Forty thousand brothersCould not, with all their quantity of love,Make up my sum.Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Love, then, hath every bliss in store;'Tis friendship, and 'tis something more.Each other every wish they give;Not to know love is not to live.Plutus, Cupid, and Time. J. GAY.
Sweet to entranceThe raptured soul by intermingling glance.Psyche. MRS. M. TIGHE.
Our souls sit close and silently within,And their own web from their own entrails spin;And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.Marriage à la Mode, Act ii. Sc. 1. J. DRYDEN.
Of all the paths [that] lead to a woman's lovePity's the straightest.Knight of Malta, Act i. Sc. 1. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
So mourned the dame of Ephesus her love;And thus the soldier, armed with resolution,Told his soft tale, and was a thriving wooer.Shakespeare's King Richard III. (Altered), Act ii. Sc. 1. C. CIBBER.
The Devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.Don Juan, Canto XV. LORD BYRON.
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world.Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
Read it, sweet maid, though it be done but slightly:Who can show all his love doth love but lightly.Sonnet. S. DANIEL.
Love first invented verse, and formed the rhyme,The motion measured, harmonized the chime.Cymon and Iphigenia. J. DRYDEN.
And you must love him, ere to youHe will seem worthy of your love.A Poet's Epitaph. W. WORDSWORTH.
None without hope e'er loved the brightest fair,But love can hope where reason would despair.Epigram. GEORGE, LORD LYTTELTON.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.Midsummer Night's Dream, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
None ever loved but at first sight they loved.Blind Beggar of Alexandria. G. CHAPMAN.
We only love where fate ordains we should,And, blindly fond, oft slight superior merit.Fall of Saguntum. PH. FROWDE.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot seeThe pretty follies that themselves commit.Merchant of Venice, Act ii. Sc. 6. SHAKESPEARE.
And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen,The maiden herself will steal after it soon.Ill Omens. T. MOORE.
And whispering, "I will ne'er consent,"—consented.Don Juan, Canto I. LORD BYRON.
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.Beggar's Opera, Act ii. Sc. 2. J. GAY.
There lives within the very flame of loveA kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE.
My only booksWere woman's looks,And folly's all they've taught me.The time I've lost in wooing. T. MOORE.
Then fly betimes, for only theyConquer Love that run away.Conquest by Flight. T. CAREW.
The rose that all are praisingIs not the rose for me;Too many eyes are gazingUpon the costly tree;But there's a rose in yonder glenThat shuns the gaze of other men,For me its blossom raising,—O, that's the rose for me.The rose that all are praising. T.H. BAYLY.
But the fruit that can fall without shaking,Indeed is too mellow for me.The Answer. LADY MARY W. MONTAGU.
Love in a hut, with water and a crust,Is—Lord forgive us!—cinders, ashes, dust.Lamia. J. KEATS.
The cold in clime are cold in blood,Their love can scarce deserve the name.The Giaour. LORD BYRON.
Love in your hearts as idly burnsAs fire in antique Roman urns.Hudibras, Pt. II. Canto I. S. BUTLER.
All the heart was full of feeling: love had ripened into speech,Like the sap that turns to nectar, in the velvet of the peach.Adonais. W.W. HARNEY.
O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, moveThe bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.Progress of Poesy, L 3. T. GRAY.
Still amorous, and fond, and billing.Like Philip and Mary on a shilling.Hudibras, Pt. III. Canto I. S. BUTLER.
Then awake!—the heavens look bright, my dear!'Tis never too late for delight, my dear!And the best of all waysTo lengthen our days,Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!Young May Moon. T. MOORE.
Lovers' hours are long, though seeming short.Venus and Adonis. SHAKESPEARE.
And, touched by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.Paradise Lost, Bk. VIII. MILTON.
Why, she would hang on him,As if increase of appetite had grownBy what it fed on.Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
Imparadised in one another's arms.Paradise Lost, Bk. IV. MILTON.
I give thee all—I can no more.Though poor the offering be;My heart and lute are all the storeThat I can bring to thee.My Heart and Lute. T. MOORE.
I've lived and loved.Wallenstein, Pt. I. Act ii. Sc. 6. S.T. COLERIDGE.
A mighty pain to love it is,And 't is a pain that pain to miss;But of all pains, the greatest painIt is to love, but love in vain.Gold. A. COWLEY.
The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love;The taint of earth, the odor of the skiesIs in it.Festus, Sc. Alcove, and Garden. P.J. BAILEY.
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasureThrill the deepest notes of woe.On Sensibility. R. BURNS.
Love is like a landscape which doth standSmooth at a distance, rough at hand.On Love. R. HEGGE.
Vows with so much passion, swears with so much grace,That 't is a kind of heaven to be deluded by him.Alexander the Great, Act i. Sc. 3. N. LEE.
To love you was pleasant enough,And O, 't is delicious to hate you!To—— T. MOORE.
Two souls with but a single thought,Two hearts that beat as one.Ingomar the Barbarian, Act ii.VON M. BELLINGHAUSEN. LOVELL'STrans.
