POETICAL QUOTATIONS (continued 4)

Of manners gentle, of affections mild; In wit a man, simplicity a child.

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A safe companion and an easy friend Unblamed through life, lamented in thy end. Epitaph on Gay. A. POPE.

Her air, her manners, all who saw admired; Courteous though coy, and gentle though retired: The joy of youth and health her eyes displayed, And ease of heart her every look conveyed. Parish Register, Pt. II. G. CRABBE.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

What would you have? your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness. As You Like It, Act ii. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE.

'Tis not enough your counsel still be true; Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do. Essay on Criticism, Pt. III. A. POPE.

Fit for the mountains and the barb'rous caves, Where manners ne'er were preached. Twelfth Night, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

He was the mildest mannered man That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat. Don Juan, Canto III. LORD BYRON.

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water. King Henry VIII., Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Manners with fortunes, humors turn with climes, Tenets with books, and principles with times. Moral Essays, Epistle I. A. POPE.

Plain living and high thinking are no more. The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence. And pure religion breathing household laws. Written in London, September, 1802. W. WORDSWORTH.

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. Essay on Man, Epistle I. A. POPE.

MATRIMONY.

True Love is but a humble, low-born thing, And hath its food served up in earthen ware; It is a thing to walk with, hand in hand. Through the every-dayness of this work-day world,

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A simple, fireside thing, whose quiet smile Can warm earth's poorest hovel to a home. Love. J.R. LOWELL.

He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fulness of perfection lies in him; King John, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him she obeys him; Though she draws him, yet she follows, Useless each without the other! Hiawatha, Pt. X. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Man is but half without woman; and As do idolaters their heavenly gods, We deify the things that we adore. Festus. P.J. BAILEY.

Let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart, For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, Than women's are.

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Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent. Twelfth Night, Act ii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband. Taming of the Shrew, Act v. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

And truant husband should return, and say. "My dear, I was the first who came away." Don Juan, Canto I. LORD BYRON.

With thee conversing I forget all time; All seasons and their change, all please alike.

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But neither breath of morn when she ascends With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet. Paradise Lost, Bk. IV. MILTON.

So loving to my mother. That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life; Dear as these eyes, that weep in fondness o'er thee. Venice Preserved, Act v. Sc. 1. T. OTWAY.

Maidens like moths are ever caught by glare. And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair. English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. LORD BYRON.

So, with decorum all things carry'd; Miss frowned, and blushed, and then was—married. The Double Transformation. O. GOLDSMITH.

For talk six times with the same single lady, And you may get the wedding dresses ready. Don Juan, Canto XII. LORD BYRON.

Why don't the men propose, mamma, Why don't the men propose? Why don't the man propose? T.H. BAYLY.

There swims no goose so gray, but soon or late She finds some honest gander for her mate. Chaucer's Wife of Bath: Prologue. A. POPE.

Under this window in stormy weather I marry this man and woman together; Let none but Him who rules the thunder Put this man and woman asunder. Marriage Service from his Chamber Window. J. SWIFT.

This house is to be let for life or years; Her rent is sorrow, and her income tears; Cupid, 't has long stood void; her bills make known. She must be dearly let, or let alone. Emblems, Bk. II. 10 F. QUARLES.

Look ere thou leap, see ere thou go. Of Wiving and Thriving. T. TUSSER.

Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure; Married in haste, we may repent at leisure. The Old Bachelor, Act v. Sc. 1. W. CONGREVE.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. As You Like It, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

And oft the careless find it to their cost, The lover in the husband may be lost. Advice to a Lady. LORD LYTTELTON.

Wedlock, indeed, hath oft compared been To public feasts, where meet a public rout, Where they that are without would fain go in, And they that are within would fain go out. Contention betwixt a Wife, etc. SIR J. DAVIES.

O fie upon this single life! forego it. Duchess of Malfy. J. WEBSTER.

1. That man must lead a happy life 2. Who is directed by a wife; 3. Who's free from matrimonial chains 4. Is sure to suffer for his pains.

5. Adam could find no solid peace 6. Till he beheld a woman's face; 7. When Eve was given for a mate, 8. Adam was in a happy state. Epigram on Matrimony: Read alternate lines,—1, 3; 2, 4; 5, 7; 6, 8.

The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear; And something every day they live To pity and perhaps forgive. Mutual Forbearance. W. COWPER.

But happy they, the happiest of their kind! Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. Seasons: Spring. J. THOMSON.

And when with envy Time, transported, Shall think to rob us of our joys, You'll in your girls again be courted, And I'll go wooing in my boys. Winifreda. T. PERCY.

Cling closer, closer, life to life, Cling closer, heart to heart; The time will come, my own wed Wife, When you and I must part! Let nothing break our band but Death, For in the world above 'Tis the breaker Death that soldereth Our ring of Wedded Love. On a Wedding Day. G. MASSEY.

MEDICINE.

You tell your doctor, that y' are ill; And what does he, but write a bill? Of which you need not read one letter; The worse the scrawl, the dose the better, For if you knew but what you take, Though you recover, he must break. Alma, Canto III. M. PRIOR.

But when ill indeed, E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed. Lodgings for Single Gentlemen. G. COLEMAN, the Younger.

"Is there no hope?" the sick man said. The silent doctor shook his head And took his leave with signs of sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow. The Sick Man and the Angel. J. GAY.

I do remember an apothecary.

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Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuffed, and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes. Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

With us ther was a Doctour of Phisik, In al this world ne was ther non him lyk To speke of phisik and of surgerye.

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He knew the cause of every maladye, Were it of hoot or colde, or moyste or drye, And wher engendered and of what humour; He was a verrey parfight practisour. Canterbury Tales: Prologue. CHAUCER.

'T is not amiss, ere ye're giv'n o'er. To try one desp'rate med'cine more; For where your case can be no worse, The desp'rat'st is the wisest course. Hudibras to Sidrophel. S. BUTLER.

Take a little rum, The less you take the better, Pour it in the lakes Of Wener or of Wetter.

Dip a spoonful out And mind you don't get groggy, Pour it in the lake Of Winnipissiogie.

Stir the mixture well Lest it prove inferior, Then put half a drop Into Lake Superior.

Every other day Take a drop in water, You'll be better soon— Or at least you oughter. Lines on Homoeopathy. BISHOP G.W. DOANE.

By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death Will seize the doctor too. Cymbeline, Act v. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

MELANCHOLY.

Melancholy Is not, as you conceive, indisposition Of body, but the mind's disease. The Lover's Melancholy, Act iii. Sc. 1. J. FORD.

Go—you may call it madness, folly, You shall not chase my gloom away. There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not, if I could, be gay! To —— S. ROGERS.

There is a mood (I sing not to the vacant and the young), There is a kindly mood of melancholy That wings the soul and points her to the skies. Ruins of Rome. J. DYER.

MEMORY.

And, when the stream Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left, Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory, images and precious thoughts That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed. The Excursion, Bk. VII. W. WORDSWORTH.

I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

This memory brightens o'er the past, As when the sun concealed Behind some cloud that near us hangs, Shines on a distant field. A Gleam of Sunshine. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love's recompense. Richard II., Act ii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

The sweet remembrance of the just Shall flourish when he sleeps in dust. Psalm CXII. TATE AND BRADY.

When he shall hear she died upon his words, Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparelled in more precious habit, More moving-delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she lived indeed. Much Ado about Nothing, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Thou, thou alone, shall dwell forever. And still shall recollection trace In fancy's mirror, ever near, Each smile, each tear, upon that face— Though lost to sight, to memory dear. Though Lost to Sight, to Memory Dear. T. MOORE.

Joy's recollection is no longer joy, While sorrow's memory is a sorrow still. Doge of Venice. LORD BYRON.

Of joys departed, Not to return, how painful the remembrance! The Grave. R. BLAIR.

He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. Romeo and Juliet, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start When Memory plays an old tune on the heart! Old Dobbin. R. COOK.

What peaceful hours I once enjoyed! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill. Walking with God. W. COWPER.

While memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain. Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

The leaves of memory seem to make A mournful rustling in the dark. The Fire of Driftwood. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

My memory now is but the tomb of joys long past. The Giaour. LORD BYRON.

Remembrance and reflection how allied! What thin partitions sense from thought divide! Essay on Man, Epistle I. A. POPE.

And memory, like a drop that night and day Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away! Lalla Rookh. T. MOORE.

Of all affliction taught the lover yet, 'T is sure the hardest science to forget. Eloisa to Abélard. A. POPE.

