The World's Best Poetry -- Volume 10

Part 4 out of 10

Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as a doorstep
Into a world unknown,--the corner-stone of a nation!
_Courtship of Miles Standish_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

They love their land because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty.
_Connecticut_. F-G. HALLECK.

How has New England's romance fled,
Even as a vision of the morning!
Its right foredone,--its guardians dead,--
Its priestesses, bereft of dread,
Waking the veriest urchin's scorning!

* * * * *

And now our modern Yankee sees
Nor omens, spells, nor mysteries;
And naught above, below, around,

Of life or death, of sight or sound,
Whate'er its nature, form, or look,
Excites his terror or surprise,--
All seeming to his knowing eyes
Familiar as his "catechize,"
Or "Webster's Spelling-Book."
_A New England Legend_. J.G. WHITTIER.

Long as thine Art shall love true love,
Long as thy Science truth shall know,
Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove,
Long as thy Law by law shall grow,
Long as thy God is God above,
Thy brother every man below,--
So long, dear Land of all my love,
Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall glow!
_Centennial Meditation of Columbia_: 1876. S. LANIER.

His home!--the Western giant smiles,
And turns the spotty globe to find it;--
This little speck the British Isles?
'Tis but a freckle,--never mind it.
_A Good Time Going_. O.W. HOLMES.


O England! model to thy inward greatness,
Like little body with a mighty heart.
_King Henry V., Act ii. Chorus_. SHAKESPEARE.

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war:
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea.
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
_King Richard II., Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

England! my country, great and free!
Heart of the world, I leap to thee!
_Festus: Sc. The Surface_. P.J. BAILEY.

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held. In everything we are sprung
Of earth's first blood, have titles manifold.
_National Independence, Sonnet XVI_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Heaven (that hath placed this island to give law
To balance Europe, and her states to awe,)
In this conjunction doth on Britain smile,
The greatest leader, and the greatest isle!
Whether this portion of the world were rent,
By the rude ocean, from the continent,
Or thus created; it was sure designed
To be the sacred refuge of mankind.
_To My Lord Protector_. E. WALLER.

This England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.
_King John, Act v. Sc. 7_. SHAKESPEARE.

A land of settled government,
A land of just and old renown,
Where freedom broadens slowly down,
From precedent to precedent:

Where faction seldom gathers head:
But, by degrees to fulness wrought,
The strength of some diffusive thought
Hath time and space to work and spread.
_The Land of Lands_. A. TENNYSON.

Broad-based upon her people's will,
And compassed by the inviolate sea.
_To the Queen_. A. TENNYSON.


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.
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,
That knits me to thy rugged strand!
_Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto VI_. SIR W. SCOTT.

Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots
Frae Maiden Kirk to Johnny Groat's.
_On Capt. Grose's Peregrinations Thro' Scotland_. R. BURNS.


As when the sea breaks o'er its bounds,
And overflows the level grounds,
Those banks and dams that, like a screen
Did keep it out, now keep it in.
_Hudibras_. S. BUTLER.

Methinks her patient sons before me stand,
Where the broad Ocean leans against the land,
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide,
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
Onward methinks, and diligently slow,
The firm connected bulwark seems to grow,
Spreads its long arms amidst the watery roar,
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore.
While the pent Ocean, rising o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile;
The slow canal, the yellow-blossomed vale,
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail,
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation rescued from his reign.
_The Traveller_. O. GOLDSMITH.


Italia! O Italia! thou who hast
The fatal gift of beauty, which became
A funeral dower of present woes and past,
On thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by shame,
And annals graved in characters of flame.
_Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Italy, my Italy!
Queen Mary's saying serves for me
(When fortune's malice
Lost her Calais):
Open my heart, and you will see
Graved inside of it, "Italy."
_De Gustibus_. R. BROWNING.


Courage, the highest gift, that scorns to bend
To mean devices for a sordid end.
Courage--an independent spark from Heaven's bright throne,
By which the soul stands raised, triumphant, high, alone.
Great in itself, not praises of the crowd,
Above all vice, it stoops not to be proud.
Courage, the mighty attribute of powers above,
By which those great in war, are great in love.
The spring of all brave acts is seated here,
As falsehoods draw their sordid birth from fear.
_Love and a Bottle: Dedication_. G. FARQUHAR.

Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.
_King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Write on your doors the saying wise and old,
"Be bold! be bold!" and everywhere--"Be bold;
Be not too bold!" Yet better the excess
Than the defect; better the more than less;
Better like Hector in the field to die.
Than like a perfumed Paris turn and fly.
_Morituri Salutamus_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

MACBETH. If we should fail,--
But screw your courage to the sticking place,
And we'll not fail.
_Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 7_. SHAKESPEARE.

What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The armed rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble.
_Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

"Brave boys," he said, "be not dismayed,
For the loss of one commander,
For God will be our king this day,
And I'll be general under."
_From the Battle of the Boyne. Old Ballad_.

By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavor for defence,
For courage mounteth with occasion.
_King John, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.
_Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

Danger knows full well
That Caesar is more dangerous than he.
We are two lions littered in one day,
And I the elder and more terrible.
_Julius Caesar, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

No common object to your sight displays,
But what with pleasure Heaven itself surveys,
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,
And greatly falling with a falling state.
While Cato gives his little senate laws,
What bosom beats not in his country's cause?
Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
Who sees him act, but envies every deed?
_Prologue to Mr. Addison's Cato_. A. POPE.

Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?--Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And fade him follow.
_Julius Caesar, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

"You fool! I tell you no one means you harm."
"So much the better," Juan said, "for them."
_Don Juan_. LORD BYRON.

The intent and not the deed
Is in our power; and therefore who dares greatly
Does greatly.
_Barbarossa_. J. BROWN.

False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my clan,
Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one!
They are true to the last of their blood and their breath,
And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.
_Lochiel's Warning_. T. CAMPBELL.


