Chapter C: F. Hoffman

WHAT IS THE CHARACTER OF HIM WHO LOVES YOU?

Something that may serve to set in view
The doings, observations which his mind
Had dealt with--I will here record in verse.

WORDSWORTH.

WHAT IS THE CHARACTER OF HIM WHO LOVES YOU?

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

POPE.

2. He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you;
and he's a man good enough; he's one of the
soundest judgments, and a proper man of person.

_Troilus and Cressida._

3. Love, fame, and glory, with alternate sway
Thrill his warm heart, and with electric ray
Illume his eye; yet still a shade of care,
Like a light cloud that floats in summer air,
Will shed at times a transitory gloom,
But shadow not one grace of manly bloom.

MRS. K. WARE.

4. He wounds no breast with jeer and jest, yet bears no honey'd
tongue,
He's social with the gray-hair'd one, and merry with the young.

ELIZA COOK.

5. A shallow brain behind a serious mask,
An oracle within an empty cask;
He says but little, and that little said
Owes all its weight, like loaded dice, to lead.

COWPER--_Conversation._

6. Fearless he is, and scorning all disguise;
What he dares do, or think, though men may start,
He speaks with mild, yet unaverted eyes.

SHELLEY.

7. A lofty spirit his, and somewhat proud;
Little gallant, and has a sort of cloud
Hanging forever on his cold address.

LEIGH HUNT--_Rimini._

8. He writes brave verses, speaks brave words,
Swears brave oaths, and breaks them as bravely

_As You Like It._

9. In truth he is a strange and wayward wight,
Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene;
In darkness and in storm he finds delight,
Nor less than when on ocean's wave serene
The southern sun displays his dazzling sheen.

BEATTIE--_Minstrel._

10. There is in him so much man, so much goodness,
So much of honor, and of all things else
Which make our being excellent, that from his store
He can enough lend others.

MASSINGER.

11. He draweth out the staple of his verbosity finer than the staple
of his argument.

_Love's Labour Lost._

12. His words are strong, but not with anger fraught,
A lore benignant he hath lived and taught;
To draw mankind to heaven by gentleness
And good example is his business.

CHAUCER.

13. The monarch-mind, the mystery of commanding,
The god-like power, the art Napoleon
Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, banding
The hearts of millions, till they move as one.

HALLECK.

14. Devout, yet cheerful; pious, not austere;
To others lenient, to himself severe.

DR. HARVEY.

15. With scrupulous care exact, he walks the rounds
Of fashionable duty; laughs when sad,
When merry weeps, deceiving is deceived,
And flattering, flatter'd.

POLLOK.

16. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.

_Hamlet._

17. Erect, morose, determined, solemn, slow;
Who knows the man can never cease to know.

CRABBE.

18. Rare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun,
To relish a joke, and rejoice in a pun!

GOLDSMITH.

19. He is a man
Among a thousand. Unassuming, he
May yet assume unquestion'd. Gentleness,
And a strange strength, a calm o'erruling strength,
Are mix'd within him so, that neither take
Possession from the other,--neither rise
In mastery or passion, but both grow
Harmoniously together.

W. G. SIMMS.

20. For beauty and fortin' the laddie's been courtin',
Weel featured, weel tochered, weel mounted and braw!

BURNS.

21. He will pick a quarrel for a straw,
And fight it out to the extremity.

CHARLES LAMB.

22. He cannot flatter and speak fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and coy,
Duck with French nods, and apish courtesy.

_Richard III._

23. A primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose is to him,
And it is nothing more.

WORDSWORTH.

24. His young bosom feels the enchantment strong
Of light, and joy, and minstrelsy and song.

PIERPONT--_Airs of Palestine._

25. If he has any faults he leaves us in doubt,
At least in six weeks we can't find them out.

GOLDSMITH.

26. The friend of man, the friend of truth,
The friend of age, the guide of youth;
Few hearts like his with virtue warm'd,
Few heads with knowledge so inform'd.

