The Clouds consign their treasures to the fields,And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool,Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flowIn large effusion, o'er the freshened world.The Seasons: Spring. J. THOMSON.
A step,A single step, that freed me from the skirtsOf the blind vapor, opened to my viewGlory beyond all glory ever seenBy waking sense or by the dreaming soul!The appearance, instantaneously disclosedWas of a mighty city,—boldly sayA wilderness of building, sinking farAnd self-withdrawn into a boundless depth,Far sinking into splendor,—without end!Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold,With alabaster domes, and silver spires,And blazing terrace upon terrace, highUplifted; here, serene pavilions bright,In avenues disposed; there, towers begirtWith battlements that on their restless frontsBore stars,—illumination of all gems!The Excursion, Bk. II. W. WORDSWORTH.
See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloftSo tenderly by the wind, floats fast awayOver the snowy peaks!Christus: The Golden Legend. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
Dear little head, that lies in calm contentWithin the gracious hollow that God madeIn every human shoulder, where He meantSome tired head for comfort should be laid.Song. C. THAXTER.
MenCan counsel and speak comfort to that griefWhich they themselves not feel.Much Ado About Nothing, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
"What is good for a bootless bene?"With these dark words begins my tale;And their meaning is, Whence can comfort springWhen Prayer is of no avail?Force of Prayer. W. WORDSWORTH.
And He that doth the ravens feed,Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,Be comfort to my age!As You, Like It, Act ii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing,Hope, and comfort from above;Let us each, thy peace possessing,Triumph in redeeming love.Benediction. R.S. HAWKER.
Current among men,Like coin, the tinsel clink of compliment.The Princess, Pt. II. A. TENNYSON.
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air,Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.Faustus. C. MARLOWE.
The sweetest garland to the sweetest maid.To a Lady; with a Present of Flowers. T. TICKELL.
When he shall die,Take him and cut him out in little stars,And he will make the face of heaven so fine,That all the world will be in love with night,And pay no worship to the garish sun.Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.Sonnet XVIII. SHAKESPEARE.
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!The Bride of Abydos, Canto II. LORD BYRON.
Those curious locks so aptly twinedWhose every hair a soul doth bind.Think not 'cause men flattering say. T. CAREW.
And beauty draws us with a single hair.Rape of the Lock, Canto II. A. POPE.
When you do dance, I wish youA wave o' th' sea, that you might ever doNothing but that.Winter's Tale, Act iv. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
Some asked me where the Rubies grew,And nothing I did say,But with my finger pointed toThe lips of Julia.The Rock of Rubies, and the Quarrie of Pearls. R. HERRICK.
Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,Full and fair ones,—Come and buy;If so be you ask me whereThey do grow, I answer, there,Where my Julia's lips do smile,There's the land, or cherry-isle.Cherry Ripe. R. HERRICK.
Where none admire, 'tis useless to excel;Where none are beaux, 'tis vain to be a belle.Soliloquy on a Beauty in the Country. LORD LYTTLETON.
Banish all compliments but single truth.Faithful Shepherdess. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
What honor that,But tedious waste of time, to sit and hearSo many hollow compliments and lies.Paradise Regained. MILTON.
'Twas never merry worldSince lowly feigning was called compliment.Twelfth Night, Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
'Tis with our judgments as our watches, noneGo just alike, yet each believes his own.Essay on Criticism, Pt. I. A. POPE.
To observations which ourselves we make,We grow more partial for the observer's sake.Moral Essays, Epistle I. A. POPE.
In men this blunder still you find,All think their little set mankind.Florio, Pt. I. HANNAH MORE.
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.Hamlet, Actiii.Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Whatever creed be taught or land be trod,Man's conscience is the oracle of God.The Island, Canto I. LORD BYRON.
Oh, Conscience! Conscience! man's most faithful friend,Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend;But if he will thy friendly checks forego,Thou art, oh! woe for me, his deadliest foe!Struggles of Conscience. G. CRABBE.
Conscience is harder than our enemies,Knows more, accuses with more nicety.Spanish Gypsy. GEORGE ELIOT.
Of a' the ills that flesh can fear,The loss o' frien's, the lack o' gear,A yowlin' tyke, a glandered mear,A lassie's nonsense—There's just ae thing I cannae bear,An' that's my conscience.My Conscience. R.L. STEVENSON.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,And every tongue brings in a several tale,And every tale condemns me for a villain.K. Richard III., Act v. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
Why should not Conscience have vacationAs well as other courts o' th' nation?Have equal power to adjourn,Appoint appearance and return?Hudibras, Pt. II. Canto II. S. BUTLER.