How sweet and gracious, even in common speech,
Is that fine sense which men call Courtesy!
Wholesome as air and genial as the light,
Welcome in every clime as breath of flowers,
It transmutes aliens into trusting friends,
And gives its owner passport round the globe.
_Courtesy_. J.T. FIELDS.

In thy discourse, if thou desire to please;
All such is courteous, useful, new, or wittie:
Usefulness comes by labor, wit by ease;
Courtesie grows in court; news in the citie.
_The Church Porch_. G. HERBERT.

I am the very pink of courtesy.
_Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

The kindest man,
The best-conditioned and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies.
_Merchant of Venice, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Would you both please and be instructed too,
Watch well the rage of shining, to subdue;
Hear every man upon his favorite theme,
And ever be more knowing than you seem.


What is danger
More than the weakness of our apprehensions?
A poor cold part o' th' blood. Who takes it hold of?
Cowards and wicked livers: valiant minds
Were made the masters of it.

Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,
A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;
Dreading even fools, by flatteries besieged,
And so obliging that he ne'er obliged.
_Satires: Prologue_. A. POPE.

Cowards are cruel, but the brave
Love mercy, and delight to save.
_Fables, Pt. I. Fable I_. J. GAY.

When desp'rate ills demand a speedy cure,
Distrust is cowardice, and prudence folly.
_Irene, Act iv. Sc. 1_. DR. S. JOHNSON.

That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
And, at the best, shows but a bastard valor.
This life's a fort committed to my trust,
Which I must not yield up, till it be forced:
Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die,
But he that boldly bears calamity.
_Maid of Honor, Act iv. Sc. 1_. P. MASSINGER.

Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward!
Thou little valiant, great in villany!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety!
_King John, Act iii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

For he who fights and runs away
May live to fight another day;
But he who is in battle slain
Can never rise and fight again.
_The Art of Poetry on a New Plan_. O. GOLDSMITH.

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
_Julius Caesar, Act ii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.


Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer.
_Childe Harold, Canto III_. LORD BYRON.

But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast
To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last.
_Lalla Rookh: Veiled Prophet of Khorassan_. T. MOORE.

For fools are stubborn in their way,
As coins are hardened by th' allay;
And obstinacy's ne'er so stiff
As when 'tis in a wrong belief.
_Hudibras, Pt. III. Canto II_. S. BUTLER.

You can and you can't,
You will and you won't;
You'll be damned if you do,
You'll be damned if you don't.
_Chain (Definition of Calvinism)_. L. DOW.

They believed--faith, I'm puzzled--I think I may call
Their belief a believing in nothing at all,
Or something of that sort; I know they all went
For a general union of total dissent.
_A Fable for Critics_. J.R. LOWELL.

We are our own fates. Our own deeds
Are our doomsmen. Man's life was made
Not for men's creeds,
But men's actions.
_Lucile, Pt. II. Canto V_. LORD LYTTON (_Owen Meredith_).

Go put your creed into your deed.
Nor speak with double tongue.
_Ode: Concord, July 4, 1857_. R.W. EMERSON.


There is a method in man's wickedness,
It grows up by degrees.
_A King and no King, Act v. Sc. 4_. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Tremble, thou wretch,
That has within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipped of justice.
_King Lear, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

But many a crime deemed innocent on earth
Is registered in Heaven; and these no doubt
Have each their record, with a curse annexed.
_The Task, Bk. VI_. W. COWPER.


And finds, with keen, discriminating sight,
Black's not so black;--nor white so _very_ white.
_New Morality_. A. CANNING.

In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold,
Alike fantastic if too new or old:
Be not the first by whom the new are tried,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
_Essay on Criticism, Pt. II_. A. POPE.

Poets lose half the praise they should have got,
Could it be known what they discreetly blot.
_Upon Roscommon's Translation of Horace's De Arte Poetica_.

Vex not thou the poet's mind
With thy shallow wit:
Vex not thou the poet's mind:
For thou canst not fathom it.
_The Poet's Mind_. A. TENNYSON.


Man yields to custom, as he bows to fate,
In all things ruled--mind, body, and estate.
_Tale III., Gentleman Farmer_. G. CRABBE.

The slaves of custom and established mode,
With pack-horse constancy we keep the road
Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells,
True to the jingling of our leader's bells.
_Tirocinium_. W. COWPER.

Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock or livery,
That aptly is put on.
_Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

Custom calls me to 't;
What custom wills, in all things should we do 't,
The dust on antique time would lie unswept,
And mountainous error be too highly heapt
For truth to o'erpeer.
_Coriolanus, Act ii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

Such is the custom of Branksome Hall.
_The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto I_. SIR W. SCOTT.

The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down.
_Othello, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

But to my mind,--though I am native here,
And to the manner born,--it is a custom
More honored in the breach, than the observance.
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.


Faster and more fast,
O'er night's brim, day boils at last;
Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim.
_Pippa Passes: Introduction_. R. BROWNING.

How troublesome is day!
It calls us from our sleep away;
It bids us from our pleasant dreams awake,
And sends us forth to keep or break
Our promises to pay.
How troublesome is day!
_Fly-By-Night_. T.L. PEACOCK.

Blest power of sunshine!--genial day,
What balm, what life is in thy ray!
To feel there is such real bliss,
That had the world no joy but this,
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet,--
It were a world too exquisite
For man to leave it for the gloom,
The deep, cold shadow, of the tomb.
_Lalla Rookh: The Fire Worshippers_. T. MOORE.


Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.
_Cupid and Death_. J. SHIRLEY.

A worm is in the bud of youth,
And at the root of age.
_Stanza subjoined to a Bill of Mortality_. W. COWPER.

The tall, the wise, the reverend head
Must lie as low as ours.
_A Funeral Thought, Bk. II. Hymn 63_. DR. I. WATTS.

Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and--farewell king!
_K. Richard II., Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

And though mine arm should conquer twenty worlds,
There's a lean fellow beats all conquerors.
_Old Fortunatus_. T. DEKKER.

Men must endure
Their going hence, even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all.
_King Lear, Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

This fell sergeant, death,
Is strict in his arrest.
_Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

We cannot hold mortality's strong hand.
_King John, Act iv. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

That we shall die we know: 't is but the time
And drawing days out, that men stand upon.
_Julius Caesar, Act iii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Our days begin with trouble here,
Our life is but a span,
And cruel death is always near,
So frail a thing is man.
_New England Primer_.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.
_Julius Caesar, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

The hour concealed, and so remote the fear,
Death still draws nearer, never seeming near.
_Essay on Man, Epistle III_. A. POPE.

The tongues of dying men
Enforce attention, like deep harmony:
When words are scarce, they're seldom spent in vain;
For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.
_K. Richard II., Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

A death-bed's a detector of the heart:
Here tired dissimulation drops her mask,
Through life's grimace that mistress of the scene;
Here real and apparent are the same.
_Night Thoughts, Night II_. DR. E. YOUNG.

The chamber where the good man meets his fate
Is privileged beyond the common walk
Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.
_Night Thoughts. Night II_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Nothing in his life
Became him like the leaving it; he died,
As one that had been studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
As 't were a careless trifle.
_Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

The bad man's death is horror; but the just,
Keeps something of his glory in the dust.
_Castara_. W. HABINGTON.

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhouseled, disappointed, unaneled;
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

With mortal crisis doth portend
My days to appropinque an end.
_Hudibras, Pt. I. Canto III_. S. BUTLER.

Sure, 't is a serious thing to die!...
Nature runs back and shudders at the sight,
And every life-string bleeds at thought of parting;
For part they must: body and soul must part;
Fond couple! linked more close than wedded pair.
_The Grave_. B. BLAIR.

While man is growing, life is in decrease;
And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun.
_Night Thoughts, Night V_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Put out the light, and then--put out the light.
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me; but once put out thy light,
Thou cunningest pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume. When I have plucked thy rose
I cannot give it vital growth again,
It needs must wither.
_Othello, Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
_Night Thoughts, Night V_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Death aims with fouler spite
At fairer marks.
_Divine Poems_. F. QUARLES.

The ripest fruit first falls.
_Richard II., Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

The good die first,
And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust
Burn to the socket.
_The Excursion, Bk. I_ W. WORDSWORTH.

Happy they!
Thrice fortunate! who of that fragile mould,
The precious porcelain of human clay,
Break with the first fall.
_Don Juan, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Loveliest of lovely things are they,
On earth that soonest pass away.
The rose that lives its little hour
Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
_A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson_. W.C. BRYANT.

"Whom the gods love die young," was said of yore.
_Don Juan, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to Heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there.
_Epitaph on an Infant_. S.T. COLERIDGE.

Thank God for Death! bright thing with dreary name.
_Benedicam Dominos_. SARAH C. WOOLSEY _(Susan Coolidge)_.

But an old age serene and bright,
And lovely as a Lapland night,
Shall lead thee to thy grave.
_To a Young Lady_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Death is the privilege of human nature,
And life without it were not worth our taking:
Thither the poor, the pris'ner, and the mourner
Fly for relief, and lay their burthens down.
_The Fair Penitent, Act v. Sc 1_. N. ROWE.

Death! to the happy thou art terrible,
But how the wretched love to think of thee,
O thou true comforter, the friend of all
Who have no friend beside.
_Joan of Arc_. R. SOUTHEY.

I would that I were low laid in my grave;
I am not worth this coil that's made for me.
_King John, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

He gave his honors to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
_Henry VIII., Act iv. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew;
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter.
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Dream of fighting fields no more;
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.

* * * * *

Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done;
Think not of the rising sun,
For, at dawning to assail ye,
Here no bugles sound reveille.
_Lady of the Lake, Canto I_. SIR W. SCOTT.

Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well;
Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
Can touch him further!
_Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Here may the storme-bett vessell safely ryde;
This is the port of rest from troublous toyle,
The worlde's sweet inn from paine and wearisome turmoyle.
_Faerie Queene_. E. SPENSER.

To die is landing on some silent shore,
Where billows never break, nor tempests roar;
Ere well we feel the friendly stroke, 't is o'er.
_The Dispensary, Canto III_. SIR S. GARTH.

Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep.
_Titus Andronicus, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Let guilt, or fear,
Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of them;
Indifferent in his choice, to sleep or die.
_Cato_. J. ADDISON.

Sleep is a death; O make me try
By sleeping what it is to die,
And as gently lay my head
On my grave as now my bed.
_Religio Medici, Pt. II. Sec_. 12. SIR T. BROWNE.

Death in itself is nothing; but we fear
To be we know not what, we know not where.
_Aurengzebe, Act iv. Sc. 1_. J. DRYDEN.

Death, so called, is a thing that makes men weep,
And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
_Don Juan, Canto XIV_. LORD BYRON.

Let no man fear to die; we love to sleep all,
And death is but the sounder sleep.
_Humorous Lieutenant_. F. BEAUMONT.

I hear a voice you cannot hear,
Which says I must not stay,
I see a hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me away.
_Colin and Lucy_. T. TICKELL.


An evil soul producing holy witness
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek;
A goodly apple rotten at the heart:
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
_Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

A man I knew who lived upon a smile,
And well it fed him; he looked plump and fair.
While rankest venom foamed through every vein.
_Night Thoughts, Night VIII_. DR. E. YOUNG.

The world is still deceived with ornament,
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
_Merchant of Venice, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world
But those who slide along the grassy sod.
And sting the luckless foot that presses them?
There are who in the path of social life
Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun,
And sting the soul.
_De Montford, Act i. Sc. 2_. J. BAILLIE.