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. Eloisa to Abélard. A. POPE.

To live with them is far less sweet Than to remember thee! I saw thy form. T. MOORE.

The heart hath its own memory, like the mind And in it are enshrined The precious keepsakes, into which is wrought The giver's loving thought. From my Arm-chair. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

MERCY.

The quality of mercy is not strained,— It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blessed,— It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:

'T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The thronèd monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings: But mercy is above this sceptred sway,— It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice….

We do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. Merchant of Venice, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Who will not mercie unto others show, How can he mercie ever hope to have? Faërie Queene, Bk. VI. Canto I. E. SPENSER.

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. Titus Andronicus, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Yet I shall temper so Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most Them fully satisfied, and Thee appease. Paradise Lost, Bk. X. MILTON.

MERRIMENT.

Gold that buys health can never be ill spent, Nor hours laid out in harmless merriment. Westward Ho, Act v. Sc. 3. J. WEBSTER.

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. Tempest, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

The glad circles round them yield their souls To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall. The Seasons: Summer. J. THOMSON.

As merry as the day is long. Much Ado about Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. Taming of the Shrew: Induction, Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

A merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal. His eye begets occasion for his wit. For every object that the one doth catch, The other turns to a mirth-loving jest. Love's Labor's Lost, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Jog on, jog, on the footpath way, And merrily hent the stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a. The Winter's Tale, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt, And every grin, so merry, draws one out. Expostulatory Odes, XV. DR. J. WOLCOTT (Peter Pindar).

And yet, methinks, the older that one grows, Inclines us more to laugh than scold, tho' laughter Leaves us so doubly serious shortly after. Beppo. LORD BYRON.

There's not a string attuned to mirth But has its chord in melancholy. Ode to Melancholy. T. HOOD.

Low gurgling laughter, as sweet As the swallow's song i' the South, And a ripple of dimples that, dancing, meet By the curves of a perfect mouth. Ariel. P.H. HAYNE.

Fight Virtue's cause, stand up in Wit's defence, Win us from vice and laugh us into sense. On the Prospect of Peace. T. TICKELL.

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? Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

MIND.

We had not walked But for Tradition; we walk evermore To higher paths by brightening Reason's lamp. Spanish Gypsy, Bk. II. GEORGE ELIOT.

He that of such a height hath built his mind, And reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong, As neither fear nor hope can shake the frame Of his resolvèd powers; nor all the wind Of vanity or malice pierce to wrong His settled peace, or to disturb the same; What a fair seat hath he, from whence he may The boundless wastes and wilds of man survey?

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Unless above himself he can Erect himself, how poor a thing is man! To the Countess of Cumberland. S. DANIEL.

The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. Paradise Lost, Bk. I. MILTON.

Sure, He that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and godlike reason, To fust in us unused. Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice, Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice. The Vanity of Human Wishes. DR. S. JOHNSON.

How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! Still to ourselves in every place consigned, Our own felicity we make or find. With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. Lines added to Goldsmith's Traveller. DR. S. JOHNSON.

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh. Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Measure your mind's height by the shade it casts! Paracelsus. R. BROWNING.

Were I so tall to reach the pole, Or grasp the ocean with my span, I must be measured by my soul: The mind's the standard of the man. Horæ Lyricæ, Bk. II.: False Greatness. DR. I. WATTS.

Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise; His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies. Moral Essays, Epistle I. A. POPE.

While Reason drew the plan, the Heart informed The moral page and Fancy lent it grace. Liberty, Pt. IV. J. THOMSON.

Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive. Yes! Thou art fair. WORDSWORTH.

Cried, "'T is resolved, for Nature pleads that he Should only rule who most resembles me. Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, Mature in dulness from his tender years; Shadwell alone of all my sons is he Who stands confirmed in full stupidity. The rest to some faint meaning make pretence, But Shadwell never deviates into sense. Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, Strike through and make a lucid interval; But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray." Mac Flecknoe. J. DRYDEN.

MISSIONS.

Onward, ye men of prayer! Scatter in rich exuberance the seed, Whose fruit is living bread, and all your need Will God supply; his harvest ye shall share.

Seek ye the far-off isle; The sullied jewel of the deep, O'er whose remembered beauty angels weep, Restore its lustre and to God give spoil. Missionaries. W.B. TAPPAN.

When they reach the land of strangers, And the prospect dark appears, Nothing seen but toils and dangers, Nothing felt but doubts and fears; Be thou with them! Hear their sighs, and count their tears. Departing Missionaries. T. KELLY.

Shall we, whose souls are lighted With wisdom from on high, Shall we to men benighted The Lamp of life deny? Salvation! O Salvation! The joyful sound proclaim, Till earth's remotest nation Has learned Messiah's name. From Greenland's Icy Mountains. BISHOP R. HEBER.

Blest river of salvation, Pursue thy onward way; Flow thou to every nation, Nor in thy richness stay: Stay not till all the lowly Triumphant reach their home; Stay not till all the holy Proclaim, "The Lord is come!" Success of the Gospel. S.F. SMITH.

Nor shall thy spreading gospel rest, Till through the world thy truth has run: Till Christ has all the nations blessed That see the light, or feel the sun. God's Word and Works. DR. I. WATTS.

MODERATION.

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words,—health, peace, and competence. Rut health consists with temperance alone. And peace, O Virtue! peace is all thine own. Essay on Man, Epistle IV. A. POPE.

These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume.

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Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. SHAKESPEARE.

They surfeited with honey; and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act iii. Sc2. SHAKESPEARE.

And for my means. I'll husband them so well They shall go far with little. Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

He that holds fast the golden mean, And lives contentedly between The little and the great, Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door. Translation of Horace, Bk. II. Ode X. W. COWPER.

Take this at least, this last advice, my son: Keep a stiff rein, and move but gently on: The coursers of themselves will run too fast, Your art must be to moderate their haste. Metamorphoses: Phaeton, Bk. II. OVID. Trans. of ADDISON.

Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest, Ride more than thou goest, Learn more than thou trowest, Set less than thou throwest. King Lear, Act i. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

MOON.

The night is come, but not too soon; And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. The Light of Stars. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

See yonder fire! it is the moon Slow rising o'er the eastern hill. It glimmers on the forest tips, And through the dewy foliage drips In little rivulets of light, And makes the heart in love with night. Christus: The Golden Legend, Pt. VI. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

How like a queen comes forth the lonely Moon From the slow opening curtains of the clouds; Walking in beauty to her midnight throne! Diana. G. CROLY.

The Moon arose: she shone upon the lake, Which lay one smooth expanse of silver light; She shone upon the hills and rocks, and cast Upon their hollows and their hidden glens A blacker depth of shade. Madoc, Pt. II. R. SOUTHEY.

No rest—no dark. Hour after hour that passionless bright face Climbs up the desolate blue. Moon-struck. D.M. MULOCK CRAIK.

Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go Over those hoary crests, divinely led! Art thou that huntress of the silver bow Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread Those cloudy summits thence to gaze below, Like the wild chamois from her Alpine snow, Where hunters never climbed—secure from dread? Ode to the Moon. T. HOOD.

And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon All this, and cast a wide and tender light, Which softened down the hoar austerity Of rugged desolation, and filled up, As 't were anew, the gaps of centuries, Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old!— The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns. Manfred, Act iii. Sc. 4 (The Coliseum). LORD BYRON.

When the moon shone, we did not see the candle; So doth the greater glory dim the less. Merchant of Venice, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

The moon looks On many brooks, "The brook can see no moon but this." While gazing on the moon's light. T. MOORE.

I see them on their winding way. Above their ranks the moonbeams play.

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And waving arms and banners bright Are glancing in the mellow light. Lines written to a March. BISHOP R. HEBER.

The devil's in the moon for mischief; they Who called her chaste, methinks, began too soon Their nomenclature; there is not a day, The longest, not the twenty-first of June, Sees half the business in a wicked way. On which three single hours of moonshine smile— And then she looks so modest all the while! Don Juan. Canto I. LORD BYRON.

Faery elves, Whose midnight revels, by a forest-side, Or fountain, some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth Wheels her pale course. Paradise Lost, Bk. I. MILTON.

Day glimmered in the east, and the white Moon Hung like a vapor in the cloudless sky. Italy: Lake of Geneva. S. ROGERS.

MORNING.

But soft! methinks I scent the morning air. Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire. Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

Look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, roundabout, Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray. Much Ado about Nothing, Act v. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Till morning fair Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray. Paradise Regained, Bk. IV. MILTON.