Our two souls, therefore, which are one,Though I must go, endure not yetA breach, but an expansion,Like gold to airy thinness beat.If they be two, they are two soAs stiff twin compasses are two;Thy soul, the fixt foot, makes no showTo move, but doth if the other do.And though it in the centre sit,Yet when the other far doth roam,It leans and hearkens after it,And grows erect, as that comes home.Such wilt thou be to me, who must,Like the other foot, obliquely run.Thy firmness makes my circle just,And makes me end where I begun.A Valediction forbidding Mourning. DR. J. DONNE.
True beauty dwells in deep retreats,Whose veil is unremovedTill heart with heart in concord beats,And the lover is beloved.To—— W. WORDSWORTH.
With thee, all toils are sweet; each clime hath charms;Earth—sea alike—our world within our arms.The Bride of Abydos. LORD BYRON.
What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.Measure for Measure, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.He was a lover of the good old school,Who still become more constant as they cool.Beppo, Canto XXXIV, LORD BYRON.
Drink ye to her that each loves best,And if you nurse a flameThat's told but to her mutual breast,We will not ask her name.Drink ye to her. T. CAMPBELL.
FERDINAND.—Here's my hand.MIRANDA.—And mine, with my heart in it.Tempest, Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
How poor, how rich, how abject, how august,How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
* * * * *
A beam ethereal, sullied, and absorpt!Though sullied and dishonored, still divine!Dim miniature of greatness absolute!An heir of glory! a frail child of dust!Helpless immortal! insect infinite!A worm! a god!
* * * * *
What can preserve my life? or what destroy?An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave;Legions of angels can't confine me there.Night Thoughts, Night I. DR. E. YOUNG.
Nature they say, doth dote,And cannot make a manSave on some worn-out plan,Repeating as by rote.Commemoration Ode. J.R. LOWELL.
Man is the nobler growth our realms supply,And souls are ripened in our northern sky.The Invitation. MRS. A.L. BARBAULD.
'Tis God gives skill,But not without men's hands: He could not makeAntonio Stradivari's violinsWithout Antonio.Stradivarius. GEORGE ELIOT.
Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise;Such men as live in these degenerate days.Iliad, Bk. V. HOMER.Trans. of POPE.
Be wise with speed:A fool at forty is a fool indeed.Love of Fame, Satire II. DR. E. YOUNG.
What tho' short thy date?Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures.That life is long which answers life's great end.The time that bears no fruit deserves no name.The man of wisdom is the man of years.In hoary youth Methusalems may die;O, how misdated on their flatt'ring tombs!Night Thoughts, Night V. DR. E. YOUNG.
Man!Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.Childe Harold, Canto IV. LORD BYRON.
Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,Now green in youth, now withering on the ground:Another race the following spring supplies;They fall successive, and successive rise.Iliad, Bk. VI. HOMER.Trans. ofPOPE.
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;The proper study of mankind is man.* * * * *Created half to rise, and half to fall;Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled;The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!Essay on Man, Epistle II. A. POPE.
Those graceful acts,Those thousand decencies that daily flowFrom all her words and actions.Paradise Lost, Bk. VIII. MILTON.
Of manners gentle, of affections mild;In wit a man, simplicity a child.
* * * * *
A safe companion and an easy friendUnblamed through life, lamented in thy end.Epitaph on Gay. A. POPE.
Her air, her manners, all who saw admired;Courteous though coy, and gentle though retired:The joy of youth and health her eyes displayed,And ease of heart her every look conveyed.Parish Register, Pt. II. G. CRABBE.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
What would you have? your gentleness shall forceMore than your force move us to gentleness.As You Like It, Act ii. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE.
'Tis not enough your counsel still be true;Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do.Essay on Criticism, Pt. III. A. POPE.
Fit for the mountains and the barb'rous caves,Where manners ne'er were preached.Twelfth Night, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
He was the mildest mannered manThat ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.Don Juan, Canto III. LORD BYRON.
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtuesWe write in water.King Henry VIII., Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
Manners with fortunes, humors turn with climes,Tenets with books, and principles with times.Moral Essays, Epistle I. A. POPE.
Plain living and high thinking are no more.The homely beauty of the good old causeIs gone; our peace, our fearful innocence.And pure religion breathing household laws.Written in London, September, 1802. W. WORDSWORTH.
Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,And catch the manners living as they rise;Laugh where we must, be candid where we can,But vindicate the ways of God to man.Essay on Man, Epistle I. A. POPE.
True Love is but a humble, low-born thing,And hath its food served up in earthen ware;It is a thing to walk with, hand in hand.Through the every-dayness of this work-day world,
* * * * *
A simple, fireside thing, whose quiet smileCan warm earth's poorest hovel to a home.Love. J.R. LOWELL.
He is the half part of a blessed man,Left to be finished by such as she;And she a fair divided excellence,Whose fulness of perfection lies in him;King John, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
As unto the bow the cord is,So unto the man is woman;Though she bends him she obeys him;Though she draws him, yet she follows,Useless each without the other!Hiawatha, Pt. X. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
Man is but half without woman; andAs do idolaters their heavenly gods,We deify the things that we adore.Festus. P.J. BAILEY.
