Chapter IV: Part III: Sec. 2. Mem. 1. Subs 2. "But to enlarge or illustrate this

power or effects of love is to set a candle in the sun."]

_Lines Written with the Diamond Pencil of Lord Chesterfield_.

Accept a miracle, instead of wit, See two dull lines with Stanhope's pencil writ.

* * * * *

HENRY CAREY. 1663-1743.

_God save the King_.[16]

God save our gracious king, Long live our noble king, God save the king.

[Note 16: The authorship both of the words and music of "God save the King" has long been a matter of dispute, and is still unsettled, though the weight of the evidence is in favor of Carey's claim.]

* * * * *

_Chrononhotonthologos_. Act i. Sc. 3.

To thee, and gentle Rigdum Funnidos, Our gratulations flow in streams unbounded.

Act ii. Sc. 4.

Go call a coach, and let a coach be called, And let the man who calleth be the caller; And in his calling let him nothing call But Coach! Coach! Coach! O for a coach, ye gods!

ISAAC WATTS. 1674-1748.

DIVINE SONGS.

To God the Father, God the Son, And God the Spirit, three in one, Be honor, praise, and glory given, By all on earth, and all in heaven.

* * * * *

Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber Holy angels guard thy bed! Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.

* * * * *

Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight. For 'tis their nature too.

* * * * *

How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day, From every opening flower.

* * * * *

Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound. 'Tis the voice of the sluggard, I heard him complain, "You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again."

SIR SAMUEL TUKE. --1673.

_Adventures of Five Hours_. Act v. Sc. 3.

He is a fool who thinks by force or skill To turn the current of a woman's will.

* * * * *

AARON HILL 1685-1750.

_Epilogue to Zara_.

First, then, a woman will, or won't--depend on 't; If she will do 't, she will; and there's an end on 't. But, if she won't, since safe and sound your trust is, Fear is affront: and jealousy injustice.[17]

* * * * *

_Verses Written on a Window in Scotland_.

Tender-handed stroke a nettle, And it stings you for your pains; Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains.

[Note 17: The following lines are copied from the pillar erected on the mount in the Dane John Field, Canterbury: "Where is the man who has the power and skill To stem the torrent of a woman's will? For if she will, she will, you may depend on 't; And if she won't, she won't; so there's an end on't."]

'Tis the same with common natures: Use 'em kindly, they rebel; But be rough as nutmeg-graters, And the rogues obey you well.

* * * * *

RICHARD SAVAGE. 1698-1743.

_The Bastard_. Line 7.

He lives to build, not boast a generous race: No tenth transmitter of a foolish face.

* * * * *

JAMES THOMSON. 1700-1748. THE SEASONS.

_Spring_. Line 283.

Base envy withers at another's joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach.

Line 465.

But who can paint Like Nature? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?

Line 1149.

Delightful task! to rear the tender thought,-- To teach the young idea how to shoot,--

Line 1158.

An elegant sufficiency, content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books. Ease and alternate labor, useful life, Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven!

* * * * *

_Summer_. Line 1188.

Sighed and looked unutterable things.

Line 1285.

A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate Of mighty monarchs.

Line 1346.

So stands the statue that enchants the world.

* * * * *

_Autumn_. Line 204.

Loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is when unadorned, adorned the most.

Line 283.

For still the world prevailed, and its dread laugh, Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn.

* * * * *

_Winter_. Line 393.

Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave.

* * * * *

_Hymn_. Line 25.

Shade, unperceived, so softening into shade.

Line 114.

From seeming evil still educing good.

Line 118.

Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise.

* * * * *

_Castle of Indolence_. Canto i. St. 69.

A little round, fat, oily man of God.

* * * * *

_Alfred_. Act ii. Sc. 5.

Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves; Britons never will be slaves.

* * * * *

_Song, "Forever, Fortune."_

Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to love; And, when we meet a mutual heart, Step rudely in, and bid us part?

* * * * *

_Sophonisba_. Act iii. Sc. 2.

O Sophonisba! Sophonisba, O![18]

[Note 18: This line was altered, after the second edition, to "O Sophonisba! I am wholly thine."]

* * * * *

JOHN DYER. 1700-1758.

_Grongar Hill_. Line 163.

Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view.

Line 123.

As yon summits soft and fair, Clad in colors of the air, Which to those who journey near Barren, brown, and rough appear.

* * * * *

PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 1702-1751.

_Epigram on his Family Arms_.

Live while you live, the epicure would say, And seize the pleasures of the present day; Live while you live, the sacred preacher cries, And give to God each moment as it flies. Lord, in my views let both united be; I live in pleasure, when I live to thee.

* * * * *

ROBERT DODSLEY 1703-1764.

_The Parting Kiss_.

One kind kiss before we part, Drop a tear and bid adieu; Though we sever, my fond heart Till we meet shall pant for you.

* * * * *

SAMUEL JOHNSON. 1709-1784.

_Prologue on the Opening of Drury Lane Theatre_.

Each exchange of many-colored life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new, And panting time toiled after him in vain.

