Do not hang your house round with tablets and pictures, but with the beauty of temperance. EPICTETUS IN banquets remember that you entertain two guests, body and soul. EPICTETUS A MERRY heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones. Proverbs of Solomon ALWAY be merry if thou may, Romaunt of the Rose A GARDEN is a lovesome thing, God wot! Rose plot, Fringed pool, Ferned grot The veriest school Of peace; and yet the fool Contends that God is not— Not God in gardens! when the eve is cool? Nay, but I have a sign: 'Tis very sure God walks in mine. T. E. BROWN Wishes O little book, and wish to all Go Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall, A bin of wine, a spice of wit, A house with lawns enclosing it, A living river by the door, A nightingale in the sycamore. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON I The Wine of Life HAVE often thought that, as longevity is gener ally desired, and I believe generally expected, it would be wise to be continually adding to the number of our friends, that the loss of some may be supplied by others. Friendship, the wine of life,' should like a well-stocked cellar be thus continually renewed; and it is consolatory to think that although we can seldom add what will equal the generous first-growths of our youth, yet friendship becomes insensibly old in much less time than is commonly imagined, and not many years are required to make it very mellow and pleasant. Warmth will, no doubt, TO MR. LAWRENCE make a considerable difference. Men of affectionate temper and bright fancy will coalesce a great deal sooner than those who are cold and dull. The proposition which I have now endeavoured to illustrate was, at a subsequent period of his life, the opinion of Johnson himself. He said to Sir Joshua Reynolds, 'If a man does not make new acquaintance as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, Sir, should keep his friendship in constant repair.' JAMES BOSWELL To Mr. Lawrence LAWRENCE of vertuous Father vertuous Son, Now that the Fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help wast a sullen day; what may be won From the hard Season gaining: time will run On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire The frozen earth; and cloth in fresh attire The Lillie and Rose, that neither sow'd nor spun. What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attick tast, with Wine, whence we may rise To hear the Lute well toucht, or artfull voice Warble immortal Notes and Tuskan Ayre? He who of those delights can judge, and spare To interpose them oft, is not unwise. JOHN MILTON THE HOLY TIDE To Cyriack Skinner CYRIACK, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench Of Brittish Themis, with no mean applause Pronounc't and in his volumes taught our Lawes, Which others at their Barr so often wrench : To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench In mirth, that after no repenting drawes; Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause, And what the Swede intend, and what the French To measure life, learn thou betimes, and know Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. JOHN MILTON The Holy Tide HE days are sad, it is the Holy tide: THE The Winter morn is short, the Night is long; So let the lifeless Hours be glorified With deathless thoughts and echo'd in sweet song: And through the sunset of this purple cup They will resume the roses of their prime, And the old Dead will hear us and wake up, Pass with dim smiles and make our hearts sublime! |