Let still the woman takeAn elder than herself: so wears she to him,So sways she level in her husband's heart,For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,Than women's are.
* * * * *
Then let thy love be younger than thyself,Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.Twelfth Night, Act ii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,Even such a woman oweth to her husband.Taming of the Shrew, Act v. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
And truant husband should return, and say."My dear, I was the first who came away."Don Juan, Canto I. LORD BYRON.
With thee conversing I forget all time;All seasons and their change, all please alike.
* * * * *
But neither breath of morn when she ascendsWith charm of earliest birds, nor rising sunOn this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,Glistering with dew, nor fragrance after showers,Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent nightWith this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon,Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.Paradise Lost, Bk. IV. MILTON.
So loving to my mother.That he might not beteem the winds of heavenVisit her face too roughly.Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life;Dear as these eyes, that weep in fondness o'er thee.Venice Preserved, Act v. Sc. 1. T. OTWAY.
Maidens like moths are ever caught by glare.And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. LORD BYRON.
So, with decorum all things carry'd;Miss frowned, and blushed, and then was—married.The Double Transformation. O. GOLDSMITH.
For talk six times with the same single lady,And you may get the wedding dresses ready.Don Juan, Canto XII. LORD BYRON.
Why don't the men propose, mamma,Why don't the men propose?Why don't the man propose? T.H. BAYLY.
There swims no goose so gray, but soon or lateShe finds some honest gander for her mate.Chaucer's Wife of Bath: Prologue. A. POPE.
Under this window in stormy weatherI marry this man and woman together;Let none but Him who rules the thunderPut this man and woman asunder.Marriage Service from his Chamber Window. J. SWIFT.
This house is to be let for life or years;Her rent is sorrow, and her income tears;Cupid, 't has long stood void; her bills make known.She must be dearly let, or let alone.Emblems, Bk. II. 10F. QUARLES.
Look ere thou leap, see ere thou go.Of Wiving and Thriving. T. TUSSER.
Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure;Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.The Old Bachelor, Act v. Sc. 1. W. CONGREVE.
Men are April when they woo, December when they wed.As You Like It, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
And oft the careless find it to their cost,The lover in the husband may be lost.Advice to a Lady. LORD LYTTELTON.
Wedlock, indeed, hath oft compared beenTo public feasts, where meet a public rout,Where they that are without would fain go in,And they that are within would fain go out.Contention betwixt a Wife, etc. SIR J. DAVIES.
O fie upon this single life! forego it.Duchess of Malfy. J. WEBSTER.
1. That man must lead a happy life 2. Who is directed by a wife; 3. Who's free from matrimonial chains 4. Is sure to suffer for his pains.
5. Adam could find no solid peace6. Till he beheld a woman's face;7. When Eve was given for a mate,8. Adam was in a happy state.Epigram on Matrimony:Read alternate lines,—1, 3; 2, 4; 5, 7; 6, 8.
The kindest and the happiest pairWill find occasion to forbear;And something every day they liveTo pity and perhaps forgive.Mutual Forbearance. W. COWPER.
But happy they, the happiest of their kind!Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fateTheir hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend.Seasons: Spring. J. THOMSON.
And when with envy Time, transported,Shall think to rob us of our joys,You'll in your girls again be courted,And I'll go wooing in my boys.Winifreda. T. PERCY.
Cling closer, closer, life to life,Cling closer, heart to heart;The time will come, my own wed Wife,When you and I must part!Let nothing break our band but Death,For in the world above'Tis the breaker Death that solderethOur ring of Wedded Love.On a Wedding Day. G. MASSEY.
You tell your doctor, that y' are ill;And what does he, but write a bill?Of which you need not read one letter;The worse the scrawl, the dose the better,For if you knew but what you take,Though you recover, he must break.Alma, Canto III. M. PRIOR.
But when ill indeed,E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed.Lodgings for Single Gentlemen. G. COLEMAN,the Younger.
"Is there no hope?" the sick man said.The silent doctor shook his headAnd took his leave with signs of sorrow,Despairing of his fee to-morrow.The Sick Man and the Angel. J. GAY.
I do remember an apothecary.
* * * * *
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,An alligator stuffed, and other skinsOf ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelvesA beggarly account of empty boxes.Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
With us ther was a Doctour of Phisik,In al this world ne was ther non him lykTo speke of phisik and of surgerye.
* * * * *
He knew the cause of every maladye,Were it of hoot or colde, or moyste or drye,And wher engendered and of what humour;He was a verrey parfight practisour.Canterbury Tales: Prologue. CHAUCER.
'T is not amiss, ere ye're giv'n o'er.To try one desp'rate med'cine more;For where your case can be no worse,The desp'rat'st is the wisest course.Hudibras to Sidrophel. S. BUTLER.
Take a little rum,The less you take the better,Pour it in the lakesOf Wener or of Wetter.