* * * * *

For we that live to please must please to live.

* * * * *

_Vanity of Human Wishes_.

Line 1.

Let observation with extensive view Survey mankind, from China to Peru.[19]

[Note 19: The Universal Love of Pleasure, line 1: "All human race, from China to Peru, Pleasure, however disguised by art, pursue." _Rev. Thos. Warton_.]

Line 159.

There mark what ills the scholar's life assail-- Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.

Line 221.

He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.

Line 257.

Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know That life protracted is protracted woe.

Line 306.

Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage.

Line 318.

And Swift expires, a driveller and a show.

Line 346.

Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate.

_London_. Line 166.

Of all the griefs that harass the distressed, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.

Line 176.

This mournful truth is everywhere confessed, Slow rises worth by poverty depressed.

* * * * *

_Lines added to Goldsmith's Traveller_.

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.

* * * * *

_Line added to Goldsmith's Deserted Village_.

Trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay.

* * * * *

_From Dr. Madden's_ "_Boulter's Monument_."

_Supposed to have been inserted by Dr. Johnson_. 1745.

Words are men's daughters, but God's sons are things.

_Basselas_. Chapter i.

Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope; who expect that age will perform the promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be supplied by the morrow; attend to the history of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia.

* * * * *

_Epitaph on Robert Levett_.

In Misery's darkest cavern known, His useful care was ever nigh, Where hopeless Anguish poured his groan, And lonely Want retired to die.

* * * * *

_Epitaph on Claudius Phillips, the Musician_.

Phillips, whose touch harmonious could remove The pangs of guilty power or hapless love; Rest here, distressed by poverty no more, Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before; Sleep, undisturbed, within this peaceful shrine, Till angels wake thee with a note like thine.

* * * * *

LORD LYTTELTON 1709-1773.

_Prologue to Thomson's Coriolanus_.

For 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.

_Epigram_.

None without hope e'er loved the brightest fair, But love can hope where reason would despair.

* * * * *

_Soliloquy on a Beauty in the Country_.

Where none admire, 'tis useless to excel; Where none are beaux, 'tis vain to be a belle.

* * * * *

_Song_.

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

* * * * *

EDWARD MOORE. 1712-1757.

_Fable IX. The Farmer, the Spaniel, and the Cat_.

Can't I another's face commend, And to her virtues be a friend, But instantly your forehead lowers, As if _her_ merit lessened _yours_?

_Fable X. The Spider and the Bee_.

The maid who modestly conceals Her beauties, while she hides, reveals; Give but a glimpse, and fancy draws Whate'er the Grecian Venus was.

* * * * *

But from the hoop's bewitching round, Her very shoe has power to wound.

* * * * *

_The Happy Marriage_.

Time still, as he flies, adds increase to her truth, And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.

* * * * *

_The Gamester_. Act iii. Sc. 4.

'Tis now the summer of your youth: time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.

* * * * *

WILLIAM SHENSTONE. 1714-1763.

_Written on the Window of an Inn_.

Whoe'er has traveled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found His warmest welcome at an inn.

_Jemmy Dawson_.

For seldom shall you hear a tale So sad, so tender, and so true.

* * * * *

_The Schoolmistress_.

Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, Emblems right meet of decency does yield.

* * * * *

JOHN BROWN. 1715-1766.

_Barbarossa_. Act. v. Sc. 3.

Now let us thank the Eternal Power: convinced 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.

* * * * *

DAVID GARRICK. 1716-1779.

_Prologue on Quitting the Stage in 1776, 10th of June_.

Their cause I plead--plead it in heart and mind; A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind.

_On the Death of Mr. Pelham_.

Let others hail the rising sun: I bow to that whose race is run.

* * * * *

THOMAS GRAY. 1716-1771.

_On a Distant Prospect of Eton College_.

Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood strayed, A stranger yet to pain!

* * * * *

Alas! regardless of their doom, The little victims play; No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond to-day.

* * * * *

No more: where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

* * * * *

_Progress of Poesy_.

O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love.

* * * * *

Ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears. Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

* * * * *

_The Bard_.

Give ample room, and verge enough.

* * * * *

Youth at the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.

* * * * *

_Elegy in a Country Churchyard_.

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

* * * * *

The short and simple annals of the poor.

* * * * *

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

* * * * *

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

* * * * *

Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

* * * * *

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

* * * * *

Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest.

And read their history in a nation's eyes.

* * * * *

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.

* * * * *

Along the cool, sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

* * * * *

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

* * * * *

And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.

* * * * *

Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind.

* * * * *

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes, live their wonted fires.

* * * * *

A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown.

* * * * *

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere.

* * * * *

He gave to misery (all he had) a tear.

* * * * *

The bosom of his Father and his God.

_Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude_.

The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.

* * * * *

WILLIAM COLLINS. 1720-1756.

_Ode in 1746_.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blessed!

* * * * *

By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there.

* * * * *

_The Passions_. Line 1.

When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung.

Line 10.

Filled with fury, rapt, inspired.

Line 28.

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.

