A Complete Dictionary of Poetical Quotations

How sad and dismal sound the farewells which Poor lovers take, whom destiny disjoins, Although they know their absence will be short: And when they meet again, how musical

And sweet are all the mutual joys they breathe!
Like birds, who when they see the weary sun
Forsake the world, they lay their little heads
Beneath their wings, to ease that weight which his
Departure adds unto their grief.

'Tis true, my love: But when they see that bright
Perpetual traveller return, they warm
And air their feathers at his beams, and sing
Until their gratitude hath made them hoarse.

Sir W. Davenant's Platonic Lovers.

My eyes won't lose the sight of thee,
But languish after thine, and ache with gazing.
Otway's Venice Preserved.
In taking leave,

Thro' the dark lashes of her darting eyes,
Methought she shot her soul at ev'ry glance,
Still looking back, as if she had a mind
That you should know she left her soul behind her.
Lee's Theodosius.

Oh! had he ever lov'd, he would have thought
The worst of tortures bliss, to silent parting.
Cibber's Cæsar in Egypt.
Farewell, my home, my home no longer now,
Witness of many a calm and happy day;
And thou, fair eminence, upon whose brow
Dwells the last sunshine of the evening ray.
Farewell! Mine eyes no longer shall pursue
The westering sun beyond the utmost height,
When slowly he forsakes the fields of light.
No more the freshness of the falling dew,
Cool and delightful here shall bathe my head,
As from this western window dear, I lean,
Listening the while I watch the placid scene,-
The martins twittering underneath the shed.
Farewell my home, where many a day has past,
In joys whose lov'd remembrance long shall last.
Southey.
Well-peace to thy heart, though another's it be,
And health to thy cheek, though it bloom not for
Moore.

me.

Farewell to the few I have left with regret;
May they sometimes recall what I cannot forget,
That communion of heart and that parley of soul,
Which has lengthen'd our nights, and illumined
our bowl!
Moore

Enough, that we are parted that there rolls
Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee
A flood of headlong fate between our souls,
As hell from heaven, to all eternity!

Moore's, Lalla Rookh.

Then came the parting hour, and what arise
When lovers part! expressive looks, and eyes
Tender and tearful,-many a fond adieu,
And many a call the sorrow to renew;
Sighs such as lovers only can explain,
And words that they might undertake in vain.
Crabbe's Hall

Bear witness earth and heaven,
That ne'er was hope to mortal given,
So twisted with. the strings of life,
As this-to call Matilda wife;
I bid it now for ever part,
And with the effort bursts my heart.

She rose-she sprung-she clung to his embrace, | They tell me 't is decided; you depart:

Till his heart heaved beneath her hidden face.
He dared not raise to his that deep blue eye,
That downcast droop'd in tearless agony.
Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his arms,
In all the wildness of dishevell'd charms;
Scarce beat that bosom where his image dwelt
So full-that feeling seem'd almost unfelt!
Hark! peals the thunder of the signal gun!
It told 't was sunset, and he cursed that sun.
Again-again-that form he madly press'd,
Which mutely clasp'd, imploringly caress'd;
And tottering to the couch, his bride he bore-
One moment gazed as if to gaze no more;
Felt that for him earth held but her alone,
Kiss'd her cold forehead-turn'd-is Conrad gone?
Byron's Corsair.

"Tis wise, 'tis well, but not the less a pain;
I have no further claim on your young heart,
Mine is the victim, and would be again;
To love too much has been the only art
I used;
-I write in haste, and if a stain
Be on this sheet, 'tis not what it appears,
My eye-balls burn and throb, but have no tears.

Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And whatever sky's above me,
Here's a heart for every fate.

Why do I weep? to leave the vine
Whose clusters o'er me bend
The myrtle-yet oh! call it mine!-
The flowers I lov'd to tend.
A thousand thoughts of all things dear,
Like shadows o'er me sleep,

I leave my sunny childhood here —
Oh, therefore let me weep!

I have no parting sigh to give,
So take my parting smile.

Byron.

Mrs. Hemans.

Miss Landon.