The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light. Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Clothing the palpable and familiar With golden exhalations of the dawn. The Death of Wallenstein, Act i. Sc. 1. S.T. COLERIDGE.

Night wanes,—the vapors round the mountains curled Melt into morn, and light awakes the world. Lara. LORD BYRON.

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops. Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

Night's sun was driving His golden-haired horses up; Over the eastern firths High flashed their manes. The Longbeard's Saga. C. KINGSLEY.

Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose From out night's gray and cloudy sheath; Softly and still it grows and grows, Petal by petal, leaf by leaf. The Morning Comes Before the Sun. S.C. WOOLSEY (Susan Coolidge).

The charm dissolves apace, And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason. Tempest, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

An hour before the worshipped sun Peered forth the golden window of the east. Romeo and Juliet, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contained no tomb,— And glowing into day. Childe Harold, Canto III. LORD BYRON.

Hail, gentle dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail! Rejoiced I see thy purple mantle spread O'er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way, And orient pearls from ev'ry shrub depend. The Chase, Bk. II. W.C. SOMERVILLE.

Morn in the white wake of the morning star Came furrowing all the orient into gold. The Princess. A. TENNYSON.

The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews. The Seasons: Summer. J. THOMSON.

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet With charms of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew. Paradise Lost, Bk. IV. MILTON.

This morning, like the spirit of a youth That means to be of note, begins betimes. Antony and Cleopatra, Act iv. So. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

Morn, Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarred the gates of light. Paradise Lost, Bk. VI. MILTON.

Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, When Adam waked, so customed, for his sleep Was aery-light, from pure digestion bred. Paradise Lost, Bk. V. MILTON.

At last, the golden orientall gate Of greatest heaven gan to open fayre, And Phoebus, fresh as brydegrome to his mate. Came dauncing forth, shaking his dewie hayre; And hurls his glistring beams through gloomy ayre. Faërie Queene, Bk. I. Canto V. E. SPENSER.

But yonder comes the powerful King of Day Rejoicing in the east. The Seasons: Summer. J. THOMSON.

'Tis always morning somewhere in the world, And Eos rises, circling constantly The varied regions of mankind. No pause Of renovation and of freshening rays She knows. Orion, Bk. III. Canto III. R.H. HORNE.

MOTHER.

The only love which, on this teeming earth, Asks no return for passion's wayward birth. The Dream. HON. MRS. NORTON.

A mother's love,—how sweet the name! What is a mother's love?— A noble, pure and tender flame. Enkindled from above. To bless a heart of earthly mould; The warmest love that can grow cold;— This is a mother's love. A Mother's Love. J. MONTGOMERY.

Hath he set bounds between their love and me? I am their mother; who shall bar me from them? King Richard III., Act iv. Sc.1. SHAKESPEARE.

The poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. Macbeth, Act iv. Sc.2. SHAKESPEARE.

Where yet was ever found a mother Who'd give her booby for another? Fables: The Mother, the Nurse, and the Fairy, J. GAY.

Women know The way to rear up children (to be just); They know a simple, merry, tender knack Of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, And stringing pretty words that make no sense, And kissing full sense into empty words: Which things are corals to cut life upon, Although such trifles. Aurora Leigh, Bk. I. E.B. BROWNING.

They say that man is mighty. He governs land and sea, He wields a mighty scepter O'er lesser powers that be; But a mightier power and stronger Man from his throne has hurled, For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world. What Rules the World. W.R. WALLACE.

Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the place to make it well? My mother. My Mother. JANE TAYLOR.

Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay. The Princess, Canto VII. A. TENNYSON.

A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive. The Three Graces. S.T. COLERIDGE.

MOUNTAIN.

Two voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains; each a mighty Voice. Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland. W. WORDSWORTH.

Who first beholds those everlasting clouds, Seedtime and harvest, morning, noon, and night, Still where they were, steadfast, immovable; Who first beholds the Alps—that mighty chain

Of mountains, stretching on from east to west, So massive, yet so shadowy, so ethereal, As to belong rather to heaven than earth— But instantly receives into his soul A sense, a feeling that he loses not, A something that informs him 'tis a moment Whence he may date henceforward and forever! Italy. S. ROGERS.

The avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow!— All that expands the spirit, yet appalls, Gather around these summits, as to show How earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below. Childe Harold, Canto III. LORD BYRON.

Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else Like kindred drops been mingled into one. The Task, Bk. II. W. COWPER.

Over the hills and far away. The Beggar's Opera, Act i. Sc. 1. J. GAY.

Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow. Manfred, Act i. Sc. 1. LORD BYRON.

MOURNING.

They truly mourn, that mourn without a witness. Mirza. R. BARON.

He mourns the dead who lives as they desire. Night Thoughts, Night II. DR. E. YOUNG.

Each lonely scene shall thee restore; For thee the tear be duly shed; Beloved till life can charm no more, And mourned till Pity's self be dead. Dirge in Cymbeline. W. COLLINS.

Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,—not dead, but gone before,— He gathers round him. Human Life. S. ROGERS.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break. Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear. All's Well that Ends Well, Act v. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

We bear it calmly, though a ponderous woe. And still adore the hand that gives the blow. Verses to his Friend under Affliction. J. POMFRET.

My grief lies all within; And these external manners of laments Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul. King Richard II., Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

What though no friends in sable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances and the public show! To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. A. POPE.

He first deceased; she for a little tried To live without him, liked it not, and died. Upon the Death of Sir Albert Morton's Wife. SIR H. WOTTON.

Poor Jack, farewell! I could have better spared a better man. King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act v. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

So may he rest: his faults lie gently on him! King Henry VIII, Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. Eternity mourns that. 'Tis an ill cure For life's worst ills to have no time to feel them.

Philip Van Artevelde, Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 5. H. TAYLOR.

The very cypress droops to death— Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled, The only constant mourner o'er the dead. The Giaour. LORD BYRON.

MURDER.

O blissful God, that art so just and trewe! Lo, howe that thou biwreyest mordre alway! Mordre wol out, that se we day by day. The Nonnes Preestes Tale. CHAUCER.

Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies. The gods on murtherers fix revengeful eyes. The Widow's Tears. G. CHAPMAN.

Murder may pass unpunished for a time, But tardy justice will o'ertake the crime. The Cock and the Fox. J. DRYDEN.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

MUSIC.

God is its author, and not man; he laid The key-note of all harmonies; he planned All perfect combinations, and he made Us so that we could hear and understand. Music. J.A.C. BRAINARD.

There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears: Their earth is but an echo of the spheres. Don Juan, Canto XV. LORD BYRON.

With melting airs, or martial, brisk, or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touched within us, and the heart replies. The Task, Bk. VI.: Winter Walk at Noon. W. COWPER.

A velvet flute-note fell down pleasantly, Upon the bosom of that harmony, And sailed and sailed incessantly, As if a petal from a wild-rose blown Had fluttered down upon that pool of tone, And boatwise dropped o' the convex side And floated down the glassy tide And clarified and glorified The solemn spaces where the shadows bide. The Symphony. S. LANTER.

Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence. How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled. Comus. MILTON.

Though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. Measure for Measure, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.— That strain again—it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odor. Twelfth Night, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Where music dwells Lingering and wandering on, as loath to die, Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof That they were born for immortality. Ecclesiastical Sonnets, Pt. III. xliii. W. WORDSWORTH.

Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, To soften rooks, or bend a knotted oak. I've read that things inanimate have moved, And, as with living souls, have been informed By magic numbers and persuasive sound. The Mourning Bride, Act i. Sc. 1. W. CONGREVE.

There is a charm, a power, that sways the breast; Bids every passion revel or be still; Inspires with rage, or all our cares dissolves: Can soothe distraction, and almost despair. Art of Preserving Health. J. ARMSTRONG.

The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the Master's spell; And feeling hearts—touch them but lightly—pour A thousand melodies unheard before! Human Life. S. ROGERS.

Give me some music; music, moody food Of us that trade in love. Antony and Cleopatra, Act ii. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

See to their desks Apollo's sons repair, Swift rides the rosin o'er the horse's hair! In unison their various tones to tune. Murmurs the hautboy, growls the hoarse bassoon; In soft vibration sighs the whispering lute, Tang goes the harpsichord, too-too the flute, Brays the loud trumpet, squeaks the fiddle sharp, Winds the French-horn, and twangs the tingling harp; Till, like great Jove, the leader, figuring in, Attunes to order the chaotic din. Rejected Addresses: The Theatre. H. AND J. SMITH.

