Nay, move not thus the least,
You have you long have had"-"Say on, Sweet girl! thy heart?". -"Your foot upon
The flounce of my battiste."
And with the fervour of a lip unus'd To the cool breath of reason, told my love.
He that suffers Prosperity to swell him 'bove a mean; Like those impressions 'n the air, that rise From dunghill vapours, scatter'd by the wind, Leaves nothing but an empty name behind. Nabb's Hannibal and Scipio.
Whither my heart is gone, there follows my hand, Of both our fortunes, good and bad, we find Prosperity more searching of the mind: For where the heart goes before, like a lamp, and Felicity flies o'er the wall and fence,
ill nines the pathway, Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden
The pale hearts of the silver stars Throb too, as mine to thee Al things delight in love, lady, Why not we?
While misery keeps in with patience.
And when our children turn the page,
T. Buchanan Read. To ask what triumphs mark'd our age- What we achiev'd to challenge praise, Through the long line of future days This let them read, and hence instruction draw: "Here were the many bless'd,
Prosperity's the very bond of love,
Whose fresn complexion, and whose heart together, Affliction alter.
Here found the virtues rest,
Faith link'd with Love, and Liberty with Law. Sprague's Centennial Ode.
And is there care in heaven? and is there love In heavenly spirits to the creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move? There is; else much more wretched were the case Of men than beasts. But O! th' exceeding grace Of highest God that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels he sends to and fro
Who is it, that will doubt
The care of heaven; or think th' immortal Pow'rs are slow, 'cause they take the privilege To choose their own time, when they will send their Blessings down.
Sir W. Davenant's Fair Favourite. "T is the curse of mighty minds oppress'd, To think what their state is, and what it should
To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe! Impatient of their lot, they reason fiercely,
How oft do they their silver bowers leave To come to succour us that succour want? How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant, Against foul fiends to aid us militant? They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us plant; And all for love, and nothing for reward:
O why should heavenly God to men have such re- gard! Spenser's Fairy Queen. Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well; When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach
In thy large book what secrets are enroll'd! What sundry helps doth thy great power assign, To prop the course which thou intend'st to hold? What mortal sense is able to define Thy mysteries, thy counsels many fold? It is thy wisdom strangely that extends Obscure proceedings to apparent ends. Drayton's Baron's Wars.
Wisdom and virtue be The only destinies set for a man to follow. The heavenly pow'rs are to be reverenc'd, Not search'd into; their mercies rather be By humble prayers to be sought, than their Hidden councils by curiosity. Baron's Mirza.
And call the laws of Providence unequal.
The ways of heaven are dark and intricate, Puzzled in mazes, and perplex'd with errors; Our understanding traces them in vain, Lost and bewilder'd in the fruitless search; Nor sees with how much art the windings run, Nor where the regular confusion ends.
All nature is but art unknown to thee; All chance direction, which thou canst not see;
| All discord harmony not understood; All partial evil universal good:
And spite of pride, in crring reason's spite, One truth is clear, whatever is, is right.
Pope's Essay on Man. This is thy work, Almighty Providence! Whose power, beyond the reach of human thought, Revolves the orbs of empire; bids them sink Or rise majestic o'er a wondering world. Deep in the dead'ning night of thy displeasure,
Thomson's Coriolanus. The gods take pleasure oft, when haughty mortals On their own pride erect a mighty fabric, By slightest means, to lay their towering schemes Low in the dust, and teach them they are nothing. Thomson's Coriolanus. Wondrous chance!
Or rather wondrous conduct of the gods! By mortals, from their blindness, chance misnam'd. Thomson's Agamemnon.
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