BURNS.

27. If his body were opened, and you find so much
blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea,
I'll eat the rest of his anatomy.

_Two Gentlemen of Verona._

28. He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers,
You never can please him, do a' that you can;
He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows.

BURNS.

29. An ample soul,
Rockbound and fortified against assaults
Of transitory passion, but below
Built on a surging, subterraneous fire,
That stirs and lifts him up to high attempts.

TAYLOR.

30. His very manners teach to amend,
They are so even, grave and holy;
No stubbornness so stiff, nor folly
To license ever was so light,
As twice to trespass in his sight;
His look would so correct it when
It chid the vice, yet not the men.

BEN JONSON.

31. He thinks,
That he who fights and runs away
May live to fight another day.

BUTLER--_Hudibras._

32. He keeps his honesty and truth,
His independent tongue and pen,
And moves in manhood, as in youth,
Pride of his fellow-men.

HALLECK.

33. His life doth flow
From its mysterious urn a sacred stream,
In whose calm depth the beautiful and pure
Alone are mirror'd; which, though shapes of ill
May hover round its surface, glides in light,
And takes no shadow from them.

TALFOURD--_Ion._

34. He is too costly for every day,
You would want another for working days.

_Much Ado About Nothing._

35. Strange, that his nobly fashion'd mould,
In which a very god might dwell,
Should only live to dig for gold,
And perish in its narrow cell!

BOWRING.

36. He has no party rage, no sectary's whim;
Christian and countryman is all with him.

CRABBE.

37. Valiant he as fire,
Showing danger more than ire.
Bounteous as the clouds to earth,
And as honest as his birth;
All his actions they are such
As to do no thing too much;
Nor o'erpraise, nor yet condemn,
Nor outvalue, nor contemn,
Nor do wrongs nor wrongs receive,
Nor tie knots, nor knots unweave.
From all baseness to be free,
As he durst love truth and thee.

BEN JONSON.

38. He snuffs far off the anticipated joy,
Turtle and venison all his thoughts employ.

COWPER.

39. In his strength
The mighty oak has likeness; gentleness
In him is like the rosy parasite,
The flush Spring gives it wrapping it around
With sweetest color and adorning grace.
His soul, refined beyond the rustic world,
Has yet no city vices. He has kept
Its whiteness unprofaned.

W. G. SIMMS.

40. He'll never learn his bark to steer
'Mid passion's sudden, wild career,
Nor try at times to tack and veer
To interest's gale,
But hoist the sheet, unawed by fear
Though storms prevail.

HECTOR MACNEIL.

41. A fair example of his own pure creed,
Patient of error, pitiful to need,
Persuasive wisdom in his thoughtful mien.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

42. One of that stubborn sort he is,
Who if they once grow fond of an opinion,
They call it honor, honesty, and faith,
And sooner part with life than let it go.

ROWE--_Jane Shore._

43. Virtue's his path, but sometimes 'tis too narrow
For his vast soul, and then he starts wide out,
And bounds into a vice that bears him far
From his first course, and plunges him in ills.

DRYDEN--_All for Love._

44. A man whom storms can never make
Meanly complain, nor can a flattering gale
Make him talk proudly.

DR. WATTS.

45. He'll prattle shrewdly with such witty folly,
As almost betters reason.

JOHN HOWARD PAYNE.

46. Heed not, though at times he seem
Dark and still, and cold as clay;
He is shadow'd by his dream,
But 'twill pass away.

BARRY CORNWALL.

47. He quick is anger'd, and as quick
His short-lived passion's over-past,
Like summer lightnings, flashing thick,
But flying ere a bolt is cast.

E. D. GRIFFIN.

48. Oh, he's as tedious
As a tired horse, a railing wife,
Worse than a smoky house.

_Henry IV._

49. Love, the germ
Of his mild nature, hath spread graces forth,
Expanding with its progress; as the store
Of rainbow color, which the seed conceals,
Sheds out its tints from its dim treasury
To flush and circle in the flower.