Hateful to me as are the gates of hell,
Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart,
Utters another.
_The Iliad, Bk. IX_. HOMER. _Trans. of_ BRYANT.

Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes,
And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile!
_K. Richard III., Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Our better part remains
To work in close design, by fraud or guile,
What force effected not; that he no less
At length from us may find, who overcomes
By force hath overcome but half his foe.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. I_. MILTON.

Appearances to save, his only care;
So things seem right, no matter what they are.
_Rosciad_. C. CHURCHILL.

Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made,
To turn a penny in the way of trade.
_Table Talk_. W. COWPER.


From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done.
_Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Count that day lost whose low descending sun
Views from thy hand no worthy action done.
_Staniford's Art of Reading. Author Unknown_.

That low man seeks a little thing to do,
Sees it and does it;
This high man, with a great thing to pursue,
Dies ere he knows it.
_A Grammarian's Funeral_. R. BROWNING.

'Tis not what man Does which exalts him, but what man
Would do.

From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed.
_All's Well that Ends Well, Act ii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

Little deeds of kindness, little words of love.
Make our earth an Eden like the heaven above.
_Little Things_. J.A. CARNEY.

I profess not talking: only this,
Let each man do his best.
_Henry IV., Pt. I. Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Things done well.
And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be feared.
_Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

So much one man can do,
That does both act and know.
_Upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland_. A. MARVELL.


Yes, this is life; and everywhere we meet,
Not victor crowns, but wailings of defeat.
_The Unattained_. E.O. SMITH.

At a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior, famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the books of honor razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled.

What though the field be lost?
All is not lost; the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield.
And what is else not to be overcome.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. I_. MILTON.

Unkindness may do much;
And his unkindness may defeat my life,
But never taint my love.
_Othello, Act iv. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

They never fail who die
In a great cause.
_Marino Faliero, Act ii. Sc. 2_. LORD BYRON.


So farewell hope, and, with hope, farewell fear,
Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost;
Evil, be thou my good.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

No change, no pause, no hope! Yet I endure.
_Prometheus Unbound, Act i_. P.B. SHELLEY.

The strongest and the fiercest spirit
That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. II_. MILTON.

I am one, my liege,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Have so incensed, that I am reckless what
I do to spite the world.
_Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have passed away.
_Needless Alarm_. W. COWPER.


I called the devil, and he came,
And with wonder his form did I closely scan;
He is not ugly, and is not lame,
But really a handsome and charming man.
A man in the prime of life is the devil,
Obliging, a man of the world, and civil;
A diplomatist too, well skilled in debate,
He talks quite glibly of church and state.
_Pictures of Travel: Return Home_. H. HEINE.

The Devil was sick, the Devil a monk would be;
The Devil was well, the Devil a monk was he.
_Works, Bk. IV_. F. RABELAIS.

He must needs go that the devil drives.
_All's Well that Ends Well, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

The prince of darkness is a gentleman.
_King Lear, Act iii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

The devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape.
_Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequence.
_Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

But the trail of the serpent is over them all.
_Paradise and the Peri_. T. MOORE.


Dewdrops, Nature's tears, which she
Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die.
The sun insists on gladness; but at night,
When he is gone, poor Nature loves to weep.
_Festus: Sc. Water and Wood. Midnight_. P.J. BAILEY.

Dewdrops are the gems of morning,
But the tears of mournful eve!
_Youth and Age_. S.T. COLERIDGE.

The dews of the evening most carefully shun,--
Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun.
_Advice to a Lady in Autumn_. EARL OF CHESTERFIELD.

With coronet of fresh and fragrant flower;
The same dew, which sometimes on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flow'rets' eyes,
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
_Midsummer Night's Dream, Act iv. Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

I've seen the dewdrop clinging
To the rose just newly born.
_Mary of Argyle_. C. JEFFREYS.

An host
Innumerable as the stars of night,
Or stars of morning, dewdrops, which the sun
Impearls on every leaf and every flower.
_Paradise Lost, Book V_. MILTON.

The dewdrops in the breeze of morn.
Trembling and sparkling on the thorn.
_A Collection of Mary F_. J. MONTGOMERY.


Hope tells a flattering tale,
Delusive, vain, and hollow,
Ah, let not Hope prevail,
Lest disappointment follow.
_The Universal Songster_. MISS WROTHER.

As distant prospects please us, but when near
We find but desert rocks and fleeting air.
_The Dispensatory, Canto III_. SIR S. GARTH.

We're charmed with distant views of happiness,
But near approaches make the prospect less.
_Against Enjoyment_. T. YALDEN.

The wretched are the faithful; 't is their fate
To have all feelings, save the one, decay,
And every passion into one dilate.
_Lament of Tasso_. LORD BYRON.

Alas! the breast that inly bleeds
Hath naught to dread from outward blow:
Who falls from all he knows of bliss
Cares little into what abyss.
_The Giaour_. LORD BYRON.

Full little knowest thou that hast not tried,
What hell it is in suing long to bide:
To lose good dayes, that might be better spent;
To waste long nights in pensive discontent;
To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;
To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.
_Mother Hubberd's Tale_. E. SPENSER.

A thousand years a poor man watched
Before the gate of Paradise:
But while one little nap he snatched,
It oped and shut. Ah! was he wise?
_Oriental Poetry: Swift Opportunity_. W.R. ALGER.

Defend me, therefore, common sense, say I,
From reveries so airy, from the toil
Of dropping buckets into empty wells,
And growing old in drawing nothing up.
_Task, Bk. III_. W. COWPER.

Like Dead Sea fruit that tempts the eye,
But turns to ashes on the lips!
_Lalla Rookh: The Fire Worshippers_. T. MOORE.

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste.
_Childe Harold, Canto III_. LORD BYRON.

