'n. Dryain. Alas, what stay is there in human state, Or who can shun inevitable fate ? The doom was written, the decree was past, Ere the foundations of the world were cast Drydtn 172 FAVOUR -FEAR. The gods arc just ; But how can finite measure infinite ? Whatever is, is in its causes just, Since all things are by fate, but poor blind man Sees but a part o' tli' chain, the nearest link, His eyes not carrying to that equal beam That poises all above. Dryden. It was my fate, That did not fashion me for nobler uses ; For if those stars, cross to me in my birth, Had not denied their prosperous influence to it, I might have ceased to be, and not as now To curse my being. Massinger. Man, tho' limited By fate, may vainly think his actions free, While all he does, was, at his hour of birth, Or by his gods, or potent stars, ordain'd. Rowe's Royal Convert. While warmer souls command, nay, make their fate. Thy fate made thee, and fore'd thee to be great. Moore. But Fate whirls on the bark, And the rough gale sweeps from the rising tide The lazy calm of thought. Sir Edward Lyiton Bulwer. FAVOUR. O momentary grace of mortal man, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God, Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast ; Ready, with every nod, to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep. Shaks. Richard III. There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. Shaks. Henry VIII. 'T is the curse of service ; Preferment goes by letter, and affection, Not by the old gradation, where each second Srood heir to the first Shaks. Othello. Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour — a great patience. Shaks. Henry VI 1, And so thrive Richard, as thy foes mav G»U ' And as my duty springs, so perish they That grudge one thought against your majesty Shaks. Henry VI. Part J 176 FIDELITY. If, in the course And process of this time, you can report, And prove it too, against mine honour aught, My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, or Against your sacred person, in God's name, Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt Shut door upon me, and so give me up To the sharpest kind of justice. Shots. Henry VIII. Nor is there living (I speak it with a single heart, my lords) A man that more detests, more stirs against, Both in his private conscience, and his place, Defacers of a public peace, than I do ; Pray heaven the king may never find a heart With less allegiance in it. Shots. Henry VIII. My vows and prayers Yet are the king's ; and till my soul forsake me, Shall cry for blessings on him : may he live Longer than I have time to tell his years ! Ever belov'd and loving, may his rule be ! And when old time shall lead him to his end, Goodness and he fill up one monument Shaks. Henry VIII. They for their truth, might better wear their heads, Than some, that have accus'd them, wear their hats. Shaks. Richard III. Heaven witness I have been to you a true and humble wife, At all times to your will conformable : Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, Yea subject to your countenance ; glad, or sorry, As I saw it inclin'd. Shales. Henry VIII Here I kneel : — If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, Either in discourse, or thought, or actual deed ; Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense Delighted them in any other form ; Or that I do not vet, and ever did, And ever will — though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement — love him dearly, Comfort forswear me ! Shaks. Othello. 1 durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake : if you think other, Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. If any wretch hath put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse : Tor, if she be not nonest, chaste, and true, Faere 's ao man hippy : ihe purest of their wives Is foul a? slander. Shaks. Othello. The credit that thy lady hath of thee Deserves thy trust ; and thy most perfect goodness Her assur'd confidence. Shaks. Cymbeline. Unkindness may do much ; And his unkindnees may defeat my life, But never taint my love. Shaks. Othello A loss of her, That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ; Of her, that loves him with that excellence That angels love good men with : even of her That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, Will bless the king. Shaks. Henry YIIi If this austere unsociable life Change not your offer made in heat of blood ; If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds, Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, But that it bear this trial, and last love ; Then, at the expiration of the year, Come challenge me. Shaks. Love's Labour. Here is my hand for my true constancy ; And when that hour o'erslips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not, Julia, fcr : y The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me, for my love's forgetfulness ! Shaks. Tico Gentlemen of V His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; His tears pure messengers sent from his heart : His heart as far from fraud, as heaven and earth, Shaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona. O heaven! were man But constant, he were perfect : that one error Fills him with faults. Shaks. Two < / Verona God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands ; And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, Shall be the label to another deed, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Turn to another, this shall slay them both, fcs. Romeo and / Chain me with roaring bear; ; Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house. O'er-cover'd quite with dead m g bones, With reeky shanks, and yellow kulls : Or bid me go into a new-made grave, And hide me with a c-:ah man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble ; And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. fi Ufaft Ro:7iec and Juliet FIDELITY. V False to his bed ! What is it to be false ? To lie in watch there, and to think on him ? To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? if sleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him, And cry myself awake ? that 's false to his bed, Is it? Sliaks. Cymbeline. Faithful found Among the faithless, faithful only he ; Among innumerable false, unmov'd, Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified ; His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; Nor number, nor example with him wrought To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind Though single. Milton's Paradise Lost. Well hast thou fought The better fight, who single hast maintain'd Against revolted multitudes the cause Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms ; And for the testimony of truth hast borne Universal reproach, far worse to bear Than violence. Milton's Paradise Lost. Confirm'd then I resolve, Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe : So dea r I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no fife. Milton's Paradise Lost. With thee Certain my resolution is to die ; How can I live without thee, how forego Thy sweet converse and love so dearly join'd, To live again in these 'wild woods forlorn ? Should God create another Eve, and I Another rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart ; no, no, I feel The link of nature draw me : flesh of my flesh, Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe. Milton's Paradise Lost. Trust repos'd in noble natures, Obliges them the more. Dryden's Assignation. Oh ! the tender ties, Close twisted with the fibres of the heart I Which broken, break them, and drain off the soul Of human joy, and make it pain to live. Young. Is there, kind heaven ! no constancy in man ? No steadfast truth, no generous fix'd affection, That can bear up against a selfish world ? NiO, there is none. Thomson's Tancred and Sigismunda. M She is as constant as the stars That never vary, and more chaste than they. Proctor' 8 Mirandola. In the day of woe, she ever rose Upon the mind with added majesty, As the dark mountain more sublimely tow'rs Mantled in clouds and storms. Joanna Baillie's De Montjord. Clotilda. — Hath time no power upon thy hopeless love? Imagine. — Yea, time hath power, and what a power I '11 tell thee, A power to change the pulses of the heart To one dull throb of ceaseless agony, To hush the sigh on the resigned lip And lock it in the heart, — freeze the hot tear, And bid it on the eye-lid hang for ever — Such power hath time o'er me. Maturin's Bertram, They said her cheek of youth was beautiful Till withering sorrow blanch'd the bright rose there ; But grief did lay his icy finger on it, And chill'd it to a cold and joyless statue Methought she caroll'd blithely in her youtn, As the couch' d nestling trills his vesper lay ; But song and smile, beauty and melody, And youth and happiness are gone from her, Perchance — even as she is — he would not scorn her, If he could know her — for, for him she's chang'd, She is much alter'd — but her heart — her heart! Maturin's Bertram If thou could' st speak, Dumb witness of the secret soul of Imogine, Thou might'st acquit the faith of womankind — Since thou wast on my midnight pillow laid, Friend hath forsaken friend, the brotherly tie Been lightly loos'd — The parted coldly met — Yea, mothers have with desperate hands wrought harm To little lives from their own bosoms lent. But woman still hath lov'd — if that indeed Woman e'er lov'd like me. Maturin's Bertram. Mark me, Clotilda, And mark me well ; I am no desperate wretch. Who borrows an excuse from shameful passion To make its shame more vile — I am a wretched, but a spotless wife. Maturin's Bcnrc&i Full many a miserable year hath past — She knows him as one dead, or worse than dead , And many a change her varied life hath known. But her heart none. Maturin's Bertram. 178 FIDELIT/ His sovereign's frown came next — Then bow'd the banners on his crested walls, Torn by the enemies' hand from their proud height ; Where twice two hundred years they mock'd the storm. The stranger's step profan'd his desolate halls, An e.xil'd, outcast, houseless, nameless object, He fled for life, and scarce by flight did save it. No hoary beadsman bid his parting step God speed — no faithful vassal follow'd him ; For fear had wither'd every heart but hers, Who amid shame and ruin lov'd him better. Maluriris Bertram. Ah ! then as nature's tenderest impulse wrought, With fond solicitude of love she sought To soothe his limbs upon their grassy bed, And make the pillow easy to his head ; She wiped his reeking temples with her hair, She shook the leaves to stir the sleeping air, Moisten'd his lips with kisses ; with her breath, Vainly essay'd to quell the fire of death, That ran and revell'd through his swollen veins With quicker pulses, and severer pains. Montgomery's World before the Flood. Thought ye your iron hands of pride Could break the knot that love had tied ? No : — let the eagle change his plume, The leaf its hue, the flow'r its bloom ; But ties around this heart were spun, That could not, would not, be undone ! Campbell. Oh ! what was love made for, if 't is not the same Thro' joy, and thro' torments,thro' glory and shame? Moore. Oh ! if there be an elysium on earth, It is this — When two that are link'd in one heavenly tie, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die. Moore. Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and melt in my arms, Like fairy-gifts, fading away ! Thou would'st still be ador'd, as this moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And. around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still ! It is not, while beauty and youth are thine own, And thy cheeks unprofan'd by a tear, That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known, To which f ime will but make thee more dear ! j Oh ! the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sun-flower turns to her god when he seta, The same look which she turn'd when he rose. Moore, Come rest in this bosom, my own stricken doer ! Tho' the herd hath fled from thee, thy home is still here; Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last ? Moorg. Though human, thou didst not deceive me, Though woman, thou didst not forsake, Though loved, thou forborest to grieve me, Though slander'd, thou never could'st shake, Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me, Though parted, it was not to fly, Though watchful, 't was not to defame me, Nor, mute, that the world might belie. Byrtn. Then let the fool, still prone to range And sneer on all who cannot change, Partake his jest with boasting boys, I envy not his varied joys, But deem such feeble, heartless man, Less than yon solitary swan ; Far, far beneath the shallow maid He left believing, and betray'd. Byron's Giaour That 's false ! a truer, nobler, trustier heart, More loving, or more loyal, never beat Within a human breast. I would not change My exiled, persecuted, mangled husband, Oppress'd but not disgrae'd, crush'd, overwhehn'd, Alive, or dead, for prince or paladin In story or in fable, with a world To back his suit. Dishonour'd ! — he dishonour'd I tell thee, doge, 't is Venice is dishonour'd. Byron's Two Foscari. Where is honour, Innate and precept-strengthen'd, 't is the rock Of faith connubial : where it is not — where Light thoughts are lurking, or the vanities Of worldly pleasure rankle in the heart, Or sensual throbs convulse it, well I know 'T were hopeless for humanity to dream Of honesty in such infected blood, Although 't were wed to him it covets most. Byron's Doge of Venice, Vice cannot fix, and virtue cannot change, The once fall'n woman must for ever fall ; For