Dip a spoonful outAnd mind you don't get groggy,Pour it in the lakeOf Winnipissiogie.
Stir the mixture wellLest it prove inferior,Then put half a dropInto Lake Superior.
Every other dayTake a drop in water,You'll be better soon—Or at least you oughter.Lines on Homoeopathy. BISHOP G.W. DOANE.
By medicine life may be prolonged, yet deathWill seize the doctor too.Cymbeline, Act v. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.
MelancholyIs not, as you conceive, indispositionOf body, but the mind's disease.The Lover's Melancholy, Act iii. Sc. 1. J. FORD.
Go—you may call it madness, folly,You shall not chase my gloom away.There's such a charm in melancholy,I would not, if I could, be gay!To—— S. ROGERS.
There is a mood(I sing not to the vacant and the young),There is a kindly mood of melancholyThat wings the soul and points her to the skies.Ruins of Rome. J. DYER.
And, when the streamWhich overflowed the soul was passed away,A consciousness remained that it had left,Deposited upon the silent shoreOf memory, images and precious thoughtsThat shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.The Excursion, Bk. VII. W. WORDSWORTH.
I cannot but remember such things were,That were most precious to me.Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
This memory brightens o'er the past,As when the sun concealedBehind some cloud that near us hangs,Shines on a distant field.A Gleam of Sunshine. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
I count myself in nothing else so happyAs in a soul rememb'ring my good friends;And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,It shall be still thy true love's recompense.Richard II., Act ii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
The sweet remembrance of the justShall flourish when he sleeps in dust.Psalm CXII. TATE AND BRADY.
When he shall hear she died upon his words,Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creepInto his study of imagination,And every lovely organ of her lifeShall come apparelled in more precious habit,More moving-delicate, and full of life,Into the eye and prospect of his soul,Than when she lived indeed.Much Ado about Nothing, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Thou, thou alone, shall dwell forever.And still shall recollection traceIn fancy's mirror, ever near,Each smile, each tear, upon that face—Though lost to sight, to memory dear.Though Lost to Sight, to Memory Dear. T. MOORE.
Joy's recollection is no longer joy,While sorrow's memory is a sorrow still.Doge of Venice. LORD BYRON.
Of joys departed,Not to return, how painful the remembrance!The Grave. R. BLAIR.
He that is strucken blind cannot forgetThe precious treasure of his eyesight lost.Romeo and Juliet, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that startWhen Memory plays an old tune on the heart!Old Dobbin. R. COOK.
What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!How sweet their memory still!But they have left an aching voidThe world can never fill.Walking with God. W. COWPER.
While memory holds a seatIn this distracted globe. Remember thee?Yea, from the table of my memoryI'll wipe away all trivial fond records,All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,That youth and observation copied there;And thy commandment all alone shall liveWithin the book and volume of my brain.Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.
The leaves of memory seem to makeA mournful rustling in the dark.The Fire of Driftwood. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
My memory now is but the tomb of joys long past.The Giaour. LORD BYRON.
Remembrance and reflection how allied!What thin partitions sense from thought divide!Essay on Man, Epistle I. A. POPE.
And memory, like a drop that night and dayFalls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!Lalla Rookh. T. MOORE.
Of all affliction taught the lover yet,'T is sure the hardest science to forget.Eloisa to Abélard. A. POPE.
Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,How often must it love, how often hate.How often hope, despair, resent, regret,Conceal, disdain,—do all things but forget.Eloisa to Abélard. A. POPE.
To live with them is far less sweetThan to remember thee!I saw thy form. T. MOORE.
The heart hath its own memory, like the mindAnd in it are enshrinedThe precious keepsakes, into which is wroughtThe giver's loving thought.From my Arm-chair. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
The quality of mercy is not strained,—It droppeth as the gentle rain from heavenUpon the place beneath: it is twice blessed,—It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
'T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomesThe thronèd monarch better than his crown;His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,The attribute to awe and majesty,Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings:But mercy is above this sceptred sway,—It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,It is an attribute to God himself;And earthly power doth then show likest God's,When mercy seasons justice….
We do pray for mercy;And that same prayer doth teach us all to renderThe deeds of mercy.Merchant of Venice, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Who will not mercie unto others show,How can he mercie ever hope to have?Faërie Queene, Bk. VI. Canto I. E. SPENSER.
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,Become them with one half so good a graceAs mercy does.Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.Titus Andronicus, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
Yet I shall temper soJustice with mercy, as may illustrate mostThem fully satisfied, and Thee appease.Paradise Lost, Bk. X. MILTON.
Gold that buys health can never be ill spent,Nor hours laid out in harmless merriment.Westward Ho, Act v. Sc. 3. J. WEBSTER.
Merrily, merrily, shall I live nowUnder the blossom that hangs on the bough.Tempest, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
The glad circles round them yield their soulsTo festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall.The Seasons: Summer. J. THOMSON.
