'en the whole world, blockheads and men of Unsleeping watchfulness, lone sccresy, letters,
njoy a cannonade upon their betters.
Dr. Wolcot's Peter Pindar. Come hath he none who once becomes a king! ehind the pillar'd masses of his halls he dagger'd traitor lurks; his vaulted roofs to nightly echo to the whisper'd vows
Joanna Baillie's Ethwald.
s it to bear the miseries of a people! 'o hear their murmurs, feel their discontents, And sink beneath a load of splendid care! 'o have your best success ascribed to fortune, And fortune's failures all ascribed to you! t is to sit upon a joyless height,
Attend his throne by day, his couch by night.
Lord John Russell's Don Carlos.
The people cry, "there is the prince shall reign
When Philip is no more:" old nurses bless
His beardless face, and silly children toss
Their tiny caps into the air; while I
Am met by frigid reverence, passive awe,
That fears, yet dares not own itself for fear;
As though the public hangman stalk'd behind me:
And thus it is to reign- to gain men's hate.
Thus for the future monarch, fancy weaves
A spotless robe, entwines his sceptre round
With flowery garlands, places on his head
A crown of laurels, while the weary present,
Like a stale riddle, or a last year's fashion,
Carries no grace with it. Base vulgar world!
"Tis thus that men for ever live in hope,
And he that has done nothing is held forth
As capable of all things.
To ev'ry blast of changing fate expos'd!
Too high for hope! too great for happiness!
Hannah More's Daniel.
t being now settled that emp'rors and kings,
ike kites made of foolscap are high flying things,
To whose tails a few millions of subjects, or so,
Have been tied in a string to be whisk'd to and fro,
ust wherever it suits the said foolscap to go.
Moore's Crib's Memorial to Congress.
This was a truth to us extremely trite,
Not so to her, who ne'er had heard such things;
She deem'd her least command must yield delight,
Earth being only made for queens and kings.
Meanwhile the education they went through
Was princely, as the proofs have always shown:
So that the heir apparent still was found
No less deserving to be hang'd than crown'd.
Lord John Russell's Don Carlos.
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
Hath virgin'd it e'er since.
Shut up—no, not the king, but the pavilion, Or else 'twill cost us all another million.
Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If I profane with my unworthy hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this;
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand,
To smooth the rough touch with a tender kiss.
Shaks. Romeo and Juliet.
Let kings remember they are set on thrones As representatives, not substitutes
Of nations, to implead with God and man.
Oh, covet not the throne and crown,
Sigh not for rule and state:
The wise would fling the sceptre down,
And shun the palace gate.
Ye lowly born, oh, covet not
Unrest the sceptre brings;
The nonest name and peaceful lot
Outweigh the pomp of kings.
e like rose-buds, blown with inen's But went away so cold, the kiss he gave me
oth sap and savour.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Mad Lover.
May I taste
of her lip? I do not give it
t merits: Antiquity is too poor
with a simile t' express her:
often from this living spring,
new invention.
Massinger's Emperor of the East.
Never man before
nor like this kiss hath been another, autics like, met at such closes, isses of two damask roses.
Brown's Pastorals. she sleeps, gods do descend, and kiss; El others breath, but borrow this.
Cartwright's Siege.
aster, though unknown before,
ns fall on parting spring, she strew'd;
ns sweeter, and in number more.
Sir W. Davenant's Gondibert.
alf kisses kill me quite :
n thus served?
mis kisses on my balmy lips, reezes breath'd amidst the groves spices on the height of day.
Behn's Abdelazar.
could I give the world; Ehine, but thus to touch thy lips, ner by the vast exchange. infancy of opening flowers senses in that melting kiss.
Southern's Disappointment.
take is paid by that you give; utual, and I'm still in debt.
Seem'd the forc'd compliment of sated love.
Otway's Orphan.
When men of infamy to grandeur soar,
They light a torch to show their shame the more
Those governments, which curb not evils, cause
Lord Lansdown's Heroic Love. And a rich knave's a libel on our laws.
ile a pleasing kind of smart,
at tingling to my very heart.
gone, the sense of it did stay,
ss cling'd upon my lips all day, honey loth to fall away.
Dryden. her cheek up close, and lean'd on his; whisper'd kisses back on hers.
Dryden's All for Love.
ive for ever on those lips!
f the gods to these is tasteless.
Dryden's Amphitryon.
Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word,
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue;
Not soon provok'd, nor, being provok'd, soon calm'd:
His heart and hand both open, and both free;
For what he has, he gives; what thinks, he shows;
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty,
Nor dignifies an impure thought in breath:
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;
For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes
To tender objects, but he, in heat of action,
Is more vindictive than jealous love.
Base minded they that want intelligence,
For God himself for wisdom most is prais'd,
And men to God thereby are nighest rais'd.
Spenser's Tears of the Muses.
A climbing height it is, without a head,
Depth without bottom, way without an end;
A circle with no line environed,
Not comprehended, all it comprehends,
Worth infinite, yet satisfies no mind
Till it that infinite of the godhead find.
The mind of man is this world's true dimension;
Shaks. Troilus and Cressida. And knowledge is the measure of the mind:
And as the mind, in her vast comprehension,
Contains more worlds than all the world can find;
So knowledge doth itself far more extend,
Than all the minds of man can comprehend.
A lac'd hat, worsted stockings, and - noble old
soul!
A fine ribbon and cross in his breast button-hole;
Just such as our prince, who nor reason nor fun
dreads,
Inflicts, without e'en a court-martial, on hundreds.
Moore's Fudge Family.
My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel:
They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands.
Tennyson's Sir Galahad.
A king can make a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that,—
But an honest man's aboon his might.