Line 60.

In notes by distance made more sweet.

Line 68.

In hollow murmurs died away.

Line 95.

O Music! sphere-descended maid, Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid!

* * * * *

_Eclogue_ 1. Line 5.

Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell; 'Tis virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.

* * * * *

_Ode on the Death of Thomson_.

In yonder grave a Druid lies.

* * * * *

MARK AKENSIDE. 1721-1770.

_Epistle to Curio_.

The man forget not, though in rags he lies, And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.

* * * * *

NATHANIEL COTTON. 1721-1788.

_The Fireside_. St. 3.

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.

St. 13.

Thus hand in hand through life we'll go; Its checkered paths of joy and woe With cautious steps we'll tread.

* * * * *

JOHN HOME. 1722-1808.

_Douglas_. Act i. Sc. 1.

In the first days Of my distracting grief, I found myself As women wish to be who love their lords.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

My name is Norval; on the Grampian hills My father fed his flocks.

* * * * *

OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 1728-1774.

THE TRAVELLER.

Line 1.

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow.

Line 7.

Where er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee.

Line 22.

And learn the luxury of doing good.

Line 26.

Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view.

Line 77.

Such is the patriot's boast, where er we roam, His first, best country ever is at home.

Line 153.

By sports like these are all his cares beguiled, The sports of children satisfy the child.

Line 172.

But winter lingering chills the lap of May.

Line 217.

So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar. But bind him to his native mountains more.

Line 251.

Alike all ages: dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze; And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore, Has frisked beneath the burden of threescore.

Line 327.

Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by.

Line 372.

For just experience tells, in every soil, That those that think must govern those that toil.

Line 386.

Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.

Line 409.

Forced from their homes, a melancholy train.

* * * * *

THE DESERTED VILLAGE.

Line 14.

For talking age and whispering lovers made.

Line 51.

Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay, Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade, A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.

Line 62.

And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

Line 100.

A youth of labor with an age of ease.

Line 110.

While resignation gently slopes the way-- And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences ere the world be past!

Line 122.

And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.

Line 141.

A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year.

Line 158.

Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.

Line 161.

Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.

Line 164.

And even his failings leaned to virtue's side.

Line 170.

Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.

Line 180.

And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.

Line 184.

And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.

Line 192.

Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Line 196.

The village master taught his little school.

Line 203.

Full well the busy whisper, circling round, Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.

Line 212.

For even though vanquished, he could argue still; While words of learned length and thundering sound Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew That one small head could carry all he knew.

Line 229.

Contrived a double debt to pay.

Line 254.

One native charm than all the gloss of art.

Line 264.

The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy.

Line 329.

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.

Line 385.

O Luxury! thou cursed by Heaven's decree.

* * * * *

RETALIATION.

Line 24.

Who mixed reason with pleasure and wisdom with mirth.

Line 31.

Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.

Line 37.

Though equal to all things, for all things unfit.

Line 94.

An abridgement of all that was pleasant in man.

* * * * *

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

Chapter viii. _The Hermit_.

Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.

* * * * *

Chapter xvii. _Elegy on a Mad Dog_.

The roan recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died.

* * * * *

Chapter xxiv.

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, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, is--to die.

_Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaise_.

The king himself has followed her When she has walked before.

* * * * *

TOBIAS SMOLLETT. 1721-1771.

_Ode to Independence_.

Thy spirit, Independence, let me share; Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye, Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.

* * * * *

THOMAS PERCY. 1728-1811.

_Reliques of English Poetry. The Baffled Knight_.

He that wold not when he might, He shall not when he wolda.

* * * * *

_The Friar of Orders Gray_.

Weep no more, lady, weep no more, Thy sorrow is in vain; For violets plucked the sweetest showers Will ne'er make grow again. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot on sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never.

_From Byrd's Psalmes, Sonets, &c_. 1588.

My mind to me a kingdom is; Such perfect joy therein I find, As far exceeds all earthly bliss That God and Nature hath assigned. Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

* * * * *

BEILBY PORTEUS. 1731-1808.

_Death, a Poem_. Line 154.

One murder makes a villain, Millions a hero.

* * * * *

JAMES BEATTIE. 1735-1766.

_The Minstrel_. Book i. St. 1.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar?

* * * * *

_The Hermit_. Line 8. He thought as a sage, but he felt as a man.

* * * * *

_Epigram_. _The Bucks had dined_.

How hard their lot who neither won nor lost.

CHARLES CHURCHILL. 1741-1764.

_The Rosciad_. Line 861.

But spite of all the criticising elves, Those who would make us feel--must feel themselves.

* * * * *

MRS. THEALE. 1740-1822.

_Three Warnings_.

The tree of deepest root is found Least willing still to quit the ground; 'Twas therefore said, by ancient sages, That love of life increased with years So much, that in our latter stages, When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages, The greatest love of life appears.

* * * * *

WILLIAM COWPER. 1731-1800.

THE TASK.

Book i. _The Sofa_.

God made the county, and man made the town.[20]

[Note 20: "God the first garden made, and the first city Cain."--Cowley]

Book ii. _The Timepiece_.