As merry as the day is long.Much Ado about Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.Taming of the Shrew: Induction, Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
A merrier man,Within the limit of becoming mirth,I never spent an hour's talk withal.His eye begets occasion for his wit.For every object that the one doth catch,The other turns to a mirth-loving jest.Love's Labor's Lost, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Jog on, jog, on the footpath way,And merrily hent the stile-a:A merry heart goes all the day,Your sad tires in a mile-a.The Winter's Tale, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt,And every grin, so merry, draws one out.Expostulatory Odes, XV. DR. J. WOLCOTT (Peter Pindar).
And yet, methinks, the older that one grows,Inclines us more to laugh than scold, tho' laughterLeaves us so doubly serious shortly after.Beppo. LORD BYRON.
There's not a string attuned to mirthBut has its chord in melancholy.Ode to Melancholy. T. HOOD.
Low gurgling laughter, as sweetAs the swallow's song i' the South,And a ripple of dimples that, dancing, meetBy the curves of a perfect mouth.Ariel. P.H. HAYNE.
Fight Virtue's cause, stand up in Wit's defence,Win us from vice and laugh us into sense.On the Prospect of Peace. T. TICKELL.
Let me play the fool;With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;And let my liver rather heat with wine,Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.Why should a man whose blood is warm within,Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundiceBy being peevish?Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
We had not walkedBut for Tradition; we walk evermoreTo higher paths by brightening Reason's lamp.Spanish Gypsy, Bk. II. GEORGE ELIOT.
He that of such a height hath built his mind,And reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong,As neither fear nor hope can shake the frameOf his resolvèd powers; nor all the windOf vanity or malice pierce to wrongHis settled peace, or to disturb the same;What a fair seat hath he, from whence he mayThe boundless wastes and wilds of man survey?
* * * * *
Unless above himself he canErect himself, how poor a thing is man!To the Countess of Cumberland. S. DANIEL.
The mind is its own place, and in itselfCan make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.Paradise Lost, Bk. I. MILTON.
Sure, He that made us with such large discourse,Looking before and after, gave us notThat capability and godlike reason,To fust in us unused.Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice,Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice.The Vanity of Human Wishes. DR. S. JOHNSON.
How small, of all that human hearts endure,That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!Still to ourselves in every place consigned,Our own felicity we make or find.With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.Lines added to Goldsmith's Traveller. DR. S. JOHNSON.
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Measure your mind's height by the shade it casts!Paracelsus. R. BROWNING.
Were I so tall to reach the pole,Or grasp the ocean with my span,I must be measured by my soul:The mind's the standard of the man.Horæ Lyricæ, Bk. II.: False Greatness. DR. I. WATTS.
Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise;His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies.Moral Essays, Epistle I. A. POPE.
While Reason drew the plan, the Heart informedThe moral page and Fancy lent it grace.Liberty, Pt. IV. J. THOMSON.
Minds that have nothing to conferFind little to perceive.Yes! Thou art fair. WORDSWORTH.
Cried, "'T is resolved, for Nature pleads that heShould only rule who most resembles me.Shadwell alone my perfect image bears,Mature in dulness from his tender years;Shadwell alone of all my sons is heWho stands confirmed in full stupidity.The rest to some faint meaning make pretence,But Shadwell never deviates into sense.Some beams of wit on other souls may fall,Strike through and make a lucid interval;But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray."Mac Flecknoe. J. DRYDEN.
Onward, ye men of prayer!Scatter in rich exuberance the seed,Whose fruit is living bread, and all your needWill God supply; his harvest ye shall share.
Seek ye the far-off isle;The sullied jewel of the deep,O'er whose remembered beauty angels weep,Restore its lustre and to God give spoil.Missionaries. W.B. TAPPAN.
When they reach the land of strangers,And the prospect dark appears,Nothing seen but toils and dangers,Nothing felt but doubts and fears;Be thou with them!Hear their sighs, and count their tears.Departing Missionaries. T. KELLY.
Shall we, whose souls are lightedWith wisdom from on high,Shall we to men benightedThe Lamp of life deny?Salvation! O Salvation!The joyful sound proclaim,Till earth's remotest nationHas learned Messiah's name.From Greenland's Icy Mountains. BISHOP R. HEBER.
Blest river of salvation,Pursue thy onward way;Flow thou to every nation,Nor in thy richness stay:Stay not till all the lowlyTriumphant reach their home;Stay not till all the holyProclaim, "The Lord is come!"Success of the Gospel. S.F. SMITH.
Nor shall thy spreading gospel rest,Till through the world thy truth has run:Till Christ has all the nations blessedThat see the light, or feel the sun.God's Word and Works. DR. I. WATTS.
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,Lie in three words,—health, peace, and competence.Rut health consists with temperance alone.And peace, O Virtue! peace is all thine own.Essay on Man, Epistle IV. A. POPE.
These violent delights have violent ends,And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,Which as they kiss consume.
* * * * *
Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. SHAKESPEARE.
They surfeited with honey; and beganTo loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a littleMore than a little is by much too much.King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act iii. Sc2. SHAKESPEARE.
And for my means. I'll husband them so wellThey shall go far with little.Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.