'Tis believed that this harp which I wake now for thee Was a siren of old who sung under the sea. The Origin of the Harp. T. MOORE.

And wheresoever, in his rich creation, Sweet music breathes—in wave, or bird, or soul— 'Tis but the faint and far reverberation Of that great tune to which the planets roll! Music. F.S. OSGOOD.

He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced; As some vast river of unfailing source, Rapid, exhaustless, deep, his numbers flowed, And opened new fountains in the human heart. Course of Time, Bk. IV. R. POLLOK.

Music resembles poetry: in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a master-hand alone can reach. Essay on Criticism. A. POPE.

NAME.

Who hath not owned, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name? Pleasures of Hope, Pt. II. T. CAMPBELL.

Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honor and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations. King Henry VIII., Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Halloo your name to the reverberate hills And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. Twelfth Night, Act i. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

My name is Norval; on the Grampian hills My father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain, Whose constant cares were to increase his store, And keep his only son, myself, at home. Douglas, Act ii. Sc. 1. J. HOME.

And if his name be George. I'll call him Peter; For new-made honor doth forget men's names. King John, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

What woful stuff this madrigal would be If some starved hackney sonneteer, or me, But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines! Essay on Criticism, Pt. II A. POPE.

'Tis from high life high characters are drawn; A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn. Moral Essays, Epistle I. A. POPE.

Oh! Amos Cottle![A] Phoebus! What a name To fill the speaking trump of future fame! English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. LORD BYRON.

[Footnote A: "Mr. Cottle, Amos or Joseph, I don't know which, but one or both, once sellers of books they did not write, but now writers of books that do not sell, have published a pair of epics."—THE AUTHOR.]

NATURE.

The fall of kings, The rage of nations, and the crush of states, Move not the man, who, from the world escaped, In still retreats and flowery solitudes, To nature's voice attends, from month to month, And day to day, through the revolving year. The Seasons: Autumn. J. THOMSON.

When that the monthe of May Is comen, and that I hear the foules synge, And that the floures gynnen for to sprynge, Farwel my boke, and my devocion. Legende of Goode Women: Prologue. CHAUCER.

To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven,—to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament. Sonnet XIV. KEATS.

What more felicitie can fall to creature. Than to enjoy delight with libertie, And to be lord of all the workes of Nature, To raine in th' aire from earth to highest skie, To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature! The Fate of the Butterfly. E. SPENSER.

Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees. Essay on Man, Epistle I. A. POPE.

In such green palaces the first kings reigned, Slept in their shades, and angels entertained; With such old counsellors they did advise, And by frequenting sacred groves grew wise. On St. James' Park. E. WALLER

And recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul. The Excursion, Bk. IV. W. WORDSWORTH.

Nature! great parent! whose unceasing hand Rolls round the seasons of the changeful year; How mighty, how majestic are thy works! The Seasons: Winter. J. THOMSON.

Every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn, The moan of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees. The Princess, Canto VII. A. TENNYSON.

I trust in Nature for the stable laws Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant And Autumn garner to the end of time. I trust in God—the right shall he the right And other than the wrong, while he endures; I trust in my own soul, that can perceive The outward and the inward, Nature's good And God's. A Soul Tragedy, Act i. R. BROWNING.

I care not, Fortune, what you me deny; You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace, You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve. The Castle of Indolence, Canto II. J. THOMSON.

Who can paint Like Nature? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers? The Seasons: Spring. J. THOMSON.

For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss. The Cock and Fox. J. DRYDEN.

The course of nature is the art of God. Night Thoughts, Night IX. DR. E. YOUNG.

'Tis elder Scripture, writ by God's own hand: Scripture authentic! uncorrupt by man. Night Thoughts, Night IX. DR. E. YOUNG.

Nature, the vicar of the almightie Lord. Assembly of Foules. CHAUCER.

To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye. Miscellaneous Sonnets. W. WORDSWORTH.

NIGHT.

Darkness now rose, As daylight sunk, and brought in low'ring Night, Her shadowy offspring. Paradise Regained, Bk. IV. MILTON.

Now black and deep the Night begins to fall, A shade immense! Sunk in the quenching gloom, Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth. Order confounded lies; all beauty void, Distinction lost, and gay variety One universal blot: such the fair power Of light, to kindle and create the whole. The Seasons: Autumn. J. THOMSON.

How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven: In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark-blue depths. Beneath her steady ray The desert-circle spreads. Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. How beautiful is night! Thalaba. R. SOUTHEY.

This sacred shade and solitude, what is it? 'Tis the felt presence of the Deity.

* * * * *

By night an atheist half believes a God. Night Thoughts, Night V. DR. E. YOUNG.

Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. Night Thoughts, Night I. DR. E. YOUNG.

All is gentle; naught Stirs rudely; but, congenial with the night, Whatever walks is gliding like a spirit. Doge of Venice. LORD BYRON.

O radiant Dark! O darkly fostered ray! Thou hast a joy too deep for shallow Day. The Spanish Gypsy, Bk. I. GEORGE ELIOT.

I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned the language of another world. Manfred, Act iii. Sc. 4. LORD BYRON.

Night is the time for rest; How sweet, when labors close. To gather round an aching breast The curtain of repose, Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Down on our own delightful bed! Night. J. MONTGOMERY.

Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task foredone. Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Quiet night, that brings Rest to the laborer, is the outlaw's day, In which he rises early to do wrong, And when his work is ended dares not sleep. The Guardian, Act ii. Sc. 4. P. MASSINGER.

I must become a borrower of the night For a dark hour or twain. Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

All was so still, so soft, in earth and air, You scarce would start to meet a spirit there Secure that nought of evil could delight To walk in such a scene, on such a night! Lara. LORD BYRON.

Soon as midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence. Paradise Lost, Bk. V. MILTON.

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve; Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

In the dead vast and middle of the night. Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

'Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and Hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

O wild and wondrous midnight, There is a might in thee To make the charmèd body Almost like spirit be. And give it some faint glimpses Of immortality! Midnight. J.R. LOWELL.

NOBILITY.

Be noble! and the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping, but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine own. Sonnet IV. J.R. LOWELL.

His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for 's power to thunder. Coriolanus, Act iii. Sc 1. SHAKESPEARE.

This was the noblest Roman of them all: All the conspirators save only he Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar; He only, in a general honest thought And common good to all, made one of them. Julius Cæsar, Act v. Sc 5. SHAKESPEARE.

OPINION.

For most men (till by losing rendered sager) Will back their own opinions by a wager. Beppo. LORD BYRON.

Some praise at morning what they blame at night, But always think the last opinion right. Essay on Criticism, Pt. II. A. POPE.

He that complies against his will Is of his own opinion still. Hudibras, Canto III. S. BUTLER.

OPPORTUNITY.

Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offered, Shall never find it more. Antony and Cleopatra, Act ii. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE.

This could but have happened once, And we missed it, lost it forever. Youth and Art. R. BROWNING.

He that will not when he may, When he will he shall have nay. Quoted in Anatomy of Melancholy. R. BURTON.

He that would not when he might, He shall not when he wolda. Reliques: The Baffled Knight. BISHOP T. PERCY.

Urge them while their souls Are capable of this ambition. Lest zeal, nor melted by the windy breath Of soft petitions, pity and remorse, Cool and congeal again to what it was. King John, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold. Desultory Stanzas. W. WORDSWORTH.

ORATORY.

But, spite of all the criticising elves, Those who would make us feel—must feel themselves. The Rosciad. C. CHURCHILL.

Words that weep and tears that speak. The Prophet. A. COWLEY.

Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece, To Macedon. and Artaxerxes' throne. Paradise Regained, Bk, IV. MILTON.

Where nature's end of language is declined, And men talk only to conceal the mind. Love of Fame, Satire II. DR. E. YOUNG.

What means this passionate discourse, This peroration with such circumstance? Henry VI., Pt. II. Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Frank, haughty, rash,—the Rupert of debate. The New Timon, Pt. I. E. BULWER-LYTTON.

For rhetoric, he could not ope His mouth, but out there flew a trope.

* * * * *

For all a rhetorician's rules Teach nothing but to name his tools. Hudibras, Pt. 1. Canto 1. S. BUTLER.

"I wonder if Brougham thinks as much as he talks," Said a punster, perusing a trial; "I vow, since his lordship was made Baron Vaux, He's been Vaux et proeterea nihil!" A Voice and Nothing More. ANONYMOUS.

ORDER.

Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined; Till at his second bidding darkness fled. Light shone, and order from disorder sprung. Paradise Lost, Bk. III. MILTON.

For the world was built in order And the atoms march in tune: Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, The sun obeys them, and the moon. Monadnock. R.W. EMERSON.

Mark what unvaried laws preserve each state, Laws wise as Nature, and as fixed as Fate. Essay on Man, Epistle III. A. POPE.

The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre Observe degree, priority and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office and custom, in all line of order. Troilus and Cresida, Act . Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

PAIN.

The scourge of life, and death's extreme disgrace, The smoke of Hell, that monster called Paine. Sidera: Paine. SIR P. SIDNEY.

Nothing begins, and nothing ends, That is not paid with moan; For we are born in others' pain, And perish in our own. Daisy. F. THOMPSON.

Pain is no longer pain when it is past. Nature's Lesson. M.J. PRESTON.

Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain. Love's Labor's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Alas! by some degree of woe We every bliss must gain; The heart can ne'er a transport know That never feels a pain. Song. LORD LYTTELTON.

PAINTING.

The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring. Monody on the Death of the Rt. Hon. R.B. Sheridan. LORD BYRON.

Hard features every bungler can command: To draw true beauty shows a master's hand. To Mr. Lee, on his Alexander. J. DRYDEN.

A flattering painter, who made it his care To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are. Retaliation. O. GOLDSMITH.

Lely on animated canvas stole The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul. Horace, Bk. II. Epistle I. A. POPE.

I will say of it, It tutors nature: artificial strife Lives in these touches, livelier than life. Timon of Athens, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

With hue like that when some great painter dips His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse. The Revolt of Islam. P.B. SHELLEY.

PARTING.

To know, to esteem, to love,—and then to part, Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart. On Taking Leave of ——. S.T. COLERIDGE.

Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to love; And, when we meet a mutual heart, Come in between and bid us part? Song. J. THOMSON.

Two lives that once part, are as ships that divide When, moment on moment, there rushes between The one and the other, a sea;— Ah, never can fall from the days that have been A gleam on the years that shall be! A Lament. E. BULWER-LYTTON.

Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal. Childe Harold, Canto I. LORD BYRON.

We twain have met like the ships upon the sea, Who hold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet; One little hour! and then, away they speed On lonely paths, through mist, and cloud, and foam, To meet no more. Life Drama, Sc. 4. A. SMITH.

He did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving as the fits and stirs of his mind Could best express how slow his soul sailed on.— How swift his ship. Cymbeline, Act i. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

But in vain she did conjure him, To depart her presence so, Having a thousand tongues t'allure him And but one to bid him go. When lips invite, And eyes delight, And cheeks as fresh as rose in June Persuade delay, What boots to say Forego me now, come to me soon? Dulcina. SIR W. RALEIGH.

Good night, good night: parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow. Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

JULIET.—O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again? ROMEO.—I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come. Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

In the hope to meet Shortly again, and make our absence sweet. Underwoods.. B. JONSON.

When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss: Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this! When we two parted. LORD BYRON.

BRUTUS.—Whether we shall meet again I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take; For ever, and for ever, farewell. Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why, then this parting was well made. CASSIUS.—For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus! Julius Cæsar, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

PASSION.

Take heed lest passion sway Thy judgment to do aught, which else free will Would not admit. Paradise Lost, Bk. VIII. MILTON.

In men, we various ruling passions find; In women two almost divide the kind; Those only fixed, they first or last obey, The love of pleasure, and the love of sway. Moral Essays, Epistle II. A. POPE.

Passions are likened best to floods and streams, The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb. The Silent Lover. SIR W. RALEIGH.

A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. Henry VI., Pt. III. Act iv. Sc. 8 SHAKESPEARE.

The ruling passion, be it what it will, The ruling passion conquers reason still.

* * * * *

Hear then the truth: 'Tis Heav'n each passion sends, And different men directs to different ends. Extremes in nature equal good produce; Extremes in man concur to general use. Moral Essays, Epistle III. A. POPE.

And hence one master passion in the breast, Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest. Essay on Man, Epistle II. A. POPE.

PAST, THE.

O, call back yesterday, bid time return.

* * * * *

To-day, unhappy day, too late. King Richard II., Act iii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Not heaven itself upon the past has power; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour. Imitation of Horace, Bk, I. Ode XXIX. J. DRYDEN.

Things without all remedy Should be without regard: what's done is done. Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were,

* * * * *

A school-boy's tale, the wonder of an hour! Childe Harold, Canto II. LORD BYRON.

This is the place. Stand still, my steed, Let me review the scene, And summon from the shadowy Past The forms that once have been. A Gleam of Sunshine. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Applause To that blest son of foresight: lord of fate! That awful independent on to-morrow Whose work is done; who triumphs in the past; Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile. Night Thoughts, Night II. DR. E. YOUNG.

For time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly, Grasps-in the comer. Welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. Troilus and Cressida, Act iii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

PATIENCE.

Endurance is the crowning quality, And patience all the passion of great hearts. Columbus. J.R. LOWELL.

His patient soul endures what Heav'n ordains, But neither feels nor fears ideal pains. The Borough. G. CRABBE.

'Tis all men's office to speak patience To those that ring under the load of sorrow. But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

And I must bear What is ordained with patience, being aware Necessity doth front the universe With an invincible gesture. Prometheus Bound. E.B. BROWNING.

How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Othello, Act ii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

I will with patience hear, and find a time Both meet to hear and answer such high things. Julius Cæsar, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

I worked with patience, which means almost power. Aurora Leigh, Bk. III. E.B. BROWNING.

Or arm th' obdured breast With stubborn patience as with triple steel. Paradise Lost, Bk. II. MILTON.

Patience, sov'reign o'er transmuted ill. The Vanity of Human Wishes. DR. S. JOHNSON.

Patience, my lord! why, 't is the soul of peace; Of all the virtues 'tis nearest kin to heaven; It makes men look like gods. The best of men That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer, A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit, The first true gentleman that ever breathed. The Honest Whore, Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 12. T. DEKKER.

PATRIOTISM.

They love their land, because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why. Connecticut. F-G. HALLECK.

No factious voice Called them unto the field of generous fame, But the pure consecrated love of home; No deeper feeling sways us, when it wakes In all its greatness. The Graves of the Patriots. J.G. PERCIVAL.

The worst of rebels never arm To do their king and country harm, But draw their swords to do them good, As doctors use, by letting blood. Hudibras. S. BUTLER.

Hail! Independence, hail! Heaven's next best gift, To that of life and an immortal soul! Liberty, Pt. V. J. THOMSON.

The inextinguishable spark, which fires The soul of patriots. Leonidas. R. GLOVER.

I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, than mine own life. Coriolanus, Act iii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

What pity is it That we can die but once to save our country! Cato, Act iv. Sc. 4. J. ADDISON.

PEACE.

O Peace! thou source and soul of social life; Beneath whose calm inspiring influence Science his views enlarges, Art refines, And swelling Commerce opens all her ports. Britannia. J. THOMSON.

Ay, but give me worship and quietness; I like it better than a dangerous honor. King Henry VI., Pt. III. Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

This hand, to tyrants ever sworn the foe, For freedom only deals the deadly blow: Then sheathes in calm repose the vengeful blade, For gentle peace in freedom's hallowed shade. Written in an Album. J.Q. ADAMS.

To reap the harvest of perpetual peace, By this one bloody trial of sharp war.

King Richard III., Act v. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Take away the sword; States can be saved without it. Richelieu, Act ii. Sc. 2. E. BULWER-LYTTON.

A peace is of the nature of a conquest: For then both parties nobly are subdued, And neither party loser. King Henry IV., Pt. II. Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

His helmet now shall make a hive for bees, And lover's sonnets turned to holy psalms; A man at arms must now serve on his knees, And feed on prayers, which are his age's alms. Polyhymnia. G. PEELE.

Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace. Night Thoughts, Night V. DR. E. YOUNG.

Till each man finds his own in all men's good, And all men work in noble brotherhood, Breaking their mailèd fleets and armèd towers, And ruling by obeying Nature's powers, And gathering all the fruits of peace and crowned with all her flowers. Ode, sung at the Opening of the International Exhibition. A. TENNYSON.

PEN.

Beneath the rule of men entirely great The pen is mightier than the sword. Richelieu, Act ii. Sc 3. E. BULWER-LYTTON.

The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing. Ecclesiastical Sonnets, Pt. III., v. Walton's Book of Lives. W. WORDSWORTH.