vice must have variety, while virtue Stands like the sun, and all which rolls around Drinks life, and light, and glory from her aspect Byron's Doge of Venki FIGHTING - FIRMNESS - FISHING - FLAG. 179 1 o soothe thy sickness, watch thy health, Partake, but never waste, thy wealth, Oi stand with smiles unmurmuring- by, And lighten half thy poverty ; Do all but close thy dying eye, For that I could not live to try. Byron's Bride of Abydos. Yet well my toils shall that fond breast repay, Though fortune frown, or falser friends betray. How dear the dream in darkest hours of ill, Should all be changed, to find thee faithful still. Be but thy soul, like Selim's, firmly shown ; To thee be Selim's tender as thy own ; To soothe each sorrow, share in each delight, Blend every thought, do all — but disunite. Byron's Bride of Abydos. Adah. — Alas! thou sinnest now, my Cain; thy words Sound impious in mine ears. Cain. — Then leave me! Adah. — Never, Though thy God left thee ! Byron's Cain. Pure as the snow the summer sun Never at noon hath look'd upon — Deep, as is the diamond wave, Hidden in the desert cave — Changeless, as the greenest leaves Of the wreath the cypress weaves — Hopeless, often, when most fond — Without hope or fear beyond Its own pale fidelity — And this woman's love can be. Miss Landon. For me — I have no lingering wish to rove; For though I worship all things fair and free, Of outward grace, of soul nobility, Happier than thou, I find them all in one, And I would worship at thy shrine alone. Miss Lynch. Yes ! — still I love thee : — Time, who sets His signet on my brow, And dims my sunken eye, forgets, The heart he could not bow; — Where love, that cannot perish, grows For one, alas ! that little knows How love may sometimes last ; Like sunshine wasting m the skies When clouds are overcast. Rufus Dawes. Within her heart was his image, -'."'loth'd in the beauty of love and youth, as last she beheld him, XJnly more beautiful made by his death-like silence and absence. Longfellow's Evangeline. My heart too firmly trusted, fondly gave Itself to all its tenderness a slave ; I had no wish but thee, and only thee ; I knew no happiness but only while Thy love-lit eyes were kindly turn'd on me. PercivaVs Poem* FIGHTING. — (See War.) FIRMNESS. — (See Determination) FISHING.— (See Angling.) FLAG. Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurl'd Th' imperial ensign, which full high advane'd Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind. Milton's Paradise Lost, A mighty power, my England, Is in that name of thine, To strike the fire from every heart Along the banner'd line ; And proudly hath it floated Through the battles of the sea, When the red-cross flag o'er smoke-wreaths play'd Like the lightning in its glee ! Mrs. H emans The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return. Campbell, When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurl'd her standard to the air. She tore the azure robe of night, And set her stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure, celestial white, With streakings of the morning light ; Then from his mansion in the sun She call'd her eagle-bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land. Drake Tho' many and bright are the stars that appea- In the flag by our country unfurl'd ; And the stripes that are swelling in majesty tht-io, Like rain-bows adorning the world ; Their light is unsullied, as those in the sky, By a deed that our fathers have done, And they 're leagued in as true and as holy a tie In that motto of — " Many in one." G. W. Cutter m FLATTERY. FLATTERER. Bright fl- g at yonder tapering mast, Fl ing out your field of a *urc blue ; Let star and stripe be westward cast, And point as Freedom's eagle flew ! Strain home ! O lithe and quivering spars ! Foint home my country's flag of stars ! Willis. FLATTERY. FLATTERER. That subtle serpent, servile flattery, Seldom infects the meaner man, that fears No change of state, through fortune's treachery ; She spits her poison at the mightiest peers, And with her charms enchants the prince's ears : In sweetest wood the worm doth soonest breed, The caterpillar on best buds doth feed. Mirror for Magistrates. If sly dissimulation credit win With any prince that sits on highest throne, With honey'd poison of sour sugar'd sin, It causeth him turn tyrant to his own, And to his state works swift confusion ; Above his cedar's top it high doth shoot, And canker-like devours it to the root. Mirror for Magistrates. Of all wild beasts, preserve me from a tyrant ; And of all tame — a flatterer. JonsorCs Sejanus. 'T is the fate of princes, that no knowledge Comes pure to them, but, passing through the eyes And ears of other men, it takes a tincture From every channel ; and still bears a relish Of flattery or private ends. Denhain's Sophy. Self-love never yet could look on truth, But with blear'd beams ; slick flattery and she Are twin-born sisters, and so mix their eyes, And if you sever one, the other dies. Ben Jonson. O thou world, great nurse of flattery, Why dost thou tip men's tongues with golden words, And poise their deeds with weight of heavy lead, That fair performance cannot follow promise ? that a man might hold the heart's close book And choke the lavish tongue, when it doth utter The breath of falsehood, not character'd there. Anon. Edward III. JV hy what a deal of candied courtesy, This fawning greyhound then did proffer me ! 1 ook. — when his infant fortune came to age, And — gentle Harry Percy, and, kind cousin, The devil take such cozeners ! — God forgive me ! Shahs. Henry IV. Part I. O, that men's ears should be To counsel deaf, but not to flattery 1 Shakspearu Who dares In purity of manhood stand upright, And say, this man's a flatterer? if one be, So are they all ; for every grize of fortune Is smooth'd by that below : the learned pate Ducks to the golden fool : all is oblique ; There 's nothing level in our cursed natures, But direct villany. Shaks. Timon of Athens. Why these looks of care ? Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft ; Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods, By putting on the cunning of a carper. Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive By that which has undone thee : hinge thy knee, And let his very breath, whom thou 'It observe, Blow off thy cap ; praise his most vicious strain, And call it excellent. Shaks. Timon of Athens. He loves to hear, That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers : But, when I tell him, he hates flatterers, He says, he does ; being then most flatter'd. Shaks. Julius Ccesar. Be not fond, To think that Csesar bears such rebel blood, That will be thaw'd from the true quality With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words, Low-crook'd curt'sies, and base spaniel fawning. Shaks. Julius C Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, / And leave eighteen. Shaks. Cymbeline. Nothing exceeds in ridicule, no doubt, A fool in fashion, but a fool that's out; His passioD for absurdity 's so strong, He cannot bear a rival in the wrong. Though wrong the mode, comply : more sense is shown In wearing others' follies than our own. Young. Our wise forefathers, born in sober days, Resign'd to fools the tart and witty phrasd , The motley coat gave warning for the jest, Excus'd the wound, and sanctified the pest ; But we from high to low all strive to sneer, Will all be wits, and not the livery wear. Stillingjlee. " Out, thou silly moon-struck elf; Back, poor fool, and hide thyself!" This is what the wise ones say, Should the idiot cross their way : But if we would closely mark, We should see him not all dark ; We should find we must not scorn The teachings of the idiot-born. Eliza Cook Art thou great as man can be ? — The same hand moulded him and thee. Hast thou talent ? — Taunt and jeer Must not fall upon his ear. Spurn him not ; the blemish'd part Had better be the head than heart. Thou wilt be the fool to scorn The teaching of the idiot-born. Eliza Cook. What matter though the scorn of fools be given. If the path follow'd lead us on to heaven ! Mrs. Hale's Poems FORGETFULNESS. Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out, Even to a full disgrace. Shaks. Coriolanu$~. 'Tis far off; And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Shaks. Tempest Fill with Forgetfulness, fill high ! yet stay — — 'Tis from the past we shadow forth the land Where smiles, long lost, again shall light our way — Though the past haunt me as a spirit, — yet I *- ask not to forget ! Mrs. Hemans. When I forget that the stars shine in air — When I forget that beauty is in stars — When I forget that love with beauty is — Will I forget thee : till then all things else.^J Bailey's Fesiu* If e'er I win a parting token, 'Tis something that has lost its power — A chain that has been used and broken, A ruin'd glove, a faded flower ; Something that makes my pleasure less, Something that means — forgetfulness. WuBm J84 FORGIVENESS. Will the soul Snatch the first moment of forgetfulncss To wanaer like a restless child away ? Willis's Poems. FORGIVENESS. Kneel not to me : The power that I have on you, is to spare you ; The malice towards you, to forgive you : live And deal with others better. Shaks. Cymheline. Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance. Shaks. Tempest. O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn ? Forgive me my foul murder ! — That cannot be ; since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murder, My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. Shaks. Hamlet. I'll not chide thee : l^et shame come when it will, I do not call it ; I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove : Mend when thou cans't ; be better at thy leisure. Shaks. King Lear. Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange pow'r After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd ; nor can be easily Repuls'd, without much inward passion felt, And secret sting of amorous remorse. Milton's Samson Agonistes. He added not, and from her turn'd ; but Eve Not so repuls'd, with tears that ceas'd not flowing, And tresses all disorder'd, at his feet Fell humble, and embracing them, besought His peace. Milton's Paradise Lost. While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, Between us two let there be peace. Milton's Paradise Lost. Forsake me not thus, Adam, witness heaven What love sincere, and reverence in my heart I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, rTnhappily deceiv'd ! thy suppliant, I beg, and clasp thy knees ; bereave me not, Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, Tny counsel in this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay : forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? Milton's Paradise Lost. Soon his heart relented Towards her, his life so late and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive in distress, Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking, His counsel whom she had displeas'd, his aid : As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, And thus with peaceful words uprais'd her soon. Milton's Paradise Lost Let us no more contend, nor blame Each other, blam'd enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten Each other's burden, in our share of woe. Milton's Paradise Lost Fall at his feet ; cling round his reverend knees , Speak to him with thy eyes ; and with thy tears Melt his cold heart, and wake dead nature in him : Crush him in thy arms; torture him with thy softness : Nor till thy prayers are granted, set him free. Otway's Venice Preserved. Thou shalt not force me from thee : Use me reproachfully, and like a slave : Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs On my poor head : I '11 bear it all with patience, Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty : Lie at thy feet, and kiss them, though they spurn me; Till wounded by my sufferings thou relent. And raise me to thy arms with dear forgiveness. Otway's Venice Preserved, Great souls forgive not injuries till time Has put their enemies into their power, That they may show forgiveness is their own Dry den's Duke of Guise, Thy narrow soul Knows not the godlike glory of forgiving ; Nor can thy cold, thy ruthless heart conceive How large the pow'r, how fix'd the empire is, Which benefits confer on generous minds : Goodness prevails upon the stubborn foes And conquers more than ever Caesar's sword did. Rome's Lady Jane Grey. 'Tis easier for the generous to forgive, Than for offence to ask it. Thomson's Edmund and Eleonora. Young men soon give, and soon forget affronts ; Old age is slow in both. Addison's C 1L0 If there be One of you all that ever from my presence I have with sadden'd heart unkindly sent, I here, in meek repentance, of him crave A brother's hand, in token of forgiveness. Joanna Baillie's Constantine Paltokgus FORMALITY- FORTITUDE - FORTUNE. 185 That curse shall be — forgiveness ! Thou hast the secret of my heart — Forgive, be generous, and depart. Byron. Scott. They who forgive most shall be most forgiven. Bailey's Festus. If I do wrong, forgive me or I die ; And thou wilt then be wretcheder than I ; — The unforgiving than the unforgiven. Bailey. FORMALITY. There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond ; And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be'drest in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say, I am sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark ! Shaks. Merchant of Venice. Lord Angelo is precise ; Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone. Shaks. Mea. for Mea. Oh, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy petty part,— With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart ! Tennyson. FORTITUDE. Fortitude is not the appetite Of formidable things, nor inconsult Rashness ; but virtue fighting for a truth ; Deriv'd from knowledge of distinguishing Good or bad causes. Nahb's Covent Garden. Brave spirits are a balsam to themselves : There is a nobleness of mind, that heals Wounds beyond salves. Cart-wright's Lady Errant. 