O for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumor of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never roach me more.

* * * * *

Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else, Like kindred drops, been mingled into one.

* * * * *

England, with all thy faults, I love thee still.

* * * * *

Praise enough To fill the ambition of a private man, That Chatham's language was his mother tongue.

* * * * *

There is a pleasure in poetic pains Which only poets know.

* * * * *

Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.

* * * * *

Book iii. _The Garden_.

Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss Of Paradise that hast survived the fall!

How various his employments whom the world jails idle; and who justly in return Esteems that busy world an idler too!

* * * * *

Book iv. _Winter Evening_.

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.

* * * * *

'Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd.

* * * * *

Book v. _Winter Morn in a Walk_.

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free.

* * * * *

Book vi. _Winter Walk at Noon_.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds; And as the mind is pitched, the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touched within us, and the heart replies.

* * * * *

Here the heart May give a useful lesson to the head, And Learning wiser grow without his books.

_Tirocinium_.

Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre, he that runs may read.

* * * * *

_Retirement_.

Built God a church, and laughed His word to scorn.

* * * * *

How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whisper, Solitude is sweet.

* * * * *

_Conversation_.

A fool must now and then be right, by chance.

* * * * *

_John Gilpin_.

That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind.

* * * * *

To dash through thick and thin.

* * * * *

A hat not much the worse for wear

* * * * *

_Lines to his Mother's Picture_.

O that those lips had language! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last.

_Walking with God_.

What peaceful hours I once enjoyed? How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void, The world can never fill.

* * * * *

VERSES, _Supposed to be Written by Alexander Selkirk_.

I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute.

* * * * *

O Solitude! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face?

* * * * *

But the sound of the church-going bell Those valleys and rocks never heard, Never sighed at the sound of a knell, Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared.

* * * * *

How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light.

* * * * *

W. J. MICKLE. 1734-1788.

_The Mariner's Wife_.

His very foot has music in 't As he comes up the stairs.

JOHN LANGHORNE. 1735-1779.

_The Country Justice_.

Part i

Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew; The big drops, mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the sad presage of his future years, The child of misery, baptized in tears.

* * * * *

DR. WALCOTT. 1738-1819.

_Peter Pindar's Expostulatory Odes to a great Duke and a little Lord_. _Ode XV_.

Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt, And every grin, so merry, draws one out.

* * * * *

MRS. BARBAULD. 1743-1825.

_Warrington Academy_.

Man is the noblest growth our realms supply, And souls are ripened in our northern sky.

* * * * *

SIR WILLIAM JONES. 1746-1794.

_A Persian Song of Hafiz_.

Go boldly forth, my simple lay, Whose accents flow with artless ease, Like orient pearls at random strung.

* * * * *

_Ode in Imitation of Alcoeus_.

What constitutes a state?

* * * * *

Men who their duties know, But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain.

* * * * *

And sovereign law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate, Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.

* * * * *

Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven, Ten to the world allot, and all to heaven.[21]

[Note 21: "Six hours in sleep, in law's grave study six, Four spend in prayer, the rest on nature fix."--_Sir Edward Coke_.]

* * * * *

CAPTAIN CHARLES MORRIS. --1832.

_Billy Pitt and the Farmer_.

Solid men of Boston, make no long orations; Solid men of Boston, drink no deep potations.

* * * * *

JOHN TRUMBULL. 1750-1881.

_McFingal_. Canto i. Line 67.

But optics sharp it needs, I ween, To see what is not to be seen.

Canto iii. Line 489.

No man e'er felt the halter draw, With good opinion of the law.

* * * * *

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 1751-1816.

_The Rivals_. Act v. Sc. 3.

As headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile.

* * * * *

_The Critic_. Act ii. Sc. 1.

My valor is certainly going! it is sneaking off! I feel it oozing out as it were at the pain, of my hands.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Where they do agree, their unanimity is wonderful.

* * * * *

_School for Scandal_. Act i. Sc. 1.

You shall see a beautiful quarto page, where a neat rivulet of text shall meander through a meadow of margin.

Act iii. Sc. 3.

Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen; Here's to the widow of fifty; Here's to the flaunting, extravagant quean, And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. Let the toast pass; Drink to the lass; I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

_The Duenna_. Act i. Sc. 2.

I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip.

* * * * *

_Speech in Reply to Mr. Dundas_.

The Right Honorable gentleman is indebted to his memory for his jests and to his imagination for his facts.

* * * * *

GEORGE CRABBE. 1754-1832.

_Parish Register_.

Oh! rather give me commentators plain, Who with no deep researches vex the brain, Who from the dark and doubtful love to run, And hold their glimmering taper to the sun.

_The Borough Schools_.

Books cannot always please, however good; Minds are not ever craving for their food.

* * * * *

_The Borough Placers_.

In this fool's paradise lie drank delight.

* * * * *

_The Birth of Flattery_.

In idle wishes fools supinely stay; Be there a will, then wisdom finds a way.