At threescore winters' end I died,
A cheerless being, sole and sad;
The nuptial knot I never tied,
And wish my father never had.
_From the Greek_. W. COWPER'S _Trans_.

The cold--the changed--perchance the dead--anew,
The mourned, the loved, the lost--too many!--yet how few!
_Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Do not drop in for an after-loss.
Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.

I have not loved the world, nor the world me.
_Childe Harold, Canto III_. LORD BYRON.


Past and to come seem best; things present worst.
_King Henry IV., Pt. II. Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if he mocked himself and scorned his spirit
That could be moved to smile at anything.
_Julius Caesar, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

To sigh, yet feel no pain,
To weep, yet scarce know why;
To sport an hour with beauty's chain,
Then throw it idly by.
_The Blue Stocking_. T. MOORE.


Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye,
Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky?
Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear
More sweet than all the landscape smiling near?--
'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Thus, with delight, we linger to survey
The promised joys of life's unmeasured way.
_Pleasures of Hope, Pt. I_. T. CAMPBELL.

Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice;
Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,
Frozen by distance.
_Address to Kilchurn Castle_. W. WORDSWORTH.

How he fell
From heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove
Sheer o'er the crystal battlements; from morn
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
A summer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropt from the zenith like a falling star.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. I_. MILTON.

What! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
_Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.


Modest doubt is called
The beacon of the wise.
_Troilus and Cressida, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Who never doubted, never half believed,
Where doubt there truth is--'tis her shadow.
_Festus: Sc. A Country Town_. P.J. BAILEY.

Uncertain ways unsafest are,
And doubt a greater mischief than despair.
_Cooper's Hill_. SIR J. DENHAM.

But the gods are dead--
Ay, Zeus is dead, and all the gods but Doubt,
And Doubt is brother devil to Despair!
_Prometheus: Christ_. J.B. O'REILLY.

Our doubts are traitors
And make us lose the good we oft might win
By fearing to attempt.
_Measure for Measure, Act i. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

But now, I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in
To saucy doubts and fears.
_Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;
Nothing's so hard but search will find it out.
_Seek and Find_. R. HERRICK.

Dubious is such a scrupulous good man--
Yes--you may catch him tripping if you can,
He would not, with a peremptory tone,
Assert the nose upon his face his own;
With hesitation admirably slow,
He humbly hopes--presumes--it may be so.
_Conversation_. W. COWPER.

But there are wanderers o'er Eternity
Whose bark drives on and on, and anchored ne'er shall be.
_Childe Harold, Canto III_. LORD BYRON.

The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is called
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst.
_Troilus and Cressida, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.


Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes;
When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.
_Fables: The Cock and the Fox_. J. DRYDEN.

'Twas but a dream,--let it pass,--let it vanish like so many others!
What I thought was a flower is only a weed, and is worthless.
_Courtship of Miles Standish, Pt. VIII_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

One of those passing rainbow dreams,
Half light, half shade, which fancy's beams
Paint on the fleeting mists that roll,
In trance or slumber, round the soul!
_Lalla Rookh: Fire Worshippers_. T. MOORE.

If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
And all this day an unaccustomed spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
_Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted dreams,
And into glory peep.
_Ascension Hymn_. H. VAUGHAN.

When to soft Sleep we give ourselves away,
And in a dream as in a fairy bark
Drift on and on through the enchanted dark
To purple daybreak--little thought we pay
To that sweet bitter world we know by day.
_Sonnet: Sleep_. T.B. ALDRICH.

Dreams are the children of an idle brain.
_Romeo and Juliet, Act_ i. _Sc_. 4. SHAKESPEARE.


Let thy attyre bee comely, but not costly.
_Euphues, 1579_. J. LYLY.

The soul of this man is his clothes.
_All's Well that Ends Well, Act ii. Sc. 5_.. SHAKESPEARE.

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

We'll have a swashing and a martial outside.
_As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And heightens ease with grace.
_Castle of Indolence, Canto I_. J. THOMSON.

What a fine man
Hath your tailor made you!
_City Madam, Act i. Sc. 2_. P. MASSINGER.

Thy gown? why, ay;--come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart?
Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,
Like to a censer in a barber's shop:
Why, what i' devil's name, tailor, callest thou this!
_Taming of the Shrew, Act iv. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales and things;
With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery,
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.
_Taming of the Shrew, Act iv. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

Dress drains our cellar dry,
And keeps our larder lean; puts out our fires.
And introduces hunger, frost, and woe,
Where peace and hospitality might reign.
_The Task, Bk. II_. W. COWPER.

Dwellers in huts and in marble halls--
From Shepherdess up to Queen--
Cared little for bonnets, and less for shawls,
And nothing for crinoline.
But now simplicity 's _not_ the rage,
And it's funny to think how cold
The dress they wore in the Golden Age
Would seem in the Age of Gold.
_The Two Ages_. H.S. LEIGH.


Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamored of the nut-brown maid.
_The Minstrel, Bk. I_. J. BEATTIE.

Fill full! Why this is as it should be: here
Is my true realm, amidst bright eyes and faces
Happy as fair! Here sorrow cannot reach.
_Sardanapalus, Act iii. Sc_. 1. LORD BYRON.

But maistly thee, the bluid o' Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to John o' Grots,
The king o' drinks, as I conceive it,
Talisker, Isla, or Glenlivet!
For after years wi' a pockmantie
Frae Zanzibar to Alicante,
In mony a fash an' sair affliction
I gie 't as my sincere conviction--
Of a' their foreign tricks an' pliskies,
I maist abominate their whiskies.
Nae doot, themsel's, they ken it weel,
An' wi' a hash o' leemon peel,
An' ice an' siccan filth, they ettle
The stawsome kind o' goo to settle;
Sic wersh apothecary's broos wi'
As Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo's wi'.
_The Scotman's Return from Abroad_ R.L. STEVENSON.