Whose noble praise Deserves a quill pluckt from an angel's wing. Sonnet. DOROTHY BERRY.

You still shall live—such virtue hath my pen, Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men. Sonnet, LXXXI. SHAKESPEARE.

Oh! nature's noblest gift—my gray-goose quill! Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, Torn from thy parent-bird to form a pen, That mighty instrument of little men! English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. LORD BYRON.

PEOPLE, THE.

Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain— Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a changeful dream; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. Thou many-headed monster thing, O, who would wish to be thy king! Lady of the Lake, Canto V. SIR W. SCOTT.

I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people. Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE.

He that depends Upon your favors swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye? With every minute you do change a mind; And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland. Coriolanus, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

The scum That rises upmost when the nation boils. Don Sebastian. J. DRYDEN.

Rumor is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures, And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it. King Henry IV., Pt. II. Act i. Induction. SHAKESPEARE.

The people's voice is odd, It is, and it is not, the voice of God. To Augustus. A. POPE.

Through all disguise, form, place or name, Beneath the flaunting robes of sin, Through poverty and squalid shame, Thou lookest on the man within.

On man, as man, retaining yet, Howe'er debased, and soiled, and dim, The crown upon his forehead set— The immortal gift of God to him. Democracy. J.G. WHITTIER.

PERFECTION.

To gild refinèd gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. King John, Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

How many things by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection! Merchant of Venice, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honor. King Henry VIII., Act v. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be. Essay on Criticism, Pt. II. A. POPE.

PERFUME.

And the ripe harvest of the new-mown hay Gives it a sweet and wholesome odor. Richard III. (Altered), Act v. Sc. 3. C. CIBBER.

Perfume for a lady's chamber. Winter's Tale, Act iv. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

Take your paper, too. And let me have them very well perfumed, For she is sweeter than perfume itself To whom they go to. Taming of the Shrew, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Sabean odors from the spicy shore Of Arabie the blest. Paradise Lost, Bk. IV. MILTON.

And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. Rape of the Lock, Canto I. A. POPE.

A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute. Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

I cannot talk with civet in the room, A fine puss-gentleman that's all perfume. Conversation. W. COWPER.

PERSONAL.

CHAUCER.

As that renownèd poet them compyled With warlike numbers and heroicke sound, Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled, On Fame's eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled. Faërie Queene, Bk. IV. Canto II. E. SPENSER.

EARL OF WARWICK.

Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick! Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings. King Henry VI., Part III. Act iii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

GALILEO.

The starry Galileo, with his woes. Childe Harold, Canto IV. LORD BYRON.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

The admired mirror, glory of our isle, Thou far, far more than mortal man, whose style Struck more men dumb to hearken to thy song Than Orpheus' harp, or Tully's golden tongue. To him, as right, for wit's deep quintessence, For honor, valor, virtue, excellence, Be all the garlands, crown his tomb with bay, Who spake as much as e'er our tongue can say. Britannia's Pastorals, Bk. II. Song 2. W. BROWNE.

EDMUND SPENSER.

Divinest Spenser, heaven-bred, happy Muse! Would any power into my brain infuse Thy worth, or all that poets had before, I could not praise till thou deserv'st no more. Britannia's Pastorals, Bk. II. Song 1. W. BROWNE.

FRANCIS, LORD BACON.

If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined, The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind! Essay on Man, Epistle IV. A. POPE.

BEN JONSON.

O rare Ben Jonson! Epitaph. SIR J. YOUNG.

What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life: then when there hath been thrown Wit able enough to justify the town For three days past; wit that might warrant be For the whole city to talk foolishly Till that were cancelled; and when that was gone, We left an air behind us, which alone Was able to make the two next companies (Right witty, though but downright fools) more wise. Letter to Ben Jonson. F. BEAUMONT.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

Renownèd Spenser, lie a thought more nigh To learnèd Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lie A little nearer Spenser, to make room For Shakespeare in your threefold, fourfold tomb. On Shakespeare. W. BASSE.

ABRAHAM COWLEY.

Old mother-wit and nature gave Shakespeare and Fletcher all they have; In Spenser and in Jonson art Of slower nature got the start; But both in him so equal are, None knows which bears the happiest share; To him no author was unknown, Yet what he wrote was all his own. Elegy on Cowley. SIR J. DENHAM.

EARL OF MARLBOROUGH.

[Lord President of the Council to King James I. Parliament was dissolved March 10, and he died March 14, 1628.]

Till the sad breaking of that Parliament Broke him…. Killed with report that old man eloquent. To the Lady Margaret Ley. MILTON.

JOHN WICKLIFFE.

As thou these ashes, little Brook! wilt bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accursed An emblem yields to friends and enemies, How the bold Teacher's doctrine, sanctified By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed. Ecclesiastical Sonnets, Part II. xvii. To Wickliffe. W. WORDSWORTH.

[Bartlett quotes, in this connection, the following:]

"Some prophet of that day said: 'The Avon to the Severn runs, The Severn to the sea; And Wickliffe's dust shall spread abroad, Wide as the waters be.'" From Address before the "Sons of New Hampshire" (1849). D. WEBSTER.

JOHN MILTON.

Nor second he, that rode sublime Upon the seraph-wings of ecstasy, The secrets of the abyss to spy. He passed the flaming bounds of place and time, The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but, blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night. Progress of Poesy. T. GRAY.

OLIVER CROMWELL.

His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone; For he was great, ere fortune made him so: And wars, like mists that rise against the sun, Made him but greater seem, not greater grow. Oliver Cromwell. J. DRYDEN.

Or, ravished with the whistling of a name, See Cromwell, damned to everlasting fame! Essay on Man, Epistle IV. A. POPE.

KING CHARLES II.

Here lies our sovereign lord the king, Whose word no man relies on; He never says a foolish thing, Nor ever does a wise one. Written on the Bedchamber Door of Charles II. EARL OF ROCHESTER.

MARTIN LUTHER.

The solitary monk who shook the world From pagan slumber, when the gospel trump Thundered its challenge from his dauntless lips In peals of truth. Luther. R. MONTGOMERY.

THOMAS CHATTERTON.

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride. Resolution and Independence. W. WORDSWORTH.

JAMES THOMSON.

A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems, Who, void of envy, guile, and lust of gain, On virtue still, and Nature's pleasing themes, Poured forth his unpremeditated strain:

The world forsaking with a calm disdain, Here laughed he careless in his easy seat; Here quaffed, encircled with the joyous train, Oft moralizing sage: his ditty sweet He lothèd much to write, he carèd to repeat. Stanza introduced into Thomson's "Castle of Indolence," Canto I. LORD LYTTELTON.

In yonder grave a Druid lies. Where slowly winds the stealing wave; The year's best sweets shall duteous rise To deck its poet's sylvan grave. Ode on the Death of Thomson. W. COLLINS.

WILLIAM HOGARTH.

The hand of him here torpid lies That drew the essential form of grace; Here closed in death the attentive eyes That saw the manners in the face. Epitaph. DR. S. JOHNSON.

SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night: God said, "Let Newton be!" and all was light. Epitaph. A. POPE.

DAVID GARRICK.

Here lies David Garrick—describe me, who can. An abridgement of all that was pleasant in man. As an actor, confessed without rival to shine; As a wit, if not first, in the very first line. Retaliation. O. GOLDSMITH.

EDMUND BURKE.

Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it, too much; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind. And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat, To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote: Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining; Though equal to all things, for all things unfit, Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; For a patriot too cool; for a drudge disobedient; And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short, 'twas his fate, unemployed, or in place, sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. Retaliation. O. GOLDSMITH.

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.

Whose humor, as gay as the firefly's light, Played round every subject, and shone as it played;— Whose wit, in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade;— Whose eloquence—brightening whatever it tried, Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave— Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide, As ever bore freedom aloft on its wave! Lines on the Death of Sheridan. T. MOORE.

Long shall we seek his likeness,—long in vain. And turn to all of him which may remain, Sighing that Nature formed but one such man. And broke the die—in moulding Sheridan! Monody on the Death of Sheridan. LORD BYRON.

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

While Washington's a watchword, such as ne'er Shall sink while there's an echo left to air. Age of Bronze. LORD BYRON.

DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

O good gray head which all men knew, O voice from which their omens all men drew, O iron nerve to true occasion true, O fallen at length that tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew! Such was he whom we deplore. The long self-sacrifice of life is o'er. The great World-victor's victor will be seen no more. On the Death of the Duke of Wellington. A. TENNYSON.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

His nature's a glass of champagne with the foam on 't. As tender as Fletcher, as witty as Beaumont; So his best things are done in the flash of the moment. A Fable for Critics. J.R. LOWELL.