'Tis easiest dealing with the firmest mind — More just when it resists, and, when it yields, more kind. Crabbe. 'T is he indeed — disarm'd but undeprest, His sole regret the life he still possest ; lis wounds too slight, though taken with that will, •Vhich would have kiss'd the hand that then could kill. Oh ! were there none, of all the many given, T» send his soul — he scarcely ask'd to heaven ? Byron's Corsair. He deeply, darkly felt ; but evil pride That led to perpetrate — now serves to hide. Still in his stern and self-collected mien A conqueror's more than captive's air is seen, Though faint with wasting toil and stiffening wound, But few that saw — so calmly gazed around; Though the far shouting of the distant crowd, Their tremours o'er, rose insolently loud, The better warriors who beheld him near, Insulted not the foe who taught them fear, And the grim guards that to his durance led, In silence eyed him with a secret dread. Byron's Corsair My sole resources in the path I trod, Were these — my bark — my sword — my love— my God. The last I left in youth — he leaves me now — And man but works his will to lay me low. I have no thought to mock his throne with prayei Wrung from the coward crouching of despair ; It is enough — I breathe — and I can bear. Byron. Yet well thy soul hath brook'd the turning tide With that untaught innate philosophy, Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, Is gall and wormwood to an enemy. When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, To watch and mock thee shrvnking, thou hast smiled With a sedate and all-enduring eye ; When fortune fled her spoil' d and favourite child, He stood unbow'd beneath the ills upon him piled. Byron's Childe Harold. Existence may be borne, and the deep root Of life and sufferance make its firm abode In base and desolated bosoms : mute The camel labours with the heaviest load, And the wolf dies in silence : not bestow'd In vain should such example be ; if they, Things of ignoble or of savage mood, Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay May temper it to bear — it is but for a day. Byron's Childe Harold. — Gird your hearts with silent fortitude, Suffering yet hoping all things. Mrs. Hemaaa FORTUNE. Of Nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose : but fortune v O , She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee. Shaks. King John. 16* 180 FORTUNE. When fortune -neins to men most good, She looks upon them with a thrcat'ning eye. Shaks. King John. Will fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest letters ? She cither gives a stomach, and no food — Such are the poor in health ; or else a feast, And takes away the stomach — such the rich, That have abundance, and enjoy it not. Shaks. Henry IV. Part II. Fortune is merry, And in this mood will give us any thing. Shaks. Julius C&sar. This accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me To any other trust. Shaks. Twelfth Night. Since j t ou will buckle fortune on my back, To bear her burden whe'r I will or no, I must have patience to endure the load. Shaks. Richard III. For herein fortune shows herself more kind Than is her custom : it is still her use, To let the wretch'd man outlive his wealth, To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow, An age of poverty. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. Wisdom and fortune combating together : If that the former dare but what it can, No chance may shake it Shaks. Antony and Cleopatra. How fortune plies her sports, when she begins To practise them ! pursues, continues, adds, Confounds, with varying her empassion'd moods ! Jonson's Sejanus. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune, Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. Shakspeare. All human business fortune doth command Without all order ; and with her blind hand, She, blind, bestows blind gifts, that still have nurst, They see not who, nor how, but still the worst. Ben Jonson. That fortune still must be with ill maintain'd, Which at the first with any ill is gain'd. Lord Brook's Alaham. * )n fortune ! thou art not worth my least exclaim, And plague enough thou hast in t'ny own name : Do thy great worst, my frienas and I have arms, Though not against th v strokes, against thy harms. Dr. Donne. Fortune, the great commandress of the world, Hath divers ways to enrich her followers : To some she honour gives without deserving; To other some, deserving, without honour ; Some wit, some wealth, and some wit withou* wealth ; Some wealth without wit; some nor wit nor wealth But good smock faces, or some qualities By nature, without judgment; with the which They live in sensual acceptation, And make show only without touch of substance Chapman's All Fools Fortune 's an under pow'r, that is herself Commanded by desert. 'Tis a mere vainness Of our credulity to give her more Than her due attribute ; which is but servants To an heroic spirit. Nabb's Hannibal and Scipio Wisdom, whose strong-built plots, Leave nought to hazard, mocks thy futile pow'r ; Industrious labour drags thee by the locks, Bound to his toiling car, and not attending Till thou dispense, reaches his own reward : Only the lazy sluggard yawning lies Before the threshold, gaping for thy dole, And licks the easy hand that feeds his sloth ; The shallow, rash, and unadvised man Makes thee his state, disburthens ail the follies Of his misguided actions on thy shoulders. Carew's Ccdum Britannicum Let not one look of fortune cast you down ; She were not fortune, if she still did frown : Such as do braveliest bear her scorns awhile, Are those on whom at last she most will smile. Earl of Orrey's Henry V Fortune came smiling to my youth, and woo'd it, And purpled greatness met my ripen'd years. Dryden's All for Love. Be juster, heav'ns ! Such virtue punish'd thus, Will make us think chance rules all above, And shuffles with a random hand the lots Which man is fore'd to draw. Dryden's All for Love What trivial influences hold dominion O'er wise men's counsels, and the fate of empire The greatest schemes that human wit can forge, Or bold ambition dares to put in practice, Depend upon our husbanding a moment, And the light lasting of a woman's will ; As if the Lord of nature should delight To hang this pond'rous globe upon a hair, And bid it dance before a breath of wind. Roice's Lady Jane Grey FORTUNE-TELLERS. 187 Look into those they call unfortunate, And closer view'd you'll find they are unwise : Some flaw in their own conduct lies beneath, And 't is the trick of fools to save their credit, Which brought another language into use. Young's Revenge. Oft, what seems A trifle, a mere nothing, by itself, In some nice situation, turns the scale Of fate, and rules the most important actions. Thomson's Tancred and Sigismunda. Fortune made up of toys and impudence, That common judge that has not common sense, But fond of business, insolently dares Pretend to rule, yet spoils the world's affairs ; She 's fluttering up and down, her favour throws On the next met, nor minding what she does, Nor why, nor whom she helps, nor merit knows; Sometimes she smiles, then like a fury raves, And seldom truly loves but fools or knaves. Let her love whom she will, I scorn to woo her, While she stays with me, I '11 be civil to her ; But if she offers once to move her wings, I '11 fling her back all her vain gew-gaw things. Buckingham. On high, where no hoarse winds nor clouds resort, The hood-wink'd goddess keeps her partial court, Upon a wheel of amethyst she sits, Gives and resumes, and smiles and frowns by fits : In this still labyrinth around her lie Spells, philters, globes, and schemes of palmistry ; A sigil in this hand the gipsy bears, In t' other a prophetic sieve, and shears. Garth's Dispensary^ Heav'n has to all allotted, soon or late, Some lucky revolution of their fate : Whose motions if we watch and guide with skill, (For human good depends on human will) Our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent, And from the first impression takes its bent ; But if unseiz'd, she glides away like wind, And leaves repenting folly far behind ; Now, now she meets you with a glorious prize, And spreads her locks before her as she flies. Dryden. All human projects are so faintly fram'd, So feebly plann'd, so liable to change, So rrix'd with error in their very form, That mutable and mortal are the same. Hannah More's Daniel. Alas ! the joys that fortune brings Are trifling, and decay; And those who prize the paltry things, More trifling still than they. Goldsmith. Who thinks that fortune cannot change her nimQ Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind. And who stands safest? tell me, is it he That spreads and swells in puff'd prosperity 1 Or blest with little, whose preventing care In peace provides fit arms against a war. Popt* In losing fortune, many a lucky elf Has found himself, — As all our moral bitters are design'd To brace the mind, And renovate its healthy tone, the wise Their sorest trials hail as blessings in disguise. Horace Smith, To catch dame fortune's golden smile, Assiduous wait upon her ; And gather gear by every wile That 's justified by honour. Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train attendant ; But for the glorious privilege Of being independent. Burns. Fortunes are made, if I the facts may state, — Though poor myself, I know the fortunate : First, there 's a knowledge of the way from whence Good fortune comes — and this is sterling sense : Then perseverance, never to decline The chase of riches till the prey is thine ; And firmness never to be drawn away By any passion from that noble prey — By love, ambition, study, travel, fame, Or the vain hope that lives upon a name. Crabbe. O ! ye, who bask in Fortune's sun, And Hope's bright garlands wear, — Your blessings from the God of love Let his poor children share ! Mrs. Hah FORTUNE-TELLERS. A hungry, lean-fa c'd villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller ; A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, A living dead man ; this pernicious slave, Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer ; And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no face, as 't were, outfacing me, Cries out, I was possess'd. Shaks. Comedy of Erro* Pray thee, maiden, hear him not ! Take thou warning by my lot, Read my scroll, an' 1 mark thou all I can tell thee of thy thralL Miss Lvnaoti. 188 FRANCE -FREEDOM. Quoth Hudibras, the stars determine You are my prisoners, base vermin ! Could they not tell you so, as well As what I came to know foretel? By this what cheats you are we find, That in your own concerns are blind. Butler's Hudibras. Lady, throw back thy raven hair, Lay thy white brow in the moonlight bare, I will look on the stars and look on thee, And read the page of thy destiny. Miss Landon. FRANCE. The French are passing courtly, ripe of wit ; Kind but extreme dissemblers. You shall have A Frenchman ducking lower than your knee, At the instant mocking ev'n your very shoe-ties. Ford. Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease, Pleas'd with thyself, whom all the world can please. Goldsmith's Traveller. Studious to please, and ready to submit; The supple Gaul was born a parasite. Dr. Johnson's London. The sun rises bright in France, And fair sets he. Allan Cunningham. But let Freedom rejoice, With her heart in her voice; But, her hand on her sword, Doubly shall she be adored ; France hath twice too well been taught The "moral lesson" dearly bought — Her safety sits not on a throne, With Capet or Napoleon ! But in equal rights and laws, Hearts and hands in one great cause — Freedom such as God hath given Unto all beneath his Heaven. Byron. Farewell to thee, France ! when thy diadem crown'd me i made thee the gem and the wonder of earth, — But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee, Decay' d in thy glory and sunk in thy worth. Farewell to thee, France ! but when Liberty rallies Uuce more in thy regions, remember me then — The violet still grows in the depths of thy valleys, Though wither'd, thy tears will unfold it again. Byron. Why this is France ? Nature is here like a living romance, Look at its vines, and streams, and skies, Its glowing feet and dreamy eyes ! Bailey's FestuB. I heard, as in a glorious dream, A clarion thrill the startled air, And saw an answering people stream Through every noisy thoroughfare. These were the old, whose hairs were few, Or white with memory of the days Of Egypt, Moscow, Waterloo, — And now they sang the " Marseillaise !" The Bourbon's throne was trampled down, And France no longer knelt ; but now, Struck with a patriot's hand the crown From off the Orleans' dotard brow ; — Releas'd from slavery and tears She rose and sang fair Freedom's praise, Till far along the future years I heard the swelling " Marseillaise !" T. Buchanan Read, A great voice wakes a foreign land, And a mighty murmur sweeps the sea, While nations dumb with wonder stand, To note what it may be ; — The word rolls on like a hurricane's breath — " Down with the tyrant — come life or death — France, France is free'." T. Buchanan Reaa. FREEDOM. Liberty ! Freedom ! tyranny is dead ! — Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. Shaks. Julius Ccesar. And what Made thee, all-honour'd, honest Roman Brutus, With the arm'd rest, courtiers of beauteous Free- dom, To drench the Capitol ; but that they would Have one man but a man ? Shaks. Antony and Cleopatra. Oh give, great God, to Freedom's waves to ride Sublime o'er Conquest, Avarice, and Pride, To sweep where Pleasure decks her guilty bowers, And dark Oppression builds her thick-ribb'd towers. And grant that every sceptred child- of clay, Who cries presumptuous, " Here their tides shall stay," Swept in their anger from th' affrighted s.iore, With all his creatures sink — to rise no more ! Wordsworth — Desci ytive Skrt< &rs FREE-WILL. 1S9 Slaves who once conceive the glowing thought CM freedom, in that hope itself possess All that the contest calls for ; — spirit, strength, The scorn of danger, and united hearts, The surest presage of the good they seek. Wordsworth. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage ; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an heritage ; If I have freedom in my love, And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty. Lovelace — To Althea, from prison. What art thou, Freedom ? Oh ! could slaves Answer from their living graves This demand, tyrants would flee Like a dream's dim imagery ! Thou art Justice — ne'er for gold May thy righteous laws be sold, As laws are in England : thou Shieldest alike high and low. Thou art Peace — never by thee Would blood and treasure wasted be, As tyrants wasted them when all Leagued to quench thy flame in Gaul ! Thou art Love : the rich have kist Thy feet, and like him following Christ, Given their substance to be free, And through the world have follow'd thee. Shelley. Is 't death to fall for Freedom's right ? He 's dead alone who lacks her light ! Campbell. Better to dwell in Freedom's hall, With a cold damp floor and mouldering wall, Than bow the head and bend the knee In the proudest palace of slaverie. Moore. For Freedom's battle oft begun, Bequeath'd from bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won. Byron's Giaour. In the long vista of the years to roll, Let me not see my country's honour fade ; Oh ! let me see our land retain its soul ! Her pride in Freedom, and not Freedom's shade. Keats. Sun of the moral world ! effulgent source Of man's best wisdom and his steadiest force, Soul-searching Freedom ! here assume thy stand, And radiate hence to every distant land. Joel Barlow. Stranger, new flowers in our vales are peen With a dazzling eye, and a lovely green. — They scent the breath of the dewy morn : They feed no worm, and they hide no thorn, But revel and glow in our balmy air ; They are flowers' which Freedom hath planter there. Mrs. Sigourney Oh ! not yet May'st thou unbrace thy corslet, nor lay by Thy sword, nor yet, O Freedom ! close thy lids In slumber ; for thine enemy never sleeps. And thou must watch and combat, till the day Of the new Earth and Heaven. Bryant's Poems. Freedom's soil hath only place For a free and fearless race ! Whiitier's Poems. When Freedom, on her natal day, Within her war-rock'd cradle lay, An iron race around her stood, Baptiz'd her infant brow in blood, And, through the storm that round her swef.t, Their constant ward and watching kept. Whittier's Poems Go ring the bells and fire the guns, And fling the starry banner out ; Shout " Freedom" till your lisping ones Give back their cradle shout. Whittie^s Poems. Oh, joy to the world ! the hour is come, When the nations to freedom awake, When the royalists stand agape and dumb, And monarchs with terror shake ! Over the walls of majesty " Uphahsln" is writ in words of fire, And the eyes of the bondsman, wherever they be. Are lit with wild desire. Soon shall the thrones that blot the world, Like the Orleans, into the dust be hurl'd, And the word roll on like a hurricane's breath, Till the farthest slave hears what it saith — Arise, arise, be free ! T. Buchanan Read. FREE WILL. Ingrate, he had of me All he could have: I made him just and right, Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. Such I created all th' ethereal powers And spirits, both them who stood, and them wnu fail'd ; Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell Milton's Paradise Lo»i. 190 FRIENDSHIP. They therefore as to right bclong'd, So were created, nor can justly accuse Their Maker, or their making, or their fate, As if predestination over-rul'd Their will, dispos'd by absolute decree Or high foreknowledge ; they themselves decreed Their own revolt, not I ; if I foreknew, Foreknowledge had no influence on their faults, Which had no less prov'd certain un foreknown. Milton's Paradise Lost. God made thee perfect, not immutable, And good he made thee, but to persevere *le left it in thy pow'r ; ordain'd thy will By nature free, not over-rul'd by fate Inextricable, or strict necessity. Milton's Paradise Lost. Our voluntary service he requires, Not our necessitated ; such with him Finds no acceptance, nor can find ; for how Can hearts, not free, be try'd whether they serve Willing or no, who will but what they must By destiny, and can no other choose ? Milton's Paradise Lost. Each had his conscience, each his reason, will, And understanding for himself to search, To choose, reject, believe, consider, act ; And God proclaim'd from heaven, and by an oath Confirm'd, that each should answer for himself; And as his own peculiar work should be Done by his proper self, should live or die. Pollock's Course of Time. Free-will is but necessity in play, The clattering of the golden reins that guide The thunder-footed coursers of the sun. Bailey' 8 Festus. He only hath free-will whose will is fate. Bailey. FRIENDSHIP. A golden treasure is the tried friend ; But who may gold from counterfeits defend ? Trust not too soon, nor yet too soon mistrust : With th' one thyself, with th' other thy friend thou hurt'st, Who twines betwixt, and steers the golden mean, IS or rashly loveth, nor mistrusts in vain. Mirror for Magistrates. For all things, friendship excepted, Are subject to fortune : love is but an Eye-worm which only tickleth the head with Hopes and wishes : friendship 's the image of Uternity, in which there is nothing Moveable- nothing mischievous; as much Difference as there is between beauty And virtue, bodies and shadows, colours And life, so great odds is there between love And friendship. Lilly's Endymion. When adversities flow, Then love ebbs : but friendship standeth stiffly In storms. Time draweth wrinkles in a fair Face, but addeth fresh colours to a fast Friend, which neither heat, nor cold, nor mis ry, Nor place, nor destiny, can alter or Diminish. O friendship ! of all things the Most rare, and therefore most rare, because mos Excellent ; whose comforts in misery Are always sweet, and whose counsels in Prosperity are ever fortunate. Vain love ! that only coming near to friendship In name, would seem to be the same, or better, In nature. Lilly's Endymion. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love : Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood Shaks. Much Ado. I have not from your eyes that gentleness, And show of love, as I was wont to have : You bear too stubborn, and too strange a hand, Over your friend that loves you. Shaks. Julius Ccesai. I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you deny'd me : Was that done like Cas sius? Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so ? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunder-bolts, Dash him to pieces ! Shaks. Julius C&sar. Brutus hath riv'd my heart : A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are, Shaks. Julius Ccetar. Give him all kindness : I had rather have Such men my friends, than enemies. Shaks. Julius Ctsar Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st hta ear A stranger to thy thoughts. ShaJiS. Othello, FRIENDSHIP. 101 r count myself in nothing else so happy, As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends; And, as my fortune ripens with my love, It shall be still thy true love's recompense. Shales. Richard II. Dost thou hear ? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, And could of men distinguish her election, She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing ; A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks. Shaks. Hamlet. So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you : And what so poor a man as Hamlet is May do, to express his love and friending to you, God willing, shall not lack. Shaks. Hamlet. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them by the soul with hooks of steel. Shaks. Hamlet. In companions That do converse and waste the time together, Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, There needs must be a like proportion Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, The best condition'd and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies ; and one in whom The ancient Roman honour more appears, Than any that drawls breath in Italy. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. That we have been familiar, Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather Than pity note how much. — Therefore, be gone. Shaks. Coriolanus. By heav'n I cannot flatter: I defy The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself; Nay, task me to my word ; approve me, lord. Shaks. Henry IV. Parti. As we do turn our backs From our companion, thrown into his grave : So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away : leave their false vows with him, Like empty purses pick'd ; and his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, Walks, like contempt alone. Shaks. Timon of Athens. Is all the counsel that we two have shai'd, The sister's vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us — O, and is all forgot? All school-day's friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet a union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart. Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream. And will you rend our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? It is not friendly, 't is not maidenly : Our sex as well as I may chide you for it ; Though I alone do feel the injury. Shaks. Midsummer NighVs Dream. We still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together ; And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled, and inseparable. Shaks. As you like it I will take your friendship up at use, And fear not that your profit shall be small ; Your interest shall exceed your principal. Tourneur's Atheist's Tragedy True happiness Consists not in the multitude of friends, But in the worth and choice : nor would I have Virtue a popular regard pursue : Let them be good that love me, though but few. Jonson's Cynthia's Revels, Turn him, and see his threads : look, if he be Friend to himself, that would be friend to thee : For that is first requir'd, a man be his own ; But he that 's too much that, is friend to none. Jonson's Underwovd. Friendship is the cement of two minds, As of one man the soul and body is ; Of which one cannot sever but the other Suffers a needful separation. Chapnan's Revenge Friendship 's an abstract of love's noble flame, 'T is love refin'd, and purg'd from all its dross The next to angel's love, if not the same, As strong in passion is, though not so gross • It antedates a glad eternity, And is a heaven in epitome. Catherine Phitipt 193 FRIENDSHIP. Lay this into your breast : Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best Webster's Duchess of Malfy. O summer friendship, Whose flattering leaves, that shadow'd us in Our prosperity, with the least gust drop off In th' autumn of adversity ! Massinger's Maid of Honour. That friendship's rais'd on sand, Which every sudden gust of discontent, Or flowing of our passions, can change As if it ne'er had been. Massinger. Essential honour must be in a friend, Not such as every breath fans to and fro ; But born within, is its own judge and end, And dares not sin, though sure that none should know. Where friendship's spoke, honesty's understood; For none can be a friend that is not good. Catherine Philips. A friend is gold, if true, he '11 never leave thee : Vet both, without a touchstone, may deceive thee. Randolph. A season'd friend ! not tainted with design ; Who made those words grow useless — mine and thine. Cartwright. I do here entertain a friendship with thee, Shall drown the memory of all patterns past ; We will oblige by turns and that so thick And fast, that curious studiers of it Shall not once dare to cast it up, or say, By way of guess, whether thou or I Remain debtors when we come to die. Suckling's Aglaura. Friendship's an empty name, made to deceive Those whose good nature tempts them to believe ; There 's no such thing on earth, the best that we Can hope for here is faint neutrality. Take's Adventures. fie ought not to pretend to friendship's name, Who reckons not himself and friend the same. Take's Adventures. Friendship above all ties does bind the heart ; And faith in friendship is the noblest part. Earl of Orrery's Henry V. |>ust is the strongest bond upon the soul; "I 'hat sa asid. tie has virtue oft begot ; Jl binds where 1 is, and makes it where 'twas not. Earl of Orrery's Henry V. Acquaintance I would have, but when 't depends Not on tne number, but tue choice of friends. Cowley. In their nonage, a sympathy Unusual join'd their loves : They pair'd like turtles ; still together drank, Together eat, nor quarrell'd for the choice. Like turning streams both from one fountain fell, And as they ran still mingled smiles and tears. Lee's Ccesar Borgia, I had a friend that lov'd me : I was his soul : he liv'd not but in me : We were so close within each other's breast, The rivets were not found that join'd us first. That does not reach us yet : we were so mix'd, As meeting streams — both to ourselves we»-e lost. We were one mass, we could not give or take, But from the same : for he was I ; I, he : Return my better half, and give me all myself, For thou art all ! If I have any joy when thou art absent, I grudge it to myself: methinks I rob Thee of thy part. Dryderu Who knows the joys of friendship ? The trust, security, and mutual tenderness, The double joys, where each is glad for both ? Friendship our only wealth, our last retreat and strength, Secure against ill-fortune and the world. Rowe. Thou art the man in whom my soul delights, In whom, next heaven, I trust. Route's Lady Jane Grey Friendship's the privilege Of private men ; for wretched greatness knows No blessing so substantial. Tate's Loyal General. Friendship, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame. The child, whom many fathers share, Hath seldom known a father's care. 