* * * * *

ROBERT BURNS. 1759-1796.

_Tom O'Shanter_.

Where sits our sulky, sullen dame, Gather in' her brows like gatherin' storm, Nursin' her wrath to keep it warm.

* * * * *

Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.

* * * * *

But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white, then melts for ever. As Tammie gloured, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.

_To a Mouse_.

The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley; An' lea'e us naught but grief and pain For promised joy.

* * * * *

_Scots wha hae_.

Let us do, or die!

* * * * *

_Address to the Unco Guid_.

Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler, sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang To step aside is human.

* * * * *

_On Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland_.

If there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede you tent it; A chiel's amang you takin' notes, An', faith, he'll prent it.

_To a Louse_.

O wad some power the giftie gie us, To see oursel's as others see us! It wad frae monie a blunder free us, An' foolish notion.

* * * * *

_Epistle to a Young Friend_.

The fear o' hell 's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honor grip, Let that aye be your border.

* * * * *

_The Twa Dogs_.

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar Shawed him the gentleman and scholar.

* * * * *

_Epistle to James Smith_.

O Life! how pleasant in thy morning, Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning! Cold, pausing Caution's lesson scorning, We frisk away, Like schoolboys at th' expected warning. To joy and play.

* * * * *

_Despondency_.

O Life! them art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I!

_Auld Lang Syne_.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne?

* * * * *

_Green grow the Rashes_.

Her 'prentice han' she tried on man. And then she made the lasses, O!

* * * * *

_Man was made to Mourn_.

Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn.

* * * * *

_Death and Dr. Hornbook_.

Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

* * * * *

_Is there for honest Poverty_.

The _rank_ is but the guinea's _stamp_.

The man's the gowd for a' that.

* * * * *

A prince can mak' a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a that: But an honest man's aboon his might, Guid faith, he maunna fa' that.

_The Cotter's Saturday Night_.

He wales a portion with judicious care; And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.

* * * * *

THOMAS MOSS. --1808.

_The Beggar_.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span; Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.

* * * * *

GEORGE COLMAN. 1762-1836.

BROAD GRINS.

_The Maid of the Moor_.

And what's impossible can't be, And never, never comes to pass.

* * * * *

Three stories high, long, dull, and old, As great lord's stories often are.

* * * * *

_Lodgings for Single Gentlemen_.

But when ill indeed, E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed.

_The Poor Gentleman_.

Act i. Sc. 2.

Thank you, good sir, I owe you one.

* * * * *

_Prologue to the Heir ft Law_.

On their own merits modest men are dumb.

* * * * *

THOMAS MORTON. 1764-1836.

_Speed the Plough_. Act i. Sc. 1.

What will Mrs. Grundy say?

* * * * *

GEORGE CANNING. 1770-1827.

POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.

_The Needy Knife-Grinder_.

Story! God bless you, I have none to tell, sir!

* * * * *

I give thee sixpence! I will see thee d--d first.

* * * * *

_The Loves of the Triangles_.

Line 178.

So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourne, glides The Derby dilly, carrying three insides.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 1770-1850.

_Quilt and Sorrow_.

St. 41.

And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.

* * * * *

_My Heart Leaps up_.

The Child is father of the Man.

* * * * *

_Lucy Gray_.

St. 2.

The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door.

* * * * *

_We are Seven_.

A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death?

* * * * *

_The Pet Lamb_.

Drink, pretty creature, drink.

* * * * *

_The Brothers_.

Until a man might travel twelve stout miles, Or reap an acre of his neighbor's corn.

_Stanzas written in Thomson_.

A noticeable man, with large gray eyes.

* * * * *

_Lucy_.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise, And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and oh! The difference to me!

* * * * *

_The Solitary Reaper_.

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again.

* * * * *

The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

_Rob Hoy's Grave_.

St. 9.

Because the good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.

_Yarrow Unvisited_.

The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!

* * * * *

_Sonnets to National Independence and Liberty_.

Part i. vi

Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great is passed away.

Part i. xiv.

Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart.

Part i. xvi.

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.

* * * * *

_Nutting_.

One of those heavenly days that cannot die.

_She was a Phantom of Delight_.

A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles; Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

* * * * *

A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command.

* * * * *

_I Wandered Lonely_.

That inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude.

* * * * *

_Ruth_.

A Youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.

* * * * *

_Resolution and Independence_.

Part i. St. 7

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride; Of him who walked in glory and in joy, Following his plough, along the mountainside.

* * * * *

_Hart-Leap Well_.

Part ii

"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old! But something ails it now: the spot is cursed." Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

* * * * *

_Tintern Abbey_.

Sensations sweet Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.

* * * * *

That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love.

* * * * *

That blessed mood, In which the burden of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened.

* * * * *

The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.

* * * * *

The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colors and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm By thoughts supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye. But hearing often-times The still, sad music of humanity.

* * * * *

_To a Skylark_.

Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home.

* * * * *

_Peter Bell_.

Prologue. St. 1.

There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.

Prologue. St. 27.