He that holds fast the golden mean,And lives contentedly betweenThe little and the great,Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door.Translation of Horace, Bk. II. Ode X. W. COWPER.
Take this at least, this last advice, my son:Keep a stiff rein, and move but gently on:The coursers of themselves will run too fast,Your art must be to moderate their haste.Metamorphoses: Phaeton, Bk. II. OVID.Trans. ofADDISON.
Have more than thou showest,Speak less than thou knowest,Lend less than thou owest,Ride more than thou goest,Learn more than thou trowest,Set less than thou throwest.King Lear, Act i. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
The night is come, but not too soon;And sinking silently,All silently, the little moonDrops down behind the sky.The Light of Stars. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
See yonder fire! it is the moonSlow rising o'er the eastern hill.It glimmers on the forest tips,And through the dewy foliage dripsIn little rivulets of light,And makes the heart in love with night.Christus: The Golden Legend, Pt. VI. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
How like a queen comes forth the lonely MoonFrom the slow opening curtains of the clouds;Walking in beauty to her midnight throne!Diana. G. CROLY.
The Moon arose: she shone upon the lake,Which lay one smooth expanse of silver light;She shone upon the hills and rocks, and castUpon their hollows and their hidden glensA blacker depth of shade.Madoc, Pt. II. R. SOUTHEY.
No rest—no dark.Hour after hour that passionless bright faceClimbs up the desolate blue.Moon-struck. D.M. MULOCK CRAIK.
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou goOver those hoary crests, divinely led!Art thou that huntress of the silver bowFabled of old? Or rather dost thou treadThose cloudy summits thence to gaze below,Like the wild chamois from her Alpine snow,Where hunters never climbed—secure from dread?Ode to the Moon. T. HOOD.
And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, uponAll this, and cast a wide and tender light,Which softened down the hoar austerityOf rugged desolation, and filled up,As 't were anew, the gaps of centuries,Leaving that beautiful which still was so,And making that which was not, till the placeBecame religion, and the heart ran o'erWith silent worship of the great of old!—The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still ruleOur spirits from their urns.Manfred, Actiii.Sc. 4(The Coliseum). LORD BYRON.
When the moon shone, we did not see the candle;So doth the greater glory dim the less.Merchant of Venice, Act v. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
The moon looksOn many brooks,"The brook can see no moon but this."While gazing on the moon's light. T. MOORE.
I see them on their winding way.Above their ranks the moonbeams play.
* * * * *
And waving arms and banners brightAre glancing in the mellow light.Lines written to a March. BISHOP R. HEBER.
The devil's in the moon for mischief; theyWho called her chaste, methinks, began too soonTheir nomenclature; there is not a day,The longest, not the twenty-first of June,Sees half the business in a wicked way.On which three single hours of moonshine smile—And then she looks so modest all the while!Don Juan. Canto I. LORD BYRON.
Faery elves,Whose midnight revels, by a forest-side,Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moonSits arbitress, and nearer to the earthWheels her pale course.Paradise Lost, Bk. I. MILTON.
Day glimmered in the east, and the white MoonHung like a vapor in the cloudless sky.Italy: Lake of Geneva. S. ROGERS.
But soft! methinks I scent the morning air.Hamlet, Acti.Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.Hamlet, Acti.Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.
Look, the gentle day,Before the wheels of Phoebus, roundabout,Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray.Much Ado about Nothing, Actv.Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
Till morning fairCame forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray.Paradise Regained, Bk. IV. MILTON.
The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.Romeo and Juliet, Actii.Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
Clothing the palpable and familiarWith golden exhalations of the dawn.The Death of Wallenstein, Acti.Sc. 1. S.T. COLERIDGE.
Night wanes,—the vapors round the mountains curledMelt into morn, and light awakes the world.Lara. LORD BYRON.
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund dayStands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops.Romeo and Juliet, Actiii.Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.
Night's sun was drivingHis golden-haired horses up;Over the eastern firthsHigh flashed their manes.The Longbeard's Saga. C. KINGSLEY.
Slow buds the pink dawn like a roseFrom out night's gray and cloudy sheath;Softly and still it grows and grows,Petal by petal, leaf by leaf.The Morning Comes Before the Sun.S.C. WOOLSEY (Susan Coolidge).
The charm dissolves apace,And as the morning steals upon the night,Melting the darkness, so their rising sensesBegin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantleTheir clearer reason.Tempest, Actv.Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
An hour before the worshipped sunPeered forth the golden window of the east.Romeo and Juliet, Acti.Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
The morn is up again, the dewy morn,With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn,And living as if earth contained no tomb,—And glowing into day.Childe Harold, Canto III. LORD BYRON.
Hail, gentle dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!Rejoiced I see thy purple mantle spreadO'er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,And orient pearls from ev'ry shrub depend.The Chase, Bk. II. W.C. SOMERVILLE.
Morn in the white wake of the morning starCame furrowing all the orient into gold.The Princess. A. TENNYSON.
The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews.The Seasons: Summer. J. THOMSON.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweetWith charms of earliest birds; pleasant the sun,When first on this delightful land he spreadsHis orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,Glistering with dew.Paradise Lost, Bk. IV. MILTON.