TALFOURD--_Ion._

50. He is----but what need I say that or this,
I'd spend a month to tell ye what he is!

RAMSAY--_Gentle Shepherd._

51. With maids he's softer than the clouds in May;
But had you seen him, lady, in his ire,
When, like one born of thunder, he did march
And strike down men as stubble sinks in fire--
But then he hath a tongue could wile
The laverock from the cloud.

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

52. Within his soul
Springs up a deep sense of the beautiful,
The holy, the exalted, and a love
Embracing in its circle all creation.

LADY FLORA HASTINGS.

53. He so light is at legerdemain,
That what he touches comes not to light again.

SPENSER.

54. Though learn'd, well-bred; and though well-bred, sincere;
Modestly bold, and humanely severe.

POPE.

55. To express his mind to sense,
Would ask a heaven's intelligence,
Since nothing can report that flame
But what's of kin to whence it came.

BEN JONSON.

56. A little, upright, pert, tart, tripping wight,
That holds his precious self his dear delight,
And loves his own smart shadow in the street.

BURNS.

57. No caprice of mind,
No passing influence of idle time,
No popular show, no clamor from the crowd
Can move him, erring, from the path of right.

W. G. SIMMS.

58. Wasting his life for his country's care,
Laying it down with a patriot's prayer.

BARRY CORNWALL.

59. A man whose sober soul can tell
How to wear her garments well,
Her garments that upon her sit
As garments should do, close and fit;
A well-clothed soul, that's not oppress'd
Nor choked with what she should be dress'd;
A soul sheath'd in a crystal shrine,
Through which all her bright features shine.

CRASHAW.

60. And still we gaze, and still the wonder grows,
That one small head can carry all he knows.

GOLDSMITH--_Deserted Village_.

WHAT SEASON OF THE YEAR DO YOU LOVE?

January gray is here,
Like a sexton by a grave;
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps; but oh, ye hours,
Follow with May's fairest flowers.

SHELLEY.

The seasons of the year,
----some arm'd in silver ice that glisten,
And some in gaudy green, come in like masquers.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

WHAT SEASON OF THE YEAR DO YOU LOVE?

1. The bold _March_ wind!
The merry, boisterous, bold March wind!
Who in the violet's tender eyes
Casts a kiss,--and forward flies.

BARRY CORNWALL.

2. The beautiful spirit of _Spring_,
When the demons of Winter before her fly,
While the gentle fan of her delicate wing
Repels the ardor of Summer's eye.

JAMES NACK.

3. Thou lovest the merry _Summer_ months of beauty, song, and
flowers,
Thou lovest the gladsome months that bring thick leafiness to
bowers!
Up, up, thy heart, and walk abroad, fling cark and care aside,
Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful waters glide,
Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal tree,
Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt tranquillity.

MOTHERWELL.

4. The _eventide of Summer_, when the trees
Yield their fresh honors to the passing breeze,
And woodland paths with autumn tints are dyed;
When the mild sun his paling lustre shrouds
In gorgeous draperies of golden clouds.

MRS. E. C. EMBURY.

5. When on the breath of _Autumn_ breeze,
From pastures dry and brown,
Goes floating, like an idle thought,
The fair white thistle-down.

MARY HOWITT.

6. A day of _Winter_ beauty. Through the night
The hoar-frost gather'd o'er each leaf and spray,
Weaving its filmy net-work, thin and bright,
And shimmering like silver in the ray
Of the soft sunny morning;--turf and tree
Prank'd in delicate embroidery,
And every wither'd stump and mossy stone
With gems encrusted and with seed-pearls sown!

MRS. WHITMAN.

7. When _May_,
With her cap crown'd with roses,
Stands in her holiday dress in the fields, and the wind and the
brooklet
Murmur gladness and peace, God's peace! with lips rosy tinted,
Whisper the race of the flowers, and merry, on balancing branches,
Birds are singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to the Highest.