Soft, I did but dream.O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!K. Richard III., Act v. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
Let his tormentor conscience find him out.Paradise Regained, Bk. IV. MILTON.
Speak no more:Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;And there I see such black and grainèd spotsAs will not leave their tinct.Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind:The thief doth fear each bush an officer.K. Richard II., Act v. Sc. 6. SHAKESPEARE.
Leave her to Heaven,And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,To prick and sting her.Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.
Consideration, like an angel, cameAnd whipped the offending Adam out of him.K. Henry V., Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
True, conscious Honor is to feel no sin,He's armed without that's innocent within;Be this thy screen, and this thy wall of Brass.First Book of Horace, Epistle I. A. POPE.
I know myself now; and I feel within meA peace above all earthly dignities;A still and quiet conscience.K. Henry VIII., Act iii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
A quiet conscience makes one so serene!Christians have burnt each other, quite persuadedThat all the Apostles would have done as they did.Don Juan, Canto I. LORD BYRON.
All is, if I have grace to use it so,As ever in my Great Task-Master's eye.On being arrived at his Three-and-Twentieth Year. MILTON.
And sure the eternal Master foundHis single talent well employed.Verses on Robert Levet. DR. S. JOHNSON.
With silence only as their benediction,God's angels comeWhere in the shadow of a great affliction,The soul sits dumb!To my Friend on the Death of his Sister.J.G. WHITTIER.
And, as she looked around, she saw how Death the consoler,Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.Evangeline. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
Sprinkled along the waste of yearsFull many a soft green isle appears:Pause where we may upon the desert road,Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode.The Christian Year. The First Sunday in Advent.J. KEBLE.
O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes!O drooping souls, whose destiniesAre fraught with fear and pain,Ye shall be loved again.Endymion. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
Love is indestructible:Its holy flame forever burneth:From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth;
* * * * *
It soweth here with toil and care,But the harvest-time of Love is there.Curse of Kehama, Canto X. R. SOUTHEY.
O heaven! were manBut constant, he were perfect. That one errorFills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins:Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act v. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
They sin who tell us Love can die:With Life all other passions fly,All others are but vanity.Curse of Kehama, Canto X. R. SOUTHEY.
Doubt thou the stars are fire,Doubt that the sun doth move;Doubt truth to be a liar.But never doubt I love.Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
When love begins to sicken and decay,It useth an enforcèd ceremony.There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.Julius Cæsar, Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
You say to me-wards your affection's strong;Pray love me little, so you love me long.Love me little, love me long. R. HERRICK.
When change itself can give no more,'Tis easy to be true.Reasons for Constancy. SIR C. SEDLEY.
If ever thou shalt love,In the sweet pangs of it remember me;For such as I am all true lovers are,Unstaid and skittish in all motions else.Save in the constant image of the creatureThat is beloved.Twelfth Night, Act ii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
I could be well moved if I were as you;If I could pray to move, prayers would move me;But I am constant as the northern star,Of whose true fixed and resting qualityThere is no fellow in the firmament.Julius Cæsar, Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;Whom neither hopes deceive, nor fears torment,But lives at peace, within himself content;In thought, or act, accountable to noneBut to himself, and to the gods alone.Epistle to Mrs. Higgons. LORD LANSDOWNE.
Yes! in the poor man's garden grow,Far more than herbs and flowers,Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind,And joy for weary hours.The Poor Man's Garden. M. HOWITT.
Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf,Not one will change his neighbor with himself.Essay on Man, Epistle II. A. POPE.
Poor and content is rich and rich enough,But riches, fineless, is as poor as winterTo him that ever fears he shall be poor.Othello, Act iii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
From labor health, from health contentment spring;Contentment opes the source of every joy.The Minstrel, Bk. I. J. BEATTIE.
What happiness the rural maid attends,In cheerful labor while each day she spends!She gratefully receives what Heaven has sent,And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.Rural Sports, Canto II. J. GAY.
My crown is in my heart, not on my head;Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,Nor to be seen: my crown is called content;A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.K. Henry VI., Pt. III. Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Shut upIn measureless content.Macbeth, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind.The Odyssey, Bk. XV. HOMER.Trans. ofPOPE.
