WHAT Heaven on me bestows, like Heaven in bounty too let me bestow, And in my prosperous day around let streams of ceaseless favour flow, Flow ever from the mighty sea of everlasting Charity. ANY one may command his tongue; but it is only by long habit that the countenance can be brought under controul. The latter is, however, even more necessary, in many cases, than the former; because words can seldom be misunderstood, but of what various interpretations is not a look susceptible? OH, Honour! frail as Life, thy fellow flower! DAVENANT. THOUGH grief sometimes, conspiring with the night, DR. BEAUMONT. THOUGH lost to all besides, the dead still live to those by whom they were injured. How many lift the head, look gay, and smile, What we have tried, and struggle with conviction : YOUNG. THE OCEAN. BEAUTIFUL, Sublime, and glorious, Image of eternity. Sun, and moon, and stars shine o'er thee, See thy surface ebb and flow; Yet attempt not to explore thee In thy soundless depths below. Whether morning's splendours steep thee Earth-her valleys and her mountains, Thy unfathomable fountains Scoff his search, and scorn his sway. Such art thou-stupendous Ocean! What must thy CREATOR be? ENTHUSIASM is the genius of sincerity. BARTON. HE that is careless of his fame is not fond of his integrity. FELTHAM. I THOUGHT of thee, my partner and my guide, As being past away,-Vain sympathies! I see what was, and is, and will abide; Still glides the stream, and shall not cease to glide, The elements, must vanish ;-be it so! Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour; Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendant dower, We feel that we are greater than we know. WORDSWORTH. THINGS Out of hope are compass'd oft with venturing. SENSIBILITY Would be a good portress, if she had but one hand: with her right she opens the door to pleasure, but with her left, to pain. THE man resolv'd, and steady to his trust, May the rude rabble's insolence despise, Their senseless clamours and tumultuous cries; And the stern brow and the harsh voice defies, WHEN the tide of family affection runs smooth and unbroken, it bears the bark of happiness securely on its bosom. MRS. OPIE. THIS only grant me, that my means may lie Not from great deeds, but good alone; Acquaintance I would have, but when 't depends Books should, not business, entertain the light, Than palace, and should fitting be For all my use, no luxury. My garden painted o'er With Nature's hand, not Art's; and pleasures yield, Horace might envy in his Sabine field. Thus would I double my life's fading space; For he that runs it well twice runs his race. These unbought sports, that happy state, But boldly say each night, To-morrow let my sun his beams display, Or in clouds hide them: I have lived to-day. COWLEY. |