The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me--her tears, her mirths Her humblest mirth and tears.

Part i. St. 12.

A primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.

Part i. St. 15.

The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!

Part i. St. 26.

As if the man had fixed his face, In many a solitary place, Against the wind and open sky!

_Miscellaneous Sonnets_.

Part i. xxx.

The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration.

Part i. xxxiii.

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

Part i. xxxv.

'Tis hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of Faith, and round the Sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.

Part ii. xxxvi.

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

* * * * *

_Ecclesiastical Sonnets_.

Part iii. v. _Walton's Book of Lives_.

The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing.

* * * * *

Meek Walton's heavenly memory.

_The Tables Turned_.

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books, Or surely you'll grow double: Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble?

* * * * *

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.

* * * * *

_A Poet's Epitaph_.

St. 5.

One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.

* * * * *

_Personal Talk_.

St. 3.

The gentle Lady married to the Moor, And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb.

* * * * *

_The Small Celandine_. (From Poems referring to the Period of Old Age.)

To be a Prodigal's Favorite--then, worse truth, A Miser's Pensioner--behold our lot!

_Elegiac Stanzas suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm_.

St. 4.

The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

* * * * *

_Intimations of Immorality_.

St 5.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.

* * * * *

But trailing clouds of glory, do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!

St. xi.

To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

* * * * *

THE EXCURSION.

Book i.

The vision and the faculty divine.

* * * * *

The imperfect offices of prayer and praise.

* * * * *

The good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket.

Book ii.

With battlements, that on their restless fronts Bore stars.

Book iii.

Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.

* * * * *

Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.

Book iv.

I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.

* * * * *

One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.

Book vi.

Spires whose silent fingers point to heaven.

Book vii.

Wisdom married to immortal verse.

Book ix.

The primal duties shine aloft, like stars, The charities, that soothe, and heal, and bless, Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers.

* * * * *

HON. WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER. 1770-1834.

_Lines to Lady A. Hamilton_.

Too late I stayed--forgive the crime; Unheeded flew the hours. How noiseless falls the foot of time, That only treads on flowers!

* * * * *

DR. GEORGE SEWELL. --1726.

When all the blandishments of life are gone, The coward sneaks to death, the brave live on.

* * * * *

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 1772-1834

_The Ancient Mariner_.

Part i.

And listens like a three years' child.

Part ii.

We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea. As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.

* * * * *

Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink.

Part iv.

Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea.

Part v.

A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy mouth of June.

Part vii.

He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast.

* * * * *

He prayeth best, who loveth best All things, both great and small.

* * * * *

A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn.

* * * * *

_Christabel_. Part ii.

Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth: And constancy lives in realms above.

_The Devil's Thoughts_.

And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin, Is pride that apes humility.

* * * * *

_Love_.

All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feeds his sacred flame.

* * * * *

_Reflections on having left a Place of Retirement_.

Blest hour! it was a luxury--to be!

* * * * *

_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni_.

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star In his steep course?

* * * * *

Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines.

* * * * *

Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!

* * * * *

Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.

* * * * *

_The Three Graves_.

A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive.

_The Visit of the Gods_.

Never, believe me, Appear the Immortals, Never alone.

* * * * *

_The Knight's Tomb_.

The Knight's bones are dust, And his good sword rust; His soul is with the saints, I trust.

* * * * *

_On Taking Leave of_--. 1817. To know, to esteem, to love--and then to part, Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart!

* * * * *

_Cologne_.

The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, nymphs! what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?

* * * * *

_Wallenstein_.

Part i. Act ii. Sc. 4.

The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and watery depths; all these have vanished; They live no longer in the faith of reason.

* * * * *

_The Death of Wallenstein_.

Act. v. Sc. 1.

Clothing the palpable and familiar With golden exhalations of the dawn.

Act v. Sc. 1.

Often do the spirits Of great events stride on before the events. And in to-day already walks to-morrow.

* * * * *

ROBERT SOUTHEY. 1774-1843.

_Curse of Kehama_. Canto x.

They sin who tell us love can die. With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity.

* * * * *

CHARLES LAMB. 1775-1834.

_Old Familiar Faces_.

I have had playmates, 1 have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

_Detached Thoughts on Books_.

Books which are no books.

* * * * *

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 1777-1844.

_Pleasures of Hope_.

Part i. Line 7.

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

Line 359.

O Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save.

Line 381.

Hope for a season bade the world farewell, And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell!

* * * * *

O'er Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below.

Part ii. Line 5.

Who hath not owned, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name?

Line 23.

Without the smile from partial beauty won, Of what were man?--a world without a sun.

Line 37.

The world was sad!--the garden was a wild! And man, the hermit, sighed--till woman smiled.

Line 45.

While Memory watches o'er the sad review Of joys that faded like the morning dew.

Line 95.

There shall he love, when genial mom appears, Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.

Line 194.

That gems the starry girdle of the year.

Line 263.

Melt, and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!

Line 325.

O star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there, To waft us home the message of despair?

Line 377.

What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel-visits, few and far between.

_O'Connor's Child_.