'T is thus in friendships ; who depend On many, rarely find a friend. Gay. Heaven gives us friends to bless the present scene ; Resumes them, to prepare us for the next. Young's Night Thoughts. Celestial happiness ! Whene'er she stoops To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds, And one alone, to make her sweet amends For absent heaven — the bosom of a friend. Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft, Each other's pillow to repose divine. Y His restless eye and sudden start — These tell the dreadful tale That will be told : it needs no words from thee, Thou self-sold slave to guilt and misery. Dana's Buccaneer. God hath yok'd to guilt Her pale tormentor — misery. Bryant. HAIR. Hair ! 't is the robe which curious nature weaves To hang upon the head, and does adorn Our bodies ; in the first hour we are born, God does bestow that garment : when we die, That, like a soft and silken canopy, Is still spread over us : In spite of death, Our hair grows in our grave, and that alone Looks fresh, when all our other beauty 's gone. Decker's Satiromastix. Her hair was roll'd in many a curious fret, Much like a rich and curious coronet ; Upon whose arches twenty Cupids lay, And were or ty'd, or loath to fly away. Brown's Pastorals. Her hair In ringlets rather dark than fair, Does down her ivory bosom roll, And hiding half adorns the whole. Prior Her hair down-gushing in an armful flows, And floods her ivory neck, and glitters as she goe$> Allan Cunningham Then there 's that old Lord Maurice, not a whit More tame for his grey hairs. Keats' s Eze of St. Agnes A silver line, that from the brow to the crown, And in the middle, parts the braided hair, Just serves to show how delicate a soil The golden harvest grows in. Wordsworth. An angel face ! its sunny " wealth of hair," In radiant ripples, bathed the graceful throat And dimpled shoulders. Mrs. Osgood. She 's beautiful ! — Her raven curls Have broken hearts in envious girls ; — And then they sleep in contrast so, Like raven feathers upon snow, And bathe her neck — and shade the bright Dark eye from which they catch the light, As if their graceful loops were made To keep that glorious eye in shade, And holier make its tranquil spell, Like waters in a shaded well. Willis. See those small youngsters whose expansive ears Maternal kindness graz'd with frequent shears ; Each bristling crop a dangling mass becomes, And all the spoon ies turn to Absaloms. O. W. Holmes HAND. Her hand, In whose comparison, all whites are ink Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman ! Shaks. Troilus and Cressida. I take thy hand, this hand, As soft as dove's down, and as white as it ; Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow, That 's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er. Shaks. Winters's Tale. He who beholds her hand forgets her face. Mrs. Brooks's Zophiei I love a hand that meets mine own With grasp that causes some sensatior Mrs. Osgood's Poem* 220 HANGING-HAPPINESS. The instrument of instruments, the hand ; Courtesy's index ; chamberlain to nature ; The body's soldier ; and mouth's caterer ; Psyche's great secretary ; the dumb's eloquence ; The blind man's candle, and his forehead's buckler ; The mioister of wrath ; and friendship's sign. Lingua. The Hand, — what wondrous Wisdom plann'd This instrument so near divine ! How impotent, without the Hand, Proud Reason's light would shine ! Invention might her power apply, And Genius see the forms of heaven, — And firm Resolve his strength might try ; — But vain the Will, the Soul, the Eye, Unquarriea would the marble lie, The oak and cedar flout the sky Had not the Hand been given ! Mrs. Hale — The Hand and its Work. The Frost's ice-breath the seas may block, An Earthquake's arm the mountains shake, The lightning's eye dissolve the rock, The heaving breast of Waters break A pathway through the solid land ; No form that Nature's force can take Such changes in the World would make As doth the Human Hand. Mrs. Hale— The Hand and its Work. All wants that from our nature rise, Life's common cares the Hand supplies ; It tends and clothes our myriad race, And forms for each a resting-place ; And ceaseless ministry doth keep From cradle dream to coffin sleep. Mrs. Hale — The Hand and its Work. 4rt's glorious things that give the Mind Dominion over Time and Space, — The silken Car, that rides the wind ; The Steel, that trackless seas can trace ; The Engine, breathing fire and smoke That Neptune's potent sway hath broke, And sails its ships 'gainst wind and tide ; Tne Telescope, that sweeps the sky, And brings the pilgrim planet nigh, Familiar as the Sun's pale Bride ; — Tne microscopic Lens, which finds On every leaf a peopled land, — All these that aid the mightiest Minds, Were wrought and fashion'd by the Hand ! Mis. Hale— The Hand and its Work. I hough Mind Aladdin's lamp might be, Hi? Genie was the Hand. Mrs. Hale— The Hand and its Work. HANGING. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from wreck Which cannot perish, having thee on board, Being destined to a drier death on shore. Shaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona. While those who turn and wind their oaths Have swell'd and sunk, like other froths ; Prevail'd awhile, but 't was not long Before from world to world they swung, As they had turn'd from side to side ; And as the changelings liv'd, they dy'd. Butler's Hudibras. When the times begin to alter, None rise so high as from the halter. Butler's Hudibras. For matrimony and hanging here Both go by destiny so clear, That you as sure may pick and choose, As Cross, I win ; and Pile, you lose. Butler's Hudibras. HAPPINESS. O, how bitter a thing it is to look Into happiness through another man's eyes ! Shaks. As you like it. If it were now to die, 'T were now to be most happy ; for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute, That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate. Shaks. Othello. What ! we have many goodly days to see : The liquid drops of tears that you have shed, Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl ; Advantaging their loan, with interest Oftentimes double gain of happiness. Shaks. Richard III. All the good we have rests in the mind ; By whose proportions only we redeem Our thoughts from out confusion, and do find The measure of ourselves, and of our powers : And that all happiness remains confin'd Within the kingdom of this breast of ours. Daniel to the Countess of Bedford. What thing so good which not some harm may bring? E'en to be happy is a dangerous thing. Earl of Ster line's Darius Happy are those, That knowing in their births they are subject to Uncertain change, are still prepar'd and arm'd For either fortune : a rare principle, And with much labour learn'd ha wisdom's school Massinger's Bond.nan HAPPINESS. 221 That happiness does the longest thrive, Where joys and griefs have turns alternative. Herrick. 'T is with our souls As with our eyes, that after a long darkness Are dazzled at th' approach of sudden light ; When i' th' midst of fears we are surpris'd With unexpected happiness ; the first Degrees of joy are mere astonishment Denham's Sophy. Over all men hangs a doubtful fate : One gains by what another is bereft ; The frugal deities have only left A common bank of happiness below, Maintain'd, like nature, by an ebb and flow. Sir Robert Howard's Indian Queen. Happiness is a stranger to mankind, And, like to a forc'd motion, it is ever Strongest at the beginning ; then languishing With time, grows weary of our company. Tube's Adventures of Five Hours. I see there is no man but may make his paradise, And it is nothing but his love and dotage Upon the world's foul joys, that keeps him out on't ; For he that lives retir'd in mind and spirit, Is still in paradise. Beaumont and Fletcher's Nice Valour. On earth he first beheld Our two first parents, yet the only two Of mankind in the happy garden plac'd, Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love, Uninterrupted joy — unrivall'd love. Milton's Paradise Lost. They live too long, who happiness outlive : For life and death are things indifferent ; Each to be chose,; as either brings content. Dryden's Indian Emperor. If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are fools who roam : The world has nothing to bestow ; From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut — our home. Cotton's Fireside. Bliss ! sublunary bliss ! — proud words and vain ! Implicit treason to divine decree ! A bold invasion of the rights of heaven ! I clasp'd the phantoms, and I found them air. O had I weigh'd it ere my fond embrace ! What darts of agony had miss'd my heart ! Young's Night Thoughts. How sad a sight is human happiness, To those whose thoughts can pierce beyond an hour ! Young's Night Thoughts. Thou happy wretch ; by blindness art thou blest By dotage dandled to perpetual smiles. Young's Night ThouchH Know, smiler ! at thy peril art thou pleas'd ; Thy pleasure is the promise of thy pain. Misfortune, like a creditor severe, But rises in demand for her delay ; She makes a scourge of past posterity, To sting thee more, and double thy distress. Young's Night Thoughts. The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord — is cable — to man's tender tie On earthly bliss ; it breaks at every breeze. Young's Night Thoughts Nature, in zeal for human amity, Denies, or damps, an undivided joy. Joy is an import; joy is an exchange , Joy flies monopolists ; it calls for two , Rich fruit ! Heav'n planted ! never pluck'd by one. Young's Night Thoughts O how portentous is prosperity ! How comet-like ; it threatens, while it shines ! Young's Night Thoughts. What makes man wretched ? Happiness deny'd * Lorenzo ! no, 't is happiness disdain'd. She comes too meanly drest to win our smile , And calls herself content, a homely name ! Our flame is transport, and content our scorn. Ambition turns, and shuts the door against her, And weds a toil, a tempest, in her stead. Young's Night Thoughts. Beware what earth calls happiness ; beware All joys, but joys that never can expire ; Who builds on less than an immortal base, Fond as he seems, condemns his joy to death. Young's Night Thougfttt Know thou this truth, (enough for man to know]; " Virtue alone is happiness below." The only point where human bliss stands still, And tastes the good without the fall to ill ; Where only merit constant pay receives, Is blest in what it takes, and what it gives , The joy unequall'd, if its end it gain, And if it lose, attended with no pain : Without satiety, tho' e'er so blest, And but more relish'd as the more distress'd ; The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears, Less pleasing far than virtue's very tears : Good from each object, from each place acquir a, For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd ; Never elated, while one man's oppress'd ; Never dejected, while another's blest , And where no wants, no wishes can remain, Since but to wish more virtue, is to gain. Pope's Essay on Man 19* 222 HAPPINESS. Oh, happ nebs ! our being's end and aim, Good, pleasure, ease, content — whate'er thy name : That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die, Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, O'crlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise : Plant of celestial seed ! if dropp'd below, Say in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow ? Pope's Essay on Man. Ask of the lcarn'd the way? The learn'd are blind ; This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind ; Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, Those call it pleasure, and contentment these : Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain ; Some, swell' d to gods, confess ev'n virtue vain ; Or, indolent to each extreme they fall, To trust in ev'ry thing, or doubt of all. Pope's Essay on Man. Know, all the good that individuals find, Or God and nature meant to mere mankind, Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words, health, peace, and competence. But health consists with temperance alone ; And peace, oh virtue ! peace is all thy own. The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain ; But these less taste them, as they worse obtain. Pope's Essay on Man. Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere, 'T is no where to be found, or every where. Pope's Essay on Man. Order is heav'n's first law ; and this confest, Some are and must be greater than the rest, More rich, more wise, but who infers from hence That such are happier, shocks all common sense. Heaven to mankind impartial we confess, If all are equal in their happiness : But mutual wants this happiness increase ; All nature's difference keeps all nature's peace. Condition, circumstance, is not the thing ; Bliss is the same in subject or in king, In who obtain defence, or who defend, In him who is, or him who finds a friend : Heaven breathes through every member of the whole, /)ne common blessing, as one common soul. Pope's Essay on Man. True happiness (if understood) Consists aione in doing good. Somerville. Oft when blind mortals think themselves secure, l& height of bliss, they touch the brink of ruin. Thomson's Agamemnon. Ev'n not all these, in one rich lot combin'd, Can make the happy man, without the mind, Where judgment sits clear-sighted, and surveys The chain of reason with unerring gaze ; Where fancy lives, and to the brightening eyes, His fairer scenes, and bolder figures rise ; Where social love exerts her soft command, And plays the passions with a tender hand, Whence every virtue flows, in rival strife, And all the moral harmony of life. Thomson. Oh, then the longest summer's day Seem'd too, too much in haste : still the full heart Had not imparted half: 't was happiness Too exquisite to last. Of joys departed, Not to return, how painful the remembrance Blair's Grave, Blessed, thrice blessed days ! but ah ! how short ! Bless'd as the pleasing charms of holy men, But fugitive, like those, and quickly gone. slippery state of things I What sudden turns, What strange vicissitudes, in the first leaf Of man's sad history ! to-day most happy ; And, ere to-morrow's sun has set, most abject ! How scant the space between these vast extremes ! Blair's Grave Our aim is happiness ; 't is yours, 't is mine, He said, 't is the pursuit of all that live : Yet few attain it, if 't was e'er attain'd. But they the widest wander from the mark, Who through the flowery path of sauntering joy Seek this coy goddess ; that from stage to stage Invites us still, but shifts as we pursue. Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health, Its no' in books, its no' in lear, To make us truly blest : If happiness has not her seat And centre in the breast; We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest. Bums' s Epistle to Davie Think ye, that sic as you and I, Wha drudge and drive thro' wet and dry, Wi' never-ceasing toil ; Think ye, are we less blest than they, Wha scarcely tent us in their way, As hardly worth their while ? Burns's Epistle to Davie. Though duller thoughts succeed, The bliss e'en of a moment, still is bliss. Thou would'st not of her dew-drops spoil the thorn. Because her glory will not last till noon ; Nor still the lightsome gambols of the colt, Whose neck to-morrow's yoke will gall. Fye on't ' If this be wise, 't is cruel. Joanna BaiUie's Beacon HARVEST. 223 It is ever thus with nappiness : It is the gay to-morrow of the mind That never comes. Proctor's Mirandola. This was his brightest hour, too bright For human weal ; — a glaring light, Like sun-beam thro' the rent cloud pouring On the broad lake, when storms are roaring ; Bright centre of a wild and sombre scene ; More keenly bright than summer's settled sheen. Joanna Baillie. An hour like this is worth a thousand pass'd In pomp or ease — 'tis present to the last ! Years glide away untold — 'tis still the same ; As fresh, as fair as on the day it came ! Rogers's Human Life. True happiness is not the growth of earth, The soil is fruitless if you seek it there : 'T is an exotic of celestial birth, And never blooms but in celestial air. Sweet plant of paradise ! its seeds are sown In here and there a breast of heavenly mould, It rises slow, and buds, but ne'er was known To blossom here — the climate is too cold. R. B. Sheridan. Vain schemer ! think not to prolong thy joy ! But cherish while it lasts the heavenly boon ! Expand thy sails ! thy little bark shall fly With the full tide of pleasure ! though it soon May feel the influence of the changeful moon, It yet is thine ! then let not doubts obscure, With cloudy vapours veil thy brilliant noon, Nor let suspicion's tainted breath impure, Poison the favouring gale which speeds thy course secure ! Mrs. Tighe's Psyche. Oh, happy you ! who, blest with present bliss, See not with fatal prescience future tears, Nor the dear moment of enjoyment miss Through gloomy discontent, or sullen fears Foreboding many a storm for coming years ; Change is the lot of all. Ourselves with scorn Perhaps shall view what now so fair appears ; And wonder whence the fancied charm was born Which now with vain despair from our fond grasp is torn. Mrs. Tighe's Psyche. What deem'd they of the future or the past ? The present, like a tyrant, held them fast. Byron's Island. Sweet, as the desert-fountain's wave To lips just cool'd in time to save. Byron's Bride of Abydos. All who joy would win Must shaie it — happiness was born a twin. Byron. There comes For ever something between us and what We deem our* happiness. Byron's Sardanapalu* A month ago I was happy ! no, Not happy, yet encircled by deep jo} 7 , Which though 't was all around, I could not touch But it was ever thus with happiness : It is the gay to-morrow of the mind That never comes. Bryan W. Proctoi There is a gentle element, and man May breathe it with a calm unruffled soul, And drink its living waters, till his heart Is pure, and this is human happiness. Willis. How cheap Is genuine happiness, and yet how dearly Do we all pay for its base counterfeit ! We fancy wants, which to supply, we dare Danger and death, enduring the privation Of all free nature offers in her bounty, To attain that, which, in its full fruition, Brings but satiety. The poorest man May taste of nature in her element, Pure, wholesome, never cloying ; while the richest, From the same stores, does but elaborate A pungent dish of well-concocted poison. J. N. Barker Rapture is not the aim of man ; in flowers The serpent hides his venom, and the sting Of the dread insect lurks in fairest bowers. We were not made to wander on the wing ; But if we would be happy, we must bring Our buoyed hearts to a plain and simple school. Percivai. HARVEST. The harvest treasures all Now gather'd in, beyond the rage of storms, Sure to the swain ; the circling fence shut up ; And instant winter's utmost rage defy'd. While loose to festive joy, the country round Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth, Shook to the wind their cares. Thomson's Seasons. Her every charm abroad, the village toast, Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich, Darts not unmeaning looks. Thomson's Season*. Age too shines out ; and, garrulous, recounts The feats of youth. Thus they rejoice ; nor thinfc That with to-morrow's sun, theft annual tod Begins again the never-ceasing round. Thomson s Season* 224 HATRED Glowing scene ! Nature & Jong holiday! luxuriant — rich, In her proud progeny, she smiling marks Their graces, now mature, and wonder-fraught ! Hail ! season exquisite ! — and hail, ye sons Of rural toil ! — ye blooming daughters ! ye Who, in the lap of hardy labour rear'd, Enjoy the mind unspotted ! Mary Robinson. Now the air Is rich in fragrance ! fragrance exquisite ! Of new-mown hay, of wild thyme dewy wash'd, And gales ambrosial, which with cooling breath Ruffle the lake's grey surface. Mary Robinson. Hail ! harvest-home ! To thee the muse of nature pours the song, By instinct taught to warble ! Instinct pure, Sacred, and grateful, to that pow'r ador'd, Which warms the sensate being, and reveals The soul self-evident, beyond the dreams Of visionary sceptics ! Scene sublime ! Where the rich earth presents her golden treasures ; Where balmy breathings whisper to the heart Delights unspeakable ! where seas and skies, And hills and valleys, colours, odours, dews, Diversify the work of nature's God ! Mary Robinson. Hie feast is such as earth, the general mother, Pours from her fairest bosom, when she smiles In the embrace of autumn. To each other, As some fond parent fondly reconciles Her warring children, she their wrath beguiles With their own sustenance ; they, relenting, weep. Shelley. Around him ply the reaper band, With lightsome heart and eager hand, And mirth and music cheer the toil, — While sheaves that stud the russet soil, And sickles gleaming in the sun, Tell jocund harvest is begun. Pringve. My glowing heart beats high At the sight of burnish'd gold ; But 'tis not that which the miser's eye Delighteth to behold ; A brighter wealth by far Than the deep mine's yellow vein, Is seen around, in the far hills crown'd With sheaves of burnish'd grain. Eliza CooJc. Then glory to the steel That shines in the reaper's hand ; And tnanks to God, who has bless'd the sod, And crowns the harvest land ! Eliza Cook. There 's merry laughter in the field, And harmless jest and frolic rout ■ And the last harvest wain goes by, With its rustling load so pleasantly, To the glad and clamorous harvest shoutr— There are busy gleaners in the field, — The old, whose work is never done, And eager, laughing, childish bands, Rubbing the ears in their little hands, And singing 'neath the harvest sun. Mary Howitt The glorious landscape smiles and melts ; Green wave-like meadows here are spread, There woodland shades are sweetly shed, In deepening gold there glows the wheat, And there the rye-field's vying sheet Street's Poems. HATRED. Why should'st thou hate men ? They never flatter'd thee : what hast thou given ? Shaks. Timon of Athens. Hate all, curse all : show charity to none ; Bat let the famish'd flesh slide from tne bone, Ere thou relieve the beggar : give to dogs What thou deny'st to men ; let prisons swallow them, Debts wither them to nothing : be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods. Shaks. Timon of Athens. Be abhorr'd All feasts, societies, and throngs of men ! His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains: Destruction fang mankind ! Shaks. Timon of Athens. I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind, For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something. Shaks. Timon of Athens. Nothing I '11 bear from thee, But nakedness, thou detestable town ! Timon will to the woods ; where he shall find The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. Shaks. Timon of Athens Nor sleep, nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick ; nor fane, nor capitol, The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom against My hate to Marcius : where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in 's heart Shaks. Coriolanus HATRED. £25 By all the operations of the orbs, From whom we do exist, and cease to be ; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee, from this, for ever. Shaks. King Lear. Were half to half the world by th' ears, and he l r pon my party, I'd revolt to mak^ /foly my wars with him : he is a lion That I am proud to hunt. Shaks. Coriolanus. Had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. Shaks. Macbeth. But gentle heaven, Cut short all intermission ; front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too ! Shales. Macbeth. Had not God, for strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him. Shaks. Richard II. I do love thee so, That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, If heaven will take the present at our hands. Shaks. Richard III. Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray, That I may live to say — the dog is dead. Shales. Richard III. What ! were you snarling all, before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat, And turn you all your hatred now on me ? Shaks. Richard III. Sit, cousin Percy ; sit, good cousin Hotspur ; For by that name, as oft as Lancaster Doth speak of you, his cheeks look pale ; and with A rising sigh, he wisheth you .in heaven. Shaks Henry IV. Part I. Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all, That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, To cross me from the gorier, 1'ime I look for ! Shaks. Henry VI. Part III. Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother : And this word — love, which grey-beards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me , I am myself alone. Shaks. Henry VI. Part III. Alas, poor York ! r at that I hate thee deadly, I should lament thy miserable state. I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York , Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dane* Shaks. Henry IV. Part III Had the passions of thy eart burst out, I fear we shoul nave seen decypher'd there, More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils l Than yet can be imagin'd, or suppos'd. Shaks. Henry VI. Part. 1. How like a fawning publican he looks ! I hate him, for he is a Christian : But more, for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. I'll have my bond ; speak not against my bond : I have sworn an oath, that I will have my bond : Thou call'dst me dog, before thou hadst a cause ; But since I am a dog, beware my fangs. Shaks. Merchant of Venice. You '11 ask me, why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive Three thousand ducats : I '11 not answer that : But, say, it is my humour : Is it answer'd ? Shaks. Merchant of Venice. I '11 not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool, To shake the head, relent* and sigh, and yield To Christian intercessors. Shales. Merchant of Venice. And therefore — since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days — I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Shaks. Richard III. Thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, A chafed lion by the mortal paw, A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. Shaks. King John. It is the wit, the policy of sin, To hate those men we have abused. Sir W. Davenanfs Just Italian, I see thou art implacable, more deaf To prayers than winds and seas ; yet winds and seas Are reconcil'd at length, and sea to shore : Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages, Eternal tempest never to be calm. Milton's Samson Agoniste$ I know thee not, nor ever saw till now Sight more detestable than him and thee. Milton's Paradise Lost 220 HATRED. To thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, sun, to tell thee how I hate thy hcams, That bring to my remembrance from what state 1 fell, how glorious once above thy sphere ; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down. Milton's Paradise Lost. Ejected out of church and state, And all things but the people's hate Butler's Hudibras. I had much rather see A crested dragon, or a basilisk ; Both are less poison to my eyes and nature. Dryden's Don Sebastian. No voice of friendly salutation cheer'd him, None wish'd his arms might thrive, or bade God speed him : But through a staring, ghastly-looking crowd, Unhail'd, unblest, with heavy heart he went. Rowe's Lady Jane Grey. Whispers are heard, with taunts reviling loud, And scornful hisses run through all the crowd. Pope's Temple of Fame. I '11 keep my way alone, and burn away — Evil or good I care not, so I spread Tremendous desolation on my road : I '11 be remember'd as huge meteors are ; From the dismay they scatter. Proctor's Mirandola. Disgust conceal'd Is oft-times proof of wisdom, when the fault Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach. Cowper's Task. Oh, that I could but mate him in his might, Oh, that we were on the dark wave together, With but one plank betveen us and destruction, That I might grasp him in these desperate arms, And plunge with him amid the weltering billows, And view him gasp for life. Maturin's Bertram. By heaven and all its host he shall not perish ! Bertram. — By hell and all its host he shall not live ! This is no transient flash of fugitive passion — His death hath been my life for years of misery — Which else I had not liv'd — Upon that thought, and not on food, I fed, Upon that thought, and not on sleep, I rested — I came to do the deed that must be done — Nor thou, nor sheltering angels, could prevent me. Maturin's Bertram. The hand of Douglas is his own ; And never snail in friendship's grasp T *ie hand a such as Marmion clasp. Scott's Marmion. Warp'd by the world in disappointment's school,, In words too wise, in conduct there a fool ; Too firm to yield, and far too proud to stoop, Doom'd by his very virtues for a dupe, He curs'd those virtues as the cause of ill, And not the traitors who betray'd him still ; Nor deem'd that gifts bestow'd on better men, Had left him joy, and means to give again. Feared, shunned, belied, ere youth had lost her force, He hated men too much to feel remorse, And thought the voice of wrath a sacred call, To pay the injuries of some on all. Byron's Corsair. If you come for our thanks, take them, and hence! Tbe dungeon gloom is deep enough without you, And full of reptiles, not less loathsome, though Their sting is honestcr. Byron's Two FoscarL From thy false tears I did distil An essence which hath strength to kill ; From thy own heart I then did wring The black blood in its blackest spring ; From thy own smile I snatch'd the snake, For there it coil'd as in a brake ; From thy own lip I drew the charm Which gave all these their chiefest harm ; In proving every poison known, I found the strongest was thine own. Byron's Manfred. Down to the dust ! and as thou rott'st away, Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay Byron's Sketch from Private Life. Ah ! fondly youthful hearts can press, To seize and share the dear caress ; But love itself could never pant For all that beauty sighs to grant, With half the fervour hate bestows Upon the last embrace of foes. Byron's Giaour Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure ; Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure. Byron I hate it, as I hate an argument, A laureate's ode, or servile peer's " content." Byron. They did not know how hate can burn In hearts once changed from soft to stern ; Nor all the false and fatal zeal The convert of revenge can feel. Byron's Siege of Corinth. There are some things I cannot bear, Some looks which rouse my angry hate, Some hearts whose love I would not share, Till earth and heaven wire desolate. WiUu. HEALTH - HEARING - HEART. 22? HFALTH. Hie common ingredients of health and long life are Gieat temp'rance, open air, Easy labour, little care. Sir P. Sidney. The surest road to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill. Most of those evils we poor mortals know From doctors and imagination flow. Churchill. HEARING. These wickets of the soul are plac'd so high, Because all sounds do highly move aloft ; And that they may not pierce too violently, They are delay'd with turns and twinings oft. For should the voice directly strike the brain, It would astonish and confuse it much ; Therefore these plaits and folds the sound restrain, That it the organ may more gently touch. Sir John Davies. This is the slowest, yet the daintiest sense ; For ev'n the ears of such as have no skill, Perceive a discord, and conceive offence ; And knowing not what's good, yet find the ill. Sir John Davies. These conduit-pipes of knowledge feed the mind, But th' other three attend the body still ; For by their services the soul doth find, What tilings are to the body good or ill. Sir John Davies. HEART. Heaven's Sovereign spares all beings but himself That hideous sight — a naked, human heart! Young's Night Thoughts. The heart is like the sky a part of heaven, But changes, night and day, too, like the sky ; Now o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven, And darkness and destruction, as on high ; But when it hath been scorch'd and pierc'd and riven, Its storms expire in water-drops ; the eye Pours forth, at last, the heart's blood turn'd to tears. Byron. To me she gave her heart — the all vVhich tyranny cannot enthral. Byron's Giaour. Father of spirits, hear ! Look on the inmost heart to thee reveal'd, Look on the fountain of the burning tear. Mrs. Hemans. In thy heart there is a holy spot, As 'mid the waste an isle of fount and palm. For ever green ! — the world's breath enters not, The passion-tempest may not break its calm 'T is thine, all thine. Mrs. Hemans. — I have ease, and I have health, And I have spirits light as air ; And more than wisdom, more than wealth — A merry heart that laughs at care. H. H. Milman. The heart hath its mystery, and who may reveal it, Or who ever read in the depth of their own, How much we never may speak of, yet feel it, But even in feeling it, know it unknown ? Miss London. The heart builds up its hopes, though not address d To meet the sunset glories of the west, But garner'd in some still, sweet-singing nest Miss London, Oh, no ! my heart can never be Again in lightest hopes the same ; The love that lingers there for thee Hath more of ashes than of flame. Miss London. — Seek for a bosom all honest and true, Where love once awaken'd will never depart ; Turg, turn to that breast like the dove to its nest, And you '11 find there 's no home like the home in the heart. Eliza Cook — We, in the dark chamber of the heart, Sitting alone, see the world tabled to us ; And the world wonders how recluses know So much, and most of all, how we know them. It is they who paint themselves upon our hearts In their own lights and darknesses, not we. Bailey's Festus. Honour to him, who, self-complete and brave, In scorn can carve his pathway to the grave, And heeding nought of what men think or say, Make his own heart his world upon the way The New Timon. Mine be the heart that can itself defend — Hate to the foe, devotion to the friend ! The New Timor*. The flush of youth soon passes from the face, The spells of fancy from the mind depart ; The form may lose its symmetry, its grace, But time can claim no victory o'er the hean. Mrs Dinnies How idly of the human heart we speak, Giving it gods of clay ! Willis 225 HEAVENS. A young maiden's heart Js a ncn soil, wherein lie many germs Hid by the cunning hand of nature there To put forth blossoms in their fittest season ; And though the love of home first breaks the soil, With its embracing tendrils clasping it, Other affections, strong and warm will grow, While that one fades, as summer's flush of bloom Succeeds the gentle budding of the spring. Mrs. Frances K. Butler. My heart is like the sleeping lake, Which takes the hue of cloud and sky, And only feels its surface break When birds of passage wander by, Who dip their wings, and upward soar, And leave it quiet as before. Willis's Poems. My heart is like a lonely bird, That sadly sings, Brooding upon its nest unheard, With folded wings. Mrs. Welby. I am not old — though time has set His signet on my brow, And some faint furrows there have met, Which care may deepen now ; — For in my heart a fountain flows, And round it pleasant thoughts repose, And sympathies and feelings high Spring like the stars on evening sky Park Benjamin. A pure heart That burns to ashes, yet conceals its pain, For fear it mar its hopeless source of love, Is not to be despised, or lightly held. Boker's Calaynos. The heart, methinks, Were of strange mould, which kept no cherish'd print Of earlier, happier times, when life was fresh, And love and innocence made holiday. Hillhouse. Who made the heart, 't is He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord — its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let 's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What 's done we partly may compute, But know not what 's nsisted. Burns's Poems. HEAVENS. There 's a perpetual spring, perpetual youth, No joint-benumbing cold, nor scorching heat, Famine nor age have any being there. Massinger and Decker's Virgin Martyr What a poor value do men set of heaven ! Heaven, the perfection of all that can Be said, or thought, riches, delight, or harmony. Health, beauty; and all these not subject to The waste of time ; but in their height eternal ; Lost for a pension, or poor spot of earth, Favour of greatness, or an hour's faint pleasure ! As men in scorn of a true flame that 's near, Should run to light their taper at a glow-worm. Shirley's St. Patrick for Ireland. Blest heaven, how are thy ways just like thy orbs, Involv'd within each other ? Yet still we find Thy judgments are like comets, that do blaze, Affright, but die withal ; whilst that thy mercies Are like the stars, who oft-times are obscur'd, But still remain the same behind the clouds. Fountain's Rewards of Virtue There is a heaven : This shred of life cannot be all the web Nature hath wrought to govern divine spirits ; There is a heaven, because there 's misery. The divine power ever blest and good, Made not the world for an ill-natur'd jest, To sport himself in pains of those he made. Crown's Regulus Shall we serve heaven With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves ? Shaks. Measure for Measure Heaven Is as the book of God before thee set, Wherein to read his wond'rous works. Milton's Paradise Lost Nature and nature's laws lay hid in night ; God said, Let Newton be ; and all was light. Pope, Devotion ! daughter of astronomy ! An undevout astronomer is mad. Young's Night Thoughts What involution ! what extent ! what swarms Of worlds, that laugh at earth ! immensely great. Immensely distant from each other's spheres ; What, then, the wondrous space through which they roll? At once it quite ingulphs all human thought ; 'T is comprehension's absolute defeat. Young's Night Thoughts. HELL. 2& Tbj* prospect vast, what is it ? — weigh'd aright, 'Tis nature's system of divinity, And every student of the night inspires. 'Tis elder scripture, writ by God's own hand : Scripture authentic ! uncorrupt by man. Young's Night Thoughts. One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine ; ind light us deep into the deity ; How boundless in magnificence and might ! O what a confluence of ethereal fires, From urns unnumber'd, down the steep of heaven, Streams to a point, and centres in my sight ! Nor tarries there ; I feel it at my heart : My heart, at once, it humbles, and exalts ; Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies. Young's NiglU Thoughts. Thrice happy world, where gilded toys No more disturb our thoughts, no more pollute our joys ! There light or shade succeed no more by turns, There reigns th' eternal sun with an unclouded ray, There all is calm as night, yet all immortal day, And truth for ever shines, and love for ever burns. Watts. But the day is spent ; And rtars are kindling in the firmament, To us how silent — though like ours, perchance, Busy and full of life and circumstance. Rogers's Human Life. Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven; If in your bright leaves we would read the- fate Of men and empires — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have nam'd them- selves a star. Byron's Childe Harold. Heaven darkly works ; — yet, where the seed hath been, There shall the fruitage, glowing, yet be seen. Mrs. Hemans. The blue, deep, glorious heavens ! — I lift mine eye, And bless thee, O my God ! that I have met And own'd thine image in the majesty Of their calm temple still ! that never yet There hath thy face been shrouded from my sight By noontide blaze, or sweeping storm of night ! I bless thee, O my God ! Mrs. Hemans. Heaven asks no surplice round the heart that feels, And all is holy where devotion kneels. 