This bottle's the sun of our table,
His beams are rosy wine;
We planets that are not able,
Without his help to shine.
_The Duenna, Act iii. Sc_. 5. R.B. SHERIDAN.

Now to rivulets from the mountains
Point the rods of fortune-tellers;
Youth perpetual dwells in fountains,
Not in flasks, and casks, and cellars.
_Drinking Song_ H.W. LONGFELLOW.

In vain I trusted that the flowing bowl
Would banish sorrow, and enlarge the soul.
To the late revel, and protracted feast,
Wild dreams succeeded, and disordered rest.
_Solomon, Bk. II_. M. PRIOR.

And now, in madness,
Being full of supper and distempering draughts,
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
To start my quiet.
_Othello, Act i. Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

He that is drunken....
Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill
Did with his liquor slide into his veins.
_The Temple: The Church Porch_. G. HERBERT.

A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo 'em,
To suffer wet damnation to run through 'em.
_The Revenger's Tragedy, Act iii. Sc. 1_. C. TOURNEUR.

I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground
For kissing of their feet.
_Tempest, Act iv. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Of my merit
On thet point you yourself may jedge;
All is, I never drink no sperit,
Nor I hain't never signed no pledge.
_The Biglow Papers, First Series, No. VII_.


So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
So near is God to man,
When Duty whispers low, _Thou must_,
The youth replies, _I can_.
_Voluntaries_. R.W. EMERSON.

Not once or twice in our rough island story,
The path of duty was the way to glory.
_Ode: Death of the Duke of Wellington_. A. TENNYSON.

When I'm not thanked at all, I'm thanked enough:
I've done my duty, and I've done no more.
_Tom Thumb_. H. FIELDING.

And I read the moral--A brave endeavor
To do thy duty, whate'er its worth,
Is better than life with love forever,
And love is the sweetest thing on earth.
_Sir Hugo's Choice_. J.J. ROCHE.


The slender debt to nature's quickly paid,
Discharged, perchance, with greater ease than made.
_Emblems, Bk. II_.13. F. QUARLES.

The sense of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.
_Measure for Measure, Act iii. Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

She thought our good-night kiss was given,
And like a lily her life did close;
Angels uncurtained that repose,
And the next waking dawned in heaven.
_Ballad of Babe Christabel_. G. MASSEY.

So fades a summer cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.
_The Death of the Virtuous_. MRS. BARBAULD.

Of no distemper, of no blast he died,
But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long;
Even wondered at, because he dropt no sooner.
Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years;
Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more:
Till, like a clock worn out with eating time,
The wheels of weary life at last stood still.
_OEdipus, Act iv. Sc. 1_. J. DRYDEN.


"Christ the Lord is risen to-day,"
Sons of men and angels say.
Raise your joys and triumphs high;
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply.
"_Christ the Lord is risen to-day_." C. WESLEY.

Yes, He is risen who is the First and Last;
Who was and is; who liveth and was dead;
Beyond the reach of death He now has passed,
Of the one glorious Church the glorious Head.
_He is Risen_. H. BONAR.

Tomb, thou shalt not hold Him longer;
Death is strong, but Life is stronger;
Stronger than the dark, the light;
Stronger than the wrong, the right;
Faith and Hope triumphant say
Christ will rise on Easter Day.
_An Easter Carol_. PH. BROOKS.

Rise, heart! thy Lord is risen. Sing His praise
Without delays
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
With Him mayst rise--
That as His death calcined thee to dust,
His life may make thee gold, and much more just.
_Easter_. G. HERBERT.

Spring bursts to-day,
For Christ is risen and all the earth's at play.
_An Easter Carol_. C.G. ROSSETTI.


With crosses, relics, crucifixes,
Beads, pictures, rosaries, and pixes;
The tools of working out salvation
By mere mechanic operation.
_Hudibras, Pt. III. Canto I_. S. BUTLER.

Till Peter's keys some christened Jove adorn,
And Pan to Moses lends his pagan horn.
_The Dunciad, Bk. III_. A. POPE.

Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
_Don Juan, Canto I_. LORD BYRON.

To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite,
Who never mentions hell to ears polite.
_Moral Essays, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_. LORD BYRON.

So shall they build me altars in their zeal,
Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel:
Where faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell,
Written in blood--and Bigotry may swell
The sail he spreads for Heaven with blast from hell!
_Lalla Rookh: The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan_. T. MOORE.

In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
_Childe Harold, Canto I_. LORD BYRON.

When pious frauds and holy shifts
Are dispensations and gifts.
_Hudibras, Pt. I. Canto III_. S. BUTLER.

Yes,--rather plunge me back in pagan night,
And take my chance with Socrates for bliss,
Than be the Christian of a faith like this,
Which builds on heavenly cant its earthly sway,
And in a convert mourns to lose a prey.
_Intolerance_. T. MOORE.

And after hearing what our Church can say,
If still our reason runs another way,
That private reason 'tis more just to curb,
Than by disputes the public peace disturb;
For points obscure are of small use to learn,
But common quiet is mankind's concern.
_Religio Laici_. J. DRYDEN.


The time will come when every change shall cease,
This quick revolving wheel shall rest in peace:
No summer then shall glow, nor winter freeze;
Nothing shall be to come, and nothing past,
But an eternal now shall ever last.
_The Triumph of Eternity_. PETRARCH.

Nothing is there to come, and nothing past,
But an eternal now does always last.
_Davideis, Bk. I_. A. COWLEY.

This speck of life in time's great wilderness,
This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas,
The past, the future, two eternities!
_Lalla Rookh; The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan_. T. MOORE.

And can eternity belong to me,
Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
_Night Thoughts, Night I_. DR. E. YOUNG.

'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,
And indicates eternity to man.
_Cato, Act v. Sc. I_. J. ADDISON.


Sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild; then silent night
With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

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.
_Parisina_. LORD BYRON.