With good and gentle-humored heartsI choose to chat where'er I come,Whate'er the subject be that starts.But if I get among the glumI hold my tongue to tell the truthAnd keep my breath to cool my broth.Careless Content. LORD BYRON.
But conversation, choose what theme we may,And chiefly when religion leads the way,Should flow, like waters after summer show'rs,Not as if raised by mere mechanic powers.Conversation. W. COWPER.
In general those who nothing have to sayContrive to spend the longest time in doing it.An Oriental Apologue. J.R. LOWELL.
There's nothing in this world can make me joy.Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.King John, Act iii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
Think all you speak; but speak not all you think:Thoughts are your own; your words are so no more.Epigram. H. DELAUNE.
Words learned by rote a parrot may rehearse,But talking is not always to converse,Not more distinct from harmony divineThe constant creaking of a country sign.Conversation. W. COWPER.
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth,When thought is speech, and speech is truth.Marmion, Canto II. SIR W. SCOTT.
They never taste who always drink;They always talk who never think.Upon a Passage in the Scaligerana. M. PRIOR.
And, when you stick on conversation's burrs,Don't strew your pathway with those dreadfulurs.Urania. O.W. HOLMES.
KING RICHARD. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.QUEEN ELIZABETH. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.King Richard III., Act iv. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
O, many a shaft, at random sent,Finds mark the archer little meant!And many a word, at random spoken,May soothe, or wound, a heart that's broken!Lord of the Isles, Canto V. SIR W. SCOTT.
A man in all the world's new fashion planted,That hath a mint of phrases in his brain.Love's Labor's Lost, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
In his brain—Which is as dry as the remainder biscuitAfter a voyage—he hath strange places crammedWith observation, the which he ventsIn mangled forms.As You Like it, Act ii. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE.
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,I will be brief.Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
And I oft have heard defended,Little said is soonest mended.The Shepherd's Hunting. G. WITHER.
Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear.Venus and Adonis. SHAKESPEARE.
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,That aged ears play truant at his tales,And younger hearings are quite ravished,So sweet and voluble is his discourse.Love's Labor's Lost, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Or light or dark, or short or tall,She sets a springe to snare them all:All's one to her—above her fanShe'd make sweet eyes at Caliban.Quatrains. Coquette. T.B. ALDRICH.
Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No."And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ingOn a lee-shore, till it begins to blow,Then sees your heart wrecked, with an inward scoffing.Don Juan, Canto XII. LORD BYRON.
And still she sits, young while the earth is oldAnd, subtly of herself contemplative,Draws men to watch the bright net she can weave,Till heart and body and life are in its hold.Lilith. D.G. ROSSETTI.
How happy could I be with either,Were t' other dear charmer away!But while ye thus tease me together,To neither a word will I say.Beggar's Opera, Act ii. Sc. 2. J. GAY.
Ye belles, and ye flirts, and ye pert little things,Who trip in this frolicsome round,Pray tell me from whence this impertinence springs,The sexes at once to confound?Song for Ranelagh. P. WHITEHEAD.
America! half brother of the world!With something good and bad of every laud.Festus: Sc. The Surface. P.J. BAILEY.
Hail Columbia! happy land!Hail ye heroes, heaven-born band!Who fought and bled in freedom's cause,Who fought and bled in freedom's cause,And when the storm of war was gone,Enjoyed the peace your valor won!Let independence be our boast,Ever mindful what it cost;Ever grateful for the prize,Let its altar reach the skies.Firm—united—let us be,Rallying round our liberty:As a band of brothers joined,Peace and safety we shall find.Hail Columbia. J. HOPKINSON.
Around I seeThe powers that be;I stand by Empire's primal springs;And princes meetIn every street,And hear the tread of uncrowned kings!
* * * * *
Not lightly fallBeyond recallThe written scrolls a breath can float;The crowning factThe kingliest actOf Freedom is the freeman's vote!The Eve of Election. J.G. WHITTIER.
Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as a doorstepInto 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 seesNor 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 eyesFamiliar 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 herselfAgainst 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 tongueThat Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals holdWhich Milton held. In everything we are sprungOf earth's first blood, have titles manifold.National Independence, Sonnet XVI. W. WORDSWORTH.