Lightly won, and lightly lost, love I shed no tears
for thee;

There was little to remember, and nothing to
regret.
Miss Landon.
When thou art gone there creeps into my heart
A cold and bitter consciousness of pain;
The light, the warmth of life with thee depart,
And I sit dreaming o'er and o'er again
Thy greeting clasp, thy parting look and tone;
And suddenly I wake-and am alone!

Frances Kemble Butler.
There are two hearts whose movements thrill
In unison so closely sweet!
That pulse to pulse responsive still,

They both must heave -or cease to beat.
Bernard Barton.

There are two souls whose equal flow
In gentle streams so calmly run,
That when they part- they part!-ah, no!
They cannot part-those souls are one.
Bernard Barton.

We part no matter how we part,
There are some thoughts we utter not,
Deep treasur'd in our inmost heart,

Never reveal'd, and ne'er forgot!
Why murmur at the common lot?
We part― I speak not of the pain,-
But when shall I each lovely spot,
And each lov'd face behold again.

Richard Henry Wilde.

Long years have gone by, yet that parting, oh! Who would the title of true worth were his,

never

Can it be forgotten by either on earth.

The note of each wild bird that carols toward heaven

Must tell her of swift-wing'd hopes that were mine,

Must vanquish vice, and no base thoughts con

ceive:

The bravest trophy ever man obtain'd,

Is that, which, o'er himself, himself hath gain'd.
Earl of Sterline's Darius.
Passions are likened best to floods and streams;

While the dew that steals over each blossom at The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb:

even

Tells me of the teardrop that wept their decline.
Hoffman's Poems.

I must leave thee, lady sweet!
Months shall waste before we meet,
Winds are fair, and sails are spread,
Anchors leave their ocean bed;
Ere this shining day grow dark,
Skies shall gird my shoreless bark;
Through thy tears, O lady mine,
Read thy lover's parting line.

So when affections yield discourse, it seems
The bottom is but shallow whence they come.
They that are rich in words must needs discover,
They are but poor in that which makes a lover.
Sir W. Raleigh.

When headstrong passion gets the reins of reason,
The force of nature, like too strong a gale,
For want of ballast, oversets the vessel.

Higgons's Generous Conqueror.
Exalted souls

Have passions in proportion violent,

O. W. Holmes. Resistless, and tormenting: they're a tax
Impos'd by nature on pre-eminence;

Yet not sever'd we, though parted,
Still in truth our souls are one,
Though on earth the gentle-hearted
Hath her blessed mission done.

Duganne.

But then to part! to part when Time
Has wreathed his tireless wings with flowers,
And spread the richness of a clime

Of fairy o'er this land of ours.
When glistening leaves and shaded streams
In the soft light of autumn lay,
And, like the music of our dreams,

The viewless breezes seem'd to stray'Twas bitter then to rend the heart

With the sad thought that we must part:
And, like some low and mournful spell,
To whisper but one word—farewell.

Park Benjamin.

And fortitude, and wisdom must support them.
Lillo's Elmerick.

While passions glow, the heart, like heated steel,
Takes each impression, and is worked at pleasure.
Young's Busiris.
When reason, like the skilful charioteer,
Can break the fiery passions to the bit,
And, spite of their licentious sallies, keep
The radiant tract of glory; passions, then,
Are aids and ornaments. Triumphant reason,
Firm in her seat, and swift in her career,
Enjoys their violence, and, smiling, thanks
Their formidable flame, for bright renown.
Young's Brothers.

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

Pope

The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules,
Uncheck'd by reason and the pow'rful voice
Of friendship.

Brooke's Earl of Warwick

Moore's Loves of the Angels Alas! our young affections run to waste, Or water but the desert; whence arise But weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste, Rank at the core though tempting to the eyes, Flowers, whose wild odours breathe but agonies, And trees, whose gums are poison; such the plants Which spring beneath her steps as passion flies O'er the world's wilderness, and vainly pants For some celestial fruit, forbidden to our wants. Byron's Childe Harold. An empire thou could'st crush, command, rebuild, But govern not thy pettiest passion.

Byron's Childe Harold. My passions were all living serpents, and Twin'd, like the gorgons, round me.

Byron's Werner.

I cannot love as I have lov'd,
And yet I know not why;
It is the one great woe of life
To feel all feeling die;

As one by one the heartstrings snap,
As age comes on so chill;

And hope seems left that hope may cease
And all will soon be still.