Another's sword has laid him low, Another's and another's; And every hand that dealt the blow, Ah me! it was a brother's!

_Lochiel's Warning_.

'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.

_Ye Mariners of England_.

Ye mariners of England! That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze.

* * * * *

Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.

* * * * *

_The Soldier's Dream_.

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young. But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

* * * * *

_Hohenlinden_.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave!

_Gertrude of Wyoming_.

Part iii. St. 1.

O love! in such a wilderness as this.

* * * * *

WALTER SCOTT. 1771-1832.

THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.

Canto ii. St. 1.

If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight.

Canto ii. St. 12.

I was not always a man of woe.

Canto ii. St. 22.

I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me.

Canto iii. St. 2.

Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

Canto v. St. 1.

Call it not vain; they do not err, Who say, that, when the poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshiper, And celebrates his obsequies.

Canto v. St. 13.

True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven. It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.

Canto vi. St. 1.

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned Prom wandering on a foreign strand?

* * * * *

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

Canto vi. St. 2.

O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood; Land of the mountain and the flood.

* * * * *

_Marmion_.

Canto ii. St. 27.

'Tis an old tale, and often told.

Canto v. St. 12.

With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.

Canto vi. St. 14.

And dar'st thou then To beard the lion in his den?

Canto vi. St. 30,

O woman! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made, When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!

Canto vi. St. 32.

Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on! Were the last words of Marmion.

Canto vi. Last Lines.

To all, to each, a fair good night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light,

* * * * *

_The Lady of the Lake_.

Canto i. St. 18.

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A nymph, a naiad, or a grace, Of finer form or lovelier face.

* * * * *

A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew.

Canto i. St. 21.

On his bold visage middle age Had slightly pressed its signet sage.

Canto ii. St. 22.

Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.

Canto iv. St. 1.

The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.

Canto iv. St. 30.

Art thou a friend to Roderick?

Canto v. St. 10.

Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.

* * * * *

And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.

* * * * *

_The Lord of the Isles_.

Canto v. Stanza 18.

O many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark, the archer little meant! And many a word at random spoken May soothe, or wound, a heart that's broken!

* * * * *

_Old Mortality_.

Vol. ii. Chapter xxi.

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.

_Bob Roy_.

Vol. i. Chapter ii.

O for the voice of that wild horn On Fontarabian echoes borne.

* * * * *

_The Monastery_.

Vol. i. Chapter ii.

Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!

* * * * *

THOMAS MOORE. 1780-1852.

_Lalla Rookh_. _The Fire-Worshippers_.

O, ever thus from childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away.

* * * * *

_The Light of the Harem_.

Alas! how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love! Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied; That stood the storm when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea, When heaven was all tranquillity.

_All that's bright must fade_.

All that's bright must fade-- The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.

* * * * *

_Farewell! But whenever you welcome the hour_.

You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

* * * * *

REGINALD HEBER. 1783-1826.

_Christman Hymn_.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.

* * * * *

_Missionary Hymn_.

From Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand, Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand.

* * * * *

_Palestine_.

No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung; Like some tall palm, the mystic fabric sprung. Majestic silence!

JONATHAN M. SEWALL.

_Epilogue to Cato_.

_Written for the Bow Street Theatre, Portsmouth_, N. H., 1778.

No pent-up Utica contracts your powers, But the whole boundless continent is yours.

* * * * *

SAMUEL WOODWORTH. 1785-1842.

The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.

* * * * *

LORD BYRON. 1788-1821.

_Childe Harold_.

Canto i. St. 9.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.

Canto ii. St. 2.

A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!

* * * * *

Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.

Stanza 6.

The dome of Thought, the palace of the soul.

Stanza 23.

Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy?

Stanza 73.

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!

Stanza 76.

Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not, Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow?

Stanza 88.

Where'er we tread, 'tis haunted, holy ground.

* * * * *

Age shakes Athena's towers, but spares gray Marathon.

Canto iii. St. 1.

Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.

Stanza 21.

There was a sound of revelry by night. And all went merry as a marriage-bell.

Stanza 28.

Battle's magnificently stern array!

Stanza 55.

The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine.

Stanza 92.

The sky is changed! and such a change! O night, And storm, and darkness! ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman.

Stanza 113.

I have not loved the world, nor the world me.

Canto iv. St. 1.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs.

Stanza 24.

The cold--the changed--perchance the dead anew, The mourned--the loved--the lost--too many! yet how few!

Stanza 49.

Fills The air around with beauty.

Stanza 69.

The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss.

Stanza 79.

The Niobe of nations! there she stands.

Stanza 109.

Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.

Stanza 115.

The nympholepsy of some fond despair.

Stanza 145.

While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Home falls, the world.[22]

[Note 22: The exclamation of the pilgrims in the eighth century is recorded by the Venerable Bede]

Stanza 177.

O that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And, hating no one, love but only her!

Stanza 178.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes By the deep Sea, and music in its roar.

* * * * *

I love not Man the less, but Nature more.

Stanza 179.

Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined and unknown.