Heaven (that hath placed this island to give lawTo 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 designedTo 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 thoughtHath 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 handCan 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 ScotsFrae 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 screenDid 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 hastThe fatal gift of beauty, which becameA 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 maliceLost her Calais):Open my heart, and you will seeGraved inside of it, "Italy."De Gustibus. R. BROWNING.
Courage, the highest gift, that scorns to bendTo 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 excessThan 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,—LADY MACBETH. We 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 nervesShall 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 muchWe 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 wellThat Cæsar is more dangerous than he.We are two lions littered in one day,And I the elder and more terrible.Julius Cæsar, 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, nowLeap 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 Cæsar, 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 deedIs in our power; and therefore who dares greatlyDoes 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 spiritIn 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.B. STILLINGFLEET.
What is dangerMore than the weakness of our apprehensions?A poor cold part o' th' blood. Who takes it hold of?Cowards and wicked livers: valiant mindsWere made the masters of it.Chances. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
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 braveLove 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.
HeThat 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 fightBut when her humorous ladyship is byTo teach thee safety!King John, Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
For he who fights and runs awayMay live to fight another day;But he who is in battle slainCan 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 Cæsar, Act ii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer.Childe Harold, Canto III. LORD BYRON.
But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fastTo 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 stiffAs 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 callTheir belief a believing in nothing at all,Or something of that sort; I know they all wentFor a general union of total dissent.A Fable for Critics. J.R. LOWELL.
We are our own fates. Our own deedsAre our doomsmen. Man's life was madeNot 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 earthIs registered in Heaven; and these no doubtHave 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 soverywhite.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.E. WALLER.
Vex not thou the poet's mindWith 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 roadCrooked 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 goodHe 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 heaptFor 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 warMy 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 customMore honored in the breach, than the observance.Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
Day!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 breakOur 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 exquisiteFor 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 headMust lie as low as ours.A Funeral Thought, Bk. II. Hymn 63. DR. I. WATTS.
Comes at the last, and with a little pinBores 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 endureTheir 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 timeAnd drawing days out, that men stand upon.Julius Cæsar, 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 Cæsar, 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 menEnforce 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 fateIs privileged beyond the common walkOf virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.Night Thoughts. Night II. DR. E. YOUNG.
Nothing in his lifeBecame 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 accountWith all my imperfections on my head.Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
With mortal crisis doth portendMy 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 roseI 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 spiteAt 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 dustBurn to the socket.The Excursion, Bk. IW. 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 hourIs 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 mournerFly 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 allWho 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 blessèd 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 fixedHis 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 lieIn 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.Faërie 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 damnèd 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 tryBy sleeping what it is to die,And as gently lay my headOn my grave as now my bed.Religio Medici, Pt. II. Sec. 12. SIR T. BROWNE.
Death in itself is nothing; but we fearTo 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 witnessIs 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 damnèd error, but some sober browWill 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 worldBut those who slide along the grassy sod.And sting the luckless foot that presses them?There are who in the path of social lifeDo 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. ofBRYANT.
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 remainsTo work in close design, by fraud or guile,What force effected not; that he no lessAt length from us may find, who overcomesBy 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 beThe 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 sunViews 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 manWould do.Saul, XVIII. R. BROWNING.
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 issueAre 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, famousèd 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.Sonnet XXV. SHAKESPEARE.
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 dieIn 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 spiritThat 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 worldHave so incensed, that I am reckless whatI 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 powerTo 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 usIn 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 sheSheds 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 budsWas 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 clingingTo the rose just newly born.Mary of Argyle. C. JEFFREYS.
An hostInnumerable as the stars of night,Or stars of morning, dewdrops, which the sunImpearls 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 nearWe 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 fateTo have all feelings, save the one, decay,And every passion into one dilate.Lament of Tasso. LORD BYRON.
Alas! the breast that inly bleedsHath naught to dread from outward blow:Who falls from all he knows of blissCares 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 watchedBefore 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 toilOf 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'STrans.
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.Sonnet XC. SHAKESPEARE.
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 sortAs if he mocked himself and scorned his spiritThat could be moved to smile at anything.Julius Cæsar, 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 appearMore 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 surveyThe 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 fellFrom heaven they fabled, thrown by angry JoveSheer o'er the crystal battlements; from mornTo noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,A summer's day; and with the setting sunDropt from the zenith like a falling star.Paradise Lost, Bk. I. MILTON.