This morning, like the spirit of a youthThat means to be of note, begins betimes.Antony and Cleopatra, Act iv. So. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
Morn,Waked by the circling hours, with rosy handUnbarred the gates of light.Paradise Lost, Bk. VI. MILTON.
Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern climeAdvancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl,When Adam waked, so customed, for his sleepWas aery-light, from pure digestion bred.Paradise Lost, Bk. V. MILTON.
At last, the golden orientall gateOf greatest heaven gan to open fayre,And Phoebus, fresh as brydegrome to his mate.Came dauncing forth, shaking his dewie hayre;And hurls his glistring beams through gloomy ayre.Faërie Queene, Bk. I. Canto V. E. SPENSER.
But yonder comes the powerful King of DayRejoicing in the east.The Seasons: Summer. J. THOMSON.
'Tis always morning somewhere in the world,And Eos rises, circling constantlyThe varied regions of mankind. No pauseOf renovation and of freshening raysShe knows.Orion, Bk. III. Canto III. R.H. HORNE.
The only love which, on this teeming earth,Asks no return for passion's wayward birth.The Dream. HON. MRS. NORTON.
A mother's love,—how sweet the name!What is a mother's love?—A noble, pure and tender flame.Enkindled from above.To bless a heart of earthly mould;The warmest love that can grow cold;—This is a mother's love.A Mother's Love. J. MONTGOMERY.
Hath he set bounds between their love and me?I am their mother; who shall bar me from them?King Richard III., Act iv. Sc.1. SHAKESPEARE.
The poor wren,The most diminutive of birds, will fight,Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.Macbeth, Act iv. Sc.2. SHAKESPEARE.
Where yet was ever found a motherWho'd give her booby for another?Fables: The Mother, the Nurse, and the Fairy, J. GAY.
Women knowThe way to rear up children (to be just);They know a simple, merry, tender knackOf tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes,And stringing pretty words that make no sense,And kissing full sense into empty words:Which things are corals to cut life upon,Although such trifles.Aurora Leigh, Bk. I. E.B. BROWNING.
They say that man is mighty.He governs land and sea,He wields a mighty scepterO'er lesser powers that be;But a mightier power and strongerMan from his throne has hurled,For the hand that rocks the cradleIs the hand that rules the world.What Rules the World. W.R. WALLACE.
Who ran to help me when I fell,And would some pretty story tell,Or kiss the place to make it well?My mother.My Mother. JANE TAYLOR.
Happy heWith such a mother! faith in womankindBeats with his blood, and trust in all things highComes easy to him, and though he trip and fall,He shall not blind his soul with clay.The Princess, Canto VII. A. TENNYSON.
A mother is a mother still,The holiest thing alive.The Three Graces. S.T. COLERIDGE.
Two voices are there; one is of the sea,One of the mountains; each a mighty Voice.Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland.W. WORDSWORTH.
Who first beholds those everlasting clouds,Seedtime and harvest, morning, noon, and night,Still where they were, steadfast, immovable;Who first beholds the Alps—that mighty chain
Of mountains, stretching on from east to west,So massive, yet so shadowy, so ethereal,As to belong rather to heaven than earth—But instantly receives into his soulA sense, a feeling that he loses not,A something that informs him 'tis a momentWhence he may date henceforward and forever!Italy. S. ROGERS.
The avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow!—All that expands the spirit, yet appalls,Gather around these summits, as to showHow earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below.Childe Harold, Canto III. LORD BYRON.
Mountains interposedMake enemies of nations, who had elseLike kindred drops been mingled into one.The Task, Bk. II. W. COWPER.
Over the hills and far away.The Beggar's Opera, Act i. Sc. 1. J. GAY.
Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;They crowned him long agoOn a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,With a diadem of snow.Manfred, Act i. Sc. 1. LORD BYRON.
They truly mourn, that mourn without a witness.Mirza. R. BARON.
He mourns the dead who lives as they desire.Night Thoughts, Night II. DR. E. YOUNG.
Each lonely scene shall thee restore;For thee the tear be duly shed;Beloved till life can charm no more,And mourned till Pity's self be dead.Dirge in Cymbeline. W. COLLINS.
Those that he loved so long and sees no more,Loved and still loves,—not dead, but gone before,—He gathers round him.Human Life. S. ROGERS.
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speakWhispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
Praising what is lostMakes the remembrance dear.All's Well that Ends Well, Act v. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
We bear it calmly, though a ponderous woe.And still adore the hand that gives the blow.Verses to his Friend under Affliction. J. POMFRET.
My grief lies all within;And these external manners of lamentsAre merely shadows to the unseen griefThat swells with silence in the tortured soul.King Richard II., Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
What though no friends in sable weeds appear,Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year,And bear about the mockery of woeTo midnight dances and the public show!To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. A. POPE.
He first deceased; she for a little triedTo live without him, liked it not, and died.Upon the Death of Sir Albert Morton's Wife. SIR H. WOTTON.