LONGFELLOW.

8. _Autumn eventide_;
When sinking on the blue hill's breast, the sun
Spreads the large bounty of his level blaze,
Lengthening the shade of mountains and tall trees.

GEORGE LUNT.

9. When on a keen _December_ night, Jack Frost
Drives through mid air his chariot icy-wheel'd,
And from the sky's crisp ceiling, star-emboss'd,
Whiffs off the clouds that the pure blue concealed.

TENNENT--_Anster Fair_.

10. When _Spring_, advancing, calls her feather'd quire,
And tunes to softer notes her laughing lyre;
Musk'd in the rose's lap fresh dews are shed,
And breathe celestial lustres round her head.

DARWIN.

11. _June_ with its roses,----June!
The gladdest month of the capricious year,
With its thick foliage, and its sunlight clear,
And with a drowsy tune
Of the bright leaping waters, as they pass
Laughingly on, amid the springing grass!

W. H. BURLEIGH.

12. When _Autumn_, like a faint old man, sits down
By the wayside, a-weary.

LONGFELLOW.

13. _Winter_, shod with fleecy snow,
Who cometh _white_, and _cold_, and _mute_,
Lest he should wake the Spring below.

BARRY CORNWALL.

14. When the south wind in _May_ days,
With a net of shining haze,
Silvers the horizon wall;
And with softness touching all,
Tints the human countenance
With a color of romance,
And infusing gentle heats,
Turns the sod to violets.

R. W. EMERSON.

15. When _Spring's_ unfolded blooms
Exhale in sweetness, that the skilful bee
May taste, at will, from their selected spoils,
To work her dulcet sweet.

AKENSIDE--_Pleasures of the Imagination_.

16. The joyous _Winter_ days,
When sits the soul intense, collected, cool,
Bright as the skies, and as the season keen.

THOMSON.

17. The _Spring_, as she passes along
With her eye of light, and her lip of song.

W. G. CLARK.

18. _October!_ Heaven's delicious breath,
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek sun grows brief,
And the year smiles, as drawing near its death.

W. C. BRYANT.

19. The _April_ rain! the _April_ rain!
To list the pleasant sound,
Now soft and still like gentle dew,
Now drenching all the ground.
Pray tell me why an April shower
Is pleasanter to see,
Than falling drops of other rain?
I'm sure it is to thee.

MRS. SEBA SMITH.

20. _Spring_, when from yon blue-topp'd mountain
She leaves her green print 'neath each spreading tree,
Her tuneful voice beside the swelling fountain
Giving sweet notes to its wild melody.

JULIA H. SCOTT.

21. A season _atween June and May_,
Half prankt with Spring, with summer half embrown'd.

THOMSON--_Castle of Indolence_.

22. When comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come,
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees
are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill;
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he
bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood, and by the stream no more.

W. C. BRYANT.

23. Brave _Winter_ and thou shalt ever agree,
Though a stern and frowning gaffer is he;
You like to hear him, with hail and rain,
Come tapping against the window pane;
You joy to see him come marching forth,
Begirt with the icicle gems of the north;
But you like him best when he comes bedight
In his velvet robes of stainless white.

ELIZA COOK.

24. When "adieu!" father Winter has sadly said
To the world, when about withdrawing,
With his old white wig half off his head,
And his icicle fingers _thawing_!

MISS H. F. GOULD.

25. Gentle _May_,
She with her robe of flowers;
She with her sun and sky, her clouds and showers!
Who bringeth forth unto the eye of day,
From their imprisoning and mysterious night,
The buds of many hues, the children of her light.

J. LAWRENCE, JR.

26. The last days of _Autumn_, when the corn
Lies sweet and mellow in the harvest-field,
And the gay company of reapers bind
The bearded wheat in sheaves.