0. W. Holmes. Oh, thou beautiful And unimaginable ether ! and Ye multiplying masses of increas'd And still increasing lights ! what are ye ? what Is this blue wilderness of interminable air, Air, where ye roll along, as I have seen The leaves along the limpid streams of Eden 7 Is your course measur'd for ye ? or do ye Sweep on in your unbounded revelry Through an aerial universe of endless Expansion, at w T hich my soul aches to think, Intoxicated with eternity ? Oh God ! oh Gods ! or whatsoe'er ye are ! How beautiful ye are ! how beautiful Your works, or accident, or whatsoe'er They may be ! let me die, as atoms die, (If that they die) or know ye in your might And knowledge ! My thoughts are not in this hour Unworthy what I see, though my dust is ; Spirit ! let me expire, or see them nearer ! Byron's Cain, I cannot be content with less than Heaven : O Heaven, I love thee ever ! sole and whole, Living, and comprehensive of all life ; Thee, agy world, thee, universal Heaven, And heavenly universe ! Bailey's Festus. Oh ! why do heavenly visions from the mind Pass, like the rainbow mists that wreathe around, And tinge with beauty the unsightly rock ? Mrs. Hale's Poems, Heaven would be hell if lov'd ones were not there, And any spot a heaven, if we could save From every stain of earth, and thither bear The hearts that are to us our hope and care, The soil whereon our purest pleasures grow Around the quiet hearth we often share, From the quick change of thought, the tender flow Of fondness wak'd by smiles, the world we love below. PercivdL HELL. Divines and dying men may talk of hell, But in my heart her several torments dwell. Shahs. Yorkshire Tragedy Yet from these flames No night, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, : Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope comes j That comes to all, but torture without end. Milton's Paradise Lost 20 230 HERMIT -HEROES. There is a place in u black and hollow vault, Where day is ncvei seen ; there shines no sun, But flaming- horror of consuming fires ; A lightless sulphur choak'd with smoky fogs Of an infected daikness; in this place Dwell many thousand thousand sundry sorts Of never-dying deaths ; there damned 60uls Roar without pity ; there are gluttons fed With toads and adders; there is burning oil Pour'd down the drunkard's throat ; the usurer Is fore'd to sup whole draughts of molten gold ; There is the murderer for ever stabb'd, Yet can he never die ; there lies the wanton On racks of burning steel, while in his soul He feels the torment of his raging lust. There stand those wretched things, Who have dream'd out whole years in lawless sheets, And secret incests, cursing one another. John Ford. Hell at last Yawning receiv'd them whole, and on them clos'd ; Hell, their fit habitation, fraught with fire Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain. Milton's Paradise Lost. Fast we found, fast shut, The dismal gates, barricadoed strong ; But, long ere our approaching, heard within Noise, other than the sound of dance or song ; Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. Milton's Paradise Lost. Hail, horrors ! hail, Infernal world ! and thou profoundest hell, Receive thy new possessor ; one who brings A mind not to be chang'd by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. Milton's Paradise Lost. Here we may reign secure ; and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell : Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven. Milton's Paradise Lost. Lucifer. — Behold my world ! Man's science counts it not Upon the brightest sky. He never knows How near it comes to him ; but swath'd in clouds, As though in plum'd and palled state, it steals Hearse-like and thief-like round the uni% T erse, For ever rolling and returning not — Robbing all worlds of many an angel-soul — With its light hidden in its breast, which burns With all concentrate and superfluent woe. Ik sure that this is Hell ! Bailey's Fsstus. In utter darkness far Remote, I beings saw forlorn in woe, Burning continually, yet unconsum'd. And there were groans that ended not, and signs That always sigh'd, and tears that ever wept And ever fell, but not in Mercy's sight. And still I heard these wretched beings curse Almighty God, and curse the Lamb, and curse The earth, the resurrection morn, and seek, And ever vainly seek, for utter death. Pollock's Course of Time. The place thou saw'st was hell ; the groans thou heard'st The wailings of the damn'd, of those who would Not be redeem'd. Pollock's Course of Time HERMIT.— (See Solitude.) HEROES. To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory, and for glory done Of triumph, to be styl'd great conquerors, Patrons of mankind, gods, and sons of gods, Destroyers rightlier call'd and plagues of men. Milton's Paradise Lost. Conquerors, who leave behind Nothing but ruin, wheresoe'er they rove, And all the flourishing works of peace destroy, Then swell with pride, and must be titled gods, Great benefactors of mankind, deliverers, Worshipp'd with temple, priest and sacrifice ; One is the son of Jove, of Mars the other ; Till conq'ror death discover them scarce men, Rolling in brutish vices, and deform'd, Violent or shameful death their due reward. Milton's Paradise Regained, For great commanders only own What 's prosperous by the soldier done. Butler's Hudibrat. For he was of that noble trade That demi-gods and heroes made. Slaughter and knocking on the head, The trade to which they all were bred ; And is, like others, glorious when 'T is great and large, but base if mean. The former rides in triumph for it, The latter in a two-wheel'd chariot, For daring to profane a thing So sacred with vile bungling. Butler's Hudibra* HEROES. 231 Things of the noblest kind his genius drew, And IookM through nature at a single view ; A loose he gave to his unbounded soul, And taught new lands to rise, new seas to roll ; Call'd into being scenes unknown before, And, passing nature's bounds, was something more. Churchill's Rosciad. Yet reason frowns m war's unequal game, Where wasted nations raise a single name ; And mortgag'd states their grandsire's wreaths regret, From age to age in everlasting debt; Wreaths which at last the dear-bought right convey To rust on medals, or on stones decay. Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. At every step Onr foot half sunk in hillocks green and soft, Rais'd by the mole, the miner of the soil. He, not unlike the great ones of mankind, Disfigures earth, and plotting in the dark, Toils much to earn a monumental pile, That may record the mischief he has done. Cowper's Task. Let laurels, drench'd in pure Parnassian dews, Reward his memory, dear to every muse, Who with a courage of unshaken root, In honour's field advancing his firm foot, Plants it upon the line that justice draws, And will prevail or perish in the cause. Cornier. But let eternal infamy pursue The wretch to nought but his ambition true, Who for the sake of filling with one blast The post-horns of all Europe, lays her waste. Cowper. Each with a gigantic stride, Trampling on all the flourishing works of peace To make his greatness greater, and inscribe His name in blood. Rogers's Italy. And though in peaceful garb arrayed, And weaponless except his blade, His stately mien as well implied A high-born heart and martial pride, As if a baron's crest he wore, And sheathed in armour trod the shore. Scott's Lady of the Lake. On his bold visage middle age Had slightly pressed his signet sage, Yet had not quenched the open truth, And fiery vehemence of youth ; Forward and frolic glee was there, The will to do, the soul to d*ire, The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, Of hasty love, or headlong ire. ScotVs Lady of the Lake. Proud was his tone, but calm ; his eye Had that compelling dignity, His mien that bearing haught and high, Which common spirits fear. Scott's Lord of the Isles I want a hero : an uncommon want, When every year and month sends forth a nev^ one, Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant, The age discovers he is not the true one. Byron. Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke, Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel^ Howe, Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk, And fill'd their sign-posts then, like Wellesley now. Byron. 'T is thus the spirit of a single mind Makes that of multitudes take one direction, As roll the waters to the breathing wind, Or roams the herd beneath the bull's protection, Or as a little dog will lead the blind, Or a bell-wether from the flock's connection, By tinkling sounds, when they go forth to victual. Such is the sway of your great men o'er little. Byron. I know thee for a man of many thoughts, And deeds of good and ill, extreme in both, Fatal and fated in thy sufferings. Byron's Manfred All these he wielded to command assent ; But where he wished to win, so well unbent, That kindness cancelled fear in those who heard And other's gifts showed mean beside his word, When echoed to the heart as from his own, His deep yet tender melody of tone : But such was foreign to his wonted mood, He cared not what he softened, but subdued ; The evil passion of his youth had made Him value less who loved — than what obeyed. Byron's Corsair They crouched to him, for he had skill, To warp and wield the vulgar will. Byron's Siege of Corinth Unlike the heroes of each ancient race, Demons in act, but gods at least in face, In Conrad's form seems little to admire, Though his dark eyebrow shades a glance of fire Robust but not Herculean — to the sight No giant frame sets forth his common height; Yet, in the whole, who paused to look again. Saw more than makes the crowd of vulgar men , They gaze and marvel how — and still confess That thus it is, but why they cannot guess. Byron's Corstm 232 HISTORY. HISTORIAN. STes ! rear thy guardian Hero's form On thy proud soil, Jiou Western World ! A watcher through each sign of storm, O'er Freedom's flag unfurl'd. There, as before a shrine ye bow, Bid thy true sons their children lead ; The language of that noble brow For all things good shall plead. Mrs. Hemans's Poems. Whoever, with an earnest soul, Strives for some end from this low world afar, Still upward travels though he miss the goal, And strays — but towards a star ! Bulwer. Better than Fame, is still the wish for Fame, The constant training for a glorious strife ; The Athlete, nurtur'd for the Olympian game, Gains strength, at least for Life. Bulwer. To the Hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Death's voice sounds like a prophet's word ; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be ! Halleck's Bozzaris. His was Octavian's prosperous star, The rush of Cesar's conquering car At battle's call ; His, Scipio's virtue ; his, the skill, And the indomitable will Of Hannibal. Longfellow's Translations. All may be heroes : — " The man who rules his spirit," saith the Voice Which cannot err, — "is greater than the man Who takes a city." Hence it surely follows, If each might have dominion of himself, And each would govern wisely, and thus show Truth, courage, knowledge, power, benevolence, And all the princely soul in private virtues, — Then each would be a prince, a Hero — greater — He will be man in likeness of his Maker ! Mrs. Hale's Ormond Grosvenor. HISTORY. HISTORIAN. But seeing causes are the chiefest things That should be noted of the story writers ; That men may learn what end all causes brings, 1 hey be unworthy name of chroniclers, That *eave them clean out of their registers ; Or doubtfully report them : for the fruit CK" reading stories, standeth in the suit. Mirror for Magistrates. But story-writers ought for neither glory, Fear, nor favour, truth of things to spare : But still it fares, as always it did fare ; Affections, fear, or doubts that daily brew, Do cause that stories never can be true. Mirror for Magistrate*. There is a history in all men's lives, Fig'ring the nature of the times deceas'd ; The which observ'd, a man may prophesy With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie entreasured. Shahs. Henry IV. Part II. Would God our times had had some sacred wight, Whose words as happy as our swords had been ; To have prepar'd for us trophies aright Of undecaying frames t' have rested in ; Triumphant arks of perdurable might : holy lines ! that such advantage win Upon the scythe of time, in spite of years . How blessed they, who gain what never wears ! Daniel's Civil War. 1 remember in the age of Assaracus And Ninus, and about the wars of Thebes, And the siege of Troy, there were few things committed To my charge, but those that were well worthy The preserving ; but now ev'ry trifle Must be wrapped up in the volume of eternity : A rich pudding wife, or a cobbler cannot die, But I must immortalize his name with An epitaph : a dog cannot tread on A nobleman's shoe, but it must be sprinkled Into the chronicles ; so that I never Could remember my treasury more full, and Never emptier of honourable And true heroical actions. j . This is a great fault in a chronologer To turn parasite ; an absolute historian Should be in fear of none ; neither should he Write any thing more than truth for friendship, Or else for hate ; but keep himself equal And constant in all his discourses. T . „ Lingua. Chronologers, many of them, are so fantastic, As when they bring a captain to the combat. Lifting up his revengeful arm to dispart The head of his enemy, they '11 hold up His arms so long, till they have bestow'd three Or four pages in describing the gold Hilts of his threat'ning falchion : so that. In my fancy the reader may r