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

There in seclusion and remote from men The wizard hand lies cold, Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen, And left the tale half told.

Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power, And the lost clew regain? The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower Unfinished must remain! Hawthorne, May 23, 1864 H.W. LONGFELLOW.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

A Greek head on right Yankee shoulders, whose range Has Olympus for one pole, for t'other the Exchange; He seems, to my thinking (although I'm afraid The comparison must, long ere this, have been made). A Plotinus-Montaigne, where the Egyptian's gold mist And the Gascon's shrewd wit cheek-by-jowl coexist. A Fable for Critics. J.R. LOWELL.

CARLYLE AND EMERSON.

C.'s the Titan, as shaggy of mind as of limb,— E. the clear-eyed Olympian, rapid and slim; The one's two thirds Norseman, the other half Greek, Where the one's most abounding, the other's to seek; C.'s generals require to be seen in the mass,— E.'s specialties gain if enlarged by the glass; C. gives nature and God his own fits of the blues. And rims common-sense things with mystical hues,— E. sits in a mystery calm and intense, And looks coolly around him with sharp common-sense. A Fable for Critics. J.R. LOWELL.

EDGAR ALLAN POE.

There comes Poe, with his raven, like Barnaby Rudge, Three-fifths of him genius and two-fifths sheer fudge, Who talks like a book of iambs and pentameters. In a way to make people of common sense damn metres, Who has written some things quite the best of their kind, But the heart somehow seems all squeezed out by the mind. A Fable for Critics. J.R. LOWELL.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

There is Whittier, whose swelling and vehement heart Strains the strait-breasted drab of the Quaker apart, And reveals the live Man, still supreme and erect, Underneath the bemummying wrappers of sect; There was ne'er a man born who had more of the swing Of the true lyric bard and all that kind of thing;

* * * * *

Our Quaker leads off metaphorical fights For reform and whatever they call human rights, Both singing and striking in front of the war, And hitting his foes with the mallet of Thor. A Fable for Critics. J.R. LOWELL.

PHILOSOPHY.

The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way!

The Excursion, Bk. III. W. WORDSWORTH.

How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns. Comus. MILTON.

In discourse more sweet, (For eloquence the soul song charms the sense,) Others apart sat on a hill retired, In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute; And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost. Of good and evil much they argued then, Of happiness and final misery, Passion and apathy, and glory and shame; Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy. Paradise Lost, Bk. II. MILTON.

Sublime Philosophy! Thou art the patriarch's ladder, reaching heaven, And bright with beckoning angels;—but alas! We see thee, like the patriarch, but in dreams. By the first step,—dull slumbering on the earth. Richelieu, Act iii. Sc. 1. E. BULWER-LYTTON.

Not so the son; he marked this oversight. And then mistook reverse of wrong for right; (For What to shun, will no great knowledge need, But What to follow, is a task indeed!) Moral Essays, Epistle III. A. POPE.

He knew what's what, and that's as high As metaphysic wit can fly. Hudibras, Pt. I. DR. S. BUTLER.

His cogitative faculties immersed In cogibundity of cogitation. Chronon, Act i. Sc. 1. H. CAREY.

When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter," And proved it—'t was no matter what he said. Don Juan, Canto XI. LORD BYRON.

Thinking is but an idle waste of thought. And naught is everything and everything is naught. Rejected Addresses: Cui Bono? H. AND J. SMITH.

HORATIO.—O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! HAMLET.—And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

PITY.

Pity's akin to love; and every thought Of that soft kind is welcome to my soul. Oroonoko, Act ii. Sc. 2. T. SOUTHERNE.

My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks; O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, Come thou on my side, and entreat for me, As you would beg, were you in my distress: A begging prince what beggar pities not? King Richard IV., Act i. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, My mildness hath allayed their swelling griefs. King Henry VI., Pt. III. Act iv. Sc. 8. SHAKESPEARE.

Pity is the virtue of the law, And none but tyrants use it cruelly. Timon of Athens, Act iii. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.

Soft pity never leaves the gentle breast Where love has been received a welcome guest. The Duenna, Act ii. Sc. 3. R.B. SHERIDAN.

PLEASURE.

Pleasures lie thickest where no pleasures seem; There's not a leaf that falls upon the ground But holds some joy of silence or of sound, Some sprite begotten of a summer dream. Hidden Joys. L. BLANCHARD.

Pleasure admitted in undue degree Enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free. Progress of Error. W. COWPER.

Sure as night follows day, Death treads in Pleasure's footsteps round the world, When Pleasure treads the paths which Reason shuns. Night Thoughts, Night V. DR. E. YOUNG.

To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain. Night Thoughts, Night VIII. DR. E. YOUNG. A man of pleasure is a man of pains. Night Thoughts, Night V. DR. E. YOUNG.

Who mixed reason with pleasure and wisdom with mirth. Retaliation. O. GOLDSMITH.

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels. Resolution and Independence. W. WORDSWORTH.

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words—health, peace, and competence. Essay on Man, Epistle IV. A. POPE.

POET, THE.

We call those poets who are first to mark Through earth's dull mist the coming of the dawn,— Who see in twilight's gloom the first pale spark, While others only note that day is gone. Shakespeare. O.W. HOLMES.

Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song. Epistle to G.F. Mathews. J. KEATS.

Most joyful let the poet be; It is through him that all men see. The Poet of the Old and New Times. W.E. CHANNING.

God's prophets of the beautiful. Vision of Poets. E.B. BROWNING.

For that fine madness still he did retain, Which rightly should possess a poet's brain. Of Poets and Poesy: (Christopher Marlowe). M. DRAYTON.

But he, the bard of every age and clime, Of genius fruitful, and of soul sublime, Who, from the glowing mint of fancy, pours No spurious metal, fused from common ores, But gold, to matchless purity refin'd, And stamp'd with all the godhead in his mind. Juvenal. W. GIFFORD.

Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong; They learn in suffering what they teach in song. Julian and Maddalo. P.B. SHELLEY. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide:

There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and claps its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light. The Garden (Translated). A. MARVELL.

In his own verse the poet still we find. In his own page his memory lives enshrined. As in their amber sweets the smothered bees,— As the fair cedar, fallen before the breeze, Lies self-embalmed amidst the mouldering trees. Bryant's Seventieth Birthday. O.W. HOLMES.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains Which only poets know. The Timepiece: The Task, Bk. II. W. COWPER.

While pensive poets painful vigils keep, Sleepless themselves to give their readers sleep. The Dunciad. A. POPE.

Deem not the framing of a deathless lay The pastime of a drowsy summer day. But gather all thy powers, And wreak them on the verse that thou wouldst weave. The Poet. W.C. BRYANT.

From his chaste Muse employed her heaven-taught lyre None but the noblest passions to inspire, Not one immoral, one corrupted thought. One line which, dying, he could wish to blot. Prologue to Thomson's Coriolanus. LORD LYTTELTON.

I can no more believe old Homer blind, Than those who say the sun hath never shined; The age wherein he lived was dark, but he Could not want sight who taught the world to see. Progress of Learning. SIR J. DENHAM.

Read Homer once, and you can read no more, For all books else appear so mean, so poor; Verse may seem prose; but still persist to read, And Homer will be all the books you need. Essay on Poetry. SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE.

The poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above; Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love. The Poet. A. TENNYSON.

Happy who in his verse can gently steer From grave to light, from pleasant to severe. The Art of Poetry. J. DRYDEN.

But those that write in rhyme still make The one verse for the other's sake; For one for sense, and one for rhyme, I think 's sufficient at one time. Hudibras, Pt. II. DR. S. BUTLER.

For rhyme the rudder is of verses. With which, like ships, they steer their courses. Hudibras, Pt. I. DR. S. BUTLER.

And he whose fustian 's so sublimely bad, It is not poetry, but prose run mad. Prologue to Satires. A. POPE.

I had rather be a kitten, and cry, mew, Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers; I had rather hear a brazen can stick turned, Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry: 'T is like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Poets, like painters, thus unskilled to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover every part, And hide with ornaments their want of art. True wit is nature to advantage dressed, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed. Essay on Criticism, Pt. II. A. POPE.

Unjustly poets we asperse; Truth shines the brighter clad in verse, And all the fictions they pursue Do but insinuate what is true. To Stella. J. SWIFT.

Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares,— The Poets! who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays! Personal Talk. W. WORDSWORTH.

POETRY.

Wisdom married to immortal verse. The Excursion, Bk. VII. w. WORDSWORTH.

Of all those arts in which the wise excel, Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well; No writing lifts exalted man so high As sacred and soul-moving poesy. Essay on Poetry. SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE.

Poetry is itself a thing of God; He made his prophets poets; and the more We feel of poesie do we become Like God in love and power.—under-makers. Festus: Proem. P.J. BAILEY.

Go boldly forth, my simple lay, Whose accents flow with artless ease, Like orient pearls at random strung. A Persian Song of Hafiz. SIR W. JONES.

One simile that solitary shines In the dry desert of a thousand lines. Imitations of Horace. Epistle I. Bk. II. A. POPE.

Read, meditate, reflect, grow wise—in vain; Try every help, force fire from every spark; Yet shall you ne'er the poet's power attain, If heaven ne'er stamped you with the muses' mark. The Poet. A. HILL.

Jewels five-words long, That on the stretched forefinger of all time Sparkle forever. The Princess, Canto II. A. TENNYSON.

Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men. Resolution and Independence. W. WORDSWORTH.

The varying verse, the full resounding line. The long majestic march, and energy divine. Imitations of Horace, Bk. II. Epistle I. A. POPE.

Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, or in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That, by the unwilling ploughshare, died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love. Poems in Summer of 1833, XXXVII. W. WORDSWORTH. Thanks untraced to lips unknown Shall greet me like the odors blown From unseen meadows newly mown, Or lilies floating in some pond, Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond; The traveller owns the grateful sense Of sweetness near, he knows not whence, And, pausing, takes with forehead bare The benediction of the air. Snow-Bound. J.G. WHITTIER.

Give me that growth which some perchance deem sleep, Wherewith the steadfast coral-stems arise, Which, by the toil of gathering energies, Their upward way into clear sunshine keep Until, by Heaven's sweetest influences, Slowly and slowly spreads a speck of green Into a pleasant island in the seas, Where, mid tall palms, the cane-roofed home is seen, And wearied men shall sit at sunset's hour, Hearing the leaves and loving God's dear power. Sonnet VII. J.R. LOWELL.

A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 't is the supreme of power; 'T is might half slumbering on its own right arm. Sleep and Poetry. J. KEATS.

For dear to gods and men is sacred song. Self-taught I sing: by Heaven and Heaven alone, The genuine seeds of poesy are sown. Odyssey, Bk. XXII. HOMER. Trans. of POPE.

Still govern thou my song, Urania, and fit audience find, though few. Paradise Lost, Bk. VII. MILTON.

POLITICS.

The freeman casting, with unpurchased hand, The vote that shakes the turrets of the land. Poetry. O.W. HOLMES.

A weapon that comes down as still As snowflakes fall upon the sod; But executes a freeman's will, As lightning does the will of God: And from its force, nor doors nor locks Can shield you;—'t is the ballot-box. A Word from a Petitioner. J. PIERPONT.

What is a Communist? One who has yearnings For equal division of unequal earnings. Epigram. E. ELLIOTT.

Measures, not men, have always been my mark. The Good-natured Man, Act ii. O. GOLDSMITH.

Coffee, which makes the politician wise, And see through all things with his half shut eyes. Rape of the Lock, Canto III. A. POPE.

Get thee glass eyes; And, like a scurvy politician, seem To see the things thou dost not. King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6. SHAKESPEARE.

Here and there some stern, high patriot stood, Who could not get the place for which he sued. Don Juan, Canto XIII. LORD BYRON.

Get place and wealth; if possible, with grace; If not, by any means get wealth and place. Epistles of Horace, Epistle I. A. POPE.

O, that estates, degrees, and offices Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honor Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! Merchant of Venice, Act ii. Sc. 9. SHAKESPEARE.

POSSESSION.

When I behold what pleasure is pursuit, What life, what glorious eagerness it is, Then mark how full possession falls from this, How fairer seem the blossoms than the fruit,— I am perplext, and often stricken mute, Wondering which attained the higher bliss, The wingèd insect, or the chrysalis It thrust aside with unreluctant foot. Pursuit and Possession. T.B. ALDRICH.

Bliss in possession will not last; Remembered joys are never past; At once the fountain, stream, and sea, They were, they are, they yet shall be. The Little Cloud. J. MONTGOMERY.

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless. Childe Harold, Canto II. LORD BYRON.

I die,—but first I have possessed, And come what may, I have been blessed. The Giaour. LORD BYRON.

POVERTY.

I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient. King Henry IV., Pt. II. Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Yon friendless man, at whose dejected eye Th' unfeeling proud one looks, and passes by, Condemned on penury's barren path to roam, Scorned by the world, and left without a home. Pleasures of Hope. T. CAMPBELL.

Through tattered clothes small vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all. King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6. SHAKESPEARE.

Take physic, Pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel. King Lear, Act iii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

O world! how apt the poor are to be proud! Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

This mournful truth is everywhere confessed, Slow rises worth by poverty oppressed. Vanity of Human Wishes. DR. S. JOHNSON.

And rustic life and poverty Grow beautiful beneath his touch. Burns. T. CAMPBELL.

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor. King Richard II., Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

POWER.

Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame. A mechanized automaton. Queen Mab, Pt. III. P.B. SHELLEY.

Because the good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can. Rob Roy's Grave. W. WORDSWORTH.

For what can power give more than food and drink, To live at ease, and not be bound to think? Medal. J. DRYDEN.

Patience and gentleness is power. On a Lock of Milton's Hair. L. HUNT.

Some novel power Sprang up forever at a touch, And hope could never hope too much, In watching thee from hour to hour. In Memoriam, CXI. A. TENNYSON.

A power is passing from the earth. On the Expected Dissolution of Mr. Fox. W. WORDSWORTH.

He hath no power that hath not power to use. Festus, Sc. A Visit. P.J. BAILEY.

PRAISE.

The love of praise, howe'er concealed by art, Reigns more or less, and glows in every heart. Love of Fame, Satire I. DR. E. YOUNG.

One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages. Winter's Tale, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

O Popular Applause! what heart of man Is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms? The Task, Bk. II. W. COWPER.

I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again. Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

To things of sale a seller's praise belongs. Love's Labor's Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

If matters not how false or forced, So the best things be said o' the worst. Hudibras, Pt. II. S. BUTLER.

Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise. Paradise Regained, Bk. III. MILTON.

Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe, Are lost on hearers that our merits know. Iliad, Bk. X. HOMER. Trans. of. POPE.

Not in the clamor of the crowded street, Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat. The Poets. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

PRAYER.

Prayer moves the Hand which moves the world. There is an Eye that Never Sleeps. J.A. WALLACE.

In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part Without the sweet concurrence of the heart. Hesperides: The Heart. R. HERRICK.

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see, So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee. As Down in the Sunless Retreats. T. MOORE.

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer. In Memoriam, XXXII. A. TENNYSON.

Be not afraid to pray—to pray is right. Pray, if thou canst, with hope; but ever pray, Though hope be weak or sick with long delay; Pray in the darkness, if there be no light. Prayer. H. COLERIDGE.

Pray to be perfect, though material leaven Forbid the spirit so on earth to be; But if for any wish thou darest not pray, Then pray to God to cast that wish away. Prayer. H. COLERIDGE.

And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees. Exhortation to Prayer. W. COWPER.

Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice. The Vanity of Human Wishes. DR. S. JOHNSON.

You few that loved me

* * * * *

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. King Henry VIII., Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

PREACHING.

I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause. The Task, Bk. II. W. COWPER.

God preaches, a noted clergyman, And the sermon is never long; So instead of getting to heaven at last, I'm going all along. A Service of Song. E. DICKINSON.

Skilful alike with tongue and pen, He preached to all men everywhere The Gospel of the Golden Rule, The new Commandment given to men, Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need. Tales of a Wayside Inn: Prelude. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Seek to delight, that they may mend mankind. And, while they captivate, inform the mind. Hope. W. COWPER.

The gracious dew of pulpit eloquence, And all the well-whipped cream of courtly sense. Satires: Epilogues, Dialogue I. A. POPE.

The lilies say: Behold how we Preach without words of purity. Consider the Lilies of the Field. C.G. ROSSETTI.

Sow in the morn thy seed, At eve hold not thy hand; To doubt and fear give thou no heed, Broadcast it o'er the land. The Field of the World. J. MONTGOMERY.