And the strong passions, like to storms, Soon rage themselves to rest,

Or leave a desolated calm

A worn and wasted breast;
A heart that like the Geyser spring,
Amidst its bosom snows,

May shrink, not restBoils even in repose.

- but with its blood

Bailey's Festus.
Passion, when deep, is still: the glaring eye
That reads its enemy with glance of fire,
The lip, that curls and writhes in bitterness,
The brow contracted, till its wrinkles hide
The keen, fix'd orbs, that burn and flash below,
The hand firm clench'd and quivering, and the foot
Planted in attitude to spring, and dart
Its vengeance, are the language it employs.
Percival's Poems.

One passion prominent appears, the lust
Of power, which ofttimes took the fairer namie

Of liberty, and hung the popular flag

Of freedom out.

Pollock's Course of Time. When thou art with me every sense is dull, And all I am, or know, or feel, is thee; My soul grows faint, my veins run liquid flame, And my bewilder'd spirit seems to swim In eddying whirls of passion dizzily.

Frances Kemble Butler. Oh! precious is the flower that passion brings To his first shrine of beauty, when the heart Runs over in devotion, and no art Checks the free gush of the wild lay he sings; But the rapt eye and the impetuous thought Declare the pure affection.

Simms's Grouped Thoughts.

The wildest ills that darken life
Are rapture to the bosom's strife;
The tempest, in its blackest form,
Is beauty to the bosom's storm.

J. W. Eastburn. And underneath that face, like summer's ocean's, Its lip as moveless, and its cheek as clear, Slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotions, Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrow-all save fear. Halleck's Poems.

In thy breast there springs a poison fountain, Deadlier than that where breathes the Upas tree. Halleck's Poems.

To thought's tumultuous flow

I strive to give the strength of glowing words; The waves of feeling, tossing to and fro,

In broken music o'er my heart's loose chords, Give but their fainting echoes from my soul, As through its silent depths their wild, swift currents roll. Mrs. Welby's Poems. Oh! Passion's words are faithless things, And Love disowns them ere they fall; It is the reckless tongue that stings, The tongue that knows not Reason's thrall.

PATIENCE.

Mrs. Osgood.

Patience, unmov'd, no marvel tho' she pause;
(They can be meek, that have no other cause ;)
A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity,
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry;

But were we burden'd with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain.
Shaks. Comedy of Errors.

How poor are they, that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?

Shaks. Othello.
Patience, my lord! why 't is the soul of peace:
Of all the virtues 't is the nearest kin to heaven;
It makes men look like gods: the best of men
That e'er wore earth about him, was a sufferer,
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,
The first true gentleman that ever breath'd.

Decker.

Patience in cowards is tame hopeless fear;
But in brave minds, a scorn of what they bear.
Sir R. Howard's Indian Queen.

Many are the sayings of the wise,
In ancient and in modern books enroll'd,
Extolling patience as the truest fortitude;
And to the bearing well of all calamities,
All chances incident to man's frail life,
Consolitaries writ,

With studied argument, and much persuasion sought,

Lenient of grief and anxious thought:

But with th' afflicted in his pangs their sound
Little prevails, or rather seems a tune

Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint;

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But patience is the virtue of an ass,
That trots beneath his burden, and is quiet.
Lansdowne's Heroic Love.

Preach patience to the sea, when jarring winds
Throw up her swelling billows to the sky!
And if your reasons mitigate her fury,
My soul will be as calm.

Smith's Princess of Parma

As the pent water of a mill-dam lies
Motionless, yielding, noiseless, and serene,
Patience waits meekly with compassion'd eyes;
Or, like the speck-cloud, which alone is seen
Silver'd within blue space, ling'ring for air
On which to sail prophetic voyages;

Or as the fountain stone that doth not wear,
But suits itself to pressure, and with ease
Diverts the dropping crystal; or the wife
That sits beside her husband, and her love
Subliming to another state and life,
Off'ring him consolation as a dove-
Her sighs and tears, her heartache, and her mind
Devout, untir'd, calm, precious, and resign'd.

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A Complete Dictionary of Poetical Quotations: Comprising the Most Excellent ...