Stanza 185.

And what is writ, is writ. Would it were worthier!

_Memoranda from his Life_.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous.

* * * * *

_The Giaour_. Line 72.

Before decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.

Line 92.

So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there.

Line 106.

Shrine of the mighty! can it be That this is all remains of thee?

Line 123.

For freedom's battle, once begun, Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won.

Line 418.

And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own; And every won a tear can claim, Except an erring sister's shame.

* * * * *

_Parasina_. St. 1.

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 every whispered word.

_The Bride of Abydos_.

Canto i. St. 1.

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle.

Stanza 6.

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!

Canto ii. St. 20.

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life! The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!

* * * * *

He makes a solitude, and calls it--peace.[23]

[Note 23: "Solitudinem fociunt--pacem appellant." --_Tacitus, Agricola_, cap. 30.]

_Darkness_.

I had a dream which was not all a dream.

* * * * *

_Lara_.

Canto i. St. 2.

Lord of himself--that heritage of woe!

_The Corsair_.

Canto i. St. 1.

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea; Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home.

Stanza 3.

She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife.

Stanza 8.

The power of Thought--the magic of the Mind.

* * * * *

The many still must labor for the one!

Stanza 9.

There was a laughing devil in his sneer. Hope withering fled, and Mercy sighed Farewell!

Stanza 15.

Farewell! For in that word--that fatal word--howe'er We promise--hope--believe--there breathes despair.

Canto iii. St. 22.

No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.

Stanza 24.

He left a corsair's name to other times, Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.

* * * * *

_Beppo_.

Stanza 27.

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

Stanza 45.

Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.

Stanza 80.

O Mirth and Innocence! O Milk and Water! Ye happy mixtures of more happy days!

* * * * *

_The Dream_.

And both were young, and one was beautiful.

* * * * *

And to his eye There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

* * * * *

And they were canopied by the blue sky, so cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful, That God alone was to be seen in Heaven.

_The Waltz_.

Hands promiscuously applied, Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.

* * * * *

_English Bards_.

'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book's a book, although there's nothing in't.

* * * * *

As soon Seek roses in December--ice in June. Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff.

* * * * *

Believe a woman, or an epitaph, Or any other thing that's false, before You trust in critics.

* * * * *

Perverts the Prophets, and purloins the Psalms.

* * * * *

O Amos Cottle! Phoebus! what a name!

* * * * *

_Monody on the Death of Sheridan_.

When all of Genius which can perish dies.

* * * * *

Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.

* * * * *

Who track the steps of Glory to the grave.

Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, And broke the die in moulding Sheridan.

* * * * *

_Don Juan_.

Canto i. St. 22.

But, O ye lords of ladies intellectual! Inform us truly, have they not henpecked you all?

Canto i. St. 117.

Whispering I will ne'er consent, consented.

Canto xiii. St. 95.

Society is now one polished horde, Formed of two mighty tribes, the _Bores_ and _Bored_.

Canto xv. St. 13.

The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

* * * * *

_Hebrew Melodies_.

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

CHARLES WOLFE. 1791-1823.

_The Burial of Sir John Moore_.

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

* * * * *

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory!

* * * * *

JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. 1795-1820.

_The American flag_.

When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there.

* * * * *

JOHN KEATS. 1796-1820.

_Endymion_. Line 1.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever.

* * * * *

_St. Agnes' Eve_. Stanza 27.

Music's golden tongue Flattered to tears this aged man and poor.

* * * * *

_Hyperion_. Line 5.

That large utterance of the early gods.

* * * * *

ROBERT POLLOK. 1798-1827.

_The Course of Time_.

Book viii. Line 616.

He was a man Who stole the livery of the court of Heaven To serve the devil in.

* * * * *

THOMAS HOOD. 1798-1845.

_The Death-Bed_.

We watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro.

* * * * *

Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.

* * * * *

_The Bridge of Sighs_.

One more Unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death.

Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashioned so slenderly Young, and so fair!

* * * * *

SAMUEL ROGERS.

_Human Life_.

A guardian-angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.

* * * * *

The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the master's spell; And feeling hearts--touch them but rightly--pour A thousand melodies unheard before! Then, never less alone than when alone, Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves--not dead, but gone before-- He gathers round him.

* * * * *

_A Wish_.

Mine be a cot beside the hill; A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near.

RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES.

_Tragedy of the Lac de Gaube_.

Stanza 2.

But on and up, where Nature's heart Beats strong amid the hills.

* * * * *

_The Men of Old_.

Great thoughts, great feelings, came to them, Like instincts, unawares.

* * * * *

A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet.

* * * * *

BRYAN W. PROCTOR.

_The Sea_.

The sea! the sea! the open sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free!

* * * * *

I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more.

* * * * *

ALFRED TENNYSON.

_Locksley Hall_.

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.

I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.

* * * * *

Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.

* * * * *

_In Memoriam_. xxvii.

'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.

* * * * *

_Fatima_. St. 3.

O Love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

* * * * *

_The Princess_. Canto iv.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.