O, Twilight! Spirit that doth render birth
To dim enchantments, melting heaven with earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and running streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams.
_Picture of Twilight_. MRS. C. NORTON.

Now came still evening on; and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad:
Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
_A Life Drama_. A. SMITH.

When on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken,
And winds of dreamy odor are loosened from afar
_When on the Marge of Evening_. L.I. GUINEY.

When day is done, and clouds are low,
And flowers are honey-dew,
And Hesper's lamp begins to glow
Along the western blue;
And homeward wing the turtle-doves,
Then comes the hour the poet loves.
_The Poet's Hour_. G. CROLY.

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices.
_Ulysses_. A. TENNYSON.

The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration.
_It is a Beauteous Evening_. W. WORDSWORTH.


'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear;
Heaven were not heaven, if we knew what it were.
_Against Fruition_. SIR J. SUCKLING.

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises; and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.
_All's Well that Ends Well, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Why wish for more?
Wishing, of all employments, is the worst;
Philosophy's reverse and health's decay.
_Night Thoughts, Night IV_. DR. E. YOUNG.


A gray eye is a sly eye,
And roguish is a brown one;
Turn full upon me thy eye,--
Ah, how its wavelets drown one!
A blue eye is a true eye;
Mysterious is a dark one,
Which flashes like a spark-sun!
A black eye is the best one.
_Oriental Poetry: Mirza Shaffy on Eyes_. W.B. ALGER.

O lovely eyes of azure,
Clear as the waters of a brook that run
Limpid and laughing in the summer sun!
_The Masque of Pandora, Pt. I_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Within her tender eye
The heaven of April, with its changing light.
_The Spirit of Poetry_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth,
Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array
He cheers the morn, and all the earth relieveth;
And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
So is her face illumined with her eye.
_Venus and Adonis_. SHAKESPEARE.

Blue eyes shimmer with angel glances,
Like spring violets over the lea.
_October's Song_. C.F. WOOLSON.

The harvest of a quiet eye,
That broods and sleeps OH his own heart.
_A Poet Epitaph_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Stabbed with a white wench's black eye.
_Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

Sometimes from her eyes
I did receive fair speechless messages.
_Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

For where is any author in the world
Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
_Love's Labor's Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

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

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance.
_The Tempest, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Alas! how little can a moment show
Of an eye where feeling plays
In ten thousand dewy rays;
A face o'er which a thousand shadows go.
_The Triad_. W. WORDSWORTH.


There's no art
To find the mind's construction in the face.
_Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

Your face, my thane, is a book where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time.
_Macbeth, Act i. Sc 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

Her face so faire, as flesh it seemed not,
But heavenly pourtraict of bright angels' hew,
Cleare as the skye withouten blame or blot,
Through goodly mixture of complexion's dew.
_Faerie Queene, Canto III_. E. SPENSER.

The light upon her face
Shines from the windows of another world.
Saints only have such faces.
_Michael Angelo_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Oh! could you view the melody
Of every grace,
And music of her face.
_Orpheus to Beasts_. R. LOVELACE.

A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

In each cheek appears a pretty dimple;
Love made those hollows; if himself were slain,
He might be buried in a tomb so simple;
Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,
Why, there Love lived and there he could not die.
_Venus and Adonis_. SHAKESPEARE.

There Affectation, with a sickly mien,
Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen.
_Rape of the Lock, Canto IV_. A. POPE.

Sweet, pouting lips, whose color mocks the rose,
Rich, ripe, and teeming with the dew of bliss,--
The flower of love's forbidden fruit, which grows
Insidiously to tempt us with a kiss.
_Tasso's Sonnets_. R.H. WILDE.

Her face betokened all things dear and good,
The light of somewhat yet to come was there
Asleep, and waiting for the opening day.
_Margaret in the Xebec_. J. INGELOW.
Her face is like the Milky Way i' the sky,--
A meeting of gentle lights without a name.
_Breunoralt_. SIR J. SUCKLING.

A face with gladness overspread!
Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!
_To a Highland Girl_. W. WORDSWORTH.


They're fairies! he that speaks to them shall die:
I'll wink and couch; no man their sports must eye.
_Merry Wives of Windsor, Act v. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

This is the fairy land: O, spite of spites!
We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites.
_Comedy of Errors, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

In silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.
_Midsummer Night's Dream, Act iv. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Fairies, black, gray, green, and white,
You moonshine revellers, and shades of night.
_Merry Wives of Windsor, Act v. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

Fairies use flowers for their charactery.
_Merry Wives of Windsor, Act v. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

"Scarlet leather, sewn together,
This will make a shoe.
Left, right, pull it tight;
Summer days are warm;
Underground in winter,
Laughing at the storm!"
Lay your ear close to the hill,
Do you not catch the tiny clamor,
Busy click of an elfin hammer,
Voice of the Leprecaun singing shrill
As he merrily plies his trade?
He's a span
And quarter in height.
Get him in sight, hold him fast,
And you're a made
_The Fairy Shoemaker_. W. ALLINGHAM.

Some say no evil thing that walks by night,
In fog, or fire, by lake or moorish fen,
Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost
That breaks his magic chains at curfew time,
No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine,
Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
_Comus_. MILTON.

I took it for a faery vision
Of some gay creatures of the element,
That in the colors of the rainbow live
And play i' th' plighted clouds.
_Comus_. MILTON.

Oft fairy 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, they on their mirth and dance
Intent, with jocund music charm his ear;
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. I_. MILTON.


Faith is the subtle chain
Which binds us to the infinite; the voice
Of a deep life within, that will remain
Until we crowd it thence.
_Sonnet: Faith_. E.O. SMITH.

Nor less I deem that there are Powers
Which of themselves our minds impress;
That we can feed this mind of ours
In a wise passiveness.
_Expostulation and Reply_. W. WORDSWORTH.