These are not the romantic times
So beautiful in Spenser's rhymes,
So dazzling to the dreaming boy,
Ours are the days of fact, not fable,
Of knights, but not of the round table,
Of Bailie Jarvie, not Rob Roy.
Learning is an addition beyond
Nobility or birth: honour of blood,
Without the ornament of knowledge, is
A glorious ignorance.
Applied to my instruction, cannot equal
My own soul's knowledge.
Chapman and Shirley's Admiral of France.
The Almighty wisdom, having given
Each man within himself an apter light
To guide his acts, than any light without him,
Creating nothing, not in all things equal:
It seems a fault in any that depend
On others' knowledge, and exile their own.
Chapman and Shirley's Admiral of France.
Those only may be truly said to know,
Whose knowledge pays their country what they
· Lady Alimony.
Halleck's Poems. Not to know at large of things remote
From use, obscure and subtle, but to know
That which before us lies in daily life,
Is the prime wisdom; what is more, is fume,
Or emptiness, or fond impertinence,
And renders us in things that most concern
Unpractis'd, unprepared, still to seek.
Through knowledge we behold the world's creation,
How in his cradle first he fostered was;
And judge of nature's cunning operation,
How things she formed of a formless mass:
By knowledge we do learn ourselves to know;
And what to ma and what to God we owe.
Remember that the curs'd desire to know,
Offspring of Adam! was thy source of woe,
Why wilt thou then renew the vain pursuit,
And rashly catch at the forbidden fruit;
With empty labour and eluded strife
Seeking, by knowledge, to attain to life;
For ever from that fatal tree debarr'd,
Which flaming swords and angry cherubs guard?
Prior's Soloman.
Voracious learning, often over-fed,
Digests not into sense her motley meal,
This bookcase, with dark booty almost burst,
This forager on others' wisdom, leaves
Her native farm, her reason, quite untill'd.
Young's Night Thoughts.
Your learning, like the lunar beam, affords
Light, but not heat; it leaves you undevout,
Frozen at heart, while speculation shines.
Young's Night Thoughts.
The clouds may drop down titles and estates;
Wealth may seek us, but wisdom must be sought;
Sought before all, but (how unlike all else
We seek on earth!) 'tis never sought in vain,
Young's Night Thoughts.
One science only will one genius fit,
So vast is art, so narrow human wit.
Pope's Essay on Criticism. Man loves knowledge, and the beams of truth More welcome touch his understanding's eye, Than all the blandishments of sound his ear, Than all of taste his tongue.
The wish to know—that endless thirst,
Which ev'n by quenching is awak'd,
And which becomes or blest or curst,
As is the fount whereat 't is slak'd-
Still urg'd me onward, with desire
Insatiate, to explore, inquire.
Moore's Loves of the Angels
O wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An foolish notion:
Knowledge hath a 'wildering tongue, And she will stoop and lead you to the stars, And witch you with her mysteries— till gold Is a forgotten dross, and power and fame Toys of an hour, and woman's careless love Light as the breath that breaks it.
Cheer'd with the view, man went to till the ground | What living man will bring a gift
From whence he rose; sentenc'd indeed to toil,
As to a punishment, yet (c'en in wrath
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Oft did the harvest to the sickle yield,
Their harrow oft the stubborn glebe hath broke;
How jocund did they drive their teams afield,
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Gray's Elegy.
From labour health, from health contentment
springs.
Beattie's Minstrel.
What happiness the rural maid attends,
In cheerful labour while each day she spends!
She gratefully receives what Heaven has sent,
And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.
She never feels the spleen's imagin'd pains,
Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins;
She never loses life in thoughtless case,
Nor on the velvet couch invites disease;
Her homespun dress in simple neatness lies,
And for no glaring equipage she sighs:
No midnight masquerade her beauty wears,
And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs.
Gay.
Here sun-brown'd Labour swings his Cyclop arms,
Long are the furrows he must trace between
The ocean's azure and the prairie's green;
Full many a blank his destin'd realm displays,
Yet see the promise of his riper days;
Far through yon depths the panting engine moves,
His chariot's ringing in their steel-shod grooves;
And Erie's naiad flings her diamond wave
O'er the wild sea-nymph in her distant cave.
O. W. Holmes.
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Of his own heart, and help to lift
The tune?" The race is to the swift!"
Miss Barrett's Poems.
What are we sent on earth for? Say, to toil!
Nor seek to leave the tending of thy vines
For all the heat o' the sun, till it declines,
And death's mild curfew shall from work assoil
Miss Barrett's Poems.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
Longfellow's Poems High curl'd the smoke from the humble roof with dawning's earliest bird,
And the tinkle of the anvil, first of the village sounds was heard;
The bellows-puff, the hammer-beat, the whistle and the song,
Told, steadfastly and merrily, toil roll'd the hours along. Street's Poems
-Give me the fair one, in country or city,
Whose home and its duties are dear to her heart,
Who cheerfully warbles some rustical ditty,
While plying the needle with exquisite art.
Samuel Woodworth
"Labour is worship”—the robin is singing:
"Labour is worship” — the wild bee is ringing.
Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing,
Speaks to thy soul out of nature's great heart.
Mrs. Osgood's Poems.
Labour is life!-'Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;
Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth
Mrs. Osgood's Poems
Labour is rest-from the sorrows that greet us
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us,
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us,
Rest from world-syrens that lure us to ill.
Mrs. Osgood's Poems.
Labour is health-Lo! the husbandman reaping,
How through his veins goes the life-current leap
ing!
How his strong arm in its stalwart pride sweeping,
True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides.
Mrs. Osgood's Poems.
Here, brothers, secure from all turmoil and danger,
We reap what we sow, for the soil is our own;
We spread hospitality's board for the stranger,
And care not a fig for the king on his throne;
We never know want, for we live by our labour,
And in it contentment and happiness find.
George P. Morris.
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