Poor Jack, farewell!I could have better spared a better man.King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act v. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE.
So may he rest: his faults lie gently on him!King Henry VIII, Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend.Eternity mourns that. 'Tis an ill cureFor life's worst ills to have no time to feel them.
Philip Van Artevelde, Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 5. H. TAYLOR.
The very cypress droops to death—Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled,The only constant mourner o'er the dead.The Giaour. LORD BYRON.
O blissful God, that art so just and trewe!Lo, howe that thou biwreyest mordre alway!Mordre wol out, that se we day by day.The Nonnes Preestes Tale. CHAUCER.
Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies.The gods on murtherers fix revengeful eyes.The Widow's Tears. G. CHAPMAN.
Murder may pass unpunished for a time,But tardy justice will o'ertake the crime.The Cock and the Fox. J. DRYDEN.
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speakWith most miraculous organ.Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
God is its author, and not man; he laidThe key-note of all harmonies; he plannedAll perfect combinations, and he madeUs so that we could hear and understand.Music. J.A.C. BRAINARD.
There's music in the sighing of a reed;There's music in the gushing of a rill;There's music in all things, if men had ears:Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.Don Juan, Canto XV. LORD BYRON.
With melting airs, or martial, brisk, or grave;Some chord in unison with what we hearIs touched within us, and the heart replies.The Task, Bk. VI.: Winter Walk at Noon. W. COWPER.
A velvet flute-note fell down pleasantly,Upon the bosom of that harmony,And sailed and sailed incessantly,As if a petal from a wild-rose blownHad fluttered down upon that pool of tone,And boatwise dropped o' the convex sideAnd floated down the glassy tideAnd clarified and glorifiedThe solemn spaces where the shadows bide.The Symphony. S. LANTER.
Can any mortal mixture of earth's mouldBreathe such divine enchanting ravishment?Sure something holy lodges in that breast,And with these raptures moves the vocal airTo testify his hidden residence.How sweetly did they float upon the wingsOf silence, through the empty-vaulted night,At every fall smoothing the raven downOf darkness till it smiled.Comus. MILTON.
Though music oft hath such a charmTo make bad good, and good provoke to harm.Measure for Measure, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
If music be the food of love, play on;Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,The appetite may sicken, and so die.—That strain again—it had a dying fall:O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,That breathes upon a bank of violets,Stealing and giving odor.Twelfth Night, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Where music dwellsLingering and wandering on, as loath to die,Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proofThat they were born for immortality.Ecclesiastical Sonnets, Pt. III. xliii. W. WORDSWORTH.
Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast,To soften rooks, or bend a knotted oak.I've read that things inanimate have moved,And, as with living souls, have been informedBy magic numbers and persuasive sound.The Mourning Bride, Act i. Sc. 1. W. CONGREVE.
There is a charm, a power, that sways the breast;Bids every passion revel or be still;Inspires with rage, or all our cares dissolves:Can soothe distraction, and almost despair.Art of Preserving Health. J. ARMSTRONG.
The soul of music slumbers in the shell,Till waked and kindled by the Master's spell;And feeling hearts—touch them but lightly—pourA thousand melodies unheard before!Human Life. S. ROGERS.
Give me some music; music, moody foodOf us that trade in love.Antony and Cleopatra, Act ii. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.
See to their desks Apollo's sons repair,Swift rides the rosin o'er the horse's hair!In unison their various tones to tune.Murmurs the hautboy, growls the hoarse bassoon;In soft vibration sighs the whispering lute,Tang goes the harpsichord, too-too the flute,Brays the loud trumpet, squeaks the fiddle sharp,Winds the French-horn, and twangs the tingling harp;Till, like great Jove, the leader, figuring in,Attunes to order the chaotic din.Rejected Addresses: The Theatre. H. AND J. SMITH.
'Tis believed that this harp which I wake now for theeWas a siren of old who sung under the sea.The Origin of the Harp. T. MOORE.
And wheresoever, in his rich creation,Sweet music breathes—in wave, or bird, or soul—'Tis but the faint and far reverberationOf that great tune to which the planets roll!Music. F.S. OSGOOD.
He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced;As some vast river of unfailing source,Rapid, exhaustless, deep, his numbers flowed,And opened new fountains in the human heart.Course of Time, Bk. IV. R. POLLOK.
Music resembles poetry: in eachAre nameless graces which no methods teach,And which a master-hand alone can reach.Essay on Criticism. A. POPE.
Who hath not owned, with rapture-smitten frame,The power of grace, the magic of a name?Pleasures of Hope, Pt. II. T. CAMPBELL.
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,His honor and the greatness of his nameShall be, and make new nations.King Henry VIII., Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
Halloo your name to the reverberate hillsAnd make the babbling gossip of the airCry out.Twelfth Night, Act i. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE.
My name is Norval; on the Grampian hillsMy father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain,Whose constant cares were to increase his store,And keep his only son, myself, at home.Douglas, Act ii. Sc. 1. J. HOME.
And if his name be George. I'll call him Peter;For new-made honor doth forget men's names.King John, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.