One in whom persuasion and belief
Had ripened into faith, and faith become
A passionate intuition.
_The Excursion, B. VII_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of Death,
To break the shock blind nature cannot shun,
And lands Thought smoothly on the further shore.
_Night Thoughts, Night IV_. DR. E. YOUNG.

A bending staff I would not break,
A feeble faith I would not shake,
Nor even rashly pluck away
The error which some truth may stay,
Whose loss might leave the soul without
A shield against the shafts of doubt.
_Questions of Life_. J.G. WHITTIER.

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,
And gather dust and chaff, and call
To what I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope.
_In Memoriam, LIV_. A. TENNYSON.

The Power that led his chosen, by pillared cloud and flame,
Through parted sea and desert waste, that Power is still the Same;
He fails not--He--the loyal hearts that firm on Him rely;
So put your trust in God, my boys, and keep your powder dry.[A]
_Oliver's Advice_. COLONEL W. BLACKER.

[Footnote A: Cromwell, once when his troops were about crossing a
river to attack the enemy, concluded an address with these words: "Put
your trust in God; but mind to keep your powder dry."]

If faith produce no works, I see
That faith is not a living tree.
Thus faith and works together grow;
No separate life they e'er can know:
They're soul and body, hand and heart:
What God hath joined, let no man part.
_Dan and Jane_. H. MORE.

Whose faith has centre everywhere,
Nor cares to fix itself to form.
_In Memoriam, XXXIII_. A. TENNYSON.

But who with filial confidence inspired,
Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say, My Father made them all.
_The Task, Bk. V. Winter Morning Walk_. W. COWPER.


I give him joy that's awkward at a lie.
_Night Thoughts, Night VIII_. DR. E. YOUNG.

For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
_King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act v. Sc. 4_.. SHAKESPEARE.

'Tis as easy as lying.
_Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Some truth there was, but dashed and brewed with lies,
To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise.
_Absalom and Achitophel_. J. DRYDEN.

That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies;
That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright--
But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.
_The Grandmother_. A. TENNYSON.

Some lie beneath the churchyard stone,
And some before the speaker.
_School and Schoolfellows_. W.M. PRAED.

Like one,
Who having, unto truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie.
_The Tempest, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.


Fame is the shade of immortality,
And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught,
Contemned; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp.
_Night Thoughts, Night VII_. DR. E. YOUNG.

And what is Fame? the meanest have their day,
The greatest can but blaze, and pass away.
_First Book of Horace, Epistle VI_. A. POPE.

What's Fame? A fancied life in others' breath,
A thing beyond us, e'en before our death.
_Essay on Man, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper:
Some liken it to climbing up a hill,
Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapor:
For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill,
And bards burn what they call their "midnight taper,"
To have, when the original is dust,
A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.
_Don Juan, Canto I_. LORD BYRON.

Her house is all of Echo made
Where never dies the sound;
And as her brows the clouds invade,
Her feet do strike the ground.
_Fame_. B. JONSON.

What shall I do to be forever known,
And make the age to come my own?
_The Motto_. A. COWLEY.

The best-concerted schemes men lay for fame
Die fast away: only themselves die faster.
The far-famed sculptor, and the laurelled bard,
Those bold insurancers of deathless fame,
Supply their little feeble aids in vain.
_The Grave_. R. BLAIR.

By Jove! I am not covetous for gold;

* * * * *

But, if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.
_King Henry V., Act_ iv. _Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,--
That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,

* * * * *

And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
_Troilus and Cressida, Act_ iii. _Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt
In the despatch: I knew a man whose loss
Was printed _Grove_, although his name was Grose.
_Don Juan, Canto VIII_. LORD BYRON.

Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favors call:
She comes unlooked for, if she comes at all.

* * * * *

Unblemished let me live, or die unknown;
O grant an honest fame, or grant me none!
_The Temple of Fame_. A. POPE.

It deserves with characters of brass
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time
And razure of oblivion.
_Measure for Measure, Act_ v. _Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure.
_Othello, Act_ ii. _Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Know ye not then, said Satan, filled with scorn,--
Know ye not me?

* * * * *

Not to know me argues yourselves unknown,
The lowest of your throng.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

The aspiring youth that fired the Ephesian dome
Outlives, in fame, the pious fool that raised it.
_Shakespeare's King Richard III. (Altered), Act iii. Sc. 1_. C. CIBBER.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where fame's proud temple shines afar!
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Has felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with Fortune an eternal war;
Checked by the scoff of pride, by envy's frown,
And poverty's unconquerable bar,
In life's low vale remote has pined alone,
Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!
_The Minstrel, Bk. I_. J. BEATTIE.


This is the very coinage of your brain:
This bodiless creation ecstasy
Is very cunning in.
_Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

When I could not sleep for cold
I had fire enough in my brain,
And builded with roofs of gold
My beautiful castles in Spain!
_Aladdin_. J.R. LOWELL.

Egeria! sweet creation of some heart
Which found no mortal resting-place so fair
As thine ideal breast; whate'er thou art
Or wert,--a young Aurora of the air,
The nympholepsy of some fond despair;
Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth,
Who found a more than common votary there
Too much adoring; whatsoe'er thy birth,
Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.
_Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
Fancy restores what vengeance snatched away.
_Eloise to Abelard_. A. POPE.

We figure to ourselves
The thing we like, and then we build it up
As chance will have it, on the rock or sand:
For Thought is tired of wandering o'er the world,
And homebound Fancy runs her bark ashore.
_Philip Van Artevelde, Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 5_. SIR H. TAYLOR.


Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been--
A sound which makes us linger;--yet--farewell.
_Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

All farewells should be sudden, when forever,
Else they make an eternity of moments,
And clog the last sad sands of life with tears.
_Sardanapalus_. LORD BYRON.

So sweetly she bade me "Adieu,"


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